Love is all around us; this is undeniable. Some even argue that it’s the most powerful force that there is, the stuff that makes the world go round, the motivation to end all other motivations. I’m not here to argue with that today. We cannot deny that love brings so much joy and beauty to our world. The way we are connected and the way we decide to empathize with others is inspiring. However, in my humble opinion, some concepts surrounding this invisible force are easy to believe but hard to understand. I could write about many concepts I disagree with, like love at first sight, but instead, I want to focus on the one concept that I find particularly misleading: the idea that romantic love is unconditional. I don’t think it is.

When we think of unconditional love, we imagine having so much love for someone that, regardless of who they are or what they do, there’s no world where you don’t love and adore them. Unconditional means the absolute absence of any special terms and conditions; it means no matter what. Love is a little harder to define. But generally speaking, it means having constant feelings of affection, dedication, and enjoyment towards someone. When put together, unconditional love means loving without ANY strings attached; it means blindly. Although on the surface this might sound lovely and even desirable, I believe that when you take a closer look at what this entails, it gets a little distorted. For the sake of emphasizing the difference, conditional love means affection dependent on certain conditions, it means love based on rules and preset ideas, it is contingent on specific actions. The desirability of having someone love you blindly is something I put into question. While love isn’t typically something I pair with realism, I still believe it’s important to ask ourselves whether unconditional love holds up in the real world.

I want to start by saying that believing in unconditional love is not something most of us ever choose. It is a concept pumped into us as the most desirable version of love by the media and social culture. When we think of the portrayal of love in most movies or TV shows, it often transcends time and boundaries. It tells us that real love should be fought for, that it’s available to all of us, and that somewhere out there, we all have this perfect person waiting; someone who will love us forever, through thick and thin. This belief isn't just a coincidence. These stories are ingrained in us and project the idea that real love transcends effort, that it's about destiny rather than choices. Think about The Notebook, for example (a classic for a reason, of course, I am not, nor will I ever, dispute that). Yes, the letters are sweet, and yes, them being together in the end is lovely, but really, Noah, if you loved her that much, shouldn’t you have just gone looking for her? A little effort would have been nice. You built a house for Allie, but you never let her know. Cool, cool. A more modern example is “The Summer I Turned Pretty”, where a shy girl suddenly blooms into a young woman and gets the attention of two brothers she’s known her whole life. It’s not Belly boldly asking for what she wants that gets her the guy; she quietly and unassuming blossoms just enough to be noticed. Belly does the equivalent of batting her eyes, changing her wardrobe, and going to a bonfire to unlock lifelong devotion. She could never be deemed as “too much”. As if we’re supposed to wait patiently, silently, for someone to finally realize our worth, instead of being encouraged to voice our needs, express our feelings, and take up space.

The story presents subtle gestures as grand romantic acts, reinforcing the idea that love doesn’t require clear effort or communication. I’m not trying to argue that movies should all be realistic (they’re supposed to be magical, after all), but I am pointing out that hugely popular films like these perpetuate the idea that unconditional love is something we should strive for. Even though Noah did the absolute bare minimum to show Allie how he felt, they are still unconditionally and undeniably in love with each other. These narratives tell us that feelings alone are enough, that boundaries are unnecessary, and that conditions should be forgotten. No wonder we look at our love lives and think unconditional love is the ultimate goal. But love isn’t about silent suffering or grand, fateful moments; it’s about mutual effort, communication, and boundaries.

Because of all this, many of us internalize the idea that romantic love should be unconditional. But maintaining that kind of love comes with its own set of challenges. The very notion of “unconditional” feels almost fairy tale-like. It operates by a different set of rules, removed from the realities of adult relationships. So, when we begin to express our needs, it can feel like we’re tainting the romance. Like we’re turning love into a transaction. Suddenly, asking for what we want feels like bringing business into something that’s supposed to be effortless, natural, and freely given. The act of setting boundaries feels like it kills the spark, the magic.

Another challenge that keeps us from asking for the things we want is feeling like we are “too much”, like our needs take up too much space. For the people pleasers among us, this gets even trickier. We're so used to making sure everyone around us is comfortable and okay that we completely neglect our own needs. Over time, this turns into a habit, and when the moment finally comes to ask for what we truly require in a relationship, we freeze. Suddenly, it feels like we’re asking for… drumroll please… too much. The people pleaser in us is often more comfortable bending over backwards than actually communicating the things they may need. The idea that someone else might compromise for us, instead of the other way around, feels almost unfathomable. But here’s the thing: having conditions doesn’t mean we’re unwilling to compromise. In fact, it’s the opposite. Conditions create space for mutual compromise instead of constantly sacrificing ourselves to keep the relationship going. Loving unconditionally, at the expense of ourselves, limits our ability to grow and learn in whatever direction we need to. It keeps us small and stuck, and ultimately serves no one. As relationship therapist Esther Perel explains, when we consistently put our needs aside, we are reminded that love can hurt, but we continue loving the person who hurt us. Over time, those small betrayals of self stack up. Eventually, they lead not only to the breakdown of the relationship but to the breakdown of the trust we hold within ourselves.

The negative effects of maintaining an unconditional relationship on oneself are what lead me to argue that unconditional love should not exist in healthy partnerships. Putting other people’s expectations of you and their needs above your own leads to lower self-esteem in the long run. This is because you begin to internalize the idea that your worth is tied to how well you meet others’ demands, rather than how true you are to yourself. You are showing yourself that your needs are “less important” and that they should be pushed to the side to maintain what is deemed a fairytale-like relationship. Believing that relationships should come naturally to us, that they do not take effort and hard work, only hurts both people in the relationship, because you both stay stagnant. This ultimately inhibits the relationship from growing and flourishing. The lack of freedom to express your needs consistently isn’t beneficial for anyone; the dynamic becomes unbalanced, and that’s not healthy nor is it sustainable. Most importantly, you risk losing respect for yourself by never asking for what you want or require. It’s hard to do when we are not used to it, but it is crucial to build a healthy relationship with yourself or somebody else.

