It’s good to have faith, but you shouldn’t be stupid

“There once was a woman who had a strong faith in God. She was certain that what ever happened in life, God would save her.

One day she was on a ship that capsized in the storm. All the other passengers on the ship drowned, but the woman managed to hold on to a piece of wood, floating in the water, certain that God would save her.

After a while of struggle, a ship passed by. Someone spotted the woman and shouted “Hey, do you need help? We will throw in a life saver and take you on to the boat.” The woman cheerfully waved back. “No thank you, my God will save me!” The people on the ship where startled. Did she really say what they just heard her say? The shipped passed her by.

Soon there is another ship coming by. The same thing happens again, the woman is offered help, and she says no thank you. It starts to get hard to hold on to the piece of wood, the woman feels tired and cold. She starts to think that her God has deserted her. No more ships pass by and soon she drowns.”

My friend Mickey looks at me. “It’s good to have faith, but you shouldn’t be stupid.”
I think he just gave some good general advice for life.

Music of the day: Macy Gray

A blue sky

A beautiful blue sky woke me up this late morning. And as I was having my breakfast by the living room table, reading the newspaper, I looked out and it hit me. Why am I sitting inside, watching that beautiful sky outside the window, when I could sit outside on the balcony?

I took my cup of illy and a blanket and enjoyed my coffee outside in the fresh January air. Sitting there, feeling amazingly happy, truely content, with Howie Day in the background, I sent a piece of the energy to my bro - who once again was heading to work on a sunday morning.

It doesn't take much to raise one's glance towards the sky
and enjoy the feeling of pure freedom that comes with it.


Not hard to see what
I mean, right?

Make the call

I ran into an old acquaintance at the airport today. We talked for a while, both waiting for our flights, and the subject was calling someone we hadn't talked to for a while. I encouraged the other one to call a person he hadn't heard anything from since the person's divorce and move across a sea. "You should call him", I said. "He is probably wondering, why you haven't called for a while, even with the divorce and the move going on". "I've been waiting for him to call me", the answer was. "I've been thinking he doesn't want to be disturbed, with all the things going on."

I was the one "giving the other one advice" - knowing I've been postponing two calls myself for days, even weeks. It's not that I don't want to talk to these people - I really do. It's a question of waiting for some certain mood, certain feeling hitting you, so that you feel "in the right vibe" to call the other one. And days pass before turning into weeks.

I remember waiting for that special mood before calling someone I love. I waited for days, trying to get rid of that anxious feeling, get rid of that stress that I thought would spoil the whole phone call. I wanted to be at my best, I wanted to sound relaxed and happy. But that never happend. So I finally thought - what the hell - he will just have to cope with my anxiousness and stress. So I made the call. And the minute I heard that person's voice in the other end a total feeling of relaxation came over me. Why didn't I think of that before?

The message of today is:
Make that call.

Let people know that you're thinking of them. Let people you care about know what you think. Tell people when they affect you. Tell people when you are touched by something they do or say. Tell people when you love them. Tell people when you need their love. Tell people you care about when they hurt you and ask them if you hurt them. Otherwise time will pass and waters will run.

Because after all. Tomorrow might never come. For one or the other.

Offer people help when you are able to give. Ask for forgiveness when needed and be ready to offer other people yours as well.

"If we haven’t forgiven, we keep creating an identity around our pain, and that is what is reborn. That is what suffers."
(Preparing for Death. The Final Days of Death Row Inmate Jaturun "Jay" Siripongs)

Today I talked to my boss. He said "You know I am more than happy about your work. I try to let you know as often as possible." I knew that already, he tells me all the time. Of course it makes me happy, but on the other hand it is for me key - to do my best what ever I do. I am happy, though, that my contribution is appreciated. Before ending the conversation, he asked me if I had something on my mind. Endeed I did. I told him "You know you are the best boss one can get? I am truely pleased with your leadership." My boss smiled and thanked me, he was happy I thought so. I was happy I told him - even though he knew already.

