Tag Archives: Sweden

If you love me, join me in the sauna…

Ryanair once sent me an email with the headline Experience Swedish Hospitality. I thought they were being kinky. I’m not sure if it was their imagination, or mine. I’m uh suspecting it was me. After all I’m Swedish. I know massage. I know saunas. I know skinny dipping. I know the reputation we have. And I use and abuse it. All the time.

I’ve actually found out that the city I’m from, Malmo, is the world’s most dangerous city if you count crime rate per capita. Immigrants have started gang wars and are also robbing people right left and centre. When I was a kid there was a murder a year. Now there’s one a week. It’s so friggin sad. I may not want to live there permanently, but try saying anything bad about Sweden and I will go apeshit. Try murdering my fellow Swedes…I’m not happy.

It’s just so sad that people who haven’t found their passion in life, their purpose, spend their time losing themselves in things that truly don’t matter. Think about it. What matters to you, truly matters to you? How can you do more of that? How can you live your life in a passionate dance of freedom? How can you focus all your energy on the positive? Not just an outcome, outcomes are what they are – some shit comes together, some falls apart – play to win, but enter the game you want to be playing for the sake of playing. Enjoy the game. I know that throwing sticks and stones will give you energy kicks, adrenaline and testosterone flowing freely, but they are temporary and they aren’t true happiness. Nor are drugs, or sex, or fashion brands that give you an ego kick… True happiness is love, I’m fairly confident. Do what you love. Spend energy feeding what you love. And love. For the love of God, just love. Love who you are, whom you want to be, what you do. Do lovingly. Whatever is in your hands…treat it with care and love, even if it seems like the most mundane task, or difficult situation. Apply love, peace and understanding. Between the three you could save the world. Your world.

I get angry sometimes. I get furious. I get furious with myself, the people in my life, the stories I hear on the news (I avoid most)… I get frustrated. I get so frustrated I wanna scream because I haven’t yet figured something out, I miss someone, I miss the sunshine, I’m scared and I don’t wanna be scared, I see my mistakes, I see my flaws… But then I step away. I look at myself as whom I want to be. Who I am in the core of me. I see the beauty and the love. I see me. I see all I want to create, all I love and all the people I love, no matter if they drive me insane at times. I start living as the true me in that moment and suddenly I just feel love and happiness. This world is paradise. There is pain in paradise, but it is still paradise. I just need to move back to the beach…

What I’m trying to say folks is this: choose love. Step away from whatever is that isn’t love and make a conscious decision to choose love. Your world will shift and the world will shift with it.

Join me in the sauna. It gets hot in there when you turn on the love. Go on then – don’t be shy. Clothes off, love on.

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Filed under Liberty, Love, Passion, People, Sweden, Uncategorized

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

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

Why don’t you come with me?…(“coz I’m a gypsy, I might steal ur clothes and wear them if they fit me…”)

“I’m sitting on a railway station, got a ticket for my destination…” (or the story of my life) – Simon & Garfunkel

As I started writing this post I was sitting on my friend’s couch in London. I continued writing on Victoria train station. Then, after desperately trying to figure out where the heck Pret A Manger had moved to, before realizing I was at Gatwick, not Stanstead, I wrote some there. I continued my musings airborne somewhere between London and Copenhagen. As I finish it now I am in a tiny village (so small there isn’t even a shop, or a bus stop, only fifty odd houses or so and a harbor) in the Swedish countryside.

Mysterious smells, colorful fabrics, exotic tastes, amazing sceneries, incredible adventures… If you, like me, sat by the seaside dreaming of sailors from the 18th and 19th century when you were a kid, you have probably had these images sweeping through your mind, like vivid paintings filled with sensations. If you, like me, dreamt of being someone always on a journey of discoveries and learnings, you probably know that it feels like an urge inside of you. If you, like me, were addicted to the mysteries and possibilities of life, you know how easy it is to get caught up in it. If you, like me, are a dreamer with an insatiable lust for life, then you know what I mean when I say it’s like having the wind calling your name constantly – you just simply can’t resist it. It’s like being under a spell and before you know it you are heading somewhere new – whether in your mind or on the road.

