la vie est belle...

these words and this thought

became a constant companion.

i wrote it on a piece of paper

and i wrote it on my heart

with each and every day.

la vie est belle... la vie est belle.

photograph taken in menerbes.

la vie est belle...

that’s exactly what it is !

i arrived back home from the provence late last tuesday evening. and as welcoming and wonderful and comforting as it is to always find your way back home, there was (and still is…) a hint of me that simply wanted to stay. just a little longer. or a whole lot longer. or maybe even a whole life time longer. and to be honest, i don’t even know where to begin with my stories and my tellings… the sharings of all that was and all that is.

and in some ways, some of these stories feel best simply shared with words in spoken conversation to a friend, or in the sweet smile of simply remembering, simply knowing and simply holding them close within.

it’s in moments like that, in moments of conversations or personal rememberings, that you keep it alive. that you keep it real. and it’s simply, ever so simply, these things and those moments that are a part of all what is and all what composes everything that is this wonderful you.

yes.

la vie est belle…

and there is such an energy and so many little wonders and goodness that feel as though they are twirling around me these days. with every day. and i want to spill it all. capture and recapture each moment. but i simply can’t. i just want to live it. each moment. as it happens. and awe and adore and breathe and be it all. i don’t even know if there are enough words. for the emotions. the sensations. and when the quiet moments find themselves, i simply take them for all the beauty that the quiet is. to reflect. to enjoy. and to simply let it be.

(and as i write this… another little wonder happened. these are the moments. these are the days. and in the midsts of it all. i simply find myself grateful. thankful and grateful. and simply happy…)

what are the things i want to share about those days of the provence? i’d simply rather say, “come on over for a cup of coffee… or a glass of wine.” and i’d simply rather tell you the stories as they open themselves. but also, because i want to hear your stories… i’d want to hear of the magic and the wonder and the little moments of your days.

i’d tell you stories about that sensation of knowing you’re starting a journey. and not just a journey to a destination, but the journey within a journey. listening to the inner voice. to that intuition. and finding the way. and not just on a map, but within yourself. (although sometimes I wonder why we can’t always have a naviagtion and gps that leads us thru life and not just along the road?). one of the questions that fell upon me in a gentle, familiar and reminding way was “worauf wartest du eigentlich… worauf wartest du?”. (what are you waiting for… what is it that you’re waiting for)”.

i’d tell you stories about the most beautiful countrysides and landscapes, colours as light and shadow play a game amongst themselves. of olive trees and cypress trees. and vineyards. beautiful, lush vineyards that teased you with new colours and the sweetest taste on your lips and tongue every day. I’d tell you of the old man that passed me on his walks every day, starting just with his nod of his head, then slowly to a “bonjour madame…” and then to a smile on his face with his “bonjour”… and finally seeing how I was becoming a part of his own every day and gradually graduating to a “bonjour madame… ca va?”.

i’d tell you stories of living in a beautiful house that held the passion and respect for days gone by and probably held a thousand and one stories of its own. but also of a beautiful house that wouldn’t be what it was today if it wasn’t for the beautiful souls that brought it back to life. la madone. la madone.

i’d tell you stories of having a car break down in the midsts of the luberon mountains and a quiet country road somewhere between bonnieux and menerbes. people stopping to help and then simply waiting,.counting stones. counting steps. waiting. laughing (as there really wasn’t much else left to do at that given point and moment…). having the woman that lived down the road bring me a cup of coffee. remembering to turn my face into the sun and just smile about it all. trying in my broken french to say thank you again, but help really is on its way (and then having occassional moments of wondering, if it really is… after about the third hour). and about just having the time to think of so many things. and promise to start going back to yoga once i am back home again too. but then, help did finally come with the tow truck. and thankfully, the tow truck wasn’t needed after all. the mechanic was determined it really was just the battery, after all… i’m a woman and i was on the phone and surely i let the car idle with music while i was talking? non? i refuse to answer that question. however, the first two attempts with the battery didn’t seem to be the answer. but then with a thump and a twack and literally a kick in the ass, it was the battery after all.

to be continued…

(i need to be up early tomorrow morning… on my way to munich.

and another story I have to share.)

seven more sleeps...

