Category Archives: Politics

Championships and Powerlessness

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lottery or go for run same odds

I have now heard from two sources lately (One Norwegian and one Danish), that they think my posts are a bit long. Maybe they are right, or maybe it´s because I write in English. I don´t know. But I do try to vary the length of my posts, so they aren´t always long. The short ones are just maybe in a huge minority so far. 🙂

So today I will just talk about two of the poems from my book. Here is the first one, that I wrote during the Winter Olympics on Lillehammer in 1994:

Championships

Best, best, best!
Number two becomes depressed!
And they´ve all been madly training,
all losing, none gaining,
really!

The reason I wrote it, was that I watched the news on Norwegian tv, and the sports section anchor was all upset and sad and confused because Norway had not won the gold medal in skiing today! He was so sad and confused, looking for the explanations to how it could be Norway only came in second, that he FORGOT TO MENTION WHO WON THE RACE! We did NOT get to know who actually DID get the gold medal of the day!!!

How embarressing is that. It was one of those moments where I was extremely glad that Norwegian is a language not many foreigners understand. We were hosting this world wide event. We took 90% of the gold medals or something like that. (Not very polite from a host, hahaha…) And then this.
It made me feel.
And so I wrote.
The above piece.

(Ps, I played soccer from age 8-16, I did ballett and jazz and hip hop dancing, I play badminton and still love to dance until I´m exhausted. So I´m not an anti athletics chick. I just don´t like to go for a run. Just wanted to specify that, so the funny top poster doesn´t make you think I´m non movable or allergic to sweating or something. Media has this great big mission going on these days, judging anyone who doesn´t go to a gym at least 3 times a week. Well sod them. Bullies).

Moving swiftly on, keeping this short keeping this short… 🙂

One more poem from my book:

Feeling Powerless

Please don´t rock my boat.
I´m off to never-never-land
enjoying never-never-mind
the bloody bombs of battle.
Please let me keep dozing;
I´m happy being cattle!
Nothing I can do or say
will make things better anyway,
just wake me on a better day,
I´ll help by clapping hands…

Yes.
Passified population
allowing greed for oil to rule the nation
beieving what they tell us on tv:
“We are the lucky land of pure and free!”

(These four lines were created in the herenow, inspired by typing this post).

I end this blogpost with a very funny facebook poster I found in my stream yesterday.
Humour is the best tool when you want to say something sensitive and serious.
I hope it won´t get my blog hacked. Telling the truth puts people in jail these days.
Let´s hope one is still allowed to tell a joke.

oil on sarturns moon

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Clothes

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Hundertwasser_maxi_02

This wonderful man is Friedensreich Hundertwasser from Austria. He is one of my absolute favourites as an artist, architect and thinker.
He lived on a houseboat named Regentag (Rainyday). He had a manifesto against using straight lines in his paintings and architecture. He was far before his time when it came to thinking about the environment and ecological considerations.

There is so much to say about him. He is illustrating my blogpost about clothes because he made his own, he even made his own shoes.
But more than that, he said that the human being has got five skins.
1.The individual human body´s skin
2.The clothes you choose to put on
3.The house you live in
4.The country you live in, or your social network
5.The Earth

We live within each and all of these zones. They mirror us, they are central in us forming ourselves an identity.

A lot can be said about clothes and identity. Uniforms, signs that tell the world you belong to a group…security needles signifying anarchism, punk rock…tie dye and bell bottomed jeans and suddenly you are seen as a hippy, white shirt and tie there goes an office worker, a loyal servant of the state… we read these signs subconsciously, and we are probably way too quick at generalizing, judging, thinking we know a lot about a person just from the clothes he or she is wearing.
A lot of the time there will be some truth to our generalizations. But not always. And never the full truth. A human being is far too complex to be categorized from just looking at the clothes.

Myself, what do I wear?
I often choose the day´s outfit from an intuitive need for a colour.
I will reach for the purple, or the green, blue, dark orange… sometimes red. Hardly ever yellow. Sometimes anonymous stuff like grey or black. Don´t have much brown. Not much white either.

Apart from colour, I dress for the occasion. A touch of formal elegance when I feel it will gain me. Other days I feel in the mood to wear my cheaky, very worn light blue jeans, with a hole on the right knee.
Most days, as I have the priviledge of working at home, I choose something comfortable, that does not cling to my body or feel tight around my waist. Wide pants, topped with a tunika. Or wooly jumper. Colourful scarf.

I like wide, relaxed dresses, in soft textiles. But I absolutely HATE IT when a skirt decides the ways I can sit or walk, small steps and polite leg crossing isn´t my forte…
I like to feel free. To sit in a lotus on the chair while I eat.

So no. I don´t wear high heels either. Sure I can see they make me look taller, and wearing them straightens my back somehow. But honestly I prefer stilts. I´m quite good at stilts. It´s a fun challenge. For half an hour. Whilst tip toing on high heels for hours on end… all my weight resting on my poor toes, squeezed into those far too narrow shoes… no thanks. I can´t run after a bus either, in “shoes” like that! Can´t dance properly. Simply a restraint of movement. Is how they feel. To me.

I respect every person´s choice of clothes. Don´t get me wrong.
I don´t pay much attention to what people wear. I do notice, when someone shows a nice sense of colour combination. When someone´s outfit shows a sense of humour or a political attitude.

Saturday morning, I was making my way through Copenhagen on the metro and train, to get to my course. (See the post Vocal Sound Therapy for more info). It was 08.30 in the morning, so not a lot of traffic. I looked around at people as I strolled, and was surprised. Everybody was wearing black coats! Really! I counted eight people on bikes who passed me. All in black! I kept looking around. Even young Africans were wearing black overcoats. Amazing.
After a few minutes I realized it was not 100%. Thank Goodness. But ok, 85%, then. How did they all come to his agreement? My dark purple coat suddenly seemed very colourful in these surroundings!
Is it because it is a big city? They all wear black because it feels nice and anonymous? They don´t want to disturb eachother by being too visible?
Funny.
Is black the new… black? Is it the same in all cities?
Black on black… that was a great song, from the late eighties. Dalbello. Interesting woman.

Yeah, identity… Since Elvis came around in the 50s, we have used music genres in our self definitions.
Am I a rock´n roller? (If there is such a term)?
Well yes I guess. The Rolling Stones, Little Steven, Queens of the Stone Age, the Clash…
But I love pop music more maybe. Or is it funk? Prince, Culture Club… The Kinks, Beatles, Beach boys, Radiohead, Michael Jackson as well… so many…
And more than that do I love old school reggae from Studio One, Jackie Mittoo, Lee Perry (I guess that´s more dub), Peter Tosh…
Oh but where to put Marianne Faithfull, Leonard Cohen, Pink Floyd, Nina Simone, Snatam Kaur…
What is such a taste as mine, called?

