2007 / 2008

2 more days of 2007, then it's 2008. the fireworks are waiting in the floor already, in pink and yellow and red rockets. in the newspapers, some critical essays on blogging and all the unreglemented and unneccesary data masses the internet creates. at least that's obviously how some traditional journalists perceive it. it makes me wonder which pages they ever visited in the web - for me, it feels the other way round: there are more and more inspiring blogs out there, offering advice and reflections just when you are looking for it.

like these lines on resolutions, in a backlink from Reb Livingston, editor of NoTellMotel:

"Getting a jump start on 2007 resolutions -- hence I haven't been blogging.

1. Focus and work harder on outstanding projects (working on Shafer's book these past few days and I responded to all outstanding e-mail in my general mail folder, probably the first time all year).

2. Take better care of my health. Well, I half-started that. Back on the treadmill. Haven't improved the diet yet, there are still holiday chocolates to finish.

I try not to make unrealistic resolutions, mine are more in the vein of improvements. There was an AOL VP of Member Services (i.e. customer service) who was all about 1% improvements. The idea is we can always make a 1% improvement from what we're doing now and if we keep doing that, over time, wa-la, the noticeable difference.”(link)

i liked that: not planning to take huge steps, but take 1% turns.

and another interesting page, about habits – i found this one when following a link in lonely planet to an essay of Shelley Stile, who works with people who face changes in their life.

here’s a passage that sums the essay up in 2 paragraphs:

"Seek to develop new habits. If your life was run by bad habits then conversely it can be run by good habits you consciously choose. To develop a habit you simply must stick with for about three months and you are home safe. Just create the picture of what you want your behavior to look like and list ten habits that will get you to that picture of yourself.

It works the same with your life. Where would you like to be in ten years in terms of who and what you are and what you are doing? Think of ten habits that will get you to that Future Self and start today in adopting those guideposts. Work backwards from the future.” (Shelley’s blog)

all those thoughtful lines. today, i want to follow the path the last days sketched already: thinking about this year, and the next year – and then, maybe also make the larger step: thinking in longer time ranges.

