So this is Christmas Eve ...

... in the Austrian Alps.



I've been dreading this day, just like I've been dreading this vacation, in spite of looking forward to it so much. I cannot even say what exactly it was that I dreaded so — it had to do with my mom and my recent thoughts and emotions, my recent struggle with the way she deals with our past, things concerning my childhood. A vague unease, nothing I could name or describe, and yet it was there, a certain fear, a tension that grew bigger and bigger right before we left for this holiday. Another issue that had me worried was her husband's drinking — his denial of his alcoholism as much as her habit to bring it up, their quarreling and argueing about it in my presence. And what I feared even more is his tendency to verbally attack her and pick on her in front of others. I've been going through all that so often and I'm just tired of it ... unnerved and disgusted.

Anyway, maybe I worried for no reason — things are going smoothly so far and these past four days have been pretty much okay. He DID drink too much yesterday night, having a hard time trying to articulate himself, and she DID start to become cynical and somewhat smug towards him, but I decided to just stay out of it as it's none of my business after all. I was hoping they wouldn't force me to take sides or to comment on anything that was being said, and gratefully, they didn't.

The days out are much easier than the nights at home — we're outside all day, walking and hiking, exploring the mountains and hillsides around here. Both of them are so much more approachable then and we actually had quite a few good conversations, even concerning the past, childhood issues, some of the stuff that has been troubling me lately, trying to come to terms with my mother's part in it.

We went for a long walk today, having lunch in a nearby village, and somehow the subject of my former stepfather's (not her present husband's) drinking and violence came up — it wasn't even me bringing it up, it somehow came about “naturally” in the course of a conversation — and I decided to just go for it and mention some of my recent thoughts. I was careful not to sound like I was accusing her of anything, I didn't want to sound reproachful in any way or cause some drama there during the meal, but at the same time I couldn't let that chance pass me by, the chance to finally express some of my feelings concerning this subject — and surprisingly enough, she was rather open for what I said. We talked about a few things, the way I experienced them as a child and why she wasn't aware of it at the time, and it felt good to bring it out into the open. It wasn't like we went into any of the details of what happened back then, but even this rather general exchange brought about some relief, and not only on my side, I think. On our way back home through the snow the atmosphere was more relaxed, it just felt different, everybody a bit more at ease with each other maybe.

We spend the afternoon lazing around and then it was time to drive over to the restaurant where we had planned on having dinner this Christmas Eve. What can I say — it was nice and harmonious. The food was excellent and so was the atmosphere. Not exactly heart-warming but relaxed anyway, which was way more than what I had expected. I didn't waste a single thought on my recent fears and misgivings, we were just chatting amicably and when it was time to leave we all felt we had spent a lovely night out together. Not too festive but rather cheerful, which was fine with me, for sure.

Back at the place where we're staying we gave our gifts to each other, which was nice as well, another surprise after a few years of this turning into a bit of a farce and disappointment. Our gifts were small but well considered, not just a shallow exchange of material items. For once, after years and years of feeling the opposite, I DID manage to feel comfortable in my mother's company at this time of year and I'm grateful for that.

The night turned out good, really — quiet, amicable, simple but harmonious — more than I had ever dared to hope for.

One day at a time, yes — I'm really trying to approach things and situations that way now, it's all that makes sense after all. So I do not plan or speculate or worry about anything besides the next moment, the next 24 hours, being grateful for what I find, joyfully present, happy and content at this very moment, and it's all that counts.

This may sound like nothing much to anybody outside, but to me it means a great deal. So thank you for that — whoever, wherever — but thank you, so much.

Desiderata

by Max Ehrmann
written around 1920

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. 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 is Latin and means 'things that are yearned for', which in the context of the poem more closely means 'essential things'.

To be free ...

I've taken the quote down below from Paulo Coelho's 'Warrior of Light' today – one of my all-time favourite books – because it is so true for me these days!

The Warrior Is Free

"The warrior hears someone say: 'I need to understand everything before I can make a decision. I want to have the freedom to change my mind.'
The warrior regards these words suspiciously. He too can enjoy that freedom, but this does not prevent him from taking on a commitment, even if he does not know quite why he does so.
A warrior of light makes decisions. His soul is as free as the clouds in the sky, but he is committed to his dream. On his freely chosen path, he often has to get up earlier than he would like, speak to people from whom he learns nothing, make certain sacrifices.
His friends say: 'You're not free.'
The warrior is free. But he knows that an open oven bakes no bread."

That "someone" talking to the warrior may just be my own inner voice ... sometimes I should clearly NOT listen to it but follow my heart instead –it always speaks the truth. Yes, a lot of times I end up speaking to people from whom I learn nothing ... but there is always others, and for that I'm forever grateful. Sometimes making a commitment is the only way there. Sometimes I have to focus on what I need most urgently, what is the most important for me at that very moment ... I may have to disregard countless alternatives and choices on offer to be able to do what is best for me ... making a decision and a commitment and not doubt or question it. If it comes from my heart and not from fear, from a place bigger than myself maybe, it will always guide me towards the right action.
There are times when I have to shut out my own intellect and understanding, when thinking only leads to confusion and staying focused and quiet enough to follow that call that leads me out of myself – away from my "lesser" self, towards some kind of "big mind" – are the only ways I'll ever manage to "get my bread baked" ... it takes focus, decision, commitment ... I see that now. What it takes most of all is the right spirit, the courage to go ahead, which might just be the most difficult for me to achieve ... ah, I'm a stumbling warrior at times ... I fear, I falter, I fall ... doing my best to get up again and simply walk on ... determined, yet free!

Confusion

So here I sit and want to write ... and can't because I feel there is just too much to be said. Where to begin ... I'm lost. My mind is so full of things, full of emotions, thoughts, doubts, questions lately ... they swirl around my head like leaves caught in a vortex on the river. I watch them going in circles, round and round ... leading nowhere. All this thinking that is not actually thinking but some helpless pondering is making me dizzy and somewhat uptight. I know something is emerging, something is coming up ... and on some level I know what it is all about ... yet I can't touch it.

Yesterday morning when I woke I felt I needed to talk or I would simply burst, too full of feeling to keep it bottled up much longer. But having been so reluctant to talk for such a long time now, trying to digest all those new thoughts first, the idea of speaking with somebody seemed strange and unfamiliar. I thought of who I might talk to. The problem for me is that a lot of the people close to me are just too close. At least, right now. On the other hand, the thoughts and feelings I need to share are not exactly the kind I'd share with a mere aquaintance, a person I do not trust to understand in some way. I kept thinking. There were people I trusted enough to talk to, people close enough to me but not so close that I'd feel awkward giving away details of people related to me, something I knew I needed to do, once I'd start talking. My mind kept spinning, torn between the need to open up to somebody and the fear of doing so. The desire to just let go of all the pressure and tension and spill it all out grew overpowering and I finally e-mailed a friend, asking if I might talk to him, knowing him to be very much accustomed with the subject I had on my mind. I knew though that he was facing a not so easy time for himself right now and felt hesitant to just "raid on him" with my story. So I asked if he felt able to talk to me, pretty much upfront, and sent the mail on it's way, (only half-) relieved to have made that first move.

I didn't expect him to get back to me instantly and it came as quite a surprise when he did, saying that he was indeed fine with it and I should just give him a call over the day. That caught me flat-footed – however ridiculous it must sound. It was just too much, so all of a sudden. I know it is probably completely stupid ... first wanting to talk and asking for somebody to lend an ear ... then being so unprepared when somebody agrees to do. It just happened so fast, you know? There I was, having build up this confusion inside my mind for weeks on end, making a decision to maybe get rid of some of it by sharing ... but without much of a clue as to what exactly it is I need to share, or say, or spill out ... I really don't, not in any detailed way. The confusion is just too big. So when this friend said he would speak with me, it sent my mind spinning even worse, like a stirred up hornet's nest, thoughts going into all directions at once, leaving me with a feeling as if about to faint ... dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. Upon reading his words I went hot, then cold, feeling sick to the stomach. I imagined giving him a call and starting to talk ... and found I couldn't. I felt helpless, powerless, numb, speechless ... too much emotion, too much confusion. I simply didn't know where to start. I could feel the old fear creeping up ... I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Now it was overly present again. Faceless, fathomless, yet all too present, looming in the shadows of my mind. Tears came up to my eyes. I so wanted to talk. But did I really? I needed to, that much I knew ... but I couldn't. I couldn't. All I could feel in that moment, picturing picking up the receiver and dialing his number, was a desire to turn and run. Finding some dark hole to hide in and become invisible. I almost regretted having asked for help, thinking that maybe I would have preferred for him to just refuse to talk? I felt sorry and silly, being so undecided ... like somebody who had booked a parachute jump in a moment of braveness and upon hearing the aircraft engines start suddenly remembers he suffers from vertigo, hoping for the plane to never take off.

I struggled with myself, but in the end surrendered to the inability to talk. I got back to my friend, trying to explain, apologizing, saying I obviously wasn't yet ready for it, asking for him to please be there one of these days, if it wasn't asked too much.

Now what? Here I sit. Still confused, still numbed by the amount of questions and emotions inside my head. Still not able to single out one clear thought in that tangled mess of emotion. But a first move has been made, I know for myself there is no turning back now, one by one I will have to move forward, however tiny those steps may be. I must sort my thoughts, put them into some kind of order so I'm able to express them ... and hopefully it will all add up once I start talking, becoming clearer and more obvious. I can't fool myself, I know where this must lead. But it's not easy.