Embracing conditional romantic love is key to building healthier relationships. You have to allow yourself to uphold your conditions guilt-free. Everyone has a different set of life experiences, which means everyone’s list is different and valid. You’re not asking for too much; you’re simply being respectful of your own needs and boundaries. Identifying what you value allows you to define what a healthy relationship looks like for you. Having respect for each other’s boundaries is a good thing because it means you have one of the most important parts of a relationship down: communication. Without communicating, you won’t be able to speak openly about what you require, what feels good, or what doesn’t. Without that honesty, it becomes almost impossible to build real intimacy or trust. Setting conditions early means feeling comfortable enough to grow together and as individuals. To feel mutually fulfilled, you need to be able to grow and communicate comfortably and freely, consistently. Our fear of not being chosen should not hinder our need for boundaries and conditions in a relationship.

Unconditional love might sound romantic, even noble, but when held up to the light, it often fails to serve the very people it's meant to connect. Love, in its healthiest form, is not about losing ourselves for the sake of another. It’s about showing up fully, setting boundaries, communicating openly, and making space for mutual growth. The belief that love should be automatic, selfless, and eternal, no matter the cost, only leaves us disconnected from ourselves and each other.

So no, I don’t believe in unconditional love. I believe in conscious love, reciprocal love, love with boundaries, communication, and mutual respect. If love is real, it should make room for all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love.

My name is Lorenzo, I am twenty-nine years old and I live in Florence (Italy). I come from a bilingual family (Italian mother, German father), was born in South Tyrol and grew up in Tuscany. I studied in Florence and Venice, moved fourteen times, and now, after losing my third job in a little over a year, I am going to move for the fifteenth. I live to write and I write to live. Any other activity I engage in — apart from walking — is aimed at keeping me alive just enough to keep writing. I am the inverted embodiment of the so-called hindsight bias (the cognitive process that leads us to overestimate, in retrospect, our real understanding of past events): it seems to me, in all honesty, that I almost never understood anything, of what was happening around me. I almost always acted by trial and error, striving to ignore the long-term consequences of my choices and condemning myself to an eternal present. A present that expands particularly conspicuously just when I indulge in a healthy walk. On the other hand, what do I have to lose? If I look in the mirror and observe the primate that I am, I can only marvel that I have come this far. I am but the descendant of millions of human beings who preceded me and who, in most cases, survived only long enough to pass on to their offspring that same genome that I now, indolent postmodern lazybones, jealously preserve in my DNA. Think about it, please. Try to think for a moment about the absurdity of our very being here. Our species has existed for approximately 300,000 years. We evolved and developed in an area of East Africa and from there, through the famous process called “Out of Africa,” we have moved, very slowly, to the other continents of the globe. Since we have developed as a species, an estimated 120 billion individuals have existed. Today the living human population is about 7.6 billion. Calculating the exact number of people who have existed over the entire span of history is certainly problematic (as well as quite futile). But it is an exercise that could perhaps help us put our own lives in a somewhat different perspective.

Each of us has or has had 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great-grandparents, 16 great-great grandparents and so on. But it would be a mistake to believe that such a series continues backward until it is lost in infinity. Such a relationship is in fact not exponential. At some point, inevitably, we reach a level where ancestors shared between one individual and another are increasingly common. In 1800 the human population was about 1 billion. In 1650 it was roughly half that. Around 8,000 B.C. (when our species adopted agriculture), the world population apparently did not exceed 5 million individuals. In our multi-thousand-year history, according to many scholars, there would also have been several genetic “bottlenecks,” moments of dramatic criticality that, on occasion, would even have threatened the very survival of the genus homo on Earth. The most serious that has ever been hypothesized is the one that disrupted ancient hominids between 930,000 and 810,000 years ago. According to one study, which sequenced the genomes of 3,154 people from several areas around the world, a catastrophic event — perhaps an apocalyptic drought — occurred at the end of the Lower Pleistocene, wiped out 98 percent of the approximately 100,000 proto-humanoids that inhabited the planet at the time. At that time, hominids with reproductive capabilities are estimated to have reached the shocking number of 1,280. Humanity would take more than 1,000 centuries, then, to return to a population of 30,000 individuals. Not to mention that the existence of our ancestors, for the vast majority of history, has been nothing short of brutal. It is estimated that, for almost the entire course of our evolution, the average life expectancy was only 10 years. In the Iron Age, because of inevitable infant mortality, it must have averaged 12 years. We are talking about 80 live births per 1,000 people. Our genome — and perhaps even our epigenome — holds the demeaning mystery of an endless carnage: hundreds of thousands of years of raw, violent existences destined for a very early demise. Billions of naked, bipedal apes destined to die in very early infancy, before even being able to fully express their evolutionary baggage consisting, in the first instance, of a brain weighing almost a pound and a half, about 1200 cm³ in size and containing up to 86 ± 8 billion neurons. And, secondly, by the characteristic upright posture, with its two-footed gait, which undoubtedly favored the development of the cranial case but also, it must be said, the gluttons of prehistoric predators such as the macairod, a lion-sized felid which, for much of the Pleistocene, preyed on us with disarming ease.

Here. Seeing things in this perspective, one cannot help but feel a sense of vertigo, at the mere idea of our being here and our being now. Yet, even upon reflection, it proves difficult to suck it up, to self-deceive by telling ourselves that we are fortunate to have been born millennia after the end of the Pleistocene carnivorous mega-fauna. The traces and legacies of this past of ours are all there, clearly visible through the mirror I myself use to reflect on this issue. As I stand on my own two feet feeling anguish about a world that seems to me too fast, too confusing and too saturated with information. Rebecca Solnit, in her famous “Wanderlust: A History of Walking” (2001), observes that

“for much of human history, all land transportation depended on a single means of propulsion: feet. Whether the traveler relied on his own extremities or those of another creature, the disadvantages were the same: low cruising speed, exposure to the elements, and the need to stop for refreshment and rest. But on September 15, 1830, the motive power of the foot began its long descent into obsolescence. To the sound of a brass band, a million Englishmen gathered between Liverpool and Manchester to witness the opening of the first totally steam-powered railway. Despite the death of a member of Parliament run over by the train at the opening ceremony [sic!], the Liverpool-Manchester line promoted the race to rail around the world.”