I am a musiclover. Will that do? I share many hippy values, but not all of them. I have sympathies for punk philosophy too. A bit.
I am a rebel. Against non peacefulness. For justice, freedom and equality. Solidarity, compassion and brothersisterhood.
I don´t know if there is a label for my kind. I don´t feel that I need a label, though, so. No worries.

When I was younger, meaning until I had my first baby (age 32), I always wore jeans and a t-shirt. Different jeans, different t-shirts. But 99% of the time, these items of clothing. My body was slim, athletic and pretty perfect, in my view. I felt at ease in jeans and a t-shirt.

I used to go out dancing a lot. Many times I would be driving home afterwards. So I didn´t drink. I never do when I drive. Don´t want to cause someone´s death. Simple as that. I respect traffic rules.

I remember one time I went to the disco straight from a christmas family party. I was wearing a red dress.
The next day I told my family I had not been left alone for a minute at the disco, lots of men asked me to dance all the time! My mother said with a smile that “yes, men do like women who dress up”. And I had to explain to her that I was not interested in men who came running after me because they could see my legs. I was interested in the 2-3 guys who would approach me when I was in my jeans and t-shirt. Those who could see my personality, not just my clothes and my body.

I´m still that way. Well. My body has carried three babies, so it doesn´t look as perfect as it used to. But then again. Perfect, in context to what? I mean, my body has created three living, healthy children. What is more perfect than that? It has also provided milk for all of them. This makes my breasts perfect, actually.
There is a cultural view on how the female body is to look to be judged as attractive. This view changes with time. Different centuries, different beauty ideals. Different decades different fashions, both to clothes and to body beauty.
In other words, one can´t take these ideals too seriously.

I have a slogan. Which I created myself, I´m very proud to say. I hope to print it onto some t-shirts one day. Maybe tunika-shaped t-shirts, so that people who have birthed 3 kids can feel good wearing the shirts too… 🙂 Here goes, listen up:

Function Fucks Fashion.

It even has a double meaning.
1.That something works, is more important than the way it works.

But that´s not my intended meaning.
This is:
2.That an item of clothing keeps you warm, or safe from the sun or rain or wind…which is the primary function of clothes… is way more important than the opinion of the fashion industry about the item´s “trendyness”.

I made this slogan while I was wearing a boilersuit from a fish factory where i worked. It was a blue boilersuit, very old and one might say ugly, after a decade or so in daily use in a fish factory.
But I grew so fond of it, that I actually took it with me when I quit the factory.
Ok, then. Yes I did steal it I guess. But it WAS very old and ugly. The other workers had newer boilersuits.

I stole it, and I wore it when it was snowing outside, in the morning as I made my 45 minute long walk to Piraya Film Company. Yup. I wore it to my fancy film company job. Of course I took it off when I arrived. Nice and dry, normal clothes underneath the blue suit. But.
Still. I´m pretty proud of that.
Getting that job did not make me stress and struggle to find a “suiting” style of clothes.
Then again, it was a rebel company. Jeans and t-shirts were wide spread. Nobody there ever commented on my fish factory uniform.

I actually miss that boilersuit. I gave it to a homeless shelter one winter, and I regret it. I thought at the time that it would stop me from walking around in the city looking strange. And it could also keep a homeless person nice and warm. But I regret it. Ever since then, I have wanted to purchase myself another boilersuit. One winter I´m sure I will.

The fashion industry. I think they are…a sign of sickness. Society consumer mentality imbalance.
“This spring it´s these new colours that matter. Different from last season´s”.
Just so that you can´t fake being up to date. You have to buy stuff you don´t need, in order to look like you´re trendy. Following the fashion.

Love this song about it.

Well, I´m not a follower of anything. Least of all fashion. I don´t see the point, to be honest. To look like everyone else? Isn´t that a bit fearful? Afraid to stand out? To be different?
Hey, we are all different! Every one of us is unique. Like snowflakes are. What´s the big deal?
Afraid others won´t accept us?
I remember high school without Levi´s jeans and Millet jackets. No, I was not accepted. I was even mildly bullied about it. But.
It didn´t change me. Or even rearrange me.

Could you be loved?
Is that the question that gives the fashion bizniz its central place in our consciousness? That we do not feel good enough? We try to show we are worthy of being loved?
“Look at me, I´m in with the in crowd, I have this expensive label on my trousers…”

I actually think fashion is old fashioned. It is doomed. Because earth can not maintain it. If we do keep up the consumer culture pace…then we, as a species, will die. Maybe that´s just as well. I´m sure the earth and its flora, fauna and wildlife has a better balance and far less pain without us humans here.

If we want to survive, though, to be the fittest, as not Dickens but…Darwin yes…claimed in his theory… (Same first name)…then we have to stop throwing away perfectly functional stuff just because the fashion guru says on the telly that the cool thing to wear is not like he said yesterday. Yesterday is so out. And blue is the new puke.

Sorry. Yes it does provoke me. I find it so brainless.
Then we rush out and buy the new textile items. And we empty our closets and throw away the stuff we bought and found so cool only a year ago.
What is it good for?
For the economy? For the profit makers´ economy.
It is not good for your private economy. But that´s your own problem. The real problem is that it is just not good for our planet!!! All that cotton, all that colouring… it is killing our mother earth. Together with the other pollution.

Soon we can´t eat the fish. Can´t drink the water, can´t breathe the air. Then what? Die pretty in pink? Die in our brand new, shiny car?

What about the children? What are they supposed to inherit?
A broken planet. Radioactivity. Fracking. Oil spills. What are they going to eat? What are they going to breathe?

Anyways.
I don´t really mean to preach. It just comes sprouting out. Like a bean stalk. Coz I do actually believe we need some saving if we don´t shift our direction soon.
And who will shift it? The industry of ProfitMaking?
Of course not.
Vote with your feet, as they say. There will be no consumer culture if we are not willing to be consumers.
End of story.

Myself I have textiles in different colours. And some items a bit more elegant, a bit more feminine, a bit on the funny side, a bit on the cheaky side, or the political side. My clothes they show my personality. And there is only one of me. So I appreciate diversity, non conformity. There´s the start of a song right there.

If and when I get plenty of dough, and money flows like golden honey everywhere I go… then I will go shopping for clothes. But didn´t I just say? No i didn´t. We all need clothes on our bodies. And my wardrobe has housed the same old items now for many many years. Once every decade or so, it´s okay to renew a little.
I would go to London. I love Camden town, the market there.
What´s it called that fancy expensive street? Oxford street?
Doesn´t feel attractive to me. Too stiff and plasticy, non personal, rigid, and stupidly overpriced.
No, I would go to the secondhand store. And hunt myself some funny stuff, colourful things, special items that someone ditched without having used it much. Good quality stuff. That does not look second hand. So much of it out there. That´s a much more creative way of shopping. Challenging my own taste and judgement of cool, instead of just buying into the mythology of the fashion industry. “Buy this…people will like you and dig you and desire youuuu…” It´s like a hypnosis trick! Consumer trance. “Stop thinking for yourself. Just do as we tell you..”

