Sunday, May 23, 2010

yoga. observations. and generations.

to be continued...


yoga. observations. and generations.

on a saturday afternoon.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

songs of irish seas...

- songs of irish seas -
blackrock, ireland
february 2010

just a little quick hello.

it's early morning and there's a wonderful hush of quiet around me.

with only the sound of spring and her birds singing.

and it's moments like this,

that simply feel so very awake. and aware. and alive.

it's a wonderful sensation.

and it has been a long while since i've written,

but when i woke up this morning, i just had this urge,

or better said, this little voice that wanted to speak out.

and i'm wondering what i dreamt last night.

i honestly can't remember,

but i do know that i dreamt, and dreamt, and dreamt.

and now there's all these little urges,

these little voices and thoughts

that seem to have woken with those dreams.

i think they were good dreams.

or maybe there's just something in the air today.

something good in the air today.

and i just wrote things down on a piece of paper beside me.

a bit of a "to do" list of things

which is usually what i do in the morning with my cup of coffee.

those little habits and rituals we have.

but today i decided, this list is going to be a bit different.

i guess in a sense, i want to break a habit,

or make an exception. or just leap over my own little shadow.

and simply see what happens when you do things differently

than you normally do.

but that's all for now.

early morning thoughts.

and walking out into a new and wonderful day.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

beyond. beyond. beyond.

an older photograph.
one of those once upon a time photographs.
yet still, and always,
a special photograph.

i needed to share this here. today.

words and a song, that have become a true and constant friend

these past days. these past weeks.

giving a passionate peace, giving an enlightening warmth.

gently reminding me. and maybe even encouraging me.

words that have become a part of the emotions,

and of the chapters (once written and still being written)

and of the journies (once travelled and still be travelled)

these are simply words, a song and a chant,

that mean much.

and i needed to share this here. today.

(and maybe it's a bit of a different way of saying...

merry christmas...

and may all your wishes come true.

and may you go beyond.)

nothing lasts forever,

no one lives forever.

the flower that fades and dies,

winter passes and spring comes,

embrace the cycle of life.

that is the greatest love.


beyond fear takes you into the place where love grows,

when you refuse to follow the impulses of fear, anger and revenge.


start every day singing like the birds

singing takes you beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond.

we need a repeated discipline,

a genuine training to let go our old habits of mind

and to find and sustain a new way of seeing.


prayer clears the head and brings back peace to the soul.



singing takes you beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond.

we are all the same,

all the same,

looking to find our way back to the source,

to the ONE, to the only ONE.


the greatest moment in our lives

is when we allow us to teach each other.



singing takes you beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond.


to become quiet to hear the beyond.

to become patient to receive the beyond.

to become open to invite the beyond
and be grateful to allow the beyond.

be in the present moment to live in the beyond.

start every day singing like the birds.

singing takes you beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond.


LOVE grows when you trust.

when you trust LOVE heals and renews.

LOVE inspires and empowers us to do great things

and makes us a better person to love.

LOVE makes us feel safe and brings us closer to GOD.

when you go beyond that’s where you find true love.

keep singing.
singing takes you
beyond. beyond. beyond.
a spiritual message written by Tina Turner - inspired by Deepak Chopra & Rumi

Sunday, October 11, 2009

la vie est belle...

these words and this thought
became a constant companion.
i wrote it on a piece of paper
and i wrote it on my heart
with each and every day.
la vie est belle... la vie est belle.
photograph taken in menerbes.

la vie est belle...

that’s exactly what it is !

i arrived back home from the provence late last tuesday evening. and as welcoming and wonderful and comforting as it is to always find your way back home, there was (and still is…) a hint of me that simply wanted to stay. just a little longer. or a whole lot longer. or maybe even a whole life time longer. and to be honest, i don’t even know where to begin with my stories and my tellings… the sharings of all that was and all that is.

and in some ways, some of these stories feel best simply shared with words in spoken conversation to a friend, or in the sweet smile of simply remembering, simply knowing and simply holding them close within.

it’s in moments like that, in moments of conversations or personal rememberings, that you keep it alive. that you keep it real. and it’s simply, ever so simply, these things and those moments that are a part of all what is and all what composes everything that is this wonderful you.


la vie est belle…

and there is such an energy and so many little wonders and goodness that feel as though they are twirling around me these days. with every day. and i want to spill it all. capture and recapture each moment. but i simply can’t. i just want to live it. each moment. as it happens. and awe and adore and breathe and be it all. i don’t even know if there are enough words. for the emotions. the sensations. and when the quiet moments find themselves, i simply take them for all the beauty that the quiet is. to reflect. to enjoy. and to simply let it be.