The demise of the walking civilization, however, has certainly not solved our problems. On the contrary, Solnit again observes, mechanized transportation has only produced more mutated expectations than leisure time: just as the greater speed of industrial production has not decreased the hours of work (but only increased humanity's production coefficient), the greater speed of transportation has only connected us across larger spaces. If a century ago my great-great-grandfather Hermann, born in 1900 and destined to fight in both World War I and World War II, took two hours to walk to the town of Speyer from his village (7 kilometers), today it will take me as long to drive from my home to where I work, because perhaps the two places are 50, if not 80, kilometers apart. Both Rebecca Solnit and I agree that moving on foot can alleviate modern tedium, as also that awareness of one's own corporeality can ensure a healthier relationship with one's expectations and ambitions. Likewise, however, I think that maintaining a broader perspective on our issues, a firm resolve to keep our substantial infimity in mind, can also benefit.

Last year, in another article in which I reflected on the urgency of reviving the Neoist International, I started from a fact quoted by the famous Polish historian Karol Modzelewski (1937-2019): the ancient Saxons, in order to keep their complex family trees in mind and not forget them, used a curious system of “bodily topography” in which, starting from the tips of the fingers of the hand and reaching up to the shoulders, they used their own offshoots as symbols. The first phalanx of the right index finger could correspond to the current maternal generation, while that of the left index finger to the current paternal generation. Moving up the arms, therefore, one would arrive at the progenitors. Having become nomadic, Modzelewski's “barbarian” could hold on to his memory (the bearer of identity) precisely because of this sort of bodily topography, while his homeland ended up becoming Everywhere. In the dispersive post-modern periphery, the recovery of a dérive in the neoist sense, of a psychogeography of space (which can take into account the new “topographies of the body”) thus becomes an interesting perspective. Walking to know oneself, walking to know the world, and walking to remember where one has come from: here, perhaps, are my ingredients for an increasingly effective and joyful iter aeternum...

J’aime les tables. C’est l’objet que j’ai choisi pour répondre à la question : qu’aimes-tu ? C’était lors d’un exercice d’introspection de mon cours « insertion professionnelle ». On devait se confronter à nous-même en se posant ces trois questions :

· Qui suis-je ? (animal)

· Qu’est-ce que j’aime ? (objet)

· Qu’est-ce que j’ai fait ? (activité)

L’idée de l’objet m’est venu le plus rapidement. Une table… Mais pas n’importe laquelle. Une table autour de laquelle on se réunit, sur laquelle il y a un beau repas. Un repas partagé avec des personnes qui me sont chères : c’est ça que j’aime.

« À table ! » (Chez moi, c’était plutôt « Es gibt essen ! ») : un appel qui m’a toujours réjoui. C’était le signal que la faim allait enfin être apaisée, ou que j’allais pouvoir savourer ce plat dont l’odeur envahissait la maison depuis un moment. Mais pour moi, c’était bien plus que juste manger. C’était un instant de partage et de convivialité, un moment de rassemblement familial, qu’on soit tous là ou seulement quelques-uns. Voilà, disons qu’en quelques lignes, je viens de résumer mon rapport aux repas et à l’alimentation. Je dis bien « mon » car qui dit alimentation dit habitudes, individualité, croyances et sensibilité.

Alors oui, ces dernières années, j’ai été en contact très proche avec toutes ces questions d’alimentation et s’il y a bien une chose que je retiens, c’est qu’il s’agit d’un sujet S-E-N-S-I-B-L-E.

C’est fascinant ; à la naissance puis lorsqu’on est enfant, manger est l’acte le plus intuitif et naturel qu’il soit. On écoute son corps, on sait exactement quand on a faim et quand on est rassasié. Dans la plupart des cas, on écoute tout simplement les signaux que notre corps nous envoie et on réagit. Et puis on grandit. Et d’un coup, la nourriture devient un sujet de conversation, de différences, de comparaisons, d’inquiétudes, d’insatisfactions… Et j’en passe. Bref, ça devient une prise de tête pas possible pour quelque chose qui était à l’origine si instinctif. Encore une fois, ce n’est pas le cas de tout le monde (je ne voudrais offusquer personne), mais la tendance va dans cette direction. Mais est-ce réellement grave ou est-ce que ce n’est pas plutôt positif que l’on commence enfin à réellement s’intéresser à une composante de notre santé et notre bien-être si importante.

Cette réflexion est à mon avis quelque chose de positif et naturel. En parlant de naturel, je disais qu’en tant que bébé nous naissons dans un environnement alimentaire si évident et justement naturel. Par la suite, malgré nous, ce n’est plus du tout le cas. Nous nous auto-flagellons pour ne pas manger assez contentieusement ou pas bien tout simplement. Bien trop souvent, nous nous accusons d’être les seuls responsables, alors que tout au contraire. Nous oublions que l’offre alimentaire qui nous entoure n’est plus créée pour satisfaire nos besoins de base, mais est devenue un business énorme qui n’a pas comme priorité notre santé. On nous propose toujours de nouveaux produits qui sont censés être « moins caloriques », « moins sucrés », « plus riches en protéines », « plus riches en fibres », mais finalement ces produits sont toujours plus industriels et transformés. Mon but n’est pas d’éduquer sur les risques de la consommation de ces produits transformés (éducation qui selon moi devrait être considérablement renforcée). Mais mis à part le fait qu’ils nous font plus de mal que de bien, ces produits nous poussent à nous poser toujours plus de questions : « Pourrais-je faire mieux ? », « Devrais-je faire mieux ? ». Nous sommes poussés vers la remise en question et l’insatisfaction.