Loneliness ... arbitrary reality

Last Friday has been a strange day — and: a beautiful day. A confusing day, on all accounts. It started good, then turned bad, finally turning out good after all.

"What happened?", you may ask (you may very well not ask but I'll tell you anyway).

I wasn't working, so I was pretty relaxed, however tired from the days before. It was sunny — a lovely, mellow, colorful autumn day, blue skies and golden leaves, the world looked beautiful and I felt blessed, simply being. I spent the day lazing about, enjoying the beauty of it as much as the absence of chores to take care of after a week full of work that had me crazy busy for days and days.

As evening fell, the blue sky turned lavender, then pink, then finally crimson and red. It was breathtakingly beautiful to watch the sun set. It touched me so deeply that it brought tears to my eyes, tears of bliss and gratitude. Then, suddenly ... BOOM!!! ... out of the blue (or red in this particular case) ... loneliness knocked at my door.

I know that being tired and exhausted is sometimes the point where weakness creeps in — the doubt, sadness or loneliness, whatever — depending on my mood. Normally I am warned and watch it. This time I didn't see it coming though, being not prepared for the sudden ache at all. I'm lucky these days, in so far that I'm almost always aware of it when it happens, and manage to readjust my thinking before it manifests as reality, but being so tired ... this time I really struggled.

So there I was, watching that gloriously beautiful sunset, reluctantly saying hello to loneliness as it slipped through my door. Starting to feel all sorry for myself, turning melancholic and sentimental, I caught myself thinking how sad it was that there was nobody to share this moment of bliss. All of a sudden it was all I could concentrate on. Loneliness. It seemed to flutter around me as if somebody had written those letters into the sky, like butterflies they surrounded me ... L-O-N-E-L-I-N-E-S-S ... in large capital letters, scarlet against the already flaming sky.

Now, go figure! Just a second ago I had been perfectly enjoying that moment — all happy gratefulness, all grateful happiness — and suddenly the same situation managed to bring me down like that. I mean, how silly is that?

Having just watched the documentary "What the Bleep do we know" for the umpteenth time, I was very much aware of how we possibly create our individual realities and knew what I was doing and that I might very well change the situation for myself if I really wanted to. But quite honestly, for a moment it felt good, letting myself drift into sorrow and self-pity. It was just less demanding, less effort, you know?

I could suddenly feel the fatigue in my bones and body and being so immensely tired, surrendered to it. I could feel the loneliness like some kind of physical pain as it started to manifest inside me. It's always the same. It starts in my head, then sinks into my chest and heart, slowly expanding into my tummy where it kind of settles. I feel as if I become heavier and somewhat numb. It's always the same shit and there is just no use in feeling that way. I know that, I do! But it seemed so much easier, letting it settle, sinking into the self-pity and sorrow.

I made a half-hearted attempt to divert my thoughts and jump off that train to nowhere. I tried to phone a few friends — in vain. Nobody answered. I considered going for a walk in the twilight but was too afraid that might just make things worse. So I turned on the computer. I tried to write it all down, hoping to just write it off, that damned loneliness, somehow getting rid of it by describing it like I do now. But there were no words. My mind was blank, empty, tired, sad, melancholic, lonely. Forlorn and forsaken, haha! I logged into myspace, thinking I might just have a little chat there. None of my friends were online. Where was everybody???? Darn it. I changed my status update to "lonely" and logged off, pretty much bathing in self-pity by then.

I got myself some food ... I ate ... alone ... feeling lonely, of course ... poor, pitiful, pathetic little Lilli ... all those lonely meals ... day after day, week after week, month after month. I started to conjure up pictures of how they would turn into years, decades ... forever, maybe?

Then I heard the familiar "pling" of my inbox telling me I had e-mail. I went to look and found a notification from myspace, telling me some friends had sent comments and messages. I logged back in to check.

It's funny – I never think that anybody actually reads those status updates, but quite obviously people do. So I found several concerned and lovely messages, different friends checking in to ask if I were okay, trying to cheer me up, asking if they could be of any help, whether I wanted to talk, if they should phone, telling me they were there if I felt I needed company, however virtual maybe.

Wow, this really touched me. I know I have a lot of friends who care about me. In real life, of course, but also quite a few in the online world. Still, I didn't expect such immediate responses. I know a lot of people are constantly displaying their negative moods in their updates, I hardly ever feel that way, though – and when I do I normally stay away from myspace and other such platforms. Maybe it's due to that that some people get strange ideas about how I am, expecting me to be this eternally blissful and balanced person, in total control of her moods, dealing with everything so serenely. Yes, sometimes I am that person ... but a lot of times I am not. There are more than just a few days when I'm far from having the sun shining out my ... umm ... backside — but normally I'll just deal with it, working on it instead of feeling sorry for myself and being pissed with the world. Normally ... not always. So maybe it was because of that — because of it being somewhat unusual for me to publicly announce I felt lonely — that some friends got back to me promptly. I don't know.

What I do know is that those messages reminded me that I had a choice, after all. The shortest one simply said "Ah, Lilli, don't be lonely!" and it made me pull a wry face at first, giving a somewhat bitter and cynical laugh. Yeah, great advice, thanks ... as if it was up to me ... bullshit ... I felt frustrated, something I rarely experience. And then it dawned on me. It was up to me. That bitter laugh really did it for me, it got me out of it. Suddenly I thought of how I had not been alone for so many years ... how there had been somebody to share those special moments — and how often have we just let them pass. I had to admit to myself that I experienced some of the worst moments of loneliness while being in company, ha! Relationship of any kind certainly doesn't guarantee togetherness. And togetherness again doesn't necessarily eliminate loneliness.

A friend of mine once said: "Loneliness is part of the deal" and I guess he's right. Life is what we make it and so is my aloneness. Quite honestly, on most days I am fully aware of how loneliness has it's beauty as well, if not looked at as being a problem. So the bitter laugh turned into a wholehearted smile and I went to bed — still alone but no longer lonely, falling asleep immediately. It probably was what I should have done right away, when realizing it was fatigue making me so prone to pain.

Looking back now, I can smile again and shake my head at my sudden leap of faith, my silly mood swing ... my sense of reality jumping this way, then that, then back again ... no longer sure it is us adapting to reality but possibly rather reality adapting to us ...

The Solitary Girl

The girl in the corner is small, inconspicuous. She sits with her legs pulled tight to her body, embracing herself with skinny arms, hands clasped in front of bruised shins, her cheek resting on top of her knees. She looks forlorn and isolated. Her long, unkempt hair is the color of red brick, concealing her dark little face like a curtain. Sometimes, when people walk by, she looks up and a sudden anxious expression crosses her otherwise unmoved face, her eyes timid like those of a cornered animal. Her lips open slightly, as if to say something, but she never breathes a single word, silently watching the passersby, before sinking back into her own world, away from the noise and the hustle surrounding her. She's dirty and her threadbare clothes are way too big for her thin body. When she shuffles her feet on the blanket you can see her tiny bare toes, grey with dust. She sits motionless, dispassionately staring into space with tired eyes which seem to have seen it all. She is nine, maybe ten years old.

Raising her head now, she puts a finger to her mouth, biting a nail. Her eyes follow a clumsy little dog sniffing at a garbage can in the alley next to her. For a moment her face becomes almost lively, child-like joy brightens her eyes. „Doggie..." she whispers. When the dog owner spots her, he pulls the puppy away, shooting her a disdainful look. Her smile fades away, devoid of passion she drops her arms and persists in the corner until night falls.

When it's dark, she walks over to the dustbin by the street light, searching the discarded carry out bags from the nearby fast food restaurant for leftovers. She takes what she finds back into the corner with her and leaning against the wall, snarfs down half a cold, rubbery cheeseburger and some french fries. Then she lets her tiny body slip down the wall and cloaking herself with the ragged blanket, falls asleep in the dirt. In her sleep she is happy sometimes, her dreams conjuring up vague pictures of the child she used to be, experiencing a joy that has long ceased to extend into the daylight.

She hardly recollects the time when she had a home, a family, a name. The only reality she knows these days is the hunger — and the fear. The fear of humans, of being beaten up, being laughed at and ridiculed. She can not remember what there was before the fear, before alternately being chased after and being chased away, fleeing and hiding like a hunted deer.

Tomorrow, when she wakes, she will move on. Some days she is lucky and people give her a little money, sometimes even enough coins to buy some chocolate. She loves chocolate. She'll scour about until noon, begging in front of the mall, always on the lookout for the police, avoiding to be caught and brought back to that terrible place she fears more than the cold, more than the dirt and loneliness, more than the hunger even. If she can't get enough money for food, she'll hang around the street market at closing time, hoping for the merchants to let her have some of the rotten fruits they can not sell.

In the late afternoon she'll be looking for another dark corner, another place to protect her from the wind, hiding from the world for one more night. Sheltered from the looks of disdainful strangers she'll fall asleep — hungry or not — dreaming the dream of the child she has once been, until waking to another morning, leaving the hope behind with the dream.


