Tag Archives: berlin

Red Light, Green Light: Lessons from the Copenhagen Bicycle Commuters

In February 2020, I was in Copenhagen having my early morning coffee in a corner café adjacent to my hotel.  It was raining, and I was watching Danes going to work on their bicycles.  The traffic light turned red and a dozen commuters stopped their bikes and waited.  I looked up and down the intersection and could see there were no cars coming from any direction. I expected they would do what many Americans would do – seeing it was safe, resume their pedaling through the red light.  But the cyclists patiently waited for the light to change. In the rain.  At peace.  The light changed to green, and off they went.

Four years later I was in Berlin and observed the same phenomenon: pedestrians obeying the red crosswalk signal, even when it was safe to cross.  My impatient American-self pleaded with me to cross, but not wanting to reveal my tourist identity, I waited.  Instead of being in a hurry, I became more aware of where I was; “present in the moment,” as the saying goes.

For the rest of my trip, I did my best to practice this discipline at crosswalks: welcoming the red light as an invitation to pause and reflect.  I grew to appreciate it.

Last spring, I shared a story about a group of indigenous porters who had been hired by Westerners on a journey.  After three days of relentless trekking, the Westerners had a sense of pride that they could cover so much ground in just three days. But that night around the campfire, the porters said they would not go any further the next day.  The Westerner asked why.  The response: “…we went so quickly yesterday that we must wait here for our souls to catch up with us.”

In the years I was involved at La Casa de Maria Retreat Center, I saw countless people arrive who had been allowing themselves to work nonstop; even as their body and spirit had been flashing a red light that it was time to slow down, they had pressed on. Now they were burned out. They’d leave their car in the parking lot and, eventually, leave their cell phone in their room. They would begin to slow down. Avoid the news. Nap. Walk.  Hike.   Meditate.  Read. Contemplate. Enjoy the food. Sleep in.  After a few days, you could see the difference in their faces: they were calm, alert and optimistic. Their personal sense of identity and purpose had returned.  As they packed their cars and drove away, they were ready for the green light of re-engagement.

In the last two weeks, I shared my experience of spending five days in the hospital in late June followed by six weeks of daily antibiotic injections.  I am free to do many activities, but there are others I cannot do — swim, play golf, and travel out of town (I had to bow out of three trips we had planned). It’s as if I was charging into summer, looked up, saw a red light, and came to a stop.  A familiar voice within me has been restless, looking for reasons I could charge ahead.  But another voice is inviting me to see this as an invitation to pause and take stock of my life.  I am working on a personal reset and curious to see what I discover. I also look forward to the day when the light turns green.

“Mindfulness Invitations:” Berlin, September, 2024

Lead image: “Copenhagen Bicycle,” ar.inspiredpencil.com

Small Moments to Savor

As I was planning our trip to Europe, I explored the possibility of staying in a hostel instead of a hotel. I knew I was too old to sleep in a dorm room but wanted to experience the open and hospitable spirit I had known as a young backpacker.  For the stay in Berlin, we booked a place at the “The Circus Hostel.”  It’s a five-story building in the “Mitte” (central) section of the city, close to many points of interest.  They had a 2-bedroom apartment on the top floor available. My sister agreed we should try it.

              In the basement they have their own pub and small brewery.  On the ground floor is a café and reception area.  Upper floors are for the bunk beds and apartments.  As we settled in, I began noticing the posted signs.  On the sliding glass door leading to the balcony:

The notice to set out when you want maid service:

On the wall next to the elevator call button:

A similar playful spirit was on display in nearby cafes.  French fries are very popular in Belin, and a busy place across the street had this window:

I didn’t go to Berlin expecting to eat Mexican food, but appreciated this sentiment:

Not far from Sigmund Freud’s Vienna home and office where he probed the hidden recesses of the human psyche, we found a brewery/pub that offered more than two dozen pitas with your choice of pizza-like filings (including tuna, camembert, cranberry jam, turkey, olives, sour cream, onions, hardboiled egg, tomato sauce, etc., etc.).  On the wall was this timeless question:

I don’t know if Freud pondered that dilemma – for him a bigger question might have been about how many cigars were enough.  But after hours contemplating tragic historical events and staring at modern expressionist paintings, these were “welcome signs.” Small moments to savor along with new tastes and friendly places.