Tag Archives: #inspiration

Milky Way

After camping for a few days, we’ve now stopped for a couple days in the beautiful city of Biel. Yesterday was a lovely day of spoiling myself. I took a long, hot bath while listening to Cinemix, had a picnic dinner from Migros (awesome Swiss supermarket!), and went to the pharmacy to get some advice on why the soles of my feet are still hurting like hell…

Turns out, I have an inflammation in my feet. The pharmacist was helpful and seemed super competent. She prescribed some pills and a special ointment. I was a bit relieved to hear that, apparently, I am not especially whimpy, but this happens to rather a lot of hikers whose feet have troubles getting used to carrying the extra weight of the backpack in addition to hiking up and down through the Swiss Jura region. It doesn’t help that there are no cold creeks to hang your feet into in the evening.

Anyhow, the pharmacist recommends that I stop for at least three days to make sure the inflammation is gone, before I continue. I am gutted to be slowed down, but also immensely grateful to finally know why my feet feel like I’ve got half a dozen knives stuck in them.

Dave will continue on with his partner who is due to join us today. I’ll sadly remain behind for now. But I’m planning to continue on the trail by Monday, or Tuesday at the latest. Depends on those two rebellious feet. Fingers crossed!

Being here in Biel with time to think brings back memories. I shop in Migros, in awe at all the delicacies and realize that, while I lived in Switzerland, I probably didn’t appreciate all these little luxuries enough. Even after only one and a half weeks on the trail, my perspective is already shifting. It’s a good thing. Being more aware.

I also think back on the last few years. Life, work, travels. There was so much good. Like the best road trip of my life so far, in 2013, from Zurich to Barcelona and back… all the way along the Spanish coastline, through the South of France, through Monaco, to Cinque Terre in Italy. Then we drove straight north, over the alps, back to Zurich. Driving this entire route for the first time was like a dream. As was experiencing the FINA world championships in Barcelona or deciding spontaneously to go to the opera. Or drinking Sangria in Barcelona’s old part of town. Then we drove on, through landscapes that were ever-changing and magnificent.

I get all nostalgic thinking about life experiences like these and think about how lucky I was to be able to share it all with someone who loved it as much as I did. It’s good to hold on to these memories, to treasure them. Life moves on, forever changing, but certain things remain forever good. Like stars in our firmament, lighting the way for us in harder times.

And, every time we have another profound experience, be it on our own or when we share it with someone who matters to us, we widen our horizon a bit further. We end up adding another star to our own personal Milky Way… making it glow just that tiny bit brighter…

More Sure Than Ever

Whilst on the trail and enjoying each moment as best I can, I still think a lot about what will be. What will the future bring? Will I ever find a job as a stage manager again? So far, I have mostly big show and circus experience. Will circus be reborn? I miss my work backstage. It’s always been so much more than just a job.

As my thoughts run away with me, I tell myself to relax and not dwell on what will be, because we simply don’t know, do we? Best to enjoy the moment and make the most of it, be proactive, use my enforced downtime wisely, and let it lead me to where it leads.

On the trail, I meet so many who inspire me. Like Chriggel the other day, a 14-year old farmer’s boy who goes on hikes even though he has lost his left leg from the knee down and wears a prostheses. He has an awesome sense of humor and told me, “I want one of those new prostheseses they are developing. Those will be sensitive to touch and you can feel when something touches your toe. You can even feel water. Then my dad won’t accidentally run over my foot anymore.” I just looked at him with a big question mark on my face. “Yeah, he backs up the truck to park it, and if I stand too close it happens. And then, I want to walk away but am pinned down, and I need to tell my dad, hey can you back up a little more. You’ve parked on my foot.” We both laughed and he proceeded to tell me, “In a couple years, I want to hike from here all the way to Rotterdam, and then take the ship back on the river Rhine.” Chriggel was full of life and worked hard on the farm, helping his dad. He didn’t seem like he’d ever let anything stop him.

Or then, yesterday, an old man literally ran past us on the trail when it was at its steepest. A little later we caught up with him and got to talking. Fred had hiked over from Lugano in the Italian part of Switzerland which is a couple hundred kilometers away. He was now on his way hiking back home again. He was 72 years old and told us how he used to hike up Mount Everest with his alphorn. And how next year he wants to do the Little Matterhorn and play alphorn at 4000 meters before it is too late. He said, “I am not as fast as I used to be. I used to be able to hike up 2000 meters in 1 hour, now I need 1 1/2.” (At my current pace, I’ll need 4 hours to do that.) After talking with us for 10 minutes, he finished his quick rest and walked away at amazing speed. A minute later, he had already disappeared over the horizon. Oh, and he does his long hikes with only a shopping bag. When I asked him what’s inside he said, “A spare shirt and a bottle of water. It’s all I need.”