(this has been written a long time ago, living in Ireland, inspired by a homeless little girl in the streets of Dublin. After so many years, I dreamt of her the other night and remembered this story from almost twenty years ago, that I wrote after coming across her again and again, sighting her in different places, always on her own, quite unlike the other street kids. I've never been homeless ... and yet I could see myself in her for different reasons ... I have often wondered what may have become of her ... that silent, solitary little street girl with the red hair and sad eyes that I've never been quite able to forget.)

Looking for clues ...

... so it's one of those days that has me sitting pondering ... my diverse health problems, money problems, family and relationship problems, they bring up so many questions, so much emotion ... thought that is thought yet no thought, it comes without analysis, without attempt ... considerations, meditations ... whatever I call them, the questions remain:

Just why is it that one day we can be happy in the moment, joyful and content while the next day the same facts, the same situation – completely unaltered, unchanged – has us all sorrowful, quarreling with the very facts that couldn't disturb us the day before? It doesn't make sense, does it?

What is the process that leads from acceptance back to resistance? Is it chemistry, hormones? Is it something we can control? Or is it beyond our will-power? Can thought bring us any closer to the root of it? Or is thought the very evil that leads us there? As the I Ching says: "thinking only makes the heart sore."

How can it be that one day I feel so strong and equanimous, serenely dealing with everything there is ... and the next morning I wake with a lump in my belly, caused by too many swallowed tears, swallowed disappointments, swallowed pain ... my chest heavy with a hurt that I found so easy to deal with just yesterday ... not today though ... and yet none of the facts seem to have changed ...

If the change is not to be found on the outside, it must surely be sought for on the inside – looking at my perception of those facts. But if the change is there even before I'm quite awake, before there has been any time for thought, creating sorrow, where does the change in my perception come from? What's happening to our psyche from one day to the next, from one moment to another?

Those swallowed tears, turned into stone, how does one turn them back into water, making them flow again, healing and easing the heart? When the rock in the chest starts dragging one down, making it hard to walk upright and look ahead ... when the heart feels like bursting with countless salty clumps which years and years of unbeweept pain have stored there, more than one heart should ever have to hold ... when one feels as if that rock starts turning into a mountain range, a mountain range of ache and anguish, chagrin and disenchantment, how does one remove that weight?

The weight of sorrow seems equal to the weight of the world at times, impossible to carry ... and yet we all do, we all have to ... we try and keep trying ... and we all fail, again and again ... tossing and turning, trying this way and that. But we walk on and on, don't we? Some manage to still walk upright, others bent. Some break and crack under the pressure. We all struggle, we all fight. If surrender is the answer, how do we get there without a feeling of defeat? What does it take to do so with complete acceptance? Why is acceptance so fugitive, so elusive?

Would all sorrow end if we could just stop anticipating? If we didn't expect anything at all, just lived – and dreamt – without expectations, unconditionally ... would we be free from hurt then? Could we enjoy our dreams simply for the joy and hope they convey? But ... is there hope without expectation? Is it possible to hope in a more open-minded way, not focused on just one certain result? Living our lives the way we might read a book – focused but open for whatever is going to happen? And if it is possible, does there necessarily have to be pain where there is hope? What is the opposite of hope? Abandoning? Resignation? Can there be faith where there is no hope? Can there be hope where there is no faith?

Can our dreams and desires become too big for us? Or is it ourselves being not big enough for our desires and dreams? Not complete enough maybe, not whole enough?

What causes us to hurt when we hurt? Disappointed expectations? Fear of loss? And what is it we fear to lose – ourselves? And what exactly does that mean ... losing ourselves? Maybe it's true we have to lose ourselves first in order to finally find ourselves. Our "real" selfs ... for how can we lose what we've never had ... how can we understand what we've never known? Do we really know who we are, somewhere beyond the images of ourselves?

How many of us are completely content with themselves, without looking upon another for recognition or acknowledgment? For most of us it is difficult to see ourselves at all if not perceived through the eyes of another ... our well-being depending to a large degree on that outside perception of ourselves being in harmony with our own perception of who we think we are. Of how we want or even need to be seen. If we do not get the attention we think we deserve, if the outside image is not in accordance with our own images of ourselves, that causes conflict – we often find that hard to accept. We think we need that recognition ... I think we need it because we are not whole – it's a feeling of incompleteness that causes need.

Need ... more conflict, more pain. When what we think is a need can not be satisfied, we find that hard to deal with. But what is that need? What is need in general, somewhere beyond the elementary needs, like food or shelter or basic clothing or the necessities of everyday life? Is not every need that goes beyond that just a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness inside us? If we were completely content with who we are or what we are, comfortable with and by ourselves ... would we really need all that we tend to think we need, trying to stuff the emptiness inside us with all kind of things? Relationships are used for that as much as drugs or shopping or food or fun-seeking of any kind.

We do not feel complete the way we are, we seek completion and fulfilment on the outside instead of within ... but it's a very vulnerable, a very evanescent kind of "completeness", only ever temporary ... as soon as the outside component falls away, when a partner leaves us, when we lose what we cling to – property, relationships, whatever – we are left feeling empty and incomplete again ... hurt, pain, sorrow ... they just wait for us to come running back into their arms – arms that do not bring any comfort – it's an evil circle.

Knowing the answers in the abstract still doesn't bring me any closer to permanently integrating them with 'what is', with reality ... it's not like I understood with my head only ... I can feel the truth of having to look inside myself, I understand it somewhere beyond intellect, beyond reason or rationality, with my heart and soul and every cell of my body at times ... I can see it lying there, that one answer to all these questions ... so close, so seemingly easy to reach ... and yet as if secured behind a wall of armoured glass ... just a few inches away, still impossible to grasp ... somewhat inaccessible.

All I can do, again and again, is fall back onto faith and the belief that the answers will expose themselves once I am ready for them. Until then ... there is nothing to do but live ... and maybe stop trying so hard ...

Ira Progoff: Wisdom of Life

"If I did not believe
That the wisdom of life
Is greater than my own wisdom,
I could not have survived,
But having survived,
It is more than a faith now,
A knowledge.
I know, that,
Great as my wisdom is,
– Almost as great as my will and my desire –
Yet the wisdom of life is greater.
And, as I could not float upon water when I tried to,
Now I can float upon life
Without trying.
In this is my wisdom
And the wisdom of anyone
To know that I know not
How to carry the weight of my existence.
But the waters of life will carry it for me
In their wisdom.
That is the wisdom of life
From which comes all power
And the ultimate glory.
And the greatness of my wisdom lies
In letting life be wise."

Rilke ... speaking from my heart ...

"I am too alone in the world,
and not alone enough to make every moment holy.
I am too tiny in this world,
and not tiny enough just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action,
and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone."

(Rilke)

Today ... today I am bliss!

Did you ever experience that almost overpowering feeling of happiness upon waking up to sheer reasonless bliss? When you open your eyes and feel like hugging the whole world, simply because it is so damned wonderful? Don't ask me "what" is so wonderful ... I do not know "what" exactly. Just everything. And everybody. "It". It is wonderful.

To be here.
To be alive.
To breathe.
To laugh.
To love.
To be able to suffer even.
To hurt.
To worry.
To be granted a heart
and a soul
and a life
and a smile you can never waste, however much you spend it.

A day when you seem to have "radiance" and "ardour" tattooed all over your forehead and you know that everything is worth everything, just for the gift of a moment like this.

This is one of those days. I opened my eyes to happiness and thought: "So what! Just forget all those worries – forget the pain and disappointment and sadness – I LOVE this damned old life! Today I'm not just plain happy ... today I'm not just blissful ... today – well, today I am bliss.

Dreams, hornets and chameleons

Another strange dream tonight – just as surreal as you'd expect any proper dream to be. Just why is it I keep dreaming of insects lately? Maybe I should look up that symbolism after all, the internet is probably full of pages on dream interpretation to assist me. Then again, the answers are most probably hidden somewhere inside myself, so why bother.

Anyway ... after I had this bizarre dream a few weeks ago, where hundreds and thousands of purple maggots came crawling out of a huge lime-green yucca seed I had brought back from Utah, tonight I had another insect dream.

It was so weird. I was outside my room, kind of ... well, not really – but it felt like I was looking in from "some outside", like through a window or from behind a glass pane, somewhat detached.

I was talking to someone I couldn't see when something caught my eye, some movement. Where my lamp should have been (one of those round, white, japanese paper things) there was only a huge hornet's nest, right in the center of the room. I could see the hornets fly about busily, seemingly agitated ... and then the queen hornet came out, boy ... she was immense! She carried a squirming white maggot on her back and I started talking to her as if she was human. I asked her why she was leaving and why she carried that maggot and she said it was to make sure the colony would survive, that I would soon become a threat to them (wouldn't one expect it to be the other way round?) and that she had to take precautions.

Still contemplating the queen hornet's words I floated back into the room, right through the glass pane that was no glass pane (sorry, I really don't know how to describe this) – and as I was moving towards the other end of the room I suddenly spotted a huge, man-sized chameleon on the couch. At first sight it looked pretty much alive, so colorful and alert ... but when I stopped to have a closer look, it seemed to lose it's color all of a sudden, turning greyish and dull. I stared and stared until it finally didn't move at all anymore, apparently it had died ... just it's big mouth was standing wide open, as if about to say something or waiting for food.

