the last day of March. 

Spring is arriving.  the pussy willow tree is exploding. the tulips are growing and the country side is tinted in fresh vibrant green. 

the sky is blue and the temperatures are finally rising again. the air is fresh and crisp and carries a sense of new beginning. dreams are unleashed and the mornings are less dark. 

i woke up with a smile on my face. energetic and in good spirits. there is no explanation for why I am smiling on a Tuesday and why I felt doom and gloom on Monday.  Yet there is a blue ribbon that runs through the days like a red thin threat and it's called hope. hope is wishing, dreaming, imagining. 

hope is the engine within me and spring is an excellent fuel. 

the bed linen was soft and warm this morning, the duvet cover cozy and comfortable. the alarm clock cruel and the meow from 'fat cat' annoying. it is raining today. i feel blue. the street is wet and the birds are hiding. the coffee is warm. the neighbor two houses down the street is going on a four week cruise along the coast of Africa. how wonderful. all the national parks, the excursions. i can dream myself away. any time. easily. i would love to see new places. i would love to travel. to explore. but nothing seems more impossible for now. so i travel in my imagination. during my walks. while gazing at old tree trunks. daydreaming. sometimes i see myself on a sunny ocean shore, surrounded by lots of people, sometimes i see myself in an old courtyard, overgrown with beautiful flowers, setting a large dinner table. will any of these various dreams create a reality of their own? and if so, what is the first step now?

fairy tales are entry doors into another world. a world of imagination and wonder, of possibilities and support, of danger and threats. they are powerful door openers into our subconscious. images, collected through the years are all floating around, getting mixed up and turned around within the world of wonder. Alice knew. 

this green door, with its paint peeling off and a door frame that hardly supports the door anymore, reminds one of Greece. Old villages glued to the hills with steep staircases winding down to the ocean. warm morning winds and quiet afternoons. old ladies in black dresses glancing through windows, hidden and covered by lace curtains. men sitting on small benches, the roaring sound of Vespas. Kids playing in the streets. the streets are narrow and made out of cobblestone. The marvelous blue sky melts into the ocean and the eye is sinking into the illuminated blue horizon.  the door seems locked and the  house abandoned. old furniture inside. broken. a shelf displaying a few small glasses.  a table.  no chairs. does this door have a knob. shall we step inside?

the blue strings run through the trees in the middle of nowhere. I'm standing on an unpaved street at the bottom of the hill . just a few feet into the woods, the blue string is attached to a large green plastic barrel and from there the string is zigzagging up the hill. what is this all about? is this an art project or a complex agricultural study? either way, it made me stop on my walk and wonder. someone actually climbed the hill and attached this blue plastic string. with a closer look the string turns out to be a tube, a plastic tube. i like the look of it, the light blue tone, the irregular zigzag.  it carries great symbolism. for life. for daily thoughts. for daily tasks. for a journey into the unknown or for a path that has been created for us. 

on my runs i pass these hurtles and each time they put a smile on my face, encouraging me to keep going in a curious state of mind. 

Can you see the cat in the garage? 

the little grey cat, looking out into the world? i wanted to get closer but i was afraid that she might just get up and run back into the barn. i looked at her for a long time, wondering how her view might be. the cat, the barn,the black doors, the red car, the sunlight - all these layers melt together into a timeless image. or maybe it's more the idea of a timeless image. the barn cat and the red pick-up truck remind me of a 'perfect' world in the middle of last century, a life without the struggles of today's demanding world. a slower pace. 

yes, this is it. an image that allows one to contemplate, allows the mind to travel, to wonder, to imagine. the cat is observing and so is the cat's observer. both caught in time. 

how is it possible that such a glorious sky can trick you into the false illusion of a warm and tender day? Spring has officially arrived and winter is not loosening it's cold grip. quite the opposite. the frost is lingering all day. the wind gusts make you shiver. Writing my pages early this morning was a tough call.  i fought with the alarm clock, arguing for 10 minutes at a time, until i realized that my mind had already started the race and innocent sleep would not be possible anymore. i got up and sat down at my little table, opened my red journal and started writing. off the pen went and words were appearing on the page and i suddenly remembered a dream. i was the house-keeper of a rich businessman. he was always surrounded by friends, colleagues and acquaintances. i was the silent, ignored servant. spring came and i suggested some flowers for the front porch and alongside the pool. he approved of my suggestions, a bit condescendingly though - but he did. his friends were laughing at me. he got up and left. then i stood up, walked over to two women standing casually around in the garden close to the entrance. with a very clear and loud voice i started talking to them. i heard myself saying strange things such as> do you really think that red lipstick proves anything?< > your fake face is not needed anymore<.

while I kept on talking to them, I 'threw' them out of the house. all of them. I walked back inside, knowing that my voice would never be ignored again. never again. and that the businessman and I would be a team from now on. i felt great.

can we really believe in the miracle of change?  in the power of our own voices? in the knowledge of our unconsciousness? - are dreams  more then just the foam of waves, crashing on the shore?

