The sky is gray, the ground is muddy. Rain from above, dirt from below. The kind of weather where you usually glance out the window and decide it is better to stay inside.

Without a dog, I would do exactly that. With a dog, reality looks different.

So, I put on my jacket, take the lead, and head out. Every day. In any weather. An hour of movement, whether it is storming, hailing, or the sky is just laying heavy and gray over the landscape.

Later, back home, I discover it: a dog hair on my sweater.

In the past, this would have bothered me. I always carried that little lint roller to remove dog hair from my clothes. Especially before meetings. When I was invited somewhere. A dog hair was considered flawed. Something that should be made to disappear as quickly as possible.

Today, I see it differently.

When I discover a dog hair on my clothing, it brings a smile to my face. I think of the cuddling on the sofa. Of playing with the ball. Of the little ritual in the morning, while I meditate and my dog lies beside me, breathing deeply and waiting for the day to begin.

It has long been scientifically proven that these moments do something to us. Stroking a dog releases oxytocin—the hormone that promotes trust and relaxation. Playing releases endorphins, and even a walk in the rain helps reduce stress hormones.

A dog enriches everyday life not only through liveliness and connection, but also gives us a solid structure. It ensures that we go outside—no matter how much we might actually be longing for the sofa.

This is where the true significance lies: a four-legged companion is not just a blessing for our mental and physical health, but it reminds us to embrace life in all its facets.

Suddenly, this little hair on the sweater is no longer a flaw, but a quiet sign of closeness, joy, movement, responsibility, and discipline.

Sometimes, we carry on our clothing little reminders of what gives our life structure and warmth.

Along the shore rests a clear, piercing cold that settles deep into the lungs with every breath.

Then it happens.

Without a sound, the sun pushes above the horizon. A narrow line of light touches the muted white of the frozen surface. The trees along the path begin to glow. The night’s moisture has frozen onto the branches, and in the first light they start to shimmer.

Each twig carries a fine edge of crystal. A beauty so quiet it seems almost fragile.

A jogger passes by, his breath forming small clouds in the frosty air. Usually, his gaze stays on the ground oor on the pulse at his wrist, timed by his watch.

But today he pauses.

For three seconds, he lifts his eyes toward the glass-like treetops.

With a faint smile, he continues running.

The lake remains still. The sun climbs higher. New points of light spark in the snow, and beneath the ice there is a soft crack.

It is a morning like many others.
And precisely for that reason, easy to miss.

Sometimes three seconds are enough
to restore something inside us.

Perhaps that is where
a small piece of happiness lives.

Outside, there is that padded silence only winter knows. It feels as though the snow is slowing the rhythm of the world – simply because it can. A timeless phenomenon, indifferent to deadlines, packed meetings, or endless to-do lists.

Inside, time seems to give in to that rhythm. Everything is slightly muted. Slightly slower.

Coats drip quietly onto the floor. Scarves are unwound. Cold hands warm themselves around paper cups. The espresso machine hisses, as if complaining about the morning rush.
Coffee to go. Names are written on cups – sometimes wrong, sometimes with a small heart beside them.

In line stands a woman wearing a coat that has seen many winters. In her hand, a phone she types on mechanically. Her shoulders are tense – that posture one adopts when the day already promises too much before it has even begun.

At a table by the window sits a couple. They speak softly, sharing a croissant. Crumbs on the saucer. She says something; he listens. She laughs, and he briefly places his hand over hers – as if wanting to store that moment of happiness.

Warmth spreads through the room.
Not from the heating.
From something else.

The woman’s name is called. She looks up.

The barista smiles. Not a big smile. Not a staged one.
More like someone who, for a moment, has chosen to truly be there.

The woman hesitates for a second – and smiles back.
Her shoulders drop just slightly.

Nothing remarkable has happened.
Yet something has shifted.

It was only a smile.
Nothing more.

Sometimes that is enough
to make the world feel a little gentler.

Perhaps someone carries that smile onward,
out into the snow.

Who It Is Suitable For

The sessions are perfect for people who…

• …sit a lot or feel physical strain in their daily lives.
• …find it difficult to switch off or settle down in the evening.
• …are regularly tense (neck, shoulders, back).
• …are looking for an uncomplicated, regularly guided relaxation routine.

What You Can Expect

A clearly guided, relaxing hour that noticeably helps you:

• Release physical tension
• Wind down mentally
• Sleep better
• Become more flexible

We start with a brief arrival in the body, work through gentle, everyday stretches — and conclude with a Dream Journey that is loved by all participants and promotes deep relaxation and better sleep. Your camera stays off, so you can fully concentrate on your relaxation.

