My boys are teaching me – among a lot of things – one important thing: being open.

Being open for new experiences, new people, new places, new tastes, new colors, new feelings.

For example, I’ve never dreamt of going fishing, cleaning fishes and cooking them. And when you open our fridge right now, you find living mealworms. Thanks, Big Boy.

Or I didn’t have any experience in my childhood with playing with legos. But it feels satisfying lying on the floor of the living-room and putting together a VW bus of at least 10’000 pieces.

Or I wasn’t the typical game player when I was younger. But now I’m spending hours by playing Uno or Rummikub with Little Boy.

Being open isn’t an easy thing to do. But it gives me much more in return. And there will be more experiences in the future I’ve never dreamt of. I’m sure and open.



Switch for silence

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Sitting at the lake and trying to bring calm into my body.

No way. Head is working.

Where is the switch?

Thinking of the yoga teacher and remembering a yoga posture.

Body in quiet pose, head trying to concentrate on the breathing.

Head rotating. Not finding the switch for the breathing.

Giving up. Feeling the bad weather in my head, looking at the lake and accepting that total silence isn’t possible at the moment.

Never mind. Will be trying another time.

Traveling at home


Everybody is gone: my boys on a cruise with their father, some friends in the States, in Greece, France, Italy and so on and on.

I am traveling in my mind.

I was again a student, hanging around at the river in Zurich discussing with my friends about Heidegger or Derrida, smoking my own made cigarettes and drinking red wine.

Or I met there a man I was very fond of and him as well of me, but he didn’t want to leave his girlfriend. She didn’t mind him seeing me from time to time. I couldn’t agree with this setting.

Or I remember how I was sunbathing there at the riverside on Sunday afternoons, reading heavy books and searching hard for an intelligently looking young man to talk to.

I spent many summers there, trying out different relationships. But my summer feeling kept always to be the same, and it came back when I visited this place a few days ago.




Being two

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Having feelings.

Feeling loved.

But there is no space to be.

There is no space for love.

Feeling squeezed.

What stays are memories.

Memories of being in one world.

Having one future.

Being meant for each other.

Being one by two.


Conversation between brothers: Scene 4

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Dinner table at 18.31 p.m.

Big boy:         “Which movie shall we watch tonight?”

Little boy:     “Do you think Mom will allow us this?”

Big boy:         “Sure. She already agreed.”

Little boy:     “I didn’t hear it.”

Big boy:         “She will certainly say yes. I know.”

Little boy:     “Last week-end she said: no movies anymore.”

Big boy:         “Come on. She was angry with us.”

Little boy:     “Yes. I know.”

Big boy:         “She will change her mind.”

Little boy:     “I’m not sure about this.”

Big boy:         “Which movies do you choose?”

Little boy:     “I’m sure she won’t allow.”

Big boy:         “We’ll convince her.”

Little boy:     “You won’t succeed. I know her.”

Big boy:         “Come on. Don’t be so pessimistic.”

Little boy:     “Okay. You try to convince her.”

Big boy:         “Why always me?”

Little boy:     “You wanted to watch a film.”

Big boy:         “But you do like watching, too.”

Little boy:     “Sure. But it was your idea.”

Big boy:         “My brother: you’re such a kill-joy.”

Little boy:     “Thanks. And you’re so boring with your ideas.”



Motherly love

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It took me quite a while to realize what it means being a mom.

My own mother told me so many times that I’ll be remembering her when I’ll be having my own children. She used to say so when she was upset with me. And as I remember, she was it very often because I wasn’t the girl she wanted me to be.

I always translated her threat this way: Being a mom isn’t a very nice thing to be. It brings you a lot of frustration and worries, and children aren’t grateful for all the work you do for them. And I believed her because I saw her feeling disappointed by me so many times and because she never told me that having children opens your heart and your mind.

When I look at my two boys today, I realize what my mother didn’t feel.

I appreciate so much that the boys came into my life. I am proud of being their mom. My relationship with them is the most special one I ever had, and I finally feel the tie, which will always be between big and little boy and me: it is love.


Long-term investment in a friendship

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They didn’t know each other. One came from Spain, one from Switzerland.

One wanted to be close to the other, the other one hated it. Black Tomcat always stood up and left the place when Tigress, the Spanish cat, came in its neighborhood.

Tigress stayed at home on the sofa, during Tomcat was chasing mice and enjoying long walks. Tigress always stood at the door when Tomcat came back.

A few months ago, Tigress was meowing very loud in the cellar. I didn’t get the point. She didn’t stop until I realized that Tomcat was locked in one of the cellar rooms.

After a year of sharing the same household, Tomcat obviously started to be friendlier; from time to time, he licked Tigress when she was very demonstratively standing in front of him and wished to be caressed. Or, Tomcat shares now their cat basket without meow.

A few days, they started fooling around, playing, turning and rolling on the floor. And after that, it seemed as if they were playing hide-and-seek.

What did I learn of Tigress?

Patience is a long-term investment and is certainly valuable for all sorts of relationships.



Little universe of thinking

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It is a small world, my little mossy universe of thinking.

A lot of tiny thoughts are turning their rounds; some are coming and disappearing as soon as they arrived. Some are turning and going round and round and round.

It is difficult to have the big picture.

I am crawling, moving my arms and legs and breathing every third movement.

At the beginning, my thoughts are wild, a total disorder; after some hundred meters, they start to slow down and become more clear. And at the end of my crawl session, there are just a few, but very precise thoughts. What a relief!


Playing myself

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My kid played the role of the Puss in the boots. It is a wonderful fairy tale about having nothing and getting everything. The only condition is to play well your role.

Well, I admit this is a rather simple interpretation of the story. But it seems to fit to a program I encountered rather often in life.

It is important how I play my role. The better I play the more I get. But playing well means to me playing my own role and not the one expected by my parents, teachers, superiors, colleagues, partner or my children.

And this is the most difficult. Being connected to the person I am and to what I am feeling isn’t easy to play in a big theatre like our world.

Sometimes, I’d prefer to be my cat lying on my sofa all day long and being myself during doing nothing.


Here or there?


I am standing in front of the gate but I’d like to be on the other side.

I imagine it to be more interesting over there but it is only in my imagination. I don’t have any real experience.

So many times in life I find myself dreaming of being elsewhere.

If I try now to imagine being on the other side of the gate and looking at me from there, it feels surprisingly good; I see myself with other eyes and I wished to be over there with me.

Again, many things are just a matter of viewpoint.