i can close my eyes and see the city. the streets, filled with cars, trucks, cabs, buses, people crossing the streets. i can hear cars honking, people talking, police sirens in the distance, music blasting through open store fronts. i can see the street vendors, I can feel the pulse of the rush hour. there is an underlying current in the air, the rush from point a to point b, the urgency to arrive, to accomplish, to be somewhere, meeting someone. now. fast. there are the little pizza joints, the small restaurants, the take-out places, the delis all filled with people on lunch break. the clock is ticking. everywhere. the subway entrances spill out people and suck them in. the bright sunlight reveals the dirt on the streets. the boutiques mirror the color, show off summer dresses and thin fabrics. sunglasses are en vogue. will always be. 

i don't even have to close my eyes. it's all there.. right in front of me. any time.

markers, for the ones who know, for the ones who understand. metal markers. information plates for a logical orderly world. 

these silvery shiny signs have a  beauty of their own -independent from their original meaning -  they almost look like simple decorative elements. once you start looking for them, they seem to be everywhere, on every power poll out there. both numbered and endless. its a world within a world. if i could understand them, i would most likely have a different take on them. but in the absence of knowledge i can transform them into any sign language i want to. 52 1/2. of what? of years? of distance from point to point? of inches from the bottom to the top of the poll? does it matter? who, except those who know, pay attention to those numbers and look at them. maybe it is just me, who ponders  them without knowing their purpose?

recovering a sense of spring. 

too many trees cloud the view. they look like mikado sticks. which one can be pulled out ? the blue sky is the perfect backdrop. the wind is picking up but the sticks are strong and hold each other together tightly.

a wall of trees like a wall of thoughts. it feels like one must bushwhack through.  i don't have a machete. i don' even know if it is worth the effort. i feel blindfolded. without direction or aim. but the view is beautiful. the air is warm and light. the blue color of the  sky is young and fresh. the trees ready to unleash their leaves. an explosion waiting to happen.  its such an ambivalent place to be. i want to run up that hill and i want to bring down each and every tree and yet i want them to transform into a solid green wall. a wall of thoughts. again. 

monday

Monday. the day ahead has an emptiness to it, the feeling of endless countless hours filled with space and the slow ticking of the clock. the radiant sun has not yet thawed the morning frost, but within the next few hours the warm sun shine will be my friend on my walk. i had a weird dream last night about a Japanese friend of mine. He cashed his checks to pay for my dinner parties always after midnight on the first of each month. While i was waiting for him to call his bank to make sure the check had cleared, I spoke  with a girlfriend of mine on the phone for about 20 minutes. When i returned he and another guest yelled at me for being twenty minutes late. they felt abandoned. i tried to explain my self, by putting the 20 minutes in perspective to his awkward paying schedule, but with no result. Apparently i had been 'late' last month too, which i did not recall. I was frustrated. later in the week i was invited  by the Japanese guy to this home. We all had to sit in a tiny little room, on the bed. the only beverage he offered was a small bottle filled with strong alcohol, that tasted like water. later in the evening a friend of his said with a very loud voice how stupid i was not to know THE nick name for the term 'drug'. I felt like a little girl put in place by parents and i apologized! When he started laughing i got angry. i tried to defend myself. finally i left.  - what is Monday all about?

there is a hint of green everywhere. it almost seems like an illusion, i have to look twice and blink my eyes to make sure the thin soft green layer really exists. here and there the trees have buds on their branches and flocks of birds fly up and down. 

the sun is already rising high and around noon the temperatures clime above 32F. out here. in the country side. 

spring awakening . hope, change and colors. i still have my kissing ball hanging on the front porch. it's time to take the red ribbons and the green decorations on the columns of the house down. i was very reluctant to do this, as those decorations seemed to be the only spots of color for such a long, long time. I can't wait to see the first flowers, the first blossoms. the explosion of  leaves, all at once. I can't wait until its warm enough to sit on the porch - in the early morning hours.

when will the first tulips and narcissus bloom?

i woke up early this morning. the sun just started to rise.

I was sitting on my bed, the cat was happily walking over my legs, when I saw the full moon shining right into my window. it was the most beautiful view. there it was - round, white, perfectly shaped. it looked like it was sitting right at the end of the field, in the distance, on top of the dark tree line. the pale blue sky and the washed out, almost yellowish brown field framed the white ball. The silver grey of the metal roof seemed to blend with the moon light. 

i wished i had a camera next to me to capture this perfect balance of the morning view.