Making the impossible possible, stretching the limits, overcoming boundaries… It’s what we do in circus every day, too. And as we do, we bring magic to the world. At the moment, all shows worldwide are closed due to Covid19, but we’ll be back! After meeting Chriggel and Fred, I am more sure than ever.

For now, I’ll try to make a difference for myself by walking and absorbing the many experiences along the way… and I’ll try to make a difference for our circus community by walking for #step4circus. Check out these links if you want to find out more:

Our first trailer on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Msf7rKELYxg

Our website: https://step4circus.com/

Our campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/step4circus

Also, on Facebook, search for Step4Circus and you will find our FB group.

Step4Circus

My buddy Dave and I are walking for #step4circus, an initiative to get circus professionals back to work. Check out our FB group https://www.facebook.com/groups/3081966308566508/?epa=SEARCH_BOX our GoFundMe campaign https://www.gofundme.com/f/step4circus our website https://step4circus.com/ and our first trailer on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Msf7rKELYxg Support us! Take a step!

On The Trans Swiss Trail

I just realized, I haven’t really explained where I’m walking at the moment. I’m on the Trans Swiss Trail which I will follow all the way to its end in Nyon. Then head on towards Geneva and the French border… and then crossing into France and onwards through the Vercours region and through the South of France. Yesterday my friends and I ended up somewhere close to Frohburg and set up our tents on this plateau with a view that isn’t half bad. I’ll need to do some blister maintenance this morning then we’ll see how far we get today. I’m really happy with my gear and thanks so much for all the good advice I received before taking off. Without it I’d be a bit screwed now 🙂. It’s great to start this off with friends. Andrea will stay only one more day. My old buddy Dave is open-end. We’ll see day-by-day how long he wants to tag along. The weather is outright fabulous at the moment. Not too hot but mostly brilliant blue skies. And the Swiss trail system is incredible. Yesterday, I even saw a sign pointing ahead and underneath (on an additional official sign) it said: 300 m along the fence then make a left… ahhh Switzerland, so delightfully quirky and perfectionist 🙂

Beautiful Vistas

Wonderful vistas on the Trans Swiss Trail yesterday. I did just 15 km due to blisters and feet and shoulders hurting quite a bit. Growing pains so to speak :). I’m hopeful that one week from now I’ll already be a bit fitter and in less pain. Yay, can’t wait!

A Discounting Mechanism

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Have any of you seen ‘Where’d You Go Bernadette’? I’ve wanted to watch it for a long time and finally got around to it last night. The intro really hit me , which is why I want to share it here with you:

“Have you ever heard that the brain is like a discounting mechanism? Say, someone gives you a present and it’s a diamond necklace and you open it and you love it. You’re all happy at first. Then the next day it still makes you happy. Although a bit less so. A year later you see the necklace and you think, “Oh, that old thing.”
And you know why your brain discounts things? It’s for survival. You need to be prepared for new experiences because they could signal danger.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could reset that since there aren’t a lot of saber-toothed tigers jumping out at us? Seems like a design flaw that our brain’s default settings signal danger and survival instead of something like joy or appreciation.
I think that’s what happened to my mom. She got so focused on picking up danger signals that her discounting mechanism forgot to see all the good stuff in her life. And maybe Dad had quit seeing the diamond necklace side of mom.”

I pinched the photograph from this interesting article in Architectural Digest https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/whered-you-go-bernadette-movie-production-designer-interview

A new decade, a new year

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Here we are. A new decade, a new year… 

I am finding myself surrounded by the deep blue sea once more. Amazing how life keeps bringing me back to be either on, at, in, or under water. Ultimately, it is where my soul feels the most at home. 

2019 was the worst year of my life so far. I am eternally grateful to let it go and move on. But, as always in times of major trials, 2019 was also one of my best years to date. I learned, I grew, and I was reminded of the deep well of strength, positivity, and passion within me. I was reminded of my capacity to love. And, I was reminded of the massive importance of empathy and compassion. More than ever before, I learned to believe in myself and trust myself. I am happy to be alive. 

Speaking of trust: I received so much loving support from my dear friends around the globe. No matter how much we rest in ourselves, it’s the human connections and caring for each other that make life truly worth living. I am in awe of the wonderful people in my life. Thanks for being there.

