Like tear drops on withered leaves, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

There are times
When the world moves on without us
Where we stand in suspended despair
On the banks of sorrow
Where our loneliness
Is like a frozen prison
And our desperate cries
Fall like tear drops on withered leaves
Floating in the sea of sadness

When all strength has faded
And the chasm before you is gaping wide
Then remember that the flame of hope
Only needs a little spark from your heart
And the warmth of the sun
Will melt the shackles of darkness

You are not alone
There is always one true friend
Waiting to carry you on

© Thorsten Becker

An autumn dream, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

Come and follow the mossy path
Down by the willow trees, past weathered stone walls.
Walk through the mist that dances in the fading sun.
Feel the rustling under your feet, of fallen leaves
Carefully placed as a blanket to warm your feet.
And as you make your way around houses left long ago
Upon forgotten grounds your eyes now gaze.
Enter through the rusted gate, underneath the faded sign
A king’s garden in slumber, waiting for magic words to be spoken.
“Awake you trees, you dancers of the woods,
You shrubs and bushes, adorn yourselves in precious gems.”
And suddenly as golden light streams through the branches frozen
They come to live in vigorous motion.
Stretching out to take you by the hand,
Dressed in golden garments shining bright.
Their blossoms turn to brilliant stones
Of ruby, sapphire and amethyst, it is as if
Never there was a more perfect time
To be enchanted by an autumn dream.

© Thorsten Becker

It doesn’t have to be perfect, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

Perfection. Many people strive for it, few accomplish it in their chosen profession and even then they’re often not happy with what they’ve accomplished. There is a term for people constantly striving to be perfect, perfectionists. I include myself in this group on many occasions – do it right or don’t do it at all. It’s a silly attitude and one that often leads to frustration and even can prevent us from actually making progress. Part of the problem is our most common definition of perfection, that of freedom fault or defect. It is an absolute term as in something has to be absolutely right, absolutely correct, geometrically straight and even. The problem is that this just isn’t natural. Take the human body for example, specifically the face. Take a photo of a face, any face, then cut one half out and mirror the remaining. It suddenly looks odd, weird, strange. It justs doesn’t look natural anymore. Each side of our face and even our whole body is slightly different from the other.

We struggle for perfection because we want to be without fault, without blame. Everything we do we want to be right and good and admirable. At its core this struggle is positive and enables us to get better at the things we enjoy doing. But we don’t need to be perfect. To the contrary. If indeed anything we’d put our mind to would be perfect in the end where would be the desire to try to hone our skills, to become better at something, to branch out or try something new for the enjoyment of learning it? This is in line with another definition of perfection – the act or process of perfecting. This indicates a constant activity, a continued effort, the ability to master something (achieve a level of excellence) but still be able to go beyond or continue in another direction. I personally prefer this definition – a desire for perfection without setting unrealistic goals and expectations that could choke our creativity and ambition.

The reason for this post is a concert my wife and I attended yesterday. We went to the Theater am Aegi in Hannover and saw “A Fine Frenzy” aka Alison Sudol perform live on stage. I’ve never heard of her until a few days ago but Holly had listened to a few songs recently and really liked her music. It was a very nice concert and I am glad that my fellow Hanovarians made Ms. Sudol feel “at home away from home” as she put it in her own words. Ms. Sudol presented a very solid and enjoyable performance (translation for Americans: she was wicked awesome) and it was fun listening to her thoughtful, storytelling lyrics and the wide range of musical energy. At one point during the concert she performed a new song from her upcoming album. It was the only song she sat down for with a guitar in her hands. She struggled. She apologized for being a new guitar player, then she started over. She continued to struggle. Her voice displayed a slight level of nervousness, the microphone wasn’t positioned right and she occasionally shook her head. Part of the problem may have been that there is a stigmata that Indie style artists, especially if they’re are just the slightest bit folksy, need to play guitar (which I find ridiculous) so it may have been somewhat of a forced choice on Ms. Sudol’s side. But the guitar really only served as an accompanying acoustic element. During the song there was a certain ‘encouragement’ lingering in the air. We all could feel her struggle yet she kept on and was showered with applause and cheering afterwards. But there were also critical voices nearby where we sat. I didn’t hear them but Holly did and it made her upset and in turn made me upset. I thought to myself ‘it doesn’t have to be perfect. It is more important that it’s touching’. And touching it was, not just the song itself, which was my favorite that evening as it was a very ethereal mystical pieces, but also watching her on a suddenly very personal level. Here was an artist in the act or process of perfecting, keeping on and in the end, mastering it. I admire that.

It doesn’t have to be perfect. It is more important that what we do is touching. If we can touch people’s lifes and encourage them, brighten their days, we have done a far better job than if we’d been perfect but failed to get to someone’s heart.

It’s the little things that matter, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

Every now and then a commonly used word suddenly stands out in my mind, often for no apparent reason; it just kind of begs for attention and lingers in the forefront until I take a moment to research it further. So it was with the word ’salary’ not too long ago.

