MISSING YOU

How can two people be part of the same world if there is someone always on the missing side? Is it the illusion our soul is trying to crave for romance? To miss somebody leaves one of those empty feelings inside of us we can only understand if the other part is with us again, maybe promising she’ll remember to be yours. Sometimes I wonder if the feeling of missing somebody is nothing but the fear of a sort of imperfection of not being enough. Actually we want to leave just to avoid the steady crossing mind – but we cant!

Is it about the old times, the new times or simply tears? I don’t like to say do not cry since not every tear seems to be a scourge.

But what if we begin to understand that at some point we aren’t able to look back. Can time heal everything or must we accept that some pain is that profound it may embrace us forever? Is this the fortress of our life we must deal with or should we try to escape once again in search for the expected better one, who maybe never will come along? Possibly we sometimes forget how it feels to be alive and try to make it up for missing you. Somehow missing means nothing but the chosen one is not only a star, but the damn whole sky to ourselves – the one who might be able to change a life by making the one place of being together the place one would rather be.

I would like to quote not one of the famous authors the literal world has seen but one of my most heartily friends by saying that missing is the wish of wanting to put the others dreams in the ones eyes. But what if the other looked into my eyes, saw my heart shatter but hers didn’t? Dreams are illusions but pain is having presence in mind. Somehow we must fight bitterly to protect the roots of our leaves.

Cheers

Lorax

THESE WORDS

Yves Saint Laurent once upon a time told the following phrase to a fashion journalist, who asked him what the perfect dress should look like: The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves. But for those who haven't had the fortune of finding this happiness, I am there. Should this be love? In a down to earth way – maybe. Yves seemed kind of overmodest but expressed contemporarily his deepest thoughts in this great quote. By hiding his own light, no his life he expressed in designing phenomenal pieces of garment, under a bushel only saying that love described in a metaphor of two strong arms is more worth than his central point of his very own life, he puts the love issue upon nearly everything. I ask myself if he ever was that lucky to experience this feeling and will I ever do? How many unreturned love stories do we have to pass through before finding the other half or will we end like the great master of French fashion alone and secluded? Would we be worth less without someone next to us? In fact it seems not a matter of worth but one of the own appreciation. How do we feel by staying alone and are we happier with it? Do we finally need someone who waits for us at night?

Actually I do adore evenings all alone with myself. Today is one of them. Thinking about the love issue more profoundly, while examining all the Nighthawks of this mild night in May sitting next to my window, I had to note, that we lie to ourselves that often concerning our emotional state of mind. That cool and calm folks we would like to get across isn’t exactly what we were made for. We were made for kissing, loving, struggling, crying and maybe it should happen as often as possible simply reminding us that we are besides all of our daily boast still there being able to hear the words we sometimes wait too desperately for. I am sure that regardless how often somebody told us her last goodbye, knowing she can’t come back, these words still stand up. Regardless how often we got disappointed, standing back frustrated and depressed it was and will be that important to have known somebody, who stood by you loving unconditionally, no matter if the story ended up in disbelief.

Love – curtain of the past, revealing an extraordinary future.

Cheers

Lorax

SAME SAME

I am convinced that there is a point in everybody’s entity, in which a deadly stuffiness about the circumstances of life in a city, where everything is already known grows up. Why are we bored that easily from things, that may be even unreachable for many of our fellowmen and why are we that thankless to gather them the best as they are? I had exactly this reasoning the past weekend as I was consternated about the fact, that in a rather sprawling city, like Munich loves to demonstrate itself, it is even not possible to vary among a choice of evening locations satisfactorily – but why? Do we actually have to do things quickly in order to never get bored? Is it really same like same, day after day with the hundredth and identical Carpaccio you will get at every random and more or less fashionable Italian restaurant, or is it ourselves, which are to convenient to creak out of our comfort zones and get new experiences in maybe undiscovered quarters? I mean in an assimilable media world like we rediscover our selves within, we aren’t even capable to define what we want and search for in a rather personal context and often try to escape to a parallel tier, which seems restless simply in order to never be in the tight spot to confront us with our actual needs – or why do you think a phenomenon like metro sexuality is even attainable? But what do we expect? Endless entertainment?

For myself this is a fact to begin with, completely converse. It was gorgeous John Cage, one of America’s most famous composers to state the right words against boredom: If something is boring after two minutes, try it for four. If still boring, then eight. Then sixteen. Then thirty-two. Eventually one discovers that it is not boring at all. Is it our absolute flight instinct detaining us from something new by keeping us from giving things a chance to last?