Wow ... a seemingly dead, man-sized chameleon with a wide open mouth on my couch ... it was somewhat unsettling ... I went closer, still afraid it might come alive after all, shooting out it's sticky tongue, trying to swallow me ... cautiously and very slowly I sneaked up to it ... it didn't move. Obviously it really was dead, as if it had been killed by my percipience, quite alarming!

While I was looking at it, investigating it's now immobile and more or less unexciting presence, I noticed there was something inside it's mouth – a fish! A small multi-colored fish, like a baitfish, flouncing about in agony, suffocating, drying out ... I considered rescuing it, but it meant coming too close to that still scary, big wide open mouth, reaching into it even ... I couldn't bring myself to do that.
I turned around, feeling sorry, somewhat torn between the wish to save the dying fish and a terrible fear of being swallowed and consumed in the process myself ...

Then I saw somebody enter the room, a woman ... I went over to talk to her, I seemed to know her very well even though I knew I had never seen her before. She asked me about the rat and what I intended to do about it and I said "what rat?" ... "well, the one on your floor, it's already starting to smell, it must have been dead for some time..." she answered.

I looked around but I could see no rat, not at all. I thought maybe she was crazy, seeing things. When I looked back at her she suddenly was my sister though, as if she had never been anybody else ... she was talking about something, something normal, as if the rat had never been mentioned. She also didn't seem to find anything strange in my room, noticing neither the chameleon nor the hornet's nest. We stood there talking and as we did, I could see something crawl up the wall behind her ... cockroaches I thought, disgusted ... I stepped forward to check and then realized they were scorpions, maybe ten of them, right behind her head, only inches away from it. I told her not to move, not to turn around but come slowly over to where I stood ... she did and we both looked at the scorpions, they were golden and carrying some kind of tiara where they normally have the forceps. At times they would come to a halt – very unexpectedly, stopping dead in their tracks – and instead of continuing on their way up the wall when moving again, they would just drop down to the floor, falling ... as soon as they touched ground, they turned into something else: flies, lizards, worms ... dying immediately after the metamorphosis ... the floor was already covered with dead things – and bibles ... very old bibles, faded and yellowed. I felt repelled, nauseated even, but also so very sorry for all those poor dying creatures ... I started crying, watching helplessly.

It was then that I clearly figured it was all just a dream, – I was only dreaming and it would be all over and gone once I opened my eyes ... strange thing is ... instead of that fact coming as a relief, it made me feel somewhat melancholy – I could see them disappear already: the hornets, the chameleon, the scorpions – and I cried even harder.

Then I finally woke up, only minutes before the alarm would have gone off ... time to get up ... and here I sit, still wondering what this was all about ... oh, my – Lilli and her dreams..!

Love Letter to Colorado

Flying along the east coast of Canada, watching the sun go down in the west, I find myself reflecting on how strange and how wonderful these past four weeks in the American West have been. High up above the clouds, in an altitude of 30.000 ft, the heights and peaks, the beauty and wonder of Colorado is coming alive again across the distance, its colors mirrored in the slowly sinking sunbeams outside my window. Recalling my last look at its snowcapped mountains, the tears are right there again, the overwhelming sadness upon having to leave. I certainly never expected the place to touch me like this, so deep, so utterly. Thinking of all the things that had to happen to bring me there, to make me decide to come to Colorado, I can't help but wonder ... are our decisions ever our decisions? Is it really us coming to them, or is it them finding us? We may not even be aware of it, thinking we decide "at random", but there is a story behind every decision and I can see it emerging now, while the distance between me and Colorado is getting bigger, flying back east and into the night.

The Gift

It wasn't like I found Colorado, I think Colorado found me. In some kind of cosmic jigsaw puzzle in which every piece needs to be in the right place for us to be able to discern the hidden motif, things had to happen first – people, pictures and prospects had to come into my life and fall into place there, sending me on my way to find – or be found by – a landscape that moved me like no other before. It took an artist to put the finishing touches to that fragmentary scheme inside my mind ... a poet and a painter ... a poet painting pictures with words.

Some of us are gifted in a way that is hard to fathom – somewhere beyond themselves, in spite of who or how or what they are on a different level. It is a gift bigger than ego, a gift that – concerning themselves – may be a curse as much as a blessing: the unique ability to convey images and emotions regardless of self. It sure comes as a blessing when it leads to bring light, joy and comfort into the lives of others. How they do it though is hard to apprehend – inscrutable maybe – but isn't that how art should really be? Coming without purpose, brought into being by a force to create that is bigger than intent, pure energy finding it's way into the world, the artist merely a transmitter of a beauty and a wisdom hardly palpable to himself.

I have a very special friend who is gifted that way – capable of painting the most expressive pictures with his words, pictures that come alive with emotion, color, scent even – able to add shape and structure until they virtually turn into three-dimensional word sculptures – so vivid, so tangible, almost real.
For himself, he does not always seem able to sustain these pictures he paints so well for others – unable at times to draw upon the energy and strength they impart, intermittently blind to the unbelievable grandeur they transmit when they come from a place in his heart that is pure passion, pure love and true openness to the world.

It must have been from there that he described Colorado to me ... and his words found their way right into my heart, placing the cornerstone for a journey that was to become more than a mere "trip through the Rockies", a journey that seems like a key to yet another cosmic puzzle.

The Place

I loved Colorado. I can't explain why or how but it felt like a homecoming of sorts. I touched ground and was smitten – just like that – without reason. Like big love does, it came totally unexpected, taking my heart by surprise. Looking back now, I think I didn't even realize it at first. It wasn't spectacular. It wasn't the kind of love that makes you freak out. It simply provided me with a feeling of immense ease, depth and happiness. Being there felt just right – perfect even – yet in no way special.

I have been to a lot of places across the world. Quite a few have impressed me or made me want to return. Colorado was different – less striking than Utah, less spiritual than the Sinai, less craggy and steep than the Alps, less exotic than Asia and less remote and wild than Africa – and yet it was so much more. It opened up my heart – I felt at peace with myself, belonging – as absurd as this may sound but it felt like Colorado was simply where I was meant to be, coming back home to a place I've never been to before.

Some regions touched me more than others, some left me rather cold, but still ... finding those pictures I had seen with my heart already while listening to my friend's poetic outpours, exposing themselves to all their beauty right in front of my eyes now, it was sheer bliss - grace and wonder.

Walking and wandering for a full month through Colorado's hills, mountains and prairies, discovering it's manifold landscapes, I could feel an energy that was overwhelming at times, filling me with a serenity and strength I hadn't felt in a long time. I never expected it to be that intense. The worries I had felt before, they fell off my skin and mind once I arrived in the vast emptiness of western Colorado. There was not much room for egocentricity in this energy-laden place where all that matters is the moment and nature – and being in tune with them both. Where beauty is omnipresent, all scent, all color, all wide-open nothingness.

The Beauty

It's in the glitter of the granite, those twinkling silvery sparks on salmon-pink rock, reflecting the evening sunlight ... a sky so blue that it hurts at times ... clouds cumulating into giant celestial castles, tinted yellow and black, violet and red ... it's in the burning sun and the afternoon storms, and in the rain that comes as a relief at times, a curse at others ... it's in the shape of the leathern leaves of the scrub oak and in the pastel charms of the wild flowers ... in the sound of the wind echoing off ancient canyon walls, dissembling distant bygone steam trains ... it's in the luscious mountain meadows as much as in the austere prairie grasses ... in the buzzsaw sound of the cicadas and in the high-pitched cries of the hummingbirds ... it gurgles in the white water rapids and rustles in the aspen leaves ...

And then, it's in the air – in this peculiar Rocky Mountain air that surrounds you like a perfume: strong and spicy, balmy and brisk – an overpowering flavor of moss, pinyon pine and juniper, herbs, flowers and grasses. Nature's breath, enclosing your senses in an aura of scent – so lavish and invigorating, you want to get drunk on it, airily losing yourself in its magic and allure.

Colorado, that is an atmosphere so dense, an energy so full of spirit in certain places, it made my hair stand on end, giving me goosebumps when I sat down and went quiet, trying to open up and get a feeling for what was there around me. As if the air was abuzz with history, replete with the ghosts of long gone cultures ... in those wild rivers and red rocks, in those canyons and grasslands, in those mountains and woods and sacred springs ... one could divine their voices in the wind, whispering of a half-forgotten past, singing of ancient secrets and mysteries.

It cast a spell over me, this colorful state, an enchantment paired with the wish to stay on ... a yearning to return. And I shall – if the cosmos wills it too – as in this very second, on an airplane looking out at the stars and the half moon high above the Atlantic Ocean, I have a vague notion something is waiting for me back there ... something yet to be found. The cosmic puzzle is not accomplished, the picture not complete.

The Gratitude

Thank you my friends, all of you who played a role in making me come to Colorado: Michelle – you kindled the initial spark with your great passion for the land! So right you were about the ancient voices! ... thank you, Natasha ... thank you, Brian ... and finally: thank you, Jeff – wizard of words – for being a not so plain man after all.

Thank you all for your inspiration and motivation, sending my mind on this journey until I had no choice but to follow, 'painting' your poetic pictures, pouring your pictorial poems, praising those landscapes again and again – I can not tell you enough, all of you: Dankeschön!

(Author's note, added in the summer of 2009:)
And return I did, spending another month in the home of my heart, Colorado - made possible only by the immense hospitality of my wonderful and amazing friends in Lyons, Annie and Eben Grace. Thank you so much for your patience, for putting up with me for so many weeks, for making me feel welcome and at home. You guys are the best!

