We only realize what happiness is about, after it has slammed the door to our inattention; and killing silence has deafened the tunefulness of our life. (“Happy days are back again”)
Let us dare to dream and shoot for the moon. Even if we don’t fetch the moon, a million stars may fill us with wonder. (“Happiness blowing in the wind”)
When a soothing wind blows gently love through the thistledown of expectations, hope may inveigle the future for timeless care and tenderness to be anchored in a bay of good luck. (“Happiness blowing in the wind” )
Beauty is not a warrant for wellbeing and so does happiness not hinge on social success, but is only tangible via intricate, meandering discovery journeys in the mind. (“Absence of beauty was like hell”)
People die from lack of shared empathy and affinity. By establishing social connectedness, we give hope a chance and the other can become heaven. ( “Le ciel c’est l’autre” )
When scorching passion only leaves ashes of unfulfilled dreams, hope may entice the sprinkling magic of our imagination into livening up the footlights on a new stage of life. (“Taken for a ride”)
Hope may inspire and inveigle us, but we cannot just live on hope. Certainly, love can be hope, but it is merely a contingency, since it might either mend our life or break our heart. (“Waiting for the smoke signals”)
When we take the time to break free from the tyranny of Time and learn to listen to the sound of unspoken words, we discern the hot air behind the frenzy of the wheeling and dealing around. (“Wheeling and dealing »)
The skeletons of the past must not hold back the dream of a new life, even though fear and regret, guilt and remorse may unsettle us during the effort to give our future a new home. (“Into a new life”)
Woe betides anyone getting in the way of people that keep on muddying the waters, throwing up smoke screens and clouding issues, so as to conceal their dubious motivations. (“Could the milkman be the devil?”)
When people’s parallel truth collides with their real truth, they may have a hard time in subduing all the fanciful items and characters of their invented world. (“The day the mirror was talking back”)
If bees die, people will die. Only ignorance never dies! (“Why step out of nature ?”)
Let us keep enough money to enjoy each breath we take, but definitely not too much, if we don’t want to spoil the fragrance of our dreams and the poem of life.
Without a clear-cut vision and a proper reading of the roadmap we may not reach the buoyant shores of the horizon. If we only keep looking into the middle distance, we might easily walk straight into the wall. (“Change of Vision”)
What a wonderful world it could be, when spiritual factions would choose to read sacred writings as colorful metaphors and not as bloody declarations of war. (“Is heaven a place in the sky?”)
A living together becomes a living apart, when the pineal gland has not been able to create a luster of spiritual togetherness and emotional attachment. (“I wonder what went wrong.” )
Emotion often outwits intelligence, while intuition renders life surprisingly fluent and enjoyable. (“Le ciel c’est l’autre”)
When the past gets its teeth into our daily life, it may get to grips with an astringent reality and adjust our timeline. By recognizing ourselves in the light of our history, we become aware of what we are. (“Going back to yesterday”)
Is heaven a place in the sky?Heaven is what we wear in our heart and in our mind. ( “Is heaven a place in the sky?” )
When our mind is in shambles and we dare to reflect on the story of our life, we may discover, in the stream of our thoughts, the fault line between what we have underfelt and what we have overthought on our way. (“Axel Red”)
As light splinters into darkness, new thoughts may take over in the mind and allow upbeat views to gain power. Thus and so, thoughtfulness readily opens a blistering sky in the faltering shadow of unawareness. (“Absence of Desire”)
When words remain unspoken and emotions are left unexpressed, just a glint in the eyes from otherness can inflame the mind and rouse a shower of empathy. (“Only needed a light “)
When we feel lost in time, with only shadows of the past living in our mind; when the moment, which “was”, no longer “is” and when only silence remains, loads of questions arise. We can cry a river or we may wonder: “What went wrong?
