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Health, Learning and development, Mindset, Psychology

Always Remember Us This Way

What do you want to remember

when time is up?

That Arizona sky burning in your eyes
You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire
It’s buried in my soul like California gold
You found the light in me that I couldn’t find
So when I’m all choked up
But I can’t find the words
Every time we say goodbye
Baby, it hurts
When the sun goes down
And the band won’t play
I’ll always remember us this way
Lovers in the night
Poets trying to write
We don’t know how to rhyme
But, damn, we try
But all I really know
You’re where I wanna go
The part of me that’s you will never die
So when I’m all choked up
But I can’t find the words
Every time we say goodbye
Baby, it hurts
When the sun goes down
And the band won’t play
I’ll always remember us this way
Oh, yeah
I don’t wanna be just a memory, baby, yeah
When I’m all choked up
But I can’t find the words
Every time we say goodbye
Baby, it hurts
When the sun goes down
And the band won’t play
I’ll always remember us this way, oh, yeah
When you look at me
And the whole world fades
I’ll always remember us this way
Sangskrivere: Hillary Lindsey / Lori McKenna / Natalie Hemby / Stefani Germanotta
Always Remember Us This Way sangtekster © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

I wish you the best moment everytime


Love, Health And Wisdom



Biology, Learning and development, Psychology

Meant To Be

Today I have a story for you about becoming what you are meant to be. You can say just like H.C. Andersen´s “Den grimme ælling”.


The tree in the yard grew vibrantly, upward toward the sky. Its limbs stretched and reached brilliantly, as if to ask:

“Sky, sun, rain, and earth—make me into something great!”

The flowers and the shrubs around the tree watched in awe, waiting, with fresh leaves and strong roots, for this tree to become something great, as they all knew that it would.

The young gardener boy who had planted the tree arrived early one morning, just as winter began to fade and spring began to arrive. He circled the yard, pruned some of the shrubs, picked some of the flowers, and came to a halt at the tree.

The tree had yet to sprout fruit from its branches. But the young boy was patient. He watered the tree, and decided to come back the next season when the tree had developed enough to bear fruit.

Over the summer and into the fall, the whole garden grew, and watched the tree grow, despite itsbarren branches. Through the scorching heat of midsummer evenings, and the shivering cold of the early year, the tree reached up to the sky, as if to plead:

“Sky, sun, rain, and earth—make me into something great!”

The next season, the young boy returned. He circled the yard, pruned the shrubs, picked the flowers, and came to a halt at the tree.

The branches had grown, and hung just over his head, but still, no fruit had emerged from the ends of the limbs. The boy shrugged, pulled out a bag of fertilizer, and spread the rich, heavy soil at the base of the tree. Once the roots were nearly suffocating in nutrients, he stood, brushed the dirt from his hands, and left.

The tree felt stilted as it grew, into the summer and over the fall. It felt outpaced, and unprepared for growing. But the rest of the garden watched it attentively, waiting for fruit to emerge. And yet, it never did. January came quickly, and the tree’s naked branches reached for the white sky, yearning and pleading for something more than itself.

The young boy returned the next season, but instead of circling the garden, he went straight for the tree. He yelled and muttered in disappointment, and kicked the tree’s trunk in anger. The thin, fast–growing bark split open, and the young boy paused, in an instant realization.

He left quickly and returned with shears and clippers. He set up a step stool, and climbed up to prune the branches.

“There,” he said, when the tree had been pruned. “That will teach you to grow fruit. You’re meant to grow fruit. I know this, because I planted you, I did.”

The boy left, and the tree hung, sadly and silently, with sap dripping from its muted branches. But the garden grew forward, into the New Year. The tree slowly recovered, and by the next season, it had renewed itself.

The boy arrived once more, and cursed the tree as he saw the naked branches.

“I planted you, ” he said, with contempt in his voice. “Why won’t you grow fruit, like you should?”

But his anger was short lived. He disappeared and returned quickly, with tape and a knife and a handful of fresh, green branches. The tree watched as the boy sliced into the limbs and grafted on the twigs of another tree. He dumped loads of fertilizer at the base of the tree, stood, and left.

The garden seemed to stretch and warp in the tension of the season, but not compared to the tree itself. The fertilizer accelerated the tree beyond health and beyond movement, and its bark cracked with the explosion of growth. The tree stretched and screamed, but no fruit grew.

The young boy returned to the garden the next season, and his eyes fell in disappointment. The tree stood, torn and stilted, with barren limbs and awkward grafts.