On reed flutes, sugarcane and myself

I am sad. I am upset. I feel lost somehow. Torn. Deep down I'm happy. Deep down I'm blue. I feel as if I'm moving in circles, yet if I look closer I can see they are open spirals, leading me only god knows where ... I experience change and I know it's inevitable ... but to let go of what one held so dear, it's never done easily – I do have faith though, don't get me wrong ... nothing happens without reason, there is meaning in everything we go through and while sometimes we hurt so much, time will always tell and help us understand ... it's that thought I cling to when the pain and disappointment seem so overwhelming at times.

Meanwhile I'm trying to find comfort and balance, and reading Rumi always calms me down. Here is something I came across and somehow it seems to express how I feel, representing my thoughts and emotions so well ... and the last bit of this, the part that starts "Don't come near me!" ... well, it's how it must feel to stand on the other side ... how it must feel to be the other person involved in this separation that still seems so senseless and crazy to me ...

Now, here's "Rumi on Separation" for you:

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

The Reed Flute's Song

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.

"Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source
longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there,
mingling in the laughing and grieving,

a friend to each, but few
will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.
Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from the body: no concealing
that mixing. But it's not given us

to see the soul. The reed flute
is fire, not wind. Be that empty."

Hear the love fire tangled
in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend
to all who want the fabric torn

and drawn away. The reed is hurt
and salve combining. Intimacy

and longing for intimacy, one
song. A disasterous surrender

and a fine love, together. The one
who secretly hears this is senseless.

A tongue has one customer, the ear.
A sugarcane flute has such effect

because it was able to make sugar
in the reedbed. The sound it makes

is for everyone. Days full of wanting,
let them go by without worrying

that they do. Stay where you are
inside such a pure, hollow note.

Every thirst gets satisfied except
that of these fish, the mystics,

who swim a vast ocean of grace
still somehow long for it!

No one lives in that without
being nourished everyday.

But if someone doesn't want to hear
the song of the reed flute,

it's best to cut conversation
short, and say good-bye, and leave.

We know separation so well because we've tasted the union. The reed flute makes music because it has already experienced changing mud and rain and light into sugarcane. Longing becomes more poignant if in the distance you can't tell whether your friend is going away or coming back. The pushing away pulls you in.

Don't come near me!

Sometimes I forget completely
what companionship is
unconscious and insane, I spill sad
energy everywhere. My story
gets told in various ways: a romance,
a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy.

Divide up my forgetfulness to any number,
it will go around.
These dark suggestions that I follow,
are they part of some plan?
Friends be careful. Don't come near me
out of curiosity, or sympathy.

(Rumi)

Joie de vivre

simply...lilli! ... spent the day enjoying the sun ... she got into her tiny little car, wound down the windows as wide as possible, took off her shoes and drove barefoot along deserted country highways ... full speed, the music so loud she could feel the bass pulsate in her bare soles ... on and on she drove ... hair, heart and soul blowing in the wind ... a gorgeous mess of love and life, wearing nothing much but the brightest of smiles.

then she turned off the music and slowed down her speed, listening to the bird's songs, the buzzing bees and the wind in the trees, gently cruising through shaded streets lined by lush green linden trees ... until reaching a bathing pond, got out into the open, stretched out her sun-thirsty body amidst a meadow covered in dandelion blowballs and grasses ... listened to nature's blissful noisy silence until almost too drowsy to make the short walk back through the woods ... into her car ... home again ... carrying that scent of sweat and sun and summer on her skin that makes her feel so brimful of life ...

ah, I so needed this quick side-trip into a vibrant outburst of simple joy ... thank god for life and love!

goodnight, a chairde!

Lama Yeshe: Becoming Your Own Therapist

Okay – so I'm NOT on a crusade trying to proselytize. I do NOT feel tempted to try and lead anybody towards the Buddha or God or any other dogma of any kind.

I'm putting this up for a reason and it's purely personal. Maybe I'm just trying to remind myself. Whoever wants to read will read, whoever feels overwhelmed, simply looking at the amount of words, will do whatever they want.

Rereading this after not having looked at it for a couple of years, it brings a friend to mind, who I believe to understand this better than anybody else I know, constantly occupying his mind with all these questions, while at the same time struggling so much with them, failing to put the understanding into practice. And I find that I struggle with that, with this friend's struggle, not understanding how it can be, to obviously understand and at the same time to obviously NOT understand.

That I find it so hard to accept another's struggle or disability to deal with a life that is not mine, letting go of a pain that is not my own – or shouldn't be – instead of dealing with my own life the way I should ... well, it seems like I still have a long way to go in 'becoming my own therapist'... so, for those who care: here's the read:


BECOMING YOUR OWN THERAPIST — An Introduction to the Buddhist Way of Thought

(by Lama Thubten Yeshe)

People have many different ideas about the nature of religion in general and Buddhism in particular ... In Buddhism we're not that interested in talking about the Buddha himself. Nor was he; he wasn't interested in people believing in him, so to this day Buddhism has never encouraged its followers simply to believe in the Buddha. We have always been more interested in understanding human psychology, the nature of the mind. Thus, Buddhist practitioners always try to understand their own mental attitudes, concepts, perceptions and consciousness. Those are the things that really matter.

Otherwise, if you forget about yourself and your delusions and focus instead on some lofty idea—like 'What is Buddha or What is God?'—your spiritual journey becomes a dream-like hallucination. In your mind there's no connection between Buddha, or God, and yourself. They're completely separate things: you're completely down here; Buddha, or God, is completely up there. It's not realistic to think that way. It's too extreme. You're putting one thing down at the lower extreme and the other way up at the upper. In Buddhism, we call that kind of mind dualistic.

Furthermore, if humans are completely negative by nature, what is the point of seeking a higher idea? Anyway, ideas are not realizations. People always want to know all about the highest attainments or the nature of God, but such intellectual knowledge has nothing to do with their lives or their minds. True religion should be the pursuit of self-realization, not an exercise in the accumulation of facts.

In Buddhism, we are not particularly interested in the quest for intellectual knowledge alone. We are much more interested in understanding what's happening here and now, in comprehending our present experiences, what we are at this very moment, our fundamental nature. We want to know how to find satisfaction, how to find happiness and joy instead of depression and misery, how to overcome the feeling that our nature is totally negative.

Buddha himself taught that basically, human nature is pure, egoless, just as the sky is by nature clear, not cloudy. Clouds come and go, but the blue sky is always there; clouds don't alter the fundamental nature of the sky. Similarly, the human mind is fundamentally pure, not one with the ego. Anyway, whether you are a religious person or not, if you can't separate yourself from your ego, you're completely misguided; you've created for yourself a totally unrealistic philosophy of life that has nothing whatsoever to do with reality.

Instead of grasping at intellectual knowledge, wanting to know what's the highest thing going, you'd be much better off trying to gain an understanding of the basic nature of your own mind and how to deal with it right now. It is so important to know how to act effectively: method is the key to any religion, the most important thing to learn.

Say you hear about an amazing treasure house containing jewels for the taking but don't have the key to the door: all your fantasies about how you'll spend your new-found wealth are a complete hallucination. Similarly, fantasizing about wonderful religious ideas and peak experiences but having no interest in immediate action or the methods of attainment is totally unrealistic. If you have no method, no key, no way to bring your religion into your everyday life, you'd be better off with Coca-Cola. At least that quenches your thirst. If your religion is simply an idea, it's as insubstantial as air. You should be very careful that you understand exactly what religion is and how it should be practiced.

The Buddha said, 'Belief is not important. Don't believe what I say just because I said it.' These were his dying words. 'I have taught many different methods because there are many different individuals. Before you embrace any of them, use your wisdom to check that they fit your psychological make-up, your own mind. If my methods seem to make sense and work for you, by all means adopt them. But if you don't relate to them, even though they might sound wonderful, leave them be. They were taught for somebody else.'

These days, you can't tell most people that they should believe something just because Buddha said, because God said. It's not enough for them. They'll reject it; they want proof. But those who cannot understand that the nature of their mind is pure will be unable to see the possibility of discovering their innate purity and will lose whatever chance they had to do so. If you think that your mind is fundamentally negative, you tend to lose all hope.

Of course, the human mind has both positive and negative sides. But the negative is transient, very temporary. Your up and down emotions are like clouds in the sky; beyond them, the real, basic human nature is clear and pure.

Many people misunderstand Buddhism. Even some professors of Buddhist studies look at just the words and interpret what the Buddha taught very literally. They don't understand his methods, which are the real essence of his teachings. In my opinion, the most important aspect of any religion is its methods: how to put that religion into your own experience. The better you understand how to do that, the more effective your religion becomes. Your practice becomes so natural, so realistic; you easily come to understand your own nature, your own mind, and you don't get surprised by whatever you find in it. Then, when you understand the nature of your own mind, you'll be able to control it naturally; you won't have to push so hard; understanding naturally brings control.

Many people will imagine that control of the mind is some kind of tight, restrictive bondage. Actually, control is a natural state. But you're not going to say that, are you? You're going to say that the mind is uncontrolled by nature, that it is natural for the mind to be uncontrolled. But it's not. When you realize the nature of your uncontrolled mind, control comes as naturally as your present uncontrolled state arises. Moreover, the only way to gain control over your mind is to understand its nature. You can never force your mind, your internal world, to change. Nor can you purify your mind by punishing yourself physically, by beating your body. That's totally impossible. Impurity, sin, negativity or whatever else you want to call it is psychological, a mental phenomenon, so you can't stop it physically. Purification requires a skillful combination of method and wisdom.

