Today's stories were overwhelming and intense, and I have a lot more to sort out mentally after this morning's session. But what helped, more than anything else could have, was that we continued our day after wrapping up the dialogue part. Slowly, in bits and pieces, we resettled together and found a new norm. In literature, there is always a new normal after the dénouement of a story; today was the practical application of that structure*.
We spent a little bit of time at the old synagogue on Oranienburger Straße, which was unremarkable and, unfortunately, not too interesting. But then we sat at a café, refueled with cappuccinos and streuselkuchen, and talked--sometimes about Holocaust-related things, but mostly not. We walked around the city to do some exploring and shopping, mostly joking around and taking pictures and yelling when we couldn't find one another. We met up again to go to dinner at the Ampelmann restaurant, where conversation jumped around, sometimes touching upon the Holocaust, but always continuing on.
Undoubtedly, the stories we share during dialogue bring us closer--there is no way they couldn't. We sit in a circle and, aided by a translator/facilitator, tell secrets we may not have ever said aloud to anyone. I have found myself verbalizing concepts I didn't know I felt or thought until they came out of my mouth. This is unsurprising. But it's the time we spend not talking about what we're here to talk about--on breaks between stories, on the bahn into the city, sitting at dinner, holding up purchases for approval while we stand in the middle of the Gendarmenmarkt--that really creates this group. We have been here for two days, and it seems like weeks already. I feel like I know these people on a level I haven't gotten to with friends I've known for years.
One of the facilitators calls One by One her family. I am lucky to have an incredibly supportive family and group of friends, who are proud of what I'm doing and excited to hear all about this when I get back. This is different: I can't quite explain it, but there's something going on here where the twelve of us, who really could not be more different, probably seem like part of some weird multinational family reunion when we're standing at the Hackescher Markt bahnhof laughing and speaking garbled Gerglish (Engman? some combination of the two).
None of us can escape from the tragedy that binds us together. It's already there, and it's an irreversible part of all of our pasts in a way that is more similar than we could have ever believed. But while we're here, we're finding and creating joy everywhere and anywhere, almost all the time, and in every possible manner. Even if it's not obviously gleeful (comparing purchases from the Ampelmann store), conscious (attempting to navigate towards an H&M in the middle of a rainstorm), or verbal (eating--universal joy), we're creating something on top of the foundation that we were placed into.
This group--we, these people specifically--are here for a reason. We are besher't. I was nervous, for many reasons: I'm the youngest here by ten years, and that besides the next youngest, everyone here could be my parent; try as I might, I can be judgmental and picky about people; and did I mention that half of these people are descendants of Nazis and Nazi sympathizers? That all seems so odd now. I really can't put into words what it's like being here, with these incredible people to whom I'm now tied.
The circumstances under which we are here are weighty and difficult. People get uncomfortable when they catch bits of our conversation at restaurants. Sometimes I get uncomfortable when I catch bits of our conversations at restaurants. But at the same time, I am thoroughly enjoying myself. It feels odd to be so joyful; I almost wrote wrong, that it feels wrong to have so much happiness when we are part of a group like this, where the content matter is so dark. But we all carry our burdens, and while they're different, each of them rests on all of us. We pass our stories along to one another, which helps to lighten the load, but in some ways, engaging in mutual happiness is the only way to continue the dialogue.
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