No thanks. I´m quite okay thinking by myself. I even prefer to. Makes me feel alive.
Following fashion is irrational. It is to allow other people
to decide the way you look. The signal you send out.
“Hello, I´m one of you, don´t be afraid, I´m just very ordinary, a fashionfollower like the rest of you…”

Am I too harsh?
I am not belittling. I respect everyone the same. I do.
I just don´t understand the need. The why. Follow fashion.

If it wasn´t such a disaster for our planet, and our children´s future, then it would just be amusing.
But if we don´t collectively wake up from this consumerism… it has serious consequences. It threatens our existence. That´s why I get edgy.
Sorry if I hurt your feelings. I just want us to realize what the bizniz of clothes is costing us.

Don´t I have a suit-able (pun intended) music video that would make a funny or elegant ending to this post?

Hmmmm…Nooo…. I just searched youtube…there are some recycling raps but… nothing exciting, or juicy or fresh… and none of them mention the recycling of clothes, either. Sure, paper and cardboard is important. Without trees, we don´t get oxygen. But. My issue here is clothes.
Wonder how big a percentage clothes is, of our trash…
Not a small percentage.

So let´s recycle our old stuff, clothes included. And let´s also go searching for new stuff in second hand stores.
Save the planet.
And show the world you create your own style. Your skin is as unique as your inner self is. You don´t need to look like everyone else to feel safe and good enough.

This turned into a bit of a rant. I´m searching for Benjamin Zephania, the poet, on youtube, without luck at the moment.
Oh, internet working again… Found lots of different interesting Zephania pieces, about money, and immigration… but not the piece I was looking for, called “Everybody´s got a Rant”.

It is late now, midnight soon, which is very late for me these days when I mother three… (usually I stay up write in the night when the silence is quiet… I will do that again as soon as my youngest child is old enough to not wake me at 5 o´clock demanding a cup of cocoa)! Hehehehe…

Clothes.
Let´s wear it, enjoy it not fear it, and let´s try to not make our ways with clothes be a burden on our mother earth.

Oh, I just found this on youtube now. Search and you shall find. This is f***ing awesome… 🙂 …

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Our Servas-guest´s TravelLog from Fanoe

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Our Servas-guest from last week, Yi Ping (read the post Servas; A FriendMaking ngo for more info about her visit in our home)…
She posted a status/travel log insert on Facebook yesterday, and I have asked her if I can copy it to my blog, which she has allowed me to do.

It´s not for everybody to read this. And the Bing translation into Danish is quite strange. But I will try to make an English translation underneath, for those of you who can´t read Taiwanese or Danish.
I just think it is so interesting to hear her talk about her experiences on Fanø.

🙂

Yi Ping´s Facebook status 15.of March 2015:

第八站,Fanø。這是一個丹麥西海岸的一個小島,以自然景觀和野生動物勝名。坐火車從德國到丹麥,再換交通船。來接我的是一對夫妻和兩個小孩,回到家後又看到另外兩個小孩,我問「這個家有多少小孩啊!!」「三個小孩啦!另一個是我10歲女兒的朋友」我拿著我的畫向兩個四年級的的小女生介紹我的家鄉,他們的英文還沒有很好,我的英文也正處在待修復的狀態,比手畫腳了一番才能讓他們理解我想講的內容,在旁邊煮飯的音樂家父親覺得我這樣的方式介紹家鄉非常棒,說我
畫很漂亮、很有創意,是個藝術家(內心暗爽超久!!)一定要推薦我去他女兒小學的課堂上演講介紹,我說「我很樂意,但是是用英文還是用德文啊?」「當然是用英文啊!」內心OS「糟糕….」後來這個演講英文和德文參半,幸好老師兩種語言都會,可以幫忙翻譯成丹麥文。
結果就這樣,在島上沒有去看著名的野鳥和自然生態,只有在碰巧港邊沙洲上看到慵懶曬太陽的野生海豹,再來就是一大堆非野生丹麥小朋友;小朋友問的問題很有趣「台灣最凶猛最危險的動物是什麼?」,我一時想不到,回答「人類,要小心人類在動物界是最危險的」,另一個有趣的問題是「你們亞洲人都長的一樣嗎?」我答「對我而言,你們全部都長的一樣」Host太太超喜歡我的答案的~結束演講之後,像大明星一樣被他們圍著幫他們把名字翻成中文,或是跟我要簽名,有的還要我即興畫圖送他們,內心OS「好吧我承認我是偽畫家,這些畫花我超多時間的,沒辦法即興創作啊!」
學了一句非實用的丹麥文,因為在家裡陪3歲和5歲的小朋友玩,他們 一直重複「Du kan ikke fange mig」然後我們三個在屋子裡轉圈圈跑,原來這句話的意思是「你抓不到我!」
看到他們對待小朋友的方式真的是讓我大吃一驚,非常尊重小朋友(3歲的那個也一樣),「如果我們不能尊重的對待他們,他們要如何學會尊重呢?」,從衣服、吃東西、準備食物,「我從不對我的孩子說不」我想這樣的理論我看過,但是不太能相信這個理論可以執行,在這個小島上,有一個家庭努力的實踐著。

