yoga. observations. and generations.

to be continued...

later.

yoga. observations. and generations.

on a saturday afternoon.

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.

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.)

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.

GO BEYOND FEAR

beyond fear takes you into the place where love grows,

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

BEYOND MEANS TO FEEL YOURSELF.

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.

GO BEYOND THE RIGHTS AND THE WRONGS.

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

GO BEYOND TO FEEL THE ONENESS OF THE UNITY

sing.

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.

GO BEYOND REVENGE.

the greatest moment in our lives

is when we allow us to teach each other.

GO BEYOND TO FEEL THE ONENESS OF THE UNITY.

sing.

singing takes you beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond.

TAKE THE JOURNEY INSIDE OF YOU.

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.

WHAT DOES LOVE HAVE TO DO WITH IT?

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.

you can listen to these words here,

a spiritual message written by Tina Turner - inspired by Deepak Chopra & Rumi

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.

yes.

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.)

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.

already.


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.

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.


sometimes,

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.

photos from la madone.

Desiderata...

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.

"Desiderata"

- Max Ehrmann -

Desiderata...

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.


yes,

the world is unfolding. just as it should.


tonight,

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?


anyhow,

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.

desiderata...

playing games...

shadow games...

while waiting at train stations

with the little detours in life.

susanne. et moi.

being playfully silly.

once a little while ago.

saturday morning... coffee in hand.

And above all watch,

with glittering eyes the whole world around you

because the greatest secrets

are always hidden in the most unlikely places.

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.

- Roald Dahl -

good morning...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.


oh. there's so much i've been wanting to babble on about.

random thoughts. of this and that and this again.


i've wanted to write about gaylene.

and about secret garden parties.

i've wanted to write about wonderfully lazy sundays

swimming in the quarry, sleeping in the sun.

i've wanted to write about magical summer nights

and the lovely cécile

and about purgings. sifting thru the little things.

making room for the bigger things.

and sometimes we go thru purgings of the mind

and the heart

and not just dresser drawers.


and i still never told my story of paris

at the feet of lions and the wedding ring.


or of the beautiful anna netrebko with a pretty flower ring.


but maybe those are things i'll get caught up on yet.

or simply write about other precious moments as they come along

and come to life.


in a sweet way,

i like to think that every day holds and shares its precious moment.


and so i find myself with a smile with each new day

and the wonder of wondering.

because its the surprise of the unexpected,

the good unexpected moments

that i love best.


open arms. open eyes. and an open heart.

ready to simply embrace

life. and love.


and susan is on her way over for a few days...

a wonderful friend that i can embrace tomorrow night.

and that too leaves a smile on my face!


anyhow...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.

sir nicholas henderson...

Sir Nicholas Henderson

1 April 1919 – 16 March 2009

"Henderson was a toweringly handsome man of enormous charm and affections.

His throwaway manner disguised a rapier-sharp mind.

He was a Scarlet Pimpernel among ambassadors,

a romantic hero with an extraordinary quality of coolness.

Nothing ruffled his good-humoured urbanity,

his glamorous, deeply English style."

The Guardian

photograph taken on an august day.

once upon a time. in london. the café rouge.

every now and then, you meet strangers along the way.

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


and that was my moment

of having met

sir nicholas henderson.


over the years,

this is a photograph that i have treasured

that always brought a quiet smile upon my face.

and with each and every time i looked back at this photo,

i found myself remembering.

and seeing that moment. being in that moment

once again.


we were sitting in the café rouge. knightsbridge.

claudia and i were slowly on our way back to the airport,

after a weekend together for one of our

"let's meet in the middle of the world" weekends.


and there was such an energy in the place,

the energy of all the people and all the strangers.

and it was a good energy.

it felt like there were so many stories wanting to be told

if you just took a moment to look. to watch.

and in that sense,

to listen

with eyes. and with heart.

it's when you listen not to what you simply hear,

but to what you feel.


and i needed to capture a few of these moments,

these listenings and these feelings.

i needed to. and i wanted to.


and that's when this man walked in

and took place just a few tables away.

