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The New

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2015

Still sounds fresh and unusual. Fifteen.

Like every year´s name does, first January week.

School and kindergarten started up again today.

I´m in my tiny garden hut, with my stereo and my radiator.

Big coffee mug. Soundtrack from the movie “Himalaya”.

The new is entering me, is being entered by me.

Continue good progress, and say goodbye to the old.

Find money. Got to find money.

Stepping up, visible and unafraid.

Welcoming my growing knowledge of sound therapy.

Accepting the cape of the healer. Feeling honoured yet worthy.

Ready with my hermit lantern and my sword of clarity.

At the service of Spirit. Allowing, allowed. I surrender. Gratitude.

Asking for assistance in being the best I can be.

As a writer, singer, healer, mother, friend, sister, daughter and wife.

As a woman, poetically orientated, dedicated to peace and to joy.

No less. And also no more.

Why live in small letters when there are capitals?

I hereby get up and stand up for my right

to create and to reach out and share my inner riches

for the benefit of All.

Thank you, UniVerse, for being me.

Please stand by me.

In the new now.

And please stand by each one of us who wants to do lightwork.

Guide us, strengthen us, enthuse us.

And so it is.

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A piece of christmas peace

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Dear reader

Thanks for dropping by my blog. Taking time to read my writtens. Hope it smittens; that you’ll be back and read some more. If you leave a comment I will be extremely overjoyous. But no duty. I´m thankful for your presence,  is the essence.

I just woke up, and thought “I must write a chrismas post”. So here I am, typing away, at my desk by the window upstairs in my house, while it´s still pitch black outside my window. Let´s see where the “pen” takes us:

Yesterday I went with my husband and 3 kids (10, soon 5 and soon 3) to the mainland, the town of Esbjerg. As there is the cutest little gallery there, hidden away in a backyard, called Henneberghus, which is the surname of its owner, Tina.

Now she is a whole story of her own. A painter, a fairytale writer and a hostess so bubbly and gentle and happy and sweet it attracts 30 people every month to her Litterature Salons (I had the pleasure of reading my Norwegian poetry there once too)… musicians from the music academy entertain between the read-ups (Don´t know if read-up is a word but it should be)! … People come back again and again, me for one I´m there every time. A very rare athmosphere, so intimate and relaxed, and spiced with genuine smiles and comfortable laughter. Tina senses any tension present and just simply says something that makes it disappear. True treasure. A word oasis, as she once called her litterature space. That word is hers. Do not take it from this blog and obuse it or say you made it up yourself, you hear! :o)

So we went there, as Tina had invited for christmas “hygge” (a very important Danish word they use all the time, meaning… cosyness…). There were 25 people, or thereabouts, which makes the little gallery in the backyard quite full yet not unpleasantly so. There were chrismas cookies and gløgg (red wine warmed up with cinnamon, raisins and chopped almonds), cocoa and soft drinks, and chairs around a table, sofa along the back wall. So there we were. Meeting up with many faces familiar from the litterature salons through the year that has passed, saying hello to a couple of new faces, and just. Being and smiling. My kids soon met other kids, they started chasing each other around the table, so they were encouraged to go outside and play in the yard, where we could enjoy watching them through the window without hearing them quite as clearly. Handy thing, that backyard placing.

Two ladies from Greenland sang christmas carols for us in their language. I always love hearing people from Greenland sing. Quite something else. Unique style. Heartwarming.

After two hours in the gallery, we left the party after a round of   merry christmas-see you in the new year-hugs. We entered Esbjerg bathed in sunlight and joined the stream of shoppers in the walking street. Father christmas came by, driving a small, red train loaded with people. My kids waved at him, he waved back, big white beard and very fat looking. Just like he´s supposed to look. Lovely.

We found a christmas present for a new relative in my family this year, my sister´s boyfriend´s son, 14 years of age. I bet my niece and nephew (8 and 5) are well chuffed and immensely proud that they now have a big brother! Soon they will all move into a brand new house they are building together. For now they all live in my sister´s house. I so appreciate that my family is not only losing members (talking about my motherinlaw who left 30.09.this year, and my father who left 26.10.2010 especially… the list is long really). My family is not only losing members, but also gaining new ones. I deeply appreciate that.