If you are employed in any form or manner and receive a regular payment you are a salaried worker. But how does earning money relate to the actual term salary? Here is a definition of salary according to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary:

Main Entry:
sal·a·ry
Pronunciation: \ˈsal-rē, ˈsa-lə-\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural sal·a·ries
Etymology: Middle English salarie, from Anglo-French, from Latin salarium pension, salary, from neuter of salarius of salt, from sal salt — more at salt
Date: 13th century
: fixed compensation paid regularly for services

Salary hence is derived from the Latin salarium which is rooted in the word for salt. Wikipedia offers the following explanation:

“By the time of the Hebrew Book of Ezra (550 BC to 450 BC), accepting salt from a person was synonymous with drawing sustenance, taking pay, or being in that person’s service. At that time salt production was strictly controlled by the monarchy or ruling elite. Depending on the translation of Ezra 4:14, the servants of King Artaxerxes I of Persia explain their loyalty variously as “because we are salted with the salt of the palace” or “because we have maintenance from the king” or “because we are responsible to the king.”
…
Similarly, the Roman word salarium linked employment, salt and soldiers, but the exact link is unclear.”

Considering the importance of salt it is easy to see why ancient cultures highly regarded it up to the point of payment (Wikipedia):

“Chloride and sodium ions, the two major components of salt, are necessary for the survival of all known living creatures, including humans. Salt is involved in regulating the water content (fluid balance) of the body.”

Nowadays the focus is more on salt (sodium) low nutrition as it is relatively easy to attain and we tend to overuse it hence it has lost its former value and status. But regardless of that it is and will always be essential for our well being. It is one of those many little things we usually don’t pay much attention to unless it affects us negatively. We wouldn’t necessarily sit around and contemplate the importance of salt, how it was used as payment in times past, how maybe nowadays many people suffer from low salt intake as it may still be a rare or precious commodity in their country. The fact remains that something so small had and continues to have a major importance in our life.

Researching all this made me think once again how valuable it is to consider the little things in life. We could have all the food we’d want, if we had no salt with some meals we’d eventually die. So what about all the other little things that touch us personally – a kind word, a tender touch, a smile, someone showing appreciation for us, the nature that surrounds us – or the lack of some or many of these? If we tend to focus too much on the big things in life – the things we want to do down the road, the things we want to achieve, purchase, do once we have this or that – we will miss many opportunities and rob us of our joy of everyday life. As westerners we live in societies that foster big picture thinking, big item purchases, big reward achievements. But much of it requires tremendous efforts, efforts that not always pay off and might throw us into depression and frustration. Consider the following albeit a bit vain example (in line with the financial turmoil of these days): Imagine a generous person offering you one million dollars/pounds/euros for telling them right now, right here, what you are thinking about – anything. Now consider another person offering you the proverbial penny for your thoughts, telling you he will double it each day for the next thirty days if you keep sharing your thoughts. Which offer would you pick?

If you said “the one million” you’ve just lost out on a much higher payoff. How so? I don’t want to turn this into a mathematics exercise so I just tell you that doubling a penny for 30 days each day will lead to 1,073,741,824 pennies (2³⁰) or over 10 million dollars/pounds/euros. The million upfront sounded like so much more than the pennies a day, didn’t it? But with some time to think and compare each offer, with just a little bit of effort and the willingness to set aside our own big picture thinking we can make a much better decision. This applies to all aspects of our life, especially things beyond money such a relationships, friendships and personal happiness. It’s the little things that matter just like our daily dose of salt that in fact keeps us alive.

Note: my one penny a day example was derived from the story “The King’s Chessboard” by David Birch.

A different perspective, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

I often find that people spend an awful lot of time “fixing” things, especially other people. We tend to lose our initial fascination with someone and their little quirks and ticks become more evident, sometimes to the point where we’d consider them annoying, unpleasant or even ugly. It may be interesting to stop for a moment and ask why we’re suddenly noticing these things. Is it due to a change in their personality? Or has something that’s now bothering us always been there and we just didn’t care before? And if so why didn’t we care before? Maybe because we had a different outlook, a different perspective of that person. If that is the case maybe all that’s needed at times is not a change in their behavior but a change in our perspective. Maybe we need to see them in a different light, from a different angle so that we perceive their beauty again. Because there are things, no matter how hard we try, that we cannot change about ourselves and that others cannot change about themselves. But we can always try to find new ways to admire each other.

A time of reflection, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

I am glad it is autumn again and I honestly wouldn’t mind if it lasted a few weeks longer than it usually does. I know that many people battle with depression this time of the year and they have my deepest sympathy. It can be a very lonely time, a time in between, between the life and lifelines of summer and the cold deathlike slumber of winter. At home (Hannover) as well as my home of choice (New Hampshire) autumn is usually grey and rainy but also very colorful for a short time, when all the leaves change and the foliage explodes in all shades of red, orange, yellow and brown. It is a time of strong contrasts but muted colors. I find that things often quiet down a bit, nothing appears as loud as it was in the months before. And this is what I personally enjoy about it - this winding down, calming down, this time to go inwards again, time to think, re-think, evaluate and also consider my life. It is a time of reflection, of puddles in the streets and on the trails framed with withered leaves, of grey sky mirrored within, of sitting on a slightly damp park bench in a warm cozy coat looking out at the drizzle and mist over a local park. I think it is important to feel a sense of loss at times to appreciate what we have. If we always have all the things we need we tend to take them for granted and our appreciation may fade. And while I admittedly find it appealing to live in a climate that is always sunny and where the flowers are always in bloom I would definitely miss fall. I don’t consider myself a particularly melancholy person but I do like to experience this feeling in its own time and space. Even when I went through sad times I still enjoyed autumn, almost as if nature (and in a more encompassing spiritual sense God) was showing compassion towards my own predicament. And during pleasant times I find autumn to be a reminder to stop, think and reflect on what I have and what others may not have so that I can give or at the very least show compassion from my side. In all cases and under all circumstances I find this to be a special time of the year, a time of reflection.

