„Stutz“, a Netflix-documentary by actor Jonah Hill about his psychiatrist Dr. Phil Stutz, is the best piece of content I’ve consumed all year. Here’s why I think everyone should watch it and why I think it has the potential to change our lives.
First of all, let me add a disclaimer: This is the first time I am reviewing something like a documentary. Usually this place is about my travels and experiences but in the future you will hopefully read stuff like this more often. As always, I’m super grateful for any sort of feedback. If you’re reading this you probably know how to get in touch with me anyways. So here we go.
„Stutz“, eine Netflix-Dokumentation von Schauspieler Jonah Hill über seinen Psychiater, Dr. Phil Stutz, ist der beste Content, den ich in diesem Jahr konsumiert habe. Hier sind die Gründe, warum ich denke, dass jeder ihn sehen sollte und warum ich glaube, dass er das Potenzial hat, unser Leben zu verändern.
Als Erstes möchte ich einen Disclaimer anbringen: Dieser Post ist das erste Mal, dass ich einen etwas rezensiere. Normalerweise geht es hier ja um meine Reisen, Abenteuer und Erfahrungen. In Zukunft werdet ihr solche Dinge hoffentlich öfter lesen. Wie immer bin ich sehr dankbar für jede Art von Feedback. Wenn ihr das hier lest, wisst ihr wahrscheinlich sowieso, wie ihr mit mir in Kontakt treten könnt. Als dann, auf geht’s
A new cycle begins. The school year in Austria has started again. And traditionally with that, the new scout year starts again as well. More than overdue to write a few paragraphs on the big highlight of every scout year: The summercamp. If there are actually some among you, that have never had anything to do with scouting (Where are the rotten tomatoes? Into the pillory with them!), the following video might give you a glimpse of what Scoutcamps are all about.
Ein neuer Zyklus beginnt. Das Schuljahr hat wieder begonnen. Damit beginnt traditionellerweise auch ein neues Jahr für Pfadfinder:innen. Längste Zeit, noch ein paar Absätze zum großen Highlight eines jeden Pfadijahres zu schreiben: dem Sommerlager. Falls jemand unter euch ist, der noch überhaupt gar keine Berührungspunkte mit den Pfadis hatte (Her mit den faulen Tomaten, an den Pranger mit ihnen!), gibt euch vielleicht folgendes Video einen kleinen Einblick.
Showering, doing the laundry and sleeping in a bed. Things that might seem normal to most. If you are a Scout during July and August, these things are not a given at all. Because these months make up summer camp season – at least in the Northern Hemisphere. For instanceI just came back from Croatia where I had a blast with my group of 16- to 20 year old Ranger and Rover scouts.
But every 4 years, the World Organization of the Scout Movement holds a very special event. A World Scout Jamboree (WSJ). 2015 I had the privilege to attend the 23rd WSJ in Kirara-Hama in the Yamaguchi prefecture in the South of Japan. Roughly 34.000 Scouts from 153 countries and regions all across the globe made their way to Japan. I was one of about 8000 so called ISTs. The International Service Team is in charge that 26.000 scouts may experience a smooth 10 days at the WSJ.
„Try and leave this world a little better than you found it, and when your turn comes to die, you can die happy in feeling that at any rate, you have not wasted your time but have done your best.“
This quote goes back to Sir Robert Baden-Powell, a British Army officer and the founder of the world-wide Scout Movement. And if I may say so: It is very ingenious in it’s banality.
As some of my loyal readership might know, I joined the Scout movement when I was about 7 years old. Or my parents made me join, I should say. As you can imagine, I’ve certainly been made fun of for saying that I am a Scout. „Have you helped an elderly lady across the street today? Do you sell Girl Scout cookies?“ You get the point. Kids can be assholes. However, today I am convinced it has been one of the best decisions my folks have ever made for me. Shoutout to Irmi and Klemens, I’ll be eternally grateful!
30. The big Three-O. Drei Jahrzehnte. Ein Runder, wie der Volksmund sagen würde. „Wie fühlt es sich an, 30 zu sein?“, bin ich in der letzten Woche und auch im Vorfeld schon gefragt worden. Eine Frage und ein Anlass, der mir gewichtig genug erschien, diesen schlummernden Bären eines Blogs aus dem jahrelangen Winterschlaf zu holen. Was Bären mit Schmetterlingen gemeinsam haben, wird am Ende dieses Texts vielleicht klarer sein. Oder – wer mich kennt, ahnt es schon – halt auch nicht.
Auf die Frage, wie sich 30 sein anfühlt, meldet sich sofort mein innerer Günter Neukirchner: „Die nächste deppate Frog!“ (Bitte nicht böse sein, falls du zu jenen gehörst, die mich das in letzter Zeit gefragt haben. Hab dich trotzdem lieb!) Aber was antwortet man als 30-jähriger, männlich gelesener, beseelter Fleischhaufen auf diese Frage? Es fängt ja schon einmal damit an, dass mir die längste Zeit meines bisherigen Daseins sowieso nicht bewusst war, was ich gerade fühle.