Une remise en question qui n’est pas forcément négative en soit, mais à laquelle il est bien souvent compliqué de répondre à cause du manque ou du surplus d’informations qui nous est communiqué. Séparer le vrai du faux, l’utile de l’inutile, la norme de l’abus. Je pense qu’il y a peu de sujets sur lesquels les avis divergent autant que l’alimentation. Ce n’est pas étonnant à commencer par les différentes cultures, les besoins, la disponibilité, les profils de personnes. Qui est ce que ça étonne qu’on s’y perde.

Prenons l’exemple des recommandations nutritionnelles : ce sont des conseils alimentaires établis par un organisme de santé d’un pays qui vise à diriger la population vers une alimentation équilibrée et bénéfique pour la santé. Ces recommandations officielles varient entre les pays et se recoupent rarement à 100 %. Cela prouve bien qu’il n’existe pas une seule et unique façon de bien faire ou une règle absolue à suivre. Chacun de nous est différent, avec des besoins qui lui sont propres, et nos corps ne fonctionnent pas tous de la même manière.

Le recours des autorités de santé à ces directives souligne à quel point nous avons perdu nos repères en matière d’alimentation. Face à une multitude de choix et de stimuli qui influencent nos habitudes, nous nous retrouvons à devoir questionner nos véritables besoins et à chercher des repères clairs pour mieux nous guider. Je ne critique en aucun cas l’existence de ces guidelines parce qu’elles sont fondées, mais je pense que d’une part elles ne suffisent pas et que d’autre part elles sont susceptibles de nous pousser vers une certaine rigidité. Alors comment faire pour trouver l’équilibre ?

Je pense tout d’abord qu’un travail est à faire sur comment nous mangeons et non pas forcément sur ce que nous mangeons. Réfléchissez aux moments auxquels vous mangez : avez-vous réellement faim ou mangez-vous uniquement parce que c’est l’heure de manger, que vous vous ennuyez ou parce que quelque chose vous donne envie ? Il est de même avec la fin du repas : arrêtez-vous de manger parce que vous n’avez plus faim ou parce que vous avez terminé votre assiette, que vous avez mal au ventre ou encore que votre subconscient vous dit « tu as assez mangé, maintenant stop ». Il y a selon moi un gros travail à faire autour du contexte de nos repas et notre communication avec notre corps. Reconnecter avec les sensations que nous communique notre corps et lui faire confiance, car il est le seul et unique qui sait ce dont vous avez réellement besoin.

On a tendance à oublier, notamment avec l’influence de tout ce qu’on peut entendre et voir sur les réseaux, que l’alimentation n’est pas une baguette magique. Alors oui, je pense qu’on est loin d’imaginer tout ce sur quoi la nourriture que nous ingérons à une influence et ce n’est pas pour rien qu’on dit « on est ce qu’on mange ». Je dis cela dans une vision plus holistique : notre bien-être mental et physique est défini par tellement de facteurs qu’il est difficile d’en isoler un. Le stress, l’activité physique, les contacts sociaux, le sommeil, l’environnement, en bref notre hygiène de vie ne se définit pas par un seul axe et surtout elle n’est pas toujours constante et stable. Alors avoir une alimentation équilibrée oui, mais l’équilibre ne se crée pas sur un jour, une semaine ou même un mois. À mon avis, c’est l’approche qui doit être équilibrée et raisonnable et qui doit être en symbiose avec le contexte que nous vivons à un certain moment. Ne soyons pas trop dur avec nous-même et ne transformons pas l’alimentation en une discipline de plus dans laquelle nous devons exceller. Pensons tout simplement à notre corps et à ce qui lui fait du bien à ce moment-là.

Je glisse un dernier mot ; je tiens à préciser – car je sais que c'est un sujet sensible – que tout ce que j’écris et exprime ici reflète uniquement mes pensées personnelles que j’aurais d’ailleurs pu développer bien au-delà de ces lignes. Ainsi, mes propos s’adressent uniquement aux personnes en bonne santé générale et sans pathologies spécifiques.

English translation

Reflections Around a Table

I love tables. It’s the object I chose to answer the question: “What do you love?” This was during an introspection exercise in my “professional integration” course. We had to confront ourselves by asking these three questions:

• Who am I? (animal)

• What do I love? (object)

• What have I done? (activity)

The idea for the object came to me the quickest. A table… but not just any table. A table around which people gather, on which there is a beautiful meal. A meal shared with those dear to me: that’s what I love.

“Food’s ready!” (At my place, it was more “Es gibt essen!”) — a call that always delighted me. It was the signal that hunger would finally be satisfied, or that I would get to enjoy that dish whose aroma had been filling the house for a while. But for me, it was much more than just eating. It was a moment of sharing and conviviality, a time for family to come together, whether all of us were there or only a few. In just a few lines, that sums up my relationship with meals and food. And I do mean “my” relationship, because when we talk about food, we talk about habits, individuality, beliefs, and sensitivity.

So yes, in recent years, I’ve been in very close contact with all these questions about food, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that this is a highly S-E-N-S-I-T-I-V-E subject.

It’s fascinating; at birth and then in childhood, eating is the most intuitive and natural act there is. You listen to your body, you know exactly when you’re hungry and when you’re full. In most cases, you simply listen to the signals your body sends and you react. Then you grow up. And suddenly, food becomes a topic of conversation, of differences, of comparisons, of worries, of dissatisfaction… and more. In short, it becomes a real headache for something that was originally so instinctive. Once again, this isn’t the case for everyone (I don’t want to offend anyone), but the trend is heading in that direction. But is that really bad, or might it not be a good thing that we’re finally starting to take a real interest in this key component of our health and well-being?

