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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?
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?

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…

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… 🙂 …


Introducing: Githa Ben-David


Here is my teacher, Githa Ben-David.
This is an episode from a documentary series about spirituality, made by Christian Leth, a Danish musician and journalist.
I am attending her two year long course in vocal sound therapy.
It´s my second year this year.
To read more about it, see the post “My SoundHealer Inauguration”
and the post I will write after sharing this wonderful and inspiring documentary.
I will call that new post “Vocal Sound Therapy”.

(She has also written a trilogy about the healing effects of sound. It is being translated into English these days. Great books. Also, check her out on YouTube)!


8/3; International Women´s Day


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! 🙂


About to get to know


I wish I had a relevant image to illustrate this text with. But I don´t have it right here right now, and now here is the time I want to write this post. So. Off we go. Maybe I can add an image later, if the right one comes along.

I have decided to share with you the poem I think is the best one I have written to date. At least the English one. I do write in Norwegian as well, and a bit in Danish. But this one is my favourite from my book.
Quality is difficult to define. And agree upon. I just really adore this one, for some unexplainable reason.

I think I will actually continue writing underneath the poem. I want to write about my poetry writing. But not analyze the poem. Coz that´s a bit of a crime to me, I always hated dissecting poems in school, it provokes me, as I feel the gift of a poem is, that its meaning is up to the reader to create…?
And poetry to me is about what lies between the lines, what is said without being said… what I as a reader can sense, and not necessarily put into words… touching on the undescribable, words hinting at the unphrasable.

I wrote this piece one warm Summer day in 2007, lying on my stomach in my garden, looking at flowers. I counted 8 yellow and pink roses in bloom. And I just scribbled on from there. Here you are:

About to get to know

Eight flowers blooming
into epiphany
Mind´s narrow eye zooming
into paralyzing stupidity
From frog to eagle soaring
High on Sky
Finding tiny detail boring
See the Real Divide

Eight butterflies fluttering
into play position
Third eye widened shuttering
into wise decision
From overpowered to empowered
Water Still
Know the Truth of Inner Silence
Hear the Voice of Will


Decision making in the making…
I was trying to find out whether to move to Denmark or not, whether to trust in my feelings for my new boyfriend, and trust in his feelings for me… enough to move countries, with my little daughter and all…!

I gave myself six months. Told myself not to panick for not knowing clearly what to do. Told myself to relax and just enjoy and explore, and that in six months´ time I would have enough experience to decide whether to stay or whether to go back to Norway again and continue my nice life there…

And sure enough. Six months later I had a clear impression, and was able to reach the decision of moving to Denmark. Away from family and my close and wonderful friends. To be with him. Start again, network wise. And be with him. I had told him that I would only live together with a man if it was absolutely inevitable! I was very happy living on my own before I met him. So peaceful and free. Beautiful darling autonomy!
But. Only love is love.
I decided to move to Denmark and be with him. And it´s been 8 years now since we met. And it feels like we´ve only just begun this relationship.

I have always written poems. And at the same time, I don´t like old classical famous poetry that much. I mean, I hate it when it´s impossible to understand what it means!
I don´t have the patience for sitting wondering and pondering what on earth the writer wanted to say by those cryptic crinclycurly roundabout weird old words, set up in an unnatural way, forming stiff and sticky sentences.

I love song lyrics, though. Like Leonard Cohen`s. To me that´s great poetry. The number one poet and composer of our time, actually. Is my opinion. I have most of his records. I´m your man got me hooked back then. My favourite song of his is “going home” from his last but one album, Old Ideas… But there are so many, so many. Dance me to the end of love. Hallelujah. Like a bird on a wire. Famous blue raincoat. A thousand kisses deep. Dear Heather…

And Little Steven! His lyrics are political, crystal clear, and they make me feel passionate about the issues he talks about. He woke me up when I was 12 years old, he made me realize a lot about justice and solidarity, Sun City, Checkpoint Charlie…I am a patriot…I know them all by heart. Got all his albums on vinyl, from the 80s. Got some of the newer ones on cd too. And rebought them again on iTunes.

Syd Barrett! From the original Pink Floyd. His lyrics on their debut album from 1967… The gnome, the scarecrow, the bike… what a Genious.
Roger Waters´album “Amused to death”… sends shivers down my spine, still. It must be one of the albums I have listened to more than any other in my life. “Watching tv”. “What God wants”. “Perfect sense”. Brilliant poetry.