"Your greatest self has been waiting your whole life.
Don't make it wait any longer."
- Steve Maraboli -

an older photograph.
once. taken.
but a photograph, that will always mean a lot.

seven more sleeps.

and then i’m finally away. on my holiday.

france. the provence.

and i like to think i can feel it. taste it. smell it.

already.


and tonight is the first night

that i realised, i don’t hear the crickets outside anymore.


maybe they already left last night,

or maybe the night before.

all i know is that suddenly i’m aware of the quiet i hear.

the change. of coming. and of going.

cycles and circles. these motions in constant flow.

and as much as there’s a gentle inner warmth of an autumn evening,

there’s that nostalgic sentiment of time that’s let itself be carried on.


there’s been much going on the past days. even the past weeks.

and again, i’ve wanted to write and share all those things here.

of the good things. of little wonders as i like to call them.

and of subtle moments that maybe don’t have much relevance.

but if you hold those moments, or the reflections of them

in your hand,

you see things in a different light.

and suddenly there is a relevance.

understandings. or simply pieces that fall into place.

and as always,

it’s the simple things, those subtle things

that usually have more strength or power

than we can possibly imagine ourselves.

desiderata. yes. desiderata.

and those little things

are like the pebbles and stones we cast into a pond,

playfully rippling their echoes.

and knowingly or not,

changing things.

somedays I feel like i’ve been casting pebbles.

and somedays i feel like i’ve been the pebble cast.

but most of these days,

i feel like i’m simply in the magical ripple and echoe of it all.


last night I went to ute dahmen’s reading of her book

aenne burda. wunder sind machbar.

a biography on the life of an amazing, an interesting

and a unique woman. a powerful woman.

the title of the book is based on one of aenne’s quotes.

“Ich werde zeigen, dass Wunder machbar sind”

which means,

“I will show, that wonders can be made“

and that’s what i like about that thought.

not waiting for wonders to simply happen themselves,

or “wondering” why they are or aren’t happening.

but rather making the wonders happen.

and maybe what she also meant in between those lines,

is in simply being the wonder yourself.


and i believe, the book just might be one of the books

that i’m taking along with me on my holiday.

although I have to also admit,

there are a few books that are piling themselves up

waiting and wanting to be read.


and that leaves me wondering,

what are the books that are lying on your bedside table?

or on your kitchen table and your living room floor?


i like it when books don’t always dutifully oblige

to simply being orderly kept on their shelves.

i have my books here and there and everywhere in the house.

yes. on shelves and in shelves.

but also on the floor. or on the window sill.

sometimes it’s almost as though I create places for my books,

as though to make them feel at home.

or an invitation of waiting and wanting to be discovered.

it’s as though books need open spaces. they need to breath.

to become a part of what’s surrounds us.

and sometimes I like to think that books also speak stories

aside from those written within and along their pages.


i like finding books at flea markets.

books i simply instinctively stumble upon.

sometimes it’s the cover of the book that lures and lulls me

(although it’s been said again and again,

never to judge a book by its cover…)

and sometimes yes, it’s simply the instinct.

and you open it up and read a line on an unknown page,

finding a sense of curiousity. or a familiarity.

and of all the pages,

that’s the one you turned to. that’s the one you found.

and usually it’s a lovely surprise.

it simply fits. it simply belongs.

one line in the middle of a story. and yet it’s complete.


and whenever i travel, there’s almost always a book

that travels back home with me too.

even if in a language i don’t speak nor understand,

but there’s almost always a book.

something, that simply lured me. and lulled me.


new books. old books. sometimes forgotten books.

and that reminds me of a thought I wrote a while ago.



on a scrap piece of paper that i slipped

into my own handwritten book.

i’ll have to see if i can find those words again.

maybe. later.


but for now,

i’m simply going to slip outside

my blanket, a glass of wine. and maybe a cigarette.

because peaking a glance out the window,

it looks like there’s a beautiful autumn sky

and a glorious heaven of stars.


tonight is the first night

that i realised, i don’t hear the crickets outside anymore.


and so maybe tonight is just the right night

in this different kind of quiet,

to say hello. and to say good bye.

to the change. of coming. and of going.

cycles and circles.

these motions in constant flow.

explore. dream. discover.

