Life, often busy and mundane, is frequently compared to a carousel. We seem to be riding, flying, running — some on horses, some in shining carriages, others perched on swans. Days rush by in a swarm like bees, meticulously scheduled minute by minute, encircled by plans, obligations, and problems.
All the while, we fear that we will not keep pace, that we will fall behind, that we will fail to fulfil our duties. We have learned to turn our most ambitious dreams into reality. We establish companies, develop start-ups.
We chase time, afraid of being late — all of us participants in this marathon. Each day we set new goals for ourselves, challenging one another and pushing ourselves to break free from supposed temptations. In the name of a healthy lifestyle, we consume gluten-free bread, guzzle soy milk, while fitness or boxing replaces hours of intimacy with our loved ones.
We take pride in our strength and perfection, our ability to resolve issues and create new projects, our capacity to bend time and space to our will, so as not to lag behind others in the daily race for success, stability, and fame. And then comes the day, or the hour, or the moment when the glasses fall away — and you realise that these are not emeralds at all, but mere glass beads; that the yellow brick road did not lead forward and upwards, but in circles. Life seems to have been lived for a purpose, carefully planned and calculated, yet the soul remains unmoved.
Perhaps, in this race, victory will go to those who know or feel what beauty beyond time truly is? Who will stop the carousel — not according to schedule, but all of a sudden. Just like that.
Not to climb onto another horse or swan, but to witness the sunrise — for such a dawn may never come again. Or to run barefoot in the rain, just as in childhood. For five years now, I have wished to visit one of the most beautiful countries in the world — Japan — but I never seem to have the time.
I have longed to see the cherry blossoms in bloom. The greatest human sorrow lies in the fact that you never know when your game, that is, your life, will come to an end. After finishing this text, I shall go and buy a ticket to Kyoto, to immerse myself in a snowstorm of cherry blossom petals.
The Japanese refer to this phenomenon as Sakura-fubuki. When the petals spin in the gusts of the spring wind, from a distance, it resembles a true storm of pink blossoms. Let this be my sea, upon which my ship shall sail.
In pursuit of beauty, in pursuit of dreams. For as long as you dream — you live. And thus, the ship sails on. — Lara Palmer, Founder & Editor-in-Chief