Category Archives: Spirituality

Vocal Sound Therapy

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The video shows my teacher demonstrating sound scanning on her son.
I´m half way through a two year long course with her, where she teaches the method of vocal sound therapy.

I just spent the weekend with her and 28 fellow students, in the Unitars´ church in Copenhagen. This time it was a bit different from usual. Because like I told you in my previous post “My SoundHealer Inauguration”, she has just been on breakfast tv, together with a fireman whose tinnitus she cured. The healing session itself was also televised.
So now people from all over the country call her and write her, asking her to please remove their tinnitus! Therefore, this weekend we received 12 people with tinnitus, so she could show us how to treat them.

Saturday morning we put 12 massage tables up, divided into teams of three, where one of us lay down and the other two co operated on the treatment of the patient. It is not necessary to be two therapists of course, but for this experiment it was beneficial.
After practicing on eachother and finding the best way to form the upcoming event, the tinnitus sufferers arrived.
First we sang a song that Githa has made, a song that relaxes the physical body, and lifts the etherical body up, into lightness and rest.
When they had been sung into deep relaxation, we gave them undertones to give grounding to the electrical system that a human body is.
After that they received a soundscan on their torsoes. When a tone resonnated, it was kept steady and strengthened by other voices.
After that we focused on their hearing centres, placed just above their ears, searching for the tone that resembled the sound of each person´s tinnitus. When the tone was found, the person gave a sign and the tone was kept.
Some noticed no effect. Some had a buzzing of energy in the area around the ears. Others noticed the tone changed or turned into a toneless buzzing. And 2-3 of them said their tinnitus disappeared.

Most often it will take 3-6 treatments to permanently remove a tinnitus with vocal sound therapy. (And it may return again with time). The best results are found in cases where the tinnitus was caused by a sudden noise. Stress related tinnitus can be more difficult to move, because it is then a symptom of something else, the cause is not a damage to the ear system as such. Githa gives no guarantees. And she openly also says that one can read about the technique in the third book in her triolgy about sound (being translated into English as we speak), so everyone can actually do what she does, learn how to work at removing a tinnitus.

Just the thought that it can be possible to get rid of a tinnitus, is brand new, and gives a lot of hope. Conventional medicine is still unable to remove tinnitus.

One of my fellow students is actually having success with removing tinnitus already.
And I influenced one of my fellow students´ tinnitus yesterday when we p+acticed!
Oh what a feeling, dancing on the ceiling!
It disappeared! But only for half a second. 🙂
Twice. That´s one second of tinnitus-freedom I caused.
Hahaha…. It is a start, isn´t it. It´s very exciting.

The tinnitus person on my massage table? Well… she got a buzzing feeling around her left ear… And she very much appreciated the soundscan that my fellow student did on her torso. We will call her in a couple of weeks and see if she has noticed any bettering. Often it takes a while before the effect becomes clear. I did find the tone that matched the beep inside her head. After that I just deliver the sound and it is up to greater powers to cause a healing or not. I just let light through. Vocal Light.

After the tinnitus session, we were to assist Githa in one of her concerts. She is doing a tour in Denmark now, called Sound in Silence after her new cd. On the cd is the “lullaby”, the song to relax the body which I just told you about. Plus a chakra meditation where one sings along with her, making the tones for the different chakras, and connecting each tone to the colour of the chakra.

The old church was full of people who came for this happening.
She did the chakra meditation with us all. Which means we all sat on our chairs, eyes closed, singing long tones, saaaaaa (do)…. reeeeeee (re)…… ghaaaaaa (mi)…….
whilst visualizing each tone´s colour as we sang. It is the tone names they use in India. She studied the art of singing there.
Sa-Re-Gha-Ma-Pa-Dha-Ni-Sa.
Root-hara-solar plexus-heart-throat-third eye-crown-soul flower.
Red-orange-yellow-green-blue-purple-white-golden.
Very simple. A great way of accessing deep breathing and going into meditation.
Plus it is so beautiful to listen to, when we sing it many people together.

After the chakra meditation, us students were asked to come up to her, and once we were gathered, she gave us the microphone one by one, so we could say our names and tell the audience where we live. All our phone numbers and addresses are listed on Githa´s homepage. So that people who want a treatment, can contact us. They get it for a low price now whilst we are in training. Githa does not give treatments at the moment. She is busy spreading the knowledge of the method, teaching us, making cds, touring, getting her books translated, co operating with scientists who want to try and measure the effects of the sound healing…

After we introduced ourselves, the audience were told they could take the mats they brought with them and lie down on the church floor. Many did, there were people lying everywhere! 🙂 Never saw a church floor used that way. Quite a moving sight, actually.

And us students surrounded them, we formed a circle around the audience on their mats and their chairs, us lining the walls. Then we sang the lullaby to them. Some of us gently touching the ones on the floor that were within reach.

After the song, we gave the audience a group sound healing, which means we sing long tones, blend into eachother´s sounds and together weave a soundscape, where the tones intuitively change into louder then softer, and from high tones into low tones, and back again, harmonizing, occasionally moving into disonnance for a little trembling piece of time… we all listen to eachother and come into the tapestry carefully. It always moves me to be part of that. At some point, we quietly come to a hault. Quite strange how it can stop in such a way, without a prior agreement.