"Throw off the bowlines.

Sail away from the safe harbor.

Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover."

Mark Twain.

la provence.

it's been a while now since i've been promising that to myself.

just a bit of time away

to explore. dream. discover.

and today, i simply said yes.

on the 30th of september

me, myself and i

are going to pack our bags and pack the car

and take a little long drive.

an autumn drive.

and find our way here.

la madone.

the beautiful la madone


simply time away

to read. to write. to day dream.

to play with the camera again.

to wander. and to wonder.

to take lazy afternoon naps

or to walk along the sea.

maze myself thru vineyards

and tempt myself in markets.

with antiques or simply delicious delights

to taste with the autumn evening wine.


but mostly,

just to take deep and passionate breaths of life again.


there's a wonderful phrase in german

die seele baumeln lassen...

is to let the soul sway.


and that's just what i'm going to do.


time away. alone.

and smiling at strangers

and smiling at life.


and all the apartments at la madone are a treasure,

but it was the renaissance that i really fell in love with.


sometimes,

we simply have to say yes.

and sometimes,

we simply have to be good to ourselves.


la provence.

it's been a while now since i've been promising that to myself.

just a bit of time away

to explore. dream. discover.

photos from la madone.

Desiderata...

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham,drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

"Desiderata"

- Max Ehrmann -

Desiderata...

it's always been a poem... and a companion.

of words that i always carefully and fondly embrace...

words that need reminding. of words that need remembering.

words that need the here. and the now.

and yes.

words we need to carry along on the way.



i'm enjoying the quiet of the summer night.

the winding down, the coming down

of a long day. and a good day.


there's a soft breeze fluttering thru the window.

and i can still hear the crickets outside...

and oh how i love that sound.

it's like a soft lullaby of a summer's night.

and i have to admit,

i'm always a bit sad when suddenly a night comes,

and you realise they've gone. away.

and there's simply a different sense of quiet

that cradles itself around you.

that's the day, when you know

summer has passed...

and there's a change in the air.

things move. and they move on.


yes,

the world is unfolding. just as it should.


tonight,

i had a wonderful lady here from the local newspaper.

i guess you could say it was for an interview

i had no idea what to expect and needless to say,

i think i was a bit nervous too.

what if i say the wrong things...

or what if i fall and stumble all over my thoughts and words.

yes. i tend to be a bit clutsy at times.


but the only thing i could keep reminding myself of,

was simply be yourself.

take a deep breath... and simply be yourself.

after all, isn't that the one thing that we're all best at being?


anyhow,

it's late. and it's night.

and the soft ssummer evening's breeze has become a fall of rain.

a luscious luscious summer rain.

and i'm going to slip outside, under the veranda

and under a blanket

and simply wrap the day around me...

to let it all unfold.

desiderata...

playing games...

shadow games...

while waiting at train stations

with the little detours in life.

susanne. et moi.

being playfully silly.

once a little while ago.

saturday morning... coffee in hand.

And above all watch,

with glittering eyes the whole world around you

because the greatest secrets

are always hidden in the most unlikely places.

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

- Roald Dahl -

good morning...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.


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

random thoughts. of this and that and this again.


i've wanted to write about gaylene.

and about secret garden parties.

i've wanted to write about wonderfully lazy sundays

swimming in the quarry, sleeping in the sun.

i've wanted to write about magical summer nights

and the lovely cécile

and about purgings. sifting thru the little things.

making room for the bigger things.

and sometimes we go thru purgings of the mind

and the heart

and not just dresser drawers.


and i still never told my story of paris

at the feet of lions and the wedding ring.


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


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

or simply write about other precious moments as they come along

and come to life.


in a sweet way,

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


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

and the wonder of wondering.

because its the surprise of the unexpected,

the good unexpected moments

that i love best.


open arms. open eyes. and an open heart.

ready to simply embrace

life. and love.