So there we had it: two people telling each other - what both already knew - but still being able to come each other yet a bit closer.


I just love penguins.

No need for additional shelter

I have another story for you.

The year is 1999 and the month is October. I am walking along a rainy street in Florence, Italy. The rain keeps pouring down and there is still some hundred meters to go before reaching home.

I stop at the red light and suddenly I see a shadow above my head. I look up. It's an umbrella. And the hand that holds it over my head belongs to a tiny nun. I look at her - both in surprise and gratefulnes.

"Thank you", I say, "But you should keep it over yourself". The nun looks at me and smiles.
"I already have my shelter" she says, and looks up towards the grey sky.

She holds the umbrella over me until we reach the crossing where we split our ways. Me walking the last 50 meters to my front door, the nun walking to her monastery.


You are totally right. This picture has
nothing to do with the story. I just like
penguins and this is my blog.

On a train

Over seven years ago I sat on a night train going between Munich and Milan. As soon as I sat down a tall, dark Italian came into the same cabin. We talked for a while. He was from Sicily. He seemed quite strange, right from the start. Every time someone got into the cabin to check our passports (at the border of Austria) or tickets, the guy disappeared. I hang on to my bag with both hands.

Trying to get some sleep while hanging on to a bag is not easy. You kind of are awake, kind of falling asleep every second. I had just fallen asleep again, when a couple marches in to the cabin. We are just arriving to the Austrian border. It's an older man and a younger woman. They speak in English to each other, and still you can hear it isn't either's mother tongue.

They had met on the train. And she carried a gun in her purse.

That's what they said, at least, until letting us two fellow passengers in on a secret: It was a lie they'd made up. They had come up with a game to scare other passengers. They thought it was really funny. I took an even steadier grip of my bag and tried to sleep.

We are stopping in Bolzano. I wake up and hear a terrible yelling and screaming. It sounds like 1 000 chicken boarding the train. Suddenly the door to the cabin is opened from the outside. The Italian and the other, older man stand up in a split second. They both try to close the door. Tens of dark skinned hands push their way between the door and the cabin wall, pushing their way in. "We need to close this door, this is a private cabin", my fellow passengers inform the herd of dark women trying to get in. "We can't let them inside", the Italian says, turned to me, "Puzzano - they smell, and they will take up the whole cabin, there will be no room for us!". "They are hookers", he explains further, while trying to close the door with all his force. No use - suddenly the grip gets pulled of the cabin door, and soon inside our cosy cabin of four, ten dark, skinny women with heals high as mountains and skirts of the size of a belt are stretching out. I can't get no more sleep, as my face is pushed up against the window, where it stays until the train stops in Verona.

The ten chocolate skinned fellow passengers of the cabin get out. Finally I can get some sleep, I think. I close my eyes just to open them again a moment later. I hear someone call my name and a "What are you doing here??". Two of my friends, who I met that same summer at the Garda Lake, are looking inside the cabin with eyes big as satellites. "What are YOU doing here?" is my question. And it soon comes out, they are on their way to Florence, but apparently got on to the wrong train. I can happily inform them, that the train to Florence leaves from another track. It's the wrong track. Binario sbagliato.

From Verona to Milan I sleep like a baby.

Cats and friends

My cat has a hobby. She changes her status on her Facebook account. At the moment she is bored.

She once in a while receives messages from people who would like to be friends with a cat. Sorry! She is careful. She only accepts a virtual friend if it is someone she knows. That's how much she trusts people. If it's an animal, it's not that serious. Any animal can become her friend. Animals she trusts.

Often she thinks, how strange people are. They lay out their lives on the web. They open their Facebook site and read about what their friends are doing - and what the friends of their friends are doing. They create networks and find classmates and cousins they never knew still existed. They poke eachother and send virtual hugs. They get new friends by the programme itself, suggesting people they might know. They feel they are really connected. Guess that is a good thing, she thinks.

