Bjørn Ruwald

About four or five years ago – I can’t remember exactly – I was out browsing galleries with one of my good friends, Mads Mathiesen. It was a Sunday morning, the weather was grey, but good, in Copenhagen. It was one of those days for real chilling out in the city.

After having talked, walked, and looked (you know, browsing galleries), Mads suddenly says “I’ve sold my apartment”. Cool, I thought and asked about where he was going to live next. “I don’t know yet”, he said. I have to admit, I was caught by some surprise at Mads’s rather laissez faire attitude to now not having a place to live. (I would later put myself to shame and revise that opinion). We continued talking, and I asked Mads why on earth he would do such a thing. “You know, Bjørn, sometimes you gotta shake things up.”

In fact, Mads did not at all have a laissez faire attitude to having no place to live. He was actually completely relaxed that he had shaken things up; had a new set of dice to play … I didn’t get it right away.

Over the past years this approach has really grown on me. I have long been a strong subscriber to the “you have to see the mountain from more angles than the one you are chained to”-perspective*, and shaking things up is a big, big lever to pull if you want to do this for real. So now, shaking things up can be an objective in and of itself for me to do things. I haven’t done it many times, and I see almost no people doing it. People may like to think to themselves that they do, but they don’t. Trust me, they don’t; what they do has other objectives that are by far their real motivation. Shaking things up is not only counter-intuitive, it’s against your instincts. Which makes it uncomfortable, makes you sweat, doubt, cry, even shake. If it doesn’t feel this way, you’re not shaking things up. You’re doing something else.

Now, I’m not saying you ought to shake things up every day, week, or even year. You also need to play your hand once you get it. So this probably happens, for real, quite infrequently. But if you feel things are too steady, too comfy, too predictable, too Doug**, then you should consider what you can do to make them less so.

Shake things up.

* One of the many beautiful descriptions from A Fugitive Crosses his Tracks (Danish: En Flygtning Krydser sit spor) by Aksel Sandemose.

** Doug is the fiancée of Vicky, in Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona. He doesn’t shake things up, that’s for sure. If you don’t remember him – or haven’t seen the movie – watch it now.

This is one of the most beautiful summers I can remember. Not just because of the great weather – which did put on its best of appearances – but also because my sister got married. And that triggered a chain of beautiful events in my head.

Now, under normal circumstances, I would of course be quite skeptical to any boy my sister would bring home – but I guess many things are different this time around. First of all, it was my big sister who got married and not my little sister; big difference to it being my little sister. Secondly, I have known her husband, Jens, for close to eight years now – and he has more than stood the test of time. I think it’s fair to say that he won the hearts and minds of us.

Bettina and Jens have the most beautiful family; I love them so much. Their children, Mads (four) and Caroline (soon three) jump and yell Uncle Bjorn whenever they see me. Mikkel (7 months) doesn’t quite jump or scream yet, but he does smile. I love playing with them. Please don’t grow up too quickly!

Having the full family – not only Bettina, Jens, and their children – but also my parents, my little sister and brother – together at my parents’ place for a longer period of time has not happened in, well, I think 10 or more years. It was such a magic time we had together in the garden and on the beach, that it’s difficult to describe. I think magic is the right word. Maybe the Wedding helped make it all magic.

Do you remember the age at which you got your first girlfriend? In elementary school, not too serious, but still serious enough to get embarrassed about it. Remember? Well, I remember. I clearly recall a dinner, where my grandparents came to my parents’ place for dinner. My father – naturally – told the group about my girlfriend, and I was so embarrassed. After dinner, my grandfather came to me, put his hands on my shoulders and said: “It’s so much better when people like each other, than when they don’t. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.”* It put me so much at comfort, and I have never forgotten. And I still agree.

I guess where I’m getting at, is that it’s so much better when people like each other, than when they don’t. And it’s so much better when families are together, than when they’re not.

Bettina and Jens, Mads, Caroline, and Mikkel – you’re magical.

* Being from the Southern part of Jutland, I’m pretty sure my grandfather also linked this beautiful, poetic statement to something about wars – something along the lines: “People who don’t like each other just end up in war.” Well, well.

One of the most legendary pronunciations of this word – of all time – is by Lieutenant Aldo Raine of the US Army, introducing himself as a native Italian to Colonel Hans Landa, a terrifying German SS officer. Imagine the most confident American, pronouncing buongiorno with a thick, dragged, American accent – acting as if he was, indeed, a native Italian. I love this scene.

