as I settle into something new, here's something from the archive Some say life is nothing but a spiral, and that after each round you can look back at what lies below, behind. And you never again reach the beginning of a circle, rendering closure impossible. They say that this is what aches so much, nostalgia is a powerful sentiment, and releases the most destructive, most creative, most enigmatic feelings.

It is raining, November moves in with its characteristic chill, I am trapped inside the house, the cat is resting on the heater, paws sprawled and eyes closed. Outside some people are passing with their umbrellas, one red, the other black with white dots. I can hear their voices muffled through the window. I like their inaccessibility, the mystery of their lives is a perplexing charm, a fascination of the familiar, yet unknown. It's what attracts me to watching places like Oxford Street from the warmth of coffee shops. So the umbrella people would be relating their moving spirals to each other, creating interpretations of their lives as literature, filling each item as a symbol of a million feelings, that linger on, some recycled, built into the spiral, others left to rot, slowly collecting dust, sometimes looked at from the distortion of the distance.

And so they say.

But they could be relating stories about the now, weaving a pattern of descriptions valid only for what is observed now. The colours, shapes, light... relevant for the moment, significant in the current of movement. Items, attributes, observations all do generate feelings, but those are fleeting and feeble like petals carried off by some wind. So letting go of the stories of life is part of the practice, treasuring the mystery of experience all the while, and in that sense, they are nothing but perfect circles that must be released like soap bubbles.

One by one, shimmering beauty, in all sizes. Watching them float off in a windy night, or silent sunny morning, with them releasing that feeling of loss, for they cannot come back, cannot be touched again. They would break. (which is proven - only last month I was chasing soap bubbles at a gathering of friends, many of them spraying a fine mist of soapy water into our faces at the attempt to catch them)

So memories are my dearest shimmering bubbles before a dramatic sky. And I smile at their beauty every day, treasure the memory of their existence... while weaving new patterns of descriptions into an endless cloth which is magically released into millions more bubbles, shining and shimmering in their breathtaking beauty.  ¶ 2:17 PM 0 Comments

  utopia without greenwash market place, grass roots coordination of citizens to solve the problem of transportation - utopian.
No. Practiced for about 10 years here in Germany through a website called www.mitfahrgelegenheit.de (translated something like "opportunity-to-catch-a-ride") - a nifty site lets you post trips you take and thus advertise the spare seats in your car at a price you set.

This means several things:
cheap trips all over Germany and many other countries - for individuals.
fully occupied cars instead of many cars with just one person inside - for the environment.
shared petrol costs - for the driver.

So I had the fortune to take three other people to on my trip to Frankfurt and back, which made the ride also more interesting than just having to depend on the radio for entertainment. And I am a total fan of the way this website works.

And best of all: without ideological fanfare - even though this is one of the greenest things I know. A lot to learn from.
(one reflection I had is that it works because of the money involved. cheap trips. shared fuel.)  ¶ 5:06 PM 1 Comments

  Electric Avenue
not unsurprisingly London was pure energy, memories, wanderings of peaceful peace, laughs and hours of conversation. circles manifested everywhere that make me an adventurer of happiness and the moment. moments in which nothing counts but the flavours of curries, soups, tea with milk and flapjacks, the smells of the tube or the cold air seeping out of hyde park, the fuzzy colours of lights reflecting on a wet street and the blinding sun rushing through the buildings, the sensation of the humidity from the grass in Greenwich and embraces of friends, the sounds of the airplanes circling way above on their way to Heathrow. and so on.  ¶ 10:35 AM 1 Comments

  guiding light I had the pleasure to meet Oscar Motomura when he followed our invitation to speak at AIESEC's 60th anniversary celebrations at the International Congress in São Paulo this August. He deeply inspired me with his reflections on ethics and the process of making things happen: effective implementation of solutions for critical sustainability equations.

• If ethics is the choice for the common good (global reach and including all living beings): Deciding to act small because it is more comfortable… is not ethical
• Deciding to hold back (your proposals, ideas and actions) because you don’t want to go against “the group” … is not ethical
• Deciding to doing the possible instead of trying to make the impossible possible… is not ethical
• Deciding to use just a part of your potential (to “save” it for self interest purposes) … is not ethical
• Deciding not to act, to stay silent, letting fear stay in the way… is not ethical
• Deciding to conform to the “letter of the law” instead of persisting on the path defined by the “spirit of the law” … is not ethical
• Deciding not to try because nobody tried it before… is not ethical
• Deciding not to pursue the perfection and conform to what seems “negotiable” … is not ethical
• Deciding to postpone bold actions again and again “waiting for the right moment” … is not ethical
• Deciding to “play the game” and pretend that you are not seeing the manipulations underway… is not ethical
• Deciding to live in the realm of ideas, diagnosis and theories instead of taking the risks and going for actions… is not ethical
• Deciding to act only when all is scientifically proven, even when the truth is self evident… is not ethical
• Deciding to reject all radically creative ideas (yours including) when the “traditional-not-so-radical ideas” have not been working… is not ethical
• Deciding to reject every proposal that looks “idealistic” or “utopic” … is not ethical