Coz what is the difference between poetry and lyrics?
I actually don´t know. I was never schooled in litterature science.

To me, the quality of a text has two aspects:
One, the depth of content.
And two, its ability to reach the heart of the reader. To create an atmosphere within the reader. That it communicates. Gives the reader something that the reader values. Reflection. Resonnance.
Of course it´s great when it´s sculpted well. Rhythm, rhyme, references… it is a craft. A skill, an art form. To be mastered. But if the content and the touching the reader is sacrificed in order to look clever… then to me it´s just…about the writer´s ego, showing off. And that´s not what writing poems/lyrics should be about.

I worked in the film industry for some years. There was this annual short film festival. And every year the price would go to the film that showed clever film making techniques. It would not go to the important documentary or the very well told, surprising story.
Always to some silly joke plot plastic fantastic film, made in a clever way by clever form-focused young men. Who in my opinion were wasting their own time and the viewers´. To be making films in order to show the world one´s cleverness just isn´t very clever when there is no value to the content.
When the message is a joke, or a spin on a story often heard before.
The messenger just isn´t the message. I´m sorry, it just isn´t.

Here is a powerful anti war message.

I guess I need to go to bed now.
Midnight. Full moon.
& I drank coffee at a seminar this evening.
Got a lot to do tomorrow.
& in the evening one of my very best friends
is coming all the way from Norway to visit for a handful days.
So I will say good night now.
Hope you enjoyed my little poem.
And that Roger Waters song is just… heartbreaking. Isn´t it.
Deep, meaningful content, and very well communicated.
To me he is indeed a great poet.

Good night now.
Take care out there.
Think twice & be nice.



Aim & Shine


Heart Matters book cover

I want to share with you two poems from my self published book.
(If you want to buy the book, which so far only exists in old school paper form, then go to the page “Buy my book?” and find out there how to get hold of a copy.

Here are the two poems:


Open up your magnet soul,
show your endless beauty.
Find, define and claim your goal,
to be happy is your duty.



Be brave
don´t be no slave
to any fear or doubt.
You´re happier without,
just turn within!
No such thing
as guilt or sin.
Pure lightlove is what you are.
Magical grain of dust from star.


In Trust I Trust



I trust. I do. In the universality of humanness. In the good intentions of strangers in general.
Not that evil does not exist.
Hurt people hurt people. Violence begets violence.
But trust begets trust as well. Peace begets peace. Ask Gandhi.

We send out and we receive. We share, and there is ecco. Reply.
We create reactions with our actions. Karma, some call it.
Others call it the law of attraction. Many names. I´m sure there are ways to describe it in (meta-) physics by now. Hard science and spirituality are beginning to opverlap. Police forces use mediums to find murder victims, don´t they. Telepathy, I read, has now been proven to exist. Not recently, a while ago.

I have always met people on my path with an open heart. Some I have felt intuitively were not…comfortable in their energy, and so I have moved swiftly on. But those are few and far between. I have always met people with an open heart, with curiousity, respect and a smile. I have taken strangers to my home and let them sleep on my couch. Many times. Men as well. Never have they ended up stealing from me or trying to rape me. I never felt threatened in any way, my trust was never disrespected, abused.

Don´t be naiv, they say, the people who call themselves realists. They may also be labelled fearful, sceptical, cynical, belittling.
As if giving someone your trust was a stupid thing. It is not. It is a sign of strength, actually. To be able to give people you don´t know, a chance. To keep an open mind and say that everybody is innocent until proven guilty. What is stupid and wrong, is to abuse someone´s trust.

The ability to trust is extremely valuable. It builds relationships. Whilst breaking someone´s trust in you, destroys or deeply damages a relationship. Trusting is saying “I believe in your integrity, that you are a (wo)man of your words, that you are real, and you will give me your respect and honesty.”

I have told my daughters that there are people out there who actually kidnap children and hurt them. Told them they must never go anywhere with a person they don´t know. That if a grownup grabs them or tries to pull them into a car, they are to scream as loud as they can “I don´t know this person! Help!!” I have told them that one´s genitals is one´s private area that no one else gets to play with until one has a boyfriend/girlfriend. And that a child is not allowed to have a girlfriend or boyfriend who is an adult, and that every adult knows that it is illegal and they will go to jail for it.
Of course they need to know this. Even though we thank goodness live in a very peaceful place. Things happen. They need to know. And later, I hope they will learn martial arts, so they can protect themselves if ever attacked. They are girls. Girls are looked upon as prey by some men in some places. It is sick and it is sickening.