The boy grabbed his axe and called for others to join him. He pointed to the tree, but the other men corrected him, and pointed to the ground around the tree.

He dropped the axe, and retrieved a shovel. He sunk the shovel deep into the earth, to loosen the tree from the ground.

His shovel hit something, hidden in the dirt. He knelt to examine it.

Juice from a bright red fruit spilled into the dirt, split open by the shovel blade. He cleared the dirt to see a vast network of berries, clinging to the roots: Bright, vibrant, and alive.

The freshly awakened smell of the subterranean fruit met his senses.

He stood and threw the shovel aside.

The tree in the yard had grown, vibrantly, upward and down, to become what it was meant to be.

It is all about how you have been formed/raised of your parrent and how you are raising or will raise your children. We have to be formed in a way, but not so much that it kills our passion, interests and competences. We shall not dominate children with our own ambitions.

There are many ways to succed in life.

The most important one

is the one

that makes you happy.


Love, Health And Wisdom



Learning and development, Psychology

Fear Of Falling


“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I can’t do this.”

You may have felt this sentiment at some point in your life, about any number of things. Maybe you realized what you were about to do was wrong, or that there was a much better alternative, or maybe you just changed your mind and threw it all out the window. On this bright, sunny afternoon, Jack experiences all of these.

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this!” he yells, and his voice wavers over the deafening roar of the plane, rushing 12,000 feet above the earth. The weight of his parachutes clings to his torso, and he shakes, violently.

He looks back at his instructor.

I’m sure you know that feeling—the feeling of biting off more than you can chew. It’s not an enjoyable feeling, because there aren’t many ways out of a situation like that one.

“Just do it, man!” the instructor yells.

The instructor had always struck Jack as a nice, responsible person; and he’s fairly certain this man wouldn’t tell him to do something unwise. The instructor uses the “Adrenaline Encouragement” tactic—prompting Jack to make a decision in the heat of the moment, purely on adrenaline, but Jack shakes his head.

“Come on, man! You got all the way up here, just jump! Don’t think about it!”

This bothers Jack, because the notion of not thinking about something sounds like a very bad approach to throwing oneself out of an airplane.

The instructor tries peer pressure:

“You wouldn’t want to get back and say that you couldn’t jump, would you? Think about what everyone else would say!”

But that doesn’t work either. Jack is stubborn, and there’s not much that he feels would make him embrace the vast weightlessness of free falling in the sky.

The instructor tries reminding him of the expense:

“C’mon, man! You already paid for it. If you don’t do it, you don’t get your money back!”

But Jack just shrugs. $245 dollars isn’t enough to make him jump. Why would it be? Money is an entirely poor motivator when fear is involved, and jumping out of an airplane is no exception to this rule.

This frustrates the instructor. He keeps his composure, but the tone of his voice is harsh:

“You need to jump. You came this far, you have to jump.”

Jack looks out the window, at the 12,000 feet of space below him.

“This is your chance, Jack. If you don’t jump in the next twenty seconds, you’ll miss your window. You probably won’t ever get this chance again. Jump.”

Jack looks back at the instructor.

Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…

He questions himself: Why would I ever do something this stupid? Why would I get myself into this situation? Why did I think it would be fun, or cool, or exciting to do this? What was I thinking?

            Twelve, eleven, ten, nine…

            Jack shakes his head, and leans away from the window. He can’t bring himself to jump. He yells, once again:

“I can’t.”

Seven, six, five…

“Why not?”

Four, three, two…

“I’m afraid.”

The instructor pushes Jack out of the plane, because fear is a terrible reason to not do something.

Would you dare to do it?

Sometimes you just have to be pushed to get over your limits

and get further with experiencing life.


Love, Health And Wisdom



Learning and development, Mindset, Psychology

Play Life

The short story of the day below is called Play. It is a story of all the things you really can be afraid of if you really have your mind spinning around.


When I sit down at a Steinway, in front of an audience of a thousand people, some of whom have paid more than a hundred and fifty dollars to see me play, there are many things on my mind. The best teachers tell me to forget everything. They tell me to forget everything but the music I’m about to play.

The more interesting instructors tell me to think about the first time the piece was played, like that’s supposed to give me a fresh perspective. By this point, I’ve played that piece thousands of times. I’ve hammered it into my skull until I can play it in my sleep. It’s not as amusing as it sounds.

I step out onto the stage in the same way, whether it’s the first time I’ve played, or the hundredth, or whether I’m playing at Carnegie, or my studio. The same hint of fear seeps into my blood, and reminds me that there are eyes watching.

And that’s the challenge.