2020 is off to a good start. I am managing the beautiful aqua amphitheater on the Oasis of the Seas. I am lucky to work with a great cast and crew and am enjoying every minute we create, and laugh together. Whilst this massive cruise ship brings us from one Caribbean destination to the next, we perform our beautiful show, called Aqua80. It’s a little masterpiece we can be proud of. Driven by 80ies music, it is brimming with great performances, good energy, and soul.

As I am navigating this new challenge, I am keeping an open mind. I don’t know how long I will be here. I don’t know yet if cruise ship life is really for me. What I do know is that I love my job as stage and production manager. And I love seeing the ocean just beyond our theater… a constant reminder of how far the horizons reach. I’ll keep an open mind… about everything… and I’ll see where the universe will take me.

Nanala

2019 cargo container and blue sky

Last week, a friend of mine introduced me to a refugee from Pakistan (to protect her privacy, let’s call her Nanala). We had an unforgettable dinner together.
From the first moment onwards, Nanala struck me as a self-confident, warm-hearted woman. After a while she began sharing parts of her life journey.

Eleven years ago, soldiers had broken down the door of Nanala’s home in Pakistan. They had shot and killed her husband and two of her four children in front of her eyes.
Nanala had managed to escape with her remaining two children. She had gathered a small part of their belongings and managed to get passage on a ship bound for Europe.
Together with four other families, Nanala and her children spent almost two weeks locked inside a container. They had a small supply of dried food, fruits, and water, and some flashlights. Other than that, only a couple of small, round holes in the sides of the container brought a bit of illumination from the outside. Days began to blend into each other. The journey felt endless, the walls were closing in… but, finally, the container ship arrived in a harbor in Greece.

After months of surviving in a refugee camp on a small island, Nanala and her children were transferred to Zurich, Switzerland. There, they lived for many years in yet another refugee camp. Nanala took any job the Swiss authorities allowed her to have, to be able to provide for her family. Her children went to school and adapted well to their new Swiss home.
Nanala had never attended school. She had never learned how to study. When she asked her children to help and teach her, they said, “We are busy with our own lives, Mom. We don’t have time.”
Nanala was only ever hired on an hourly basis. Each time, she was promised that after a year she would be given a contract. She worked hard. Studied. Learned German. But each time, the promise would be broken and she would be let go.
Each time hope reared its head, it was smacked hard again with a whip. Yet, Nanala kept getting back up on her feet. She never gave up.

Nanala’s daughter graduated high school and found an apprenticeship as a dental nurse. During her studies, she began to distance herself more and more from her mother. She never helped financially. After three years, her apprenticeship was over and she found a good job. At the same time, she was given the Swiss passport. From this moment on, she became very hostile towards her mother and pushed her away ever harder. She was ashamed of her mother who had still not been given a resident permit. She didn’t want to be seen as the daughter of a refugee.
Nanala’s daughter even began influencing her younger brother against his mom. He will finish high school soon, and Nanala is afraid. What if he abandons her, too? If he does, she will lose the rest of her family. She will also lose the social housing they have been given by the government.

Nanala has been assigned a new job. She has started work for a company which makes house calls to elderly people who can’t take care of themselves anymore.
That morning, when Nanala cleaned one older lady’s apartment, a spider fell from the ceiling, landed on her face, and bit her in the cheek. A bright red bruise marked the spot.

What struck me more than anything about Nanala was her capacity to love, her emotional intelligence, her dignity, and her beautiful sense of humor. Even during our chat, she kept raising herself back up and vowed to claim her independence and freedom through further hard work and studies. For her own sake, as well as that of her children, she doesn’t want to depend on them. Or on anyone else for that matter.

Even after all that has happened to her, Nanala wasn’t self-absorbed during our dinner, but present, listening to our stories as well as telling us her own.
She cried when she remembered moments of pain and abandonment. At the same time, she was full of enthusiasm at the thought of being able to help other people in her new profession. Rarely have I seen a stronger, more compassionate human being.

Photo by Victoire Joncheray on Unsplash

A Brief History of Cirque du Soleil

If you are interested in stories about theatre shows and the arts, then this might be something for you: I regularly write articles about life in the entertainment arts here on TheatreArtLife.

My latest contribution is perfect for you if you feel like diving headlong into a bit of entertainment history… more specifically: A Brief History of Cirque du Soleil.

It by no means claims to be complete. Rather, I want to take a moment to give a rough overview, to celebrate an entertainment giant which has touched many of our lives throughout its brilliant existence. Simply put, it all began with two men – Guy Laliberte and Gilles Ste-Croix – and their vision.