I have, for as long as I can remember, been addicted to journeys – both in my mind and on the road. I must have been what, two weeks old when I first set foot on a boat? Something like that. Every summer I’d spend a month on the sea, traveling from harbor to harbor. I ended up feeling more at home on the boat than in our homes on land. Maybe because I was teased in school and the summers were my break from it, or because the homes on land kept changing. The boats kept changing too, but at least we kept returning to many of the same places.

When I was three months old my parents took me to France for the first time. My grandparents had a timeshare there and I was to return several times. Even if I didn’t go there every year, I would get treats each November – olives, cheese, candy (coffee bonbons from Italy – yum!)…

We also went on sun vacations and trips to Finland, Germany, etc. I liked the sun the best. Made me relax and feel alive. People seemed happier, more laid back. Not so obsessed about designer shoes and the latest hairstyle. (Says the chic sitting in her Prada bling-bling glasses, ahem…)

I traveled abroad on my own for the first time when I was 14 – to Isle of Wight (rainy!) – and since then I’ve gone all over the place. Somehow I’ve also managed to live for shorter, or longer, periods of time in Vancouver, Paris, London, LA and, of course, Sweden.

My mind went on different paths because I spent a lot of time on my own as a kid and read more books than was probably considered healthy. I started to question everything, because I read so many different points of views. And I got ideas. A surplus of them. They drive me nuts, because I’m also incredibly creative, so I have to execute them in one way or the other, or they float around in the back of my mind, annoying the hell out of me. So for me, creating movies and building companies became my dream path, because I can execute my ideas.

Apart from my family, who keep insisting I settle down and get married (my dad is pro the settling down bit, my gran is pro the marrying bit and my sister is pro become an aunt…), everyone thinks I’m living a most exciting life. Up until recently though, it hasn’t been all that exciting, because it has felt like I was fighting a war.

People say I’m brave for following my dreams, but what they don’t realize is that it was never a choice for me – I get so miserably unhappy when I do something else it isn’t really a possibility. Some people are addicted to drugs, I’m addicted to living a certain kind of life. That doesn’t make it easy following my dreams though. Sometimes the dreams themselves feel more like a jail than liberation. Because being some sort of mix between a strict business person, a mad entrepreneur, an even crazier artist and a gypsy, just doesn’t always make sense. And to become a successful entrepreneur and movie director, unless you slide in on a banana peel through contacts and was born knowing how to do it all, it just ain’t easy. I don’t know how many times I have looked at nine to fivers that have lived their whole life in one town, wishing I was like them. Wishing that I was not up till two am working on some crazy project, living on a shoestring budget (no, it’s not glamorous and interesting being a poor artist and entrepreneur, just get rid of that romantic notion right now). Wishing my friends weren’t spread out all over the world. Wishing I had some sort of safety net (well with the years I guess my friends and contacts have become one – everywhere I go I am looked after by the most wonderful people you could possibly imagine, but they don’t give you health insurance, paid vacation, or for that matter – pay for your kids college degrees).

So many times I’ve cursed myself for being who I am until, finally, I gave up. Yes, I’m always on some sort of crazy adventure, or undertaking some sort of mad venture or another, and I’m either out of love, or in love with someone equally crazy human being and no, it’s not always easy, but it’s who I am. I learn with the years. I become smarter, but I am still me. The thing is – you can either work against yourself, or with yourself. As my friend said yesterday “Well, you may surprise me and marry one of the Joneses, or Browns, but it is highly unlikely. From what I know, it just ain’t gonna happen. Nor are you ever going to settle down with a normal job until you have tried every possible way of doing what you love, which is your own projects. And that’s just it – that’s who you are.” I used to curse that – why can’t I fall in love with Mr Oh So Nice And Secure and get the equally nice and secure nine to five? Why can’t I go to cocktail parties and enjoy talking about nothing? I guess because that’s just not me. Maybe being me is crazy, or as the French say “bizarre.” The point is: It’s me. I am me. Life might have shaped me, but at some stage or another, I agreed to it – I became that shape and I can either fully embrace it and enjoy it, or continue to feel stupid for it. I prefer the former.