Now, this is not a recount of the events in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds (which is a great movie; if you haven’t seen it, go see it – now!), but a few thoughts based on a recent trip to Milan to visit my friend Paolo. Paolo (he’s in the photo below with me) is an old friend from way back, when we were both room mates while studying at NYU.

The movie became quite a theme for our trip (if you can call it that — a pro-longed weekend, rather, with the guys – Christoffer and Simon), and I think our trip and the movie had some common characteristics (and many, which were not in common). Below are some of the small lessons from the movie, which, I think, applied equally well to our trip in Milan (for both business meetings and the nights out).

• Can-do-attitude and mentality. Leave realism and door-closing to someone else. You should be the one who sees the opportunities; no brick walls are thick enough to stop you. Aldo Raine saw absolutely no problem in speaking Italian. And, as you know, this is the way Obama won the Presidency. Yes we can.
• Self-confidence. When you have finally decided to act, do so with confidence. No need to be fuzzy about your course – better to show real resolve and stick yourself out there. Yes, it may be wrong from time to time, but that’s how we learn. I’d rather like to know where I have you this way, than not. And you can, self-confidently, re-make a decision, if needed.
• When you fall, pick yourself up. It’s too easy to stay in the slow lane, once you’ve crashed. But it’s also boring, and it takes you close to nowhere. Pick yourself up, and realize that falling is a fact of life. I’m amazed by how Aldo Raine keeps going and going in the movie – especially towards the end, against heavy odds – but it helps him succeed.
• Escapism – being on a roll. We all now what it feels like to be in a flow – you’re immensely productive and swallowed into what you’re doing. This is a great feeling, but not quite what I mean here. The step after being in a flow is really escaping reality – you almost feel like Superman. It can also be dangerous; sometimes you lead yourself to think that you can do much more, than you really can. So while it can be productive, it can also be dangerous. Think rock stars; the best ones balance this immensely great.
• Loyalty and friends. The importance of this theme needs no introduction. It’s also clear in the movie – and on our trip. Thanks Christoffer and Simon for a great trip.

All of these lessons apply equally well in business (and on nights out in the city) – I’m trying to get better at all of them. And I’m sure there are many more, but I had to fit our trip with the movie :-).

Finally, the real reason you want to learn how to pronounce buongiorno the Aldo Raine way, is that it’s seriously fun to use it for real, in Italy.

One of my absolute favourite books of the year, and perhaps an all time top 10 or so, is Tomas, written by music conglomerate Ministry of Sound co-founder, James Palumbo. I tweeted about it a couple of times, but this masterpiece deserves more than 2 times 140 characters.

It’s written in a plethora of metaphors from beginning to end, which you’ll have to appreciate if you want to enjoy Tomas. Although I can’t credibly interpret even half of them, I find them quite clever, sophisticated, and funny.

The novel takes place in France, where Tomas is on a mission to save the world from all things superficial. The world is exaggerated to the extreme superficial — the “wear sunglasses at night” and “breasts too heavy to carry yourself” kind of world — where TV is so poor that the global channel is called Shit TV and broadcasts nothing but reality shows in variants you wouldn’t even dream of. This richness of superfluousness (and superficiality) in reality stems from Russia as part of the “Great Russian Bear’s” secret plan.

Needless to say, Tomas is the go-to-guy to fight back against the Bear, while also dealing with all things superficial. This may make it sound like a war novel, but it is far from. It actually is much more a story on life, moral, and love — with remarkable and memorable perspectives from Napoleon, a “half-corrupt” judge, and a prostitute. You will have to read it to believe it.

Many of the passages and cool metaphors run over a number of paragraphs and are too long to be quoted here. Suffice it to say, getting invited to a party requires mastering three magic words: “I’m a producer”. Be sure to practise well, to avoid ending up saying “you’re a peanut” instead when the heat is really on.

I pondered for some time whether to write something about Michael Jackson. I feel like main stream media is saturated beyond what is good. Although I’m not devastated (far from), I have to admit that I have been moved.

It took some time to sink in. Thursday late night (European time), I read about Michael being rushed to the hospital on Twitter. My rational self told me, this is it. But the news didn’t break before I fell asleep. At about 2.00 am my sister called me from Paris and yelled that Michael Jackson had died. My long time friend, Morten, was with her in Paris and he was shocked; my sister told me that he was sitting on the pavement, almost frozen. It didn’t really sink in to me.