What You Need

• Yoga or fitness mat
• Warm, comfortable clothes & thick socks
• Two blankets (warmth = relaxation) and a cushion for the relaxation phase.
• Optional: A tea light for the small intention ritual.

Sessions are held via Google Meet or Microsoft Teams.

Perfect for These Target Groups:

WHO	WHY
People with high stress levels	For mental relief
Professionals & Team Leads	For effectively switching off after work
HR Professionals	As simple health promotion
Everyone who wants to noticeably unwind	For a lighter body and mind feeling

Your Options at a Glance

1. Group Session (60 Min, online)

• Relax together – at your own pace, with the camera off.
• Prices: Upon request.

2. 1:1 Relax Coaching (60 Min)

• For your personal “problem area”: tense neck, aching back, stress in the head. Individual. Tailor-made. Effective.
• Prices: Upon request.

3. For Companies, Teams & HR

• Would you like to give your team something truly meaningful?
• The Added Value: For focus, stress reduction & better cohesion.
• Business Rates: Upon request.

Ready for a relaxed body feeling?

Then let’s start: Breathe deeply in, breathe deeply out, and send me an email now at smile[@]liebenswert.art – I look forward to hearing from you!

PS: A portion of the proceeds will go to Frida, a project of my local Stadsmission hier in Västerås. Homeless women receive a safe place to sleep and a warm meal here.

Sometimes the alarm rings, and even before you open your eyes, you know the to-do list is longer than the day has hours. You sense conversations that might be draining, moments when you wish you could just stay in bed — protected under the covers, while the world outside moves on.

Then — amidst this mental tangle — you listen to the rain pattering against the windowpane and think you hear their voice in its rush.

You get up, slowly slip on your wool jacket, and for a moment, it feels as if a familiar embrace is settling around your shoulders. In the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lies a hint of their perfume, a memory of a smile, of warmth, of closeness.

As if they were saying: “You can do this.”

No matter what the day brings, no matter what weather comes, no matter what storm you have to brace yourself against — somewhere out there are people who hold us. Their warmth is present, even if they are in another place.

Like a quiet magic of life that you feel as a thought, as a feeling, as a silent piece of confidence that sustains us when we need it most.

Such people are there. Sometimes only in thought, sometimes in the heart, sometimes simply in the sound of the rain or in a sunbeam that briefly falls through the window.

And suddenly, the day feels lighter, almost joyful. Because you know they exist — people who love and support us who we are.

Foto: IZA Dominik Izaquiel Tomé

Tinder and Bumble are full of interesting profiles, but few are as memorable (or terrifying) as The Enlightened—the guy who promises Tantra massages and spiritual healing after a single swipe.

Here’s what you need to know about this kind of online guy and their typical approach:

• Tries to get you straight into bed with Tantra massages (which he may or may not have learned during his travels in distant Asia).

• He skips the wine altogether, since his seductive aura is supposed to be intoxicating enough.

• He knows every breathing technique to moan each other into a ‘spiritual orgasm’ and of course wants to teach you these.

• He promotes his spiritual Yoni massage as the ideal first date, including the practice of breathing onto each other.

One is unsure how much garlic you’d have to eat to keep him at a distance.

Shared traits:

Photos: Sitting in lotus pose // Standing in front of a temple // Surrounded by candles, shirtless.

Status: Only casual sex but: Once you meet him, you can’t get rid of him

Emojis:

Promises “healing” through physical contact

Believes the universe matched you for a reason

Conversation:

Tinderella:
So… is the lotus pose in your pics comfy?

ShivaVibes:
Forget the lotus, that’s my legs. My hands are trained to open more than chakras, if you know what I mean.

Tinderella:
…

ShivaVibes:
Hhhhaaaaaaahhhhh

ShivaVibes:
Hhhhaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

ShivaVibes:
Hhhhaaaaaaahhhhhh

ShivaVibes:
Tinderella?
I sense your aura needs… cleansing. Hhhhaaaaaaahhhhh

Tinderella’s Verdict

The Enlightened can be funny to chat with for a while.
If you’re not in the mood for a spontaneaus date with chakra cleansing through a Yoni massage, better swipe left.

The American:

What are the two most famous words that start with “S” and count as a workout? Sex and Sports. With guys from the stars-and-stripes nation, you can skip the gym — they somehow manage to incorporate crunches into sex

Him: “We like to keep it efficient.”

The French:

With all the twisting and turning of their tongues, your head might start spinning.
Though it’s hard to say if that’s from their acrobatics — or just too much champagne.

