December 2014 archive

Thank you for this year, 2014

Christmas angelThe last day of the year, and I managed to get up early, to be in quiet stillness, alone, just me and my divine mother. Listening.

I have my green tea and dark chocolate, and I gaze into the darkness of winter.

Coming Home

I’ve been away to a beautiful place in Greece, staying with friends, seeing the sun and blue sky, the vastness of the ocean and beauty of trees full of lemons and oranges. It’s amazing that such a place exists, where you can reach up and pick ripe fruit in the depth of winter. 

Coming back we were met with snow, glittering on frozen trees, and as my husband drove I kept gazing up at the sky, at the moon and stars, amazed by the many different kinds of beauty of different places. 

Remembering

The sky is brightening now, the world a deep blue. Coming back from sun and mild weather, I can appreciate the fairy like quality of snow, the pureness of a white ground and trees, everything quiet, the icy rain sounding like crystals falling as I walk in the forest, the evening darkening, the clouds rolling across the sky, across a bright yellow moon.

I remember one winter when still living in California, I visited Norway, this quiet place where my family lives, when there are no sounds except those of nature, and the snow was unusual deep and heavy, the trees all white and bending from the weight of it. The sky was dark and brilliant, full of stars, and as we walked I couldn’t understand why the others didn’t look up, didn’t marvel at that incredible beauty above us. Perhaps they had grown used to it, but coming from the city I couldn’t get enough of it. I breathed it all in, the air cold and crips, fresh, the stillness touching my skin and every day I went for long walks, feeling something starting to heal within me, slowly, slowly, through the touch of nature.

I eventually returned to California, which was always a shock to the system. Life was faster paced there, though I loved it as well; the sun, the warmth, the colors, the fragrant jasmine dripping over fences. It was the city that wore on me, and I prayed to be taken back to nature. I had never fully appreciated it growing up, not having known any other way of life than being surrounded by mountains, forest, the ocean within view. As a young girl I would spend hours outside after dark, gathering rocks for my stone collection, gazing up at the stars, meeting a hedgehog, and knowing that the warmth of home was only steps away.

Now I once again live in the countryside of Norway, and I’m not sure I can ever return to living in the city. I like to visit, to go to a cafe, get some shopping done, do some people watching, and then return to my trees, and mountains, and the quiet whispers of the wind.

New Years Eve

New Years Eve was always special to me, not quite as loved as Christmas, but still very much enjoyed with good food and anticipation for what would happen around midnight. When my sister and I were little we would get too tired to stay up past 9, and had to go to bed, knowing our parents would wake us up in time for the fireworks.

We stood outside on the verandah, in the cold and snow, watching the sky come alive with colors and noise, and we would call out saying good bye old year, good bye! And I thought I could see it smile and disappear beyond the mountains.

Wishing you the best for the new year

On my table there are white tulips. White for fresh beginnings, for purity, for the new year. 

I wish you the very best for the coming year. I wish you hope, light, joy and a knowing that you’re loved, that you’re never alone in facing whatever comes your way. 

What lessons have you learned this year? How was your holiday season? I would love to know. Blessed be. 

 

 

 

 

My Facebook Page

424px-William_A._Bouguereau_-_La_Frileuse_-_1879I’ve created a Facebook page for this site. It’s taken me a while to get around to this. I’m not sure why, but it brings up a touch of anxiety in me, and takes me out of my comfort zone to be fully on Facebook. Perhaps it’s letting myself be seen that scares me.

Anyway, I plan to update it regularly with whatever moves and inspires me, and share beauty wherever I find it. If it sounds good to you, and you like what you read here, please like and follow it. I would love to see you there!

https://www.facebook.com/littleforestflower

Silver Waters

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Artist – PJ Lynch

Today the ocean was all silver, and I sat looking at it for a long time, even though I felt cold.

The waves were gentle, and there were birds playing in the water, in that glittering light, and I felt sudden joy, as though that light was also in me.

Looking up I saw a flock of black birds flying through the air, cawing, one one them landing on the beach in front of me. I always think of magic when I see and hear crows, the dark season, light fading into night.

I read a bit on my kindle and looked back up at that world of silver, the sun in my eyes. The air felt biting against my skin, and I remembered the white frost that had greeted me in the morning. Winter had come for sure, though there was no snow, not yet.

I love the silence, the muted colors of this time of year. I even love the fading light, the deepening darkness, the approach of Christmas. This time of year it feels like the whole world is listening, dreaming, asleep.

Of Course it Hurts when Buds Burst

Lady of the lakeI’m always looking for new books, for words that will describe what is happening to me, for people who have gone through what I’m going through, who has already walked this road. This is a poem that a friend shared with me. 

Of Course It Hurts

Of course it hurts when buds burst.
Otherwise why would spring hesitate?
Why would all our fervent longing
be bound in the frozen bitter haze?
The bud was the casing all winter.
What is this new thing, which consumes and bursts?
Of course it hurts when buds burst,
pain for that which grows
  and for that which envelops.

Of course it is hard when drops fall.
Trembling with fear they hang heavy,
clammer on the branch, swell and slide -
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the deep pulling and calling,
yet sit there and just quiver -
hard to want to stay
  and to want to fall.

Then, at the point of agony and when all is beyond
help, the tree's buds burst as if in jubilation,
then, when fear no longer exists,
the branch's drops tumble in a shimmer,
forgetting that they were afraid of the new,
forgetting that they were fearful of the journey -
feeling for a second their greatest security,
    resting in the trust that creates the world.

Karin Boye