Category Archives: Traveling

I loved seeing you naked…

It was a great sight, it really was. Naked people tend to be truly fascinating. Somewhat difficult to take your eyes off somehow. I mean the ones that show up literally on your doorstep with no clothes on are just…such nice surprises, don’t you think? Like Christmas…with a naughty twist…

I’m sitting next to the Thames, on a park bench, in the dark, writing. The lights are shining beautifully on Westminster and couples on other benches are curled up, talking to one another. I am waiting for a friend to meet me across the bridge at Gordon’s – the coziest wine bar I have ever seen. I just finished a salsa class and I have spent all day meeting people for coffees. It’s beautiful isn’t it? That people actually show up to see you. That they care so much to enjoy your company that they go out of their way to meet you. Sometimes to help you, other times to get helped by you, but often just to listen to your words, see your smile and get a hug.

The wind is playing gently with my hair, couples are walking by, giggling. A group of tourists is taking photos of Big Ben. The fall is slowly moving in. There’s beauty everywhere. In New York, London, LA, Paris…the Swedish countryside. All the places I love. There’s also beauty in all the things I do that I love. Like dancing – letting my body move with the music. Allowing someone else to twirl me around and being allowed by them to dance with them.

Wherever I am there will be beauty and there will be dancing. There will be lovely people to meet, to share moments with, to laugh and cry with…to hold each others’ hands in the dance of life. There’s love everywhere and when you open your eyes to it, your life will be so magical. None of us will be spared of the pain of childbirth or the pain of heartache, no one will go through life not losing something or someone. Life is transitory. When you have love though; when you are surrounded by people that amaze you with their beauty and warm you with their hearts, when you give love to others and when you do what you love doing, then you are leading an astonishing life.

Wherever I am there are people I cannot be with at that instant in time. I cannot hug them in physical form, but I will bring them with me in my heart as the treasure that they are, as the joy and light that they have brought me and continue to bring. What is so incredible is that even though my heart is filled with love, it can never be filled up with people – there’s always space for more. For more meetings, more friends, more laughter, more hugs and cuddles.

We may all live separate lives, but we all share this life also. This experience is ours, not alone, but together. We are in each other’s lives.

One of the things this summer taught me is that to open your heart and listen, really experience a person with all your senses, is the best gift you can offer. To see them, feel them and hear them as they are, in all their nakedness. To acknowledge the journey they are on. And when they do the same for you; when they let you into their heart for real – when they see you standing naked in front of them…you are blessed. You are blessed to be seen, to be felt, experienced. You live experiencing things, but to be experienced by another person…that is also an experience and it’s a very beautiful one. Very beautiful.

If there is someone out there whom you love, tell them. If there is someone you have not forgiven, forgive them. If there is someone you would like to get to know, ask them. If there is someone who makes your heart tremble, smile at them. Show them your naked heart. You don’t have to do much more. You just have to show up.

To all the people that have made this summer such an incredible experience, from the people I worked with, to the people I spent hours talking to, to the people that just showed up once or twice – I salute you. Thank you so much for making my experience on this planet that much more amazing.

And to all the people out there whom I will never meet, or whom I am yet to meet – know that every smile you give, every hug you share, every hand you hold is an incredible gift. It truly does make life worth living.

Thank you. Namaste. Merci. Tack så mycket!

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flames by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” Albert Schweitzer

Dancing

Ok, so I love Robbie, mmmmm…but maybe this song is a tad cheezy…yet very, very true.

My view tonite.

Writing in the light of street lights…

Gordon’s…ain’t life sweet?!!!

Gordon’s…

Couldn’t buy you any…but in my mind I bought them for you…

Leave a Comment

Filed under Courage, Dancing, Inspiration, Joy, Liberty, Life, Love, Motivation, People, Personal Development, Relationship, relationships, Self-confidence, socializing, Society, Thoughts, Traveling, Truth, Uncategorized, Writing

Oh, for Fuck’s Sake!!!

I’m so bloody tired of moving cities. That’s today’s rant. My sister just left (she was over visiting me). She lives in Poland, my family lives in Sweden, my best friend lives in LA, most of my other friends live in London, some in LA and a tiny few elsewhere. My heart lives in Cali and France, my dream was always to make it in New York (I never quite recovered from being accepted to NYU and not being able to pay the fees, fuck it’s the worst heartache I’ve ever had. Ever. Of course also the best thing that never happened…as I got another path that taught me what I truly needed to know.).

I’m moving houses these days (read: dragging suitcases) as I’m only renting short-term in London, so moving south on Thursday (to the niiiiice hood, yeah baby). Going home to visit the family on Friday. Probably heading back to LA shortly, via NYC. If biz takes off I will be moving to NYC, or London in January (I may have to choose by myself…help…then again I have a feeling I know what my biz partners would like..), or staying in LA if I get a job there, else I will have to go to where the job is. It would be OK if I was moving my friends and family with me, but I’m not. It would be nicer if I had a BF in my suitcase too, but I don’t. I’m standing on my own two high heels. On the other hand I can’t imagine anyone crazy enough to keep up with my schedule and I’m rather determined when it comes to pursuing my own ventures (read: I ain’t letting those babies sink). It would also be OK if I was a millionaire with some freedom, but right now I’m dependent on other peoples’ investment for my biz (like the big one, not mine and Em’s, we are rocking this show on our own – watch us…lol) and dependent on biz being set up or getting a job in Hwood for visa. Sucks. I’m so fucking tired of the whole fucking thing.

That was today’s rant. I now feel better. I’m going to Neeeeeeew Yooooork. Screw it let’s do it. We all know I love it. Secretly. Or not so secretly…and that I chose it “…’cuz I’m a gypsy…why don’t you come with me?!??!!!”

The thing is, I’m really thrilled. Life right now…this summer has just taught me so much and made me a different person… I see life differently. I feel more comfortable in my own shoes. I feel happier. I smile more. I choose my own perspective a lot more. But I’m human. Sometimes I wish that my gorgeous adventures brought all my gorgeous peeps and some security with them in the package deal. I like having a nest. A home. Then I can travel from there. But one home….or three…please God.

Gotta dash – have to pack a suitcase and book a ticket to NYC. Have a lovely adventure…wherever your journey takes you, remember that it’s truly (no matter how many rants I have) all inside of you. You are a treasure chest. Treat the treasure within with respect. And for the love of God, don’t give your keys to Jack Sparrow or Keira Knightley…or maybe that’s exactly what you should do…

5 Comments

Filed under Courage, dreams, Motivation, Personal Development, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized

Sexual frustration…

As men know, housewives do dirty things – that’s why men refuse hiring cleaners; they’d rather have a dirty wife than a dirty cleaner (although some prefer both). That’s also why they never do their dishes – the dirtier their wife gets, the better. Women, on the other hand like gardeners, because when their husbands work late and they are left alone to their dirty deeds, they need someone to get down and dirty with them. Gardeners are their preferred choice as they use their body all day long, leaving them looking like Greek gods. Of course, if their husbands do the gardening and don’t spend all day with their secretary, it’s all that much better because they actually get the man they want, as they want him – half-naked and dirty.