Ste-Croix jokingly puts it this way: “I always say Guy Laliberte founded Cirque du Soleil, but I founded Guy Laliberte. He’s the father of Cirque. I’m the grandfather.”

Go here to read the full article. Enjoy!

Screenshot 2019-10-02 at 23.27.24

Picture source: @TheatreArtLife

The Jailbreak of Mouse

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The basement was as far away as the darkest corner of the universe. It was a world of nightmares, of prisoners, and hidden dangers. Little five-year old Sam had to take the elevator all the way from the eleventh floor to the second basement level. During the long ride down, he held on to the cold and sticky handrails inside the ancient, rattling contraption. Sam almost choked on layers of stale cigarette smoke. The air felt ever dustier and older, reeking of mildew and decay, as if an entire mountain of his grandma’s oldest shoes was stacked up somewhere behind a wall panel.

When the elevator finally stopped with a jolt, the doors opened into a cold, barely-illuminated space. A large corrugated iron door across the hallway loomed over Sam. It was covered in layer upon layer of scratches. Sam walked towards it. He pulled with all his might. The door was so heavy, his arms felt as if they were wrestling with a guardian of the underworld. Sam’s little biceps straining, he was able to open the door just enough to slip through.

Clang. The door shut behind him.

Next came darkness so complete, it seemed to breathe on its own. Deep, resounding breaths. Not like Darth Vader. More like a swamp thing from the ages. Brooding, foul, camouflaged, and ready to snatch him up in an instant.

Sam’s mind conjured up threats so frightful, he could feel his heartbeat vibrating all the way from his toes to the tingling hair on his scalp. He forced his trembling fingers to feel along the wall and, finally, just as he thought the creatures of his imagination will grab and devour him, he found the light switch. Darkness receded and revealed a seemingly endless corridor with hundreds of doors leading away from it. The walls were a dirty yellow. Some parts even greenish-brown with age. Water dripped from the ceiling, adding the stink of dampness and structural decay to the mix.

Sam’s legs started to shake uncontrollably. He didn’t want to go on. But he had to. He was on a mission. And without him, innocent lives would be lost.

He forced himself to take a first step. A second. A third… The lights went out. Sam lunged towards where he had seen the next light switch on the wall. Breathing hard from the sudden surge of adrenalin, he hit it on the first try.

He pushed on. Passing door after door, Sam kept his eyes everywhere at once. He turned around every few seconds lest giant spiders or slimy monsters sneak up on him. Whilst pirouetting along the corridor and hitting a switch every minute to keep the lights from going out again, Sam also managed to check the dark corners in turn-offs as well as behind open doors.

And he found them… the cages… one by one, just how he had heard the maintenance man describe them to his dad.

Thankfully, the first cage was empty. So was the second. Sam took them in his tiny hands and smashed them against the wall with all the strength he could muster, until they splintered into a thousand pieces. When he came upon the third cage, he saw movement inside. Scared and intrigued at the same time, Sam went closer and saw a ball of fur, the size of a golf ball. Dark eyes gazed at Sam with a glimmer of the same fear he felt. He lifted the cage up gently. The tiny, light brown body, on four delicate, pink legs scuttled as far away from him as the bars of the cage allowed. Whiskers quivered. Wide-open button eyes fixed him with an intense stare.

“Hello there,” Sam said to the little mouse. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll get you out of here. Don’t you worry.”

As Sam turned around towards the exit, the lights went off again, reminding him of where he was. Dragons of terror swooped into his heart. Sam barely managed to not race off in a blind panic. Again, his fingers searched for the nearest switch. He scraped his knuckles, banged his elbow, and almost fell over parts of the broken cages. But he soon felt a square of hard plastic on the wall, instead of a rough, plastered surface.

When the lights came back on, Sam hit the ground running. The hallway seemed to stretch and grow before him as if he was in a nightmare with the exit forever out of reach no matter how fast he ran. When he did reach the iron door after what felt like an eternity, Sam grabbed the door handle with one hand and held the cage tight to his chest with the other. Then, he put his shoulder into it, focusing all his strength.

The lights went out once more just as the door surrendered to Sam’s weight and creaked open. He leapt into the hallway. His heart hammered against the walls of his chest and the bars of the cage, which he still hung on to for dear life. The mouse now looked even more terrified.