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

a wonderful friend that i can embrace tomorrow night.

and that too leaves a smile on my face!


anyhow...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.

sir nicholas henderson...

Sir Nicholas Henderson

1 April 1919 – 16 March 2009

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

His throwaway manner disguised a rapier-sharp mind.

He was a Scarlet Pimpernel among ambassadors,

a romantic hero with an extraordinary quality of coolness.

Nothing ruffled his good-humoured urbanity,

his glamorous, deeply English style."

The Guardian

photograph taken on an august day.

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

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

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


and that was my moment

of having met

sir nicholas henderson.


over the years,

this is a photograph that i have treasured

that always brought a quiet smile upon my face.

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

i found myself remembering.

and seeing that moment. being in that moment

once again.


we were sitting in the café rouge. knightsbridge.

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

after a weekend together for one of our

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


and there was such an energy in the place,

the energy of all the people and all the strangers.

and it was a good energy.

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

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

and in that sense,

to listen

with eyes. and with heart.

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

but to what you feel.


and i needed to capture a few of these moments,

these listenings and these feelings.

i needed to. and i wanted to.


and that's when this man walked in

and took place just a few tables away.

an older man. a gentleman.

he had such a grace about him. an elegance.

something so striking and so intriguing.

there was something friendly. and sincere.

something genuine.

his presence was something gentle.

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

there was something boyish about him. almost playful.

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

and so many stories he could share.

and i had this longing to listen.

to be taken on a little journey with the stories.


there are times i can be timid with the camera.

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

that doesn't belong to me.

respect. boundaries.


but on this particular day,

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

or simply something you emanate. radiate.

and the world opens its doors to you.

it opens its eyes to you.

and its heart.


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

i know i had a smile on my face.,

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

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


and that's when i realised,

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

he allowed me into his moment.

and he had a smile on his face too.


i felt i had to speak with him,

simply to let him know,

that this wasn't just a photograph taken

for the sake of a photograph,

but rather because i was captivated,

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

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


he smiled at me again,

shook my hand and said he was fascinated as well.

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

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

and that what surrounds me,

with a sensitivity and an awareness.

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

and then he said,

"hello. my name is nicholas."


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

i went back to the table to get my purse

and pulled out a book.

i always have a book.

to simply write thoughts. write moments.

to write little manifestations throughout the day.

and then he wrote down his name. his address.

and he smiled again and said

"i look forward to seeing that photograph."


at that moment, i only took a quick glance

at the letters and the words he had written.

i thanked him and wished him a wonderful day.


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

sir nicholas henderson.

that was his name.


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

and of course i had to google.

oh for the love of google.


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


as a child growing up,

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

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

she taught me about honesty. integrity.

and awoke an interest in politics.

i think it was in grade two

that i fell in love with pierre elliot trudeau.

and to this day,

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

literally liberating politicians there ever was.

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

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

and although i was in grade six

when the falkland islands crisis came to be,

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

it made me question more about politics, about relations.

and i remember going back to mrs. moritz

and holding conversations.

wanting to learn. wanting to understand.

pretty heavy when you're in grade six

and everything else that really mattered those days,

was who was the most favourite girl in the class

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

or falling in love with simon le bon.

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

or reading judy blume books.

does anyone remember "ralph"?

and then there was the falkland islands.

and to this day,

i base many of my own personal thoughts and theories

of a very strange british and american political relationship

and what i consider,

apparent silent vows to back then.

yes. rewind time. 1982. the falkland islands.


and that's when i realised,

i knew the name.

sir nicholas henderson.

he built relations. and he built ships.

and then he built bridges.

relationship bridges.


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

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

and tonight for some reason,

i had to pull it out of a box

and out of a frame.


and then i suddenly had a regret.

because i never sent that photograph after all.


so maybe what i want to say,

is thank you for that smile.

and thank you for that moment.

simply because...


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

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


but they make a difference

and they become a part of your life.

and the stories you write in your life.

and the stories you share in your life.

sir nicholas henderson.