I’m not afraid of the piano. A Steinway has never hurt anyone; it’s far too beautiful to do that. I’m not afraid of what I could do, or what I’ve done. I’m not even really afraid of making a mistake.

I’m afraid because, every time I step onto the stage and sit down at the piano and place my fingers on the keys, I’m making a statement: a statement about reality, about my beliefs, about what beauty is and is not. Carving sound from silence utters a declaration about who I am—and from that emerges a declaration about the rest of life.

Early on as a pianist, I fell into the emblematic dream of standing naked in front of a crowd. I felt ashamed to admit I’d had it, but dreams exist to help you understand reality, and there was no other way for my mind to communicate this fear to me. Walking onto a stage and making your beliefs public reveals your fears. It exposes your hopes. It emphasizes your flaws, and accentuates your imperfections.

My instructor was one of the best. He encouraged me to forget everything, and just play. But I was never able to do that. I’m sure he realized that I failed to follow his instructions, even though I lied plenty of times. A couple of times, I was almost sure he believed me.

But the last time, I couldn’t escape the eyes; I couldn’t escape the audience. I couldn’t escape my family, or my friends. It was like I was living in that dream, that naked dream, except I never woke up.

My instructor must have realized this. I mean, he did realize this, because he tried all kinds of things to try to make me forget. He made me play in the dark, and in broad daylight. He shipped a piano out to the middle of an open field, and made me play there. He placed a piano in the middle of Times Square, and made me play, with all of those damn tourists watching. But none of it helped.

The day approached, just like the day I mentioned earlier: an audience of a thousand people, some of whom had paid more than a hundred and fifty dollars to see me play.

I stepped out onto the stage. My mind tore at me, naked and raw. I saw my instructor behind the curtain, piercing me with his eyes. I waited for him to do something to make it easier for me to play— flip a light off, or pull a curtain. But he didn’t. He just mouthed the words:

“Forget everything.”

I couldn’t.

But I shut my eyes, and started playing.

I felt every eye tear into my mind. Into my ideas, my fears, my hopes. My insecurities, my flaws, my mistakes and grudges. I felt every eye cut deep into me: the eyes of family and friends, the eyes ofstrangers and lovers. They drowned me with their judgment, as I struggled to breathe music into my lungs.

I finished the piece, and held the keys down until the sound faded into the corners of the majestic hall. The roar of applause filled my ears.

I opened my eyes.

And saw that I was absolutely alone.

In a way you are always alone. Even when you are surrounded by people. That is why you have to be your own best friend. You have to love yourself for what you are and what you do. That is what the story is about.  Learn to play life.


Love, Health And Wisdom



Learning and development, Mindset, Psychology

Eyes Ahead

Today I am going to tell you a short story about passion and determination. I hope you can find yourself in this story. Use it and bring out the best, wildest and most genuine in you. Have a fantastic day.



The mountain in the distance beckons him with its presence. It calls out, in a low and hidden voice that few hear. But he hears it, and it challenges him, with a whisper:


He looks up at the mountain, uncertain and insecure.

Few have faced it, or even considered attempting to scale the height of this horizon, hewn from the sky itself. Impossible. Foolish. But the impossible scrapes his mind, and he finds himself confusing foolishness with confidence far more than anyone else, and far more than he probably should.

So he decides, one day, that there is only one response to the jagged cliffs of stone and the scathing heights of the massive peak. He can only imagine the view from the summit. But he’s got a good imagination.

It stands, casting a shadow over his home every single day. Finally, one day, he tells his father:

“I’m going to climb that mountain in the distance. The one that rules over the valley, I’m going to climb it.”

His father turns to him, and faces him with a confused and defiant countenance. He doesn’t doubt him, he doesn’t argue with him, or try to dissuade him. He just questions him, in a low, soft whisper:


And although the boy knows that the real reason to climb is to reach for something higher, to discover something that was once unknown, he just answers:

“Because it’s there, and it’s calling me.”

His father shrugs, and shakes his head.


The boy tells his mentor:

“I’m going to climb that mountain in the distance. The one that rules over the valley, I’m going to climb it.”

His mentor nods his head, with a quiet hint of regret, as if he had once sought the same challenge, the same discipline. Finally, he replies, quietly:

“You’re just a boy. Enjoy where you are, what you are, and forget what lies afar. The horizon holds contests that will eat at your mind and tear from you anything else.”

The mentor’s words seep into the boy’s head, like rain into the cracks of an ancient stone. But the beckoning of the mountain was there first.


The boy tells his friend:

“I’m going to climb that mountain in the distance. The one that rules over the valley, I’m going to climb it.”