The colors of your heart, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

When the night is the darkest
And no light is to be seen
When blackness grips the world
And everything has lost its sheen
Then the moment has arrived for you to shine
Like a sparkling beacon of hope and elation
Setting the sky on fire with the colors of your heart,
The light of your soul, a thing of wondrous transformation.

© Thorsten Becker

Fountain of light, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

Down the street, around the corner, under the bridge,
Far beyond the shops and businesses, the busyness, the craziness
There is a fountain of light, a fountain of hope.
Light drips down in a constant flow of smooth motion
Like happy memories streaming through our dreams.
Its waters shimmer with a thousand images of joy and love.
Take a sip, refresh your mind, linger for a while.
Enjoy the lights
Until the day
Chases away
The darkness of our souls that grips us in the time of distress.
Hope flows endlessly,
Shimmering gently like a fountain of light.

© Thorsten Becker

Stories unfold, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

Stories. The cities are full of them, each one worth to be told, noticed, listened to. They are different and unique, yet compellingly similar in many ways, relatable. They stand on their own, just as their bearers, yet they connect to each other, to one another, to all of us like six degrees of Kevin Bacon.
The cities are alive, our streets their veins, our houses, shops and offices their organs, our heartbeat is their heartbeat. Listen to the beat, listen to the stories. From up here, from atop, overlooking the whole organism the stories below unfold. Night and day, two sides of the same story, the same stories told, untold, retold. Light and dark, good and evil, desires. The night hides them, the light reveals them, we revel in them or shyly move away. There is a constant whispering. The wind carriers our voices, the concrete reflects our conversations. The city, it speaks with one voice, a million voices merging. Stories unfold, some loud, some muted, some magnificent, some barely noticeable. Listen to the voice of the city as it speaks in its slumber.

© Thorsten Becker

Twilight Zone, originally uploaded by Alternate:Words.

“Where is everyone?” Jack thought with a feeling of panic and disorientation rising in his stomach.

The day had started off as usual. Jack Donehugh left his house on Ocean Boulevard in Rye Beach, New Hampshire, at about 7:00 AM, greeting his neighbors, having a quick chat with Bob about the weather, which was already warm and sunny this early. Then he sat down in his 59 Buick to head for work at the Portsmouth Herold where he worked as a staff photographer. He straightened his tie, fastened his seat belt, looked in the rear view mirror making sure the road was clear and then carefully backed out and went on his way.

About two miles down the road a bright reflection in the side mirror disoriented Jack for just a brief moment. Every muscle in his body suddenly tightened and he unintentionally pushed forcefully down on the gas pedal sending his Buick up a slope and down into the rocks.

The next thing Jack remembers is waking up to a pounding headache, his body tingling and his nose bleeding. He slowly opened his eyes and began to sit up.
“Where… what…” Fractured thoughts ran through his mind. And as he fully came to he noticed he was sitting on a large rock, the ocean in front of him. He looked out at the water for a brief moment then jumped up with a puzzled expression on his face.
“I had an accident!” he said out loud. He turned around to look for his car but it was nowhere to be seen.
“They must’ve towed it. But, why did they leave me behind? Didn’t they see me laying here? Maybe… maybe they’ll be right back. Someone probably called the doctor and he’ll be right over.”
His thoughts ran in all different directions trying to grasp his current situation. He stayed put for a while waiting for the doctor to arrive. After about thirty minutes he started to feel rather uncomfortable, wondering why no one had come looking after him yet. He stood up, instantly feeling nauseous and shivering, and began climbing up the rocks. As soon as he reached the road he called for help. There was no answer. He walked over to the house in front of him knocking at the door.
“Hello, is there anybody home? I had an accident and would appreciate your help. Hello? Hello? Could you please open the door?” There was no answer. So he went to the next house, and then the next and the next.
“Is nobody home? Where is everyone?”
It was at that moment that Jack looked up at the sky and noticed that although it appeared to be dusk the sun was sitting motionless in its zenith. There were no cars on the road, no sounds of people anywhere to be heard, no seagulls calling.
With growing concern in his voice he asked out loud “Where am I?”
“Welcome to the Twilight Zone, Jack” (play classic Twilight Zone theme).

© Thorsten Becker

A homage to a great classic Science Fiction show. I always enjoyed the quirky, creepy and often thought provoking episodes. Plus, living in a place like New Hampshire one can easily feel at times a connection to the Twilight Zone.