Lovers Dream

As I walked through an half-empty airport on Thursday night, I heard a beautiful voice singing beautiful tunes. They filled the emptiness of those halls, where people had long ago forgotten about everything else, everybody else, just waiting to find their way home.

I had to ask at the counter, who is the artist they are playing? It was Anna Ternheim, a Swedish singer, who put a spell on me in that moment.

I encourage you to look up Anna, and take a listen to Lovers Dream. It is a beautiful, beautiful duet with Fyfe Dangerfield, and the lyrics are as sad as the tunes that accompany them. Even if a Saturday morning, I'm letting those tunes fill my inside, knowing - knowing so well - this is a Sunday morning song.

Here's a piece of the lyrics:

Put me to rest
Lay your head on my chest
Hold my hand
When you leave
Don't wake me up
Just to see how you say goodbye

Maybe I could be yours
Maybe you could be mine
God, I waited so long
Maybe my time has come
To walk by your side

I am utterly impressed. And touched.

I danced tonight

I danced tonight
I let go of everything
that ever strained my being
I let go
I danced tonight

I took a breath tonight
I took a deep breath
and let go of everything
that ever strained my being
I let go
I took a breath tonight

I let life in tonight
I opened up
and let life in
And for a moment
I felt nothing strained my being
I was free
from everything
that ever stood between me
and liberty
I let life in tonight

It took one movement
It took one breath
Within me I found
what you searched for
on the outside
Within me
I found liberty

Today was the day
Tomorrow will be
another one.

Conversations with the Universe

Today I was very happy about travelling. Why? Because first, on the flight, and then, on a train, I had time to read Like the flowing river. I didn't want it to end just yet, so I put the book away at some point. I will finish it when I am heading back home in a couple of days.

I must say, a lot of thoughts emerged from reading that book. As always, when reading books by Coelho, I am forced to turn away from the people around me every now and then, to dry my tears with the back of my hand. The texts are very powerful, and they do affect me.

It is not too many weeks ago when my friend looked at me with wide open eyes saying: Your life is like straight from a Paulo Coelho book! She was right. I had noticed the same thing. So many miracles, big and small, surrounded me. And the thing that amazed me the most was that I actually paid attention to them, I noticed them. I noticed the universe doing its best to show me what it's all about, to give me what I needed the most.

The thing is, miracles do happen around us all the time. I think they happen every day. We just need to be perceptive to notice them. We need to tune in. A lot of Coelho's text are about just that perceptiveness.

The hard thing is to learn how to stay sensitive to the universe, how to stay perceptive. I do believe, that a big part of staying connected to the universe is about staying connected to one's inner self, to one's soul. That sounds a lot easier, but I do find it quite hard. Surrounded by our daily life and everything it holds, good and bad, work and play, it's easy to forget about one's true self. It's easy to not pay attention to the voice of one's soul, when the sounds around us are so loud.

Happy poem of the day

I feel extremely down, so I thought a happy poem would do the trick. Let's give it a try at least.

Closing my eyes
I feel my feet push away from the ground
Must be my happy boots, I think
while listening to the sound
of silence around me
While the earth becomes smaller and smaller
I find myself strangely free
From anything that kept --
me from being me.

Upwards and away.
Surrounded by colour.
Must be my happy boots, I say.
Where they lead me, I will follow.

I will not be shackled
My heart will break free
My happy boots proved
That I am still Me.

That wasn't too happy. Nor did it work. I should be packing for my upcoming trip. And one thing, that brings colour into this day, is a book I bought. Like the flowing river by Paulo Coelho - it seems to be exactly what I need in this moment. I cannot wait to start it, to enjoy it and to finish it.

Coelho's books are taking a lot of space in my book shelf. I do admire his poetic writing.

I took a sneak peek at some of the pages, as I was deciding on whether to buy the book or not. In Statutes for the New Millennium I read something I liked.