Material and technical changes are mostly quite visible. But less visible are the changes in the mind of the people, their way of thinking, their conception of the world and the quality of their fears. (“Horizon and Vision” )
If we don’t manage to connect the dots anymore and the power of our imagination is creaking at the seams, in a world of withering expectations, we have to rewrite the script of our life. (“Into a new life”)
Power and glory are two dialectic energies working in common ground. Taking a glimpse of the meandering under swell of glory in the shade of power, can be very inspiring and illuminating. (“The power and the glory” )
In a world spoiled by the obituary of attention and the dormancy of empathy, people are coming up short of authentic emotion. (“The upper lip must never tremble”)
When perception, thoughtfulness and understanding do meet, we can fashion a range of viable expectations and craft a world of togetherness. (“Morning after”)
When we stay locked up in the spectrum of unsolved life stories and keep hiding in an arcane prism, life remains a mystery behind perpetual tensions and a journey in a world beyond appearances. (“Une femme peut en cacher une autre”)
That we may not fall short of desire, but let us give way to the unspoken passion hidden in the closet of our discretion. (“Crépuscule du désir”)
If love has taken us for a ride and passion made us ignore sham and swindle, the time has come to separate the wheat from the chaff and polish up diamonds of trust, neatly, day by day. (“Taken for a ride”)
If no signal ever awakens any smoldering desire or seething passion in the wasteland of our mental universe, only a third eye may throw inspiriting light on the path to good vibrations. (“A thousand times”)
When we are smitten, we await love to be “remontant” and to be blooming over and over again”, like remontant roses, with blossoms scenting through all the seasons of life. Passion and patience are to be good allies, though.
When fiction has become reality, life may turn into a fairy tale or a firestorm. Tina, time has come to pull up one’s socks and start relearning and reassessing living. (“Another empty room”)
Reality is not what we see, reality is what we think we see.
People live on the flow of the daily reality and they surge on the waves of hazy expectations. They can experience pleasant junctures and try to catch and enjoy each special moment that is offered to them. Until life takes them by surprise.
When illness and old age are no longer indulgent and strength is irrevocably seeping away, brightness fades insidiously away from the light of the day and time only betrays reckless evanescence. (“Into a new life”)
When living is too sweet and swanky, it may be very hard to appreciate the simplest things in life. (“Is that all there is?”)
Hope always comes after evil has done its work. We cannot keep living on hope, though. (Box of Pandora)
The crucial point in life is: are we living our ‘own’ life or simply a life for ‘other’ people. Are we not playing a role on behalf of some social groups and masquerading for fear of being excluded? ( “Quest for the real moment” )
Let us doom and gloom not creep into our day and lust for life not wither away. With the future as brother-in-arms, steps in the unknown should not frighten. (“Steps in the unknown” )
Let us use words carefully, because words can betray and kill.( “A gap of silence”)
Let us speak less and say more. ( “Words flew away like birds” )
When words have vanished, when daily habits have extinguished emotional exchange, only killing silence remains and indifference takes over. ( “Words had disappeared” )
We cannot wait for the other shoe to drop, when the road becomes unendurably bumpy. If the aura of truth starts to wane and the light of the sky begins to splinter, only resilience can settle things. (“Steaming ahead”)
When ideas evaporate, when shapes fade and forms lose their integrity, our imagination can create an outlandish setting and convert everything into a hazy, misty Turner landscape. (“Back garden of a dream”)
People are seen through the stained glass window of our imagination. ( “The hidden sides of his character” )
Pigs should not make friends with butchers. One must choose one’s friends wisely.
When we feel we have benched ourselves for too long, we must loosen up the unessential, get over our endless cringing and make a bold leap to the glowing stars of our dream. (“Steaming ahead” )
New York is more than a state of mind. It is the completion of a dream. ( “New York at arm’s length of desire” )
Memory may be pig-headed and want us to follow its whims along the blips and dips of our time line. ( “All the words he always wanted to tell her.”)
Life is merely a series of moments and is in fact an unflinching serial killer, since it kills steadily each moment one after the other. Memory is the only survivor. (“Just for a moment”)
When time furtively slips like sand through the fingers and our memory becomes tired and lazy, we recognize we are at war. We are at war with forgetfulness. (“The past was her best friend” )
Shrink wrapped ideas and prefabricated thoughts are a result of sloth and laziness. (“Prêt-à-penser”)
Once we get to know where and why the skeletons of the past are buried, we can start wading across our muddled memories into the open plains of a new horizon. (“Going back to yesterday”)
Recollection builds up our personality. Our individuality is based on all the little pieces we assembled in the past. (“The past was her best friend”)
Some are in tune with the swanky, but not in tune with themselves. Their desire has become the desire of the others (”’Buying now. Dying later”’)
Love is hope and expectation. If many want to pencil it in, some don’t dare to ink it in, because love also means mystery and enigma. ( ” Love as dizzy as a cathedral”)
Some men can be good ‘ horse whisperers ‘ and many dogs can be wonderful ‘ man whisperers ‘.