Ottende station, Fan ø. Dette er en Danmark, en lille ø ud for vestkysten med naturlige landskaber og dyreliv win. Rejse med tog fra Tyskland til Danmark, en anden transport skib. Hakke mig op er en mand og kone og to børn, kom hjem og fandt to andre børn, spurgte jeg, “hvor mange børn er hjemme!” Tre et barn la! en anden er jeg 10 alder datter af venner “Jeg tog med I i maleri til to en fire grade af små piger indført I i hjemmet, de engelsk også nej er godt, jeg af engelsk er også ophold reparation af staten, end hånd maleri fødder har en for at lade de forståelse jeg ønsker at vide af indhold, i ved siden af koge ris af musikere far føler jeg sådan måde indført hjem meget rod, sagde jeg maleri er smuk, og er har kreative, er en kunstner (inde i mørke cool super lang!) Sørg for at anbefale mig at tale med sin datter grundskole klasseværelse og indført, jeg sagde, “Jeg ville være glad for, men det er på engelsk eller tysk?” ” I dansk, naturligvis!”
OS inde “dårlig…” efter talen på engelsk og tysk har været blandede, men lærere i to sprog, du kan hjælpe med at oversætte til Danmark. Resultater på denne måde, på øen ikke gå for at se de berømte vilde fugle og naturlige levesteder kun sket til Hong Kong barer set dovent i solen på vilde sæler, så der er en masse ikke-vilde Danmark børn; børn stille spørgsmål meget interessant “Taiwan hvad er det vildeste og mest farlige dyr? “Jeg kan ikke tænke på noget at spørgsmålet”, være forsigtig med mennesker i dyreriget er den mest farlige, “en anden interessant spørgsmål er” ser du asiater det samme? “Jeg besvare” på jeg,, du alle er længe af som “Host kone Super indkvartering I i svar af ~ endte tale zhihou, som store stjerner, som var de omkring hjælp de lægger navn til kinesisk, eller med I til underskrift, nogle også at jeg improviseret maling sendte de, inde i OS” gods jeg indrømmede jeg er pseudo maler, disse maleri tilbragte jeg Super mere tid, ikke nærmer improviseret oprettelsen Ah! “lære har en sætning ikke-praktisk Danmark papir, fordi i hjem ledsage 3 alder og 5 alder børn spil, de er blevet gentaget” Du kan ikke Fange MiG “og så tre af os løb cirkler rundt i huset, den oprindelige betydning af denne sætning er” du kan ikke fange mig! “for at se den måde de behandler deres børn virkelig overraskede mig, og har stor respekt for børn (3 år),” Hvis vi ikke kan behandle dem respekt, hvordan kan de lære at respektere det? “Ud af mit tøj, spise, forbereder mad,” siger jeg aldrig nej til mine børn “Jeg tror sådan en teori jeg nogensinde har set, men kan ikke helt tro at denne teori kan udføres på denne lille ø, der var en familie indsats til praksis.
Oversat af Bing
‘在丹麥四年級的小學先用google介紹台灣和丹麥的相對位置。’
‘介紹我們的文字,大家都跑來拍照。’
‘這個小朋友看幾眼就會寫我的名字了!!’
‘我們有掃描我的畫用投影的方式介紹,但後來他們還是跑來看我的實際畫作。’
‘十歲妹妹想要知道台灣傳統的早餐,我們做了飯糰。’
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In English:

Stop number 8, Fanø. This is Denmark too, a small island off the west coast with lots of nature and wildlife. Went by train from Germany to Denmark, then by ferry to Fanø.
A husband and wife and two kids came and picked me up on the harbour. In their home were another two kids, I asked “How many children do you have?!” Three they said, the fourth was a girl age ten, a friend of one of their daughters.

Goodness, that Bing translation is almost non understandable…

Well,
she basically tells us about the talk she did in my daughter´s class, where she showed them her drawings of Taiwan´s culture, demography, history and geography…

She says that the kids had two very interesting questions for her,
1. Does everybody look the same in your country?
To which she replied that no, they do not. But she could understand the question, because to her all the kids in this classroom looked the same as well. She laughed.
Asians find it hard to differentiate between faces of western people. Just like is the case for westerners looking at Asian people´s faces.

2. What animal is the most dangerous in Taiwan?
“Man is! The human beings! Without a doubt the human being is the most dangerous animal.” She replied without hesitating.

🙂

She tells us how the kids after the talk wanted her to write all their names in Chinese signs, and after that they wanted her to write their siblings´ names, and to tell them what their names meant in Chinese, and in the end they wanted her autograph. They thought she was extremely good at drawing, which she finds amusing, she calls herself a psudo-painter…

She tells us hos she has learnt some Danish words, which are “Du kan ikke fange mig…!” Meaning “you can not catch me…!” Which is my 3-yearold´s work, he taught her this sentence, and she chased him and his 5-yearold sister around the house here, round and round, hahaha…

She says that the way my husband and I treat our children really surprised her.
That I said “if you don´t show your child respect, then how can the child know what respect is?” And I said something to the extent that I don´t say no to my children a lot. (I save that word for when it is really necessary, editors remark).

I think that´s all I want to make of that interpretation.
You can always copy paste it into google translate or something.
I think I have covered the essential content.

Aren´t the Chinese signs pretty? The Taiwanese language has its own alphabet too. But they also use an old version of the Chinese language.

Here are some photos she included in her Facebook-post.
It shows her in the classroom talking to the kids.
They all wanted to take a photo of her drawings! (I don´t blame them, her drawings are truely amazing).
And one boy copied her name in Chinese signs from the blackboard while she was speaking!
Then there is a picture of me and my two littlest ones, that she took on our way to kindergarten Thursday morning, before we went to the school for her talk.
And then there is a picture of our ferry, she wrote as a comment for it that it connects Denmark to Fanø.
Which is a little funny to me as a citizen here, as us locals tend to think of Fanø as a part of Denmark, but at the same time, like all islanders, we also feel like we are a country of our own! 🙂

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yi ping 6

My children still talk about Yi Ping. Viola, my youngest daughter, asked today if we will ever see her again. I told her that I hope so. Maybe one day we can visit her in Taiwan. Maybe by then she has babies and is a very happy mother! Or maybe she comes back to Fanø one day and visits us. Nothing is impossible in this world.
She has touched our lives in a profound, very positive way.

We wish you a wonderful trip around Europe, Yi Ping.
You are a beautiful person and we are very grateful that you came to visit Fanø.

Bon Voyage!

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8/3; International Women´s Day

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I just found this one floating in my Facebook river.
It put a smile on my face and it touched my heart.
So I thought this will be the perfect little way
for me to say
Happy 8. of March today…
May women be seen as the equals that they are.
And may Love prevail.
Look at these people. 4 minutes of eyecontact.
Increasing intimacy. Into me see.
Aren´t we just a spectacular species.
Tremendous, this! 🙂

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Migrator Me

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I´m out in my hut behind the apple tree in the back garden. Sun is shining, sky is blue, the birds are apparently about to return from Africa and the other nice warm places they have spent the winter…(lucky featherbeings)…
And me, I have just said goodbye to one of the best best friends in my life. She´s just been here to visit me Thursdag ´till Sunday. Haven´t seen her since autumn 2013. We used to live together in the nineties in Bergen, work together, party together and grieve together… It is always heart shattering for me to part with her again after having had the gift of spending time together…

So I´m sitting here in my ListeningHut, and Marianne Faithfull is on my minidisc stereo, a mixtape of my favourite tracks which I used to listen to a lot when I lived in Bergen, the tape was made in… 1999? I think so.

I moved to Bergen, west coast of Norway, when I was 20, to go to university and study social sciences. I grew up in a fishing town 3 hours´ drive further down the west coast. I never felt at home in that town. People were either into drinking or the bible when we got to our teens. And I was into soccer and pianoplaying.
But in Bergen I felt at home. Living together with other students, sharing a house… wonderful years. 15 years all in all.
Although within that periode I also had a house in Wales for six years, as my main home base. And I lived a year in Bahrain, and a winter in Lysoysund, further north on the Norwegian coast. Spent some months in Stavanger as well, on the coast, south of where I grew up.
All this was because I met a Brit and fell in love with him in 1993.
He was a quality control man in the oil industry. So I would go and be with him where he was working. And we´d spend time at home together on Anglesey in Wales when he was between contracts.
But still, in between all the travelling and living in different places, I would go back to Bergen and pass another exam. I have finished every exam I have started to read for. I have a bachelor degree with two extra semesters added on. Because the subjects interested me, and it was financially possible to read on, on lower degree level. So I have a good width to my subjects of study.
I have not moved on to a Masterdegree. At least not yet. I can do one in either social anthropology or media science. But. Work is scarce in these fields, I will have to invent my own job so to speak, tell the potential employers what they can use me for… sell myself… which doesn´t feel tempting. Right now at least.

