LOST WORDS

Do we lose some words over a certain period of time? All those simple phrases like humanity’s most famous one I love you and are we actually able to find them again by letting a bolt of bravery release them from the deepest of our hearts? Isn’t it about words coming along with us even the longest road in life expressing that, what we want and what we should – and our souls in a steady conflict with our rationality because of the one person we literally are not? Words we lived and maybe will, waiting for all those gorgeous days.

In the end lost is lost or should we get an exalted understanding of losing things, paraphrasing it with hidden? The ludicrous character of losing our words is that we actually lose ourselves. One metaphoric lost star, still in that ridiculous belief being one of a kind between a million but never even able to shine brighter then the rest.

And time runs.

So what should we search for among this mega-lie of free men who are nothing but slaves of their own profit? Love? Dreams? Luck? Maybe we shouldn’t forget that losing a part of us means a piece of ourselves is gone and instead of searching ideals of romantic imagination we might be better off getting our fucked up soul back together by facing our struggles. So why not starting to care about things again instead of standing the curios but somehow fashionable idea of giving a shit? What we mustn’t forget is that you don’t love someone for their looks, or their cloths or for their fancy cars, but because they sing a song only you can hear – so our old friend Oscar.

What he doesn’t say is who sings this song. Maybe someone, maybe ourselves or maybe the certain sunrise giving us every new day the chance to find out exactly that: Who are we? So why not loving a bit more in hope for better times - they won't be perfect, but pure.

Cheers

Lorax

AND THEN A HERO COMES ALONG

Suddenly he is there. The hero you were searching this long for. It may happen in an unexpected moment some time more or less bothering and he will make your life even only for instant that better. Who are our heroes today? The coffee shop guy smiling at you morning by morning giving you a positive start to your weekday, your best friend helping you out with some cash at the end of the month or a person coming to your life in a moment you didn’t want him to. Someone taking your fears, carrying on, simply surviving – like the very first summer wind coming up before the big thunderstorm guiding tears to rain. I am sure that there are lights to direct you home and those lights are your heroes. Could it be worse? Even if that light is missing it may be there just digging for the greater good, just because a hero is the one who he is.

So what is it about whether winning or losing, actually a key question for every hero to solve. Is it worth playing by knowing to lose or is it just about being brave 10 minutes longer? Is it a solution never to play? For my own understanding a hero can never be right as the one who gets protected is the one to decide about black or white. But don’t we all have to deal with our cursed stories to make it real at the end? Can we really be broken and do we really need someone with the literal helping hand? A quote I came across last week challenged even this question: Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it’s at the end of your arm. So why not follow the signs right back to yourself? At the end it may not only be all about one and we must get the point that sometimes a hero can be inevitable, maybe simply because our hand isn’t that strong enough and we are lost along the way not longer able to read those signs. That might be the moment we will need somebody who is looking out for us but what if we are standing at the crossroads with even no strength to run and we can do nothing but stretch our arm and beg to hitchhike? Is there hurry anymore and who’s to blame for our poor situation? Oneself being a hopeless dreamer or our hero not even bothering to show up? Sometimes we just have to wait for the moment our road leads us down the way showing us that the only solution is to be the hero by oneself giving up the idea of remaining the one who needs to be cared for.

These are hard times for dreamers and nevertheless we must remember: anything is possible.

Cheers

Lorax

THE NIGHT OF DESIRES

Roundabout 1700 years ago Saint Lorenzo was martyred to death by the reigning roman emperor and till today the tears he cried to save the poor are seen as fiery shooting stars on the sky in the middle of august, so the Italian fairytale. Nevertheless people around the world and especially in Italy still see these special nights round the 10^th of august as great opportunity to make a wish with every single shooting star they luckily catch the sight of. My mum taught me this very special tradition and until today, it doesn’t matter where I am located I take the time and wait for the star rain. I never got the particularity of this night, as some might see it as every other one, but although it fills myself with a feeling of sentimentality. You may ask how can we even demand for a wish in a world we might own everything we could imagine, but in this special case it isn’t about materiality. It is about the emotion we get by confronting ourselves with the question of what we really want and maybe need. A certain kind of keeping things elementary.

The most special attribute of this night are the reactions of my friends I get back by remembering them to watch the sky. It is exactly therefore we make those wishes – to get some kind words and thoughts back to oneself, like the flying stars finding their route back home. We might say we have everything we desire, but I don’t like restricting the thought of a unique night to the basic needs. Sometimes I get the impression that we forget among all our sorrows on highest level, what it means to appreciate and be appreciated – I don’t see the necessity of suffering, because there isn’t any.