Myself I have for example been under the influence, half senseless, alone at night in Amsterdam several times, I have walked around the souq in Bahrain in trousers and a t-shirt and my blonde long hair not tied up, I have like I said housed male strangers. I have been in Bronx and in Brixton, at night with just one fellow student boy as company… And I have never felt in danger. Oh apart from that time on the ferry to Newcastle when that guy was jealous because his girlfriend was keen on me! Hahaha… that was actually scary. His anger, outside on the deck there in the middle of the night…But those were not people I trusted, though. They just came after me.

What am I trying to say with all this?

When we walk into the world with an open mind and heart.
Then we are met with the same!
Is my experience.
I have always sat down and had a chat with homeless people and drug addicts on bus stations when I´ve been travelling. And asked directions from prostitutes or beggars. In the souq I always got lost, and simply asked Arab men to help me find my way, and they were always polite and helpful, never pestering me.

I think that when you trust a person, you pull out of that person his or her trust worthiness. Actually. They sense you mean well and you are not afraid of them but curious and friendly. And so they become curious too. And wellmeaning and friendly.
Come on, we are animals after all. We snif and we wag tails and signal harmlessness when we can, because that´s the way to stay safe.
It´s like magnets, I imagine. Recognizing similarity and responding positively, moving towards the other. Seeing others mean well, makes us feel good. Even happy.

Let me tell you a true story.
I was at a course called “the seven rays”. In Wales, in my twenties. I don´t remember much of it, but I remember finding it interesting. There was a Dutch young woman there. And she told us that one afternoon she came to a parkinglot to pick up her car, and all of a sudden there was a man walking up very close to her. She instinctly felt that this was the man who was wanted by the police for murdering several women in the city lately.
She froze, and she said she knew that if she showed him she was afraid, he would kill her. That was what he was after. Her fear.
She asked him calmly if he would like to come over to her flat. !!
Because she knew that in a couple of hours her room mate would come home from work. She felt this was her only chance to escape him.
He said yes, he would like to come with her to her appartment.
So they got in her car, and she took him to her home, sat him down in the kitchen, served him tea and kept a conversation going. A couple of hours later, her room mate came home, and he said good bye and left. She called the police and told them about her experience.
Less than a week later, she was called in by the police to be a witness. There had been a murder. She pointed out the man she had taken home from the parking lot.
She told us that she was 100 % convinced that showing him the sign of fearless trust, was what saved her life that day.

Rape and murder is not actually about sex. It is about power. Feasting on the victim´s fear.
Maybe I´m wrong. I´m not a psychologist. But it is my strong impression.

It´s an amazing story. And it´s straight from the horse´s mouth. She had experienced it herself, she did not tell a story about a friend.
How do I know it´s true? I could feel it. Can´t you?
Yes some people are…passionate liars, they get a kick out of lying. But they are very rare. And when I look into a person´s eyes, I sense whether something is true or not. I think everybody can, at least to a degree. Intuition, our 6.sense. “I have a gut feeling…”

I trust in trust. I give people the benefit of the doubt. When I discover deception, I just move on. I don´t have time for fakers. Illusionmakers. Losing an illusion is hurtful sometimes, but I´m still grateful for not remaining stuck in untruth. I´d rather be illusion-less, even though living in illusions can be very pleasant.

Yes I do trust.
One could say it has hurt me in the way that there have been promises made to me that have been broken, and it has hurt me.
And my trust has been abused by a lover or two, where I only late did find out I was being manipulated with, for example feeling guilty for my openhearted behaviour whilst the problem actually was my partner´s unreasonable jealousy and not risk of infidelity or rape.

But there you go, such is life, and I don´t believe in mistakes, I believe we create what we need.
I am who I am because of what I have gone through. There have been struggles and disappointments and letdowns. For sure.
But if I had sacrificed my ability to trust, in that learning proces, then that would have been the real loss. That would have profoundly made my life a poorer place to be. I never gave that power to anyone. If a person let me down, then that luggage is hers or his to carry, it is not mine. I leave their garbage by the side of the path and I walk on, resting assured that I am free from a burdening person, one lesson wiser and if there comes a next time I will spot the deception a lot earlier.