Is it just me, or has the world gone a tad boring? I don’t know about you, but I always hoped to meet a guy that would totally sweep me off my feet and by that I don’t mean just his gorgeous personality and the fact that he would bare his soul to me, no I mean a guy with a bit of gumption; someone who wasn’t scared live life with spice. Someone who dragged me on an amazing adventure. A man who thought strawberries and cream would be a better gift than diamonds (diamonds do not please you in bed, do not make you laugh, do not talk to you, do not…do anything much at all but sparkle). A man who would play instead of impress…a man who was grounded in himself and believed in himself, a man who wasn’t scared of living life to the full. Instead, all guys are like: let’s go to the movies. Let’s eat at a fancy restaurant. Isn’t it just so boring? To sit there and watch a movie (I can really feel how we connect as we sit there), or sit in a restaurant feeling stiff and awkward as you have to be all nice and polite (compared to sex on the beach, I mean, hello??!!!???). Of course there is a time for movies and restaurants to, but for some that’s all there is.

I get so bored with men that show you their business card. Yes, it’s all well that you are this that and the other, but what about you? What about the passion in your soul? What about playing together? What about just laughing together? At the same time, of course, I know that I do the same. I’m not the free flying bird that I want to be. I’m not the barefoot dancer that sneak him into my studio in the basement and do some dirty dancing. I’m not the woman I dreamt of being, so instead I show him my smarts, my moves…my business card. Basically any proof that I am doing well, that I am socially acceptable, and not that I’m petrified of everything from disease to poverty, not to mention heart ache, or how good I am in bed.

As a kid I dreamt that when I grew up I’d be a warm person – I’d embrace life and people. I’d dance barefoot in the sunshine, I’d go on crazy journeys and I’d play. Playfulness was the name of the game. Then I got worried about money. I got scared of people’s’ opinions. So I became…boring; shy, scared, inhibited. A worried soul who wanted to become successful in life instead of successful at living….I got a business card. I still went on a lot of crazy adventures, but I was never truly having fun, because all along I just kept questioning how successful I was at everything – was I a good enough, friend, was I outgoing enough, was I smart enough, would I ever make enough money?

I think I have waited for years – I have waited and waited. I have waited for the guy that would turn me back into me; who would open my soul and make me dance again. I have waited for my jester, my adventurer, my dancer, my sailor…the guy that was going to ground me and make me live instead of worry. The weather worn man. The real man. The man who had muscles instead of shares. The man who lived instead of talked about the Dow Jones. The guy that didn’t give a damn about Prada. Given the fact that Ricky Martin is gay and probably cares about Prada, I don’t think there’s much hope left for someone to throw off my stilettos and make me dance barefoot.

Mr Warm And Grounded is not going to show up. It’s not a man who’s going to unlock me. It’s me. I alone have the key to my heart, or well, I’m afraid I’ve handed out a few keys, but not to that section. It’s the section I was hoping someone else would open with force. Break it open and allow the life force to properly flow through me again and make me dance and not just dream of dancing. The man that was going to make me feel alive again. The man that didn’t ask permission, but stormed in and opened my heart, because God knows I’ve been unwilling to let anyone in there and I’ve been too scared of other people’s’ opinion to be able to open it myself. So I hoped he’d break in without me having to do anything.

I’ve fallen for so many guys that really truly were forces of nature – if they weren’t trying to kill themselves in extreme sports, they were trying to kill their competitors in the market place. The thing is though, I wasn’t usually in love with them, I was in love with their oumpf – I wanted that force for me. I wanted the strength to break free from my own imprisonment – preferably I wanted them to liberate me so that I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted for someone to see me for who I truly am and help me reclaim that person. I wanted for them to put me on center stage so I didn’t have to do it myself, because what would people think if I just claimed the stage? That I was conceited? Ego? And even worse – what if they didn’t like me? I didn’t want to claim the stage – I wanted to be welcomed onto it. It’s not going to happen though – first you ahve to perform, then you may be welcomed back onto the stage.

I’m not sure I can express this fully in words, because in words I am living – I can write the sexiest, funniest and most outrageous stories – stories filled with magic and wonder – but in real life I can sit quiet in the corner of a room. I’m shy folks. I’m scared of people’s’ opinions. I live more in my writing than I do in real life. I am who I write I am, but that’s not who I show people I am. It’s very easy to charge someone by in sexy stilettos looking cool; it’s very hard to be completely open with someone in bed – better to play it safe. Just like I play it safe in everything that I do. I hide behind the curtain instead of claiming the stage. I live in my head instead of in all of me. And it makes me miserable and angry with everyone else who dares to live more.

It makes me feel like I’m a prisoner, but the one holding me imprisoned is myself. It’s my own fear – it’s the fear I got when my mom died, when the bullies appeared, when family life went bananas. It’s the fear that I’m not good enough, I’m bad, I’m a burden on everyone, I’m shameful…so I better just hide. God knows I’ve pulled stunts to try to gain love; to gain love, instead of being loved for who I am, because I am scared nobody will love that person. That’s why I want to become successful in life, so that people can love my success. The only person I know loves me for real is my best friend – she knows me just the way I am, but she also knows this battle that I’m fighting with myself every single day of my life: shy (i.e. ashamed of myself, thinking others will put me down, usually covered up by some too cool for school attitude) v.s. warm, open and as crazy as can be.

There was a time when I thought if I’d dye my hair red and wear outrageous clothes I’d live a bit more (i.e. I’d show the world I didn’t give a damn, so that would set me free), so I did. Then I thought if I was an Actress I’d live a bit more (because I could live everything out on-screen that I didn’t dare live out in real life), so I became an Actress. Then I thought if I became a Director I’d live a bit more (because in my movies I could create exactly the life I’d like to lead), so I became a Director. Then I thought if I could create my own companies I’d live a bit more (because they’d be where I could be as creative as I could be and it’d actually be real and not just a movie, so I could live my dreams for real), so I set out to do that. Then I thought if I started a blog I’d live a bit more (because at least I’d share with people what was really going on in my mind), so I did. I guess all of these things, one way or another, helped me become me a little bit more, but I’m still damn frustrated people, because it’s a matter of being able to live every moment instead of thinking about living – you cannot live through your clothes, your acting, your directing, your companies, or your blog. It’s about daring to be who I am without thinking about other people’s’ opinions, every second of every day. It’s about living without fear of dying, of poverty, of misfortune, of heartache. It’s about daring to do exactly what comes into my mind without questioning it with fear and if it goes tits up – well just not give a damn. It’s about screaming for attention instead of hiding in a corner (I always hated those people who have to go first and scream the loudest…only because I was too scared to drag attention to myself by doing so, but I WANTED the attention…only of course, some people want too much attention and need it to feel loved and that gets a bit iffy). It’s the difference between a sexual fantasy and real sex – in the fantasy you do it all and in bed you do nothing, but you should be living your fantasy and you should dare to do it, not with the gardener, but with the one you truly love – the one whose opinion matters more than anything to you.

I don’t need a sailor, or a dancer, or an adventurer, or even a jester, because they are all in me. That’s who I want to be. I just want a guy who loves me just the way I am. Then it’s up to me to set myself free. To become the sailor, the dancer, the adventurer and the jester. To really live life. To be as happy as I am when I’m dancing, because I feel that for once I’m in my body instead of in my mind. To be successful at living.