Tonight I would like to thank all those inspiring girls and boys around me, who maybe never get to know that they are and will be my very personal muses making every single of my nights to a memorable one. All those wishes flying down to earth tonight are yours – just catch them and maybe make a wish for me as well.

Thank You

Lorax

THAT'S ALL

For a friend who is afraid to be forgotten

Summer will always remain a thing people can't get at all. Totally overwhelmed by some hot feeling lying next to a lake at a place in the middle of nowhere, the hottest day of the year leaves the question of was that all? Was that our summer experience 2013 and how can the refreshing summer wind simply be the first forerunner of autumn leaves? Is our summer wind friend the one holding our hand when autumn clusters us back to our warm apartments remembering those gorgeous nights out in the heated city? Somehow the summer wind is a symbol of forgetting, passing through and in its own way of lost experience. I wonder why we forget things that easily. We feel our life on our skin like this gentle breeze but keep the feelings rather scarce – the question left remains why?

In most cases forgetting may help us to survive. If we would remember every horrible day we had to get through we probably would kick the bucket faster as we could shop the best sale item, before getting knocked down by our fashion rivals. Nevertheless we may even forget who we are and where we come from by forgetting all those great stories, people and places we were connected with somewhere in our history. Some call it life, letting things go their own way and still I would claim, that forgetting isn’t the way to get through with ourselves as we always fix things rather intense in our memories the more we want to forget it. Are we really happy by forgetting ourselves or is it more a kind of fighting for displacement? A basic instinct? Somewhere in the corner of our minds we surely aren’t that blind and may store all those attitudes, which helped us to become what we are even if we somehow don’t want to have them with us – but they are our records and one out of a range of reasons building our personality. I actually can’t decide if we should forget or better memorize, as life always teaches us no matter how somebody may have harmed us. So maybe things will only leave and let us be if we don’t forget them. It’s like an assurance they demand from by telling us, that if they thought we would forget them they will never cut down. That’s all.

One thing is certain. Next year our moody friend the summer wind will come back remembering us with poor compassion all those things we might have forgotten over the year and that will make us laugh again – and as we all know laughing helps to forget, at least for a few seconds.

Cheers

Lorax

MAKE A WISH

For a true friend

When the magic wears off, reality will still be here and you have to deal with it. Epic moments in life seem to be rare, but why are they? The most situations we have to deal with should get the label epic as we still talk about our daily entity. When we give up the magic in ourselves nothing we ever worked for seems to have any right of existence anymore, but what is it about letting magic enter our lives? I am talking about those moments we suddenly brake out of a daily cluster and let the cold wind lead us to some speechless adventures we might never have experienced out of our natural phlegm.

I am observing a couple at my favorite bar for some weeks now. I am not sure if they are still dating or simply passing their evenings together in a more fashionable location than their proper residence might be, but what I know is, that their reunions seem to take place on a very intimate and quite magic level as they seem to descend in their very own world, with all this pulsing life of a Friday night around them vanishing to the dark. It is the way they look and talk to each other, what makes this weird kind of scene magical. I ask myself if reality will overtake them the moment they cross the doors back again to this cold spring. Anyhow I have the impression from time to time, that the magic I am talking about is still a kind of hideaway we curtain ourselves behind by establishing some fictional world for some hours. Is magic a sort of lie pretending to be the truth?

Magic encounters us more often we actually would believe, but what we never really want to face is what would happen when the magic is gone.

Later that week someone decided to stop the never-ending rain, giving the sun the chance for a comeback. While enjoying the very first summer evening on the steps of the opera house the magic of a whole city overwhelmed me in a rather unusual way. On the one side the moment of a town falling asleep in the dawn, on the other side the thought, that nothing lasts forever. Summer returns every year no matter how bad and sad we might have lived through the days before its final breakthrough. It is sort a outlandish that there is and will always be this deep wish inside of ourselves, getting things the way we certified them, even if they aren’t meant to be alike. Is this even a wish we should and could make? Are wishes meant to last or do they reflect a small sequence of our thoughts and emotional condition? Where stays the magic of a profound wish if it isn’t planned to stay with us? Maybe we all must learn and accept to be broken up with something just to get a better state of mind for our surrounding world and us. How can we even care for our wishes if we cant care? Is it allowed to make wishes in a dishonest way? Somehow we should again face reality and remind that a breakup also in a wishes context, isn’t always that bad. It may hurt but maybe it is the only way. In the end Oscar Wilde was right by telling us that divorces are made in heaven, so maybe we should start to step beside our daydreams and let reality be real.

But even if reality will only start to care when we are gone, why should we adjust our dreams and wishes? Divorces may be a celestial phenomenon but if our dreams wont scare us out of a reason of sense, they aren’t big enough.