Also, the passing of exams is very hard work. And even more so when you have children. Not that easy to concentrate for hours or days on end, then.
Plus, I´m not as patient as I was, with the scientific code demands, the dry way of writing, building your thesis in an almost mathematically strict way for it to pass as valid science…
I deeply cherish what I learnt in University, it has a profound impact on my thinking and I would not want to be without that knowledge.
But now I am developing other sides to myself, the sides where my 6.sense gets to stand at the steering wheel… studying to be a vocal sound therapist… it makes me feel extremely happy and satisfied. I know for sure that I am doing exactly what is right for me, with this education. It is such a tremendous and liberating feeling.

Vocal sound therapy. And blogging. These two things lift my heart. Fill me with passion and joy. Finally I feel certain of a direction. Great relief, as all my life I have been sitting writing poems like this one:

Survival of a Misfit

What and how to do on earth, you´d think we would have known from birth! Searching for my occupation, giving love and exhaltation.
Reading, writing, song and dance, always been a true romance,
so I will just carry on enjoying them until I´m gone.

Endless Eneergy, please do show, me just where I have to go,
to make some money for my living, balance taking with the giving,
can´t see why I should be pooor financially for ever more!

Yes…
all my life I have been writing texts about that issue. Finding my purpose, my path, the certainty of how I can be of service to the light.
And now I feel it. It´s still fresh. It happened at my course in January. (It´s described in the post My SoundHealer Inauguration).

The Migrator Me.

I love to travel. I will tell you later about my year in Bahrain, and my years in Wales. I guess I´m an anthropologist at heart. Curious about people´s social ways and their…thoughts about the meaning of life…
In Bergen I had friends from many countries. International students. Growing up in Haugesund and Karmøy I was the leader of a local goup of Sos Racism. We held evening meetings with the asylum seeker women, for example, locking the door and drawing the curtains before they took their abayas off (veils), and the newborns where put to sleep on the pool table once they had been fed, and us girls cooked something tasty together in the kitchen, then afterwards they taught us their traditional dances, and sat telling dirty jokes!! I´m not kidding, these Arab ladies were great personalities, wonderful company, I was only 18-19 years of age but I did not feel looked down upon for being younger… I guess I will have to write about my Sos Racism work in a seperate post…

Yes I always felt attracted to people from other countries. My first boyfriend was from Kosovo, ex Jugoslavia. The men I have lived with have been from the U.K., Holland and now Denmark.

So I am a migrator. I felt at home in Bergen. And I feel at home here on Fanoe where I live now. I feel comfortable most places. Because I like exploring the unknown, and I am aware that home is where the heart is, which I feel free to interpret into meaning my heart is within myself. I am at home inside myself. Where ever I journey, I´m always at home.

Like a turtle. Or a snail. No. Not that slow moving. Haha… and I don´t need a shell, a shelter, house, to have my home with me where I go. My body is my temple, isn´t that what they say? My body is my house. My space ship.

So I feel safe in the unknown, trusting in trust like I blogged about the other day. (In Trust I Trust). And I feel curious, love to explore and learn, increase my understanding.

But what is the cost of being a migrator?
It is the saying good bye. To people dear. Living without regular contact with those I used to spend a lot of time with. Those who know me well, those who have stood by me in times of crises. Who have shared my happiest moments. Who have held me as I cried, and allowed me to hold them in their pain. The ones I have sat talking about life with through long nightly hours, sitting mirroring eachother, together gaining insight, finding out the best way to move forward in a situation in which one feels stuck…

I do miss my family in Norway. Especially the children. I grew up close to a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles…
My pillars in life from my childhood are mostly dead.
My grand dad whome I spent the days with instead of kindergarten until almost age 6, him and grandma lived upstairs from us, and I would be at home with him whilst my parents and grandma went to work… He died in 1995.
And my great grandma on my mother´s side. Died age 96 in 1999.

As a kid I used to go visit old people in my neighbourhood a lot. I adopted myself an extra pair of grandparents too. I didn´t connect very well with children. I preferred old people. With gentle smiles and plenty of time for listening conversations, teaching me to do cross word puzzles, and asking me if I wanted half an orange with a lump of brown sugar stuck into the middle of the sun coloured, juicy fruit…
They are all gone. As is my sweet darling motherinlaw.
And my wise, warm hearted father.

I still have lovely family members. Whome I love dearly. And they showed up 14 here to visit me last Summer and to celebrate my mom´s round birthday… how moving is that. It really touched me deeply. They rented two summerhouses and we just hung out for a week. Including my grandmother, in a wheelchair after her cancer treatment… I am so lucky to have them. It is truely a blessing to be born into a loving family. I probably owe them my ability to trust in trust. My openness, my feeling safe and at home inside myself. My curiousity and will to explore the unknown.

The cost of being a migrator.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Which is a saying that pisses me off. How much absence is healthy?! I miss the people from Norway. My family and my friends. Because I have had two children with such little time between, I have not been able to go visit much. Some of my closest friends I have not seen since 2011!!

I think that one of the absolute worst destinies one can have, is to be a refugee. To be forced by war or famine to leave your homeland and your beloveds, your everything, behind, and run away to survive. End up somewhere alien, cold, not understanding the language, feeling they don´t understand you, feeling maybe they really don´t care about even getting to know you…
Trying to find your feet in a brand new culture where everything works differently to what you know. At the same time as you have traumatic recent experiences in your soul, and you worry about the people still left at home, you call them there is no answer, and you know that all you really want is to go back and you can not go there because you will go to jail and be tortured if you show your face there… … …

Can it even be imagined?
I have sat with asylum seekers, listening to their stories and their worries. One young man from Romania set fire to himself one day, outside the asylum centre. I was there. I was interviewed on the radio about it afterwards… he was hospitalized. Good looking young lad in a leather jacket. Alex. He recovered. And he was sent back to Romania. No mercy.

I do miss Norway´s mountains. The woods. And talking my mother tongue without having to think before forming my expression.
To come home to my mother´s for christmas and share that life long ritual of traditional christmas meals… Imagine if Norway was a country run by fascists and I had escaped and I could never return. To MY country!!