where do i want to be in 10 years?

~~~

candle light rose beach time

it's 7 days to winter solstice. from then on, the days will grow longer again. maybe the rose here in the garden knew about this when she decided to start to grow a petal. in december.

plus, in the mail, a postcard from Italy - with a summer beach picture. from Hotel David in Cesenatico. i was there, in summer 2004. they keep sending christmas cards since then.

the skies, though, are neither fooled by roses, not by summer postcards. the sun is setting right now, as i type, at half past 4, to reappear after 8 tomorrow. the night will last 16 hours, with temperatures dropping below zero again.

it's candle light rose beach time.

cloud traffic

winter morning sketches
of thoughts
_________of dreams
on a paper
________in the sky
a white plane
---reaches
an invisible moon

~

time trips

it’s tuesday. november. one year ago this time, i was walking the black sand shores of Lanzarote island. now i am walking the snow of home – winter came early this year, freezing the roses and the last of the sunflowers.

but as time has it, those sunflowers have just started to grow again – in the new issue of Serene Light. here the link to the page that holds the picture, and a poem about them, written in April: almost an asana

more online moments: a month ago, i was packing bags for Crete. i knew i would stay in a place with ocean view – but had no idea how this view would turn out. well. it turned out too large for the camera. so i put a photo collage together – and just while there, came across a call for hotel moments from the newspaper “Zeit” – “time”. so i sent the panorama there.
now it’s up in time online: miramar view

plus – and this still feels strange – i did my first interview! it’s 4 pages long, and published in print in the magazine 34thParallel. there even is a preview of it online, with a travel photo (yes, that’s me in the middle!) – here the link: a journey into words

right now, i am focusing on the writing project i am part of: 7 writers from 5 continents writing a futuristic novel with entangled storylines. more about that, hopefully soon. and i am putting together the last pages of the upcoming issue of blueprintreview – as it looks, it will go live next week, and coming with a number of night moments.

it's a good time.

november

searching for words.
trying to feel the sand beneath my feet, gone now.

picking up pebbles.
remembering this poem named timeout.

cutting the last of the sunflowers.
the one that grew too late.

mixing up copy with paste, again.
which makes me end where i started.

~~

je suis symmetry

making coffee
i hear a bird, a girl
look out and fall into
a perfect moment

this symmetry of reality
meeting photography

this matching number
of day, of month

elves, it flashes through
my leafy mind, and also,
élèves.

today, je suis symmetry,
i say to the sparkling room
and wait
for another word door
to open, somewhere
in my mind.

~

halfmoon

half moon sky longing
a song of migrating birds
soon there will be snow

(posted via e-mail)

7 days

7 days to Crete. the island shore, approaching like a ship on the horizon of time. while i am swimming through a lake of things that need finishing first. painting the floor of the cellar room.
freeing the garden lawn from that bad weed. writing a travel tale for transitions abroad. putting together the 2028 letter to dzanc. and - taking time to smell the flowers. who will be gone when i return.

how many things will fit in those seven days? and - how to keep a good pace?

i will try to see it as a marathon. not starting too fast, so that i won't run out of energy halfway through.. which would be Thursday. which is - and ain't that neat - the day of Lujong. of space earth wind fire and... water.

transitions abroad, i think. they bring transitions ashore.

~

chrysan themes

october. a riot of colours, thrown in the air by flowers with names like serenades. chrysan themes. topin amburs. dew drops falling like tiny drums. bees humming, as if it was spring, not autumn.

it's gonna be a hard winter, she said.

maybe someneone should break that truth to the small sunflower who figured that these days were a great time to start growing, to weave first leaves, to develop an own curled idea of a petal.

it's gonna be life, the small sunflower answers.

~

what do you believe?

monday morning, and through my kinja, i stumble into a blog entry of my topography that opens this week with the grand question:

"So now I really want to know:
What do you believe? Do you have faith, or do you live outside it? How do you rationalize your fundamental view of the world? Can logic define it, or is something lost in translation?"

a question that is followed by thoughtful lines and more questions and quotes.

"I don’t keep a drawer of knife sharp words to define the shape of what I know. Tautology. Ignorance. Deism. How do you use the scientific method to argue the depth or scope of spiritual faith? How do you use logic as the basis for accepting or denying that which you cannot know about the movement of another person’s heart?" - Christina

“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” - Buddha

"I believe we are all spiritual beings, seeking those things that power, position, or possessions can’t satisfy. Faith is a journey. It grows when nurtured. It turns stale and stiff when ignored. All I can do is live my life in a way that speaks to the love and faith I have found, to be authentic and open as the journey unfolds." - Lyric

"I read a quote once stating that there are two easy ways to get through life: to believe everything and to believe nothing. Faith, obviously, falls somewhere in between. Which is exactly why it’s not easy. And I don’t believe it is meant to be." - Julie