(Insights of Oscar Motomura during Tallberg concert that followed a session of the Moral
Boundaries Workshop, Summer 2008)  ¶ 1:37 PM 0 Comments

  back to where I was ...and yet different - of course. Change does not even have a name, since permanence is an illusion. So maybe that is why I look at reality the way I do today, after all these trips, images, conversations, reading, and thinking.
Hope to be back many more times. To where I was, to where I am, and to where I will be. Because is it not the present that is real?  ¶ 11:26 AM 2 Comments

  wanderings time to upload some photos of the last few days in Rome, time to put to paper some of the thoughts I have been building wandering the streets of Rome.
the most important thing is my presence here right now, so I will not yet do anything about photos. time for thoughts now, will wander the Colosseum for a bit again, to take in the pulse of the city around and the sweet presence of history. It is dark and quite chilly, but not the kind of chill we have much further north. Funny how much at home I feel here, communicating now quite comfortably in my Itañol, observing fashion, behaviour, conversations (animated and across the street), and indulging in visiting the small (and bigger) shops specialising in selling all my favourite sweets (read Panettone for example) .
I want to live in a city like this: magnificent, full of perfect imperfections, constant buzz, history and art around every corner, invitations to walk every minute of the day.  ¶ 6:33 PM 1 Comments

  a way life unfolds I am back - to the mystic place that resonates with me, in me. I still remember when I first arrived here, years ago, looking around, connecting immediately. At the final destination that time the air was warm and slightly humid, pregnant with the sweet smell of the remains of a sugar cane field.
So I am back and I recognise the places; places that are an embodiment of possibilities. The possibilities of connecting humanity, transcending stereotypes, of which there are many.
So I am back and I can recreate over and over in a new context that is as fluid as the last, breathing with history of what once was and which transgressed into today.
So I am back to a fundamental love to take the past into the future. The events step by step are as important as they are not: it is about breathing and living and faith. Comfortably I detach from hunger for success and the fear of failure - to learn, love passionately, and write.
My days are dedicated to making sense of what can be and connecting "reality" to the future - creating opportunities where there were none. Connecting individuals, giving them the opportunity to connect to themselves above all and live their dignity.  ¶ 5:38 PM 0 Comments

  we can
chat for hours passionately
plan trips around the world
share dreams
discuss business
bitch about customers
fascinate each other
solve the world's problems
indulge in complex solutions
simplify
just enjoy being together

my love, respect and admiration for this man just keeps growing

how proud I am to have such a father  ¶ 11:40 AM 5 Comments

  missing
in a perpetual state of missing, the place I miss is still London, it was London, has been London and forever will be London. It is everything about it - the lit streets at night, only crystal shop windows, small gardens before terraced houses, light behind wooden window frames, leafy parks, scary roundabouts from my bike, late night sessions at the library or the annual fund, my small house - life on a staircase, our roof and prolonged lunches of pasta with green pesto and tomatoes... the trips to Natalia's house to chill, chat, cook - oh, and our runs along the Thames and showers in the basement of the Old Building (never thought I'd miss them). And earlier memories mix with emotions - a clear February morning on St.Paul's cathedral, my solitary strolls on Queen's Walk on Sunday nights, Oxford Street retail stress and home made muffins.
There is nothing that quite compares to all of this, nor will I ever be able to express it all. But maybe we could go there and have it all together some day?  ¶ 7:33 AM 0 Comments

  Te quiero Tus manos son mi caricia,
mis acordes cotidianos;
te quiero porque tus manos
trabajan por la justicia.

Si te quiero es porque sos
mi amor, mi cómplice, y todo.
Y en la calle codo a codo
somos mucho más que dos.

Tus ojos son mi conjuro
contra la mala jornada;
te quiero por tu mirada
que mira y siembra futuro.

Tu boca que es tuya y mía,
Tu boca no se equivoca;
te quiero por que tu boca
sabe gritar rebeldía.

Si te quiero es porque sos
mi amor mi cómplice y todo.
Y en la calle codo a codo
somos mucho más que dos.

Y por tu rostro sincero.
Y tu paso vagabundo.
Y tu llanto por el mundo.
Porque sos pueblo te quiero.

Y porque amor no es aurora,
ni cándida moraleja,
y porque somos pareja
que sabe que no está sola.

Te quiero en mi paraíso;
es decir, que en mi país
la gente vive feliz
aunque no tenga permiso.

Si te quiero es por que sos
mi amor, mi cómplice y todo.
Y en la calle codo a codo
somos mucho más que dos.

- Mario Benedetti  ¶ 10:46 PM 1 Comments

  kaleidoscopic when I finally let go, I discovered that memories were nothing but dusty shadows of what they once were. There is some pain somewhere, dull, but it lost its pounding intensity and grip on my reality. Already faint and distant.
Instead I focus on the colours of today with their sharp edges and intense volume - breathing, hearing, tasting, touching.

And yet, sometimes the colours of today soften and flow into what can be tomorrow - kaleidoscopic permutations and combinations of what is attached to the ends I hold in my hand now.  ¶ 10:58 PM 1 Comments

  real question: why can't i just go and do something everyone else i graduated with is doing?
(check facebook for what that could be)
answer: because that would not be real enough

enjoyed quite some real life recently.
looked like a porcelain figure on a mantelpiece during a beautiful ceremony. spent nights talking and watching couples disappear in the forest. bitched about rules, tried to circumvent them, and got busted. left a hat on a bus in istanbul. spent time reading on empty dutch stations in the middle of the night. coped with some new challenges that seemed not to have solutions. caught a fresh breath of honesty and dealt with the pain to emerge different and free. spent time laughing smiling poking your side and telling you not to get stressed.

still need a bike. still more things i do not know how to solve. still more flights to book. still not sure when I can hang up the hammock in my room (need a powerdrill to place the hooks). still a lot to communicate. still more pain to deal with.
so it is all pretty real.  ¶ 10:18 PM 1 Comments

  on this side of the ocean. In so many ways, and in all its forms. Life does not go in circles, and certainly not as planned. There is always space to do the opposite, and the drunken exhilaration it provides has cleansing if destructive effects.
the brand-newness not of the surroundings as such, not of the company as such, not of the activities as such, not of the conversations as such, but of the inside. Exhilarating scariness, and connected curiosity...  ¶ 5:58 PM 5 Comments

  morgenstund' remember that I live in the centre of Bogotá...
  ¶ 4:55 PM 2 Comments