After that present being bought, the long queue survived with 3 kids and a husband not really wanting to spend their time in there, I left them by the skating ice on the mid town square, that the city always arrange there for the winter months. I left my bunch there to watch all the people skate, and went into another shop. Quickly found what I wanted to buy for my bonus daughter´s boyfriend, but the queue was so long that I decided to drop it. As we had more on our programme, and the clock was ticking.

I went back to the ice, and we decided to go and eat. On the way we saw a man carving Saint Lucy out of a block of ice! Sankta Lucia. Who walks with candles, singing a beautiful, simple hymn of moving with light into the darkness. 13.of December is St.Lucia day in Scandinavia. I don´t know if it´s international. I don´t even know the story behind the tradition properly. It´s one I would like to learn some day. It is very moving to see children in white robes carrying a candle, walking slowly in a long row, while they sing that same, beautiful song I have heard so many times before. It does my heart in.   🙂

We went for a quick burger meal (Sunset, one notch healthier than the other burger chains avalable on the main street there), and then went back to our car and drove to a church a bit out of town. Treenighedskirken. The trinity church, It is a modern white church, inside it has 4 huge triangles meeting in a star shaped point in the middle of the ceiling. 3 of the triangles are glass windows, and my little son said they look like sails which I can only agree with. The fourth triangle holds a balcony where the big church organ is placed. The ceiling is white, with lots of circular “holes” stamped into it, pardon my lack of English skills in explaining this one. All I really want with this description is to say that I appreciate the beauty of church architecture, and I get so pleased when I enter a modern looking church and find they have gone to great length to create a space of esthetics, serenity, sacredness and not the least, good acoustics.

The reason we were in this church, was that my husband´s grown up son Kasper (you can read about his recent wedding elsewhere in my blog)… Kasper used to be a member of the men´s quoir in this church. Which is one of the best quoirs in Denmark, as they have a conductor who actively goes around to the local schools testing boys from the tender age of 8, recruiting the best voices into her quoir, which really functions as a singing school, and they go for trips all around the world together, all these men and the little boys and her, Lone the conductor, isn´t that just greatly inspiring?!

Kasper used to be in this quoir until he moved to Copenhagen to study music. And yesterday they celebrated their 50.birthday and so they invited all the previous members to join the quoir for a concert and following reception and dinner.

The church was full. My youngest one fell asleep in his pram on our way into the building. So he missed the entrance of the quoir, They came in through a double door just next to my seat. They were quite old men, most of them. Then, from the main door, came little boys. They all quietly started singing Deilig er jorden, my favourite chrismas hymn, as they walked in slowly, until they formed a circle around the audience. My skin got all goose bumpy, and remained so for the hour their concert lasted.

I think it´s that goose bumpy feeling that made me wake up knowing I had to write a christmas spirit post today. Christmas is all about goose bumps and teared-up eyes and melted hearts, isn´t it. (For the lucky ones). All about the baby and the mother, the wonder of the mystery, the hope for support and a brighter future. Acknowledging our relations, showing our love for one another through exchanging presents in each other´s appreciated presence. Enjoying the expressions of gratitude, of excited children. Sharing rituals of food and tv programmes and hand held singing around a pine tree decorated with things daddy made when he was a school boy… for example…Rituals. Things we do together, again and again, in a set pattern and rhythm.  It is soul language. It is nurturing our roots, reassuring our belonging in a group. Which is a human instinct. To belong.

After half an hour, my little son woke up, pretty confued, as he wasn´t in the church when he fell asleep. But I managed to pick him up and get his hat and coat off without him making a single sound to disturb the music. He surprised me by just sitting on my lap, all quiet, listening intently. Once, where the soprano voices of the young singers reached a crescendo, he made a gasp. I looked at him. He could feel it just like I could! His eyes all wide, mouth open, he could hardly believe his ears, or maybe rather, he recognized that bell-like sound from somewhere deep in his unconscious…

I whispered to him: “when you are eight years old, you may sing with the other boys there. Would you like that?” “Yes.” he said, not a moment´s hesitation, nodding eagerly. I was quite amazed at that.