After the collective soundhealing, Githa sang two songs from her amazing album “To heal the space between us”. I love her songs so much. The lyrics are affirmations. Simply. Perfect for affirmation work. And the melodies are just wonderful.
She actually played my two favourite songs from the whole album! “Gratitude is a grace” and “Any wrong condition”. (I don´t remember if that´s the proper titles, but it´s the first line of each song).
You should really check that album out. She made it together with her musician husband Lars Muhl. They are both so skilled. And together… I will share a song underneath here, so you can get an impression.

You know, the album is actually how I first got to know of Githa. I loved the music so much that I read her trilogy. One book just after the other. I was mezmerized by what she explained in those books, and it made me feel that I wanted to take her 2 year long course. But her methods were quite… intense… she uses regression therapy as well, and she deals with people in a very special, loving way…
so I decided to go to one of her and Lars´s concerts so I could meet her in person, get an impression of whether I would dare to trust her enough to go into that training. I wrote her an email and asked if it was okay if me and my husband brought our baby boy to one of their concerts. Coz he was only a few months old at that time. She wrote me back and said ofcourse, just bring your baby, no problem!
And so we did. We drove all the way to Odense, and on the chairs in the concert place lay lyrics from their cd, the audience was welcome to sing along!!
My husband and I and our tiny Linus-Ferdinand settled in the back row where it would be easy to leave the roon if he started making disturbing noises.

And they went on stage, and Githa laughed and giggled a lot like she always does, full of humour and just radiating warm heartedness.
She made funny, loving remarks about the baby concert guest, and the atmosphere both between her and Lars and between them and the audience, was just…. something else. Unlike anything I ever experienced. Yes I know those are big words. I have been to a lot of concerts in my life. But the audience participating in the singing, given the lyrics… first time I ever experienced that. It created something quite special.
A feeling of being in the music together, allowed to participate as equals…it made me feel so happy.
Githa played her saxophone, which she hadn´t done in years, she said, and she laughed and laughed when she made a false sound on the sax, she was so funny.
I could clearly sense that I would be able to trust her. Go into that training with her.
Where I knew my limits would be pushed.

So then, when her course was about to start up again, second group of students, I applied to join. And was accepted.
We were 42 at first. Now we are 29. The first year has been very intense, her showing us regression therapy, us going into moments of trauma from previous lifetimes.
And “singing ourselves free”, giving sound to inner tensions, releasing old blockages in our nervous system.
It sounds strange, I know. It is new ways. She is a pioneer. Groundbreaker.

It works, though. I can feel the effect on myself, and so can my fellow students.
Her books also describe many cases.
They describe her methods and experiences in great detail. Very openly.
Not making it sound secretive or difficult, and again and again emphasiszing that to be a good sound therapist, one needs to be good at being nothing. That we are only channels, letting power come through us.
It is not the healer that performs the effect, creates the healing.
It is the vocal light, used in the way that was described to her by Dr.Karl through the help of a trance medium.

!!

Read her books. She tells the whole, fascinating story there.
She works in close connection with Spirit. And she is not afraid to say it out loud.
To me, that is just… such a relief.
She´s got the courage.
And she just shines.

I feel very honoured to be a student of hers. To see the field take form. Watch her work.
I have had many good teachers in my life, and I am deeply grateful to each one of them. This time it´s in a field that is only beginning to find its feet in the world.
It is so extremely exciting to follow the research
into what sound can do for human health!

And when I get old, I can tell my great grandchildren that I was amongst her first students. “I dared believe in the radical stuff she taught,” I will say. “And look now how her perspective on Sound Medicine has spread around the world, and led to the discovery of new links between different fields of knowledge. Integrating spirituality, art and science. She was at the forefront of the shift in paradigme which took place in so many fields of thinking, on earth there in the early two thousands… we couldn´t see the full picture back then, everyone just kept on questioning the old ways and exploring alternative solutions, and the world view slowly but surely changed into what we see today…”

Yes. Consider me sold on this. 🙂 I´m in. All the way.
Vocal sound therapy suits me perfectly.

Like I once wrote, in my twenties:

I want to live my life amused, amazed and enthused.

I want to feel at peace, and joyful.

So thank you, Uni-Verse.
For giving us Vocal Sound Therapy.
I Love It.
I Truely Do.

Here is one of the great songs from Githa and Lars´album “To Heal The Space Between Us”.

Enjoy!

🙂

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Temple Zen la Gendronniére

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temple zen la gendronnière

The year was 1992 and I was 20 years of age. I had just started university in Bergen, and in my spare time I was training the martial art iaido; “Japanese swordmanship”. We were about ten people, meeting for 4 hours every Thursday. The leader of our dojo was a very charismatic and inspiring man who studied law, philosophy and religion, master degree level. We spent those weekly hours doing kata, “patterns” with our samurai swords, practicing our kiai screams, and in many different ways challenging our egos and consciousness. If someone needed to cry in a corner for four hours, it was accepted and embraced. He or she would be left alone, offered to talk by our trainer, but not forced and not confronted harshly. It was an oasis for us young 20 somethings.

We didn´t aim towards new colours of belts. We aimed towards our knowing ourselves emotionally and spiritually. Often our trainer would sit and tell us stories about Buddha, Jesus, or an other great philosopher, switching on our appetite for learning from the great thinkers, and not least, switching on that part of us that recognized truth eccoing within when we heard it presented. No dogma. Only here, now. Nothing holy. Zensho Iaido, our club was called. Ground breaking years for me. I still have my hakama. (Samurai black trousers). I aquired the yellow belt. And when I one fine day get the money, I for sure will buy myself a samurai sword.