~

those lines moved me. and like most, i found it equally hard to define the shape of my faith in words. for me, faith is connected to life energy. to feeling the world, to feeling with the world. to trust in life. maybe that's for me is coming from the experience that you in fact can go and leap into a white page, and there is a net of words, of stories appearting. that connection is possible, across continents, beyond words.

another thing the question made me think of - i read a zen line this weekend, written by a monk, a long time ago.

Just don’t seek from others,
Or you’ll be far estranged from Self.
I now go on alone;
Everywhere I meet It:
It now is me; I now am It.
One must understand in this way
To merge with thusness.
- Dongshan Liangjie (807–869)

it touched me. this concept of merging with the world, with the thusness of now. to not go astray and look for abstract concepts, but to take the way to learn and follow ones own heart.

it was good and unexpected, to start the new week, the new month with those thoughts, and adding my thoughts just as the church bells were ringing eight, just as the sun was rising.

~

welt ist überall

late afternoon. september winds, arriving from france, roam the trees here in the street, paint the grey sidewalks with whirls of yellow and red that keep moving. natural art, i think. leaf sculptures.

later i call a friend, and we talk about journeys to angkor and walks through autumn gardens. about long distance trips and short distance trips. about the time it takes to be in a place, to arrive there, to leave from there. leafs, i remember. leaves.

"die welt ist überall," my friend says -
"the world is everywhere."

~

world dart, blog play, ego politics

the first autumn days. temperatures dropping by 10 degrees. sun and rain and clouds, changing by the hour. on the weather page, a new link, leading to a geography game that shows the map of Europe, tells you a capital, and hands you a virtual dart to aim at the location. fun. especially east europe. here the link: Europe Dart

and more games: blogger has a new feature: a stream of photos that was just uploaded. a wild mix from all over the world, named play.blogger

apart from web games, an odd mix of news. like coloured clouds, politicians coming up with silly ideas just to make headlines - like the one who suggested to end marriages automatically after 7 years, or our inner minister who thinks virus-mails sent from the tax office might be just the thing to frighten possible terrorists. turns out he basically frightened the public. on the other side, our prime minister had the courage to invite the Dalai Lama. now she is named "witch" in the Chinese web pages. well, i thought. rather a witch with an attitude than a political-correct smalltalk politician.

now for a photo to go with this post ... how about this one, 346, taken one year ago? - i like the thought that it might pop up in playblog now, somewhere in the world.

fake fantasy memory

rita :: mae brown
comedy :: life
polar :: roses
perception :: memory
infected :: viral
fake :: honesty
relating :: three degrees
distraction :: attraction
gamble :: coins

unconscious mutterings, week 241.
& the photo.. photo friday, fantasy.

which altogehter makes it a fake fantasy memory. and makes me think of that article on neuronal scientists who discovered that our memory changes with every act of recalling it. that it connects with the situation that made us remember, and then is restored, slightly altered, in relation to the now. like a wiki entry that gets updated by current perceptions of reality. like sunlight reflected in the waterdrops of dusk.

~

listening to: Vanilla Sky
reading: Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

~

pink

minutes leap unheard
sunbeams smatter keenly, pink
cloud howls, petals blush

~

that was automatic poetry, slightly adjusted to this week's photo friday task: purple.
and more automatic musings, an oblique strategy for today:

Discover the recipes you are using
and abandon them

~

celestial tea

between night and morning
i wake from a dream
that doesn't leave a memory
get up in darkness
brew black tea

a cup later, still lost
in nocturnal musings
i open the window,
to let september air
touch my breath, lean out

and see her for the first time -
venus, dancing over dawn
while the moon sails so high
that it remained invisible
through closed glass.

~

3 unfinished thoughts

(1)
this flower, i found it here in the garden, underneath the peonies that had blossomed in April. now it is August, and this flower, it isn't even a flower yet. it is just three hairy green leaves. "and how will you grow there, in the shade?", i say. the flower doesn't answer.
so i go buy a terracotta pot to plant her into, to move her to a sunnier spot. still i worry that it is too late already, that the year won't have enough sun left for the flower to finish its growth, that it will leave her unfinished, green, without

(2)
flowers. they are female here in Germany. die Blume. she flower. the opposite of flowers are trees. they are male. der Baum. he tree. and then there is the third

(3)
it happened years ago, in another city. it was summer, she's sure of that, as the heat was standing in the street, dense and vivid, even in the late evening. they sat outside, her and a colleague, drinking another drink, basically to postpone the moment of having to step into the hotel, into solid, temperature-filled space.
maybe it was the heat that melted the line between being colleagues and being friends, she still isn't sure of it. all she knows is that at one point, they were miles beyond small talk.
"there's this concept", her colleague said, her eyes suddenly all clear and open.
"or more something like a wish for life - to never