30. The big Three-O. Three decades. A round one, as the Austrian would say. „How does it feel to be 30?“ I’ve been asked that quite a lot over the last week and even before my birthday. A question and an occasion that seem important enough to bring this slumbering bear of a blog back from its years of hibernation. Perhaps at the end of this text it will have become more obvious what bears have in common with butterflies. Or – if you know me, you might have guessed – not.
My instant reaction to that question has been something along the lines of “Stupid question, next question!” (Please don’t feel offended if you’re one of those people who’ve asked me that recently. Love you anyway!) But how do you answer this question as a 30-year-old male animated pile of flesh? It starts with the fact that for the longest time of my existence I haven’t even been aware of what I was feeling whatsoever.
The feeling of change
The reason for this circumstance is certainly worth a blog entry of its own. I’ll just boil it down to a mixture of „difficult social relationships between men and feelings“ + „fear of confronting one’s own emotional world (greetings from childhood (micro)traumas) + „lack of (self) awareness“. Which makes it all the more difficult to answer what a birthday feels like.
Some may (or have to, depending on perspective) count themselves among the illustrious circle of those who get to regularly enjoy my mumbo-jumbo. If you do, you probably know that in the last few weeks, months, maybe even 2 – 3 years I have tried to learn more about topics such as personality development, psychology, philosophy and also spirituality. And – who would’ve thought – that brought a whole lot of insight with it. I have already shared some of that in previous blog entries. With the end of the bearish hibernation, there will also be a lot to come. Buckle up, it’s gonna be a wild fucking ride!
One of those insights is definitely that everything is constantly changing. If the scales in my parents‘ bathroom had vocal cords (I don’t have one myself for good reasons 😉), they would sing you a song about it. Most of you will now think “Duh Captain Obvious”. But it is still a realization that – for me at least – comes along with a whole bunch of interferences.
Above all, the fact that there is no way to avoid and escape change. Therefore, we better embrace and accept aging and at some point our own demise. Sorry, if this happens to trigger existential fears in anyone. (The great team of Kurzgesagt has summarized this in a lovely clip) However, it’s part of the game as long as Silicon Valley doesn’t discover the philosopher’s stone. And as long as one doesn’t put their faith in reincarnation. But more on that in another post.
Returning readers may have noticed by now: This is not a good ol’ bearnecessities-travel blog entry. Just like myself, bearnecessities may well be going through some changes. But you’ll know what I’m talking about eventually.
In the first draft of this post, this is where I started blabbering about feeling like a cocooned chrysalis about to become a butterfly. Because change and metamorphoses and ladeeda. But to be honest: fuck that, butterflies my ass!
Frankly, I would have every reason to think turning 30 was really shitty and awful. Don’t get me wrong. I am quite aware of how ridiculously privileged I am. However, there’s a but. I am still being confronted with societal requirements, norms and expectations. And between us, sometimes I struggle coping with that.
“What? You haven’t accumulated any significant property? What, you still haven’t climbed the second step of the corporate ladder? What, you don’t even have someone by your side to increase life on this earth? Well, big PHAT “Yeeearp!” Social media takes it one step further. Stories, reels et cetera essentially suggest to constantly compare ourselves to others. Add some pinches of global circumstances that, all optimism aside, are going to challenge us. Et voila: Ready is your homemade Third-Life-Crisis.
Follow the honey, get stung by bees
Luckily, since last time I looked in the mirror – alongside marvelously thick chest hair – I still had a bear and not a butterfly tattooed on my chest. That is to say: Yes, loving all that change and development. But me personally, I don’t want to be irritated, seduced and led by my own social conditioning.
Again, I am aware of my extreme privilege. But my perspective is the only one I can authentically talk about. And to be frank: Your own conditioning, the oftentimes wrong believes we’ve taken on and the goals imposed by society is something that one may want to dismantle at some point anyway. Regardless their personal perspective and privilege.
With all the change in my metaphorical backpack of a character I’d much rather continue to follow the scent of honey, even if at the end of the day there is a hive full of bees waiting for me. I’d much rather screw up and learn from it. I want to go my own way and create my own timeline in this life. I want to collect experiences and memories that nobody can take from me at the end of the day. You catch my drift.
Embrace the paradox
On some given days, this works really well. On others, it does not. At all. Sometimes this… let’s call it “way to live one’s life” feels extremely motivating, almost euphoric. And on other days it feels depressing and sucks ass big time. But if the last few years have taught me one more thing, it’s that life is full of paradoxes and contradictions. It teems with dichotomies and duality. For me, it was a tough pill to swallow but life as an animated pile of flesh on planet Earth is goddamn ambivalent. And the way I see it, the only way is to endure, even embrace that!
Now you have your answer. That’s the essence of what it feels like to be 30. Getting older is awesome and awful at the same time. But once one has accepted that our earthly lives are finite and – loosely based on the Stoics – once one has internalized the concept of “Memento Mori”, one can really begin to live! And now I’m getting a butterfly tattoo, maybe even on my ass!