A man and his cello. Alone on the big stage in the Muziekgebouw in Amsterdam. An early fridaymorning, but the concerthall is packed. He starts playing, eyes closed, connected to this divine energy called music, he strucks a chord in all of us.

Living for the arts, choosing a difficult, insecure path. Because there’s just nothing you would like to do more. Actually there’s nothing else you can do. Everytime I see artists at work - painters, poets, dancers, writers, muscians, actors – I am moved. Moved by their courage to be vulnerable. To get up on that stage and do it. To show the world what it means to be connected to divine energy.

I used to be a dancer. I still miss it. Everyday. No, I don’t miss being on stage, not the applause, the premiere afterparties or the travelling. I don’t miss the glamour. What I miss most of all is the moment when it all comes together. You’ve been in a studio, working hard for weeks, and I mean real hard. Trying to understand the choreographer, getting to know the music, memorizing the steps, trying to forget how tired you are, the ache in your muscles.

But this moment. The moment everything just falls into place. The moment where music, steps, your body become one. No thinking anymore, no counting, no struggle. Just dance. It’s the best. Sometimes it happens to me when I am meditating, or writing, or riding my bike. Flow. Completely in sync with the universe and everything behind it.

No wonder arts were flourishing in the 1930’s during a period the world was in danger. It’s the other side of the medal. The light in the dark, the connection to love, life.

What the world needs now, is flow, real flow...and people who are courageous enough to live from their soul.