~~~

photo friday, challenge "unfinished"

summer crossing

it's August, and i am wearing a sweater and socks. this is Germany, Middle of Europe, it really should be summer-ish here now, but temperatures are down in the cellar. and instead of sun, there is rain. and not just rain, but rainrainrain since Monday, to the point that rivers are starting to flood.

now the doorbell just rang. and i received a parcel from an online shop order. the nice thing is, they included a little inflatable gift. one that would be perfect for the season, theoretically. but now it looks both funny and sad: a blue water ball.

couldn't help it, had to take a photo of the ball, also because it oddly fits the book i am reading these days, a book that i brought from the library in the last week of July, assuming it would be the perfect read for the following month: Truman Capote's Summer Crossing.

~

photo friday, challenge "oddity"
listening to.. a band called AIR
reading.. stories in six sentences

recent publications

august. sunflower petals carried away by green birds. rain drops falling like stars. old letters in a box, taking me back to Asia. white splashes of colour on my shoes. and - words in various sizes and shapes.

- 20 minutes in berlin (short story)

- renditions of her (poem)

- rave / transition / one / swallow / asleep (5 poems)

- Arriverci (short story)

the whole list, here.

~

reading: Truman Capote, Summer Crossing
listening to: REM, Around the Sun

drip drop

rain, the weathermen had promised. the clouds arrived in the night, yet they kept all the drops for themselves, for the sky, oblivious of the earth's dryness, of the news forecast.

at noon, she went outside, and opened the lid of the water tank. she looked up to the sky one more time, one last time. then she filled the bucket, and made the way through the garden, knowing from past experience that it would start to drizzle just 5 minutes after she finished.

and it did, for whatever reason.

~

photo friday, challenge: wet

day / night

in the garden
the last of the day lilies faded
leaving emptiness & a stick of memory
a token of petals once opened then closed

like dreams tinted
with emotions, with hidden truths
revealing themselves in the night
then curling up before dawn

leaving awakeness & a hunch of the clarity
that hovers beyond this realm
of the human mind
called conscious,

this folly of evolutionatory
vagary

~

reading: Jay Rubin / Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words
rediscovering: Oasis / Born on a Different Cloud

butterfly

my arms folded, i move my body
to the left, to the right
as far as i can reach

you don't breathe into
the dephts of your being
my teacher states gently

then asks a simple,
yet intricate question -
since when is that?

i open my arms
and feel like a butterfly
for a second

i was the tallest in class
i answer, drawing my
shoulders in to explain

the ways we make
our selfs small,
my teacher says,

softly, like the wind
she tries to make us feel,
inside of us.

~

a different place

between water and stone
i step into this thought

that a place
at a different time
is a different place

just like the same place
alone / with someone else
is a different place

~

a task for my week:

to step out of the trains
and chains of thought
every once in a while

to walk slower

to listen to the inner voice
of a place, a person,
a moment

to watch
the world news
empathically

~

question of the day

is it me who is taming the garden -
or is it the garden who is taming me?

~

and the other question:
do the secondary petals of sunflowers,
the ones that develop not on top,
but along the stem,
always look like this?

and if so,
how come i never noticed it?

~

three moments

(1)
out in the garden, trying to take a photo of this day lily named Siloam. hearing two birds cry, right above me. buzzards, i think. and look up. and there they are, floating in the wind, in wide, playful circles. and there i am, camera right in my hand.

(2)
at the desk, looking for a cupboard and a shelf for the cellar. opening pages, and seeing this sofa that just might fit into the living room. finding it also comes in the colour of sand, and is named - tylösand. going there, to the furniture house, to test the sand. and buying a small carpet that will match that sand, and that makes the wooden floor of the living room feel like a jetty.

(3)
in the web, browsing pages. being greated by a zen poem named the Art of Peace. and wondering how often i am just a step away from the sky, from the sand, from the peace.

The Art of Peace begins with you.
Work on yourself and your
Appointed task in the Art of Peace.
Everyone has a spirit that
Can be refined, a body that
Can be trained in some manner,
A suitable path to follow.
You are here for no other purpose than
To realize your inner divinity and
Manifest your innate enlightenment.
Foster peace in your own life and
Then apply the Art to all that you encounter.

- Morehei Ueshiba

growth

monday and this thought
that time, like plants,

grows steadily
in a combination

of expected circles and
spontaneous sprouts

- photo friday, challenge "active"

black soul cat

• acoustic :: soul
• sanity :: sleep
• mambo :: black
• session :: ended
• hound :: dog
• cat :: place
• coward :: cowgirl
• trunk :: drunk
• hold me :: tonight
• psychological :: walk

-unconscious mutterings, week 227

tranquility

a path a stone
music fading voices

floating signs that point out
the dedicated way

i climb across the wood
that forms the reiling

i take 12 steps
and breathe in

tranquility

~

- photo friday, challenge: purity

sometimes

sometimes the blue sky
is waiting in

the right lower corner
just beyond

the block of the
larger view

- photo friday, challenge: "large"

5 things are waiting to be done

5 things are waiting to be done. that was a riddle a friend sent in December. and the state i seem to be in since weeks. or rather: since years. looking at to-do lists from the past months, i see that those 5 things are changing, though. which must mean that i am moving forward, right?

and looking back, it usually aren't the ones that were on top of the list that made the difference in the end. sometimes i feel, somewhere in the back of my mind there is a little neutronic net that knows very well what to do next, and what to leave waiting. only that it doesn't communicate in rational reasons to my consciousness. it communicates in whims and moods of the moment, making me feel like following follies instead of priorities.

