When I was 16 I wanted to fly to El Hierro, to visit my father there over Christmas. As El Hierro is the smallest of the Canary Islands, I had to fly to Tenerife and take a small plane from there to El Hierro. I was tired and when I got on a local bus that would get me from the Southern to the Northern airport I hoped that this journey would soon be over so that I could get a rest. The weather turned from sunny to cloudy and a storm was coming up. When I entered the Northern Airport to catch my “small” flight, I still had to wait for 3 hours until it would be announced over the loudspeakers and monitors. I tried to take a nap but the constant announcements in English, Spanish and French kept me awake. When finally “my flight” appeared on the screen it said that it was “delayed”. I was annoyed but still had my hopes high that soon, I could get some sleep in the apartment that my father had rented in El Hierro. Another two hours later I read that the flight was “cancelled”. Although a true storm was raging outside the airport and the people waiting for my flight were nearly the only ones left in the building I could not understand that the plane simply wouldn’t come to “pick me up”. I was cold, exhausted and had no idea what to do next. The airport began to close down and I learned that we were not allowed to sleep there. In my head I was –against all odds-still hoping that I could get to “my father’s island” by ferry. I talked to some tourists but they assured me that they had just come from the harbour and that the ferry wasn’t leaving because of the storm. We got together in a taxi and found a hotel nearby. The next morning, when we arrived at the airport our flight to El Hierro was delayed again. As if it could “speed” things up, my thoughts were circling around the plane that I “wanted to draw by”. I was fighting an inner “war” because I wanted to get out of this frustrating situation. When we saw our plane landing, I was full of joy. This however, didn’t take long. We got on the plane and it took finally off. However, the strong winds were still going on pushing our plane from “behind”. The plane lingered and I was caught by fear. I was totally tense and this time I understood that we could actually die trying to “fight the storm”. Next to me sat some Spanish teenagers from the local football team. They saw my anxiety and said encouragingly: “ꜟTranquila! El avion sale” (=“Calm down! The plane will arrive safely.”)

I was surprised how cheerful everybody around me still was. While I seemed to “fight” against the circumstances, they gradually accepted them- going along with “the flow of life”.  The flight however, became a trip out of “ups” and “downs” because the plane “fell” a few meters down every now and then. When we finally arrived on the small airport of El Hierro I was relieved but also totally stressed out.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I believe that I still “waste” a lot of energy and time in not accepting how “life goes”. Like with 16 I still try to “change” everything by “fighting” it –in my head. But –as I have learned only recently- this is as impossible as it is to change another person. I seem to have high expectations of my life and everyone else around me. It is only lately that I begin to understand that the only reasonable thing to do is to “let it go”. I can’t help it, if things don’t go “my way”, can’t help it if people see things differently. But there is the possibility of an “inch of freedom”: By deciding which “way” I am going to take: The one battling against everybody and everything or the one accepting that this is just so and that I can take a deep breath and take my dog for a walk. And this is what I wanted to share with you, dear readers, that sometimes we have a choice to “be happy” or “follow the old paths”.  Love

Renate Weber