I have been a long time Michael Jackson fan. I was introduced to his music in the fourth or fifth grade at a party. Michael had just released the HIStory album, and I was immediately captivated. It was about the same time I met my childhood friend — also called Michael, and also with the initials MJ. In some ways, he was the closest I ever got to Michael Jackson. My friend was a real fan; he knew all the songs and he could do all the dance steps. He taught me how to do a decent moon walk. I was drawn into the world of Michael Jackson, and my friend and I would often practice songs and dance moves together. I listened to his music almost non-stop.

As time passed, this faded away. I got older — some would argue more mature — and discovered that there was more to music than just Michael. Earlier this Spring, I realized that years must had passed by since I put a Michael Jackson record on purposefully. Songs often jumped up during random iTunes play, put I hadn’t really played a record for a long time as you’d do with any other record. I started playing Bad. What a great album.

Now, Michael is gone. As I wrote earlier, it didn’t really sink in the first day or two. I think I rationally understood that the world has lost one of the greatest entertainers we have had. But what I really didn’t understand until yesterday when I saw the memorial service on TV, was that his children lost their father. The children have never really been exposed to the public — Michael has protected them from it; critics would say something different, surely.

I was moved when Paris, his daughter, took the microphone. That was what was really tough for me. I realize that people lose their loved ones all the time across the globe — and it is just as sad, I know. I just can’t help being moved when I’m exposed to it, in the way I was yesterday.

Michael was a great entertainer. I love his music — always have.

Verse from Gone Too Soon, the Dangerous album:

Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight
Here one day
Gone one night

0-100 kph: 4 seconds. I don’t think I have ever accelerated as fast as I did yesterday, when I was pulled up by a winch to just above 1,000 feet in little more than 30 seconds in a glider. I was breathless and speechless, and my instructor asked from behind me: “Are you ok?” Of course I was; what a rush.

I’m boarding the glider for my first flight ever. You can see the parachute on my back.

Since I was little, my father has talked about gliders. In his young days, he was a glider pilot, and he has always allured me with his many great stories from back then. When I met my good friend Simon Schock about three years ago, we quickly found out that we had a mutual interest in flying. After waiting for more than two years (I just checked my record, Simon sent the first request for being put on a wait list in December 2006), we got accepted to a local Copenhagen gliding club, Flyvestation Værløse Svæveflyveklub.

Yesterday was our first day at the air field (see it on Google Maps), a sunny, blue sky day. We met with our instructor — a super cool guy — slowly getting introduced to many of the basics, among others how to perform a daily check of the aircraft you are going to fly. Already very early in the morning, we had to prepare for the first flight. It suddenly became very real when putting the parachute on, and repeating the instructions for what to do in case of something goes wrong (which is extremely rare, by the way).

• Flight 1: Winch start. 10 minutes flying time. Getting (more) comfortable with flying.

Flying is not only flying; it’s also everything that surrounds it. So after the flight, we spent time learning some basic ground handling procedures, for instance coupling the aircraft to the winch, signalling to the winch operator, etc.

Around lunch we spent time in the simulator as well as getting further theory introduction from our instructor.

Take-off: My instructor behind me with the radio. At the far end tip, you can see a guy signalling ready.

In the early afternoon, we were ready for the second flight. My second flight was amazing. We were towed after a motor plane to 3,000 ft, and then released. We found a lot of thermal activity, and bounced back and forth between 2,000 and about 3,500 ft. I had plenty of opportunity to to practise some of the very basic manoeuvres: Turning, speed control, and flying on course. (I may not have got all the English wordings right; bear with me). We also got the chance to do a little sightseeing as we flew over Frederiksborg Castle — an amazing sight from above.

• Flight 2: Plane tow start. 50 minutes net flying time (net of the towing time). Getting turning and speed control right. Starting to fly on course.

After flight 2, I spent the rest of the day with ground handling and speaking to some of the other guys at the club, while Simon was flying. We ended with cleaning up and a little theory.

It was an amazing day. The guys at the club are great, very welcoming and open, helpful and willing to teach — they were a large part in making this a good experience, and I can’t wait to get up to the air field again. I love it.

Randy Pausch was a professor at Carnegie Mellon University. He died from pancreatic cancer last summer at the age of 47. I had never heard of him before late spring last year, where I read about his Last Lecture, which he held on September 18, 2007. So this may be familiar to many of you, but I still wanted to type up my notes from the summer, because he seemed like a fantastic guy and because he had a thoughtful and moving lecture worth watching (you can watch it at the end of the post).