2 more thoughts on this, or rather, quotes:

the goal i have: to never be finished - nie fertig werden.
that's what someone quoted to me years ago in Cologne, a wish for her life.

the more you do, the more you can do.
a modern day koan, sent from a san fran friend.

~

and then this, stumbled upon in the web, just at the right time:

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance, to live so that which came to me as seed goes on to the next as blossom, and so that which came to me as blossom goes on as fruit.

- Dawna Markova

alles lyrik

in between politics and finances
a whole feature of poetry
six pages long

starting with an editorial explanation
why this issue sees no other literal reviews
than lines in not even rhymes

adding, just in case of unknownness,
a cautious introduction into the nature of lyric:
poems aren't things, it states

poems are emotional states,
existing only while reading their lines,
neither before, nor after

ending with a soothing note
for all those who rather read novel size reviews:
those will appear in an extra-long-feature, next issue.

~

beyond instinctive rain

• dancer :: rain
• intellectual :: death
• direct :: call
• tolerate :: difference
• post :: modern
• instinctive :: move
• brink :: beyond
• regain :: shape
• repulsed :: impulse
• distressed :: dreaming

- unconscious mutterings, week 225

amber

amber is a colour
she learned on that rainy thursday morning
yet skipped looking for it
sure it would be far.

then found it
just an hour later
some metres from the doorstep
in the rain.

- photo friday, challenge: "amber"

road unplugged

film :: cannes
dragon :: bird
hunger :: fridge
plucked :: unplugged
dissolving :: into petals
executive :: board
mist :: may
minority :: butterflies
map :: road

- unconscious mutterings, week 223

about butterfly

about butterfly borders
contempt easter
first good garden

life living mine
photo pain peek
poem peace struggle

still travels time
unconscious trees
writer world write

writing your zeit

~

text: oil on copper zoom cloud 30.04.
photo: July 2006
dictionary peek: "zeit": german for "time"

cutback / backcut

cutback / backcut

a home can be
a rounded piece of wood
in a cut back tree

i undertand as i sit
with my teacher
in a garden

that dates back to the time
when gardens where cut in sizes
large enough

to provide food
for people, to give
shelter for birds,

to encompass
the circle
of life.

~~

Rückschnitt / Fortschritt

ein zurückgeschnitter Baum
kann Raum genug sein
für ein rundes Heim aus Holz

verstehe ich als ich dort sitze,
mit meiner Lehrerin
in einem Garten

der aus der Zeit stammt,
in der Gärtenstücke groß genug
geschnitten wurden

um Nahrung anzubauen,
um Unterschlupf zu finden

um den Kreis des Lebens
zu umschließen.

~~

photo: 11. April
poem: 12 /30

imprints 2

imprints 2

under the canopy
named oldest
a post of past April
forgotten yet stored
at the bottom of the blog

this house, the garden,
the street,
all covered in snow,
like dreaming
a winter dream

the only signs
someone was awake:
footprints in the snow,
leading to the door,
returning to wilderness.

not shoe prints,
but doe prints.

~

photo: April 2006, 10/30 or 1/3
poem: based on lines in a draft stored 03.04.06.
dictionary peek: canopy - a covering for an eminent person or a sacred object; an ornamental rooflike projection over a niche, altar, or tomb; a protective rooflike covering, often of canvas, mounted on a frame over a walkway or door; a high overarching covering, such as the sky; the uppermost layer in a forest, formed by the crowns of the trees; the transparent enclosure over the cockpit of an aircraft; the part of a parachute that opens up to catch the air.

swim

shallow water deep
like lost time like illusions
learn to breathe then swim

~~

automatic alternative

gaudy petal blazes
agelessly, agelessly
jackals play, does rush

~~

photo: in the middle of the city
poem: 9/30
automatic haikus: here

wordsouls

wordsouls

the book was sorted under c like cardenal
and had a mayan bird on its cover,
painted in coloured crayons

it dived into the metaphysics of language
right on its first page: the latin word carmen (song)
is derived from the sanskrit karma (holy ritual), it stated,

in a sentence so casual, so exciting. karma song,
i thought, my eyes lingering on a bird in the tree
who kept chanting, who speaks in notes, in verse

all his life.

