On the Other Side of Bad

It was five years ago, on an insignificant day in November, that I experienced my anecdotal revelation. At the time I was heading towards the tail end of a student stereotype: a backpacking trip through Europe.

After days of overnight busses, leisurely train trips, noisy hostels and an eye-watering amount of junk food, my friend Caitlin and I were in Berlin and it was raining. Again. Germany had welcomed us with cold, damp arms and a never ending sheet of grey skies. Our days spent exploring the capital city were soaked through. We trudged into the Berlin Cathedral to escape the drizzle one afternoon. I handed over a few euros to a tall man in a dark green jacket who nodded slightly as he pointed us towards the doors to the church’s interior. 

Over the years, I have seen my fair share of churches; wandering in and out without having any notable reaction. But for some reason, on this particular day, in this particular church, it was different. 

Something tiny and momentous happened. 

Inside the church, there was magnificent silence. A soft, golden glow fell over the pews and danced across the ceiling. The pipes of the massive organ piano reached for the curves of the dome. Sculptures, statues, columns and mosaics embraced the vast room. Stories of saints were told above the final resting place of German kings and queens in the tomb below. People sat and prayed and wandered. I walked slowly forwards holding my breath. 

If a stranger had looked at me right then I doubt they would have noticed anything miraculous. Maybe just a young traveller wearing boots that were starting to fall apart and a not-so-waterproof jacket. Or simply someone marvelling at the beautiful church. 

All I could do was stare silently while the blood rushed in my ears, panicking slightly at the hot feeling in my chest. After I determined that I was not in fact having a heart attack, it sank in that the flash of warmth I felt was actually pure joy and wonder. It disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. Brief and breathtaking. 

My memory wrapped around the moment like a long lost friend, making sure I wouldn’t forget the feeling anytime soon. Why there and why then? Why that church? Was it because I was finally warm and dry? Was it the fatigue or a weird side effect of being home-sick? 

Was it God? I still don’t know.  

What I do know is that it was undeniably good. And, for me, in a world that can at times feel overwhelmingly bad, remembering that “good” is possible is crucial. 

(Not so great) photos of the Berlin Cathedral thanks to a series of unfortunate events (involving my phone and a toilet).

This blog started as a story about hope. I wanted to write about getting to the “other side of bad”. I also wanted to write about what I felt that afternoon in the cathedral – an experience I have always struggled to capture fully in words and, as such, rarely talk about with, well, anyone. But the more I wrote and read over, the more simple and naive my idea of combating bad times with good moments felt. And ironically, the worse I felt. Over the past few months I have been trying to decode the whirlpool of feelings and ideas and emotions swirling around this tiresome mind. An impossible task really. However, as time has passed and I have come back to this piece over and over again, the core idea has held true for me. 

In the context of a period of personal and global upheaval (pandemics, poverty, politics – you name it, 2020 dealt it) the simple idea of good vs bad was appealing.  

The universe had taken one look at my plans, scrunched them up into a neat little ball and tossed them into the abyss. It left me with an unbearable sense of freedom. I could start anew and alone and attempt to walk any path I’d like – except the one I thought I had wanted.    

During all of this, I found relief in realising that when my life feels scattered with experiences that make it hard to breathe, I find comfort in the moments that take my breath away. That moment in the cathedral was one of them.  

But duh, Heather, isn’t that obvious? “Just think of good things”. Yes and no. You can’t just paint over the bad with a new layer of good and expect everything to be okay. That’s not what gets me to the other side of bad. 

Life is an impossibly balanced set of scales. Good and bad moments lie on either side. Delicately and carelessly weighed. Mind-twistlingly nuanced. Without warning, we can tumble into the Realm of Bad. 

Disasters happen. Pandemics rage. Mountains burn. Cancer takes our loved ones. Economies crumble. Our minds betray us. This earth is suffering. Bullies win. We fail even though we tried our damnedest. And we learn that, sometimes, love isn’t enough. 

These things are not always our fault, our choice or even in our control. “Bad” things are relative like love and pain. But the reality is that they happen. And to put it incredibly indelicately, they are shit. The news is often a tidal wave piled high with negativity and panic; crashing down and chased close behind by the next rush. Our social media feeds are submerged too. Even when we switch off, these things still happen despite the blank screen. 

It all sounds a bit hopeless to be honest. But, dear reader, I did say that this was going to be a story about hope. 

So what do we do? How do we remember what’s on the other side of bad?

It’s the simple possibility of the good that helps keep my chin up.
(This simple possibility is a piece in the puzzle of self care. Talking, learning, leaning on loved ones and asking for help when you need it cannot be emphasized enough). 

Nowadays, I call what I felt in the cathedral a ‘wow moment’. These moments can be anywhere and everywhere. Remembering the feelings of joy and wonder remind me that as shit as the world can be, it can be just as great. And that knowledge helps my mind shrink the wave by a few meters. Wow moments are the moments that take our breath away. They don’t need to happen in the context of bad. They can simply just be. They traverse time, distance and language. They can be huge, colossal, life-altering events. Or small moments that break through the cracks of everyday life with a few extra rays of sunshine.

These are the things that make your heart beat faster or steadier; when your chest swells with pride or wonder. The times that show that while bad moments happen, and we can’t always stop them, they are not infinite.  

Simple? Yes. Cheesy? Definitely. Idealistic and naive? I don’t think so. Holding fast to the possibility of the wow moments helps me and that is what matters.   

Once I pinned down that feeling for what it was, I started to experience it in different and unexpected places. Little and big. For some it could be religious or it could be a miracle; for others it could be hearing an old, long-forgotten favourite song. Maybe seeing your family brings you the warm and fuzzies. Or being able to try something new and exciting fills you with joy. It could be laughing until you have tears in your eyes or it could be witnessing a simple act of kindness. 

You define your wow moments.  

And when things are unequivocally bad (because they will be) remembering that these small moments of living well are possible helps me stand a bit taller against the crash of the waves. It’s not about denying the bad or seeking impossible permanent positivity. It’s about remembering that the possibility of good is never too far away; whether it’s a memory, hope, faith or a belief in the future. 

Now, you might ask, where do you go after having such a life affirming experience between the pews of the Berlin Cathedral?

Easy, you go up. 

From the outside, it’s hard to miss the impressive green-hued dome that crowns the cathedral. Inside, visitors can climb the 270 stairs up to the dome to stroll around the narrow walkway and admire views of the city. Caitlin and I chose to do the almost-vertical trek and the stairs had my heart racing (not in a good way). We made it to the top, stepped through the door and saw… grey. Good old rainy Berlin. 

With darkness there will be light; with loss there is love and with bad, there is also good. With the Berlin Cathedral, there were many stairs and a not-so-great view but at least we made it to the top. 

The next time you’re faced with bad, try to hold onto your wow moments. They’re just on the other side.

Having my photo-thunder stolen outside the Reichstag in Berlin (and loving it).

PS. If you find yourself struggling in the world at the moment, reach out and talk to someone who can help. Our words are magic, especially when we share them.