In my opinion, this reflection is something positive and natural. Speaking of natural, I said that as babies, we are born into an eating environment that is so obvious and, precisely, natural. Just that afterwards, despite ourselves, it’s no longer the case at all. We beat ourselves up for not eating carefully enough or simply not eating well. All too often, we accuse ourselves of being solely responsible, when in fact it’s the opposite. We forget that the food supply around us is no longer designed merely to meet our basic needs but has become a huge business whose priority isn’t our health. We’re constantly offered new products that are supposedly “lower in calories,” “lower in sugar,” “higher in protein,” or “higher in fiber,” but in the end, these products are increasingly industrial and processed. I’m not trying to educate anyone on the risks of consuming these processed products (though I believe that kind of education should be significantly strengthened). But beyond the fact that they do us more harm than good, these products push us to keep asking ourselves more questions: “Could I do better?” “Should I do better?” We’re driven toward self-questioning and dissatisfaction.

A self-questioning that isn’t necessarily negative in itself, but one that’s often hard to answer because of the lack or excess of information we’re given. Sorting truth from falsehood, the useful from the useless, the norm from the extreme. I think there are few topics on which opinions differ as much as on food. It’s not surprising, starting with different cultures, needs, availability, and people’s backgrounds. Who’s surprised that we get lost in it all?

Let’s take the example of nutritional guidelines: these are dietary recommendations established by a country’s health authority to guide the population toward a balanced diet that benefits health. These official recommendations vary from one country to another and rarely overlap 100%. That shows that there’s no single way to do things right or one absolute rule to follow. Each of us is different, with our own needs, and our bodies don’t all work the same way.

The fact that health authorities resort to these guidelines underscores how much we’ve lost our bearings when it comes to food. Faced with a multitude of choices and stimuli that influence our habits, we find ourselves having to question our real needs and look for clear markers to guide us better. I’m not in any way criticizing the existence of these guidelines because they are grounded in research, but I think that, on the one hand, they’re not enough, and on the other, they can push us toward a certain rigidity. So how do we find balance?

First of all, I believe we need to work on how we eat, rather than necessarily on what we eat. Think about the times you eat: are you really hungry, or are you eating just because it’s mealtime, you’re bored, or something made you crave food? The same goes for the end of a meal: do you stop eating because you’re no longer hungry, or because you’ve finished your plate, you have a stomachache, or your subconscious is telling you “you’ve had enough, now stop”? In my view, there’s a lot of work to be done on the context of our meals and our communication with our bodies. We need to reconnect with the sensations our bodies are sending us and trust them, because only our bodies truly know what we need.

What we tend to forget, especially with the influence of social media, is that food isn’t a magic wand. Sure, I think we vastly underestimate the scope of what the food we consume can affect, and it’s not for nothing that people say, “We are what we eat.” I say this with a more holistic vision: our mental and physical well-being is determined by so many factors that it’s hard to isolate just one. Stress, physical activity, social contacts, sleep, the environment — in short, our overall lifestyle is not defined by a single area, and above all, it’s not always constant or stable. So yes, having a balanced diet is important, but balance isn’t built in a day, a week, or even a month. In my opinion, it’s the approach that needs to be balanced and reasonable, and it must be in harmony with the context we’re living in at a given moment. Let’s not be too hard on ourselves and turn food into yet another discipline in which we must excel. Let’s simply think about our bodies and what feels right at that moment.

One last note: I want to clarify — because I know this is a sensitive subject — that everything I write and express here reflects only my personal thoughts, which I could have developed well beyond these lines. Thus, my remarks are addressed only to people in generally good health without specific medical conditions.

The lines that follow portray the feelings and thoughts of these three adventurers one year out from race departure. You will be able to observe three personalities exposing their most vulnerable sides, each in their own way, by letting their minds wander and their intuitions speak with one goal in mind; to present to you their authentic selves in this really unique context.

Enjoy meeting these three rowers. Immerse yourself in their feelings and you might be able, for a second, to feel like you are about to row across the Atlantic yourself.

Giorsio: “I’m a really rational person. I googled a list of emotions and figured that the fear of dying and happiness is what I’m feeling the most.”

My greatest fear is die-ing and regretting all the things I wanted to do in life. After my depression in 2017 I read the book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey and habit 2 was “Begin with the End in Mind”. This is a very powerful exercise; imagine being at your own funeral, lying in your casket. What are they saying about you? What do you want them to say about you? I remember vividly at my mum's funeral, everyone spoke highly of her being saintly, disciplined, and kind. But no one talked about her created property like cars, houses or money, because it does not matter. In fact, if you're fortunate enough they engrave three things on your tombstone: full name, date of birth, and date of passing. They will talk about the legacy that you left your family, local community, and other human beings in the world. So ask yourself, who do you want to be?

My greatest emotion is happiness. Happiness is created by happy hormones like dopamines, oxytocins, serotonins, and endorphins. In order to feel happy people need to know how to balance and boost these neurotransmitters. Because I have visited 59 countries; lost both grandmothers, grandfather, and mother in four years at the age of 18; competed in these ultra races; and been through a depression, I know how to relativize life. I am still a nobody compared to successful individuals, but I am a grateful human being.

Amir: “I’m a spiritual person, reflecting on things all the time. I wrote this so I could look back on it in 10 years and then go from there.”

