Friday, December 25, 2009

About Somebody

by Ingrid Prohaska

I was in an ugly mood that day. I remember only a few days in my life when I was in such a bad mood. The sun was shining outside and it was a really warm day in early summer but I had those destructive thoughts about my life. Well with one word I couldn’t stop looking on my dark side.
Sinking deeper and deeper into the swamp of that part of my soul I thought about what I couldn’t have reached yet and why I was such a loser.
Nearly on the bottom of my black thoughts I spoke out loud, “Is there anybody on earth who really needs me?” And I started crying.
My hand just reached for a handkerchief when I heard a gentle voice saying very shyly, “Hey you, I need you.”
I was really surprised wondering who was speaking because I was very sure that I was alone.
I looked around and saw - a little figure looking at me; expecting how I would react. The figure was hardly to describe, maybe half of a meter tall, somehow transparent like a piece of fog in the form of a little human, the contour very weak, but with a pleasant charisma, somehow like-able and somehow even familiar.

"Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Somebody,” the little figure answered, “and I need you. You can help me.”
“I don’t think that I can help somebody. I even can’t help myself.” I replied.
“But …” its voice sounded a bit sad, but then - this little figure actually started singing, “You are the sunshine of my life …”
I had to laugh, but immediately very serious again I said, “Stop singing. You make me laugh.”
“What’s wrong when you are laughing?” the little Somebody wanted to know and started singing again, “You are the sunshine of my life …”
“Stop it!” I shouted, “Don’t you see that I’m in a bad mood?”
The little Somebody looked at me very sadly. “I love you,” the little Somebody said very softly, “I trust you. And I know you can help me.” Its eyes looked at me very gently and warmly, and its words touched me.
“So, how do think I can help you?” I asked a bit more calm now.
“I know a place where a big treasure is hidden," the little Somebody said with twinkling eyes, "But I can’t get there alone. Look at me. I’m too little and too weak to get very far.”
“Yes, I see.” I answered and then I asked, “Is it possible that we met each other in former times?”
“Maybe,” the little Somebody smiled secretly.
“You look so acquainted to me.” I continued.
“Possible.” the little Somebody answered, “So would you please help me?”
“Alright then. - What do you think I can do for you?”
“Please follow me,” the little Somebody said, “I’ll show it to you.”
I stood up and walked behind the little Somebody. I didn’t know why, but I tried to imitate its kind of walking and the feeling that I knew this figure grew up more and more.

After a while we reached a lake and the little Somebody stopped, “The weather is fine. Let’s go swimming.”
“Swimming?” I asked surprised, “I thought you wanted to show me something.”
“Yes,” the little Somebody said, “Take off your clothes and jump head first into the water; I know you like the feeling when the water flows along your body and you hear nothing except the rushing of the water. I know you like just to feel the water and yourself.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I wondered, “but how do you know …?”
“So, come on.” the little Somebody said and jumped into the water.
I took off my clothes, still shaking my head of wonder, and jumped with a header into the lake.
And I enjoyed it so much. I had already forgotten what a great feeling it was for me, leaving all back and tasting the freedom.
When my head was out of the water again I looked for the little Somebody. I found it close to me kicking with hands and feet.
“Can you see the island in front of us?” the little Somebody asked.
“Yes.” I answered.
“I want to get there but I’m too weak to swim so far.”
“So am I,” I sighed.
“No, no, I believe you are strong enough to swim so far.” the little Somebody replied.
“Let me sit on your neck; I’m sure we can reach the island.”
“I guess it’ll take us at least one hour,” I said, “and I’m pretty sure - I don’t have the power to swim so long.”
“I know you can do it.” the little Somebody replied softly.
I looked at the island again, tried to estimate the distance again and said finally with a sigh, “Alright then, I’ll try it.”
The little Somebody smiled satisfied.

After a while I got a bit tired and so I reduced my speed. The little Somebody noticed that and suggested, “Swim on your back. The water will carry us. I know you like that.”
“Yes, I do indeed,” I answered wondering again why that figure knew me so well, “but I can’t see where we are moving when I swim on my back.”
“I’ll guide you. Trust me.” the little Somebody said.
“Alright then.” I said and turned my body on my back.
The little Somebody took place on my right shoulder and I saw that it was looking into the direction we were going to swim.
I really enjoyed the moving of my body on the water, while I was looking at the sky watching the clouds or keeping my eyes closed and enjoyed only the moving on the water. Suddenly I hurt my head.
“Ouch!” I said, “Hey little Somebody, you promised to guide me!”
“Just a piece of wood,” the little Somebody tried to calm me. “Take it square over your belly. It’ll help us.”
I did what the little Somebody suggested. It sat down on the piece of wood now and we continued our way more comfortably and without any hurry.