an older man. a gentleman.

he had such a grace about him. an elegance.

something so striking and so intriguing.

there was something friendly. and sincere.

something genuine.

his presence was something gentle.

and even with the years his face held or the white of his hair,

there was something boyish about him. almost playful.

and i could sense, there were so many stories he could tell

and so many stories he could share.

and i had this longing to listen.

to be taken on a little journey with the stories.


there are times i can be timid with the camera.

unsure and uncertain if i'm allowed to invite myself into a moment

that doesn't belong to me.

respect. boundaries.


but on this particular day,

i think there was a courage. or many just an intuition.

or simply something you emanate. radiate.

and the world opens its doors to you.

it opens its eyes to you.

and its heart.


i still remember that moment that i took the camera in the hand,

i know i had a smile on my face.,

and i know that i didn't look thru the lens,

but i simply held the camera. and i simply looked at him.


and that's when i realised,

he allowed me to watch. he allowed me to wonder.

he allowed me into his moment.

and he had a smile on his face too.


i felt i had to speak with him,

simply to let him know,

that this wasn't just a photograph taken

for the sake of a photograph,

but rather because i was captivated,

and because i felt there was such an aura about him.

and i told him, i would like to send him this photograph too.


he smiled at me again,

shook my hand and said he was fascinated as well.

the way i looked at him with sincerity and a curiousity.

and that he could tell i was someone that took life and people

and that what surrounds me,

with a sensitivity and an awareness.

and that is a rare virtue. something to be valued.

and then he said,

"hello. my name is nicholas."


he asked me if i had a piece of paper and a pen.

i went back to the table to get my purse

and pulled out a book.

i always have a book.

to simply write thoughts. write moments.

to write little manifestations throughout the day.

and then he wrote down his name. his address.

and he smiled again and said

"i look forward to seeing that photograph."


at that moment, i only took a quick glance

at the letters and the words he had written.

i thanked him and wished him a wonderful day.


it wasn't until i got home that evening that i pulled out my book.

sir nicholas henderson.

that was his name.


i think i felt a bit more of the familiarity in that moment.

and of course i had to google.

oh for the love of google.


and that's when i found another smile on my face.


as a child growing up,

i was fortunate enough to have teachers that left their impact on my life.

grade two and mrs. moritz. she was one of those teachers.

she taught me about honesty. integrity.

and awoke an interest in politics.

i think it was in grade two

that i fell in love with pierre elliot trudeau.

and to this day,

i find him to be one of the most passionate and powerful,

literally liberating politicians there ever was.

he too had a grace. an elegance. and yet his unconventionality.

and always his red rose that he wore on his lapel.

and although i was in grade six

when the falkland islands crisis came to be,

it was something that i followed and was so very aware of.

it made me question more about politics, about relations.

and i remember going back to mrs. moritz

and holding conversations.

wanting to learn. wanting to understand.

pretty heavy when you're in grade six

and everything else that really mattered those days,

was who was the most favourite girl in the class

or playing joan jett and the black hearts again and again and again.

or falling in love with simon le bon.

i was eleven and hello. welcome puberty. and growing breasts.

or reading judy blume books.

does anyone remember "ralph"?

and then there was the falkland islands.

and to this day,

i base many of my own personal thoughts and theories

of a very strange british and american political relationship

and what i consider,

apparent silent vows to back then.

yes. rewind time. 1982. the falkland islands.


and that's when i realised,

i knew the name.

sir nicholas henderson.

he built relations. and he built ships.

and then he built bridges.

relationship bridges.


it's been a while since i held this photograph in my hand.

it's been a while since i held that piece of paper in my hand.

and tonight for some reason,

i had to pull it out of a box

and out of a frame.


and then i suddenly had a regret.

because i never sent that photograph after all.


so maybe what i want to say,

is thank you for that smile.

and thank you for that moment.

simply because...


every now and then, you meet strangers along the way.