I’m writing this as I am sitting in the comfort of our home and enjoying the rising sun; what the hell have I gotten myself into! Joking aside, this idea of rowing across the Atlantic came to mind when I was in a difficult spot. I was on the verge of finishing my bachelor’s degree in aerospace engineering but was being stressed out while waiting for one final result. A course which I was taking for the fifth time and felt like no matter how much I studied for it, I would never get a passing grade; was I literally uncapable? It’s been almost 2 years since that constraining period, and now here I am: Married, in the second year of my master program, almost two years into our Atlantic Challenge campaign, and possibly the best shape of my life (so far), both mentally and physically. It’s incredible to see how much can change in a short period of time. But I am left wondering, what was the catalyst for all this change? For the better part of 9 years, I have found myself always pushing to become better. To learn more about myself and to put my trust in something far more important than myself. That approach led me to knowing more of what I wanted to achieve, from academics to personal life. But it felt like there was always something missing in my psychology to remain consistent. Three years ago, I received the help I needed from an incredible individual who helped me to overcome this mental barrier. It was related to childhood trauma that had stuck with me throughout the years. To a point where I would completely block out anything that brought me the slightest bit of emotional pain. This ultimately would stop me from consistently pursuing any challenge which called my ability into question. It was a fragile feeling, with all the stress, fears, and anxieties to go along with it. I can now say with a smile on my face that all of this is in the past for me. Getting that help made me realise what I was most afraid of, and how I could turn that fear on its head to literally tackle anything I desired. I make it sound like a superpower of mine, but I should be clear; I still struggle with a variety of mundane tasks, it’s simply how I cope with it and can turn it into a positive force within myself. Now that you know in many words how I think, it is time to move the story back to the challenge of rowing across the Atlantic. I am often asked “What made you want to do this?”, and the answer will always be the same: I haven’t been on a lad’s holiday since getting married! To be continued…

Marko: “I tried to get the reader to imagine what its like to row in an ocean, using the ferry as a metaphor.”

As the overhead speakers blare: "Attention stay back", the ramp rattles into a folded position. Aboard the ferry in Hamburg, inside in the warmly lit cabin, all the bundled-up passengers shuffle through to find a bench, with the radiator-lined window seats naturally occupied first. When the rumbling engine breaks the silence it seems like this is the signal for everyone to reside in their own thoughts. As the boat rocks its way up the River Elbe you can observe the city come to life. Looking out of the right window the tour operators are setting up their ticket stands and the seaside cafe's stocking up on Fishbrötchen (salted fish inside a fluffy white bun). If you're looking left, you are faced with the third largest port in Europe where the cranes methodically load giant ships in preparation for their voyage. For some reason observing these routines from this floating capsule is the most peaceful part of the day. Maybe it's the physical barrier of the water or knowing that you have no other obligations but to sit and wait until arriving at your destination. In these 30 minutes you're disconnected from the physical distractions and worries that await during the day. In exactly one year we'll be embarking on another very long commute to the other side of the globe. Instead of the overhead speakers, we'll hear the occasional warning from our GPS. Instead of the folding-ramp, we'll hear the rhythmic grinding of the rowing seats. Unlike the ferry we'll all have a window seat and just like the ferry we will be disconnected from civilization; not by a few meters but a few hundred thousand meters. Perhaps the roles will be reversed. Perhaps the overwhelming part of the day will be the long stretches of rowing where the mind has wandered too far and the 30 minutes of relief will come from the physical distractions like cooking and changing shifts. The beauty of this challenge is that you don't know how you will feel and you don't know how you might act. That is both amazing and slightly worrying because a normal day does not give you time to explore to such limits. Amidst the sunrises and the sunsets one thing is for sure, we have control of our vessel and unlike the passengers of the ferry we will not be strangers.

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Before we get to the juicy stuff let me start with a short intro to why I accepted to guest writing this. During one of Johannes and I’s typical WhatsApp convos he asked me whether I wanted to write a post… Being one who doesn’t post much anywhere, I left the message unanswered for a few hours hoping the next conversation topic would buzz in and save me from saying no. But… it didn’t. I went to my computer and as I do a little too often I opened my laptop and scrolled through Netflix. I clicked on a movie by Jonah Hill “Stutz” which was written in an eye-catching font and what followed led me to accept Johannes’ offer to write this post.

During Jonah Hill’s interview with his psychotherapist Phill Stutz they discuss and go through the mental tools Phill Stutz uses to help Hollywood’s biggest stars cope with fame, and success but still not feeling fulfilled. Without getting into the specifics of every single one (I will leave that part up to you if you choose to watch the movie) one specific model caught my attention and directly influenced me to write down my thoughts in this single moment while I type away at my computer.

The mental model – Life Forces

The model introduced during the interview was called the Pyramid of Life Forces. It consists of three layers with the base of the pyramid being the relationship to one’s own physical body, next one’s relationship to other people, and at the top of the pyramid one’s relationship to self.

Body (level one) is mostly (85%) related to diet, fitness, and sleep. Having recently picked up working out again I was really surprised as to how much it affected my mental well-being and it was funny to see this aspect presented in a mental model in this movie.

Level two, people, states that when people get depressed it's like a ship going away but relationships are like handholds that let you get pulled back into life. YOU have to take initiative (doesn’t matter who) to reach out and engage with others. Personally, this is something I have always enjoyed doing, and perhaps helped me understand my reasoning for enjoying it so much. It helps ground me in daily life.

Lastly in level three, yourself, you get a relationship to what is in your subconscious. No one knows what is in their self-consciousness unless they activate it. You might ask yourself how to activate it and the answer is by writing. Writing works like a mirror to what is going on in your mind. I personally never write unless it’s for a school assignment or work so I thought would give it a shot in this blog.

I could go on discussing this model and coming up with stories for each layer but I will leave it with this final remark from the movie:

“If you feel lost don’t try to figure it out. Let it go and work on your life forces first. Increase your life force to find out what you are passionate about BUT Step 1 is getting really passionate about connecting to your life force.”

In today's fast-paced world, it can be tempting to put certain things on hold in order to focus on work or other priorities. But this approach should be seen as an emergency measure, not something we do regularly. Why? Because life is messy and complex, and we cannot always control everything that happens. By not putting things on hold too often, we can train ourselves to handle bigger challenges that may come up later in life.

When we put things on hold, we are essentially saying that they are not important enough to be dealt with at the moment. This may be true in some cases, but it is important to remember that relationships, whether with friends, family, or a significant other, are a vital part of our lives. Neglecting these relationships can have negative consequences in the long run, such as feelings of isolation and disconnection. On the other hand, prioritizing relationships over work can also have negative consequences. For example, if we constantly put work on hold for the sake of our relationships, we may fall behind on our goals and responsibilities, which can lead to stress and anxiety.

