I‘m looking for the white star, inside, guiding me. A single strand of white light illuminating the path I need to walk. I see myself walking barefoot at night, through the forest, hands held to my heart, eyes to the sky, following the star.
The sun is on the lake, the water still as crystal, reflecting the colors of autumn. The sky is a beautiful baby blue, and I can’t help but feel that today is a gift, to drink in, to spend in the forest with my husband. There is a lightness, a warmth, even as the air grows colder.
The morning is so quiet. Not even the trees are moving, nor the grass; there doesn’t seem to be any wind at all. And the sun is slowly bathing the treetops in gold, and I just want to breathe in the beauty of it.
For a few days now I felt I had nothing to write. I tried to force it, and lacked faith that it would ever come back to me. Listen, the voice told me. And I sighed, tried to stop fretting, and leave the chocolate alone. And then the white star spoke to me, and I followed its thread. The words came, and I remembered to write from my core.
Early this morning I went for a walk under the stars. I could even see them reflected in the lake, like tiny pinpoints of light. I sat on the ground for a bit and loved how they glinted above and between the trees, a bit like flowers, white, made of light.
Yesterday i walked in the forest, under a clear blue sky, the trees full of color. I started to look for mushrooms, and becomes so obsessed with finding them, that I forgot to take in the beauty around me. I felt scattered, a little frustrated. When I finally managed to focus only on walking, breathing, looking, I came upon a nice, fat mushroom directly in my path, which I happily picked. Later as we turned to head back, I wondered if I could even leave mushroom picking up to the divine.
So I walked, trying to forget about looking for mushrooms, trying to center myself in my heart. On a mossy side path, I glimpsed something like gold. I moved closed and saw a small cluster of beautiful chanterelles. I hadn’t brought a basket or a bag, so I gathered them into my hat.
Then back on the main path, my husband pointed to more gold, even more mushrooms, that I earlier must have walked right passed without seeing. I pretty much filled my hat, feeling happy, thanking my Father and the earth.
The Autumn Equinox
I’m back inside now; the stars are gone, replaced with the blue-grey morning sky, and I can make out the trees, the mountains, the lake. Cars are driving by more frequently, and I feel the day starting.
Tomorrow is the Autumn Equinox, the darkness increasing, and I try to quiet myself, and face it without fear. To be silent and still, like a tree standing in whatever is meant to come; winter, rain, sun. I welcome it too, the beauty of it, the return of the stars at night (during summer in Norway, the sky is too bright to see them). And I love the glow of candles in the darkness.
I wish you a beautiful Autumn or Spring Equinox, wherever you may be in the world.
Love and light.
My thought be still
so I can hear the voice of the Heart
~ “Vigdis Garbarek”
Yesterday I behaved like an angry child, and did nothing useful. Today I was back to listening. Last night the voice spoke to me with love, even after I’d been so angry, and I realized I just wanted to be in the light.
I walked outside and looked at the stars for a long time.
There is a book of poems that I love, that I borrowed from a friend, that broke me open and whispered stories of my own life.
I contemplated buying it for myself, because I missed it, missed those words in my life; but I could not make myself to buy it. I knew I’d feel guilty spending the money on myself, as books are very expensive in Norway.
Today I was in the city and found the book at random, at a sale, for less than a tenth of the normal price.
It felt like a gift, a sign to honor what my heart yearns for. I’m still smiling as I write this. Thank you.
Artist ~ Vladimer Kireev
It feels like I’m walking in quiet meditation, listening, dreaming, feeling, connecting with the little girl within, that I pushed aside all those years ago. She has something to say, but she has lost her voice. So I’m waiting, holding the door open for her, seeing her fight back tears, asking her to finally release them.
As I look at the glittering waves, I feel a white rose inside of me, like a gentle white light, holding the space for me, letting me know there is more.
There is so much loveliness to this early autumn evening, just before the sun sets behind the mountains. Such sweet sadness in the turning of colors, green into yellow and red. I’m enjoying the warmth of the sun, wondering when I can again sit like this without a coat, without being cold, my bare feet on the ground, the wind in my hair.
I fear I won’t be able to drink it all in before its gone. And yet the thought seems pointless, and instead I try to relax into the moment, not fearing the passing of time, nor the coming of darkness, but to have faith that all is taken care of, and is as it should be. I’m held and protected, and guided. Loved. All I need to do is to be still and listen.
Sharing a song that I love very much, a song without words. Close your eyes and just feel.