~

photo: 25.3. - the return of the Rotschwanz, a migrating bird who prefers to spend the winter in Italy.
poem: sunday morning, 8/30
peek: wordsouls - "Wortseelen" is the name of the book mentioned: a collection of ethnic poems collected by Ernesto Cardenal, i came across it in the library.

east / west

east / west

for her, the sun rises
beyond the tree hill
23 minutes later

than forecasted on the weather page
which seems to be based on a flat world
of no memory

yesterday gone already
the moment the hands of time
reach midnight,

while the easter rabbit and his chickens
are born in shelves of super markets
that forgot about the real meaning

of things
and times

~~

photo: easter 1 year ago
poem: 7/30

imprinted bluegreen

imprinted bluegreen

in yards, evolution /
happens every hour...

(submitted)

~~

photo: 02.04., back yard
poem: based on a line on sculputers in a mail
dictionary peek: imprint - verb: to produce (a mark or pattern) on a surface by pressure: to impart a strong or vivid impression, to fix firmly, as in the mind; to modify (a gene) by chemical means. noun: a mark or pattern produced by imprinting; a distinguishing influence or effect; a publisher's name, often with the date, address, and edition.

Die Zeit Nr. 14

Die Zeit Nr. 14

on the cover of
the newspaper named
like the time

eine Zeit

the world from far
distance beyond
a particle born in space

eine Welt

and we here, giving
numbers to issues to days
fourteen five four this one

ein Jetzt

when will
our time
come?

~

photo: 02.04.07
poem: written at 11.23 GWM (Greenwich Mean Time, which isn't mean, but median), 5/30
dictionary peek: eine Zeit - a time, eine Welt - a world, ein Jetzt - a now

receding still

receding still

illusions drain light
within the mirror of self
sounds receding still

~

photo: good question. maybe last November, on the way to Lanzarote?
poem: draft since 13.2., based on an automatic haiku, redrafted today
dictionary peek: receding - to move back or away from a limit, point, or mark; to slope backward; to become or seem to become fainter or more distant; to withdraw or retreat.

learn the rules, so you know how to break them

learn the rules, so you know how to break them

birds marking invisible borders with songlines...

(submitted)

~

photo: 11. April 2006, exhibition "Square"
poem: 2nd of April, full moon
dictionary peek: contempt - the feeling or attitude of regarding someone or something as inferior, base, or worthless; the state of being despised or dishonored; disgrace; willful disobedience of the authority of a court of law or legislative body.

NaPoWriMo

It's April. And thus, NaPoWriMo. National Poetry Writing Month.
"Write a poem, every day, this month," the poems page said.
"Hmmm...," i said. "A poem? Would haikus, do, too? And sketches?"
"Write a poem a day, whatever that means to you," the page said, and added: "there really are no rules."
"So then," i answered.

invisible island

• san francisco :: windy
• sadness :: lonely
• spirits :: invisible
• harriet :: marriot
• state :: of consciousness
• offense :: defense
• timeless :: island
• account :: numbers
• refuse :: say no

- unconscious mutterings, week 215

Er-Leben

yoga classes are back again. starting with a calming and slow lesson. with more explanations, as there are some new ones in the group, as some had to leave as they moved to another place. and it was good, to hear the basics again. on the blackboard, two lines that can’t really be translated:

alles Leben ist Bewegung
alles (Er)Leben ist Stille

all life is motion
all experience is silence

and interesting link: life is Leben. and to experience life is to Erleben. plus Leben when written without capital L is the verb: to live. leben.

the energy of life. parallel to yoga, it also rose in the pots where i planted the sunflower seeds last week. now they are growing on the window sill, and shedding their seed-shells. i took a photo, and a close-up which turned out zen-like.

alone

he just came from meeting miro and erro in the Esbaluard. walked out of the door, and saw her. sitting there. in the perfect spot to be with the world around. in the perfect spot to be alone. he played with the idea of walking up to her and saying something original and witty. then he thought twice, climbed on the stones in front of him and sat down to be alone, too.

it was only after she had left that he realized that it had been a while since he felt so connected in such a fragile way.