Refugee. A victim of other people´s cruelty. Even if the reason is famine, this is still because of people´s cruelty. Someone is not sharing. Our earth has got plenty of food for all of us. Seeing famine victims makes me ashamed to be a westerner. If we cared. They would not starve. It is as simple as that. We fail them. The richest people on the planet rule the economy. They are called leaders of the first world. Well. Empathywise the west is most certainly not the first. Every day we throw away thousands of tons of food. And millions of people on this same little planet, die of starvation.
Where is the solidarity within the human nation.

?

The Migrator Me.
Has just waved goodbye yet again to my soul sister friend from Bergen.
Friday we sat in the local bar here, listening to a jam session, whilst eating sushi that we picked up from the tiny sushi place down the street here…
It was a fantastic night out. Next time I go to that bar, it will hold the memory of our time together there. The memory. Past tense. While I can only look forward to next time I´m in her presence.
Now by now. One here at the time. Such is the rhythm of the dance of life.

I have friends on Fanoe too. I have a couple of people I can talk openly with, about the challenges of everyday life. Thank goodness. I really need to have close friends to be heart to heart with. Of course I have my husband. But I need friends too. Who can see things from different angles.

I love being a migrator. Love that I have been allowed to live in Wales and in Lysoysund and in Bahrain. And that I have several places where I feel I come home when I go there.
And I love the fact that the place where I now live, I feel better than ever before. This little island of Fanoe is very both exciting and soothing to me, on many different levels. (I have written about it in other posts, especially in The Incredibles on Fanoe).

More than anything, I am sincerely extremely grateful for not being a refugee. A forced migrator, not able to return to one´s land and beloveds.
Yes the cost of my migrating is to miss people and places that I love. But I can go visit. Even move back there if I want to.
That is a freedom of movement which I don´t want to see taken away from me.

Well. Now this migrator feels to leave this pc in this little hut behind and migrate into the sunshine outside, joining the migrating birds and tell them I´m so happy to see them again. Soon I will hang my hammock up again. And lie listen to their chirps and joyful sounding tunes.
Spring is such a hopeful time.
I wish my brothers and sisters luck with their springtimes around our globe.
May Peace and Freedom be given to each one of us soon.

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Work?

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I´ve just been out in the car, driving around the island, enjoying the sunshine, from time to time stopping the car, jumping out to put up a poster. Freezing wind. Don´t notice from inside the car, where all is sunshiny beautiful nature to look at, whilst singing to my favourite cd.

I´m hosting an event, soon, you see. A woman I met at a course 3 years ago, she teaches kids age 1-8 how to play the fagott! She trained to learn to play the instruments in the states, from one of the world´s best fagott players. (I don´t remember his name right now, sorry about that). She also does more general music workshops, she does talks on music for adults, and she is a professional musician. As well as a storytelling poet, a trained dietist and lots of other exciting things, she´s indeed a very interesting human being.

Well, I asked her if she could come to Fanoe and do a workshop with kids here, and maybe a round of those talks she does for adults, too?! And she could and she would! So now she will come here three Wednesdays in February / March, teaching kindergarten kids in the morning, and giving talks about “The secret language of Music” in the afternoon. She´s giving it to Fanoe for a very favourable introducton price.

She will be staying at my place, since her home is a handful hours away from here. So we get some quality time together, for some meals, talks, laughs, the two of us and with my husband and kids.

And I get to be part of her courses, going to the afternoon talks and also helping out with the kindergartens kids.

What is work?

It is “the creating of value” according to the philosopher who went into the greatest depth on the concept of “work”, Karl Marx.

(For the record, I´m neither a marxist or a non marxist, I´m simply a thinking person standing on the shoulders of giants).

I have worked to make this event happen, asking the course holder, then helping fill in the fund application form, then lots of talks on details, does the kindergarten have instruments, where will we hold the adult talks (a place with a piano would be best)… A lot of communication back and forth with the 4 participating parties. Then finally creating a facebook event and hanging posters up.

Value….. worth….. I have worked without pay, one may say, but.     What is pay? Money doesn´t have to be part of a situation for it to be a win win one.

My work in this case creates value for everyone involved. My friend gets a job, Fanoe Council gets a great offer and their name on the pr material, the kindergarten gets a free workshop, the kids get 3 wonderful wednesdays learning about music, the adults on the island get exciting talks on music, no entrance fee.

My pay is that I get to spend time with my friend, and watch and learn from her workshop and talks. I gain inspiration and knowledge. And more than that, it feels very good to have been a bridge between parties, who all get something good out of my spotting and seizing the opportunity. I also gain experience in organizing events.

So. What is work. Work is to create value.

Volunteer work is no less valuable than work one does for wages. Being a stay at home parent also creates a lot of value. In my view it should receive a paycheck from society. It´s an investment in the future generation that they have a parent who has time for them the first few years. But even though “society” doesn´t see it like I do (at least the middle aged, rich men who rule our society, don´t see it that way)….. even though there is no paycheck following the position of household leader, it is still a position that creates a lot of value, and it is equal to other types of work.

Me, I´m unemployed. No paid job to go to. But I most certainly work. I create value. In my two board posts, and in my setting up this event. In my parenting. In my cooking and cleaning, grocery shopping and vegetable chopping and eternal washing machine and dishwasher emptying and filling and emptying…

This blog also requires 2-3 hours every time I upload a new post. Which I aim to do at least every 2-3 days.

My sound healing practice takes time too. Is it work to be a student? HELL YEAH, I would shout. Preparing for an exam?? That´s a lot more energy costly than turning up at a factory or office 9-5 every day, I dare say. Studying takes a lot of time, and focus. You´re never really off, free, finished, until the exam is passed in a month or year´s time.

Parenting too is more costly than going to a workplace and be with other adults and do what one is told. No one interrupting you in what you try to focus on, no one asking for you to find this or that or just carry them every five minutes day and night. Parenting is WORK. The most intense work I ever had, and the most rewarding too. Work.

I  don´t mean this derrogatory to the people who work in an office or factory, though. I too have had jobs. Money is necessary. Jobs are good, many of them. I´m just saying that in my experience, the jobs I have had, required a lot less of me than parenting and studying did.

I don´t mean to generalize. Ever. Many factors matter in each individual case. No need for oversimplifications. I´m just drawing some lines from my own life experience, and maybe it can inspire some thoughts in you who read it. Like I am inspired when I read other people´s thoughts on their experiences.

To work or not to work. Is a silly question. Every human being who is not depressed or anxious due to violence from other people… Every healthy and happy human being wants to work! Wants to create value. It´s like we´re designed to be little creators. That big bang must probably be an all mighty one to make this whole wide world come alive, huh.  :o)

Life is valuable. Time is valuable.

“Say you don´t want no diamond ring, and I´ll be satisfied.

Tell me that you want the kind of things

that money just can´t buy.

Coz I don´t care too much for money,

money can´t buy me love.”

(The Beatles)

When we talk about the rich and the poor, the haves and the havenots… the real currency in my book, is love.