The elevator seemed to take ages to get down to them. Sam kept turning around, half expecting to see that imagined giant spider come to life after all, to prevent the little rodent and him from leaving her dark lair. Thankfully, no monolithic arachnids appeared. The elevator arrived. Sam jumped in, pushed the button for the eleventh floor, and breathed out deeply for the first time since he had set out on his journey.

Arriving at his floor, sunshine flooding through large hallway windows, Sam let himself into his family’s apartment, his new friend and protégé still firmly secured under his arm.

They spent the whole afternoon together, during which Sam tried to convince the little mouse with cheese, tuna, salad, and even vanilla pudding, that he had the best intentions. After a while, he played Beethoven on the stereo. When that didn’t work either, he tried Rihanna. The mouse did seem to relax slightly when Sam played some tunes from the Backstreet Boys. Mostly though, it huddled in a corner of the cage. Frozen. Listening intently. His eyes never leaving Sam’s.

“What’ve you got there?” Sam’s dad asked when he got home from work.

“It’s my new friend, Dad. His name is Mouse. I saved him from that awful basement downstairs and we’re going to look out for each other from now on.”

Sam’s dad eyed the fear-stricken rodent. Then he came closer and sat down next to Sam on the floor. “So you went down there all on your own?”

“Yes, I did Dad. It was horrible.”

“Well, I’m not sure the maintenance guy is going to be happy when he finds out you interfered with his mouse project. We’ll try and keep it a secret. Don’t go down there again though, ok?”

“But Dad,” Sam said, “It’s not a project. He is putting mice in prison. Look how scared Mouse is.”

“That’s the thing though Sam. Have a look. Does Mouse look happy to you, huddled in the corner of his cage like that?”

“Not really.” Sam had to admit. “But he is going to be my best friend and I’m going to take good care of him.”

“I believe you will,” his dad said, “but he is a wild mouse, used to take care of himself. If you truly want to do something good for him, then we should release him somewhere nice. Think about it, ok? We can talk more in the morning.”

Sam’s dad left his son’s room. Sam watched him go, then focused his attention back on Mouse. Sam felt lost, unsure of what to do. He wanted to do the right thing like the heroes of his adventure stories. The Avengers would never have kept anyone with them against their will. Sam kept thinking. He brought Mouse ever more delicious presents. He even offered to share a late-night chocolate Mars bar with him. But Mouse never moved.

In the morning, Sam and his dad took Mouse for a ride. Passing by in their car, they looked at streets, meadows, farms, and woods, wondering where their little survivor would be most happy. Had Sam separated Mouse from his family? Had he divorced a cute Mrs. Mouse from her husband by uprooting him from the cellar? Or did Mouse have a boyfriend or even husband? Could mice be gay, too? Was Mouse even male? Sam had assigned him a name and gender, but who knew…

For a moment Sam and his dad had considered just letting Mouse out in the cellar. But they didn’t want him captured again. They wanted to give him the best possible chance to start over and roam free.

After an hour of scouring the neighborhood, they stopped in the fields surrounding their town. Sam gently placed the cage on the ground. Since he had found him, Mouse had never moved from his chosen corner. If not for his constant, slight quivering, he could have easily been mistaken for a toy or the world’s smallest statue. Sam opened the cage door. He quietly retreated a few feet, waiting for Mouse to make his move. Sam’s dad stood by silently.

Mouse remained rooted to the spot. What was going through his head? Did he fear they were luring him into a trap? Was the sudden promise of freedom just as terrifying as being captured had been? Or did he sniff for familiar scents and, finding none, wondered if they would bring him back to familiar grounds if he just waited long enough?

After a while, Sam could see Mouse stirring. It was almost imperceptible, a twitch of his hind legs, a slight swivel of his ears, a tremor rippling through the fur on his back. Seconds later, Mouse shot out of his cage like an Olympic sprinter on steroids. One moment he was there. The next he was gone. No stirring underbrush. No sound. Nothing. Just gone.

Sam hugged his dad’s left leg like a mini-octopus hanging on to a coral block for dear life to avoid getting lost in ripping current. Whilst hanging on, he cried a little.

Sam was sure Mouse’s adrenalin was pumping as he ran through dense jungles of grass. He was running towards the edge of the woods in the distance, with their promise of acorns and berries. Most likely, he was tearing through fallen leaves on the way, breaking the sound barrier as he went through them, scattering them in all directions, thus releasing the strong scents of fertile earth and decomposing leaves. Each leaf a memory from the tree it once belonged to. It was a good life Mouse was hurrying to. Or maybe it wasn’t. In the grander scheme of things, it didn’t matter. What was important was he was free again and able to make his own choices.

Photo by André Sananoon Unsplash