Later that week the first sights of summer appeared as the sun decided to get finally it’s great revival - those slightly warm days when after a decade of depressing and freezing weather in a never ending winter, the only thing you actually think about when you get up in the morning is to unpack the new pair of Tod’s loafers you bought during a mental derangement on an irritating warm day some when in February. It is always amusing to observe people and their positive changing of mood on such a day by wearing the new Burberry trench, of course some sunglasses or as seen on a few ladies a very optimistic skirt. I decided to pass this phenomenal first day of Italian summer feeling together with some friends on one of Munich’s unfortunately few rooftops to get the first sun burner of the year – it felt like holiday! Recapulating the afternoon rather drunk in my bed later that day I arrived to the conclusion that it must be our very own to shape the every day it doesn’t matter how hard it may get, as a holiday. It stays in our pockets to make our journey a thrilling one – but maybe sometimes it is not the journey, but it is about the destination.

Cheers

Lorax

TWO BODIES - ONE MIND

How many stories do begin with the famous and well-known words once upon a time…? Normally it is even this kind of story literally ending happily; but interpreting them on another level the memories of our childhood may appear on a rather departed context. I mean once upon is part of a time which is actually gone, isn’t it? Talking about friendships, I often get the strange impression, that this social construction between two individuals is even more emotionally instable as the biggest love stories could be and that many friendships we had until now and we will have in the future may possibly have been and be just a further station on our train journey called life, as there is a steadily getting on and off movement.

Maybe friendship is a matter of timing, as one has to know how to react in a certain situation, letting someone hurl into the own destiny and then picking up the shards together. I had even this discussion with a friend of mine as she decided to take some choices I did not agree that much, but I simply let her go her path. As I didn’t react in the to her accustomed manner in habituated situations, things got complicated, as she claimed a stage of friendship, which was absolutely far away from reality. It’s not that I depreciated her value of being close; it is simply another phase of relation between two persons, but what is the real meaning of a friend nowadays? Sometimes I get kind of confused as we use the word friend all too often and mostly not reflected enough. What is the essential about a friend in a world, where there wouldn’t pass a weekend without accepting half a dozen new friends on a social media platform? That was the point where I began thinking about soul mates. Maybe this certain and very profound connection to someone in our environment can explain sometimes better what being a friend should be. Even if I sometimes might have been doubtful about the existence of soul mates I now have to declare for myself consequently: yes, they do – as I recently found a real neighbor of soul in some really random situation at a nightclub. In my very own understanding soul mates must not even know you for years, but you will feel a special connection of trusting each other. No words to be spoke – a simple glance might suffice.

Later in the night, while I was rereading Paulo Coelho’s The Zahir I came across one of those memorable quotes, which coincidentally matched perfectly to my thoughts: When someone leaves, it’s because someone else is about to arrive. Do we truly have limited capacity for friendship? Actually we all should admit that though we might have an amount of acquaintances, true friends are rare; but why are they? Are there really those few mates to be close with, and the rest is simply existent, in order to have a good time? I think I am not in the actual grade of maturity to find an answer to that question, yet.

Friendships never go out of style as your friends are the family you have chosen by your very self and it is still calming, knowing someone walking not in front, not behind but besides yourself. Friendship is a form of love, which sometimes gets even to a deeper understanding of the very other, than a random love affair ever will. It is this strange feeling of safeness, having someone without commitment you can laugh, cry and talk trashy or seriously with, always knowing that you can have honestly confidence into her or him. It is again to trust someone finally, what makes a friend close. I admit that they were and surely will be situations, when I barely lost the whole faith in trusting someone, recognizing that Oscar Wilde was right saying that a true friend stabs you in the front. Seen on a different level this is simply a variation of trust at it goes thus deeply saying, that someone who is really honest in your very presence might only kill you with your full courtesy. Besides the fact that you might be dead afterwards still a polite act, even if you feel the mortal agony for some seconds longer than being dispatched from behind.

When you pass a lot of time with the same person it might be natural, that you will get annoyed of some things you only could know simply out of the reason of a deep friendship. But aren’t it even those little things you may miss the most when they are gone? Maybe we should reconsider some situations before getting to a final decision concerning a specific trying situation with a friend, as they might never be avoided completely. Friends will drop off your train, but fortunately we live in a globalized world – there are airplanes, too.

Cheers

Lorax