Maybe it’s the same for all of us – we became a certain person, but it took us years to learn how to be that person in a way that suits us – i.e. playing the cards in our favor (instead of the cards playing us in a rather random fashion). I guess it is called the school of hard knocks – you learn your flaws by committing mistakes and you educate yourself to turn them into advantages (and then you practice some before you nail it). It took me some time to not wake up at 2am wondering hat the heck was going to become of me (I finally sat down and figured out plan A, B and C and realized that I will do well in the end, so I might as well stop worrying) and it took me even longer to appreciate who I am, even if I’m not who everyone appreciates. Since I have let go of my fears and embraced being me (so if I still try to get rid of some nasty ideas and habits…like trying to run to meetings full speed in high heels…), life has become magical. I’m still learning, but instead of beating myself up along the way and wishing I was somewhat different, I fully enjoy myself.

Now I guess I just have to find Mr Right too to join me on this crazy venture, so I can at least calm down some parts of my family. But he’s gotta be as crazy nuts as I am, because he can screw me if I am wrong and fuck me if I am right, but I like my life!!!

“‘Coz I’m a gypsy…are you coming with me?…” – Shakira

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Filed under dreams, entrepreneurialism, Film, Joy, Life, Love, Men, Personal Development, Relationsip, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women

Nudity…

Around two am this morning I was riding on a friend’s shoulders through Camden Town, eating raw ice cream. Now, to walk through Camden in an Armani suit is probably a lot more weird than what we were doing. Yet, I saw one person give me a look like “what the fuck?!?!” And somehow it got me thinking.

Yesterday I talked about how we play with words – how we may undress, or dress our words so as to avoid speaking the truth, but at the same time speaking the truth. I.e. we play little games – either because it’s fun (like flirting), or because we are scared and want an exit plan if someone should disagree with our words, or the intention behind them. So I thought a lot about being naked. Of stripping bare. Is it scary? If so, what’s there to be afraid of? Yourself?

Someone told me when I started this blog that I was brave, because just imagine – I was sharing who I am rather openly. Like it was a risk. What’s the risk in it though? People may not like it. People may give me shit for it. And I may change my opinion tmrw. but I cannot hide what I used to think. Fine. But what if what I feed them every day is not me? Then what? Well, what I am then is someone living a lie. And don’t tell me that that’s not who I truly am, because that is me – choosing to be a lie every day. What’s the risk of that? Never living at all.

People behave like the truth is painful. I think it’s all the lies that are painful. The lies make us scared of who we are, when it’s being who we are that brings us all the freedom.

You have been hypnotized since you were born into thinking what’s right and wrong and what your goals in life should be. I know all this. Yet, I feel more comfortable with people that I know think similar thoughts to me. People that won’t question me. People that have a similar outlook in life. I still start squirming when I sit next to someone who is having a conversation about the latest issue of Elle Magazine and lipstick. I simply don’t know what to say. And I am certain the person will not like me. So I really try to think of something to say that suits who they are. I still want to be liked. To be liked of course all you have to do is like yourself for who you are. So that you can relax when you sit next to someone that is everything that society ever said you ought to be without feeling weird. Because nine times out of ten it’s not them not liking you. It’s you not liking you. It’s you thinking you have to be someone else.

When was the last time you left everything comfortable behind and decided to spend time with people that either question everything that you have chosen to become, or whom you feel completely unrelated to? When was the last time you showed up as a punk if you normally wear Armani suits and in an Armani suit if you normally dress like a punk? When was the last time you just showed up without any attitude? Sat next to someone just being, rather than having to be? When was the last time you sat with yourself enjoying you?