- photo friday, challenge: "alone"

posi-tea-vity

• lipton :: tea
• reason :: without
• terms :: of acceptance
• positive :: vity
• example :: for
• legacy :: extacy
• solo :: clarinette
• instrument :: tool
• later :: today

- Unconscious Mutterings, week 212

every living thing

sunday and it's rain. i stand in front of the terrace door, looking out to the garden, this garden of february, this garden of trees without leafs and flowers hibernating yet. but the first messengers of life are there already: a first flower opening. a first bee. a first butterfly.

the butterfly, it takes me back to last summer, to this photo i took there. it's the same, i think. the same butterfly. or rather: the same kind of butterfly. butterflies don't fly through winter. they fade when the frost comes, leaving only their memory, and some little butterfly eggs.

the search of the butterfly photo takes me to another page, one with a quote about struggle. i wanted to copy it right away, then forgot. all i remember is that it's from Rilke. and starts with "every little thing." i type the words into google. like magic, a second later, the quote appears, in an extended version, what that moves on from struggle to aloneness, the theme of this month's philosophy cafe.

"People have, with the help of so many conventions, resolved everything the easy way, on the easiest side of easy. But it is clear that we must embrace struggle. Every living thing conforms to it. Everything in nature grows and struggles in its own way, establishing its own identity, insisting on it at all cost, against all resistance. We can be sure of very little, but the need to court struggle is a surety that will not leave us. It is good to be lonely, for being alone is not easy. The fact that something is difficult must be one more reason to do it."
- from Letters to a Young Poet

thank you, butterfly.

so little, so powerful

it's spring days here in the south of germany. it doesn't feel real, and maybe there will be winter coming back, but right now it's lovely. the flowers in the garden open, one after another, and they gave me the idea to start a flower diary.

here is the diary page: in the garden of colour. and here, an extra page for the latest entry, contributed by a little magic crocus, growing out of the green, unplanted, unexpected: so little, so powerful.

more to come. the narcisses are already building bulbs, just like the hyazinths.

- photo friday, challenge: "textured"

cross the invisible line

• threshold :: invisible
• suspicion :: dark
• tender :: touch
• tempted :: cross the line
• repulsive :: retro
• bulldog :: catfish
• garage :: door
• racket :: ball

- unconscious muttering, week 211

all-eins

alone, all one. it's the same in German. allein. all-eins. i never noticed this. then came yesterday, and with it, a philosophical cafe. which also made me look and find these lines about being alone. an invitation. in thought.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to meet your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow;
if you have been opened by life's betrayals,
or have become shrivelled and closed for fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own:
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day,
and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the moon, "YES!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
at the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

- Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation

orange

sky is motion
towards a horizon
towards a new day
to take shape

orange is so much more
than a word
than a fruit
to slice in pieces

- photo friday, challenge: "sky"

under open trees

• the best things :: aren't things
• hold :: close
• rapture :: bite
• cover :: under
• restrictive :: open
• baker :: street
• author :: ship
• pill :: pink
• months :: trees

- unconscious mutterings, week 210

on writing

going through mails i just came across this list of questions sent from the young cousin of a friend for a school exercise, and my answers. thinking of it, this in fact was the first interview i gave about writing.

Q: I also need some advice from you. You are a writer?
A: Yes, I am a writer - I write short stories and poems. So far I have one book published: "Masala Moments" - it's a travel novel, based on my own journeys through India.

Q: What are the skills that I need to be a good writer?
A: The skills a writer need are: curiousity for the world, and the patience to work with a text as long as it takes to make it good. Also it's important to read a lot. And to write a lot. Someone once gave me this advice: "Write a lot. Write everyday. Write as much as possible. The more you write the better your writing gets."

Q: A. says that you are German. Do you write in German or English?"
A: I am German, and I write both in German and in English.

Q: What do you enjoy most about writing?
A: What I enjoy most about writing... to create scenes and stories just by using a pencil and a paper. it's like magic, isn't it? there's the white page, and an hour later, there's a story or a poem that will be read by others, by people I have never met.
.

closer

the world seen
from the point of view
of a crocus
is a larger world,
and at the same time
a closer world.