Britta's Letters from (and sometimes about) Berlin

Friday, 20 January 2023

Snippet: Fortune favours fools

That was a saying I sometimes had to listen to from my late father - and now I heard his voice clearly speaking to me again. 

He was right. 

I was very, very lucky under the circumstances - got only one not too deep clean cut. 

Fate had given me only a slap on my fingers ("Idiot!" fate hissed - I protested "But all guidebooks say you should never take pars pro toto - or was it vice versa? - it was a foolish act, but I am not an idiot!" "You were", my Guarding Angel intermeddled with a mild beatified smile). 

                                             Agreed. Yes, I was.  


So: what had happened? 
As always, I went on my balcony in the morning, lit the star-blink-string, which the triplets adore so much, 


and then I wanted to "lit" the electric candle which hides its fake being in a beautiful glass container. 

We had had minus 9 degree at night. 
The pillar candle was frozen into the glass. 
The switch of the candle is in the foot of it. 
I tried to free it. 
Didn't work. 

It was very early in the morning and maybe my mind was not only sleepy but frozen too - the only excuse I can find - so: I pressed the glass with the left hand and pulled at the candle with the right. 

Klirr!!!

The result you see above: shards - and I felt it: a cut in my left hand, between thumb and forefinger. Luckily not soo deep. But blood. 
I was too shocked to think of "red as blood, white as snow" - I hastened into the bathroom, could not find any plaster - oh, good, a spare one hid in my little cosmetic bag - and after applying it I sat down, hand in the air. 

I thought of WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 

Stopped these thoughts, thinking of my New Years resolution (one of a few): "No drama queen anymore!

(Besides: I had no audience). 



PS: I had lots of plaster as I later found out. Maybe before it was   plastered around my brain...


 



 

14 comments:

  1. It's good that it was not more serious. Another saying is that we need to learn from our mistakes.

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  2. Dear Emma, yes, I was lucky. To learn from that - I don't know if one can: of course I will never press a frozen glas in my hands again - but I was surprised that I didn't even thought about the consequences when I did - I just did it. That's how accidents happen...

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  3. I know that I have had many 'close shaves' across the years when accidents have happened that could have been far worse, if not life threatening.
    You just have to thank your lucky stars, and hope the luck continues.
    I dont think that we necessarily learn from our mistakes as accidents are usually the result of an impulsive action.

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    1. Dear Rosemary, yes, and I am very, very thankful - and a bit shivering because of the realisation that sometimes it is only a small step from "normal" and "completely different".

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  4. My thinking is, "accidents happen" to everyone. Sometimes the outcome is okay and other times a bit of a disaster. Your cut from broken glass could have been much worse. Luckily, you averted a disaster.

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    1. True, it is a very thin line, Susan. And I am very thankful.

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  5. I am so grateful you escaped lightly, as you had no audience to appreciate your drama queen act. (But I've never thought of you as a drama queen!)

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    1. Thank you, Joanne - and I thought about what I mean with drama queen: I mean my very vivid imagination - it does not stop to show me what could have happened - so I have to tell myself: Look how it is.

      On the whole I love audience and play - the triplets are wonderful in joining in - we are a layman Shakespeare Company :-)

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  6. How lucky you are, dear Britta! Fortune may favour fools, but also the brave; and you were very brave! No tears or drama, and just a little bit of shock else you'd have found your plasters first go.

    Shall we draw a line under this mishap and say no more, thank you, we were just testing our mettle for the new year and have come up a little shaken but still intact, so don't need any more of this and would rather it to be smooth sailing, please, dear Fate! (I can wax a little on this as I, too, had a not dissimilar encounter this month, when the Plan had been for No Mishaps this year, thank you very much!)

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  7. Dear Pip, you made my day! As your comments travel far, I see them often in the morning, and then the sun shines!
    Yes, lets draw a line under this mishap - of course I am highly interested what yours was - but maybe you have already drawn the line - so let's forget the strange start of January (more than one thing that didn't go as I had expected) and look with courage, humour and expecting the good into the future.
    "Une, due, tre!" (Guess what I re-read at the moment).

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    1. Georgie-mio!! Too easy :)

      [shhh ... I did trip over in the street. Yes, "undignified" and "public place" feature as hard as I fell. No dancing these past 2 weeks :( But now, dust ourselves off and sing tra la! Let's start January afresh!!]

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    2. Yes - first I wanted to try it with "humour in furniture", but then I thought: "That's not easy".

      I feel with you about tripping and falling: the shock is heavy when one falls down (at the moment I read a very interesting article about "shame" - and when we think it through, there is no reason on earth why we are feeling undignified when we fall - I love the German saying: "Fall, reset your crown, go on" - ha, dignified royal) - but not to be able to dance is a double punishment.

      And yes: let's take a big brush to paint a big coat of dark blue paint over our misfortunes - we survived and that is main thing.
      Au reservoir!

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  8. Dear Britta,
    I am very sorry to be informed about the unfortunate accident and the fate of your wounded finger. Luck is not always on our side despite our best endeavours to get things right. I send you all my best wishes for the speedy recovery. If you are in need of consolation, I must tell you that I am particularly prone to injury. I cannot be sure if it is a combination of creative zeal, carelessness, incurable desire to have one’s head in the clouds or a neurological glitch, I have had my fingers burnt quite literally. Each time when it happened, I solemnly pledged I shall be more circumspect in my future conduct. But since then, there were a few occasions when I came into close contiguity with the disaster (the most recent one involved with the toaster – very little further need be said on that front).

    Your topic of candle lights and the unfortunate injury make me think of a line from the great Sufi poet, Rumi, which I shall leave you with: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

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    1. Dear Anonymous (I still try to guess), thank you for your empathy and words of consolation! Your description of your proneness to accidents made me feel with you - burning one's fingers (real or literally) is awful. I do hope the episode with the toaster is over and your finger healed well.

      I love Rumi - and I love that quote, thank you!
      Sometimes enlightenment does not come easy, I agree, it might hurt, like a cut or a fire - and those insight one never forgets, but sometimes enlightenment also comes through beauty. As Rumi also said: "Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.”

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