Poem

How sharp does the line say I’m mountain.
The khaki tells the gray,
here is where I begin and end and here is where I’ll stay

When sunlight breaks through heavy sky
and touches autumn gold,
it tells me, listen friend it is my story too here told.

Then falling leafs disguised as bird
no longer hide the singing thrush.
I gather them where they fell  and play to hear their brush

My life but a circle wide and as deep as I can see,
where heart’s content and cloudless joy
tell the story that is me.

I just don´t see the problem

I must admit this is a recent phenomena, I used to be an expert in seeing problems, detecting them before they arose, analyzing them at length and creating some new ones as I went along. For most problems, real or imaginary, I could sum up an impressive list of solutions and although I tend to lean towards the more simple ones, the ones I could single handedly handle, I could, if in the mood, spin solutions so complex that for them to work the whole world needed to change drastically. But of late I just don’t see the problem.

This does by no means mean that live is smooth sailing and besides I used to see a problem in sailing smoothly anyway. No, life still shows itself in all its facets and a lot of those facets you could, if you wanted to,  label as a problem. For instants, recently I moved house and homeland, now if you want to see problems lining up, move house. Although it was a lot of hard work, I never saw the problem. By the way that was the first time I noticed this strange new phenomena, I contributed this to lake of sleep and the long days of hard work. But just a few days ago I realized it has become a more permanent thing.

I not only moved stuff from one place to another but also NaNa and Flow and my 14 year old mare Ness. After a days ride I put her on what I thought was a fenced of field, I fed her and gave her water and headed home. The next day she was nowhere to be found not even a mark on the ground or a pile of shit to tell me where she went. Now I must admit that I could feel panic present itself and the machine of seeing problems started ticking, but as soon as it started it stopped. While walking around looking for shit I questioned myself: “don’t you love Ness?, there is 80.000 acres of woodland for her to get lost in”. But loving her was not the problem nor the solution, that is just the way it is. As I drove home to get the dogs and start a  searchge party I tried to get myself in problem solving mode, but I couldn’t. I just went back with the dogs and started the party to search with an ease and calmness that did not feel out of sorts to me at all.

After a long day of fruitless searching and with a lot of talking to people who know people I sat on the stairs in my new house and wondered when the problem would hit me, but it didn’t, nor did the panic.

The next morning I went back to look for her and after a few hours of walking and driving around I stopped at my local café for a cup of coffee and told of my missing horse. Before I knew it people who knew people where called and the location of Ness was known. I went to pick her up and there I found myself in the middle of nowhere with a car, two dogs of leash, with Flow loving to chase anything and everything and a frantic horse on a piece of string and I just could not see the problem, all I could see was the action to take; moving forward freely and taking it as it comes.

The farmer, whose field it was, grinned at this peculiar gathering of souls, he parked my car and told me have faith and off we went. It was a four hour walk filled with fantastic moments and incredible sights and with every step I could feel this new phenomena become more me.  I put Ness back in her field and fenced it of properly this time and sat down next to her tired and grateful. A neighbor passed by and I told my story of the missing horse and the long walk. ”You must be tired then” she responded. “Yep” I replied happily “and all I need to do now is to walk all the way back to get to my car”. She let out a big sigh and shook her head in dismay, but as I saw the sun melting slowly with the mountains, I just could not see the problem.

Fishhooks

Fear like fishhooks in my skin

Who put them in and when and why,

it does not matter anymore.

One by one I pull them out, careful not to break the skin.

I thank each hook for its purpose, its lesson, its pain.

Then tell myself “never again” and put the hook aside on an ever growing pile.

Some were easy to take out, some were hard to remove

Some pinned beliefs of self onto my skin,

Some pinned my eyes shut or kept my lips from speaking.

Sunken in so deep new skin grew over it, and you’d hardly notice it was ever there.

But in the silence I could hear them faintly whisper what to fear, where not to go and why.

I hear the voice of the ones who put it there and mine as I repeat the mantra of fear.

I listen carefully and accept their lesson, see their point, thank them for the heads up.

But I do take the hook out and put it on the ever growing pile.

I’ll forge a ring out of those hooks one day to remind me of the circles I broke,

the lessons I learned and the freedom that I gain.

Or not, I might just leave them behind and walk away whistling.

Thoughts on fear

Show me what you are most fearful of and I’ll show you the opportunities you let slide.

Thoughts on fear

There is no such thing as fear without a purpose, but 9 out of 10 fear overgrows purpose.

Find purpose, stop fear.

Thoughts on fear

Fear is like your face early in the morning before you put on your make up.

No matter how much eye shadow and lip gloss you put on that face is still there.

Learning to greet your wrinkled morning face with a smile is the first step towards smiling at fear and have it smile back.

A or E

Apathy - Empathy.
What is the difference?
What is the difference really?

Thoughts on fear

Fear is like Velcro, lots of things get stuck on to it, even if you don’t want to.

Thoughts on fear

Fear is the other side of freedom

Thoughts on fear

Don´t buy into it!

It will cost you dearly and leave you empty handed

Thoughts on fear

Surpass your own fear.

Then surpass that of others.

A sight to behold

So there I am, it’s a cold night and the near full moon is casting a bright blue light through the canvas of the tent. With my woolly hat and socks on I have crawled into my sleeping bag. The batteries of my flashlight are dying fast and the cardboard box on my knees is getting heavy. There is a purring coming from the box and a soft paw is reaching for my finger. In the dim light I see something glistening and the purring becomes louder. MyoMyo is giving birth tonight, right here right now.  

