Monthly Archives: October 2014

They will always be back

About a week and a half ago I went to buy flowers and found this plaque at the florist’s nearby:


I laughed out loud and realized how transformational this clever combination of phrases is.

I bought this plaque immediately. I had to have it! To make me smile, but also to remind me of the tricks my mind often plays on me.

When I experience transformation and a worry or an upset resolves, I think: “This is it, I’ve made it! This worry will not come back anymore! I am soooo good!” And so on and so on.

And then five minutes later, usually less, the worrying thought comes back. Often from another and much unexpected angle.

This used to irritate me. But awareness, transformation and many illustrations by Ariel and Shya Kane in their books, seminars and online ( ) helped me to realize that these thoughts are mere pre-recordings from my past life and will always appear when something unexpected is happening.

Life always comes in unexpected ways. So I might as well expect these thoughts appear again and again. They will appear in one form or another. And searching a reason for their appearance will not solve the problems I imagine and associate with them, however my brain will try to convince me otherwise.

This plaque is a true gift, because every time I looked at it during the ten days or so since I have it, it never failed to make me laugh and relax.

I send grateful thoughts to its creator. And hugs and love to all who read this.

A lovely day

Today was one of those days full of “all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private life depends” (A quote from “Emma” by Jane Austen, which I found quoted in the book “101 Things You Didn’t Know About Jane Austen” by Patrice Hannon).

One of the possible reasons for this wonderful day was surely because it was illuminated by one big happy event. My son’s birthday. I have a big and very proud boy of four years. As the card, which he got from my mother today says, he “can do now all those things, which [he] could not do when [he] was three years old”. This makes him immensely happy and proud. He confirmed this by a happy sigh today and saying: “Oh, I am so happy!”

This happy event of my son’s birthday led to many sweet calls and greetings from our family and friends, from Germany, Denmark and even France.

And of course a big party in the kindergarten. On our way from downtown, where we celebrated his day in his favourite restaurant, home, Niklas sang to us songs his friends sang to him in the kindergarten including all the “Hurray!” exclamations interpreted by him with much enthusiasm, as well as a song he sang as a thank-you answer to them. He even translated those songs for us by singing them in German. I suspect, with a smile on my face, that he composed at least parts of those songs as he sang them to us.

Picture: all the small things and special attentions surrounding this special day made us, his parents, extremely happy and proud. This colourful greeting met Niklas and us today on the kindergarten’s entrance door.


Two strangers, two smiles, two unforgettable memories

Algiers Airport,

Summer 1981

One bench. Many people. Among them two mothers and two girls. Mothers speak different languages. Each girl can understand the language of her own mother. Not of the other.

One girl is me. The other is blond with big blue eyes.

She looks at me. She shrugs. And smiles.

I smile back.

She shows me what she has in her hands. It’s a small toy.

I look down at my hands and see small unused stickers of animals with moving eyes. I show them to her.

We exchange the objects in our hands. We examine them and make playful movements with them. We exchange glances. We smile.

An announcement. My mother stands up and gathers our bags.

Another announcement. My friend’s mother stands up and gathers their bags.

The blue-eyed girl and I give back our toys to each other.

We smile. We wave. We go away.

I still remember you and your smile, my dear friend of several minutes.

Copenhagen Airport,

Spring 2009

I walk through the busy hall. Small, colorful shops at my left. I pass a stall with soft drinks and snacks at my right.

Someone looks at me.

I raise my head and see a woman with dark long hair in red sari.

A friend or a relative of hers in green sari is busy searching for money in her bag.

The woman in red looks at me. And smiles.

I am confused. I feel my forehead unfolding and corners of my mouth widen into a smile.

I walk by. Still smiling.

The woman in red sari accompanies me the whole day. I see her eyes and her smile, every time she appears in my thoughts.

She still appears time to time in most unexpected moments. And then I smile.


Two strangers. Two smiles. Two unforgettable memories. They warm my heart through the years. Every time they appear. And they always appear when my smile makes other people smile.

Picture: My sweet little stranger I discover every day. “Mama, make a picture of me, when I look the other way.”


Imprints in the heart: Collecting and relieving moments

“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process
is the bravest thing that we will ever do.”
From the book
“The Gifts of Imperfection:
Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and
Embrace Who You Are”
by Brené Brown, Ph.D., L.M.S.W.

Yesterday I came from a wonderful weekend I spent in Hamburg. I attended two seminars led by Ariel and Shya Kane: “Freedom to Breathe” and “Living a Complaint Free, Drama Free Life”. Both seminars provided many unforgettable experiences.

I noticed my eagerness to share all the wonderful insights I had both during the seminars and also after with my family and friends. I did share some of my experiences, but this sharing started to look more like sharing vacation photographs. I was talking about the past. Close one but past nonetheless.

Thinking of photographs, I recall what one of my dearest friends, who happens to be my mother-in-law, once told me. Both of us and also our husbands were standing on one of the heights of German Alps. All of us were admiring the amazing view. I made some pictures and complained that I would love to take a picture of every detail, but that it was impossible.

I thought my Mom-in-law would suggest using panorama-setting on my photo camera of that time.

Instead she said,

“You can’t take pictures of everything. Enjoy them and keep them here.”

As she said this, she has put her hand on the spot, under which my heart can be found.

This occurrence often comes to mind. The latest today, when I was sorting out some of my notebooks, time planners and calendars from previous years. At least two of them have wonderful pictures and reproductions of paintings on every page. I started looking at every page, seeing if it contained a note or a quote worth keeping. As I looked through the pictures I could not enjoy them fully, because I was sorry for not being able to keep all of them. If I would, they would lie hidden in some drawers or boxes for more years until I completely discarded them, without looking at them again.

As soon as I noticed this complaint and recalled what my mother-in-law advised me, I started looking at the pictures with the only purpose to enjoy them. And suddenly the heaviness of regret disappeared and I simply let the pleasant imprints settle in my heart. From here it was easy to put the already viewed pictures away and move further.

One thought led to another and I realized that the same is with pleasant memories. If we try to keep them and hold on to them by telling about them again and again to all who want and don’t want to listen, then this will not be different than showing holiday photographs repeatedly to visiting relatives and friends. We can’t keep all the insights imprinted in our memories. Even recording them down would not enable a true reproduction of the wonderful experiences we had. But we can collect these wonderful imprints in our hearts, enjoy them and let go.

Picture: Wonderful view from the hotel room I had while in Hamburg. I don’t remember the things I thought, which prompted me to take this picture. I only remember that they were pleasant and inspiring with a tiny hint of sadness, which I could not explain. Maybe I was sad about the near end of the weekend and the seminars. Maybe I was sad of not being able to hold on to each experienced moment, to each pleasant one. I don’t know. The only thing I know now is that this sadness was sweet and soothing. I smile while writing this.