Now as the wind is blowing outside, I will pray that I get to gain some of Mother Nature’s force (getting grounded with nature here: the witch and the Shaman is coming out…) and reclaim my own freedom and make those dirty fantasies reality…I mean the ones about life you know…not the ones about the gardener and the dishes…

“Wherever you are, be there totally. If you find your here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally” – Eckhart Tolle – Power of Now

13 Comments

Filed under Blogging, Courage, dreams, Humor, Inspiration, Jesters, Joy, Liberty, Life, Love, Men, Motivation, People, Personal Development, Relationship, relationships, Self-confidence, sex, socializing, Society, Theater, Thoughts, Traveling, Truth, Uncategorized, Women, Writing

Journeys into the unknown…

As you may know by now journeys are to me a way of living – they rejuvenate me, they make me smile, they…they are where I feel at home. As soon as I get stagnant in a place, I, too, get stagnant. Of course, I would like a base though and for now I’d like that base to be Los Angeles, because I do love this town. I was just an hour ago walking home with my best friends (last night with the gang) and the hills were covered in fog (June gloom), the lights up there still penetrating the darkness and glittering in an orangy, homey kinda way. The palm trees looked duller than normal in the fog, whereas trees that were lit up looked mystical and more noticeable than ever. Everywhere you go there are flowers in LA – bright pink and purple seem to be around a lot. It’s a beautiful place. Nothing like cobble stone streets in Paris, but naturally beautiful. They say that your home is where your heart is and mine’s between La France and LA.

As I stood packing just now, I was looking through a bunch of necklaces and I wondered what memories would be attached to them by the end of the trip? What events will be associated with a certain necklace, or a certain bikini…I mean, dress? Then I went to check my computer and realized that tmrw. night I’ll be having dinner in Chelsea as a friend has put me down for that. It’s quite normal when you live in London of course, but when I was acting a chick from Chelsea a few weeks back I would never have guessed that I was going there this summer!

It’s fascinating how we know so little about what tomorrow will bring! When vacating I guess the sensation grows as you actually think of tomorrow as a complete unknown (well almost), rather than a routine with potential interruptions. Of course some days really shake us up, even when we are living our routine life and expect another day like the rest. I guess I was just never one for wanting another day like the rest in that many aspects, but then again, I live a pretty habitual life for most of it, I just never saw myself in a nine to five. You know what’s so great about movies? You get to live like a gypsy.

I think sometimes we get so caught up in our own patterns that we forget to ask ourselves what could be possible? I may be one for the road, but that too is a pattern and sometimes, because of how I use it, a curse. It is strange to start questioning the way one lives, because one takes it for granted (so what’s there to question?) but sometimes it opens doors that lead to fabulous paths. That’s when one realizes that one has lived in the gutter all one’s life without even stopping to look up at the stars. Once we see the stars we are bound to move toward them, but before we know of them, we are content to keep living as we always have.

Today I was complimented for my nose. Now that’s a first. Apparently I have one of the top five noses this guy has ever seen. He said it reminded him of a cloudy day in Scotland and that’s the one place he really wants to visit. He got green with envy when I said I’d been several time. I love Scotland, I just disagree with the weather. Anyway, point being: my nose. Who could have ever imagined? Rainy day in Scotland (and he actually pulled off making it sound poetic too!!)?

There is a man who was fabulous with metaphors, his name was Milton Erickson. He was a most remarkable fellow. To illustrate what I was just talking about, I’d like to use one of his teaching tales from the book The Teaching Tales of Milton H. Erickson (as much as I remember of it – I just lent the book to a friend).

Erickson asks one of his students what the possible ways to get from the chair they are standing by to a chair in the other end of the classroom? His student tells him that he could walk, jump, jump on one leg, crawl, hop from chair to chair, walk on his hands, do cartwheels… Erickson replies that he, personally, would walk out that door over there, take a flight round the world, do a couple of extraordinary things, and walk in the other door and walk over to the chair.

Why expect the ordinary when you could be expecting the extraordinary? And why not take time to sip the dew of life, whilst you can? There’s an adventure in every drop!


Beautiful LA, beautiful Cali camping trip, Hello London and Virgin forever…I mean, you gotta see each day as a Virgin opportunity!!! (Did I just come up with a slogan for Virgin? Someone call Branson and let him know he should know me!!)

8 Comments

Filed under Inspiration, Joy, Liberty, Life, Love, Motivation, Personal Development, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized

Do you know me?…

I have known my best friend for 13 years and through the years we have shared a gazillion adventures – we are both rather inventive and end up in situations thereafter. At times she knows me better than I know myself (read: she sees my blind spots and warns me about the stupid mistakes I’m about to make – usually what guys not to date).

Now, the thing is, I know her too – I know the stories she loves, the stories she hates and the stories she loves to have on the repetoire when we meet new people. So when we are hanging out with people, depending on what stories she’s telling them I know what she thinks about them – I know if she’s trying to entertain them, avoid them, or get close to them. If there are men around that she thinks are nice for me, she will work like my best ever promoter – if the guy is great at something, or have a passion, she will invariably sneak into the discussion somehow, how great I am at the same thing, or how much I like it. Next, she will brag about all my skills – usually directing and writing. If she starts talking about what a great dancer, or masseuse I am, she is really trying to sell me (the best one I have heard so far was Christmas time last year: “So she was standing in the kitchen yesterday, wearing high heeled slippers and a mini-skirt, doing a Marily Monroe dance to Santa Baby and baking delicious gingerbread cakes…” Never mind that I probably frightened the neighbors to death.). The other day she mentioned not once, but three times that I was swimming naked when we were camping in the mountains in Europe. When we came home I was like: “So, you really hoped this guy would take a fancy to me, didn’t you?” “What? Why?” (I am totally innocent, giggle, giggle.) Needless to say, she tries this with any guy she thinks is sweet and has a good heart, bless her.

Her mom, on the other hand, if she likes one of our friends or lovers will tell “cute” stories from our teenage years. Like how we had heard that using a rolling pin on your bum and legs would remove cellulite and decided to try this out (aged fourteen or fifteen…clearly in need of these remedies…not). Apparently I was yelling (from the basement) “It hurts, stop, stop, I’m not that fat!” (For the record – the rolling pin does break up tissue, so, uh, it’s actually good for you…ahem..) Then comes the story of the time I went missing in the woods with a guy (we got lost during a thunderstorm) and she was fretting about what to tell my dad “Uh, your fifteen year old daughter has disappeared in the woods with a guy and by the way, there’s a thunderstorm.” Her mother, for that matter, has never stopped honking at cute guys when we are in her car…she is not as smooth as her daughter – if there is a cute guy around he is sure to pay attention to either me or my friend – by force if nothing else…

Luckily, none of them usually tell guys the story of the time we were the opening act for a dance show – we had to pretend to be circus workers setting up this tent and, consequently, our golden dance costumes had to be hidden underneath coats. To achieve this I tucked my golden little skirt into my knickers, so that nothing would stick out. After setting up the tent we had to toss our coats off and do our dance…and…I danced with my skirt tucked in my knickers… Nor do they tell the story of when I was naked in a changing room and ten guys charged in. Nor do I. It’s a secret. Schyyyyssss….

Leave a Comment

Filed under Humor, Joy, Life, Men, People, Story, Thoughts, Traveling, Women

The girl and the ocean…

The morning sun was stretching its first rays up into the air and it created a streak of orange by the line of the horizon. It was a calm morning. The ship was moving slowly and the young man felt a twinge of impatience, at the same time as he knew it was ridiculous – you can’t change the pace of a ship.