Our trainer had told us about an old zen temple in France where he had been. So that Summer, I went there. I was supposed to go together with one of the other guys in our group, but he dropped out. So I sat myself on that plane, 20 years old, no knowledge of the French language, and off I flew. The people seated next to me on the plane, helped me through the airport, on to a train to the trainstation… there I met a Spanish family, who brought me onto the train with them and dropped me off in a taxi in Blois, telling the chauffeur where I was going! Hahaha…. I wasn´t worried for a minute. I was just taken care of step by step, and never had time to stress about anything.

In the taxi, the driver and I chatted away using gesticulations. He asked me for how long I was going to stay at the temple. I told him “five days, ten fifteen, I don´t know!” We laughed….

When we arrived in the forrest there, it was pitch dark. I paid him and there I was, standing in front of a huge old castle like house… I went up the stairs, through the open door. Nobody. I left my luggage there, and went back outside. From a distance I could hear music! I thought do they really have neighbours near by? And started walking towards the sound… on a little path between palm trees… Now I could see some kind of light source… The music went “Give it away, give it away, give it away now…!” Red hot chilli peppers! I loved that album! I kept walking, and there. Between the trees. There was a bonfire, and around it sat skinheads! I hesitated for a sec, back home I was the leader of Sos Racism, and skinheads were far from my favourite kind of people… But these people greeted me with big smiles, so I walked closer. There was a hut behind them, a bar of some sort, it seemed…

“Hello,” they said. “Are you coming to the temple?” I nodded. “Welcome! We are having a little party tonight, as we are finished with ten very serious days of meditation.”
Oh…
Soon I had a glass of French beer in my hand, and was dancing bare feet in the sand by the bon fire. The entrance could not have been better!

I slept on a mattress on the floor upstairs in the dojo, on the women´s side. The gallery on the other side was for the men. It was the cheapest accomodation they had. And it was fine.

Every morning we woke up by a monk ringing a bell. Fifteen minutes later we all sat in lotus positions downstairs in the dojo. First there was buddhist chanting. Soothing to the mind. Then we just sat. First half, one of the four main monks gave a talk. Zen stories. Then we walked around in a circle for a bit. Second half of the zazen the big, big bell outside the dojo was rung, every ten minutes or so.

After meditation, we had breakfast. Women and men on separate tables. Chanting before starting, and same breakfast every day. A porridge one could put salt or sugar on. Tasted good.

After breakfast wee had “samoo”… work… some went to the field to pick onions etc, others cleaned bathrooms, others helped in the kitchen to prepare the meals of the day. I mostly helped out in the kitchen. All those delicious vegetables. Which they grew themselves. Wine was collected from a farmer near by, in buckets! Very exotic to Norwegian little me.

After work, we had a break, and after that a meal before more meditation, as I remember. We meditated 3 times a day, then after a week, 5 times a day… as I remember it.

In some evenings we could have wine in the forest tmple bar. We also had wine with dinner. Delicious dinners. Other nights, there was no alcohol. Then meditation took the main seat.

Zazen was nice for me and it was hard. It is actually very difficult to sit still first thing in the morning, for a long time, trying to empty your mind. And then again later in the day. And again.
I remember thinking, “Hey, I will save these thoughts until I´m sitting there!” … my mind saving up thoughts to be preoccupied with, during the time it was supposed to empty itself…hehehehe…
What can I say… I sat and I sat. And me staying there did change my inner self radically. It surely did. For the better and for ever. Actually.

I stayed for 12 days. The administration told me I could stay on, and pay them later! But I wanted to go home to my new boyfriend. Silly me. I wish I had stayed for another week or two. But yeah, I was only 20 and I was in love.

I was the youngest person there. And the only Norwegian. And one of the very few persons present that had not been there before. Most of the 250 temple guests had returned to la gendronniére many many times, Summer after Summer. It was the first zen temple in Europe, founded by the late Japanese man Taisen Deshimaru. His four main monks were now in charge of the zen temple.

What did I learn there? Many different things.
The most important of course being the experience of sitting still in meditation.
I learnt of Kyosaku, the asking for a monk to hit me on my shoulder with a flat stick, in order to help me either relax or wake up, regain equilibrium…
I enjoyed very very much the musicality of the bell, the chanting, the big Tibetan singing bowl, the sound of the head monk telling anecdotes in French which were then translated into English, in a very pleasant sounding melody and rhythm in addition to the content of the story…
I learnt in the evenings of friendship across languages, and that the French men´s flirtation was not to be taken too seriously… I learnt to take orders of “crepe avec beur et sucre”, and to find the right change for people when they paid across the bar there…
I also learnt something through two different confrontations I had with people there:

One, he was the gardener, a Canadian man in his 50s or so… Frank? I remember once skipping down the pathway after dinner, on my way to the bonfire and bar, and I was making up a song as I often do… some kind of rhyme, I don´t remember it now. I passed Frank, and he said to me that I was not allowed to sing like that. Because what was from the dojo belonged in the dojo and should not be brought outside of it. “But what about that nothing holy, no dogma – thing…?” I replied, bewildered. He asked me if I thought I was smarter than Taisen Deshimaru. Which was the end of that conversation. It felt like a punch in my belly. But it did not make me think that his opinion was more right than my own. Nothing holy. I like that.