Ultimately, what we should strive for in life is not just short-term success, but long-term fulfillment. This means finding a balance between work and other aspects of our lives, and making sure that we are taking care of our relationships and personal well-being. By not putting things on hold too often, we can learn to adapt to the unpredictable nature of life and be better prepared to handle whatever challenges may come our way. This means balancing the demands of work with the importance of our relationships and personal well-being, and finding a healthy middle ground.

Thank you for reading my essay. I hope you found it thought-provoking and informative.

And here is how this came to be :)

When I was brought up my Mum told me I should develop an ‘Elephant Skin’. It would enable me to survive, would shield me from the unknowns, would allow me to deal with “attacks” of all kinds. It would actually help with setbacks, make me stronger and more resistant. Being strong and resistant didn’t feel like a bad advice. Does not feel out of place at all, especially today!

Later, as a grown up (still young), being in my first years of my professional career a person in my team asked me for a talk. She shared a personal situation which clearly was stressing her. At one point deep in the conversation she started crying … I was not prepared for it, I felt uncomfortable but still managed it quite well. [My thoughts: I wish this will never happen to me!] When sharing this experience with a more experienced colleague, she did two thinks: She brought a box of paper napkins “so you are prepared for next time and you can share …” and she congratulated me for being a person creating a trustworthy environment allowing a team member to share her true feelings … Was I that person truly? Did I intentionally create an atmosphere in which failing and sharing (personal and business wise) was an option? Did I consider that as an option for me?  I don’t think I did, at least not intentionally. I was rather operating under the premise that the business had no right / no space to understand my personal feelings and undertakings. Why would I share? Why would I expose myself? I better kept my ‘Elephant Skin’ intact and on. I have been doing so for many years.

About 15 years later, meanwhile I had climbed up in positions and my three kids were in the teens age, the Elephant Skin – my skin – busted. No, I was surely not planning for it. I wanted to talk (as usual), but I cried with moments of not being able to speak a single word. It happened during a training event in front of quite group of people. A combination of events, in private life and business, had been boiling for too long. I did suck it up for too long. This skin bursting was uncomfortable and got me in an embarrassing situation. So far for my immediate feeling.

The reaction of my peers / bosses however was overwhelmingly positive. “Thanks for being vulnerable! Thanks for being strong enough to share! Thanks for being a human and a leader! ”Vulnerability equal strengths!” What? This equation had not made sense to me for many years … till I experienced it myself.

Today, I am ‘walking the floor’ differently! I am engaging, listening, understanding and playing back differently. I am ready to accept vulnerability of others, because I grant the permission of being vulnerable to myself.

People say, especially in business context, vulnerability has nothing to do with showing emotions. I believe it has a bit of this as well. But more so, it is about being ready getting stuck, getting confused, making mistakes, allowing yourself setbacks and acknowledging it (no regret!), and being able to reflect on it, transparently (not filter) …  as an individual in the first place and as an organization. Vulnerability takes courage and it is a powerful precursor to learning and to growing!

It took me quite long to fully embrace and accept this truth. I am very appreciative for having had the opportunity to go through this process! It made me a more approachable, a happier, a more satisfied and a much more balanced person. I would also hope it made me a more likeable person … I let others judge 😊!

To close, I recommend you getting on the journey (if not there already). Experience it in an authentic way, in YOUR way! Your surrounding will play it back. If you are already on it, share it and help others to do so as well!

Interesting fact: “The thickness of an elephant’s skin ranges on throughout their body. Their skin in certain areas can be as thick as 1.5 inches. Even though this large mammal has thick skin, the elephant anatomy of their skin makes it sensitive to touch. Elephants can feel the smallest insects and change of climate.” WOW! I got to go and tell my mum, she was right. I got it wrong, initially.

Finally, in case you are interested: Brene Brown, an American professor, lecturer and author has given a few TED talks which are worth listening to.`

My name is Claudia and I am here today to talk to you about a recent experience I had as part of my MBA program. I study at London Business School, and there is a class we get to take called GBE: Global Business Experience. For this class, you choose from a list of locations and topics where you would like to spend one week emerged in a city that faces a specific business problem, and you both learn and give back to the community.

My chosen destination was Johannesburg (not because Johannes is a good friend, but because I had never been to South Africa) and the importance of microentrepreneurs for the economy. The experience itself was sick; in a group with 5 other students we helped a microentrepreneur named John (disguised) who owns a convenience store and internet café in getting tighter control of his business in order to expand his opportunities. While I could write a lot about this itself, I want to focus on what I learned from John as a person and why it impacted me so much.

John lives in a township of Joburg called Alexandra, which is extremely poor and suffers disproportionally from load shedding (periodic electricity cuts as an effort to control the energy crisis, Google it if you're interested!). This prevents businesses from having a consistent supply of electricity, which for my entrepreneur in particular was tough as his business involved food and fridges were non-operative for a great part of the day (you can imagine how this messes up the fresh products stock). This problem is not easily solvable, as the work-arounds such as generators or solar panels are expensive. You can imagine how frustrating this would be for anybody trying to run a business...

But not for John. John's optimism in the face of adversity was like being woken up with a bucket of cold water that checked my privilege faster than any other experience could. The first day we met John, I remember him telling us that he was so lucky to have access to so many opportunities. This guy, who barely made enough to survive and whose business was falling apart due to the structural issues of the area where he lived was thankful for having so many opportunities. He went on to explain that living in a developing country was great, because the biggest issue was that there was not enough time for him to chase all of the chances he was presented with. Talk about a different point of view.

Growing up, I have always heard from my parents, family and teachers that I was lucky. While I did realize this was true on the basic level, I never realized how this impacted my outlook on life until I lived this experience. I think it is easy to realize you are lucky when things are going your way, but whenever I get frustrated I tend to focus more on the negative aspects of a situation rather than the factors for which I am thankful. And the example of John being able to stay positive despite his problems was a great opportunity for me to learn to maintain this awareness of my luck even in situations where it feels that the world is against me - because it is not.