The young man was acutely aware of the power of the sea, the winds and everything else which his world evolved around. It was not he that was in control, all he could do was to learn to cope within what was there. If he was in charge of the winds, they’d always blow in the direction in which he was going. If he was in charge of the clouds, they would only be there when the sun was too hot to muster. He wasn’t in charge though, and he knew it. He knew it because he had spent enough time at sea to know. He had been shown the powers of nature time and time again. The more he saw, the more in awe he became of nature, yet, the more he learnt to play within her games. When a storm broke loose, he would look up into the skies and ask what he needed to learn from this one, or if it was just a joke she was playing on them all. A tease. Something to make them work for their ride. They had, after all, been given her planet to play upon. If it could be called playing.

As they would reach harbor today the hull would be washed; everything polished to look nice, including themselves. They had been gone for twelve full moons. It was a long time.

The sun was slowly climbing its way up the sky and the warm rays caressed his face, making him feel relaxed. He needed to sleep. He had been on duty the last five hours. It had been a calm night, nothing much had happened, but he was still getting tired now. He wish he could sleep outside in the sun, but he knew he would have to go downstairs. He yawned.

The ship was his home. Maybe more so than the old cottage in which his parents lived. The smell of salt, seaweed, tar and wood felt more familiar than earth and grass. He had been at sea for six years. It had taught him a lot and it had kept him calm. On land he always felt restless and agitated. At least he had done. Now, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to keep moving around always, but the thought of staying in just one place…what was there left to discover after some time? What colors and smells would wake him up, resurrect him? He didn’t know. He had never managed to find them before. As a kid, all that ever interested him was when the ships arrived in the harbor and he got to come down and see what they had brought with them from afar – the colors, smells and sensations of different worlds from his own. Discovery awakened him. Routines made him fall asleep. They were nice for a while. They were like resting – one could switch off, sleepwalk. After a while the body had rested enough and longed to once again discover something new. Something different.

There was one thing he didn’t want to be apart from though and that was her. She had moved to their little town when he was gone in travels. Her family came from afar. She was different; she had seen some of the world out there and she wasn’t sleepwalking like the rest. Her eyes were always open in wonder, she studied, she asked questions…

They would talk for hours. They would walk through the fields together. She would ask him questions about the nature around there, questions he, himself, who had lived there all his life, could not answer. She made him wonder about the meaning of things. About how a seed can become a plant. How some men love what others hate. Everything he had taken for granted she questioned. She was like him, but what he questioned was different.

He had always questioned why people chose to live as they did; day in and day out the same routines. Once he travelled and saw how people lived differently in different places he would question even more – why couldn’t they take the best from different places and merge it together? Would he ever find a place where he would feel like their way of living suited his dreams?

He had been used to feeling different; like no one else understood him. Until she came along. They saw the world, so differently, but they understood each other’s differences. Of course there was also the Captain of this ship. He understood him quite well too. They didn’t share the whole world though, they just sailed together. He would miss him if he stayed ashore – she had asked him when they would settle down together and he had promised that when he returned this time they would get married and he would stay. Use his savings to buy a boat and become a fisherman. The idea of seeing her every day excited him, yet the idea of staying ashore did not. He knew in his heart that he had chosen her, but part of his heart died as he thought of living in a cottage always. There’d be nothing new to see apart from when the ships arrived. She found something new in every flower; every spring she’d be amazed by the wonders of nature. As the ice melted and flowed down the mountains, the flowers burst into bloom and the animals gave birth to their little ones. She praised it all. To him, it was the same as the year before.

She was sitting in the seers room, feeling a bit nervous and ridiculous. Most people did not believe in such things as the planets ruling the minds of men in this little town. In the big city where she was from some people did. Here it was frowned upon; your fate rested entirely in the hands of God. The seer entered the room with a smile; her large red and golden robe making swishing sounds as she moved. Her brown hair was hanging loosely; the curls seemingly playing with one other. Her eyes were green like jade and emeralds. She was a stunning exotic beauty and she had a warmth about her that had a calming effect on people who were close. Even the decoration in the little room was warm – red colors and wooden furniture. She sat down, still with a smile and took her hand. ”Don’t worry, God created the planets too. This is not a crime, you are just checking out what God created for you.” “How can you know that already?” she asked, confused. The seer smiled. “You see, he left traces. Like the planets. The lines on your hands. The energy that radiates from your heart and soul. It’s like learning to read, but it’s not the alphabet you are deciphering, it’s people. You cannot predict the entire future – God gave you free will, but unless you break free, your path is written.” She felt a tad calmed down by this. It didn’t sound too bad.

The seer looked her in the eye. “You have a beautiful soul and you will travel far. Much further than you could ever imagine. You are worried right now that the man you are marrying will leave you. He will never leave you. He loves you. No matter where he is he will love you. You see, love is funny like that – you do not have to be in the same room to love someone.” She felt anxious – the idea of being away from him still hurt her. How much time did you need to spend away from loved ones? Since they met, two years ago, he had been gone for 18 months out of 24. She did not want to live like that, but she loved him. Other men made her smile, bought her roses, sang to her…he just had to look at her, but it was difficult when he wasn’t there.

The seer smiled at her anxiety. “He hasn’t forgotten you, nor never will he. You are special to him. So if the world separated you and he was forced to be apart from you forever, no matter who else he loved, he’d still love you. Such is true love. You don’t have to worry though. Your stars tell of different tales. Before I tell you what they are, I need you to understand him though.” She nodded. “You see, like you love spring…the excitement to you of the rebirth of nature, so he loves to travel. If you imagine an eternal winter, life would not be much fun. Everything around you would seem dead and it wasn’t just there to make you appreciate spring, it was there forever. Sure you would enjoy the snow, the occasional sunny day when you go skiing, tea by the fireplace, Christmas candles and spicy treats…you would love that, but you would still mourn the spring. To him traveling is like spring – it awakens him, makes him acutely aware of his surroundings, makes him alive, smiling. You see, to him you are the world, but without spring in it, he won’t be happy.” She looked at the seer in amazement. “I think I can understand that, but are you telling me he will always be traveling? That he will always be gone for more time than he will be with me? I would have to accept that, because I couldn’t leave him and I couldn’t let him live without spring.”

The seer offered her some mint tea and she accepted, still, in her mind, trying to accept the idea of being away from him so much. The seer slowly stirred her cup. “It’s nice, you accepted it. So it’s true that you love him. However, it’s not what you think. For him, the world without you is potentially even worse than a world without spring. It would be like a world without summer.” She smiled and so did the seer. “You will wander far together. Soon a party of travelers will pass through town and you will go with them. They will not mind women on their journey, in fact they will like having you there. Your gifts are valuable to them. You heal people. What you know of herbs and spices will help them. You will help them trade with teas as well. You are truly gifted you know.”

She had always loved the sea, just like him. Somehow she felt that it could tell her the truth – for hours she would stand and stare at it as a child. It had brought her him. It had taught her that she could not tame it – she could play with it – jump in its waves and splash it around, but it would forever be what it was. It was not hers, but she could enjoy it. It would take her places, but she had to be willing to go.

The young man awoke with a smile on his face – he had had a nice sleep and now he was ready to enter the harbor. He just needed to wash first.

