I don’t quite know what to say after perfection, that is after what I wrote the last time. Especially when anything I have to say this time will leave me looking like someone with a serious bipolar disorder.

But that’s the truth.

I came down to Tallinn and down to earth after Tartu bliss with a degree of reluctance. But things were alright. It was last Wednesday after I had had a lovely evening with M. in a cafe when something started to shift. I had walked her to her bus and on my way home I felt my mood changing and energy dropping, and I kept wondering about it as there seemed to be no reason for such a change. On Thursday I overreacted a big time when I got terribly mad at a good friend over a simple misunderstanding. That’s when I realised things were bad. And on Friday afternoon after a long and boring conference which I had to attend, I went to my office and had a panic attack. A strong one, for that matter. The kind that left me unable to walk for a while. On Saturday I managed a long day of teaching and lecturing but on Sunday I hit the bottom again - I got some news that knocked the air right out of me. I haven't eaten nor slept much for four days now.

That’s how much perfection there is in my life.

I still don’t know what or how this happened. I’ve got no explanation to give. But a doctor my auntie spoke to on Sunday said it looked a lot like overworking and burnout. He recommended two weeks off work.

Two weeks are out of question. But I’m in Tallinn airport at the moment, starting my week long Newbold trip any minute. And that is a gift straight from above, right at the time I need it the most.

I’ve been thinking about the whole experience, the blissful days I spent in Tartu and the last days I’ve been gasping for air and hope, and this is what I think.

We need good days. We need those days when it feels as if our feet didn’t touch the ground. God, we need them. They give light and air and fill our hearts with gratitude. But if I look at myself, there isn’t much I learn during these days, I don’t grow that much. I savor the moments and feel grateful and have a smile on my face while falling asleep. But goodness, how much I grow and learn during the times when news break my heart and when light seems to have gone out. Because they are the days I don’t have any energy nor wish to lie to myself, I can only hold on to things that I really believe in, all pretences are down, no delusions are left. If you asked me when I have learned the most about my faith and its quality, it wasn’t in the comortable classroom in Newbold with brilliant academics all aroud me. It was at my mother’s death bed. I’ve never learned so much about faith and hope as I did back then. And to a lesser degree, this is also what happened this past weekend. I learned a lot. About love and friendship, about the depth of forgiveness, about hope and future. About the grace of God.

I guess that’s why we need those days.

But brighter days are ahead, I am sure. There are friends waiting for me in the UK, The Lady and her office, the annual London date with Dr A. N. Sylvia’s Garden and Newbold library. Spring.

Such are the tides of life.