A few weeks ago, I wrote about returning to a place that was actually familiar to me. And yet, even then, I had the feeling that I would not be quite the same person when I stood there again.
Last night, that moment came.
I was at a concert again.
And maybe that was exactly the moment when I realized once more just how much my own perspective has changed over the past few months.
Because of course, there was the stage again. The lights. The music. The people around me. That moment when an entire room is focused on one person, and for a few hours, everything else becomes a little quieter.
Only this time, I felt different within it.
Not better. Not more important.
Just different.
At some point, the audience was asked who among us was not from Finland. Hands went up all around me, and I was about to raise mine too. But then I hesitated.
Because what exactly was I supposed to say now?
I was born in Germany. That will not change. But at the same time, Finland has long since become so much more to me than just the country I moved to a little over a year ago.
The woman standing next to me, whom I had only known for about two hours, looked at me and said:
“You’re Finnish.”
And I smiled.
Maybe because I have said so many times that my soul is Finnish. Maybe because sometimes home simply happens, without there being one particular moment you can point to and say that this is where it began.
And maybe that was exactly why those few words felt so fitting that evening.
Because I have noticed something shifting in another part of my life, too.
I have spent a long time thinking about how much meaning we give to the things we encounter along our way. And the further I look back, the less I believe that all these little moments are simply coincidences.
This story did not begin yesterday. In fact, it has been following me for years. And if I were to list everything that has crossed my path at some point and felt like a sign, it would be quite a long list by now.
Not long ago, for example, I was on my way to the Supermaket when I found a playing card on the street.
The Joker of Hearts.
Nothing particularly special.
And yet my first thought was not simply: There is a card lying on the street.
My mind immediately made the connection.
Maybe these are the moments when something inside you simply knows that there is more to what you are seeing than what is right in front of your eyes.
There is another story that still fascinates me. A few years ago, I received a Polaroid that came with an order connected to an album. One of those little things you might normally just put somewhere and keep.
I still have mine.
It is in my wallet.
There was a fingerprint visible on the photo. And at some point, I came across a post showing the photos being signed. There were 2.222 of them in total.
2.222.
A number that has had its own meaning for me for a long time.
I even have it tattooed.
And today, I sit in seat 222 at the ice hockey.
At some point, it simply becomes difficult to look at all these things as completely unrelated.
Maybe these are the moments when something inside you pauses and says: Look closer.
I believe very strongly now that signs can guide us. That some things appear exactly when they are meant to. That people, encounters, and sometimes even seemingly insignificant little things can be part of a path we only understand later.
What is meant for you will find its way to you.
What is due to you will fall into your hands.
And maybe that is why I no longer try to minimize these things.
I see them.
I notice them.
And I listen to them.
Because when I stood in front of that stage again last night, I suddenly found myself wondering whether that perspective was even mine anymore.
The woman in front of the stage.
The one who watches.
The one who waits for something to happen.
Maybe that role was right for me once.
But somewhere along the way, it started to feel too small.
Not because I no longer want to stand there.
But because somewhere along the way, I realized that I am not meant to experience my own life from the perspective of a spectator.
And maybe that is the change I sensed back then, when I wrote about that evening without knowing what would be waiting for me when I returned.
It is not about suddenly having all the answers.
It is about knowing my own answer now.
I know what I want.
And maybe that also means that some stories eventually cannot survive on one person waiting for something to happen.
You can read the signs.
You can trust.
You can give life the space to do its part.
But eventually, there comes a point when you stop asking whether something is meant for you.
You know.
And then you can let life play its part, too.
Maybe that is why something felt like it had started moving again last night.
Not necessarily visibly.
But noticeably.
And maybe sometimes that is all you need to know that you are still on the right path.
Signs lead you and everything falls into place.
Maybe not immediately.
Maybe not in the way you planned.
But if something is truly meant for you, I believe you do not have to chase it.
You just have to find the courage to stop standing in front of your own story.
Janina ❤️
Kommentar verfassen