This blue marble

– and yet it spins

Tag Archives: thoughts


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Headspace on the Azure Coast

RivieraThere is a reason for why the French Riviera is also called the Côte d’Azur, or the Azure Coast. And there is a reason for why so many late 20th century painters like Renoir, Picasso, Chagall, Matisse, Monet, and even Norwegian Munch, all stayed there – or moved there. I wish they would have had the delight of seeing the azure waters from the air.

I am not a painter, simply someone in dire need of a brain break and some girly time with a dear friend. A walk along the Antibes wall will do.

As I walked along the windy coast, I could not help but wonder how easy it is to be petty-minded and swirl down the vortex of “oh no, I missed that deadline” and “oh no, I still have not replied to X or done Y, what will they think of me?”. In the end this is all egoistic thinking: the company does not fall if I miss a deadline or don’t send an email. Nobody probably gets into trouble if I don’t complete a task in time. The company and most of my colleagues don’t really care about me in their daily lives. Sure it is great to have me around, and hopefully my leadership and productivity is beneficial, but should I leave (or die) nobody would miss me longer than for a week. At work, nobody is indispensable and nothing is really about me even if I’d like to think othewise.

Because our lives are usually all about “me, me, me”, we corner ourselves with expectations and are usually our own worst critics. The lunacy is only revealed once we step back (and take a brain break for example on the French Riviera).

With all the headspace and air around me I could not help but think of the Japanese proverb: “nothing in life is as important as gardening – and even that is not important.”
Antibes(Antibes / Juan-les-Pins, France; May 2016)


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Interlude

Cassandra-2Our world requires us to constantly know and to feel. It pushes us to question and to process. We must remember, analyze, and accept. Or resist, and act. Each moment we must take a stand, armed with thoughts, feelings, and information. But there are short parentheses where we simply Are, in that space beyond knowing and remembering, between feeling happy and feeling sad. These are the moments when we forget that we have a body in this world, and where things are much simpler.

Mostly this happens when we are in a deep, dreamless sleep. Or when we experience a deep meditative state. My four-legged Zen master knows how it can be done in a wake state. I am convinced I can do it, too, without growing fur and a tail.Cassandra(Helsinki, Finland; April 2016)


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If the sky were yellow

stockholmairOn the ground our world might seem green like the deep green spruce forests. It might be a burnt ochre like the Saharan desert, or yellow, like the fields in August. But seen from the outside, our world is blue. Blue like the sky – even if one is in the sky looking down at the world. So perhaps, then, it is the sky that is blue, between us and the world?

From the stratosphere, our marble is blue because of the sunlight that scatters in the oxygen- and nitrogen-rich sky. If we had more sulphur in the sky our marble would be yellow like Venus – but we would not be able to breathe, at least not with our current physiology.

Yellow is the color of the sun, energy, and joy. It is also the color of warning, both in traffic and on a wasp. Whereas blue is calming, quieting, and heart-rate lowering, like the constant sky and sea. But what if we lived on Venus? Would we then be conditioned to feel calm, secure, and at peace when surrended by yellow?

Random thoughts in the stratosphere above Stockholm on an April evening.

(Stockholm, Sweden; April 2016)


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The baseline: about selfish fears

oregon-10What is your greatest fear? Is it the fear of losing someone you love? Losing your health? Losing something else? Being alone? Dying?

These are all valid fears. We may feel alone with those fears, but we are not. The rest of the world shares them with us. And yet there seems to be a different degree of nobility to some fears: when we are asked the question, what is our greatest fear, do we not have a fleeting thought of considering what our answer may sound like? “What if I pick the wrong fear?” “What if I do not answer with a fear that involves a loved one, but only myself – is my fear a selfish fear?” It is not easy to face our fears, and facing them is definitely not made easier by a strong feeling of having to fit the mold at the same time.

While it may be noble that one’s greatest fear involves the wellness and presence of a loved one, the essence of fear is nothing more but the inborn will to stay alive. Thus the essence of fear is already a selfish emotion. Fear is also the resistance of change, to our survival and benefit.