In Sweden we aren’t too fussed about being in the nude. As I see it you have a body that you can either be proud of or curse. There are certain aspects you are in control of and you can therefore change them if you don’t like them. Other aspects just are. You can display them, or you can try to hide them. You can turn them into something positive, or you can ponder on their negativity. You can enjoy what you have, or curse what you don’t have. In either case what you have you have. It’s still there no matter what you do with it. Sure we all have goals of how we wish to look tomorrow, but we are where we are in this moment, on whatever journey we are on to becoming. Either you fight this moment, or you release it. Either you are proud to be naked, or ashamed to be naked. Either you flaunt what you have or you cover it up underneath layers and layers of clothes. In either case you are naked underneath those clothes.

How comfortable are you being completely naked around the people in your life? Around strangers? (And no, I’m not talking about taking your clothes off here…)

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Journeys…

Have you ever been on a journey? Isn’t it the most liberating experience? When you sit on the train or plane and you are leaving everything and everyone behind and go on your very own adventure?

I don’t know why, but for me going on a journey is my no. one favorite way of meditating, simply because it does what meditation does – it takes me out and away from my circumstances so that I can look upon them with fresh eyes. What’s more, it always brings that sense of adventure – of not knowing what you are in for next. Of course you also get to experience different cultures, different smells, sounds, landscapes, people… The coolest thing about journeys may be just that – meetings. You are exposed to a new person, thought, idea, food, piece of art and suddenly something new is created inside of you.

Sometimes journeys can challenge you – you may travel alone without anyone else to support you and you may be put in situations you have no clue about. I have been lost on my own in Marrakech at night. I have been without money in Paris. I have been at supposed gunpoint in London (I couldn’t actually see the gun, so I think the guy was faking it). I have travelled a lot, and I can’t remember all the crazy situations I have been in right now, but there have been a few. My main lesson: ask. Always ask. Traveling is trusting that between you and the people surrounding you, you will make it to the end of the journey, one way or the other.

Above Shakespeare & Co. in Paris there is a sign saying that “Strangers are angels in disguise.” I think they can be – you gotta learn whom to trust, but you have to trust that you will find the angel that you are looking for.

I was packing yesterday for a trip to the UK and Sweden (i.e. I am going home to London and home to Sweden and then I am returning home to L.A….uhh). For the first time in my life I am traveling fairly light (mainly so as to pick up more kitchen utensils from my attic in Sweden….but anyway it is still light…). I don’t know if you have things you absolutely have to bring with you on a journey? I have an obsession for bringing something for everything. You never know what will happen… However, I’m a tad too into having one outfit for every occasion…I mean it gets ridiculous. This made me ponder about how many times in life we bring with us thoughts from the past that are unnecessary?

You know when you have thought a thought so many times you stop seeing it? You just feel slightly uncomfortable at times. You don’t think about it, because you are so used to it. But why are you feeling like you are? What are you thinking? Is it relevant to the situation, like really? Can you reframe it? If you are doing a presentation – what are you thinking about the audience? Are they there to judge you? Or because they want to find out what you have to say? Are they there to be disappointed or to be entertained? Are they there to trash you or support you? Most people by the end of the day want to have a good time.

Usually if we are nervous, depressed or uncomfortable, it’s because of our thoughts going in a direction that isn’t helping us along. It’s like the boy in “The Alchemist” when he has his money stolen – either he can pity himself or he can see it as a big adventure.

We get so caught up in everyday life sometimes that we forget to live – we forget to see the potential in any given moment. A journey is a chance to step back from all of that and remember what you are here for. That life is a gift and that every unfolding day holds magic in it, if you just choose to learn how to play with it. Life is about turning coal into diamonds. And make yourself sparkle…

Memories from Marrakech…what door are you opening today?

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