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


but they make a difference

and they become a part of your life.

and the stories you write in your life.

and the stories you share in your life.

sir nicholas henderson.

reminding the self....

reminding... the self.

once again.

the miracle is you.

oh how i adore this woman...

lovingly known as sark!

how to be really alive!

live juicy. stamp out conformity.

stay in bed all day. dream of gypsy

wagons. find snails making love.

develop an astounding appetite for books.

drink sunsets. draw out your feelings.

amaze yourself. be ridiculous. stop

woryying. now. if not now, then when?

make yes your favourite word. marry

yourself. dry your clothes in the sun.

eat mangoes naked. keep toys in the

bathtub. spin yourself dizzy. hang

upside down. follow a child. celebrate

an old person. send a love letter to your

self. be advanced. try endearing. invent

new ways to love. transform negatives.

delight someone. wear pajamas to a

drive in movie. allow yourself to feel

rich withouth money. be who you truly

are and the money will follow. believe

in everything. you are always on

your way to a miracle.

the miracle is you.

cherry trees...

seeing clearly.

illuminations. of light

the katrin sessions.

today.

i walked thru the garden

and picked my first cherries from the tree.

it felt like that first taste of sweet.

i simply stood there,

reaching out and reaching up...

and what was it that pablo neruda once said?

"i want to do with you

what spring does with cherry trees..."

and i found a smile on my face.

today, it felt like there was magic in the garden.

and magic in the day.

i saw my first rose that came to bloom.

augusta louisa.

with her orange and peach and pink.

and it's just a day or two,

and then my peonies,

will hold their promise too.

i saw the first shades of lavender,

and the shy white purity of my jasmine.

with each and every day,

it feels like its all promising something new.

you know,

life amazes me at times.

simply, the little things...

like a garden in spring.

and cherry trees.'

and what amazed you today?

what made you fall into that glorious wonder of wonder?

capturing light...

glimpses of saturday morning

and the katrin sessions.

capturing light, as it falls thru a window

upon realms of the aura of beauty.

there was much that i wanted to write today.

simply little ramblings of thoughts. happenings.

things that make me smile these days.

and maybe even those things,

that carry themselves heavy on the heart.


but i've come to suddenly notice,

that sunday has almost come to past

and it's leaving me content with just the quiet

and the still of the night.


so instead, i'll simply and quietly share a photograph or two

from the katrin sessions. yesterday.

and i'll slip outside with a glass of wine,

sit on the steps and feel the soft hushed wind and gentle fall of rain,

gaze a little at the skies

and maybe see a star light, star bright,

to make my wish come true tonight.

and i'll open my arms and open my heart to a new day

and a new week.

and hope she's good and wonderful for all of us.

thailand. and back again.

sacred. and mystical.

ancient stories carved

in the pasts of yesterdays and tomorrows.

and this is where we stand now.

just a quick note to say hello.

and i'm home again.


i arrived back from thailand

late last week.

and i still feel as though i'm caught

in the wonderful blur,

of being in two places.

moments along the maps

of here and there.


it was simply a time

to take a deep breath.

inhale and exhale.

and in the same sense,

be absolutely overwhelmed.

with wonder.

with the wonder of colour. and sounds and smells.

or the wonder of contradictions.

cultural contradictions.

the wonder of pulsating streets.

and then the wonder of solitude

watching the morning sun as she rises.

or the wonder of midnight hours

lying under stars with the lull of the sea.

it was about a hand filled with white sea shells

and a heart filled with the momentum of life.


yes. i'm home again...

in the wonderful blur,

of being in two places.

moments along the maps

of here and there.

taking that daring chance...

From 3rd to 17th April 2009,
the artMbassy Gallery in Berlin will be showing the "Best Of"
from the Fashion Photography Contest on Hair,
"New to the Eye", by Sebastian Professional.

Around 130 creative people from across the globe
sent in more than 1.100 photographs.
A selection of the best (about 50 exhibits)
will be on display at the exhibition.
After its premiere in Berlin, the collection will be on tour.
Exhibitions are planned for Frankfurt, Vienna and Zürich.