I don´t want a filter between me and my life. Why would I want such a thing? Prejudice… for what? Ranking everyone I meet as this good or that bad or probably not good enough…. good enough for what? For my smile? If I smile and the person doesn´t smile back, that´s fine. It doesn´t mean there´s anything wrong with smiling. If he or she wants to think I´m stupid, then that´s their business, not mine.
But if I choose not to smile at a person…. that sends a signal of being closed. And that attracts the same closedness from that person.
Then we will have both lost an opportunity for a positive exchange of energy.

What is there to gain? What is there to lose?
In a world were people smile to eachother on the street, it produces a sense of safety. And it actually makes me feel very happy inside when it happens. Here on Fanoe it happens a lot. We all greet eachother, although we only know we have seen each other´s face somewhere before. Ok, it´s a small island, but there´s still 3000 of us locals.

I know. In a city there are so many people that our instincts can´t deal with taking individuals in and greeting them. Fine.
Maybe that is why so many people feel so lonely in cities. ?

So when showing trust, you can potentially gain feeling safe and happy. You can also gain feeling stupid for trusting someone who was not worthy. But that feeling is your choice. There is no reason to feel stupid for trusting. It is a sign of strength, of daring to risk. Breaking someone´s trust, on the other hand, when we do that, that´s when we should feel stupid.

What is there to lose?
You just might lose a bit of fear. When you realize that most people around you are really nice, and a lot like yourself. They have interesting life stories, they feel pain and joy basically because of the same things as yourself.

Don´t allow disappointments to make you lose faith in trusting.
Be open. See what happens. If we all dared to trust each other…
wouldn´t it be nice?

(No I will not play that Beachboys-song now)!

I mean, not trust strangers with your life, unless you have to. But to trust that strangers are harmless. 99,9 % of them are. And the ones who hurt you are not the strangers you exchange friendliness with on a corner, in a shop or in a bar, it is the people you pull close to you and believe when they say they love you with all their hearts. Lovers. Family members. Who do not look after the genuine, precious gift your trust given to them, truely is.

I´m gonna keep on trusting in trusting.
It´s brought good results so far.
I enjoy feeling relaxed and happy.
Suspicion is a waste of energy, I reckon.
People are as good as they can be, and when they fail, forgive them.

Life is short.
The only thing we know for sure about it, is that it ends.
At least our bodies do. End.
So when we will die anyways, why miss out on possible fun to be had, getting to know cool people unknown to you?

I remember that slogan from the 80s:
“A stranger is a friend you don´t know.”

Be friendly first. Be open. Trust in the Good!


My Listening Hut


This is a short video from my Listening Hut. Which was built by a Swedish architect friend of ours, as a birthday present for me from my husband 3 years ago. It sits behind the apple tree in the back of our garden. 2 by 2 metres big. I go there for undisturbed thinking (at least undisturbed by external factors, haha), I go there to listen to silence, to write, meditate, listen to music, or just sit still and watch the blackbirds in the apple tree…

It is a sanctuary where my mothering can take a break. Where I can be just me, not a friend, wife, mother, neighbour, daughter or sister. Just me. Tuning into me. Spending time with me.

It may sound egotrippish. But I don’t see it that way.
If I don’t get time alone, I’m just not a nice person to be around. I need to connect with myself, centre my energy, in order to have energy to share with others.

It is such a joy to close that door behind me and sit down in the tiny sofa and just…. be.
Continue writing the story that is unfolding in one of my notebooks. Or make a poem in my journal. Sing along with Tibetan chanting monks. Or eat chocolate and write out sad or angry emotions, then put on some loud music from a mixtape made decades ago, and just feel the low energy be released, making room for fresh, more optimistic energy…

It is the best present anyone ever gave me.
My Listening Hut.
My precious treasure.
My place of peace.


My Splendid Birthday



I’m in my ListeningHut behind my garden’s appletree, Ben Harper keeping me company soundwise, in my worn light blue baggy jeans I have one birthday present in each pocket; one is a pendant for a necklace, rounded square shape, made of glass in Florida by a good friend. In the other pocket lie a pair of ear rings, with torquoise stones on them. Given me by another good girlfriend of mine, they are made in India and bought in Mexico.