If a person has all the money ever printed, but no love, is it a rich person? Is it a happy person? Is life valuable to that person? When I pretend to stand in such a person´s shoes, which is my regular exercise when I want to watch with empathy at something… with no love in my life, no gratitude, no warm smiles, no authentic sharing with anyone… money would not mean a thing. I would feel cold inside. Sad and lonely. Poor. Unalive. Like the things that money can buy.

Work and money are two separate things.

Work and love are two interconnected things.

The feelgood of creating… value… to contribute… increasing the good…

Nothing wrong with money, either, though. For goodness sake. That´s not my point. I have nothing against money. Bring it on, the more the merrier. I don´t buy that money is the root of all evil.

My point is just that this habbit we seem to have, of thinking hierarchically, pyramid shaped, that the work that is paid for in money, is worth more than the work that is paid for in other currencies… it is an illusion.

There is no better than. There is no more worthy people and other less worthy people. We have to get over this idiotic narrowmindedness. We are all equal.

So let´s all just be proud of ourselves that we do our best, and allow our neighbours and siblings to do their best in the way that they themselves define it. This would be respectful.

And it would be treating everyone as equally valuable.

Equal value creators.

It would make our existence work better.

Work more peacefully.

This, in turn, would create a big value.

To all of us, equally.

Namasté.

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About breast feeding

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The following is 3 replies by me in a facebook thread
25.of January -15 … underneath a lovely photo of a woman
breast feeding her newborn. The discussion was on how Facebook censors that kind of pictures as offensive, whilst accepting photos of violence.
One man said he was breastfed until he was 10 years old, and so I replied what i quote underneath. I have not included the man´s words or name, I am only interested in sharing my own view on this subject, which as a matter of fact is an incredibly important one;
How do we culturally view the act of feeding babies the natural way, and what consequences does our cultural definition of it, have?
Here goes: 

I breastfed my eldest until she was three. Seen documentaries of people breastfeeding until the reflex in the child disappears in the teens. Nothing weird about it. If the mother and the child both want to hold on to that unique, bonding interaction, then that is good for them and their choice. Nothing sick about it. What’s sick is people’s eagerness to judge other people.

I too have read that there is measured correlation between breastfeeding and how well the kids do in their studies. Not that I think it is an absolute, i.e.that kids that don’t get it can’t excell too. But it’s definately another reason to follow nature if possible. Immune system also benefits. Mother’s milk is designed for young ones growing. Foolish not to use it. Why do women in some cultures choose not to? It hurts like hell in the beginning. Two weeks is a long time to spend crying while the baby eats. Which is most its awake time. And also, our cultural view on breasts as being meant to look good for men. And looking good does not seem to include being breastfeeding or, worse, how they look when their natural deed is done. If men/media praised breastfeeding, it would, i suspect, strongly reduce the amount of women who fear becoming ugly. Really.
A mother should be looked upon as a superhero. Only she can bring new human life to earth. Mothering is the biggest challenge I know of. I have three kids, all born without painkillers, the two last ones at home in water. All breastfed of course, because I am lucky to be able to. Youngest one is 3 in march, we still breastfeed bedtime and morning, and we will stop gradually some time I don’t know when, it will happen naturally as he grows and we adapt into new needs. Yes this topic is actually a very important one. For feminism, children’s rights, and the sake of… love, for crying out loud. Bullying breastfeeders is just totally ignorant, and has severe consequences for mothers’ self pride and their children’s health. If I was God(dess), I would silence bullies. Period.

Yes, economy, as always, pulls at the puppet strings of society… same in Europe. Although over here at least we get decent parents’ leave for the newborns. Myself I stay at home. Again because I am lucky, to have the (financial) choice. We are pretty broke living off one wages, but other values are more important to us.                                                      In Denmark there is actually a slow but growing trend, that staying at home mothering is a priviledge symbolizing wealth. One can afford to. People have four kids and stay at home nurturing them. Isn’t this a nice turn of fashion?  I don’t say one way of living is better than others. But i do say that society should give families options. Household Leader should be a paid job. I think if it was, then most families would choose to keep one parent in the home those first five years of their little ones’ lives. Maybe that way, even the percentage of divorce would go down. As the years with little kids is the time where divorce happens more than at any other time in the marriage. So yes. Social economy. Big factor. -y.  🙂
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Freedom of Expression

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You know, this blogging is all new to me. I have always written, filled notebook after notebook, since age of five, talking to myself in a way, gaining clarity from seeing my thoughts and feelings in writing. Only when I met my now husband, 8 years ago this coming spring, did I start to realize my poems and rants could be of value to others than myself.

I write in a very personal style, I guess you can call it. I am not educated in litterature science, so I can’t tell you if it fits in a genre or not. And I don’t care, actually, either. I write from my heart, and to me the focus is more on the content than on the form. (Although to play with form is good fun too).

One thing I have noticed within myself, though, after having started sharing so…  internationally here in this blog online… (I do it all the time on a smaller scale, on Facebook, but that’s not as long pieces, at the same depth as here… ) I have noticed an inner unrest about the question of sharing too much, about whether I cross the privacy barriers of people I write about. Not that I write about others a lot. No. I am conscious not to.

But I have told very openly the story around my soundhealer inauguration, and we were 32 people involved. I have verified with our teacher that the text is okay. And also with the person who gave me the healing session in trance. So it’s in the clear in that way. But I have still shared information that to some of my fellow students maybe feel is private…

I have also shared the story about my beloved Ellen’s death in very unusual amount of detail. It is a taboo subject, death. Death beds. I am very careful about going into details that may be misunderstood as not being respectful, or show too much of an other person’s feelings… but still. When I am so open hearted about my own feelings and thoughts, how do I know if I unawarely come to hurt someone’s feelings? Unless they tell me. And most people actually don’t tell a lot or very easily, about their feelings. At least not the ones I know… (the solution will be to ask them directly, I guess. Face to face. Which I find hard to do. But I will.)

I feel that it is very important with openness. The beat poets used to say “Make the private public!” and “Write your life!” I think these are good aims. When we word what is difficult, we lift taboos and can help eachother find solutions. So I don’t mean to apologise for my openness. I just hope that my sense for discretion and concern is good enough. And if someone gets hurt by my openness, then I hope they will reach out to me and let me know, so that I can adjust, edit, reshape the information given so it doesn’t feel too private for them.

You know, these terrible happenings in Europe over the drawing of the prophet Muhammed…

Of course we in the west can draw what we want. We don’t follow Islamic law. We won’t be beheaded or whipped for having gone against God’s wish of not making pictures of Muhammed.

What I don’t really get, is the need to draw Muhammed. When we know that someone will be very upset with a certain action, isn’t it plain kindness to refrain from triggering that pain?

Of course a free and open debate on politics is a democratic right. And religious institutions are big power factors actually, owning land, having money, telling the population whether to use contraceptives or not, how to understand homosexuuality, abortion…. their views on human sexuality, claiming they know God’s unloving judgment upon everybody that’s not heterosexual and married, having intercourse only as a sacrifice in order to make children…… (I wonder why did God give us the sense of sexual joy if we are not supposed to enjoy it?)

