I just ordered a maroni soup, a creamy bowl of warmth to my body and heart on this early February day. It came with a piece of bread, as almost any dish in Germany, particularly here in the South.
I love this cafe. When I look down from the gallery I can see plants, flowers and colors all around. I discovered it the second time I visited this garden center, and I was so pleasantly surprised that from now on I can accompany my garden shopping trips with a piece of cake. They had these traditional oversized German-type cakes, the ones that I normally need to enjoy in a Kuchenladen alone because my husband doesn’t share my excitement for them. Today I went for the maroni soup, I was hungry and I thought it was a good compromise to get my dose of sweets and feed my hunger at the same time.
She sat at the table next to me. Her outfit was elegant and stylish, the light-green blazer was gently harmonizing with the contours of her face. Her socks grabbed my attention, they were somehow surprising, leopard-patterned. I guessed she was in her late seventies.
“Is it self-service or will the waitress come to the table?”
- she looked at me and I was glad to be able to understand her German and even more proud to have the means to respond to it.
She ordered that exact raspberry cake that I was contemplating before I opted for the soup instead. I slowly enjoyed my choice while she did hers. I kindly inquired how she liked the taste of her cake, and not much later she became curious to learn more about me.
We shared a few bite-sized conversations before saying goodbye to each other, and I embarked on the journey of carefully selecting the hyacinths in my winter garden.
“How nourishing it was to interact with an elderly person!”
- this idea stayed with me. Despite my efforts, I am so much trapped in my own bubble: both in my virtual and in-person social circles. They mostly consist of a certain age group, with a wide, but defined range of interests. Partially out of laziness, and partially out of comfort, I stay within this window and rarely interact with people outside of this bubble.
I grew up in a small town (village back then), where my grandmothers and great-grandmother lived next to us. It was natural for me to visit the old lady in the neighborhood, listen to her stories and play in her garden, or have ad-hoc conversations with people who had a different background than me.
In a certain way, it was a bubble, too. Living where and how I lived in Eastern Hungary meant that wealthy people were not part of my world, and struggle and despair were common guests, but age-wise it offered a more open and richer spectrum than the life I live these days.
Without making a conscious effort, our human environment can shrink to be a representation of our current worldview and it’s easy and comforting to go along with it. Stepping out of it and welcoming a richer population into our circles means opening up our minds, hearts and lives toward opinions, feelings and experiences that may have remained hidden and unknown to us yet.
It also comes with a promise of spaciousness: to live our lives more whole. Parallel, we’re embracing parts of ourselves that we neglected, disliked or left unexplored before. Through these new types of connections, we get a chance to extend the limits of our personality and what and who we consider to be ‘I’.
Are you curious to extend your limits and embrace your wholeness? Inquire about my coaching programs and explore what's possible for you and within you.