That wall …

Photo via Unsplash by @dieguito15

This weekend, springtime hit. Suddenly. Like a squall or a rug pulled out. Only gentler. As if it wanted us to know we’re still on its mind after all this time.

In Kreuzberg, Berlin, where we live at the moment, the change was palpable. Suddenly there were people everywhere. Every bench occupied, every cafe and falafel stand crammed full, long lines at the bakery, and - on Sunday when other places close down - improvised sidewalk “bars” at the corner shops. It felt not unlike the desert after rain: every cactus blooming, every seed suddenly alive. It’s not like these people were randomly here, it’s that the warmth and sunshine made them bloom.

Early Sunday, I decided to head out in a new direction, just walking without anywhere specific to go. The cityscape changed gradually, from canal path to busy city street to modern mall development, until I stood before a wall entirely covered in graffiti art.

Huh, I thought. That’s weird. A wall.

It took me a minute to recollect where I was.

This is where I wanted to write something clever about the walls within. The ones that persist even though we identified them ages ago. The ones we try to intellectualize away with our own personal “graffiti” of rationalization and skillful skirting of accountability. The ones that surprise us, still, every time we come up against them, even for the umpteenth time.

But it’s hard to be clever about internal barriers, just like it is hard to be eloquent about the spring. It’s a feeling. And feelings, like colors, are subjective and difficult to describe.

Here’s what I do know. The better we get at identifying our personal walls and limits, even to ourselves, the easier it is to scale them.