 

i have been in the city the last couple of days. it was grey and rainy but the city seemed  not to care, it was vibrant and alive and i enjoyed it despite the damn cold air and the rain showers.

i took the ferry to Staten Island. I have done this many times before. I enjoyed sitting on the bench and watching all the people taking photos of the statue of liberty, of themselves and then of each other. they all seemed to follow the same rhythm. first they looked at the Statue then they photographed her and then they looked at the image on the camera display. 

a motion, repeated countless times during this half hour ride. all these smiling faces at the ferry windows and i closed my eyes and dozed away. 

of course it rains. again. I'm in the city and it rains. the neighborhood cafe is comforting and i enjoy my cup of coffee here. ready to get a refill. the sky is grey and dense and the music in this place is very old fashioned, almost disturbing. to my left is a young girl. she is also writing. on her laptop. she looks like a harsh secretary. she is tense and her metal glasses don't suit her. she radiates a certain attitude, which i find disturbing. maybe it's just her glasses, the ugly black IBM computer, a cup of tea and her backpack on the floor. she picks up her cell phone and leaves voice messages, sharing them in a loud voice with the people in the cafe, talking about how sorry she is and that she just wants to say hello - some people do truly irritate me. 

the big flat screen TV is set on mute. the reporters from the CCN News room, deprived of their voices, are left with worried faces and concerned looks. I bet the news isn't good. again. 

i need to get my refill. now. - the lady to my left sighs. she is cross-eyed.

i need to go, i need to  enter into a new part of the day.

the subway jungle, the damp subway cars, the wet sidewalks. the umbrellas fighting with the wind. the hurry. the people, rushing along. there it is a again. the loud heartbeat. 

it rained last night and the temperatures are rising. there are only small patches of snow left. the sky is grey and the soil has a dirty brown color.  it is not inviting, yet it is warmer. i dreamt about a friend of mine, who traveled back home to Hongkong. he was sitting in a cab that was driving over a large bridge, connecting the airport to the city island. in the distance, the visual keys of the city were illuminated and i congratulated him on his home coming. finally. he was very excited and i couldn't believe how gorgeous the city looked from the top of this large bridge. the river below us was full of little boats, the round green-golden roof of a large building sparkled in the distance. An ocean of houses squeezed into the valley. i wish i could remember more but only the cab ride is alive from last nights dream. just this ride over the bridge with me sitting behind my friend, hugging him. 

My garden hose is frozen. I never bothered to detach it from the water outlet and bring it in during the the winter months. I did the same thing last year and it survived. this makes be hopeful that the hose will work again this spring. 

daylight saving time starts on Sunday, the illusion of longer evenings lies ahead. i had a good morning, this morning, after a solid eight hours sleep,  but somehow time is eating itself again.

At the end of the meditation ceremony the sensei said 'don't squander your life'. What does it mean, not to squander one's life? did i squander the life span of my garden hose by carelessly letting it freeze during the cold winter months? Or would this behavior more apply to 'don't waste life'? Anyhow. don't squander your life. - let's see. what would I do if i could? what would i do if i didn't have to be perfect? what would i do if i could not fail? - i don't think these questions are to be answered. knowledge is gained differently... . second guessing myself is the main power source for my ever so fast running life clock. and it is a true perpetuum mobile.  the never ending song in my head functions as a perfect brainwashing pill and kills the last bit of outgoing energy and self trust and encouragement. well performed. bravo.

do not squander your life.

 8.30 am. the coffee is still warm. I'm eating some almonds. not that I'm hungry, but i have a lot of nervous energy this morning. On the one hand i want to go back to bed and curl up with the cat and doze off, on the other hand i want to put on my running gear and run for an hour or more. it's freezing cold so running is not an option and going back to bed is  not an option either. Since I have no work I could go back to bed and sleep the day away, but it is  just impossible for me to do that. it feels like throwing life away, neglecting a day. running away from unpleasant feelings. from anxiety and nervousness. maybe i would do it if  - in some miraculous way - it would solve my issues. No it will not. not for me at least. there is a certain power in simply 'doing' that invites fresh energy and positive thoughts. no matter if the doing is 'going to work' or 'creating work for yourself'. the sheer act of 'getting up and going' sets a different tone for the day. it instills a sense of accomplishment, a sense of power, a sense of self-worth. I have a few spring flowers on the table - purple, white and yellow. a friend gave them to me. it is a joy to see them blossom.

I' m scared. I am nervous. angry. I'm still a young girl, hoping that a knight will come and save me. change my world for the better.  what a deeply engraved belief and it works wonderfully as a wall of resistance. As a shield I can hide behind, where I sit and wait - and pray, if i would. 

i will leave the house now. i will go for a walk. exploring life.

wintercold

wintercold.

the powerful winter storm did not hit us hard. the mounds of snow were dropped over the coastal regions and the gusts of wind were not out of the ordinary here. but it is very cold again.

during my morning walk my legs got so cold that i had to shower for quite a while to bring these red legs back to life. the heating system is working overtime again. But despite the harsh winter grip, the sun light has changed and is loaded with spring hopes. the radiant bright sun climbs to new heights in the sky and burns its powerful rays deeply into the ever-so-blinding snow. it feels like warmth is traveling down these powerful sunbeams, but the winds are mighty and the cold air washes all illusions away.

it's the second time in a row that my camera did not function on my morning walk. every time i turned it on it said 'change battery pack', which is really weird since i did charge the battery each time before i went out. so i try to talk myself into a logical or rational  reason for this, such as 'the battery is just old and needs to be replaced' or 'it might be too cold for the camera to function'. all this could be true since I'm not enough of a technician to really know. I'm operating here in a field of assumptions. However i could also look at it from a more philosophical angle and see it as a chance to walk the walk without distraction or side activity. just walking for the sake of walking and letting the eyes travel  - freely.  i like that.