It is like a bizarre X-Mass scene, the ox and ass are cats and dogs and no wise man here just a silly woman and a snoring man and no star of Bethlehem just a failing flash light.

I can’t keep my eyes off this serene scene. MyoMyo does not seem to be in any pain just the need to push, she does not have the need for privacy, we are all family here. We are all welcome to watch and purr with her. Flow is falling asleep her head resting on the box, NaNa want a better view and scoots on over, cats walk in and out of the box, there is grooming and purring and some snoring in this tranquil tent. 

What a gift to get on this cold night. Eventually I too fall asleep, but not before I found a save place for the box and its precious cargo, right next to my pillow covert by my woolly blanket to keep some warmth in and in the morning a proud mum shows me her four kittens, the look just like her, black and white, only a few sizes smaller.

InneMinneMutte

Home..., don't feel it here, nor anywhere else.
it's not you who's not welcoming, nor is it me.
Home meant alone for so long, sheltered from whatever, alone.
Now I’m not so sure.

Although the feeling remains: “me strange”
and the comfort that gives is still warm,
I do feel I’m lacking something, some way to connect....
Is it me that drifted to far? Or is it you who can’t reach?
Or is it neither, is it just time, just space, just….

And we both move on, no need to wait or to hurry.
See another in glimpses, interpreted always wrong,
But close enough to heart and cared enough by soul.
We each take a step, a plunge and watch the other grow

Past present

I past the stage of anger, resentment and regret.

Awe has replaced bewilderment as it should,

and joy I now see through older eyes maybe for the first time and again and again.

Cynicism, a shadow of the past, I remember with a twinkle in my eye “I never was that bad” 

Talk to me crazy, call me names....

A glass of wine, an empty space,
a longing heart in a fruitful phase.
A hunger for you being there.
Understanding the need to share.
A crappy poem, another sip
the need to move on, a need to stay,
an understanding of the way.

I gained more than I cared to lose.
I don't see clear what is meant to be,
but do see clearly who is me.
Of you I get only a glimpse at best,
a taste of presents, a grayed out past

Still the longing to be shared,
the need for you to know I cared,
the right to connect.
A lack of form, misplaced and mistaken.
Taken for granted more than I can take.
Sorry..., my mistake.

In a tong that is nor mine, nor is it yours
I babble and walk towards Buddha.
Lay my head in his lap and know,
no rest for you yet my love, move a little further still.
I hunger for me being you and you me,
maybe more for the lather rather than the first.

I thirst,
can feel the scratching at my heart, tugging at my soul,
I'm alone here and always was
though the company I kept was more than fine
I take my steps solo and slowly running
the red shoes fit me better day by day
dancing on my ego's grave.

The glass not half empty, the bottle not half full
time's ticking at the same speed, at a different hour.
none the less what is mine is yours and you have what's mine
I crave for it and don't know how to give it to us
what am I lacking here, is it your attention or is it mine.

Bump in the night.

It is dark out and a little nippy too. I warm my toes by the fire, my feet resting comfortably on a log, I feel content and relaxed. I hear a distant cry coming from the black of night and I wonder what bird is making that sound. Unwittingly I hold my breath and listen, but the beast holds its beak. I relax again and throw another log on the fire.

There it is again, is it a whistle or a cry? Maybe it’s a night owl, or maybe not a bird at all, but a stoat or a whatyoumaycallit. The sounds seems nearby now, right next to me it seems. I prick my ears. Funny enough the sound has the same rhythm as my breath.

It turns out to be my own nose whistling Dixie. Untamed nostrils got my fancy tickled and my mind trying on the suit and attitude of sir David Attenborough.

Noisy nostrils and nothing more, I smile and I hear another noise I don’t know of, the night is full of it…and so am I.

Falling star

A star falling,
I make a wish.

I'll bet the star falling wished it wasn’t falling.

We people make people stars, let them rise, make them fall.

I just wonder if anyone makes a wish as such a star is falling. Bet that they wished for something when that star was rising.

Another star drops out of the sky on this warm august night, I wish on that grain of sand catching fire, no one get hurt tonight.

Judgment day

Saw some chairs in a thrift shop, 6 chairs for half prize, a X-Mass sale of sorts. For that prize I thought they were good chairs, sturdy chairs, chairs worth having.  We had our dogs with us so six big chunky oak chairs would not fit in our small car. We decided to come back the Saturday before  X-Mass. On our way back and all days leading up to Saturday I praised those chairs, there aesthetics, their quality, the craftsmanship, and how good they would look in our, yet to be build, kitchen. 

Me and dates are no match and I never realized that Saturday was X-Mass, save to say that the thrift shop was closed.   

After the holidays I went back hoping the  chairs would still be there, and they were. But the prize was back to the days before the X-Mass sale and suddenly my view of the chairs changed dramatically, I saw flaws where I had seen craftsmanship, I saw old where I had seen antique. 

The chairs did not change but my mind did. That is where clinging on and judging of leads you, on the seesaw of opinion, up or down, good or bad, like or dislike. 

Those chairs I did not take them home, but I did thank them for the lesson they taught, and that lesson I took with me free of charge.