It’s about achieving your childhood dreams, which through my glasses is a metaphor for achieving any dreams you may have. The lecture is more than an hour long, so I will just pick up some of the smaller topics (but still bricks to achieving your dreams) that he brings up:

• Drive: “Brick walls are there for a reason; they let us prove how badly we want things”
  I like this metaphor a lot. If everything was easy to get, we would have no good way of prioritising our resources, but more importantly our own time, attention, and devotion. Brick walls make us reflect upon what we want and makes us prioritise. Most importantly, however, is that once established what you do want, do not let brick walls stop you — let your drive and passion climb it. (from about 5 minutes and 20 secs, and perhaps an even better example from about 17 minutes in and forward)
• Patience: Give people time and they will impress you. About 23 minutes in, Randy tells us about one of the lessons he learned from one of his role models, almost in a subordinate clause. I like this, because it is something I often forget — many of us do. Our believing in other people’s ability declines drastically with time. Patience is becoming a more and more precious commodity; and lack of patience stops us from achieving our own potential, but also experiencing that of others. Sit back and give people time; they will impress you.
• Motivation: While patience is sometimes required for people to impress you, some people will blow you away in seconds. What do you do to motivate people when they are outstanding and impress the pants off of you? Well, one way, Randy talks about, is to say: “Guys that was pretty good, but I know you can do better.” They will keep blowing you away, and they will do better and better. (34 minutes in and forward)
• Feedback: Several times throughout the talk, Randy stresses the importance of feedback, and, almost more importantly, the way you give it. I think this is one of the single most important levers in our personal development and how we help others to develop. I think it takes skill to become good a giving useful and non-offensive feedback, and it takes equal, if not even more skill to receive feedback, use it constructively and not neglect or reject it. If someone has taken the time and effort to give you feedback, you should take it as a great compliment (that someone cares for your personal development) and as a real development area. (fun, but good example about 58 minutes in and a couple of minutes forward)
• The head fake: “The best way to teach somebody something, is to have them think they’re learning something else.” The concept of indirect learning — or what Randy calls a head fake — is a theme throughout his presentation. The first example, about 11 minutes 40 seconds in, is about all the indirect learning children get, when they start to go to team sports like soccer. While it serves a functional purposes to learn to tackle, make passes, etc., perhaps the greatest learning of all is the indirect learning that you go through, e.g., team spirit, social and emotional intelligence training, and being fair. The best head fake he describes is 1 hour and 15 minutes in, and I won’t spoil the plot here, but I can say it works best if you have seen the entire lecture before you get to here.

Watch the lecture; it’s time well spent. Beyond a fun ride, you will also feel the seriousness of his situation and the emotions between him and his wife and children towards the end of the lecture — at least I felt a choke towards the end.

And finally: Did you figure out the head fake of this blog post — or my blog in general?

A couple of weeks ago I returned from my New Year’s vacation. After a hectic December, I flew to Manhattan on December 31 to celebrate New Year’s eve with Jesper and Mia and for a full two weeks off the grid.

It was also my very first time skiing. I had had a few moments of cross-country skiing before, but very little — and never downhill. But after New Year’s, we drove to Killington in Vermont for a prolonged weekend of downhill skiing. I believe in challenging the boundaries, which meant a lot of falling in the beginning, but nothing serious.

I think it went well, and on day three I was running the black slopes. Admittedly, they are not the same as the Austrian black slopes, but still. I’m as hooked on this, as I am on water skiing, and have already booked a trip to go to Davos with some friends later this year.

The rest of my vacation was spent on Manhattan, with a couple of detours to Long Island and New Jersey to test drive cars (and my first ever visit to Wal-Mart). As I’ve said before, writing page up and down about New York doesn’t make too much sense to me. Instead, here is a couple of the take-aways:

• Breakfast keeps getting better and better. Delicatessen on Prince st makes my favourite french toast, and the Moroccan on Mott st is great for low key, with a twist (can’t find it online, but it’s on Mott between Houston and Prince)
• Shopping went overboard. Odin is one of my top new fashion stores, but for some very strange reason I didn’t buy anything there. Big mistake. Marc Jacobs keeps ruling the Village and continues to open new stores (now an extra men’s store on W 4 st and Bank). And, Jack Spade now has an extra store on Bleecker. It’s bigger than their other store, well worth a visit.
• Freemans was one of the best dining experiences I have had in New York. It is a hidden treasure — and it really is hidden. You walk up a relatively narrow alley, pass a barber shop in order to get to it. They make great food — and also great Manhattans.

It was cold, but it was great to spend time with Jesper and Mia, who again seized the opportunity to play personal shopper for a day.