My greatest fear is, and has always been, a deep and selfish fear. I am afraid that one day I will wake up as if from a hazy dream, and realize that twenty years have passed and I have nothing to show for it. That I did not even notice them passing, one by one. That I wasted precious time in which I could have made some tangible results, not only careerwise but also towards other people and our planet; that I did not live each day fully and did not explore our world; and that I would have no clear-distilled memories of great times and great learnings. That I simply had existed but not lived.

Fortunately this fear is one that can be availed. Truly living each day is a decision best made every morning of every day. I find that when one does it properly it is a tough decision to make, a little like a challenging yoga pose: one can either try to superficially resemble the correct form, or one can get down and do the work properly, no matter how inadequate it makes one feel.

Through the years I have developed what now seems to have become a mantra. If you share my fear, perhaps you benefit from sharing my mantra, too. The short version is: “live today”. The long version goes:

(Still your mind.
Remember to breathe. Then say to yourself:)
Today I choose to live this day.
I choose to live it by my highest sense of right.
I choose to experience what comes my way.
Om shanti. Peace be in our universe.

oregon-9(Photos from the Oregon coast, USA; March 2010)


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Between the magnolias and the Misérables

londonaboveLondon, it’s been three weeks and how I missed you! I missed circling around the city in the morning light, almost looking in through the Queen’s bedroom window, and almost hitting the Shard with an airplane wing. I missed having sushi for lunch down Oxford street, and I missed the crazy traffic and even crazier cabbies. I missed the morning rush in the tube where nobody elbows and everybody is Sorry and I never have to carry my suitcase up or down the stairs by myself if don’t wish to. londonspringThis St Patrick’s Day is pink, not green. Magnolias galore, even off Piccadilly. While most people were mainly occupied with where to find green beer, I occupied myself with Les Misérables, along with a theater full of teenagers and university students. Even the miserable lives of Victor Hugo’s characters were glamorous – although nobody wore much pink.

As I walked back to the hotel, pushing through the St Pat’s celebration throngs in Theatreland and Soho, I thought of the infinitesimal likelihood that I would be born into a world where I can admire magnolias, see musicals, and have dinner in a European city any time I wish. Had somebody thrown the dice again I would most likely have been born into a life not very far from the Les Misérables scenes. Or perhaps I have been, on multiple occasions, during other lifetimes? Perhaps this lifetime is the exception, unless I work very very hard towards becoming a better being?

As I crossed Piccadilly on my way out towards Green Park, I resolved to try harder to be grateful, even when I mostly would feel like being miserable. Because even my most miserable day is probably a dream-come-true to another person.

Ingratitude is the dark side of adaptability: we humans constantly recreate our zero-point of reference by weighing it against our surroundings. We adapt, because otherwise we would not stay alive. And when we adapt, we forget that our gratitude should be weighed against an absolute scale, not one that moves along with our ever-changing aspirations and subjective setbacks.

I walked underneath the pink magnolias again and in the dark they were as gray as the rest of London. I sincerely hoped that, as evolution pushes the human species further towards greater challenges that require adaptability, gratitude would not become an extinct trait. lesmiserables(London, United Kingdom; March 2016)


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Enjoying the silence

RamsescassandraLovely ones, apologies for the silence. You see, when this blog is silent it is because I struggle to find the time to be silent. And at the moment I also struggle to find enough capacity in my ancient MacBook to do anything else than surf on the internet.

This winter is a tough one, tougher than in years. Perhaps it has been the cold, and the snow; or perhaps it is my work schedule and countless of hours spent in airports, or simply the countless meetings with strangers, trying to appear smart and present.

While some have to work, others have to enjoy life. To each their own burden. Cats are masters of mindfulness and so was Hamlet: to be or not to be; that is the question. There is never anything in-between. But trying to be present at every moment is an exhausting practice unless one masters the way of detachment. And I have a long way to go.