Two, I was sitting in the dojo in meditation and my legs were hurting so bad in that lotus position. So I decided to sit in seisa, which is the samurai start position, sitting on one´s knees, ready like a cat to react if someone attacks. I was sitting there enjoying how this position allowed my body to be quiet so I could indeed focus on silencing my mind.
Then suddenly came a monk and hit me on the shoulder with his kyosaku stick!! Which I had NOT asked for. Normally you ASK to be hit. Or else they never hit you. But now he did!
Automatically, on reflex, I jumped down into lotus position.
He didn´t say a word, I just instinctively knew that´s what the issue was.
Beating heart. Shock. Meditation continued.
Afterwards, whilst we were all 250 of us finding our shoes to leave the dojo, the monk came storming up to me, he shouted at me “Why you not do zazen?! Why you not do zazen?!” I don´t remember if I answered him. It feels foggy. He was shaming me. Young as I was, I did not know that. Had it been today, he would have gotten a reply, and I would have gone to the main monks and asked what this behaviour was supposed to mean. Today I call such behaviour violence.

So those two episodes taught me something about authority. How some believe they have the right to correct others, in an unfriendly way. In the name of what? Of zen?! I do not accept it. I do not.

I include those two anecdotes here because I think they are important knowledge. Not to damage the zen temple. It was one of my life´s most important experiences. It really was. It shook me and woke me up. In more positive ways than negative.

The time I spent there, with myself. Is what I mean. That I was actually sitting there. Disciplined. Discovering my own resistance against it. And discovering how it became easier, and a layer of silence formed at the bottom of my inner self. A layer that I ever since have built on to.
I feel certain that I have spent time in temples before, in previous lifetimes. And I certainly would like to do it again as well. There is peace and freedom to find in a regulated daily routine. The meeting with oneself there, sitting. Trying not to think. It is … revealing … I learnt many new things about myself those 12 days in Temple Zen la Gendronniére in the Summer of 1992.

For many years after that, I wanted to go back, I longed to go back.
Then I met another man, and focus changed… but still. I still have those black and white photos we could buy, of the instruments in the dojo, and the veteran German soldier who always took his legs off before he sat down to meditate… I remember Muhammed from Marocco, and Francis Brown from London, and many others. I stayed in touch with some of them for years…and still hope to see them again some day…

Would I go back today? Yes. I would.
And I will recommend it to every human being who wants to dwell on and increase their ability to in essence feel presence.

Here Now
and U are a part of it.
Remember the importance of
to sit.

Let me end this post with a haiku poem from my book:

Zensho Iaido

Shiny, still mirror
Sword slashes the autumn storm
Smilingly quiet

& the original text, in my mother tongue Norwegian:

Zensho Iaido:

Blankt og rolig speil
Sverd spjærer høstorkanen
smilende stille

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So Easy

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I don´t know why the title of this post is So Easy. I guess I will know when I´ve finished writing.

I was planning to name it A Special Friend. But. Ok. Crazy as I am, I let impulse take control over my impulse control. Sometimes that´s a good thing. Let us see where it leads us today. Following those loops indeed…

I had a friend. A very special friend. He lived in Bergen, Norway. I met him on a dancefloor one Saturday night. Actually it was the 3. of November 2003. He just suddenly stood right in front of me there. Same height as myself, dressed in army jeans and a t-shirt, like myself, slim and athletic, he just stood there suddenly, looking me straight in the eyes, all serious. I recognized him immediately. You know that feeling? I knew that I knew him. Though I had never seen him before, as far I could remember.

We spent that night dancing, and from then on we were lovers and friends. I did not want to commit to a steady relationship, as I had moved out from my ex boyfriends´ place just 7 months prior. I needed time alone, to find my feet again, be free to be me, uncompromisingly, like everyone needs to, after a break-up.

Richard understood this need completely, and never tried to convince me to do anything I didn´t want to do. He was very openminded and openhearted, a very generous and caring man, exact same age as myself, we were both 31 when we met.

He was a very fascinating person. He had been the lifeguard of the president of Uganda, and hence had been forced to flee his country when the army took over the power. He had two children back home, and an ex wife. He also had an orphanage that he had built and kept on running from his address in Norway. He had a mother whome he loved very dearly. Many friends in Kampala.

In Bergen when I met him he had just arrived as a UN refugee. He was very African in his thoughts and actions, and I loved that about him. The way he spoke, the way he laughed from the depth of his belly, that great big smile… he was full of stories from his childhood, and comparative cultural anecdotes, about how things seemed to him the same or different between Ugandan culture and Norwegian culture. He got involved in the Red Cross, especially their Multimix group where young people from all countries met up and got to know each other. He started an NGO called “Guide for Better”. He was writing on a screen play about troubled youth, he worked in an old people´s home, he was active in the church and had many friends both Norwegian and from all over, he always said “I´m not from Uganda, I am from Earth”, he did not, like many do, “stick to his own”, he met all people who crossed his path with an open mind and with a smile. He had a person in his life that he referred to as “my Norwegian mother”, he was a very social and kind and caring man. Always reaching out, offering a helping hand.

Well. We saw each other for 3 years, sporadically, both busy with our individual everyday things, but always happy to see each other from time to time. Then I fell in love with someone else. Told Richard I was going to move to Denmark with this guy I was with. He was happy for my happiness, though sad to see me go, so far away. We agreed we would stay in touch. Friends for ever.

He started in training to be a welder in the oil industry. So the times I was back in Bergen visiting, he was always away. We wrote each other sometimes. Then the Summer of 2013, I went to Bergen, and low and behold he was there too, so we met up. He came out of the city centre to where I was staying with my husband and 3 kids at my old girlfriend´s place, where she lives with her English husband and their two sons.

