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Samstag, 3. Februar 2018


Being scared ist caused mostly by thinking. That’s what I’ve learned. Thinking of what could go wrong, what has gone wrong before and thinking of old scars. Scars in their nature remind us of moments we have fallen or failed. Moments we have been hurt. And weirdly enough - or for evolutionary reasons - those moments stick with us, just like the scars. Visible and hidden. And even worse those scars are restraining us, holding us back. They remind us to be careful or to not even try, because after all it has gone wrong before and why should this time be any different? The memory of the pain is just too present.The fact is: we think nothing we want ever turns out quite the way we want it. Love or ambition, children or projects, and we go from disappointment to disappointment, from hope to denial, from expectation to surrender. As we grow older, we start to think, that what is wrong is us and our longing. So we believe or come to believe, that hope is our misconception, aspiration our mistake and expectation our error.If we shift our perspective a little, we can see that scars are so much more than just a reminder of pain and defeat. They are testimonies of survival, marks of a continuation. The actual evidence that something bad and hurtful can happen to you without destroying you. You may have fallen,you may have been hurt, injured and knocked to your knees; but you healed. With time and care. And isn’t that what life is about? Not avoiding yourself and the obstacles you have to face, but taking them head first, step by step and learning from them instead of hiding from them. 

If I leave this life, i wanna leave it scarred as fuck, not scared as hell.

Most things, once you have conquered them, become yours for ever. They become part of who you are and they can’t destroy you anymore.
Wear your scars like crowns and be proud that you survived. Let your insecurities become jewels that make you shine. They are part of who you are and always keep in mind what Yoda said: 


photography by aurnaud ele and me

Samstag, 22. April 2017

growing into a new fragility

Why do we escape to daydreams and thought up stories?
Why do we keep playing out different scenarios in our heads to a degree where it is actually exhausting? 
Why do we all like to avoid reality so much?
A big part of growing up is realizing that there is a gap between how the real world actually is and how the world should be. Most people react with helpless confusion or philosophical melancholy once they become fully aware of that matter. Actually a lot of people aren’t fully aware of that matter, they just get an idea that there is something deeply wrong with this world and since everybody around them seems to be fine, there must be something deeply wrong with them. So they escape. Some escape into work, some to foreign countries and others simply escape into daydreams and stories. Stories and dreams are maybe the only remaining echo of our childhood-wishes. The wish to be part of a better world belongs to our earliest phantasies. Phantasies that were about opening secret doorways to Narnia, finding mystical objects in attics and being picked up in the middle of the night by friendly pirates on flying ships. 
All these scenarios we keep running over in our heads and all the dreams we keep stored safely in our minds tend to feel like great science fiction from time to time. They are impressive and detailed and insightful and they keep us going. They might even keep some of us alive. Unfortunately the more you grow up the more you realize they are not as accurate as you thought they were, but science Fiction never is. We didn’t have a Space Odyssey, we are still waiting for real hoverboards and Los Angeles will never look like the dark, rainy, neo noir version of Blade Runner. 

In the end all the scenarios and dreams are nothing more like anxieties and a ways to deal with them. We are afraid we won’t fit in, we are afraid we’ll end up alone and most of all we are afraid of growing up. So we escape to our childhood worlds once in a while to feel safe and regain a sense of wonder. I think we share those anxieties and cooping mechanisms with everyone. So we’ll never be alone actually, it’s just that no one likes to admit their flaws and anxieties. No one likes to show weakness. No one likes to be vulnerable and fragile. If we could just be honest with the world and ourselves. If we could just let go of all the masks and veils of adulthood, we would grow into a new kind of fragility together. We would be united in our anxieties and wouldn’t that grant the kind of stability we all need to close the gap between how the world is and how it should be? To feel united in something - a feeling - to gain the strength to truly steer this world in a better direction. To change this world to the world we imagined as children. 
Full of beauty and magic.

photography by dep schwedhelm and me.

