In the last few weeks, I’ve noticed something.
Not loud.
Not intrusive.
But always there.
The swans.
Every time I go to the water, drink my morning coffee, or simply take a short walk along the waterfront, they are there.
Not because I’m looking for them.
More as if I always end up exactly where they happen to be.
There is no plan.
No destination.
And yet … something keeps leading me exactly there.
I stop and watch them.
And for a moment, everything becomes quiet.
Not outside, but somewhere within me.
Recently, I was at a café by the water. They have a really beautiful outdoor terrace with a view over the water. The weather was simply beautiful. “Kaiserwetter,” as we would say in Germany.
So I sat there, drinking my coffee, when suddenly he was there. The swan. Completely alone, right in front of my table in the water. He swam around there for quite a while, enjoying the sun and grooming himself. Until eventually, he disappeared.
A little later, he came back with another swan, and together they glided across the water.
It is the same at home. I’m lucky enough to live directly by the water. Here too, at first there was always only one alone. By now, he seems to have found his companion.
Swans are such wonderful, powerful animals. They radiate security and elegance. Their grace is impressive.
They look after each other and remain loyal to one another.
At some point, I continue walking.
As if nothing had happened.
And yet I take something with me that I cannot name.
Maybe it is the thought that there is also a swan within me, waiting to unfold and perhaps also find another swan swimming on the same wave.
And then there is this rabbit.
In the past, he was shy.
He disappeared immediately as soon as something moved.
Now he simply sits there.
As if he had decided not to run away anymore.
As if nothing could disturb his peace.
And the strange thing is …
He always appears whenever something inside me changes.
Not visible.
Not tangible.
But noticeable.
I no longer try to explain all of this.
In the past, I would have searched for reasons.
For logic.
For a clear connection.
Today, I simply observe.
Things do not happen because I control them.
And perhaps not because I understand them either.
But because they are there.
And because they want to find their way to me.
It is similar to this feeling that has been accompanying me for quite a while now.
This quiet knowing,
that something is moving.
Not suddenly.
Not loudly.
But constantly.
And sometimes it does not reveal itself in words,
but in moments.
In glances.
In thoughts.
In things that keep appearing, without being called.
I am still here.
In my everyday life.
In the life I am currently building for myself, piece by piece.
And at the same time, there is something
that exists alongside it.
Not tangible.
Not predictable.
But there.
Maybe they are simply swans.
A rabbit.
Coincidental encounters.
Or nature speaking to us when we listen very carefully.
I have stopped needing answers immediately.
Some things do not need to explain themselves.
They reveal themselves.
Again and again.
And eventually …
you understand them anyway.
Janina Gutsche 