(excerpts from Sebastian Professional Press Release)

back in december,

isabelle had asked me if i could do a few photographs

for her at the salon.

simply for a project that she has in mind,

showing women and men of different faces, generations,

different colours, different cuts.

the idea was to show personalities

and the beauty that each has in themselves,

while still keeping the story on hair. and style.

it was a good day. it was a wonderful day.

we laughed together. we talked together.

and to be honest,

i believe that for a few of the women, even the men,

it was almost like an unveiling.

as though seeing themselves in a different light

or from a different perspective.

photography is about telling stories,

but in a language that requires no words.

photography is about capturing an essence,

and a moment in time.

it's about documenting. and it's about reflecting.

and maybe it's a cliché,

but it's not just about seeing with the eye,

but also seeing with the heart.

anyhow,

isabelle then came up with the idea,

that we should send in the one or other photograph

for the "new to the eye" competition from sebastian.

i was a bit hesitant.

sebastian has some of the best hair and style photography out there.

avantgarde at its finest.

provocative. evocative.

and although i was pleased with the photographs,

i just didn't think that i could be parred with that.

and i didn't think that i could stand a chance.

but isabelle didn't let easy.

and close to the very last minute,

i sent in two of the photographs taken that day.

so now it's my turn to say...

thank you for being so god damn stubborn with me my dear bella.

and thank you for being a "best of" in my own life...

because we made it!

we're a part of the exhibit. a part of the collection.

we're a part of "new to the eye".

and i like to think that the magic we stirred in those girls,

was the magic they stirred in us.

you see.

it's all about reflecting. reflections.

and taking a chance.

about taking that daring chance...

waiting for spring...

waiting for spring...

as she blossoms.

quietly. slowly.

passionately.

this glorious promise she keeps.

and as she awakes.

and restlessly playfully stirs...

you feel and you see

her open arms. and her open heart.

hello again.

it's a been a while.

a long long while...

but like with a good friend,

you simply start off where you left off.

and it's as though not a day,

not a week nor a month has passed.

or maybe it's like spring.

one day you simply wake up,

and you know she's there.

you might not see her just quite yet,

but you feel her.

and you catch yourself with a smile.

knowing that in her own way,

she was there all along.

------------

sunday. sweet sunday.

that's what today was.

it was about spending the morning in pyjamas and with cups of coffee,

sitting around the kitchen table with a friend.

it was about getting dressed in my favourite flowered skirt,

a jean jacket and a scarf with a pair of rubber boots

and saying hello to the garden.

it was about pruning roses for the first time in my life.

and it was about the smile on my face,

simply to see that they survived the winter. and me.

(do i dare admit, i think i broke every gardening rule

there ever was to break...)

it was about planting white peonies

and digging in the dirt with bare hands

and about pulling out the weeds. one by one.

it was about grabbing another cup of coffee and sitting on the steps,

simply content and thinking just how good things can be.

and beside me on these steps, was my pot of heather.

my pot of irish heather.

and i took it in my hands, just to take a closer look,

and i so had to think of jacinta.

she brought me that heather last september.

as a little gift from her cooley mountains.

she placed it in my hands and told me,

i need to plant this, to always remember how strong i am,

to remember how real my dreams are,

and what it is that lives inside me

and what it is that i have to do.

jacinta. she simply has something magical about herself.

something wise, but something so beautifully magical.

and i was just sitting there, holding that pot of heather in my hands

and remembering what she said.

i suddenly received a text message

simply saying

"ange, i just so had to think of you right now.

i've been thinking of you a lot these past few days,

wondering how you are...

but suddenly, that thought was stronger than ever

and i wanted to let you know.

it feels like spring here in ireland today,

it's lovely and i'm going into the garden.

so strange, because it's almost as though you're here.

love, jacinta"

i was at a loss words. and i couldn't help but smile.

never ever tell me, that thoughts can't travel,

and that thoughts can't be felt.

over time. over space.

it's the power we have.

and it's moments like this, that simply remind us.

there's more to tell about the sunday. and about life.

but for now,

it's time to find my way to blankets and bed.

and simply say good night.

waiting for spring...