Time will tell.  What will be will be. Let it come.

(The only thing I wish for my children, is that they are happy. Whether they sing in quoirs or not, is not connected to my sense of honour. Their path is theirs to find, and I will support them no matter what it is they choose for their happiness).

I think I will fade our of this little snapshot of my yesterday, with the opening poem of my book “Heart Matters”, titled:

Let it come

Patience, precious mode of being

Waiting, watching, feeling, seeing

Landscapes from an eagle´s view

The Flow will guide the Adventure of You

 

Dear reader. I wish you a peaceful christmas time. With good health and a warm heart, with many smiles and a profound feeling of gratitude filling your excistence.

I know it´s not always possible. But this is still my wish.

For you, and for every living creature on this globe.

Merry christmas.

(And if I knew how to incorporate an image of a video piece here, I would import from Youtube the music video of my favourite christmas popsong, “Do they know it´s christmas?” You know, the one with all the pop stars of Britain in it, collecting money for drought victims in Ethiopia. Bob Geldof, Boy George, Duran Duran, Wham, u2, Midge Ure, Darryl Hannah, Sting, Ultravox, …the two guys behind the great song “you´re in the army now`, what´s their names again…   …And all the rest of them eighties popstar people, Thanks for that song. I was about 12 when it came out, and it strongly impacted my idea of what christmas is all about).

Merry christmas.

And may the next year be the best year we have ever seen.

May the best be yet to come.

Peace!

 

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A blogger & her blog

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Hey Presto! Mio manifesto!

Or something else, equally enthusiastic. I just checked my blog counter. And it says the blog site has been visited 64 times!!
Maybe that´s not a lot at all in the world of blogs, but.
In my innocent state of blog ignorance, it sounds tremendous.
Just yesterday I was struggling with thoughts like; why blog, or write at all, there are so many people doing it, high quality, and I know nothing about blogging or how to make it be read out there in the wild wild web, the dream stream where so many great ideas and projects sink to the bottom without anyone ever having noticed at all, that it was out there floating about…

But.
This counter number really encourages me. I will keep going. And when my tiny tot son soon starts kindergarten (7.of Oct.), I will get time and energy to research how professional blogging is done. Not that the info will mean there is commercial hope for a blog like this one. But just to know. And even if it isn´t possible to make money out of this typing, I will keep blogging. Just like I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember. From before I started school. Writing is simply necessary for my wellbeing. And to have someone actually read what one writes, is … a gift I truely appreciate, money or no money. It carries its own reward. Both the writing. And the being read.

Anyways. The heading today; A blogger and her blog, is an intertextual referance to my first piano notes booklet.
It was called A girl and her piano.
I guess it symbolizes to me, being at the starting point of learning a new skill. Like blogging. Or piano playing.

I played the piano age 10-16. Learning from an elderly lady, a very elegant one. And nice. Never telling me off for not having practiced enough at home. (Again). Always just playing the piece for me, then supporting me through learning it note by note. A great pleasure to master a new piece. The music from my key-pressing, became more and more nice to listen to! I mean, from the first very simple songs, twinkle twinkle little star… to more complex classical pieces, like “March from Carmen” …

Age 16 I quit. Two reasons. Or maybe three. First, we moved from Haugesund to Karmøy. Half an hour by bus. So it made my piano lessons and football practice more difficult to keep up. I continued football for a short while, and quit piano. Also because I was more interested in sitting at home listening to pop and rock music, making collages of pop idols, gluing pictures from magazines, and drawing words at great detail, writing poems about being in love, and about the fear of atomic war, and such. This was 1988.

But the third reason I quit piano lessons, is the more interesting one. It was because, every xmas my teacher arranged a concert by all her students, for our families. That last xmas, I was her oldest student, hence her show piece, the one she was the most proud of. Which is a compliment. But. It made me feel very pressurized. That my performance somehow was connected to my teacher´s honour. And my parents´ pride in me.
I remember the numbing nervousness prior to walking on stage. The fear of forgetting notes, or just freezing half way through.
My performance went well. Everyone was smiling, clapping.
I went down from the stage and back to my parents´and little sister´s table. I took the bottle of coke to pour myself a glass. The glass bottle hit the edge of my glass like a drumstick! How extremely humiliating to my teenager heart. My father leaned across the table and put a finger on the bottleneck, stopping the sound. He looked me in the eyes, with a gentle laughter. A precious moment, but at the same time I felt ashamed, that everyone now had heard as well as now could see from his holding the bottle, how nervous I had been.