I was quite…not nervous but… eager….to see how it would go, the meeting between Richard and my husband. But knowing them both, of course they were just both totally calm and polite and warm towards each other. I was so relieved. This meant I could keep Richard in my life somehow, keep the friendship and let it develope, I so treasured his views on things, his sense of humour and his loving heart, and I knew my husband would too, when he got to know him. Richard would also love my husband´s ways, and my kids would have a wonderful unclefriend in him. I walked him to the train after we all shared a good Asian meal, and we were both so happy realizing we would see more of each other in the years to come than we had in the last 6 years since I had moved to Denmark. We hugged, and his train arrived. He said, oh I have some great news actually, shall I wait for the next train? I said no, I better get back to the others so they don´t worry, he said yes, you are probably right, gave me his wonderful big smile and jumped on board the train, waving out the window.

I went back to my girlfriend´s, and our holiday continued. I felt so peaceful and relieved. Like a missing piece in my life had fallen into its perfect place, present yet again. I was so grateful for my husband´s lack of jealousy. He had no reason to feel threatened either. But many men would not have been able to accept Richard like that, a man who meant such a lot to me and who used to be my lover.

We went back home to Fanø. Richard texted me a few times, I texted back. He called me on the first of August. I reassured him our deal was still on, we would stay in touch and be in each other´s lives more actively from now on.

Then there was silence. I texted him a couple of times. No reply. Strange. Unlike him. I wrote him that I was trying to contact him, could he please reply. Nothing.

Until about the 10. of August. I received an email on facebook. From Finland! I knew no one in Finland. It said Hello, I am the cousin of Richard´s. He has told me about you and therefore I now contact you because I sadly have to tell you our Richard has died.

Police had found his body in the harbour. They think he must have fell in and drowned, the Saturday night 3. of August. Where he had been out downtown Bergen, dancing. More than that, we will never know. Was he pushed? Or did he just fall? No use in thinking about it.

Me and my eldest daughter went to Bergen to Richard´s funeral. Met his cousin, and Richard´s friends. They all embraced us whole heartedly, telling me and my daughter they would be there for us like Richard had wanted to be there for us, he had told them all about us and they knew he loved us dearly. My child, as far as they were concerned, now had an uncle in Finland and an aunt in Bergen. It was a beautiful funeral. His cousin read three of my poems up in the church. Around his grave as they lowered his white coffin, stood people from all over the world. His friends. Richard´s cousin said anyone who wanted to, was welcome to speak. And so many of them did. One sang a funeral song from… I don´t remember which country. Very moving. Others spoke of how they had met Richard and how special he was to them, always optimistic and supportive, never judging people, so full of laughter and advice. Me myself I didn´t speak. I just didn´t know what to say. Richard´s recent ex girfriend was there too, with her mother. I didn´t want to disturb them with talk about my relating to him. I also had my 7-yearold daughter in my arms. It was….. I just felt silent within.

After the burial we all went to a café downtown, where Richard always used to go, he was friends with the owner. My girlfriend who had been looking after my baby boy while we were at the funeral, came with us. So we spent the day there together with our new aunt and her lovely, grown daughter, with Richard´s many friends, his cousin, his ex girlfriend and everybody else. At one point me and my daughter were taken to Richard´s friend Sam´s place, where all Richard´s belongings had been stored. We were allowed to choose a few of his things to take home with us. I took a pair of checkered trousers, a belt, a t-shirt and a hat I remember he wore the day we met. My daughter chose some of his shirts, a table cloth, some other small things. We put it all in one of his rucksacks. The rest was to be sent to his kids in Uganda. The day before the funeral, at aunty´s place, my daughter had also received Richard´s guitar and his blue welding glasses. They knew she was dear to him. I was touched to learn he had spoken of us so highly and so often.

In the time passing after the funeral, we have stayed in touch with uncle in Finland. And when him and aunty from Bergen went to visit Richard´s kids in Uganda, they sent lots of photos. Then Richard´s kids, both teenagers, connected with me through facebook. We now talk from time to time, about school exams and what not.

So easy.

To get involved. “I stretch as far as my arm reaches, ” Richard always used to say. His second name was Asiimwe. It means Grace. It is a name that describes him well.

So easy.

I now have friend-family in Bergen, Finland and Uganda. Loving, beautiful people. My Richard´s closest people. His circle, us.

So easy.

To love and be loved. When we just open up and accept what is.

I miss you, my Richard Asiimwe. You were so special, such a rare person, so generous, so wise, so inspiring. I love you. Thank you for being an important part of my life.

So easy to suddenly lose one´s life. And so easy still, to shed tears in sorrow over losing you. I hold on to the way you so easily always could see the positive in everything.

Until we meet again, mr. Grace.

<3

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Let It Come

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Allow me to start out today with the opening poem of my self published book from 2011                                                                                          (Heart Matters; Around Abouts and Previous Pieces):

 

Let It Come

Patrience – precious mode of being

Watching, waiting, feeling, seeing

Landscapes from an eagle´s view

The Flow will guide the Adventure of You

 

Yesterday I opened my blog, new post page…. and just sat staring at it. Completely empty inside. No word to be heard. Quite frightening! 🙂 So this morning I said to “My Self”; “Please help me know what to write about today, as I really would like to keep posting on a regular basis, a bit frequently, so new stuff pops up not too often but also not too many days apart…”

Immediately “Let it Come”  came to my mind. So here I am now.