Him: “I’ll speak French between your legs.”

The German: 

Ah, se German. There’s always one puzzle to solve: is he flirting with you — or just deeply in love with his beer?

Structured, punctual, and every move planned in bed. Just don’t expect pillow talk. Unless it’s about football or excel sheets. 

Him:  “I have scheduled this to last exactly…47 minutes.”

The Austrian:

Is he great between the sheets?

You can find out here.

This is how it goes: after a long day at the office, you open your dating app, swipe a few times, and suddenly — there he is. Grinning. Sitting on a plastic pony.

First reaction? Swipe left. Out of curiosity, however, to see how the boss markets himself, your thumb brushes up instead of left, and you see the entire profile:

• His Bio? “Riding a pink unicorn on a playground. If that doesn’t scare you off, maybe we could rock something big together.”

• The next photo? The boss licking an ice cream cone.

• Followed by one in the gym locker room — towel slung low on the hips.

The Deal in Three Words

His answer to the prompt: “Describe what it’s like to date you in three words”?

“Sweat. Play. Thrill.”

Shared Traits:
None.
Because ideally, you’d have seen as little of that profile as humanly possible.

The Conversation (Or Lack Thereof):
Since it’s physically impossible to like your boss, there is, of course, no match.
No match = no chat.

But the upcoming salary negotiation might go a little like this:

You (to yourself):
“Shhh. Half-naked boss in the bathroom mirror. Get out of my head.”

Tinderella’s Verdict:

Swipe. Left. Now.

It was one of those sweltering summer nights in Manhattan — the kind where the pavement radiates heat, the air itself seems to shimmer, and the city pulses with a mix of anticipation, heartbreak, and joy. The air stuck with humidity, and every breath felt like breathing through hot soup.
The scent of New York City in summer?
A heady cocktail of steamy asphalt, hot dog stands, late-night pizza, designer perfume, sweat, and the ever-present undertone of car exhaust and ambition.
It was a night where hopeful expectations danced with broken ones — all wrapped in the city’s electric heartbeat. Every street corner felt like something was about to happen: a spontaneous laugh, a random encounter, memories that stay with you forever.

The protagonists of this night:
Two young women, mid-twenties, friends.
One: Black, with beautifully braided hair, Harlem.
The other: white, blonde, Sylvi.
Ladies night.

After hours on the dance floor, drenched in sweat and happy, they decide to change locations — their goal: to hit as many spots as possible in one night.

Harlem is already outside, her head tilted slightly toward the sky, as if trying to steal a bit of oxygen from the evening air — but the air is thick, humid, heavy.

Sylvi follows, pausing briefly as she leaves, reaching into a glass on the bar to grab a branded New York City condom —
when suddenly a voice from the bouncer shouts:
“Put that down!”

She freezes.
Looks at the condom in her hand in disbelief, then at the bouncer.
“Why shouldn’t I use protection during sex?” she asks, confused.

Harlem watches the whole scene with a knowing smirk, crossing her arms.
Sylvi takes a few steps toward the burly bouncer.
His eyes sparkle in that mischievous way you only find in New York.
He leans in slightly, hugs Sylvi, and whispers in her ear:
“Let’s just say: if he puts it on — and it fits — put your clothes back on… and run.”

The first hug of the night, where white, female skin meets black, male skin —
a moment of teasing, friendly protection.

The second hug, later that night in the subway station, carries a very different feeling. One that sinks in differently — that goes under the skin and stays there.

A moment that leaves nothing but quiet question marks about how and why difference shapes the way we move through the world.

After a successful bar crawl, both are tired, waiting for their trains.

On the opposite platform, a train arrives going in the other direction.
Within seconds, Harlem cheerfully yells: “Hello guys!” and runs toward two younger men who just stepped off the train.
They start talking, and after a while, Sylvi thinks, why not join their conversation?
She follows her friend’s lead and opens her arms to hug them — something very natural to her.

She tries to hug the man standing closest to her.
He steps back, almost in shock, unsure how to respond.
An awkward silence falls, and her puzzled expression meets a shy:
“Someone with your skin color would never hug us.”

The men are black.

Two hugs in one night.
Same city. Same humidity. Different realities.

One carried laughter.
The other carried history.

In a city built on closeness — crowded trains, packed bars, shoulders brushing on sidewalks — it’s strange how distance can still exist.

And sometimes all it takes is an outstretched arm to realize how far apart — or how close — we actually are.

Maybe we just need to learn how to step toward each other without assuming we already know the story.