It feels like we are all locked up in a big rubber ball. A rubber ball you can’t get out of, a ball that rolls and we all don’t really know where the journey is going.

I observe a lot of solidarity at the moment. I see people who care for the weak and vulnerable ones. People who give others courage and confidence with words and small gestures. But I also see the other side. People who think for themselves and don’t care about all the others. In all the conversations I have had in the last 8 weeks there was everything – fighting spirit, friendship, fear, desperation, laughter, encouragement, real friendship. It was all there before, but now it has all become much more intense and authentic. The feelings, the fears, the egoism, all of this has lost its protective cover and presents itself more exposed.

Crises scare me too. But never so much that my actions paralyse me. On the contrary, I think I was made for crises. They release energy in me, as if the inner energy reservoir suddenly expands and I am able to cope with the exceptional situation. But the intensity has its price. 12 – 13 hours of intensive crisis-working-days without a break. Despite yoga in the morning and the walks on the hills in the evening nobody can cope with this in the long run. Not even me. At some point I have to do an emergency stop myself. Get away from all the problems that need solving and just spend a day doing something completely different. For example cleaning the cellar, riding my bike around the lake, just emptying my head. I love to solve problems. That is my life’s mission. I really enjoy finding a pragmatic way out of a tricky situation. The harder the better. I don’t mind if it takes a long time. The solution of the Corona situation demands a lot from me, from everyone, from all of us.

Despite everything I am incredibly privileged. I sit in my fantastic homeoffice with a view, I am with my youngest all day (almost 24 hours like when he was born) and I am rarely alone. I can touch him and caress him, I can take him in my arms whenever he needs it. But still we both feel lonely very much. How do those feel who really are alone and lonely, whose hand no one touches or is allowed to touch. Not even it’s their last hours of life. I phone my mother several times a day, even if it is very short. Just to wish her a good morning and a good night, to ask her what she made for lunch and to make sure that she has still the will to live. Even though she is sitting alone in her apartment and can only share her worries by phone.

I wish for all of us that it will pass. Fast and faster even if I think rationally and suspect that we are still at the beginning. This situation could last forever. However I hope that everything turns back to normal soon.

To bring out a piece of the old traditions, I took the last Christmas cookies out of the freezer yesterday morning. There were not many. Twelve to go. I carefully unpacked them and placed them on the wooden kitchen counter. They were hard like stone, just frozen. Then I went to work. When I came into the kitchen at 2 o’clock in the afternoon (all my obligations did not allow me to do so before), there were 6 pieces neatly lined up. My youngest made himself lunch and divided the dessert fairly. 6 for me and 6 for him.

The cookies were very tasty. They reminded me of the great days of last Christmas. It did me the world of good. Not only in taste, but in spirit.

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