I don´t have a clue what I will write after this sentence here now.

And this unknowing, having no idea what words will come the following moment, is the greatest both challenge of writing. And excitement as well. Just sitting, looking out the window. Listening to the birds. And suddenly something comes through. Love it.

It´s a bit like being alive in general. At least my life. Some people I guess plan their lives. I never did that. I just took one step at the time, letting my heart choose the direction. Studied one subject at the time at university (that´s how the system was back then). First I studied politics, found it dry and moved on to anthropology. Loved that, so I stayed for an extra semester. Then did media science, and their third semester was taught by famous Manchester anthropologist Graham Murdock, it was a course on Consumer Culture, so I did that semester too, though it was developing my degree width-wise, not the normal depth-wise… After that I took a semester of organizational psychology, because I always loved psychology and I could live off my student loan if I kept on studying.

Same with my love life. Met a Brit age 21, and moved to Wales a year later. Travelled around the world with him (quality control in the oil biz), and went back to uni from time to time to pass an exam. 6 years later we broke up, and I moved back to Bergen. Met a Dutch guy a year and a half later, moved in with him, moved back out 3 years later… Two exhausting breakups which I don´t want to dwell on more than to say I learnt a lot about what I want and don´t want in a relationship.

In 2005 I went to a kiromantic (hand reader) and asked him whether I was supposed to take my master degree in anthropology. He said: “What does your heart say? Does it become happy when you think about studying?” I said “No…. I don´t know… that´s why I ask you…” “Well, when your heart says I don´t know, that means you are in doubt, and doubt means simply “not now”. Maybe you will study later, but not now.”

I stared at him. I could actually feel that his answer was the right one for me. “You know,” he continued, “the heart speaks in only yes or no. Your intuition. It tells you whether to take a step forward or not to. So whenever you are in doubt, just ask your heart. Do I want this? Then notice your feeling. If it´s not a YES! feeling, then wait and see, then maybe later, but not now.”

That is a very useful thing he told me there. And now you know it too.

Why I talk about him now, is because he also taught me something essential about letting it come. He told me that one of my main challenges to grow through this lifetime, is to trust in Spirit. To rest assured that I am taken care of. When there is no work, and I don´t know what to do next… “It´s like your helpers are sitting on a fence, smiling at you, saying “you just do what you are supposed to do and we will take care of the rest!” He said…. “Your hand shows what we call bird feathers, a sign of being able to write. I think you should allow your love for writing to be your main focus. That and mothering. Move out of the video production community that you say is filled with drama between the participating people. Make a peaceful space for your mothering and your writing. You will be headhunted for projects, teachers will come to you when you need them to, things will happen in strange ways…”

Again I just stared at him. His words went straight to the core of my being. Things always seemed to happen to me the way he described. I once wished I had a job in a certain film documentary company, and a while after I expressed that wish to myself, I was hired as a director´s assistant in a cinema movie project, about refugees living in Norway, I worked there for 18 months! And that was just one recent example of many things synchronizing for me.

He read my palms, and taped the session on an old fashion cassette, that I could bring home. I listened to that tape probably about 100 times. It gave me a lot of strength. I was amazed at what he could tell me about myself from looking at my hands. His name was Kundan. Norwegian man. In case someone wants to try him.

Let it come… yes… It is not that easy, you know. Not to know where I will go, what to do, allowing stuff through, waiting for the next step. Then again, I´m getting better and better at it. I´m in such a period right now, where I have no income, and no sight of a regular job to apply for. Because I know in my heart I want my small kids to be in kindergarten only half time. 9-1pm. And this of course strongly limits my options, as if I get work on shore, the ferryride plus the waiting for the ferry and driving to the work place, will add an hour´s transport to each end of my working hours. Hence I will have to place them in all day kindergarten. And my heart just says no to that. My youngest is not even 3 yet. I know many people do it, and get used to it. But I´m just not … built that way? I have to go with my conviction.

When possible. Heaven knows I have worked in a fish factory one winter, in order to save up money so I could finally go to India! (Which didn´t happen after all, coz I suddenly met the Dutch guy, and then got the movie job almost simultaneously, and decided to stay in Bergen instead). Point is, I will make sacrifices when necessary. I´m not a spoilt princess afraid of work.

For now, I will keep them in kindergarten half time. I work on this blog, and if Luck strikes me, someone will contact me and want to pay me for advertizing on my site.

Secondly, I keep doing my training as a sound healer. I will make journals of 30 treatments before my exam in December. So this will lead to income in a while. My teacher is hitting Danish television as we speak, she’s been asked to appear on breakfast tv tomorrow, Saturday morning, and also to be a sound healing expert in an upcoming programme called “The Madsen brothers present the future”, where they will look at weird and wonderful new technologies and ways of life…. (They are shooting first episode today, I wish I could be in the audience but Copenhagen is 4 hours away from where I live…) So basically I expect sound healing to be quite popular and sought after pretty soon. I will just practice and get myself ready.