If thinking and reason crack under pressure of emotional convulsions or when commissioned facts are resulting from fibs and fake constructions, truth may be in great peril. ( ”Blame storming”)
Better thinking out loud than suffocating from frustration. (“The upper lip must never tremble” )
If the vibrant and frolicking merry-go-round of our daily living has been ousted by an eerie void of an intractable vacuum, only inspiriting memories may shore up our inner world. (“Only silence remained “)
If we misread the blueprint of our life, we need not be ashamed of backtracking on our chosen options. Admitting to mistakes may make us human and maybe great again. (“Sisyphus’ hardship on the hill”)
In the land of the ostriches, the blind are king. When politicians bury their head in the sand, ignorance rules the country. ( “High noon.” )
Only if we transvalue the plain-vanilla standards of our life, we may bring back things to light and sense the lies behind perceptions. (“Behind the frosted glass”)
Silence is a ‘contingent’ phenomenon with positive or negative qualities. When it has to be assessed it needs to be ‘contextualized’ by exploring its background.
Is love just a butterfly? Love can tell us so many things about the deep waters of our inner self and the secrecy in the hidden brushwood of our emotions. (“Alpha and Omega”)
We are all the construction of a story and it is only at the end that we can assess the value of the plot. (“Everybody his story”)
People are not dying of lack of money but of lack of esteem and awareness. (“Kein Schwein ruft mich an”)
Being happy is harder than being discontent. For happiness we have to roll up our sleeves and knock down houses of cards. Because of this exertion, many prefer to abide by ‘fake’ happiness.( ” Happiness blowing in the wind. ” )
Some feel lucky, if they haven’t got to be happy, as they don’t like their frame of mind to be unravelled and prefer to be left well enough alone. ( “C’est quand le bonheur ?” )
Conversation often becomes mere verbal performance and oral horseplay rather than fair-minded communication. (“Juicy rumours “)
For the discovery of self we have to overcome the fear of self, so as to find the marrow ‘within’ and disclose our ‘true’ self. (“Everybody his story”)
Life is an intricate play with actors waiting for an explanation. Each added act confers a new interpretation of the story. ( “Waiting for the pieces to fall into place” )
If the context is lost and merely bits and pieces remain from a scattered existence, only the connection of anchor points may reinstate a distorted mental balance in an upset life story. (“Lost the global story.” )
Love is like a musical score, sometimes very tuneful, creating a harmony of sounds, sometimes extremely harsh, striking a hell of false notes. (“Love lying fallow “)
When the bonfire of love still smolders in the wake of emotional convulsions, seeds of regret and remorse may endlessly linger about on the path of life. (“Taken for a ride)
Regret and remorse” is a dialectic issue about what has been done, about what should have been done and about what should not have been done. ( “Island of regret. Island of remorse” )
Love is illiterate. Whether we write it big or small, we cannot read it. We might only guess. ( “I seek you” )
Love assumes expectation and hope. All actors of the hazardous pursuit of love eagerly look forward to passing a significant cape without injuries or aching scratches: “the Cape of good Hope”. ( ” Those journeys of love” )
When some claim demarcation and “regulation”, others fancy “deregulation”, preferring foxes guarding the henhouse or chicken yards with free chickens and free foxes. Friend or foe, hen or fox, anyone can have a go. (“This far”)
Emotional illiterates, who don’t recognize the sound of a broken heart, will never be able to hear the subtle vibrations of love reverberating through the rustling flora of life. (“Love as dizzy as a cathedral”)
When love becomes a play of squirming mindgames or a tinderbox of mental conflicts, emotional benchmarks need an unremitting reset. (“Another empty room”)
Foulmouthed individuals seem to have their neuron systems replaced by colon structures, given that their terminology profusely consists of “sh*t and f*ck”. (“Tolerance zero”)
If we expect to “know” the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, we may have a hard time seeing the whole picture, since the truth is a willful construction that allows us often merely to “guess”. (“Hinter der Mattscheibe”)