In July my husband and I went on a road trip, for three weeks, in western and northern Norway. It was thrilling, awe inspiring, challenging and exhausting. As often as I could I spent a few hours at a local cafe, with my kindle and journal, taking in the wonderful moment of being in a new place (with chocolate cake and chai latte at my side). Being in a cafe often inspired me to write, and I wanted to share those words with you in a series of posts called A Summer in Norway, 2014. We begin in Lofoten.
Ah Lofoten, the most magical and beautiful place I have ever been. I carry it in my heart, and it has changed me forever.
July 14, Lofoten, Norway
The water is so fresh here, straight from the tap. It tastes of wind and ice.
I can see the ocean glittering in the distance.
The ocean gap, calling me, endless, drowning out my own inner turmoil, and everything falls silent.
Just looking at the ocean, the mountains, little houses and wildflowers, I find myself entering a different state of being, like meditation. I look at people and can tell many feel the same. They’re silent, just looking, looking, looking.
To be in the strong magic of this place. Ancient, etched in nature. Light magic, as strong and ancient as the mountains themselves.
At a Lofoten Cafe
I’m in love with this cafe. The white tables, the dark wooden floors, the light coming in through the windows.
There is music playing; happy songs of summer.
I like that it’s a quite Monday afternoon, and I like watching the two women behind the counter, preparing food, smiling, talking, laughing.
I find myself looking for healing, soft colors and light. I’m so happy we found the time to sit here, in this cafe that I hardly can believe is real. Outside the mountains fill my view, tall and wild, – making me think of ice turned into stone.
Is it possible to hear the angels surrounding me? Is it possible to bring their healing into my life? I see them, white, glimmering in the distance, behind me. But the closest and most intimate angel, and the greatest, is my divine mother.
I recently picked up one of those books in old English, that I find difficult to read, where the author praises God.
Now I realize I more than anything want to write to praise the Goddess.
I write to be near her, and to hear her voice. Sometimes it feels like my hand glows, and tears fill my heart, and it feels like I’m channeling her through my pen.
Where are the books calling upon the Goddess? Praising her?
I wish to rest, knowing she’s holding me, always. Know I don’t have to hold on so tight, but can relax into joy, joy of the moment, of life;- like a child.
Looking for Healing
I want to bring healing to others, perhaps because I’m also looking for it myself, and little things can mean so much. Like yesterday, when we came across an old fashioned bakery, in the same old building its probably been in for the past 100 years. I remember the scent of sugar, of bread, and the heat from the fire, – I loved that place, and I loved the cinnamon bun I bought, the very last one (though I returned when they’d made more).
It just meant so much being there, eating that bun, closing my eyes to make the moment last. I was so tired, but that moment helped. The place itself helped, and also the white painted bench in the small garden, with roses, that I later sat down to look at the light, the flowers and people, – my bare feet on the grass.
Eating those cinnamon buns, I remembered that I want to live through my heart, and that I need moments of healing after a long night of darkness.
In another old shop I picked up a small bag of apple herbal tea, and a soap mad on the island of fairies. It was called “northern lights soap”, carrying the faint scent of rosemary, and something else that made me think of cold winter nights, and lights.
That was a healing soap, I could feel it the moment I touched it.
Little things like that that makes me feel like myself again, and helps me remember my heart.
The woman behind the counter is talking to someone. She seems happy. She is dressed in black and turquoise, her hair dark, her face alight with an easy smile.
I wonder if I could always be smiling like that. I feel i would have to know something to be able to do that, know in my heart for sure, that I’m safe, held, and that I can try and fail freely. Sometimes I let myself feel that, and it changes everything.
At home I have a picture hanging in my kitchen, of a woman, smiling softly, dreaming. She seems to know something, a secret in her heart, she seems to be leaning into love. Resting in love.
I like the feeling of the sun, and the change it brings to people, the easy smiles and relaxed way of moving. The sun doesn’t set at all this time of year, not here, and it was light all throughout the night. I wonder what its like here in the middle of winter, in the constant dark. I feel there would always be magic here, and at times the sky would be awake with the northern lights.
I don’t think you could live in nature like this, and not be changed. I’ve only been here two days, and I already feel different, moved, touched by the wild beauty around me. There is magic. Fairy magic maybe; something to do with lights. They’ve found paintings over 3000 years old in secret caves close to here, painting of people dancing. I hope to see them sometime, and I wonder if people have known about the magic of this place for a very long time.