So, when on the last day I told John that I got a lot more out of this experience than he did, it broke my heart when he said "yes, because you need it for your credits in order to graduate right?". Needless to say that the credits were the least useful outcome of this experience, but it was a lot more about personal learning and growth, as well as a wake up call to do good and use my luck to help others in more long-lasting ways than I had been doing until now.

Thank you so much for reading and have a great day!

This brings me to music and how djing has brought me so much.

Two years ago, I went through a tough time. I was far from home and covid was still all over the place. Socializing had never been so difficult. My grandmother, who was my second mother, passed away. Cherry on top: I fell in love with the wrong person who shattered my self-confidence. My mental health was mirrored on the outside. I ate my emotions and gained weight. For months, my self-confidence had never been lower and my anxiety problems had never been higher. After my grandmother passed away, I decided to go back home and stay with my mother. I needed her as much as she needed me. For weeks, I slept more than 12 hours every day, attended online classes and watched tv with my mother. Depressing? seems like it. But no, this is exactly what I needed. I needed a slow routine to figure out my current state and accept that I was not in a good place. I’ve been told that accepting is the first step to recovery.

After weeks of taking time to reflect, I woke up one day in a different mood. I had more motivation than the other mornings. It was not high, but it was there. And god, it felt good. Waking up with the desire to accomplish something. This specific day, I needed a breath of fresh air. I remembered that I had been willing to try out DJing for a while. The same day, in an urge of motivation, I purchased a Pioneer DDJ 400 controller. For weeks, I would dj for 4 to 6 hours straight every day. I was obsessed. Music gave me a new goal to attain. It allowed me to disconnect and escape from my daily anxiety.

My desire to share came back. After months of being trapped in my mind, my motivation to bond with other humans reappeared. For months, I realized I had lost myself. I had lost the fire that made me who I am: a sensitive yet passionate and happy person. I wanted to share my hobby with my loved ones. I wanted to gather my friends around music. And I loved it. I still do. Sharing my passion for electronic music and making people dance. Matching my energy to the people’s vibe. Connecting with strangers through music. Everything about djying makes me happy.

After some months, I met a group of great guys who offered me to incorporate their collective. From there, I met people, like me. Humans who loved gathering other humans around music. Since then, I am part of this community. We dj, we organize events, and we gather people around our common passion. This new hobby opened new doors that helped me grow as a person. I took back my revenge and gained back my confidence. When I look back, this opportunity was a game changer. And they have no clue how much they have helped me.

DJs do not necessarily have the best reputation in this world. Being a DJ is not taken seriously. Some people perceive Djs as people who club, drink and party hard. Musicians despise DJs as they don’t actually play an instrument. Some of it is true. Yes, DJs like to party. And yes, DJs are not musicians. DJs are much more. DJs are givers. They share. They share their music, they share their passion, they share their love for life. DJs reunite people around one thing: living the moment. They offer a break from the anxiety of the everyday life. They offer a space where everybody can gather to fully live the present. Humans with different stories, different lifestyles, different backgrounds, for a few hours, cross the same path. They share a common moment. For some, the memory will be more impactful than others but nevertheless, it’s all about strangers bonding through music.

And I love it. It’s part of me now. It’s my secret garden. A place where I can go to when life gets hard. When my relationships, my job and the everyday difficulties of life cross my path, I have music. When I dig music, the only purpose is to share the music I love and making people happy through my findings. Even for 2 dancers, for a couple of minutes, it’s enough for me.

Djying has allowed me to gain confidence and meet incredible people that share the same values than me. It also reminds me that I have more in life than my everyday routine. It’s a great escape, that I cherish. Obviously, I have more to life than music: I work, I have my friends, my family, I build a life for myself. But I know I can always come back to this hobby that makes me happy, whatever happens and wherever I am. Every person that has a passion can relate. Behind organizing events and behind the decks, I am the happiest girl. I feel vulnerable yet powerful. I contribute in making people happy for a short time. It might sound crazy, but it does give purpose to my life.

As I said, a purposeful life all comes down to sharing. Sharing love, sharing passions, sharing emotions, sharing energy, sharing experiences. Sharing music.

I'd like to start my post with a quote by Carl G. Jung: "You are what you do, not what you say!".

I've read that sentence a couple of years ago but didn't really understand what he meant by that up until three or four months ago. I have been working in change management and while doing that I've been talking to a lot of different people about the values they hold high, what is most important to them and what they think the company I work for is lacking. During these talks one topic came up very frequently: communication. I want to use that as an example, however the learning can be applied to every value you may think of at the moment.

Let me give you a little bit of context for why the realisation was of practical importance for my job: The company I work for has had troubles with their working environment, some might describe it as toxic and that it is most visible by how people communicate. However, I couldn't really understand why that was the case, because, whenever I was speaking to my colleagues separately or in small groups, it has always been respectful, constructive and non-toxic. Almost everyone described themselves as someone who puts effort into communicating as early as possible or being as transparent as possible. Therefore I have been thinking a lot about how it could be that the communication in the company I work for was described as poorly even if everyone was communicating the best they could?

After a while I realised this: Descriptions of values are entirely subjective. Now, this might sound like a no-brainer but think about it for a second: Have you ever met someone that would describe him-or herself as bad communicator, or even a liar? I haven't.

But what I have encountered were situations in which I asked myself: How could anyone not tell this specific information beforehand?

With this in mind, I realized another important element of values: most of the time, there is no right or wrong. There are simply different (subjective) interpretations of the same situation and how to act in the best way in a given situation. Both parties could be 100% within their personal moral standard (i.e. communicating as early as possible with all necessary information included) but their actions could be entirely different.

After realising the subjective nature of values, I started to think about this whenever someone is saying they hold this or that value high. I began to approach people with a mindset that Jordan Peterson refers to as "Alert Neutrality". One might say he himself or she herself is a good communicator/ honest or whatever value it might be, but it's up to their actions to determine whether we have the same interpretation of "good".

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