The sky might be the limit – not for our dreams.

Cheers

Lorax

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SUN, SEA & SUNGLASSES

There seem to be a few fixed dates during the year in which the whole world wants to board the next flight to the very same destination. The highly fashionable island Sylt in the middle of the German northern sea is the hotspot of more or less every socialite during the Pentecost holidays, turning to a certain kind of Disney World for adults for a weekend only. The funny thing about this scattershot get together is that nearly everything takes places on an area of roundabout 5 km², compared to the most central areas of it doesn’t matter which city the groundwork for coincidences. Coincidences – are they real or again a consequence of decisions we take? It is weekends like the bespoke, which let me muse about how it is even possible to hit exactly the folks we would or even not would like to see more than once within 48 hours. Is it really that difficult to avoid the one who broke your heart or your archenemy among beach parties, dinner invitations and clubbing? Obviously it is, so maybe this might be the reason why everybody on the island wears sunglasses in the dark.

I guess coincidences are those strange things between science and fate we have to accept for ourselves as those, we can’t control anymore, like the rough sea, we actually cant swim in. I mean what would sometimes have happened, if we chose in an instant to go the complete opposite direction. Would we have met someone special earlier and what are coincidences meant to be for our road of life? Are they actually comparable to destiny or might this be a something too spiritual view for deciding a path to be gone or not? Maybe it is even the point in which we have to stop worrying about the what-ifs and the should-haves in order to stay clear in mind. Nevertheless it confuses me, how it might be possible to meet someone perfectly unknown in front of a night club, the next day at the same restaurant for breakfast, afterwards at the same house party and to top it all on the same plane back home. I mean, OK. Space is limited – but suchlike? Where do coincidence and destiny meet and are those simple constructs siblings in mind or distant relatives?

While I was resting a bit at the beach from a running and rather excessive party the whole collective looked forward to on Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t resist of thinking about coincidences over and again. Basically they seem to be nothing but a consequence of choices and choices are and will stay the frame of showing, which person we really are far more than our abilities ever will. Do we have a choice? I often had those moments in life asking myself what would have happened if I chose in a situation differently before? Surely I wouldn’t be settled in life where I find myself now but maybe I would have done the one or the other more exotic and freaky thing. Moving to Berlin for my studies was one of them for example. Obviously it is better doing something than doing nothing. Being stuck is even worse than getting the wrong direction, even if I maintain the point of view that a wrong could not be possible in life-choices. Everything might be for some reason and even if we cannot realize it for the very moment, I can’t leave the feeling that sometimes I could have done better for my very own. I am and will still reach for something greater, better, more fashionable, and waiting maybe for a further moving by accident enabling it.

Maybe it is again an issue of sunglasses – by taking them off we might find the coincidences we were meant for somehow easier by clearing our visibility, but why should we take them off, when we could find our sunshine somewhere else?

Cheers

Lorax

FEEL IT

Call it crazy – while I was walking home from a totally random evening through the first summer rain with my new Saint Laurent sunglasses on at 2.30 am, I was holding on for some minute, simply to feel this very special drops of water flowing down my skin. I felt the rain. This first forerunner of some steamy, hot days in July smelled like fresh and new life – the heated asphalt, the dry soil getting wet and fulfilling the city with a gorgeous scent of summer. So I was standing in the middle of somewhere in this city, as some issue came up my mind: why do we always have to run? I mean literally rain by itself is the best example showing us, that we are hardly able to sustain even the mightily simplest situations without running. Is it again a primary instinct everyone is with or are we always trying to break out of something, somebody supposes us to stand inside?

To get craziness a bit further I sat down on a park bench, to watch people chasing through the night and escaping the wet weather. Running might be actually one of the rather few things people are still capable to do perfectly it does not matter where or when. For some, the special something our lives hold back for us will never be even attainable, as they find themselves on a steady marathon from one stage to the next: High School – College – Job – Career – Death. Where is the space for some experience left? When do we ever have the fortune to get what we want ourselves to be?

A rather wise man once gave me great advise by telling me: Darling. Stay young as long as you have the chance to be – than this is the only and single time in your life, in which your experiences are still able to form you and your style. What if every single raindrop I felt during this night represents some piece of experience and what if I would simply rush through the summer storm, driven by the basic thought of being successful some when in my future thereness? What if I would miss every single of that drops, because I thought of something pathetically more important? If I run right now, will I be happy at an age of forty-something or will I finally decide to run away to live a life I always wanted to? Running again? Tragic, as we often even cannot recognize, that it stays basically in our hands to pattern a life the way we want it to be, ahead a view of expectations. Maybe we should start to feel the rain, instead of getting wet.

Cheers

Lorax

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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