Back in Copenhagen, I’m now listening to the new A Camp (Nina Persson’s side kick next to the Cardigans) album, Colonia, which was released yesterday (in Scandinavia, other countries to follow). I loved their first album, and am also very keen on this one.

So far my favourite tracks are Bear on the Beach, Love Has Left the Room, Golden Teeth and Silver Medals, It’s Not Easy to be Human, The Weed Had Got There First. Go listen on MySpace.

And they play in Vega on March 31. Spring is looking great already.

More photos here.

A couple of weekends ago, I had an out of body experience. I went to Berlin with my friend, Christoffer, for an extended weekend and what you might call an extended run: The Berlin Marathon.

We headed down Friday and arrived late at night at our hotel in Berlin Mitte. We chilled the entire Saturday — picked up our start number and running accessories at various locations and, of course, tried to eat as much as possible.

On Sunday morning, the sky was clear from the very beginning. After breakfast and getting ready, we headed for the start zones.

Everywhere you looked, there were people and a lot of them. About 40,000 runners and a million people as spectators in the street. Unfortunately, Christoffer and I had to part ways from the start, as we were to take off from different start zones.

It was a strange feeling to stand among all these people before the start. You could feel so much energy below the surface — waiting to burst and to be released. It only grew more intense as the first start of three went off. (I was in start three of three). And as the second start went, it almost felt like the ground was shaking. People were excited and full of adrenalin. Finally my start went off, and the entire group of people started moving slowly forward. The closer we got to the start, the faster we were able to go. The group was a jumbo jet taking off with a slow and tense acceleration.

I was headed out for the longest run of my life — and about twice the length of my longest one so far.

My first 10-15 kilometers went great — on track to a four hour target time. After that, I had severe problems with my stomach after having eaten some very energy-dense gel. I had never tried it before, and clearly a lesson learned: Never experiment on race day.

The mood on the route was out of this world. Almost all over the place were spectators, cheering your name, cheering “Denmark, Denmark”, bands playing jazz, cheer leaders, random people high-fiving with you — and I could go on. You flew through city on endorphins, high on people. Wow.

At kilometer 20 I was in good shape again, and I ran at a decent pace until kilometer 32 or so, where my muscles started aching as I had never been able to imagine before. I didn’t hit the wall at all, my energy level and form was fine throughout, but my muscles ached and forced me to stretch once per kilometer.

At kilometer 38 or 39 I was able to run without stretching again. The crowd in the inner city carried me. About a kilometer before the finish line was a gate, which I thought was the finish-gate. I felt like I had a little surplus energy, so I started sprinting all the way up to the gate.

Imagine the feeling, when I found out that it wasn’t the finish line, but the 1 km-left-marker.

But there were tonnes of spectators. They cheered and they cheered. If I didn’t know better, I could have thought that I were a formula 1 driver getting out of my car in the pit lane.

The entire last kilometer I was almost bursting into tears. I felt like I was part of bigger thing, a cohesive whole of positive emotions, with people carrying each other through — and not the least, an enormous physical challenge. Finally, I crossed the finish line, and in front of me was an old, grand father-like man, awarding the official medals. I went up to him and he put my medal over my neck, put his hands on my shoulders and said Herzlichen Glückwunsch with such great empathy, that I then burst into tears. And I cried on and off until I picked up my clothes.

It took me 5 hours and 21 minutes.

To all I met on the route, and to all of you who helped and supported both me before and after — thank you so much. Pictures from the weekend are on Facebook.

This Summer has been great in music; and the Fall is doing what it can to keep up with two extra-ordinary albums from Danish acts: Carrying Stars from Nikolaj Grandjean (N*Grandjean) and This Is for the White In Your Eyes from Jannis Noya Makrigiannis (Choir of Young Believers).

Both albums are calm, indie pop/rock and very melodic. If you like Munck//Johnson or Autour de Lucie — calm indie in general, try these out, I think you’ll find some new, interesting material.

Check their respective MySpace pages out to get a sample:

• N*Grandjean: Heroes and Saints, Uncuff Me, Love Rocks — all great tracks which are also on the album
• Choir of Young Believers: Hollow Talk and Next Summer are my favourites of the ones available on MySpace — much more on the album

These two albums was recommended by two friends of mine, Marie and Lars, respectively; thanks so much. My prime way of discovering music is through friends, so keep the good stuff coming.

Great September in music so far. And, of course, tomorrow Tina Dickow releases her new album — a triple EP. I can’t wait.