To purify your mind, you don't have to believe in something special up there—God, or Buddha. Don't worry about that. When you truly realize the up and down nature of your everyday life, the characteristic nature of your own mental attitude, you'll automatically want to implement a solution.

These days, many people are disillusioned with religion; they seem to think it doesn't work. Religion works. It offers fantastic solutions to all your problems. The problem is that people don't understand the characteristic nature of religion, so they don't have the will to implement its methods.

Consider the materialistic life. It's a state of complete agitation and conflict. You can never fix things to be the way you want. You can't just wake up in the morning and decide exactly how you want your day to unfold. Forget about weeks, months, or years; you can't even predetermine one day. If I were to ask you right now if you can get up in the morning and set exactly how your day was going to go, how you were going to feel each moment, what would you say? There's no way you can do that, is there?

No matter how much you make yourself materially comfortable, no matter how you arrange your house—you have this, you have that; you put one thing here, you put another there—you can never manipulate your mind in the same way. You can never determine the way you're going to feel all day. How can you fix your mind like that? How can you say, 'Today I'm going to be like this'? I can tell you with absolute certainty, as long as your mind is uncontrolled, agitated and dualistic, there's no way; it's impossible. When I say this, I'm not putting you down; I'm just talking about the way the mind works. What all this goes to show is that no matter how you make yourself materially comfortable, no matter how much you tell yourself, 'Oh, this makes me happy, today I'm going to be happy all day long,' it's impossible to predetermine your life like that. Automatically, your feelings keep changing, changing, changing.
This shows that the materialistic life doesn't work. However, I don't mean that you should renounce the worldly life and become ascetics. That's not what I'm saying. My point is that if you understand spiritual principles correctly and act accordingly, you will find much greater satisfaction and meaning in your life than you will by relying on the sense world alone. The sense world alone cannot satisfy the human mind.

Thus, the only purpose for the existence of what we call religion is for us to understand the nature of our own psyche, our own mind, our own feelings. Whatever name we give to our spiritual path, the most important thing is that we get to know our own experiences, our own feelings. Therefore, the lamas' experience of Buddhism is that instead of emphasizing belief, it places prime importance on personal experimentation, putting Dharma methods into action and assessing the effect they have on our minds: do these methods help? Have our minds changed or are they just as uncontrolled as they ever were? This is Buddhism, and this method of checking the mind is called meditation.

It's an individual thing; you can't generalize. It all comes down to personal understanding, personal experience. If your path is not providing solutions to your problems, answers to your questions, satisfaction to your mind, you must check up. Perhaps there's something wrong with your point of view, your understanding. You can't necessarily conclude that there's something wrong with your religion just because you tried it and it didn't work. Different individuals have their own ideas, views, and understanding of religion, and can make mistakes. Therefore, make sure that the way you understand your religion's ideas and methods is correct. If you make the right effort on the basis of right understanding, you will experience deep inner satisfaction. Thus, you'll prove to yourself that satisfaction does not depend on anything external. True satisfaction comes from the mind.

We often feel miserable and our world seems upside-down because we believe that external things will work exactly as we plan and expect them to. We expect things that are changeable by nature not to change, impermanent things to last forever. Then, when they do change, we get upset. Getting upset when something in your house breaks shows that you didn't really understand its impermanent nature. When it's time for something to break, it's going to break, no matter what you expect.

Nevertheless, we still expect material things to last. Nothing material lasts; it's impossible. Therefore, to find lasting satisfaction, you should put more effort into your spiritual practice and meditation than into manipulating the world around you. Lasting satisfaction comes from your mind, from within you. Your main problem is your uncontrolled, dissatisfied mind, whose nature is suffering.

Knowing this, when any problem arises, instead of getting upset because of your unfulfilled expectations and busily distracting yourself with some external activity, relax, sit down and examine the situation with your own mind. That is a much more constructive way of dealing with problems and pacifying your mind. Moreover, when you do this, you are allowing your innate knowledge-wisdom to grow. Wisdom can never grow in an agitated, confused and restless mind.

Agitated mental states are a major obstacle to your gaining of wisdom. So too is the misconception that your ego and your mind's nature are one and the same. If that's what you believe, you'll never be able to separate them and reach beyond ego. As long as you believe that you are totally in the nature of sin and negativity you will never be able to transcend them. What you believe is very important and very effectively perpetuates your wrong views. In the West, people seem to think that if you aren't one with your ego, you can't have a life, get a job or do anything. That's a dangerous delusion—you can't separate ego from mind, ego from life. That's your big problem. You think that if you lose your ego you'll lose your personality, your mind, your human nature.

That's simply not true; you shouldn't worry about that. If you lose your ego you'll be happy—you should be happy. But of course, this raises the question, what is the ego? In the West, people seem to have so many words for the ego, but do they know what the ego really is? Anyway, it doesn't matter how perfect your English is, the ego is not a word; the word is just a symbol. The actual ego is within you: it's the wrong conception that your self is independent, permanent and inherently existent. In reality, what you believe to be 'I' doesn't exist.

If I were to ask everybody here to check deeply, beyond words, what they thought the ego was, each person would have a different idea. I'm not joking; this is my experience. You should check your own. We always say, very superficially, 'That's your ego,' but we have no idea of what the ego really is. Sometimes we even use the term pejoratively: 'Oh, don't worry, that's just your ego,' or something like that, but if you check up more deeply, you'll see that the average person thinks that the ego is his personality, his life. Men feel that if they were to lose their ego, they'd lose their personalities, they'd no longer be men; women feel that were they to lose their ego they'd lose their female qualities. That's not true; not true at all. Still, based on Westerners' interpretation of life and ego, that's pretty much what it comes down to. They think the ego is something positive in the sense that it's essential for living in society; that if you don't have an ego, you can't mix in society. You check up more deeply—on the mental level, not the physical. It's interesting.

Even many psychologists describe the ego at such a superficial level that you'd think it was a physical entity. From the Buddhist point of view, the ego is a mental concept, not a physical thing. Of course, symptoms of ego activity can manifest externally, such as when, for example, someone's angry and his face and body reflect that angry vibration. But that's not anger itself; it's a symptom of anger. Similarly, ego is not its external manifestations but a mental factor, a psychological attitude. You can't see it from the outside.

When you meditate, you can see why today you're up, tomorrow you're down: mood swings are caused by your mind. People who don't check within themselves come up with very superficial reasons like, 'I'm unhappy today because the sun's not shining,' but most of the time your ups and downs are due to primarily psychological factors.

When a strong wind blows, the clouds vanish and blue sky appears. Similarly, when the powerful wisdom that understands the nature of the mind arises, the dark clouds of ego disappear. Beyond the ego—the agitated, uncontrolled mind—lie everlasting peace and satisfaction. That's why Lord Buddha prescribed penetrative analysis of both your positive and your negative sides. In particular, when your negative mind arises, instead of being afraid, you should examine it more closely.

You see, Buddhism is not at all a tactful religion, always trying to avoid giving offense. Buddhism addresses precisely what you are and what your mind is doing in the here and now. That's what makes it so interesting. You can't expect to hear only positive things. Sure you have a positive side, but what about the negative aspects of your nature? To gain an equal understanding of both, an understanding of the totality of your being, you have to look at your negative characteristics as well as the positive ones, and not try to cover them up.

I don't have much more to say right now, but I'd be happy to try to answer some questions.

Q: Lama, were you saying that we should express rather than suppress our negative actions, that we should let the negativity come out?

Lama: It depends. There are two things. If the negative emotion has already bubbled to the surface, it's probably better to express it in some way, but it's preferable if you can deal with it before it has reached that level. Of course, if you don't have a method of dealing with strong negative emotions and you try to bottle them up deep inside, eventually that can lead to serious problems, such as an explosion of anger that causes someone to pick up a gun and shoot people. What Buddhism teaches is a method of examining that emotion with wisdom and digesting it through meditation, which allows the emotion to simply dissolve. Expressing strong negative emotions externally leaves a tremendously deep impression on your consciousness. This kind of imprint makes it easier for you to react in the same harmful way again, except that the second time it may be even more powerful than the first. This sets up a karmic chain of cause and effect that perpetuates such negative behavior. Therefore, you have to exercise skill and judgment in dealing with negative energy, learn when and how to express it and, especially, know how to recognize it early in the piece and digest it with wisdom.

Q: Could you please explain the relationship between Buddhist meditation techniques and hatha yoga?

Lama: In Buddhism we tend to focus more on penetrative introspection than on bodily movement, although there are certain practices where the meditation techniques are enhanced by physical exercises. In general, Buddhist meditation teaches us to look within at what we are, to understand our own true nature. All the same, Buddhist meditation does not necessarily imply sitting in the lotus position with your eyes closed—meditation can be brought into every aspect of your daily life. It is important to be aware of everything you do so that you don't unconsciously harm either yourself or others. Whether you are walking, talking, working, eating...whatever you do, be conscious of the actions of your body, speech and mind.

Q: Do Buddhists control their prana [wind energy] completely through the mind?