He could not only see land now – he could smell it in the air. It had earthy undertones and some vague nuances of burning wood – fireplaces. It always excited him to reach harbor. It was for the sake of harbors that he traveled – new places and sights. This one was, however, familiar. It always looked a tad different every time he returned though, because he saw it with new eyes. Eyes that had seen more of the world. He had changed and therefore his perspective. What he longed to see today though was not the harbor, but her. He knew she was well – he could always sense if something was wrong, but today everything felt right.

She stood there. Skirts gently rustling in the wind, a smile on her face. She was beautiful. To him she looked different than any other woman around. It was as if she stood out – everyone else looked a bit blurred, out of focus, but she was crystal clear.

He was even more tanned than before. His brown locks were slightly blonder and if possible even more tousled than she could remember. His teeth, when he smiled, looked as white as stars in his tanned face and his blue-green eyes shone like emeralds with glints of turquoise. His rough hands, would soon hold hers in them – trace her lines, make her remember that she was alive. This was what she loved about him – how he made her feel more alive when he was around – he looked as if he was part of nature, rather than separate from it. He didn’t live within a house, he lived within the world. She had never liked walls, confinements; she too belonged to nature. Together they felt freer than when apart.

The sailor returned home that night, but home was merely a harbor in her heart.

In each individual there is an individual, yet we are all made from the same materials, so inside each person is a part of who we are. Our bodies are made up of the same earth. We feed off what lived here a thousand years ago. In our genes rest the beginning of man. Our lives, as Leonardo said, are made of the deaths of others. To gain you must also lose. To grow you must, therefore, give. It is only by giving that something is returned.

It seems like some people compliment us; bring out the best in us and help us see what we did not see before. We are a team. It is true that you should be able to live on your own and feel whole in you. It is equally true that to build a house you may need one person who can visualize what it will look like and another to build it. It is true that some like to lead, whilst other like to be led.

In other people we find someone who sees the world like us. From that day on, we are never alone, no matter where we are, because our minds are connected, our hearts beat like one.

In each person is a world. How they live, how they see, how they feel might be light years from our own. When they share their world, we discover a new world and ours, as a result shifts.

There is a reaction when we meet someone, but we cannot control their reaction, as little as we can control the ocean.

We love ourselves in others and others in ourselves. We love the new worlds others bring us because they compliment our own. We love and it is through love anything worthwhile is created. We sail, but it is in harbors that we belong.

Maybe I will always write stories of entertainers, sailors, healers and seers – travelers that seek truth and joy in life, whilst creating something of their own. I cannot escape myself when I write, just as little as I can escape myself when I do anything. To me those figures are beautiful, because they are my harbors in this life. They are me and I am them.


2 Comments

Filed under dreams, Inspiration, Joy, Life, Love, Men, People, poetry, Relationship, relationships, Story, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women, Writing

I’m Swedish, blonde and…in your bed???….

The standard question I get when I meet someone is “Where are you from?” After they have guessed every English speaking country in the world, I will have to confess to the fact that I am Swedish. If the person I’m talking to happens to be male and somewhere in between the ages of 18 to a 100, a smile will invariably light up his face as he repeats to himself easy to get into bed Swedish, eh?” Yes, Swedish, and not so easy to get into a parallel position, but until he figures that out, I might as well enjoy his efforts.

If you, on the other hand, want a bloke to melt for you, all you really have to do is to talk about how you celebrate the summer solstice – an ancient celebration of fertility where we make a giant dick (maypole) out of flowers that we dance around and at night eat strawberries and drink vodka (it’s one of the few pagan traditions the church did not manage to relabel. For example – in Easter the Swedish witches still fly off on broomsticks with their cats to dance with the devil and en route they hand out candy to children, but somehow we are also celebrating the resurrection of Jesus). For the sake of good luck you are then supposed to roll around naked in the morning dew the next day (never mind the fact that we pick seven flowers in silence at night to dream about whom we will marry, that would put him off…marriage should never be talked about by women. You simply wait until he is so desperate to keep other men off your ass that he decides to marry you.). After that he will believe you are the answer to all his prayers (when he discovers that you actually have a brain too, he will be singing hallelujah).

Dancing around a dick…I mean maypole…

N.B. All photos in this post were taken by me, please don’t use elsewhere without permission. Thank you!!!

Apart from our reputation of being sexually liberated, the Swedes are known for: Ingmar Bergman, Abba, Roxette, Björn Borg, herring, Ikea, H&M, Volvo, Zlatan Ibrohamovic (we went to the same school, never noticed him, but I met someone in Morocco who knew him…) and other sports people whom I don’t know of. And of course, Tiger Wood’s wife. Poor thing. Sex rehab. And he’s not even Swedish!!! (No, we do not make watches and chocolate. That’s SWITZERLAND.)

When it comes to Swedish stereotypes there is a brilliant book called The Xenophobe’s Guide To The Swedes from which I will now quote freely:

Svårmod: a dark melancholy born out of long winters, high taxes and being stuck far out on a geo-political and socio-economic limb. They brood a lot over the meaning of life in a self-absorbed sort of way without ever arriving at satisfactory answers. (…) All this svårmod makes the Swedes very self-conscious and socially awkward. When two Swedish individuals meet for the first time, there are actually four people present: the two visible persons, plus their invisible alter-egos who stand close by and criticize every word and every gesture. Only when the acquaintance is well established do the alter-egos move to the sidelines, albeit still shaking their heads.

Undfallenhet: You may call a car rental firm to say the studs are missing from the winter tyres and that, as a consequence, you are unfairly exposed to the risk of having to pay for any collision damage. To this the rental agent is likely to reply: “Never mind having to pay for collision damage. What about your personal health and safety?” It’s a response that takes all the fun out of complaining. (…) Being aggressive is considered a macho thing in many Western cultures. In Sweden it’s viewed as a handicap. (…) Undfallenhet is not to be confused by cowardice. Sweden has long stood firm on its conviction regarding matters like apartheid and dictatorship.

Lagom: “just enough” or “in moderation.” Lagom permeates Swedish life. Economically it has enabled the nation to find the middle ground between Capitalism and Socialism (Progress and Humanity). In manufacturing, lagom discards gold-plated designs in favor of optimum solutions. Socially lagom puts conformity before excellence, tempers extreme personal wealth and poverty, and leaves the Swedes irksomely at peace with themselves. (…) When something is said to be “lagom good” it actually means it’s the best.

In the battle between idealism, heroism and common sense, the latter always wins.

Patriotism: The Swedes sneer at public manifestations of patriotism, conveniently forgetting that the blue and yellow Swedish flag is everywhere to be seen. (…) Swedes are not patriots in the usual sense. Victory monuments come in the form of rune stones rather than bronze statues. Ask them what link them to their native country and they will hold forth, not about government, history, or culture, but about deep forests, smiling archipelagos, crayfish served with aquavit, and flower wrapped maypoles. For Swedes the national flag is primarily an eye-pleasing backdrop. Rather than rallying people to war, it invites them to a picnic in a meadow.

Being rich in Sweden has never been easy. As Ingmar Bergman found out, even millionaires can have difficulties making ends meet when income tax is levied at 102%. But even after taxation, the filthy rich remain merely filthy in the eyes of the not-so-rich, who themselves are far from poor. Manifestations of personal wealth have always been  frowned upon in Sweden, based on the assumption that for every winner there has to be a loser.