My teacher was sad that I quit. Told my parents I could reach far if I wanted to. I don´t know how conscious I was about my reasons for quitting. I probably just felt like it. Maybe these reasons were not even correct. Just a product of my hindsight theorizing.
But it doesn´t really matter. They are the reasons as I see it today. Correct or not correct, they still hold value as my present truth.

More than twenty years later, in 2010, I decided to find out what my stagefright was caused by, and to try and get over it. As I was in a project which would have me hold an opening speech at an exhibition of my poetry and video installation, linked with paintings by Fanø´s fine artist Margit Enggaard. Easter 2011. At Fanø Kunstmuseum.

My husband works at a university college, and there they have this lady employed, who helps the students get rid of their exam anxiety. Which is very related to stagefright.
The fear of not performing good enough.
So we contacted her, and she came over to ours 3 times in all, doing her magic using TFT, thought field therapy. Whilst tapping gently on points on my fingers, hands, head and face, she asked me questions about how it felt when I thought about holding that opening speech. She asked if I recognized this feeling from earlier experiences in my lifetime. Yes, I said. From a piano concert when I was a teenager. Ok, she said. Let´s rewind the film that is your life until we get to that concert. Are you there? Now step into your body. What does the feeling look like? Now send waves or rays of love from your heart to the origin of that feeling, choose a colour for the waves or rays that feels right…….

That´s how we worked. Visualizing event after event connected to my fear. From time to time returning to that question; you will hold that opening speech soon. On a scale from 1 to 10, how tense does that make you feel? And I tell you, after an hour of the tapping and the talking and the visualization of changing my inner…self protecting shortcuts…which I had created during my related life “traumas”… like reflexes, my mind automatically stopping me from having a similar, so disturbing experience ever again… After an hour, I felt, still tense, but not at all like before we started. Beginning at ten, after one session I was down to a 4! And after three session, when she reminded me I would hold that speech soon, I just smiled, and said I could actually no longer feel stressed when thinking about it. ! True! I still don´t believe it, but. It´s gone!

Thought field therapy.
Extremely interesting method for healing.
I can no longer claim to have stagefright.
Not that it makes me want to jump on stage.
But there is no numbing fear paralizing me, making it completely impossible if and when I need to … well. Perform.

I strongly dislike that word perform. Form in front of. With people watching, judging. I much prefer to write something and send it off. Or edit video, with me singing on it for example, and then send it off. Not to have to perform live.
To be present whilst video is running, is actually a kick, though; I tried that at my exhibition. It´s such a thrill to experience the audience responding; do they laugh where I laughed whilst making it? Do they see the link between words, images and melodies, the same way as me? Or in a different way, which would increase my understanding of my own work? And hence influence my future work, make it better than the last work I made?

It´s not that I don´t want to connect with the receiver of the products I make. I just find it hard to stand there in person, representing my work, feeling the feelings of the receivers.
Although this may not be exactly true anymore. As I did try to read out my Norwegian poems in a gallery called Henneberghuset in Esbjerg this spring. And I actually, to my great surprise, utterly enjoyed it!

I guess I will have to collect new experiences, to fully realize I am now free from stagefright. And all those old thoughts I still have, connected to my previous inner blockage, need to be replaced by more positive ones, relevant to my new inner reality.

Hey, next I will be seen on MTV (or whatever the newer music video channels are called), all naked, swinging a mike like a lasso over my punk rock mohawked head (purple and orange hair colour, of course), shouting “IS ANYBODY HUNGRYYYYYY? HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF??? WANT A VIEW TO A KIIIIILL? WELL THAT AIN´T GONNA HAPPEN, DURAN DURAN WAS YESTERDAY, THIS IS THE NEW NOW, HAVE SOME OF THIIIIIIIS!!!”