It was my birthday yesterday, and as usual I was woken up by my husband, his guitar and our kids, plus a friend who was staying over, they were singing a Danish happy birthday song. I had chosen not to receive my presents then, because it was such a busy morning in my schedule. On Saturday, I will get the presents from the children and we will watch a movie or do something else enjoyable and relaxing together…

So I jumped out of bed (kind of, almost, in a way), and after a quick breakfast my girlfriend and I were on our way to the kindergarten where she right now for three weeks is hosting a music workshop for the kids. She brought her fagot and her Tibetan singing bowls. Very inspiring to watch her communicate with the little ones, drawing them all into the magical world of music…

After two groups of 12 children had been workshopped, we went home for lunch. Then picked up my kids, went shopping, then back home where I prepared a tuna salad in garlic yoghurt dressing for the evening’s party meal. A couple of hours later we drove to the local school and set up for her lecture, which she is also hosting these 3 winter Wednesdays. We were ten people, and the subject was “Ritualistic Music”. Wow. It could not have been a more interesting subject for me. And the talk was even more exciting and fascinating than I imagined. The audience was encouraged to participate, sharing their views, and the athmosphere was very… light hearted… warm and friendly… Although she is a top trained classical musician, the lecturer is blessedly free from facit answers, there is no wrong answer to things only personal equal viewpoints, and that attitide is so uplifting, no need to fear being told your view is incorrect… We had a splendid time. Truely exsclusive high quality lecture. I hope more institutions on the island will hire her, coz I want to hear more of what she has to share!

Some of the people in the audience were friends of mine, and one brought me a cake and presents!! Wicked… a cd with an artist I never heard of. Love to explore new music! Of course the cake was very popular, and I got a lot of hugs and a birthday song on the fagot… pretty decent. Way kool. 🙂

After the lecture, two of my best mates tagged along to my home, where we ate the tunasalad pitta together with my Man and the kids. After eating, I took my mates (one woman same age as myself and a young man I call my soul brother), I took them out into the ListeningHut, and we sat in here sharing bottles of wine, listening to my old minidisc mix”tapes”; Taj Mahal and the Hula Blues, Nina Simone, vintage reggae…
We ended up at my girlfriend’s in the end, as she had to replace her babysitter. One in the morning me and my young soul brother walked home through the mainstreet, not a single other person in sight there between the straw thatched little houses edging the cobble stoned street…

So that was my birthday celebration. Oh and I also had prsents in the mailbox. A book by Neal Donald Walsh from Katarina, and from my childhood’s best mate Linda I received home made towels and a hat, plus a dvd of a tv series with Ricky Gervais, whome I adore more than most others funny and wise people on this planet. Perfect presents for me.
And from my darling husband I got a massage table. For my sound healing sessions. He is my superduperstar.

I’m in my hut now, updating my blog whilst eating chocolates.
Yesterday was just such a kick. I LOVE lectures. And I LOVE music. And I LOVE spirituality. And friendship. So to have a friend give a lecture on ritualistic music… It’s like… It’s unlike anything I can describe, I’m sitting here realizing. It’s one of those things where I just shake my head in disbelief, with a huge grin on my face. PURRRRRR…. fect, I would say, if I was a cat. Which maybe I am in some metaphorical way, why not.

I told my three kids I want to open their presents on Saturday, when we have time to dwell and enjoy without me running after a clock for some external reason. They totally just accepted that without a question. So now I look forward to Saturday morning, where no doubt they will wake me up with a birthday song again, and I will be covered in presents and happy children.

I sit here with gift jewelry in both of my light blue jeans pockets. Feeling grateful. 203 people have greeted me on Facebook yesterday. Such an overwhelming wave of loveliness.

Lucky is my middle name.
Life is not always easy.
But what hasn’t killed me has made me stronger.
I’m still alive, health is good.
I have inspiration and laughter in my life.
And a whole lot of love.
Truely wealthy.
That’s me.


Tips on Writing


Started this Saturday morning with looking through my comments. Found out a lot of it is spam. So I pressed Unapprove, but nothing seemed to happen. Pressed Trash and it went away. Then I searched for a plugin “spam filter”, and it is now installed. So hopefully I can spend my time on the genuine comments from real people instead of trashing endless lists of links to shops or whatever it is.

A few of the comments are about how to start a blog.