Finally we really reached the island. We climbed out of the water and lay down for a rest.
“Do you enjoy our journey?” the little Somebody asked.
“Well, it is hard but I like adventures.” I answered wondering about my words because - I had nearly forgotten that I like adventures.
After a while the little Somebody suggested to continue our journey. We walked along the shore. The little Somebody with its little feet walked slower than I wanted to go so I asked if I should carry it. Somebody took place on my right shoulder.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Through the Mirror

by Ingrid Prohaska

Walking through the life
the mirror always in front of me
no view into the future
only a look into a reflection of the past.

Du und ich - ich und Du
the only thing between us is the mirror.

Just a step through the mirror
is all I have to do
landing in the present
of the other side
the future lies in front of me.

Du und ich - ich und Du
will be one right there.

Just a step through the mirror
is all I have to do
finding more I can imagine,
even Jeanny’s* waiting here,
no need for desire anymore.

Du und ich - ich und Du
is one right now.

Just a step through the mirror
was all I had to do
which side is reality?

Die Zeit steht still.

You and I - I and you
eins sein right now.

* Special thanks to Falco and his “Jeanny”
Copyright © 2007 Ingrid Prohaska


Tuesday, December 8, 2009

The Girl in the Mirror

by Ingrid Prohaska

Recently I was asked about my life history and that reminded me on a CV written in summer 2007. That time I was attending my first english lessons. We had to do homework and should write a CV about ourselves or a person we wanted to talk about. I decided to introduce my class "The Girl in the Mirror".

I can’t remember our first meeting, but I know I met her when she was about 4 years old. There was an invitation to a carnival festivity in kindergarten. She wanted to be “Pippi Langstrumpf”. Her mother dressed her, made those typical plaits and painted freckles into her face. She looked out of the mirror and – I was shocked – and she started crying, “No, no mum that’s not me!” I really felt strange about her look.

I know I met her at the age of 10. She had a new haircut. She looked at me out of the mirror I think a hundred times that day. I thought she was really good looking. I felt like she was looking like.

I met her again at the age of 13. Her face had become spotty. I felt mercy with her, but – I didn’t like her face. I couldn’t feel like she was looking like.

I met her again at the age of sweet 16. She had got her first kiss that night. I thought, “That is a kissed girl looking like?” I missed something in her eyes.

I met her again in the age of 22. She lived together with her boyfriend. She had started a serious life, had started to wear serious clothes and had a serious haircut. I didn’t like the woman in the mirror. I felt strange about the woman I saw.

She split up, she changed the job, she started to study, she moved the apartment. She was on holiday. When she looked out of the mirror I was pleased to see her. I felt like she was looking like.

She worked too much, she had a lot of stress, she missed time for herself, she missed love, she looked for happiness. She couldn’t find what she missed. The woman in the mirror looked old, had hard features, small dim eyes, her mouth was just a line. I couldn’t stand the woman in the mirror. I didn’t want to feel how she was looking like.

She quitted her job, she took up her study again, she started to enjoy life. She was 36. When I met her that time I said, “Hey Lady in the mirror you look better!”

Sunday, December 6, 2009

About a Goodbye

by Ingrid Prohaska

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death and this story is about it. I thought a lot about if I should publish it, but for me that day is much more than the day my mother died. I think being so close to death was the most important happening in my life and since that day I have a new and for me a special view on living , loving and dying. For me started a new life that day.
I will leave you now alone with my story. I hope you will enjoy reading it.

I want to tell you a story, a fascinating one, a story which is maybe hard to believe and maybe you will call me crazy, but maybe you will find a piece of hope, a piece of love.

It all started with my mother’s heart operation on 9th November 2006. It was a very bad day in fact, the operation wasn’t as successful as the doctors had expected. It was nearly midnight when I left the hospital, the words of the doctor still in my head, “She has a two percent chance at surviving the night.” But I wasn’t allowed to stay with her; they actually sent me home, but they promised to phone if her end should come.

I went to the underground, only a handful people were waiting for the last train. I walked along the platform when I heard my mother’s voice behind me somehow above, “Hallo Puppe,” she said, “was ist los?” And automatically I started telling her what the matter was. I told her all I knew about the operation, everything I did that day, to whom I spoke, where I had waited, when I had a meal, when I smoked a cigarette. I told her every detail.

That was the day when I started speaking to her. When I was with her in hospital - they had sent her into an artificial sleep - I spoke to her, I told her everything from outside, about my everyday, told her everything I saw in the moment, told her stories about our past, and I talked to her about our future plans. I was sure she understood my words. Sometimes she moved her closed eyes as if she wanted to answer.

But I also spoke to her when I was not with her nearly the entire day. I talked to her from the “Good morning” when I woke up till the “Sleep well and dream something beautiful” when I closed my eyes for the sleep.

Four weeks went by speaking to her all the time. But I never heard her voice again.