[...]
11 Every human being should keep alive within them the sacred´flame of madness, but should behave as a normal person.
12 Only the following items should be considered to be grave faults: not respecting another's rights; allowing oneself to be paralysed by fear; feeling guilty; believing that one does not deserve the good or ill that happens in one's life; being a coward. [...]

I also read some of the travelling advice (Travelling differently) with pleasure, where advice #4 says: Try to travel alone, or if you are married, with your spouse. - Only in this way can you truely leave your own country behind, says Coelho.

This is a book I will share, as many others.

So, getting to the end of this entry, do I feel brighter? Well, at least I got my mind on a different track for a while.

More movies

There are two films in particular I'd like to catch up with.

1) Cassandra's dream. Directed by Woody Allen - who I adore. This film doesn't seem to be the typical Woody Allen movie, but I sure am gonna give it a try.

2) My Blueberry Nights. With Norah Jones, who also is featured on the soundtrack, and Jude Law. Here's a scene from that movie, might be a bit of a spoiler, since it's the end. I've warned you. In the background, playing Norah Jones' The story.

Poem of the day

It has been a beautiful day. I got some time out in the January sun, and even though it was a cold day, it felt extraordinary nice to walk through the center an early (for me, that is) morning. My cheerful mood might have had something to do with me waring a lovely pair of new boots. The kind of boots that make people happy. At least me.
Let' s see if I can find a link to an example..

Here it is, my beautiful boot (Spirit store). I guess you can imagine where my joy came from :)

But where is the poem, you say. I would like to write a poem about my new boots. But that must happen another day. Now I'm posting something I wrote about six weeks ago. And it is a poem that has nothing to do with the mood of today, on the contrary. But I think it's beautiful, in its own harsh way. No filters added. Isn't it excellent, how pain will cause creativity? So that's why I'll post it anyway. If you don't want to spoil the mood, but enjoy the boot, don't read the poem, stick to the boot.

The ripping feeling that I have in my chest
Is not tearing you into pieces
The aching feeling that fills my bones
is not throbbing in yours
The only thing we seem to share
is the brutal sadness
that fills the cells.
One by one.

Read my words.
Do you taste the salt?

Too much, you think? I think it's quite visual. It speaks to different senses. That's why I like it.

I have a movie for you. WOW! Luc Besson has always done a good job, but now he did even better. Have you ever seen an angel beat up people? This is your chance. Angel-A. It gives a great view of Paris. The visuality of the film is beautifully done. If nothing else, it's worth seeing because of a pair of long Danish legs of Rie Rasmussen (178 cm).

The movie makes me think of a leg-man, Frank Drebin. Remember Frank?

"Her hair was the colour of gold in old paintings.
She had a full set of curves and the kind of legs you'd like to suck on for a day.
She gave me a look l could feel in my hip pocket.
Yep, this was starting to get interesting."
(The Naked Gun)

There's a poet!

What a Vedder [waddawedda]

I must say, I am once again thankful for getting sources of inspiration from people I love. Yet again I am truely happy about this one.

Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam). Oh, Eddie, what you do to me with your lyrics and your voice. Listening to the Into the Wild record feels a bit like

Watching a train leave
with the love of your life inside
Seeing it move
further down the track
Becoming smaller and smaller
Thinking
Maybe it is not the train - but yourself
who is getting smaller and smaller
While the pain in your chest
Grows bigger and bigger
And the only thing left
soon will be
Your big heart
That still is warm
So warm
And still you're standing
Still you're watching
Knowing
You will wake up
Stronger.

Back to Eddie. I have a clear favourite, particularly because of the lyrics. Guaranteed. Listen to that. The lyrics are beautiful as a whole, but there is one magical piece that is pure beauty of words:

Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Owning me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you

Other truely excellent tracks are Hard Sun, Rise, Long Nights, End of the Road. Well, actually they are all excellent.
I am truely happy about Eddie. Thank You.