I have replied to a handful of them, but let me just say it here to everyone; I use WordPress. It is very easy to download / install or what it´s called (Says my husband who did it for me!)  And free. The design, as you can see, is wonderful. Many themes to choose from.  I chose the colour scheme with a simple tick in a box! And my site loads very fast in most browsers. Some say it doesn´t work that well in IE. I don´t know how to fix that. I basically know very little about blogging. My husband set it up through my domain where I have an old homepage. And then I just started writing posts. Instant gratification. 🙂

Writing. That I do know a little about. Many of the comments from you readers have been about whether I have tips for aspiring writers. So I thought, ok, let that be the title of today´s blog post. Here goes:

I have been writing since I was four and a half years old. Age six I had saved up enough money to buy myself a desk! For christmas age eight I got a typewriter (before they became electric). So. It has been a passion of mine since…. birth or beyond. Probably I have been writing my way through many lifetimes. As a munk in Nepal, for example, copying buddhist scriptures by hand. I don´t know. It wouldn´t surprise me, though.


Fingertips. Is the first word that springs to mind, and so I allow it through. Not knowing what to do with it next but resting assured that my fingertips will type their way into some kind of meaningful combination of letters…

What I am trying to picture by that, is. When I write, I silence my mind. I listen within, to what COMES to mind. Then I go with the flow.

So my advice would be to meditate. Focus on your breathing to still your mind. You can´t hear your heart when your mind rambles on. That self critic is also a tough one to get passed. That inner voice that says: “This isn´t good enough. Who do you think you are?!”. Silence it. It is not your friend, it is anti helpful, a voice of fear. Don´t let it be the ruler of your writing. (Two lines underneath that conclusion. Haha. With the ruler used as a ruler).

I have gone to maybe a dozen of writing workshops in my life. When they have crossed my path, I have attended them, and learnt a lot about where to find inspiration, what tools and rules to use in poetry writing, one has to know them to go beyond them, I reckon… I did courses on screenplay writing and short film script writing, a course in creative writing when I lived in Bahrain, poetry writing classes in Bergen, and a writing circle where we read our work out loud to eachother and gave eachother evaluations (That circle work really gave me a lot of confidence and understanding about what works and doesn´t work) …

And I have read a bunch of books about the art of writing. Don´t remember their titles here and now. Search and you shall find. Nothing like the thrill of going to a library or book store and there it just IS, the book you´re looking for, seeming to jump out at you from the shelf! I loooove that feeling. Discovering books. Taking them home. Jumping into bed with them and staying there until we´re finished, if I have the time to read uninterrupted. Before I had kids, I used to spend easter holidays in Bergen in my tiny attic flat behind a locked door, with a full fridge and tons of books, cartoons and cds from the library. Total peace, wrapped up in the embrace of mindblowing reads, written with love by someone who wanted to teach something interesting, and who knew how to communicate with elegance and humour.

I spent a lot of my childhood reading. I did soccer too, age 8-16, and piano lessons same timespan. I did tree climbing and apple stealing. But probably more than anything else, I loved to read. I had a huge cardboard box in my room, filled with cartoons. When I had read them I took them to a second hand bookstore and swapped them into new loads of magazines and books.

So to be a good writer, read.

And choose consciously what you read, because the language used will influence your writing style. Don´t worry though. Read what you feel attracted towards reading. Follow your heart! Listen within!

Some times I play with key words. Association game. I write the first word that comes, down. And underneath it, next line, I write the word that comes when I think about the first one I wrote. Like:








………………………. it is an excercise helping my mind let go, or maybe rather allowing it to be part of the game, but stopping the rambling, coz I´m not interested in whole or half sentences of sense making………

I think that to write well, it is good to be out of one´s mind……..

Depending on genre. Of course.

In my university years, it was hard to write anything that wasn´t in a scientific language. A very rational, logical structure. From a to b, referring to sources, building up theories. Interesting enough. But not juicy, exciting, passionate or fun…. it doesn´t have to be either. It´s ok. But those textbooks that were written in a looser flow, with a sense of humour, in prose like language… those are the books I remember. That´s one of the reasons too that social anthropology was my favourite subject.  All those fieldwork reports, by anthropologists living with a tribe somewhere, for years, trying to describe and understand their ways of thinking and doing things…. compelling reads.

Well. Where were we?

Silence your mind


Read books on writing

Go to courses

Make association games

What more?

Well….. to me writing is an inner process. Of listening. Actually. I feel   it´s a question of connecting. To my Inner Self. The collective Self. Or to Spirit. Different sources, or maybe rather aspects of the same one source.