(and as i write this… another little wonder happened. these are the moments. these are the days. and in the midsts of it all. i simply find myself grateful. thankful and grateful. and simply happy…)

what are the things i want to share about those days of the provence? i’d simply rather say, “come on over for a cup of coffee… or a glass of wine.” and i’d simply rather tell you the stories as they open themselves. but also, because i want to hear your stories… i’d want to hear of the magic and the wonder and the little moments of your days.

i’d tell you stories about that sensation of knowing you’re starting a journey. and not just a journey to a destination, but the journey within a journey. listening to the inner voice. to that intuition. and finding the way. and not just on a map, but within yourself. (although sometimes I wonder why we can’t always have a naviagtion and gps that leads us thru life and not just along the road?). one of the questions that fell upon me in a gentle, familiar and reminding way was “worauf wartest du eigentlich… worauf wartest du?”. (what are you waiting for… what is it that you’re waiting for)”.

i’d tell you stories about the most beautiful countrysides and landscapes, colours as light and shadow play a game amongst themselves. of olive trees and cypress trees. and vineyards. beautiful, lush vineyards that teased you with new colours and the sweetest taste on your lips and tongue every day. I’d tell you of the old man that passed me on his walks every day, starting just with his nod of his head, then slowly to a “bonjour madame…” and then to a smile on his face with his “bonjour”… and finally seeing how I was becoming a part of his own every day and gradually graduating to a “bonjour madame… ca va?”.

i’d tell you stories of living in a beautiful house that held the passion and respect for days gone by and probably held a thousand and one stories of its own. but also of a beautiful house that wouldn’t be what it was today if it wasn’t for the beautiful souls that brought it back to life. la madone. la madone.

i’d tell you stories of having a car break down in the midsts of the luberon mountains and a quiet country road somewhere between bonnieux and menerbes. people stopping to help and then simply waiting,.counting stones. counting steps. waiting. laughing (as there really wasn’t much else left to do at that given point and moment…). having the woman that lived down the road bring me a cup of coffee. remembering to turn my face into the sun and just smile about it all. trying in my broken french to say thank you again, but help really is on its way (and then having occassional moments of wondering, if it really is… after about the third hour). and about just having the time to think of so many things. and promise to start going back to yoga once i am back home again too. but then, help did finally come with the tow truck. and thankfully, the tow truck wasn’t needed after all. the mechanic was determined it really was just the battery, after all… i’m a woman and i was on the phone and surely i let the car idle with music while i was talking? non? i refuse to answer that question. however, the first two attempts with the battery didn’t seem to be the answer. but then with a thump and a twack and literally a kick in the ass, it was the battery after all.

to be continued…

(i need to be up early tomorrow morning… on my way to munich.

and another story I have to share.)

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

seven more sleeps...

"Your greatest self has been waiting your whole life.
Don't make it wait any longer."
- Steve Maraboli -

an older photograph.
once. taken.
but a photograph, that will always mean a lot.
seven more sleeps.

and then i’m finally away. on my holiday.

france. the provence.

and i like to think i can feel it. taste it. smell it.


and tonight is the first night

that i realised, i don’t hear the crickets outside anymore.

maybe they already left last night,

or maybe the night before.

all i know is that suddenly i’m aware of the quiet i hear.

the change. of coming. and of going.

cycles and circles. these motions in constant flow.

and as much as there’s a gentle inner warmth of an autumn evening,

there’s that nostalgic sentiment of time that’s let itself be carried on.

there’s been much going on the past days. even the past weeks.

and again, i’ve wanted to write and share all those things here.

of the good things. of little wonders as i like to call them.

and of subtle moments that maybe don’t have much relevance.

but if you hold those moments, or the reflections of them

in your hand,

you see things in a different light.

and suddenly there is a relevance.

understandings. or simply pieces that fall into place.

and as always,

it’s the simple things, those subtle things

that usually have more strength or power

than we can possibly imagine ourselves.

desiderata. yes. desiderata.

and those little things

are like the pebbles and stones we cast into a pond,

playfully rippling their echoes.

and knowingly or not,

changing things.

somedays I feel like i’ve been casting pebbles.

and somedays i feel like i’ve been the pebble cast.

but most of these days,

i feel like i’m simply in the magical ripple and echoe of it all.

last night I went to ute dahmen’s reading of her book

aenne burda. wunder sind machbar.

a biography on the life of an amazing, an interesting

and a unique woman. a powerful woman.

the title of the book is based on one of aenne’s quotes.