These are simply my two strategies. They don´t generate instant income. But I will let it come. I do trust that everything is as it is supposed to be, and when I tell the universe I am grateful for everything being taken care of, this has proved to work for me time and time again. It sounds peculiar, but. I ask and I receive. Mystical, magical and most mmmlovely it is.   🙂

Right. 1436 words. Pretty good for not knowing what the next word would be, when I started. Again, trust. Step aside and let it come. Allow it through. The only hurdle on your path is you. That is so funny and so annoying. But I guess it´s true.    🙂

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RollerCoasterRide

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It´s Friday today. 3.of Oct. I clearly remember last Sunday. I woke up so happy. My husband and I had been to a silver wedding the night before. He is the conductor of a 17 (wo)man strong bigband, and they were invited as musicians and friends to the silverwedding of the trumpet player in the band. I have been on travels with the band and their partners. Florida 2008. Spain last easter. So it was such a joy to see them all again. We the band were placed on a long table of our own. We were the mischievous guests clinking the plates so the groom and wife had to kiss on a chair, followed by stamping our feet so they had to kiss underneath the table… soon the party was filled with laughter and cries of “CHEERS!” The groom held a most precious speech to his wife. And gave her a new stone for her gold ring, replacing the littler one he could afford as a UN soldier 25 years ago. Not a diamond but a “brilliant” (in Danish, it rhymes with diamant. I never even heard of a brilliant before. But I probably want one now!)

The wife had made a slideshow of stills from their life together. She´s American, her father had come all the way to be present. They have 4 kids, age 15,17,19 and 21. They have spent a handful years in the US. Their kids are very handsome, tall and healthy, three boys and a girl. Totally well behaved and successful in both sports, school and arts. The daughter sang a song beautifully, on the melody of Cohen´s Hallelujah, she had made her own lyrics, all about the love between her parents. Gobsmackingly beautiful performance. And the four kids stood up and held a speech together, in turn telling their mom and dad how they were grateul to them and so proud of their family.

It was a night filled with expressed love, so much of it, so openly flowing naturally around the big room with the many guests.
After food, we danced. Not Big Bot Band is a tremendous party band. My husbands is such an enthused conductor, I always fall madly in love with him when I see him work. My band-wife friends are so funny, I was laughing with them like I had not laughed in a long time.
We came home around 03, completely and utterly exhausted. In the happiest of ways. All shook up and blissed out.

Next morning was the first morning we woke up in an empty house. No kids woke us up, demanding hot cocoa on the sofa by the telly. Sweet luxury. All three of them were sleeping over at a friend-family of ours. First time our youngest one ever slept away from home without one of his parents. It was a great success. New times ahead.

We got up and had a slow brunch. Decided to go pick up the kids around 12, and stayed for lunch at our friends´ place before we biked back home. We looked forward to visiting grandma in hospital, where she had been admitted the day before because she was feeling nauseous. Since she had been operated for breast cancer five days previously, we thought it was best to get her checked out, and the hospital had agreed.

We bought the bananas she had asked us to bring, and brought some books. She´s an author, and loves to read.
Hospital days can be so long.
When we arrived to her room where we had seen her the day before, she wasn´t there. We found a nurse. Who told us she had been moved because she was feeling bad. After some waiting around, we came to her new room. She was in pain. But happy to see us, holding the children´s hands, smiling to them, saying their names. The doctor said they were going to change her treatment to an other type of antibiotics. And said there was no great danger for her.

The next morning, my husband went to see her on his way to work. She was asleep, he could not reach her. Some hours later his adult daughter went to visit grandma, and found out they had moved her to intensive care as she had suddenly became a lot worse. I found myself calling my husband´s workplace to make them find him and tell him to get to the hospital. Then followed hours of hooking up with family members, spreading information. All whilst trying to keep calm for my little children´s sake.

Late afternoon they scanned her, to see where the pockets of inflamation in her body were. They found that bacteria had destroyed such a big part of her flesh, that it could not be removed without killing her. They told my husband and daughter she could not be saved. I was home, alone with the kids, phone in hand. Shock.

Eleven at night I left them with a babysitter, and went to the intensive care unit. My husband and his two grown kids were there. And my motherinlaw. All those machines. Cables. Tube down her throat helping her breathe. My heart broke.

Five in the morning I sailed back home, and woke my kids one by one, telling them we were going to the hospital immidiately because grandma was very ill and was going to die.
We found clothes, had a cup of cocoa and went out into the dark morning to the ferry. Linus-Ferdinand in the trolly, Viola standing on the back of it and Lava age soon to be ten walking next to me.

We arrived about seven. The two small ones looked at grandma, and then started to play with some lego. There were two rooms, like a little sitting room attached to the bigger room where grandma was lying. An extra nurse took care of the children, finding toys, paper and crayons…

My husband, our three bigger kids and myself were so sad. She was so close to us. So special. Positive and supportive, with a very rare level of inner peace and love for children. We were very strongly connected.
Friday we had celebrated Maria´s birthday together, singing as usual, eating. Though grandma didn´t eat much as she was so nausous. We thought she might be coming down with flu. Next morning we called the hospital that operated on her. They told us not to worry, the symptoms had nothing to do with her operation. We still went to the local hospital, and they agreed to admit her, gave her liquids and penicilin.
Now it was Tuesday early morning. It was 3 days after the birthday dinner. It was our deeply beloved grandmother´s dying day.

She was kept alive by the machines, supporting her breathing and her blood pressure. The doctors told us that when we were ready they would switch off the machines and her body would die. Maybe quickly, or maybe hours. She would be given painkillers, so she would not struggle for breath. It would not be traumatic to be present. I decided to stay with the children all the way through.