Lama: Yes. If you can control your mind, you can control anything. It's impossible to control your physical body without first controlling your mind. If you try to control your body forcibly, if you pump yourself up with no understanding of the mind-body relationship, it can be very dangerous and cause your mind great harm.

Q: Can you reach as deep a state of meditation through walking as you can through sitting?

Lama: Sure, it's theoretically possible, but it depends upon the individual. For beginners, it is obviously much easier to attain deeper states of concentration through sitting meditation. Experienced meditaters, however, can maintain single-pointed concentration, a fully integrated mind, whatever they're doing, including walking. Of course, if someone's mind is completely disturbed, even sitting meditation may not be enough for him to integrate his mind. One of the hallmarks of Buddhism is that you can't say that everybody should do this, everybody should be like that; it depends on the individual. However, we do have a clearly defined, step-like path of meditation practice: first you develop this, then you move on to that, and so on through the various levels of concentration. Similarly, the entire path to enlightenment—we call it the lam-rim— has been laid out in a graded, logical fashion so that each person can find his or her own level and take it from there.

Q: Lama, can the various negative thoughts that arise in our minds come from a source outside of ourselves, from other people, or perhaps from spirits?

Lama: Well, that's a very good question. The real source, the deep root of negativity, lies within our own minds, but for this to manifest usually requires interaction with a cooperative, environmental cause, such as other people or the material world. For example, some people experience mood swings as a result of astrological influences, such as the vibration of planetary movement. Others' emotions fluctuate because of hormonal changes in their bodies. Such experiences do not come from their minds alone but through the interaction of physical and mental energy. Of course, we would also say that the fact that we find ourselves in a body susceptible to this kind of change originally comes from our minds. But I don't think Lord Buddha would say that there is some outer spirit harming you like that. What is possible is that your inner energy is relating to some outer energy, and that it is that interaction that makes you sick.

You can see from your own life experiences how the environment can affect you. When you're amongst peaceful, generous, happy people, you're inclined to feel happy and peaceful yourself. When you're amongst angry, aggressive people, you tend to become like them. The human mind is like a mirror. A mirror does not discriminate but simply reflects whatever's before it, no matter whether it's horrible or wonderful. Similarly, your mind takes on the aspect of your surroundings, and if you're not aware of what's going on, your mind can fill with garbage. Therefore, it is very important to be conscious of your surroundings and how they affect your mind.

The thing that you have to understand about religion is how your religion relates to your own mind, how it relates to the life you lead. If you can manage that, religion is fantastic; the realizations are there. You don't need to emphasize belief in God, or Buddha, or sin or whatever; don't worry about all that. Just act out of right understanding as best you can and you'll get results, even today. Forget about super consciousness or super universal love—universal love grows slowly, steadily, gradually. If, however, you're just clinging to the notion, 'Oh, fantastic! Infinite knowledge, infinite power,' you're simply on a power trip. Of course, spiritual power really does exist, but the only way you can get it is by engaging in the proper spiritual actions. Power comes from within you; part of you becomes power, too. Don't think that the only true power is up there, somewhere in the sky. You have power; your mind is power.

Q: Perception is one of the five aggregates that, according to Buddhist philosophy, constitute a person. How does it work?

Lama: Yes, that's another good question. Most of the time, our perception is illusory; we're not perceiving reality. Sure, we see the sense world—attractive shapes, beautiful colors, nice tastes and so forth—but we don't actually perceive the real, true nature of the shapes, colors and tastes we see. That's how most of the time our perception is mistaken. So our mistaken perception processes the information supplied by our five senses and transmits incorrect information to our mind, which reacts under the influence of the ego. The result of all this is that most of the time we are hallucinating, not seeing the true nature of things, not under- standing the reality of even the sense world.

Q: Does past karma affect our perception?

Lama: Yes, of course. Past karma affects our perception a lot. Our ego grasps at our uncontrolled perception's view, and our mind just follows along: that entire uncontrolled situation is what we call karma. Karma is not simply some irrelevant theory; it's the everyday perceptions in which we live, that's all.

Q: Lama, what is the relationship between the body and mind as far as food is concerned.

Lama: Body is not mind, mind is not body, but the two have a very special connection. They are very closely linked, very sensitive to changes in each other. For example, when people take drugs, the substance doesn't affect the mind directly. But since the mind is connected to the body's nervous system and sense organs, changes induced in the nervous system by the drug throw it out of harmony and cause the mind to hallucinate. There's a very strong connection between the body and the mind. In Tibetan tantric yoga, we take advantage of that strong connection: by concentrating strongly on the body's psychic channels we can affect the mind accordingly. Therefore, even in everyday life, the food you eat and the other things your body touches have an effect on your mind.

Q: Is fasting good for you?

Lama: Fasting is not all that important unless you are engaged in certain special mind training practices. Then, fasting may even be essential. This is certainly the lamas' experience. For example, if you eat and drink all day and then try to meditate in the evening, your concentration will be very poor. Therefore, when we're doing serious meditation, we eat only once a day. In the morning, we just drink tea; at midday we have lunch; and in the evening, instead of eating, we again drink tea. For us, this kind of routine makes life desirably simple and the body very comfortable; but for someone not engaged in mind training, it would probably feel like torture. Normally, we don't advocate fasting. We tell people not to punish themselves but simply to be happy and reasonable and to keep their bodies as healthy as they can. If your body gets weak, your mind becomes useless. When your mind becomes useless, your precious human life becomes useless. But on special occasions, when fasting enhances your meditation practice, when there's a higher purpose, I would say yes, fasting can be good for you.

Thank you very much. If there are no further questions, I won't keep you any longer. Thank you very much.

Brisbane, Australia, 28 April 1975

(http://www.lamayeshe.com)

Froglessness

The first fruition of the practice
is the attainment of froglessness.

When a frog is put on the center of a plate,
she will jump out of the plate after just a few seconds.

If you put the frog back again on the center of the plate,
she will again jump out.

You have so many plans.
There is something you want to become.
Therefore you always want to make a leap, a leap forward.
It is difficult to keep the frog still on the center of the plate.

You and I both have Buddha Nature in us.
This is encouraging,
but you and I both have Frog Nature in us.

That is why the first attainment of the practice –
froglessness is its name.

(Thich Nhat Hanh)

Grus grus – Heralds of Spring

I am tired of winter by now, tired of the cold, tired of the greyness, wetness and emptiness, the fierce winds and snow. I want to feel some warmth upon my body, I yearn for the sunlight upon my face, for flowers, insects and colours ... I want to enjoy the outdoors again, walk barefoot through the dewy grass, I want to be overwhelmed with the spicy scent of the lilac in the gardens, I long for a bird's song in the morning and nakedness at night ... I long for spring.

And I think it is just around the corner ... the flowers can hardly wait to pop open and sink us in an ocean of colours and scents ... I can feel the change in the atmosphere. The wind is becoming milder, the sun is getting warmer and I'm starting to get the slightest notion of the almost forgotten sounds of spring – the buzzing of bees and flies, the wild noise of mating cats, kids laughing, playing outside.

Yet there is one sound almost tantamount to spring – being so distinct, so dear and familiar to me: the sound of the cranes going north!

Last weekend I had this year's first sighting of these sublime waterfowls, heralds of the spring. The Eurasian crane, "grus grus" – how I love this name ever since I first learned it as a kid – flocks and flocks of these beautiful bluish-grey birds flying past, returning from their African winter quarters ... hundreds of them gathering high above my head, circling, spiralling up to even higher altitudes, reforming their mighty triangles in the sky before elegantly proceeding on their journey ... necks held straight, wings stretched wide ... all grace and beauty.

The air was filled with their spine-tingling call, as if they wanted to drive the winter away, the noise echoing in my winter-weary soul all night long ... comforting me with the auspicious, much longed-for certainty: spring ... yes ... soon!!


Here's a poem by Marilyn Peretti, dedicated to these great birds – my beloved cranes:

Ardour

This ardour has flown in so recently,
entered this life of years
after expectation had worn thin like glass,
yet now has nested tightly in my chest
like some organ that insists on pumping oxygen,
forcing its way through,
to the point of improving vital signs:

these widespread wings
of common cranes,
that lift and push, lift and glide,
over my head, over my trees, across my earth,
pulling this temporal being
up into their cool orbit,
entrusting me with wings.

Rilke: The Panther

Rilke's poem ... it reminded me of somebody ... looking at the world from behind bars that addiction and struggle create for him ... and it makes me sad, touching me so much ...

The Panther

Jardin des Plantes, Paris

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1907
(translation: Stephen Mitchell)

something by Brazilian poet Manuel Bandeira

"To be like a river that flows

silent through the night,

not fearing the darkness and

reflecting any stars high in the sky.



And if the sky is filled with clouds,

the clouds are water like the river, so

without remorse reflect them too

in the calm deep."

I’m blessed because ...

... I have those wonderful, loving friends ... and I would be nothing without them.

I love my friends for who they are and for what they do as much as for what they don't, for taking me out of my self at times and for reconciling me with it at others.

I love them for being caring and sympathetic and big-hearted and generous, reasonable and funny and crazy and wise, amazing and understanding and wild and insightful and candid and honest and sensible and sometimes for being such terrible pains in the ass.