Religion: there is a saying that all Swedish people are born free, but taxed to death. Until 1996 all children were born into Lutherian faith. These days they are allowed to choose their own faith. Those who have not opted out show their Lutheran piety by attending church on at least four occasions, namely for their baptism, confirmation, wedding(s) and funeral (I might add here: and the 6-12 or so times you have to attend mass to get confirmed. Ahem. I mean, amen. Swedes are still religious though – we celebrate nature and whatever force created it. Some call that pagan.)

Money Matters: The Swedes truly understand the joy of giving and taking. They give as much as they take, neither more, nor less. (…) Restaurant bills are divided up evenly after meals (not equal shares, but each person pays for their own food). Ulf and Ulla out on a date are equally intent on settling their score evenly. A foreign observer of scenes like these could be forgiven for thinking that the Swedes are pathological skinflints. The truth, however, is that they load becoming dependent on other human beings through indebtedness in any shape or form. Accept a gift and one feels obliged to reciprocae in kind. Receive a favor, and expect to be called in at a later date. (I would say it’s a sense of fairness. Right be right. This can also be applied to dating rich people: then they pay for you, until you make your own millions, then you pay for them and believe me: if you are Swedish you will remember to pay back.)

Women and Men: The stereotype Swedish woman is beautiful, opinionated and speaks three languages. She has a strong aesthetic sense and her attitude to sex is accommodating. While single she travels the world and samples the local climatic and climactic delights. Once married, she invariably has a career and keeps her own money.

The average Swedish man is seen as being shy, taciturn, submissive, sentimental principled, reliable – precisely the sort of male companion the Swedish woman covets as the father of her 13/4 children. He is Mr Fixit (if you don’t know how to handle a hammer, just forget it). He is basically a loner and is happiest at work, on the ski slope or at the country cottage which he is constantly rebuilding. (I kinda like outgoing social type of guys that radiate warmth from a mile away, but maybe that’s just me???)

Swedes congratulate themselves for having been first in the world to achieve total equality between the sexes.(…)

By international standards, Swedish women have always been highly emancipated. In the days of the Vikings, only a woman dared tell a warrior what a corny oaf he was. (…) Nowadays, members of the Women’s Movement are campaigning for men to sit down when urinating, their point being that men have been flaunting their anatomical advantage for much too long.

One thing Swedish men and women have in common is a curious diagnostic to human relationships. Social, as well as sexual, intercourse techniques are analyzed and compared in great detail – along the lines of “How was it for you?” and “How can we improve it next time?” (In stark contrast to Californians’ attitude of: if it’s bad, let’s say it’s good. Problem solving? Are you kidding me? I’d have to confess to there being a problem? That’s a sin, no? Tell everyone they are great and if they aren’t – just never talk to them again. Whatever you do – just never say anything negative.  Sneaking out the backdoor is so fucking Cali and to a Swede – so fucking confusing. I’m thankful to be here, I’d just be thankful if I could learn to understand them too…)

Children: The statutory maternity leave is 12 months at 80% of the mother’s most recent salary, plus another 3 months at a reduced rate (you can take this out any time from the child is born until s/he is 8 yrs old, you also, kids or no kids, get 5 wks of vacation every year, plus general holidays). Since nearly all couples have parallel careers, it is up to the mother and father to decide who stays at home with the newborn child. (…) Spanking a child – even one’s own – is against the law in Sweden.

Hospitality (and honesty): The Swedes stake out the limits of their hospitality in no uncertain terms. They assume that you will do the same. So when you tell them to come and see you anytime, they will do precisely that. And if you protest that they are leaving much too soon, they’ll stay on to keep you company. It’s a square, square world. (Unlike Cali, where everything’s a bit fussy around the edges. How do you know when someone means what they say if they only tell you the truth 50% of the time?)

The taboo subject: The Swedes consider themselves the most broad-minded people on earth. They boast that only in Sweden are you free to discuss absolutely anything, be it sex, money, incest or euthanasia. Don’t take their word for it, though, because generalizing about nationalities (other than the Norwegians) is definitively out. Swedish people love to criticise about their own country when amongst themselves; but when a foreigner enters the room, suddenly Sweden can do nothing wrong. (Mark my words, I warn thee.)

Anyone who’s wondering what really make the Swedes tick need look no further: it is coffee. (The coffee shop culture in Sweden can be summed up by saying: a café in every corner. We don’t hang out. We go for coffees, or rather a “fika” meaning coffee and something to eat with it.)

Drinking: It is often said that the Swedes have a drinking problem. (…) As a matter of fact the Swedes consume less alcohol than most other countries in the EU. (…) The Swedish government is defying EU law by restricting the sale of spirits. Outlets are few and far in-between, open late, close early and mask the whereabouts of liquor by displaying everything but spirits in their windows. Citizens who do manage to find one are charged exorbitant prices for anything stronger than wine. (This is why Swedes get drunk when vacating in the Mediterranean and buy all their spirits in Germany.) (…) Another deterrent is the stiff penalty meted out to anyone caught driving a vehicle with even an extra molecule of alcohol in the blood. One hapless driver, who was pulled over and breath-analyzed seconds after swallowing a rum-filled chocolate, tested positive and was driven away to a police laboratory for tests. The tests showed no trace of alcohol in the blood and the driver was acquitted, but only after agreeing to pay for the test as well as a fine for wasting police time. (Of course they do not count how much home-made spirits are in circulation, only deaths and blindness caused by these every year. Just a note.)

Obsessions: A great deal of emotion is associated with childhood memories of summers gone by. It has to do with the taste of wild strawberries and the smell of freshly cut hay, listening in bed to the cuckoo at dawn (in the south dawn is around 3am and sunset around 12am), catching crab with fish heads on a string, and watching the fishermen tar their hulls. The Swedes are the world’s greatest nature lovers and will spout about it until the cows go home. (…) The Swedes have a dream: to save nature from man. This is more than just a vision – it’s as close to a passion as the Swedes ever get.

Leisure and pleasure: The Swedes indulge in sport for leisure and sex for pleasure. (…) President Eisenhower once noted in a speech that there was a country in Northern Europe where moral standards had fallen to an all time low. The subsequent avalanche of American tourist upon Swedish soil left little doubt which country he had in mind. The visitors were not disappointed for they returned home with photographic evidence that the Swedes swim naked whenever they think nobody’s watching (and who has less morals: the person watching or the one thinking s/he’s alone with nature?). (…) In the 18th century Linnaeus studied the sex life of plants with such intensity that he became known as the Peeping Tom of Botany. (…) It is true, however, that their attitude to sex is largely unencumbered by taboos. The Swedes, like the Dutch, believe in easy natural sex as a way of resisting unnatural forms such as prostitution, incest and child abuse.

Cinema: Sweden has a lot in common with Disney World. On the surface people seem to lead a carefree existence in a fairy-tale paradise. Underneath is a whole different world, which is out of bound for most visitors.

If you didn’t get enough – buy the book. I laughed till I cried, but then I am Swedish. You may have an inferior sense of humor.