We stood around her, the five of us, whilst the two littlest ones were playing happily in the background. Actually a sound of great comfort. They came by from time to time, looked at us crying, and at grandma, then went into play and laughter again. The five of us stood around her and talked to her all about how much we loved her. How sad we were to see her go like this. And that soon she would be reunited with granddad, and may her journey be jouful……… we sang some of the songs we always used to sing together with her.
We asked the nurse if she could find a guitar. No one had ever requested that before, when she called around the hospital, people asked “A guitar?! For the intensive careunit?!” We all thought it was rather funny. In the end they did find one in the kids´ department. It was brought to us, and we played some more songs.
A tear appeared in the corner of grandma Ellen´s eye. Her son immidiately saw it, and gently wiped it away comforting her. He was so extremely caring towards her. So soft and reassuring and comforting, between breaking down in tears. Those hours were so extremely intense. So sad. And so precious and beautiful.
Anyone who has been present on a deathbed must know what I mean by this.

Two more relatives joined us later in the morning. A young couple, her grandson and his wife. Their two little kids were not with them.
We were happy to see them, and delayed switching the machines off a little longer, so they could have time with her in peace.

Around ten we told the doctor we were ready to start the disconnecting. They switched off some buttons, and gave her an injection of painkillers. So there we were. Watching the screens. One with her breaths drawn, one by one, depth and length. Waves. And one with the red number showing her blood pressure. She just breathed and breathed and breathed. Whilst we were holding our breaths. Minutes passed, half hours. We went to and fro, realizing our stomachs were empty and our bladders full. Interacting with the children. I pushed my son in the pram back and forth in the long hospital corridor until he fell asleep for a much needed nap. It was like waiting for birth to happen. And in my view, death is exactly that. Another birth.

Once he was asleep I went back to her room and joined the circle. No news. Fifteen minutes later, everyone decided to go for a quick bite to eat in the cafe downstairs. I wanted to stay with grandma, but someone had to go with the kids, and my husband was going to stay. So.
We went downstairs and ate. Leaving Helge and Ellen to themselves.
He played guitar and sang to her. Just like he had done so very many times throughout their lifetime together.
When we returned fifteen minutes later, her bloodpressure had dropped from 171 to 60!!!
We sat down quickly, all taken aback. Her red number went down very fast. 35,34,33,32,30…
Instinctly I moved up close to her face and I saw her eyes make a spark! A jolt of joy jumped through my chest, and I said “There! You arrived! You´re there now…! That´s so great…”
I was very moved, but very happy.
Strange contrast to the many hours passed crying and sobbing.
Then after many seconds, she drew breath again. And after what seemed like ages, one more last time.
But I actually don´t believe she was still in her body. I don´t know if a heart and lungs can make an extra couple of beats after departure of the spirit/conscious soul. I don´t know.
But I feel pretty sure now that they can.
That spark and that jolt of joy. That was not of my creation.

So she left. Left us behind to grieve and sorely miss her love and graceful sharing. No more puzzles to be laid, books to be read, movies to be watched together with her and my children. No more glasses of wine, and late night talks with her and my Helge in our sofa. No more visiting her in her home in the woods.

It is Friday today. Third whole day without her. We are in limbo. Days and nights join in a circle of waking up, crying, writing, talking, making phonecalls, choosing coffin and urne, making a newspaper add, sorting through her purse looking for id cards, searching through her phone for numbers, sending information about her life to the priest, talking to the organist.

Her pillow and duvet have been moved from the guest room to the sofa, the kids and I seek comfort there… my daughter wears her scarf. I tried her coat on yesterday. It fits me almost, just a littlebit too big. I hope I can keep it. It´s the one she always wore, purple, her favourite colour. As is mine.

Tomorrow is her funeral. A lot of people are expected to turn up in the church. She was such an uplifting spirit, with many friends and relatives who used to go visit her and invite her over. A very social woman, loved parties, wrote hundreds of birthday songs for people, and at age 88 she looked 70, and was still driving her car to and fro her house in the woods where she lived all alone, enjoying her solitude. She enjoyed her own company. She published eleven books after she finished her working life. Mostly novels for youth, draped in local history. Some of them have been translated into German.

Tomorrow is her funeral. That just sounds crazy. She is my closest family member here in Denmark, apart from my husband and kids. She is the one who shares the joy of watching the little ones grow. She is our babysitter and our daytrip destination. She.

Tomorrow is her funeral. She has left us lists of wishes for her funeral. It says in her handwriting that “Helge will play something beautiful in the church”. She has chosen 4 psalms. She has decided the text for the tombstomne.
“I hjertet gemt aldrig glæmt”.
“In the heart kept never forgotten”.
She has written a list of who will have which pieces of her jewelry.
My name is there. In her handwriting.
A bracelet made of copper and amber.
And a necklace with the symbol of faith, hope and love.
I feel so honoured. So seen by her.
She has given me so much self confidence these seven years we got to share. We have shared so many special talks.
About the love of writing, especially.

One of the last things she said to me, last thursday when she had just started to feel nausous and we spent the day watching a film on the sofa with the kids… she said she heard I have started blogging. She really wanted to see it. I said yes ofcourse, great! I will show you as soon as you get better. And I need your help to read through a letter I will send to the local paper, help me check it for spelling mistakes, make it proper Danish, will you? Of course I will, be glad to, she said, smiling at me, that warm, all present smile of hers.

We had so much planned. Helge´s musical is being staged 30.of October, with a quoir of more than a hundred school children singing his songs. She was going to come with us and see it.

She was.

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