When I silence my self, words come to mind.  Sometimes when I write, I start writing quite fast, and only afterwards, when I read through it, do I discover there are rhythms and rhymes in the text, often some words stand out as old fashion or odd, words I don´t normally use…. I think this is inspired writing, from Spirit. Ancestors  or other helpers, on the other side of the veil of death. Yes I do. It´s not automatic writing. But it´s related to that expression, I think.  I´m often not the creator of what I write. I feel. I´m just tapping into the Source, allowing it through. Receiving end. This belief may be true or not, it´s not important to me, as it helps me not to worry about ego issues such as taking honour, or is it good enough, as I´m just letting it through. The quality is up to the sender, and up to the reader. I see myself as …. a medium… a piece in the middle… a bridge between.

Between what? Realms or dimensions? Probably. Between Inspiration and Expression. Content and Form.

Isn´t this fun?! Hahahaha…… Just take your self out of the equation. And there you are. Writing away, Free from inhibition. Just listen within. Without. Sit still. Stop thinking. And let it come through the receiver of you. That last line even rhymes, so it must be true.


I hope this post is more helpful than confusing? If not then I´m sorry about that. Maybe other people have better advice about the art of writing. I can only give you what I know.

I wish kids in school would learn more creative writing. How to use it to see their own thoughts on issues. Like write lists of pros and cons when they have to make a difficult decision. If you write down one point at the time, then when the mind can´t think of more plus or minus things about the situation in question, you have a sheet of paper in front of you that clearly visualizes that one side has more points than the other side. Or, if not, then use a neon marker and use it to highlight the five most important points to you, for example. Our minds are such great tools. Lightyears better than any computer.  Play with that brain. Use a pen to document what it says to you. Then analyze the result.

I do the same with emotional challenges. Always have done. When I feel strong, disturbing emotions, I grab a pen and paper (not a pc, pen works better for me), and I scribble all my thoughts and feelings down until I feel empty. After that, when my minds goes into loop and wants to repeat the entire tirade over again, I tell it to shut up and read through the written once again, adding if necessary. Then, a day or two later, my subconsciousness has digested some of the stuff in my sleep and I sit down and continue the text. I read through what I have written, and then I continue. And suddenly I find myself writing why I felt that way and what the deeper causes maybe could be, and suggestions to solving the situation… solutions…

I don´t know what that process is called. It´s a kind of self therapy maybe? Dialogue with myself… it helps me understand myself. And to let go of difficult emotions. Ex press. Press out. Kept within under lock, it will make me implode. Tension intensifies. Pressure builds up. Until I release it in writing. Or singing out loud. Dancing. Many ways.

I have always kept a diary. These days I keep a facebook status. And have a journal on the side, for emotional processes and ideas etc. I love facebook. Always wanted to make poster campaigns. Now I have a constant wall for poster campaigns! 🙂 Plus the chat. What a glorious age of communication we are living in.

One more tip just came to mind. Morning pages! I got that from a book on writing tips. You keep a notebook and pen on your bedside table. As soon as you wake up, you write down five pages. Every morning. Before getting up.  It does not matter what you write. Most of it may be silly nonsense, doesn´t matter. If you write “I don´t have a clue what to write” for five pages, it´s okay. It´s a way to train your brain. To stop staying in control of your inner flow coming through. As you wake up, you are still in close contact with your sub conscious. So it´s easier to tune into you intuition… often, I found that there would be a couple of pages of boring lines, then suddenly a paragraph or two of more inspired wordings… be it a poem or an anecdote or just sentences with rhythm or interesting viewpoints… Morning pages. Very good help.

What else. All in all it´s a matter of having a playful approach towards it. Don´t be serious and push yourself. Have fun with your mind, invite it to play games with your heart. Allow your inner voice to come out, without filter. Then you edit later. If you critisize as your write, then you stop the flow. In my opinion.

Find inspiration. Close your eyes and with your index finger on a written text, circle around and stop! And look. Which word is your finger pointing at, right there? Or is it just a letter? The letter L? Then write a list of ten words starting with L.  After that, write five sentence with five of the words.  Maybe it leads you somewhere interesting. Or maybe you got the word “simple”. Then write the word down. What comes after that? Ask within. Be quiet. Listen. It comes to mind.

Simple. As in going with the flow. Letting go. No rule. One word at the time. And it carries on until you feel it´s finished.  Simple!

Be in Joy – ed !








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.