Hmmmm. I guess I will have to learn a bit of el-guitar.
Or maybe rather a base guitar, plus a percussion setup I can play with pedals whilst doing those funky base riffs. Oh yeah. YEEAAHH!!

As I always say: Imagination is the only limitation.

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The we in wedlock

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I just arrived home again, having been to Copenhagen for 5 days.
Been to my husband´s oldest son´s wedding. (In Denmark they call their partner´s kids their “bonus-kids”. So he´s my bonus-son. I have a bonus-daughter as well. I´m truely lucky to have them).

We have had the pleasure of seeing Kasper and his Fie tie the sacred knot of twosome togetherness. Exchange little bands of gold, slipped gently around each others´ happy fingers.
Two lovely people in their twenties, having been together for eleven years already, their thriving baby son a living proof of the joyous warmth between them. Love moves people. Long Live Love.

There was a huge party. About a hundred people. Family and friends. Speeches and home made songs about the couple, lots of different bands on stage, as the groom is a very active guitarist. Her girlfriends made a speech together, and his childhood mate did a funny quiz. There was splendid food, open bar, the wedding cake, and after the bridal waltz, the groom´s socks were cut in two with scissors, by his male friends. Possibly to demonstrate that his new wife will know how to sow the socks back together? I´m not sure. Traditions can be pretty weird. In this case funny weird.

In the wedlock ritual, wellknown from previous experience by everyone present, a circle was formed.
All these smiling people, dancing, singing the praise of romance… we all belonged this evening in the circle of Kasper and Fie.
A community whose members don´t meet normally, other than
in little groups. As we are spread across the country.
To see all their people together, see everyone shake hands and some who never met before, start to get to know each other…
It´s hard to find the words to express the significance of this.

It creates one shared understanding of the couple´s essence.
It creates a bond, not only between the newlyweds,
but between central people in their network.

Basically it creates a superfine spider-web
spun between hearts, with soft and silky wedding-thread.

(It´s tempting to make two more rhyming lines there, but I think I will try to stop myself. The image deserves to stand alone, somehow).

The ritual of wedding, makes a milestone.
Marks a togetherness.
It is a great investment by the couple, in my humble opinion.

Stating two people´s wish to stand united through time.
A symbol of hope and faith for everyone connected to the two.
Not faith as in God save us all or the queen.
But faith as in courage to hold on, to believe it can be done,
that the commitment to romance is worth fighting for.

Lighting up the flames of passion, of compassion, of Love eternal.
Inviting everyone close, to come participate in the celebration.
An honour. A great gift given to each guest. A heartmelting experience that will remain in all of us as a precious, fond memory for the rest of our lives.

The we in wedlock. Includes many more than only two.
Is what I want to say.
The weekend´s party´s left me with an attitude of gratitude.
New warmth glowing in my heart. I´m positive this we is here to stay.

Like the groom sung in his speech;
“I will fight for the right to love you.”

(Backed-up by his band The Grenadines. They promised that his wedding song will be released as the first track on their album no.2. Too late for their album no.1, as it is to be released any day now. Check them out on Facebook. Beautiful melodic music).

Long Live Love.
Ever-lasting Love.
Dance me to the end of Love.

:o)

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Okay…

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So. Here we are now… entertain us… as said a certain K. Cobain.

I´m a bit dazzled. Suddenly I have a blog for the first time! Have been thinking about it for quite a while. As I love writing and write quite elaborately on my Facebook profile.

I will just write what comes to me naturally. No fixedness. No boxes.

“Destroy roofs and walls. See in all the rooms at once.”                                        – Jim Morrison.

I predict I will be talking about two things mainly in the weeks to come; my lazer eye operation experience (happening 23. of Sept.)

And my current change in life situation, as I will go from being a mother-staying-at-home to being mother-of-kindergarten-children-looking-for-source-of-income. This shift happens with my little son´s entry into kindergarten 7. of October.

Well. Dinner here now. Time to switch off the dvd cartoon, and get my oldest daughter to put down her Minecraft.

As we say in Norway; Vi snakkes! ( = We´ll talk again)!

 

 

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