“All my fountains are in You.”
– Psalm 87
I wake up every morning reading a Psalm. After going through the Bible from front to back twice, I decided that I would like to explore the Psalms more. So I am on number 87 now, but after I am finished, I think I’ll just start over again. On that side note, waking up with songs of deep human emotion, praise and prayer has been very healing for me. Especially the praise and prayer part is something that I feel that I often lack in. What better way to grow then to just dive right into it at the start of my day?
200 blogs. Where do I even begin to process that? All I can say is that my fountain of writing feels like a new well. A new source of fresh water. Even though it’s number 200, it still feels fresh to me. Without an idea of where it is going.
One of the things I liked exploring in my blogs so far is the power of metaphors. I think I wrote about it already on one of my first blogs. Metaphors are these images of what our words and thoughts cannot grasp otherwise. For me, water is one of those powerful metaphors that always comes back. I love being at the seaside. My favourite holiday destination as a child. I spent many hours watching the waves when I lived in Bilbao. I remember walking the Camino to Santiago and one of Albergues (that’s the place where pilgrims sleep) was located right beside the ice, ice cold water. I walked around the lake in Osnabruck countless times.
My favourite place in the world is this small blue walking bridge across a stream near the home where I grew up. When I was just a young girl, maybe 6 or so, my sister and I would come there with my grandmother. There was this bench with a glass jar that had a notebook inside. Weary travelers like us could sit down and rest while writing their thoughts for the next person to read. As a hormonal teenager, I imagined that blue bridge to be the place where someone would propose to me. (In case you haven’t that figured out by these blogs, I can be quite the romantic sometimes. At least in my mind.)
Besides these precious memories of my grandmother and my silly thoughts as a teenager, the point is clear. I love places with water. They give me space in my mind. I spent hours of walking beside the stream during the fall and winter when I didn’t know what to do with my life. Pacing through the cold winter air. I also remember the last morning in the States. Right before going home. I stood on the renovated dock in the middle of the lack. Morning sun on my face. My arms spread wide and my hands open. Ready to dive into the next chapter of my life. The unknown. I had this sense back then, that everything would be different from that day forward.
And in a way it was different. When I came home, I didn’t know what to expect from my own life. I wasn’t a student anymore. I didn’t have plan ready. Yet I found a deep love for living in way that I didn’t know was there. And along one of those walks along the water, this blog was born. Along the way I’ve learned to see writing as streaming water. In all its shapes and forms, the words keep flowing. 200 days worth of writing.
Sometimes I feel like I wrote about nothing in particular. The words don’t come out in the right way. I don’t know what to say or how I feel. Nothing happens. The day is just grey and boring. Or I open up completely. I give everything that there is. I pour out my heart and soul. Online. Forever readable to strangers. And after publishing I sometimes have a bit of vulnerability hangover. Did I share too much?
Exactly my thoughts again at the end of the Easter weekend. When I found myself on the water side again. Even though Kampala is right along the lake, you can’t actually sit on a quiet beach by yourself. But I found a place by accident, ignored the loud music and just took a moment to let my thoughts wander away with the wind and the waves. Have I been too open? Did I share too much this weekend on my blog? Where do I even want to go with this project?
Many more questions live in my heart right now. Most of them are just for God and myself to figure out. Some of them involve people around me. Some of them involve you. And maybe there is one question that I want to give back to you.
Where do you see this blog writing adventure heading? Where should it go? I honestly have no idea yet. I already have to pinch myself with the idea that I kept this thing going for 200 days. I hope the words will continue to flow like waves. That this is the first step of making my dream of being a writer come true. That this blog might be a start of something bigger.
Like a tiny drop of rain becoming an ocean.
Somewhere in the past 200 days, I found a fountain.
Come join me at this source of fresh water. Where the words flow like waves.
After I had written this post and scheduled it to be published, I realised that the main image of my blog is actually me at a fountain. Open hands. Enjoying the water as it flows. I don’t believe in coincidence. I do believe in powerful messages and daily miracles. You just have to be willing to see them happen. Right in front of you.