Pyjama ninja party.
Redefining my relationship with deadlines.
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I’m new to public transport. I’ve taken trains and busses in London, Berlin, Glasgow and Paris (though Paris and I have got a spotty history as long time readers may know), but I’ve never relied on public transport as my primary means of travel. Until quite recently, my car took me where I needed to go. Part of my move from Cape Town to Berlin, however, is trading my little white Mazda for the U-Bahn. I quite enjoy taking the train when I haven’t got anywhere to be, if my girlfriend and I are spending a lazy Saturday at a farmer’s market, say. All I have to do is point myself in the right direction and off we go. Sitting on a train can be a relief in comparison to driving, there’s far less I have to focus on. There are, I have found, some drawbacks. For the first time in my adult life I am reliant on a schedule other than my own. I can’t control when the train arrives, how often it arrives or how late the last departure is. One evening this week I found myself absorbed by Google Maps, calculating how long each leg of my journey would take, working backwards from the last bus, trying to maximise the amount of time my girlfriend and I could spend together. I find that a lot of my week, a lot of my mind, really, is devoted to figuring out where I’m going, the best way get there (there are some train stations I prefer not to visit in the evening), double checking deadlines, last busses, earliest departures. As I examine the bus timetable, my stress grows like weeds in a flower bed. I worry whether I’ll make it to my girlfriend’s apartment in time for dinner. I anxiously estimate the best moment to leave the house. Whether I’m typing away, enjoying a meal or spending time with loved ones—a part of me is always at the bus stop.
The children I au pair have a totally different approach to schedules, namely ignoring them. This week is still school holidays, so that means mornings are for jumping on the trampoline, playing ninjas in our pjs and long, drawn out breakfasts. The kids and I do breakfast very differently. I spoon my plain yoghurt into a bowl, pour a handful of granola on top, mix, eat, down my cup of tea. The kids start by surveying the table, deciding which breakfast option looks tastiest. After deciding on a toasted bagel, the five year old applies thick, mountainous layers of butter and honey. He takes a bite before waving his bagel hand and his free hand in the air, chatting away about the solar system and making as many rude jokes as his parents will tolerate. His bites are small and infrequent, his focus dedicated to more interesting pursuits. Eating is a show that he hosts rather than a chore to be finished; he luxuriates in his self-made spotlight and never ending bagel. Though we always have a deadline, though the adults continue to push and tug the kids out the door, they seem mostly unfazed. They don’t complain when I ask them to put their shoes on, either. When it’s time to go, they go (for the most part), but they don’t let the threat of the school day overshadow their fun-focussed mornings.
I think the kids are in possession of something I’ve lost. And it’s not ninja moves, I assure you that I have retained and perfected my pyjama ninja skills. It’s their devil-may-care attitude, the one that often requires my patience, that I no longer have at my disposal. My deadlines, the things I plan for and rush toward, are often accompanied by fear and anxiety. The weeds sometimes outnumber the flowers in my garden. Whether I’m trying to catch the last bus or sign up for a language class, I’m often fearful of the consequences of being too slow. I’ve found a language school in Berlin. It’s the perfect distance from my apartment and my girlfriend’s, it’s the right price, the classrooms seem nice; I really want to go. Not only that, I feel a lot of pressure to start as fast as possible. My visa only allows me to stay in Germany for a year so if I want to stay for longer (which I do), German fluency is my biggest asset. The next round of classes begin next week, but I fear that I may not be enrolled in time; there’s a lengthy placement test that I didn’t foresee. If I don’t get in, it’s one month less that I have to learn German, and a little closer to being kicked out of the country in eleven months and three weeks. My rush to meet deadlines, trains or otherwise, leaves me spinning.
I don’t want my emotions to be so easily influenced by trains and schools. Bigger milestones too: I fought against anxiety when I was unsure whether I would get my visa in time to start work in Berlin (my visa, which should have taken four to eight weeks to be processed, was granted in four days). I don’t advocate for behaving like a five year old in all aspects of life, but I believe that I can learn something from his attitude towards deadlines and the pressure that comes packaged with them. The children I au pair seem to always be focussed on the now. Not only that, but they allow the things they enjoy to engulf their attention: they savour their food, they indulge their imaginations, every conversation is exciting. The things that they can’t control take a back seat. When the time comes, they face their chores or the school day ahead, but the impending unpleasantness doesn’t affect their free time in the least. I realise that I have more responsibility than a five year old, but even in my free time I tend to concern myself with what comes next, dividing my attention. I very seldom focus so wholeheartedly on my meals, my conversations, my surroundings, my dreams. I allow the worries around my deadlines, year plans and weekly schedules to detract from the now. I know there is a time to work, and when I work I am good at isolating myself from distractions. Off goes the phone. The same is not true of my personal time. Maybe I could stand to be a little more focussed on fun when it’s time for fun. There’s more than enough time to worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
If I ever miss the last bus, I’ll rent an escooter and tell you all about the adventure. If you enjoyed this journal, please share it with someone you love.