you can generate speed without touching the ground,
but not instantly.
surfskating
in the beginning you push hard,
too hard — a lot of movement, no forward motion.
then something shifts.
a small change,
weight placed at exactly the right moment —
and the board responds.
push, release,
and already the next movement is there.
not separate,
but connected.
each turn setting up the next,
each one already carrying what comes after.
and something else changes:
you don’t push anymore —
you stay with it.
you feel where the next moment is going,
place your weight into it,
just enough,
then let go again
before it slows you down.
and suddenly
you are not creating speed.
you are inside it.
and i tried to force it.
not just here.
more effort,
more pressure —
trying to make things move.
but they wouldn’t.
until i stayed with it.
a continuous curve.
like riding a wave that is already there.
the moment you are in
already connected
to the one before
and the one that follows.
and if you find that rhythm,
if you stay with it,
movement stops feeling like effort.
it starts carrying you.
snowboarding
icy slope.
steep.
a woman is down on the piste,
a few meters below me.
she is trying not to slide.
i am trying to pass.
one clear thought:
don’t get closer.
i slow down.
at the same time
i see it coming.
my line drifting
slowly
towards her.
all i see:
the space between us closing.
my edge slips.
a soft, clumsy collision.
a half roll-over in the snow.
it stops me,
makes her slide again.
finally she gets back on her skis.
“nix passiert.”
and in my mind:
of course.
my focus was on avoiding the collision
not on my line.
you don’t go
where you want to go.
you go
where you look.
around intubation
night shift.
3 am.
a child breathing hard.
high flow already high.
the room tight.
everyone feeling it.
intubation is close.
you can feel it
in the way people look at the monitor.
in the silence between words.
and the moment you start
focusing on it —
it gets harder.
so you shift.
not away from the situation,
but into something else.
small adjustments.
position.
flow.
time.
less noise.
less tension.
the team settles.
the parents breathe with you.
everything is ready.
tube.
ventilator.
plan B.
but you don’t move there.
even though you could.
you stay
with the child.
with the breathing.
with the line
out of it.
watching closely.
feeling where it might go.
not forcing it.
staying with it.
and slowly
something changes.
the breathing softens.
space returns.
and the next day
he smiles.
and no one talks about intubation anymore.
and you know:
holding the line
was enough.