I think these are political issues. Human rights issues. Equality issues.

Hence, when religious leaders involve politics in their talks, claiming some people are better than other people…. then this subject matter will be debated, people will criticize what they feel is not just. Jesus, Muhammed, Buddha and the rest of them would applaud this. They all talked about Love. Kindness. Tolerance. Equality.

So yes. Political debate is a must, and religions are part of that arena.

But.

Can we really not discuss politics without breaking the holy rule of the opponent? Would we not get further if we showed respect, and told the opponent we would refrain from drawing Muhammed as we could see that it hurt him. Would that not be a better step towards helping the opponent listen to our message?

It would show empathy, respect and tolerance. The opponent would then possibly answer with showing us the same fine qualities. The parties would be able to hear eachother. Trust could start to build. This is called dialogue. Peaceful communication.

Instead we shout:

“WE HAVE THE FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION,

SO WE DO AS WE PLEASE AND YOU CAN’T STOP US!!”

How mature is this really? How ethical is it? To me it sounds like three-yearolds in a kindergarten. “Give me that bucket now, because my dad is stronger than your dad and he can throw you up on that roof over there!”

When I was younger (80s), (well every day previous to today I was younger but),

when I was in my teens, then… there was a concept at home there in Norway called “freedom under responsibility”…. one was for example free to go to the kiosk outside the school grounds, under the expectation that we would return for the next class… we were free to go to a disco, assuming we were responsible enough not to drink alcohol…

I think responsibility is a very central part of freedom. These two words are central in being an adult, a citizen functioning smoothly in social settings… without these two words, who will we be? Irresponsible and unfree…

How responsible is it to be drawing Muhammed, knowing that millions of people will get extremely upset by this? Is it really necessary to do that, in order to criticize politics and religion? Could one not draw a mullah instead? Or use Jesus and Buddha, talking to each other of how they wish Muhammed would come out of his drawer soon….. come on…. there is a million ways of using carichature, (and I am a great fan of that art form).

What good has those drawings done for the world? Oh it has shown the moslems who is the boss? That we dictate to them and they don’t dictate to us?

Charming.

Humanity is so disappointingly immature in so many ways. All these wars. And polluting earth. Making animals and plants distinct. Actually being cruel. To animals, to women, children, poor people, homosexuals, “other races” …… very immature.

And we can not actually claim that we do not know better!!! Can we?

All we need is love. Love. Love is all we need.

And the world is ruled by greed.

Freedom of Expression, used for hatred breed.

We need responsible  people of ethics, to lead..

Cruelty begets cruelty. Kindness begets kindness.

Let’s please hurry up into a higher level of consciousness.

Our irresponsible behaviour is making us unfree.

The moslems are our siblings, not our enemy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My Videopoems “Linking”

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This is the video installation “Linking” which I made in 2011, for an exhibition with the same title (only in Danish; “Kobling”).

I also released a book the day of the exhibition opening; 16.of April. “Heart Matters – a round abouts and previous pieces.”

The book script was the starting point of the project. I took the script to the local fine artist Margit Enggaard and asked her if she wanted to do something together. She did! 🙂

So she created wonderful, big, colourful paintings inspired by my poems. And I used the book script to make video pieces, filming her paintings and her gallery and using that on the visual side, with my reading of the poems, some turned into songs, on the sound side… I used photos of Margit´s paintings as illustrations in my book.

Apart from Margit´s painings and gallery, I filmed nature and sculptures in Denmark, Norway and Hastings, UK.

 

There are ten poems and five songs in the installation.

38 minutes long. Hope you enjoy it!

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Who wins world war 3?

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My facebook stream is full of drawings and words about the tragedy in France. The murdering of cartoon artists.

It seems I am one of very few lucky ones to have escaped the closeup videoclip of a man being assassinated on prime time news.

Not that I don´t want to know what is happening in the world. I just don´t think it´s my duty to follow the melodramatic media coverage of what happens.

I know plenty about evil. Fascism. Fear. I refuse to inject it into my nervous system voluntarily, daily, through tv.

“The war on terror.” A polarization of our understanding of who is “us” and who is “them”. “The other ones”. “The bad side”. It used to be “the communists”, now it is “the moslems”.

Ku Klux Klan does not represent all christians. Just like fascistic groups within islam do not represent all moslems.

I will wait until the emotional waves quiet down a bit, before I find the sources to which I am willing to listen for analysis and understanding of this case.

The world will not gather strength through me falling into the whirlpool of blame and grief and accusations and fear, I have done it so many times before, spending days in deep sadness for the state of humanity, fighting to keep from falling under and drowning in hopelessness.

I will keep my calm. We have another symptom of the known social illness amongst us, the humans. What we need is unity, not increased feelings of separateness.

World war 3. Has it started without us realizing it? One thing is the fear of terror, another issue is the unfair (non) sharing of material goods on this planet. Then of course there is the polluting of earth, air and water. Oh yes and the scarcity of water. The battle over oil rights. The battle against GMO. And the issue of censorship / jailing “whistleblowers” for disclosing information about systematic violence.

Democracy. Where is there democracy? All I can see is state elites working together with corporations in stealing from the poor to give to the wealthy.

When I studied political science in university, they told me history moves in cycles. It repeats itself. The way things are now, it reminds me of the 1930s. High unemployment, increasing racism. Let me tell you this: If everybody had enough food and shelter, time to be with their children, safe health care. Then there wouldn´t be aggression between different “groups of people”. Then everybody would be busy filling their lives with love, enjoying their surroundings. In harmony, because everybody knew that whatever we had, we shared. Equally.

Equality.

One of the most important words ever invented.

Another thing they say about history is that it is written by the victor. The winner. But who can win this “war on terror”? This “war on gene manipulated food”, this “war on unbreathable air and undrinkable water”… ???

The issues we face are global, and we need to stand as one human nation, not alienated in imagined opposing communities.

Actually, this world war 3 or global war 1 or whatever meaningless label we give it, it is a struggle between the rulers and the ruled. Between the exploiting bigmoney companies, and the rest of us, the people, the citizens of Planet Earth.

Who will be the winner? Well. Either the rulers continue their path of profitmaking, and we go under. No winners. Or the ruled get up and refuse to be overruled anylonger. This taking over of power I guess will have to happen through revolution. I don´t think the corporations and politicians can change this sick system fast enough for us to survive. Do you?

We have to die from something. So there is nothing to fear, I guess. But I hope to die from something peaceful. And don´t we all?

The real sadness lies in that there is nothing stopping us from all having a good life and a peaceful death. The only thing stopping us, is greed. A handful of very greedy, ruthless, heartless people.

Next lifetime I want to reincarnate on a greedless planet.

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