Sonntag, 19. Februar 2017

Camomile tea (f)or disciplined Collapsers

I often come to think that childhood is our last hideaway from reality and in that, one of 
our last sources of simple wisdom and infinite magic. When retrieving back to that place you sometimes find the easiest, most simple and most obvious answers. Answers and solutions you weren’t thinking of before. You weren’t able to see, because you were too covered up and surrounded by your daily routine and everyday responsibilities. 
Remember, when you were little and sick in bed how your mom made you camomile tea, read stories to you and tucked you in. Even though you were sick, there was never a sense of doom, a sense of forsakenness and endless suffering. You always knew and felt that there was an end to all this. That the camomile tea would heal your fever, medicate your sickness. 
I wish, there was camomile tea and stories for a broken heart. Something that could take the edge of the pain, something that could make it easier, speed up the healing process before time evidently heals this broken, shattered to a million little pieces heart of mine.     
I had always assumed that when this relationship ended, it would end with a certain gracefulness, a sad and thoughtful charm, a tender farewell. Unfortunately this is never the case, is it? In fact we feel too much. We don’t just feel our own pain anymore, but we start to be preceptive for the pain of the world and every living thing in it. We start to see all the cracks and bruises. Every little detail that seems to be wrong with this universe. The world acquires a tendency to crumble as easily as a soda cracker and you find yourself horribly susceptible to small animals, different shades of light, songs played late at night over lonely radios. It becomes particularly dangerous to go near movies in which children call for wise monsters and crippled girls are healed by the unselfish love of impoverished bellhops. Everybody and everything seems to breath melancholy. We are in fact so receptive for pain and suffering that we eventually start to feel overwhelmed. This state of mind, this state of feeling everything, feeling too much, finally, makes us experience a sensation of unreality as acute as never having felt at all. It is becoming painful to see. It is becoming painful to breath. It is becoming painful to think. Suddenly there seem to be whole areas inside us we have to be careful of. Our mind, like a paw, winces away from certain sharp recollections. 
Sometimes I think, the only thing we haven’t lost is the ability to suffer. We’re fine and in ease at suffering. But it’s such a silent suffering. We never disturb the neighbors, our friends or parents with it. We collapse, we collapse even daily but we collapse in the most disciplined ways. That’s us. That’s certainly us. The disciplined collapsers. And because we suffer, we think we loved, for the suffering is the proof, the testimony of a heart that was able to feel such love. The thing is, the problem maybe, that when we have suffered long enough we step by step, moment by moment adjust to the idea that we have always suffered, and that it was never any different, and a sort of mocking health is eventually achieved. So we keep walking, we keep working and we keep living, thinking that everything will be fine in the end. All we have to do is to stand up straight long enough. I think, that after all nothing can save us but a good fall. It’s the act of staying up there on the wire, balancing ourselves with that trivial parasol and being so pleased with terrifying an audience, that’s finishing us eventually. 

Don’t you agree? A great fall, that’s what we need.

photography by leon antonio james and me.

Freitag, 27. Mai 2016

the magic we see(k)

It's a known fact of physics, that energy never disappears. It does change it's form, varies it's function, alters and transits, but energy never vanishes into thin air or dissolves into nothing. The concept of Karma reflects this physical law very specifically. Every emotion, every deed, every thought you send out to the world and the universe itself, will find it's way back to you. 
Somehow, someday.
Karma means, that you get, what you give. The basic principle of cause and effect, action and reaction.
At first this idea may sound more logical than magical, but if you really think about it, Karma is the origin of any kind of magic. If you believe in magic, you create magic yourself, if you don't, seeking it will be pointless and an endless one way-road. You need to believe in magic before you can find it, see it, experience it. Then and only then you will not just have created magic, you will be able to see it in everything and everyone, because magic is here. It surrounds us like oxygen, it inhabits every cell and fiber of every being. Magic can be found in every tiny grain of this universe. It is in all the stories we tell to pass the time and in every single moment we experience. It helps us, guides our every movement and even fixes the tiny often unnoticed fractures this world inflicts on our hearts. 

photography by hiroko and me.

Freitag, 1. Januar 2016

be good

The night was full of haze and noises. 
Bright lights mixed with sparkling dots and quick fainting colors. Blue, red and yellow assorted in a grey mist. 
We walked home, accompanied by an aura of peculiar excitement, which was inhabited by a sense of nostalgia and this special sadness only time can cure.
It was time we found; 
Not on the street or in the promises of a new year.
 We found time for childhood-memories and almost forgotten hope, as we watched E.T. .

There is something timeless about it's aesthetics. 
Something beautiful that pours right into your heart, and makes you realize, how many thoughts and memories you left behind. Thoughts and memories not destroyed by time, but slightly covered by it's invisible dust.
You tend to forget those things while growing up, while watching too many films, reading too many random stories and being distracted by life itself.

How beautiful is the thought of being this connected to a friend, that you feel all their love, pain and even hunger, thirst and desire for knowledge. 
That there is literally a physical and psychic connection between the two of you.
These kind of connections do exist, binding us together like most fragile, invisible heartstrings.
They might not be as strong as illustrated in the film, but they are present and you can feel them every time you stand still; still in one moment and lean in very carefully.