On a very Swedish note about nationalities: I find being Swedish an asset. I love my home country and feel lucky to have been brought up with some of the values over there. Like people still know how to use a hammer and a sewing machine. Common sense still exists and I like the idea of progress combined with humanity, not one over the other….and don’t even get me started on saving nature from man. I also left for a reason. I just didn’t feel like I was “only that.” I am more than just a Swede. I am a human being. And so is every other person, were they born in the fires of hell, or the kingdom of heaven. No one probably wish to be born in a country, or part of a city, labeled by the rest of the world as dangerous, or nasty in any other way. Nor do people probably grow up wishing to become criminals. Beneath it all: human. People can only see life for what they know of it. Show someone love and they may end up lovable.

Also, I don’t like everything from my personal past. I am sure the Germans today don’t love Hitler either. What good is there to say that the Vikings were warriors? I am not a warrior, well at least not in that sense. Maybe we can learn from the past, but to boast about it? Nor do I agree with all the politicians in Sweden. If someone said that because I’m Swedish I would be like Gudrun Schyman, I would, oh man, faint. And I mean Americans are supposedly against communism, but their greatest financial debt is supposedly to China. Not to mention Swedes being against apartheid and dictatorship in SA and Chile, but neglecting it in Russia (too close for comfort???). There are contradictions everywhere. I love many Swedish values, I get disturbed by seeing all the homeless people in LA (someone told me they amount to a startling number of 160,000) and the segregation between rich and poor (paying to go to school? Please, shouldn’t children at least be equal? How can they become great if they aren’t given a chance?), but I still prefer to live in LA. I am a funny mix and so are probably most of us.

Californication “…little girls from Sweden dream of silver screen quotation…” – Red Hot Chili Peppers

16 Comments

Filed under Humor, Life, Men, People, sex, socializing, Society, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women

Are you an angel??…

Above Shakespeare & Co. in Paris is a sign saying: “Strangers are angels in disguise.” Through my travels I have discovered many such angels. I have faith that wherever I go there will be someone to help me out when I need it, if I only ask and am prepared to give back in one way or another. It may not be the first person I bump into, but it will be someone.

The world is filled with angels, yet sometimes we allow ourselves to get caught up in dramas with people who are not treating us like we were angels in their lives and sometimes we forget to treat others like angels ourselves.

It is hard not to take your best friend, your family, your partner, etc. for granted. Some relationships have existed since you were born and it’s sometimes hard to be impartial and look on them from the outside. For a long time, my relationships with people just happened. I didn’t look upon them as a creation, but rather as just being. Today I take extra time to make sure that I contact people regularly, I give them compliments, I ensure they know I care. I didn’t always do that. To be honest, I often felt embarrassed to show I care. Now I make a point out of it. Until I learned to appreciate myself, it was hard to give compliments freely to others a) because it’s hard to give what you don’t have yourself and b) because I felt they didn’t want to hear it from me anyway.

There is this story Gary Chapman shares where he tells of a man who discovered that his wife’s primary love language was gifts and from that day on he would bring her new gifts every week. I mean small things like cookies, a flower, a hand written note, etc. I thought that was so cute. It was someone creating something wonderful, rather than just going through life taking a person for granted. And as we all know, I like people who spice up their lives – not just watch fairy tales on the big screen and oh and ah about them, but rather start refurbishing their living room, or cooking different foods, or going on different adventures, to live the life of their dreams. What’s the point of fairy tales if not to show us what’s possible in our own lives?

One day I was talking to my best friend. We were discussing friendships and what to do when friends “lose the plot” in one way, or another. She told me that she wouldn’t walk out on me no matter what happened, unless she was contributing to my issues. I had a shock. Now, my best friend and I are as tight as Siamese twins, but my whole life I have carried around this fear of being abandoned. It’s a long story, but sufficient to say people have threatened to do so if I fuck something up. So I’ve had this manic fear of fucking up and I thought that that’s that. You fuck up, people leave. Love is, in other words, conditional. Without realizing it, my best friend broke my model of the world. What she told me was the obvious, but to me it wasn’t obvious. If you don’t tell someone they look great, how are they supposed to know? You may think they know that because you are dating them, or buying them flowers, but it’s still different to hear something said to you. It should have been obvious to me that my best friend would never leave. Apparently it wasn’t, because people threatening to leave had, up until then, been frequent in my life.

OK, so apart from us not treating people like angels all the time, I’m sure you have bumped into a person or two who wasn’t too nice to you? I used to constantly date guys who couldn’t make up their minds about me. “You’re hot then you’re cold, you’re in then you’re out…” I mean it’s to the point where if a guy says “it’s off” to me, myself and my best friend make bets on how long it will take for him to come running back. Again, it’s probably due to my childhood that wasn’t all that great and a lot of people leaving, threatening to leave, etc. Needless to say – I had trust issues. Still, for me today to trust someone takes time. I need to really know that the person won’t just turn their back and walk away. In my ideal world a guy would hold my hand and tell me that he wouldn’t leave and no matter how much I wanted to run away from him, he wouldn’t let me leave (because of course I try and push people away when I get scared – better alone and unhurt, right? FALSE. You feel more hurt from being alone because you keep thinking no one loves you – I was a pro at this in my childhood.)

Anyway, I kept dating guys that didn’t know what they wanted and that’s a sure-fire way of having your heart-broken (and an equally sure-fire way of never having to commit yourself and never getting so close to someone who you’d get truly hurt if it went wrong). I worked on my internal issues and worked and worked… Things got better and better. Then I had this dream one night that a guy sort of liked me, but not quite and I woke up thinking that I was clearly still not through with it all and it bugged me…until: *light bulb going on* If a guy was not sure he liked me, I would leave him. No matter how great a piece of candy he was, bye, bye. I mean I couldn’t eat the candy when I felt like it anyway, so what was the point of drooling over it?

I’m sure you are all “that was the obvious answer,” but it took me years to work that one out. I just sat there feeling rejected if someone didn’t like me enough to know that he wanted to be with me. When I changed my point of view and decided to get rid of all the maybe babies, suddenly I was the one in charge of my own life again.

Truly beautiful people whom you really kick it off with are such a gift, but so is the woman in the grocery shop who actually smiles at you. Life is filled with angels and my mission is to be one and befriend other angels.

2 Comments

Filed under Dating, Inspiration, Joy, Liberty, Life, Love, Men, Motivation, People, Personal Development, Relationship, relationships, Self-confidence, socializing, Society, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women

Sliding doors…

Isn’t it funny, if you look back on your life and think about all the small co-incidences that have taken you to where you are now? Like how you googled one thing, found something else and it totally changed your life? Or how you decided to attend that one party instead of another and you met your new boss or lover?

I could talk about a zillion such co-incidences (because let’s face it – our lives are made of them – every lover you ever met, every friend, every job offer, every adventure…they were all just co-incidences), but for today, I will stick with one: Isabel Allende. (If you want to know more about the co-incidences in my life these posts will do it: Paris… and Magical meetings and serendipity…)

I fell in love with Isabel Allende at the tender age of seventeen – I was having an awful time living in Vancouver and this little lady made me smile as she stood in the middle of a church describing how she knew she had overcome a depression after dreaming sex dreams about Antonio Banderas swimming in rice pudding. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think food and sex are perfect companions. So much so, that I am setting up a company that deals with the two put together…no it’s probably not what you think, it’s better than that (what were you thinking?…). I can’t tell you the entire concept, as that would spoil the surprise, but I will let you know when we open.