“Ich werde zeigen, dass Wunder machbar sind”

which means,

“I will show, that wonders can be made“

and that’s what i like about that thought.

not waiting for wonders to simply happen themselves,

or “wondering” why they are or aren’t happening.

but rather making the wonders happen.

and maybe what she also meant in between those lines,

is in simply being the wonder yourself.

and i believe, the book just might be one of the books

that i’m taking along with me on my holiday.

although I have to also admit,

there are a few books that are piling themselves up

waiting and wanting to be read.

and that leaves me wondering,

what are the books that are lying on your bedside table?

or on your kitchen table and your living room floor?

i like it when books don’t always dutifully oblige

to simply being orderly kept on their shelves.

i have my books here and there and everywhere in the house.

yes. on shelves and in shelves.

but also on the floor. or on the window sill.

sometimes it’s almost as though I create places for my books,

as though to make them feel at home.

or an invitation of waiting and wanting to be discovered.

it’s as though books need open spaces. they need to breath.

to become a part of what’s surrounds us.

and sometimes I like to think that books also speak stories

aside from those written within and along their pages.

i like finding books at flea markets.

books i simply instinctively stumble upon.

sometimes it’s the cover of the book that lures and lulls me

(although it’s been said again and again,

never to judge a book by its cover…)

and sometimes yes, it’s simply the instinct.

and you open it up and read a line on an unknown page,

finding a sense of curiousity. or a familiarity.

and of all the pages,

that’s the one you turned to. that’s the one you found.

and usually it’s a lovely surprise.

it simply fits. it simply belongs.

one line in the middle of a story. and yet it’s complete.

and whenever i travel, there’s almost always a book

that travels back home with me too.

even if in a language i don’t speak nor understand,

but there’s almost always a book.

something, that simply lured me. and lulled me.

new books. old books. sometimes forgotten books.

and that reminds me of a thought I wrote a while ago.

on a scrap piece of paper that i slipped

into my own handwritten book.

i’ll have to see if i can find those words again.

maybe. later.

but for now,

i’m simply going to slip outside

my blanket, a glass of wine. and maybe a cigarette.

because peaking a glance out the window,

it looks like there’s a beautiful autumn sky

and a glorious heaven of stars.

tonight is the first night

that i realised, i don’t hear the crickets outside anymore.

and so maybe tonight is just the right night

in this different kind of quiet,

to say hello. and to say good bye.

to the change. of coming. and of going.

cycles and circles.

these motions in constant flow.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

explore. dream. discover.

"Throw off the bowlines.
Sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore. Dream. Discover."
Mark Twain.
la provence.
it's been a while now since i've been promising that to myself.
just a bit of time away
to explore. dream. discover.
and today, i simply said yes.
on the 30th of september
me, myself and i
are going to pack our bags and pack the car
and take a little long drive.
an autumn drive.

and find our way here.

la madone.
the beautiful la madone

simply time away

to read. to write. to day dream.

to play with the camera again.

to wander. and to wonder.

to take lazy afternoon naps

or to walk along the sea.

maze myself thru vineyards

and tempt myself in markets.

with antiques or simply delicious delights

to taste with the autumn evening wine.

but mostly,

just to take deep and passionate breaths of life again.

there's a wonderful phrase in german

die seele baumeln lassen...

is to let the soul sway.

and that's just what i'm going to do.

time away. alone.

and smiling at strangers

and smiling at life.

and all the apartments at la madone are a treasure,

but it was the renaissance that i really fell in love with.


we simply have to say yes.

and sometimes,

we simply have to be good to ourselves.

la provence.

it's been a while now since i've been promising that to myself.

just a bit of time away

to explore. dream. discover.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore, be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham,drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
- Max Ehrmann -


it's always been a poem... and a companion.

of words that i always carefully and fondly embrace...

words that need reminding. of words that need remembering.

words that need the here. and the now.

and yes.

words we need to carry along on the way.

i'm enjoying the quiet of the summer night.

the winding down, the coming down

of a long day. and a good day.

there's a soft breeze fluttering thru the window.

and i can still hear the crickets outside...

and oh how i love that sound.

it's like a soft lullaby of a summer's night.

and i have to admit,

i'm always a bit sad when suddenly a night comes,

and you realise they've gone. away.

and there's simply a different sense of quiet

that cradles itself around you.

that's the day, when you know

summer has passed...

and there's a change in the air.

things move. and they move on.


the world is unfolding. just as it should.


i had a wonderful lady here from the local newspaper.

i guess you could say it was for an interview

i had no idea what to expect and needless to say,

i think i was a bit nervous too.

what if i say the wrong things...

or what if i fall and stumble all over my thoughts and words.

yes. i tend to be a bit clutsy at times.

but the only thing i could keep reminding myself of,

was simply be yourself.

take a deep breath... and simply be yourself.

after all, isn't that the one thing that we're all best at being?


it's late. and it's night.

and the soft ssummer evening's breeze has become a fall of rain.

a luscious luscious summer rain.

and i'm going to slip outside, under the veranda

and under a blanket

and simply wrap the day around me...

to let it all unfold.