I love them for telling me I'm greatness when I feel like chicken-shit, for dealing with my moods and madness, my dreams and temporary despair, I love them for telling me not to take myself so fucking seriously when I lose myself in drama, for feeding me when I'm hungry and soothing me when I hurt, for listening to me when I overflow with thoughts and for simply being there when I think I'm lost, I love them for making me laugh when I want to cry, for making my fly when I think I must crawl and for keeping my feet firmly on the ground when I run danger of losing myself in the stars and the clouds.

I love them for their strength as much as for their weakness, their wit as much as their fears, I love them in their ups and downs and joys and angers. They catch my fall, they ease my sorrow, they open my heart and my eyes, they make me smile and sing and dance, they make me shout and scream and cry at times but they are always there to reason, to talk, to make up again.

I love them for sharing my crazy life with me and letting me know they love me back ... their words and deeds and thoughts mean the world to me.

I think I'm blessed. I know I am.

Conversations with my Gardener ... so enchanting!

I'm just back from the cinema and still full of wonder ... what an enchanting movie ... has anybody seen the film "Conversations with my Gardener"? If you haven't yet, try see it, you'll love it, I'm sure!! It's such a small, simple yet breathtakingly wonderful movie – a French one, based on a memoir by painter Henri Cueco – it makes your heart swell up to the size of a big orange pumpkin, or so it feels! The story is so enchanting in it's simplicity, it's artless honesty, so down to earth, so stark, so beautiful – just these two men, a somewhat successful but embittered artist and a plain but happy gardener, spending those little moments together while they both do their daily work – one painting, the other one planting vegetables – engaging in simple dialogues about life.

It brought tears of joy and happiness to my eyes, so funny at times, so endearing at others, the way the gardener talks about the world as he sees it – plain and simple, so full of wonder – his life so completely unremarkable compared to the artist's life and yet he is full of joy, like a child, knowing no bitterness or envy, rejoicing over such tiny pleasures.

To see these two men come to see the world anew through each other's eyes, it's so intriguing, realizing how no dialogue can really go any deeper in it's essence.
As simple as their conversations are – rooted in mere common sense – they are as spiritual as anything ever will be.

If you have any sense for that kind of simple beauty, you'll definitely enjoy that movie a lot!!

If you do not have the chance to watch it in a cinema near you – I think the DVD will be out in March, just check it out if you think of it – I feel this has been the greatest small movie I have seen in ages ...

I'm just so cheerful, I couldn't help but share this – thanks for listening ;-)

No new year's resolutions ... perpetual all year's resolutions

well, to dwell upon the subject a little more ... here's a little bric-a-brac, things that came to my mind when I thought of all the things that I wouldn't make into new year's resolutions ... which doesn't mean I'm not serious about them ... I am ... but I so dislike dogmas ... I might just call them everlasting all year options, some already in practice, some firm intentions, some worth a try, some mere aspects of what I talk about in today's other blog ... anyway, here they are:

What I might do this year (and any other) without making any resolution to do so...

go to bed earlier ... sculpt a raptor ... throw away old things I've kept for too long ... paint my kitchen ... eat more fruits ... relax more ... seek connection ... confront things bravely ... be open for the extraordinary, new and unusual ... be patient ... call my friends more often ... visit my dad ... have fun ... be crazy ... ride my bike ... be giggly and goofy and all silly lilli ... be decisive in my action ... be true and authentic ... appreciate my friends ... travel ... finish old arguments ... go hiking ... be reliable ... say yes more often than maybe ... kiss people I love ... do things passionately but with compassion for others ... smile ... end old habits that keep me up at night ... visit far away friends ... get rid of what is not healthy ... call my landlord ... be mindful ... rollerskate ... communicate ... be less expectant ... be there for people who need me ... see more live music ... think of drinking enough BEFORE I dehydrate ... eat whatever I feel like in whatever amounts ... be willing to take risks ... fall in love ... be considerate ... gain weight ... be serene ... be a little naughty at times ... be conscious of my needs as much as of my responsibilities ... plant flowers ... leave the Church ... go out more often ... cook dinner for myself ... make new friends ... make doctor's appointments ... spend less time in front of the computer ... spend a lot of time with my nephew ... be honest with people ... try not to hurt anybody's feelings ... be more enthusiastic ... paint again ... find out who I am ... face my fears ... get rid of old ballast ... be genuine ... drink more tea ... tidy out the cellar ... take my meditation more seriously again ... pay more attention to my instincts ... be happy ... spend time all by myself ... be content ... start knitting socks ... be loud ... be silent ... be more understanding of other's faults and acknowledge my own ... avoid making too many plans ... be open for the unexpected ... simply be myself.

Happiness and the turn of the year ...

"And now let us welcome the New Year – full of things that have never been." (Rilke)

A week ago I have been asked how I felt about the new year and if I had any new year's resolutions and all I felt able to do was shrug the whole subject off. I felt empty and sad, somewhat lost and disoriented, completely devoid of imagination, passion or any kind of decided opinion. I realized I needed a little distance to what was happening, stepping back and taking a good look at what was there – or not there – inside me.

So I retreated into the silence and solitude of the countryside ... to my funny old rocking chair by the fire, going for long nightly walks across the empty fields all covered in white by frost and by snow, looking at the countless stars in the sky above ... waiting for things to expose themselves, watching my thoughts come and go, emotions arise and disappear again, reflecting on what came up, trying not to analyze too much but let the answers find their own way into my heart ... knowing they always do ... however painful the process may be at times, in the end clarity is the reward.

I've never been a great believer in "date related" resolutions. If I feel I have been mistaken in my behaviour – acting unwisely – or if I simply find I need to change certain things in my life, resolving to correct my course, I'll always try to change and readjust as soon as I become aware of the fact, so all through the year there may be new resolutions to accomplish.

There is one resolution though (I call it my "perpetual resolution") that I have to remind myself of at regular intervals – New Year's Eve being as welcome an occasion as any other – and that is to be happy in the moment! To find delight in what is right in front of me, in recalling the many reasons for gratitude, the simple joy of being alive and human and in that blessed with so many gifts – what a grace, what beauty! To see that again and feel the soothing, deeply pacifying humility and bliss rooted in that awareness – it always brings me right back into harmony with the world inside and outside my self. Coming face to face with the "reality of simplicity", regaining an awareness of the moment, I finally managed to feel more light-hearted again, more hopeful and optimistic looking ahead, more thankful and understanding looking back.

Life has a funny way of throwing unexpected things at us and I do not always know how to deal with them, I feel temporarily lost or betrayed, hopeless, confused or somewhat resigned to fate. At such moments it takes a lot of energy, self conquest and mindfulness to go beyond the self-pity and fear, the feelings of futility and purposelessness and it's always that one resolution, that one aim that brings back the confidence and strength: to be happy in the moment ... to remember that it is myself who decides whether to concentrate on the good or the bad, whether I want to see the reasons for thankfulness or for bitterness, the beauty or the misery.

A resolution isn't accomplished the day it's stated, it probably isn't even accomplished the day you reach your goal, it's a constant process, achieved in many small increments along the way, many small successes. At times we progress, at others we fall back. The turn of the year is a good time to renew those resolutions we have made before and then disregarded or neglected to some degree. It's a good time to reflect, to reconsider, to contemplate – to see where we went wrong, where we failed ourselves and others.

But ... we should also make sure we acknowledge what we do have achieved over the year, where we did develop or grow, where we made progress and changed for the better, where we made people happy, where we have been there for others.
"We can not give what we do not have" ... so true ... and to recognize our qualities (as well as our defects) we must stay honest with and true to ourselves – to who we really are, deep inside – or we run danger of misleading ourselves and others. Yet we should remember there is always more than one way of looking at things. We may not always see or understand in how far we have been of service to another, thinking of ourselves as having been selfish, of having been wrong, when really there was some kind of sense in everything that happened, everything we did ... somewhere beyond our grasp, making sense in the greater scheme of things.

German poet Rainer Maria Rilke described the turning of the years as "a great leaf, that God and you and I have covered with writing...", envisioning the New Year as "a bright new page, where everything yet can happen." He also reminds us that the future belongs to the realm of things that are beyond our control. Fate measures the page unmoved by us, however much we like the idea of being in control. And yet – somewhere beyond our will power, our wishes or expectations, our disappointments and failures even – there is hope, confidence, belief ... that in the future "everything yet can happen." ...

Just consider that thought – carrying so much comfort if you decide to see the good instead of the bad, the many possibilities instead of the risks: When everything yet can happen, it means being given a new chance – the New Year is a "new page", a new beginning. It is up to ourselves to let go of the failures and regrets, the resentments, fears and angers of the past. It is on us to forgive ourselves our errors and misconducts, to make up for them and try to grow, to believe in a deeper meaning in everything we have been allowed to experience. A "New Year – full of things that have never been" ... doesn't that sound promising and rewarding, pleasantly exciting, vibrant of life?

So when my friends finally arrived to end my self chosen solitude and share New Year's Eve with me, asking again how I felt about the new year and if I had any New Year's Resolutions, my answer was: I'm happy in the moment, resolving to remain happy in the moments to come, thankful for what has been and looking forward to whatever will come into being ... to remember that and remind myself in time should I forget, that is my perpetual All Year's Resolution.

"The secret of happiness is the determination to be happy always, rather than wait for outer circumstances to make one happy. It is a long succession of little decisions simply to be happy in the moment." (J. Donald Walters)