What about you?

(Helsinki, Finland; February 2016)


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This blue marble: is it all emptiness after all?

saleve-4

For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of
dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece
of straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:
existence, emptiness, mountain, straw: words
and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.

(Rumi)

We slipped quietly in, sat dow on the cushions, and listened to the chanting monk. And I found myself unable to close my eyes; the snow-capped mountains and fluttering prayer flags were too beautiful a sight. How can one sense emptiness with eyes open and filled with beauty?saleve-3   (Shedrub Choekhor Ling monastery, Saléve, France; January 2016)


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101 things in 1001 days

101goals-1Continuing the streak of more personal notes and the conundrum that each new year poses us. Ever tried to make a New Year’s resolution that failed? Ever wished you could do this and try that and go there – without any of the wishes ever coming true? Why do we spend more time dreaming than making dreams reality? Why do we speak of wishes “coming true” instead of “being made true”?

Sometimes it can be much quicker to make a dream come true than dreaming of it – especially if it comes to sending out that dinner invite or booking that flight or concert ticket.

Last spring I spent my nights coloring a coloring book. I also went to the Helsinki Music Center, had an Indian head massage, and finally went to the French Riviera. During this year I have managed to realize my dream of practicing yoga on Bali, of spending a weekend at a spa by myself, and going through my wardrobe. The challenge is called 101 things in 1001 days and is the core of the Day Zero Project.

My list is far from done – but it’s a good start for the first year. Having a list is certainly not the only way to experience new things, but I hope I can inspire you to start realizing your dreams and goals instead of just dreaming of them. Here are mine marked as “done”, one year in:

  1. Host a board games night
  2. Learn to knit socks
  3. Spend a rainy day watching films in my PJ’s
  4. Spend a weekend at a spa by myself
  5. Make jam
  6. Travel to New England
  7. Crochet a quilt
  8. Find a career mentor
  9. Get an Indian head massage
  10. Install a mirror in the hallway
  11. Have a hot stone massage
  12. Go back to Kathmandu
  13. Read my old journals
  14. Clean out my wardrobe
  15. Go to the French Riviera
  16. Complete a coloring book
  17. See a performance at the Helsinki Music Center
  18. Hire a cleaning maid
  19. See a play at the Shakespeare Globe Theatre in London
  20. Find a penpal and write real letters
  21. Eat at a Korean restaurant
  22. See a Broadway musical in London
  23. Read all moomin books
  24. Practice yoga on Bali
  25. Make candles
  26. Get in touch with 2 old friends

+ about 15 other things in progress, such as joining Earth Hour every year, learning how to make limoncello, going to the dentist every year, and paying off my study debt.

Life is not a rehearsal. You are the star of your show, every day, regardless of whether you are up for it or not. Trust me, the past few years I have mainly not been up for it. Yet life has happened anyway. It tends to do that, every day.

Stop dreaming. Start doing. And do kindly let me know if I inspire you to make a list of your own – so I can mark yet another goal as “done”!101goals-2 (Helsinki, Finland; January 2016)


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Intended and unintended goals of 2015; or looking backward before looking forward

lookingbackDo you believe in New Year’s resolutions? I do not. I personally never seem to be able to keep them. A year is too short and there are so many things I want to do that I never seem to manage to keep track of just a few. And life happens, too. Priorities shift. But more about my alternative to resolutions in another post. Today let’s talk about what did happen during 2015. What was planned, and what was not planned, but improvement nonetheless. And so, in spirit of looking backward before looking forward, here are a few things that I made come true during last year:

  1. I went from vegetarian to 95% vegan.
    I have been mainly vegetarian since I was 15 years old. At home I never eat fish but I may choose fish in a restaurant or tell friends who cook for me to prepare fish just because it makes things easier. On Bali I ended up eating vegan food (mainly raw or Indonesian) for 3 weeks just because that was the main fare – and realized what digestion should feel like when you can’t feel it. It was when I got back home and added dairy to my diet that I noticed the difference. I switched from milk to almond milk, from coffee milk in my tea to soy milk prepared for barista use, and left out yoghurts and the occasional pudding. Cheese is the only thing I refuse to quit – but I eat it perhaps once a month only.
  2. I tried Gwyneth Paltrow’s detoxes – and found I loved the food.
    I don’t believe in the concept of detoxes or cleanses – but I do believe in resetting one’s digestive system, portion size, and eating habits. Paltrow’s detox recipes are expensive on the wallet, at least here in Finland, but I found many new favorites that I incorporated into my cooking, such as kale, nutritious smoothies for breakfast, and creative lunch salads.
  3. I found a yoga shala abroad.
    I love my yoga teacher here in Finland. She is a direct student of Sharath Jois, the lineage holder of ashtanga yoga. Yet sometimes it is good to have a second view – and a reason to travel to an awesome place. Prem Carlisi’s and Radha Duplex’s shala in Ubud, Bali, felt just right. A second view was highly useful to help construct a practice suited for a recently injured knee. And well – Bali is absolutely fabulous. I aim to go back in 2016.
  4. I aimed to be more assertive as a leader.
    My family may laugh, but at work I often get the feedback that I am too nice. In the whirlpool that was last year, juggling two jobs and a drug launch, a budget with risk swings in the millions, and 4 countries to lead, I was pushed against the wall to become more sharp in my leadership and succinct in communicating. I think I managed, without becoming unkind. It was a revelation to receive positive feedback from people about how they in fact liked being challenged.
  5. I took the next step in my career and in moving abroad again.
    I was not supposed to stay in Finland for more than 2 years. It has now been over 4 years. Every time I visited London I would sigh and ask myself why, oh why have I not moved back already? So far I have let things happen at their own pace, but in November 2014 I made it clear to my London colleagues that I wanted a job in their office. Only thing was, London office wants me to stay in the Nordics. So now I report to London and consider them my main team, but I still live in the Nordics. I hope the next step in a year or two will be to move back to the UK. Time will tell but I will keep working on this.

Look back before you look forward. It is so easy to ignore one’s accomplishments and only remember failures, as well as focus on new goals. 2015 is closed. How did you live its 365 days?

(Helsinki, Finland; January 2016)


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Freedom in an unfree world

paris-1Fear is a strange thing. Once we are frightened and shocked beyond our bearings we have a choice: to flee, or to fight. Yet most of us take the middle road and just get on with it. Like nothing ever happened – or so it would appear.

On the evening of November 13th this year, Paris was shocked and attacked by terrorists. People died. Others got wounded. And very many got shaken to the core. Yet few people fled as a result. Even fewer chose to openly fight – except of course for France as a country and Paris as a city. Most people just got on with it, because life goes on. Nobody forgot, but nobody allowed terror to reign. Just like London, grown up during 31 years of terror threat.

One Sunday, three weeks later, we sat in a Parisian café on Rue Montorgueil. Croissants were still being served, and steaming hot coffee poured. The marchés were open, and Champs-Élysées was one mile-long christmas market. I thought of how we had to walk through metal detectors when entering a museum. How our bags were scanned before entering a shopping center. And how many heavily armed military men were prowling the streets.

I thought about flight and fight. While most Parisians did not chose flight, perhaps they chose a French way of fight. Perhaps choosing to serve croissants on a Sunday was fight, as well as choosing to open the christmas market? Perhaps going shopping to a bustling Les Halles was fight? Perhaps persisting to the plan of hosting the climate summit was fight?

Perhaps fight is not always a physical fight; to draw one’s weapons and go to battle. Maybe fight can also be the fight of minds: to refuse to fear those cultures we are against our will being conditioned to dread; to refuse to change everyday habits; to refuse to give in to fear. And I thought of Albert Camus: “the only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

I lifted my teacup in a toast to the Parisians. When I picked up my croissant I, too, felt like a rebel – if only for a second.

paris-2(Paris, France; December 2015)