Of course there are a few other influences than Allende for my business – a dash of Branson, a sprinkle of Moulin Rouge, a slice of my best friend and a teaspoon of my business partner and a few cups of a certain chef or two…but I’ll leave the details for my autobiography. For now, I’ll leave you in Allende’s hands:

This is the part where I have to get personal and talk about romance.

My books force me to travel frequently. My karma is to stumble from one place to another, like a wandering pilgrim. In l987, while still living in Venezuela, I went on a lecturing tour that took me from Iceland to Puerto Rico, and many other climates in between, until I ended up in Northern California. Little did I suspect that there my fate would change again. I met the man that was written in my destiny, as my mother would say. He was an American lawyer called William Gordon, who was introduced to me as the last heterosexual bachelor in San Francisco. He had read my second novel and liked it. When he saw me he was thoroughly disappointed, however: he likes tall blondes.

After my speech we were invited to a dinner party in an Italian restaurant. There was a full moon and Frank Sinatra was singing “Strangers in the Night”, the kind of stuff that would ruin a novel. Willie was sitting in front of me, observing me with a puzzled expression. The combination of Frank Sinatra and spaghetti tutto mare had a predictable effect on me: I fell in lust. I had been living in chastity for a very long time… two or three weeks as I recall, so I took the initiative. I asked him to tell me his life. This trick always works, ladies! Ask any man to talk about himself and pretend to listen while you relax and enjoy your meal, and he will end up convinced that you are a smart and sexy gal. In this case, however, I did not have to pretend. Soon I realized I had stumbled upon one of those rare gems that storytellers are always looking for: that man’s life was a novel! So I did what any normal Latin American female writer would have done: marry the man to get the story. Well, I didn’t marry him right away, it took some fine manipulation.

First he invited me to his house. I was expecting a romantic evening in a divorcee’s penthouse overlooking the Golden Gate bridge, soft jazz, champagne and smoked salmon. I got nothing of the sort. There was so much dog crap in the garage, that he had to pull back so that I could step out of the car. His youngest son, a ten year old brat, greeted us with rubber bullets. The golden retriever as hyperactive as the kid, placed his muddy paws on my shoulders and slurped on my face. There were other pets: a couple of maniac rats in a filthy cage chewing on each other’s tails, and dead fish floating in the slimy waters of an aquarium. I didn’t flinch. Lust does that to some people, it gives them an heroic attitude. I liked the man and I wanted to hear the rest of his story. He served a burnt chicken, we drank cheap California wine, and I will skip the rest. The next day, when he took me to the airport, I asked him politely if we had any sort of commitment. He turned chalk-pale and his hands trembled so vigorously that he had to pull over. I didn’t know that you never EVER mention the word commitment in front of an American male.
- What are you talking about, we just met! he mumbled, terrified.
- I am 45 and I have no time to waste, I said. I need to know if this thing is serious or not.
- What thing?- he asked befuddled.

That day I took the plane, but a week later I was back without an invitation. I moved into his house and six months later he had to marry me because I pinned him against the wall.

Isabel Allende

Well…

3 Comments

Filed under books, Dating, entrepreneurialism, Inspiration, Joy, Life, Love, Men, Motivation, People, Story, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women, Writing

Sailing solo…stark naked…

Have you ever felt like you cracked open? Like every event, every emotion, there ever was fell out of your chest and onto the world for full view? Today I felt like that and before my jet-lag dissipates and the fog leaves the hills once more and daylight enters, I will share it with you. Come tomorrow, having a clear head, I will once again want to sweep this story under the carpet. For now though, the hills are covered in fog and I feel safe and secure, sitting half asleep in my bed, writing.

Journeys end in lovers meeting, or so Shakespeare said. Traveling for me has always been a way of life. I have been blessed to see many places, I have had wonderful adventures and I have met some astounding people. Traveling has also always given me perspective – you cannot look at your life from the same point of view when you are looking at it from a different place, under different circumstances. What’s more, my passion for traveling has given me an excuse to always leave people and places before they leave me. I never worry what others think of me, because I don’t live there anyway. I don’t really care, so I feel free, independent and happy, but today I got sick of traveling. I don’t want to need to be constantly running to feel happy. After having my sister calling me yesterday complaining about not having seen me for eight months and a friend crying as I left London town, I just realized it’s about time I face up to it, if I want to end my journey in a loving meeting, rather than as soon as I want to become part of a town, a social circle, or a man, feel like I’m being judged and lose my self-confidence and start running all over again to feel safe, secure and confident.

Today I saw the movie The Time Traveler’s Wife on the plane. It wasn’t a good movie, it was poorly executed, but to me it meant the world to watch it, because suddenly I saw my life in a completely new light. I saw how it would have looked like from a time traveler’s perspective and what it would have been like having myself come back from the future to tell me not to be scared when things were rough.

If you could watch your life, your story, as a movie, what would you think of the protagonist? Would you not see your life in a different light? If you could go back in time and hold your own hand when you were a kid… If you could hug that kid and tell him or her what s/he really needed to know…what would you say?

Man do I wish there had been someone there to hold me when my mom was dying, telling me life is not all that scary. I wish there was someone who would have told me there was nothing wrong with me when the bullies were calling me names, or my step-mom was yelling at me. Lord do I wish there’d been someone to tell me that just because the boys didn’t like me, I wasn’t unlovable. When people asked me if I was anorexic because I was skinny, I wish there’d been someone there to tell me that skinny is pretty too. I wish someone would have just made me understand how gorgeous a person I was. What a beautiful human being I was. How lovable I was.

I really feel for the girl I once was. Watching it from the outside, all the panic, the fear, the sadness, the loneliness she felt and how she blamed herself over and over again for it. It seems absurd now, but she thought she was worthless because it was all her fault. She hated herself for others leaving her, or being mean to her. She kept trying to identify what was wrong with her. Why she was unlovable and how to solve it. There had to be something strange, because she was not mean to people, so why were they mean to her? What was wrong with her?

At the age of seventeen I went to Vancouver. One night, due to a row of events, I had a panic attack, only I didn’t know what it was. As it happened my host mom was angry with me, so she thought I was faking it and left me lying in a heap on the floor – only opening the door to the garden for fresh air. I had to crawl up on my own. I couldn’t call my dad as he was away in travels. It was too late to call someone in Vancouver. So I sat there thinking I might just die. I then swore that if I survived I would open a nursery for street children as no one should have to feel like I did then and there, or for that matter, other times in my childhood too. No one. Yet, I felt no sympathy for the girl who sat there herself. She was just a girl who on a daily basis fought her own insecurities, thinking the world would never love her unless she made herself more outgoing and cool. Unless she succeeded in becoming rich and famous. Her only true friend was her dreams – they didn’t hurt her. They just fueled her. So she set out to achieve them and her whole life changed. So did she, but the thoughts on the inside never completely changed. Not until today. Not until I saw that movie.

Do you know what your eyes look like when you feel loved? Do you know how they sparkle? Do you know how beautiful you are? Look at your hands – do they ever make something for you? Look at your feet – do they ever take you places? Look at your mouth – does it ever make you taste things? Look at you – aren’t you gorgeous? Aren’t you worth all the love in the world? Isn’t that just a beautiful person?

That would be me…hiding in there…almost stark naked…

21 Comments

Filed under dreams, Inspiration, Joy, Life, Love, Motivation, Personal Development, relationships, Relationsip, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized