Somewhere in Nordrhein Westfalen, Sometimes in late December 2019

Transit is a space rather than a place. Additionally to the geographical aspect, there seems to be some kind of time(less) nature to it.

Like in the airports, where we usually rush a bit nervous so as not to miss the flight, touching our pockets absentmindedly while checking all is there, maybe a little too emotional as days preceding the departure might have been full of saying good-byes.

Do you usually hurry to catch the flight or do you prefer to plan enough you-time before departures?

To balance your emotional state, some routines take place that calms you down like making sure your flight is on the big screen; going to the security check; calming down; waiting; checking in a bit shaken-handed, a bit overwhelmed, as this was no weekend trip.

This was 2 years and 9 months piece of my life!

Do you prefer long travels or euro-weekends?

During check-in, the customs officers usually find some forgotten hand cream in a back pocket of your handbag, so even at that stage, you shall still be ready to let go of things that are not meant to follow you to that other destination.

And then … you pass that sliding door.

The door is placed so that when you turn back, you still see the turmoil of security check and behind that the place where the non-travelers occupying the travelers stand.

You pause and look in the crowd recognizing the faces of your people. Last glimpses, smiles, last inner urge to just go back, let us forget all of this, give me back my suitcase, I am staying.

Have you also ever thought you cannot stay?

It is the inner voice; the one that constantly weighs all possible outcomes, all opportunities unfolding in all parallel universes. It is the Intuition.

„Hush, we decided,“ you shut the Intuition off and give the reign back to the reasoning. You let that door close behind you.

Do you listen to the intuition or to the fear?

Anyway, welcome to Transit.

Transits are worlds for themselves.

After taking a couple of deep breathes, you realize it is actually a lively place. Many other travelers are waiting in Transit. Some are sleepy after long voyages. Some wide-eyed and full of expectations about how is it going to be there where they are going. Some seem to be fully resigned. Some are fully awake and present.

You zoom in (eyes and mind) from those preceding hasty days to that rather small space. There is only one thing to do. Accept the situation, find the cutest coffee corner, and watch other passengers. Focusing on other people always helps. It makes us less preoccupied with ourselves.

Then the countdown starts and it gets all more and more real.

All those security checks, putting of shoes and your belt, long queues at toilets or pastry corners, all was necessary so that you could slowly digest what is going on.

Do you also have digestion issues?

Sometimes, during your travels, it happens to be someone’s birthday or, like in this case: Christmas. There is no point in trying to change the situation but rather enjoy a little time in that “in-between” space-time, where you do not belong there, not here.

You watch the runway, the blue sky, for 100th time you might shortly wonder how that big-ass airplane can actually fly. Maybe you reflect on all amazing things you’ve already done and that led you here and on all amazing people that enabled it. Maybe some were not so amazing. Maybe you see the big picture suddenly in a very new perspective thanks to that  “in-between” space-time perspective.

I am not in an airport. I sit in my half-empty flat. I am in Transit.

I need to be here as there are still things to be taken care of; things to be done until the very last day when I will hand over the keys of my apartment.

Let us not rush the departures. They deserve as much attention as the arrivals.

As I write this, I am looking at the white linen my dear oil-painting teacher here in Bielefeld made for me. I might paint. I might as well leave it white for a while and just see what comes up.

Do you think we paint our own future?