But his friend laughs:

“You’re foolish. Your words won’t carry you as far as they carry your pride. The mountain is impossible to climb, incredible to summit ––that’s why the mountain is there, and you’re down here. Don’t waste your time.”

The boy bears the burden of these words: the questions, the challenges, the doubts, the uncertainties. Each of them tight and terse, like a rope tying him down to the floor of the valley.

But there lies still a conflict within him.

“It is impossible,” he agrees. “That’s why I have to try. Impossible things are only made of hundreds of attainable things, and each step is just as possible as the step before it.”

He invites each of them, his father, his mentor, his friend, his family members, to watch him as he embarks. He doesn’t carry much––it’s not the accessories that accompany him that will help him reach the summit.

But he gathers a rope, and a coat, and a flag for when he reaches the top. Early in the morning, he tightens the laces of his boots around his feet, and carries himself through the dawn of the valley to the foot of the mountain.

No one comes to see him leave, no one is there to see him off, but he takes no mind. He takes the first step. He believes in it. The first step becomes many steps. He still believes. This is a mission that will complete.

His eyes are ahead.

Love. Health And Wisdom



Biology, Learning and development, Nature, Psychology

Every Season Has Its Beauty

Every Season Has Its Beauty…Just like You

This beautiful fungus is called wood ears (Judasøre) and are infact eatable.

Sponges/Fungus are very common in the autumn and a well known time in the year to collect eatable sponges. Sponges are very facinating organisms. In fact the largest organism on earth is a sponge.

A fungus is a eukaryote that digests food externally and absorbs nutrients directly through its cell walls. Most fungi reproduce by spores and have a body (thallus) composed of microscopic tubular cells called hyphae. Fungi are heterotrophs and, like animals, obtain their carbon and energy from other organisms. Some fungi obtain their nutrients from a living host (plant or animal) and are called biotrophs; others obtain their nutrients from dead plants or animals and are called saprotrophs(saprophytes, saprobes). Some fungi infect a living host, but kill host cells in order to obtain their nutrients; these are called necrotrophs.

Well it is now february and the spring is just around the corner. I am longing very much to for it to arrive. It is the time vhere every thing comes alive. Below you can see the small beautiful erantis in my driveway. They are surely a sign of spring.

I go to the ocean all seasons. Even in the cold Winter. The beach and ocean are the best place for me to be at the summertime, but it also has its qualities in the winter. It is fresh and the ocean also has a meditative impact on you some kind of way and the light and colors are just fascinating.

There is beauty everywhere

also in YOU,

and if You let it shine,

the beauty is for more

than just YOU.


Love, Health And Wisdom





Learning and development, Psychology

Hvad (ud)danner vi de unge til

1.Februar var der en meget interessant diskussion igang på DR2 i “Debatten”. Det handlede nemlig om børn og unge i Danmark. Om hvordan vi har skabt et samfund, der tager barndommen, legen, kreativiteten og selve livskvaliteten væk fra dem ved at vi hele tiden observerer/overvåger dem, måler og vejer dem og skal have dem til at vælge uddannelse i en ret tidlig alder.

Måske har vi her en sammenhæng til alle de børn og unge der lider af depression og angst i dag.

Se med her:!/


Herunder er der links til forskellige artikler om problemet.



En ny undersøgelse fra Børnerådet viser, at hver femte 8. klasse elev føler sig presset ofte eller hele tiden. Næsten hver tredje pige føler sig presset.

Undersøgelsen viser også, at mistrivsel og lav livstilfredshed er langt mere udbredt blandt børn, der tit føler sig presset.

Foreningen Danske Skoleelever har svært at udpenge én enkeltstående årsag til, at børn og unge er så pressede, men formanden Sarah Gruszov Bærentzen tror, at perfekthedskulturen spiller en stor rolle.

»For mig at se har vi ikke en præstationskultur, men en perfekthedskultur. Jeg tror, at hvis der har været et problem før i tiden, så var det et fælles problem. Men i dag er det blevet mere individualiseret. Jeg tror, det presser rigtig mange unge, at de føler, at det er deres egen skyld,« siger hun.

Massivt samfundspres: Børn og unge får dårligt selvværd, stress og angst

Alle undersøgelser og statistikker peger i samme retning. Antallet af selvmord er faldet, men ellers er det de seneste 20 år gået den forkerte vej i forhold til omfanget af blandt andet stress, ensomhed, depression og almindelig livstilfredshed. En del unge har også søvnproblemer og spiser stigende mængder hovedpinepiller.


Love, Health And Wisdom