June 2016 archive
Sometimes I just long for beautiful places. For beauty in and of itself. At times I glimpse it, – when I open and my eyes and look around me. When I sit in silence and listen to the trees.
Yesterday I stood outside my apartment, with my cup of rose tea and gazed into the lake, seeing two white water lilies floating on its surface. I drank them in, along with my tea, and the dazzling light spreading across the lake and forest as the sun inched closer to the mountains.
Sometimes life feels a little painful. It’s hard to be myself and nothing more. It’s hard to not run away from what I am and to walk with the Goddess, as I’ve asked her to help me do.
I guess I want to be in life and not hide from it any longer. The more I’m in it the more things I also notice, and appreciate. I hope that makes sense.
And I think that when I gather beauty during the day, I also bring it into my dreams. Today, in the early morning I found myself next to snow-touched mountains and a grey ocean. It felt wild, ice cold, though there was no real sense of temperature. It was a dream, and I felt free.
I’ve been reading this lately, longing even more for my Mother. The Goddess. Today I listened to this talk and felt drawn to what he says about beauty growing inside of you.
The nights have become pale, ghost-like. I lay awake listening to the rustle of leaves, to tiny bells traveling from the other side of the lake, to the hoots of an owl. I know a low mist fills the mountains and forest outside, and nothing really sleeps anymore. There is always a light in the sky.
I wanted to write about the summer solstice when it was happening. But I felt too tired to. I felt a bit like this poem.
But I did watch the sunrise with my husband, and then listened to the rain coming down in the late morning and the rest of the day. My husband took some time off work and we spent a few slow days together. On my birthday (June 23) we went to the city to eat at a restaurant, and pick up some things from the health food shop. We wanted to go for a walk, but it was raining then too, and we could hear it drumming on the roof inside of the shop. The lady behind the counter smiled and wished us a happy St. John’s evening, which is traditionally celebrated here with bonfires.
Yesterday we went for a short hike in the mountains, and I thought of trolls and other mystical creatures as we walked down a wet grassy slope, back to our car. There was mist rising from the mountains, and the sky hung dark and low above them.
In a way, I’m saying goodbye to this place because we’re moving. We’re going to Slovenia, to the Alps, and the romantic, green beauty there. We’re leaving at the end of August…
And my book is still free, for a little while longer. You can get it here.
Artist – Zula Kenyon
This morning I felt like a cat licking sunlight. I sat in a sliver of light that stretches to the top of the stairs outside my apartment. I can sit there, feeling nice and warm until the sun rises higher and disappears above my rooftop.
I felt I held a prayer inside of me as I walked in the mountains yesterday. A wish I hoped would come true. Sometimes I feel I’m still waiting for myself, for some lost part of myself to come back to me. I want to feel whole, complete and safe. I think I’m still healing and learning to receive, and I often forget that, trying to push something that can’t be pushed and be forced. All the” shoulds” and “have-toes”in my mind actually slows down the process.
Perhaps the mountain remained me of all this. On Sundays, I ask my husband if he wants to drive up up, to the mountain, because it seems it’s the only place I really long for right now. I’m not sure I ever felt like this before. We had a cabin we would visit frequently during my childhood, among rocks and heather, next to a cold, dark lake, but perhaps I took it for granted, the beauty and silence up there.
The mountain feels untouched, closer to the sky. I always think starlight when I go there, even though we walk in the brightness of day. And yesterday was supposed to be a short trip because I said I was feeling tired. But then that beauty of wind and trees, and little streams took hold of me and we walked for three hours.
There were tiny white flowers among the heather. And fields filled with cottongrass (I hope that’s the right name for it). I touched them and remember moments from my childhood when my sister and I would gather those white wool like buds, and put them in a vase in our cabin. My mom said people used to fill their pillows with them.
I stopped sometimes, turned to see the sun through birch trees, to see it glittering in a lake as our path curled around it. We stopped there, stepped out onto a flat rock and filled our water bottles. I sat down, cross-legged, gazing at the mountains where the sun was about to set, very slowly. He takes his time crossing the sky these days.
The light had turned a golden orange when we found our way back to the main road. The fields were drenched in gold. At night I remembered what I had seen and reflected on it a bit, tucking it all away like pearls inside of me.
I told my husband on our walk, as I smiled into the sun, that I felt I had to drink in summer now now, because you never know when winter will return. This might be a very Norwegian mentality ingrained in me. In California, it was the opposite, where I enjoyed winter and spring, which were green and alive, instead of summer where the heat scorched the hills, and everything felt yellow and worn out.
I hope you had a beautiful weekend, and that a beautiful week is ahead of you.
Shared a few pictures on Instagram.
Only a week now until the summer (or winter) solstice.
Albert Lynch (1861)
I’ve observed simple things today. The eagle going round and round above the treetops, crying out. The light and shadows dancing over my keyboard as I write this. An overgrown forest path and a tiny pond among white birch trees almost dried up in the summer sun. During the winter and fall months, when it’s larger, deeper, it makes me think of stories I’ve heard, dark stories of things living in the water, and something glittering like gold.
But right now everything is bright and shining. I still blink my eyes sometimes in wonder at the transformation outside my window. It seems almost like a dream.
Mr owl has been singing outside my window when I go to bed. I fall asleep listening to his hoots. He reminds me that it is truly night time, even though the sky is pale and white, and there is almost no darkness to speak of. The summer solstice is drawing close. Will you celebrate it?
I wanted to share a video that I fell in love with. It has subtitles.
Also, I’m working to put my book From Darkness to Light into paperback. Hope to have that happen soon.
I sat on that little hill overlooking the lake, with my feet bare in the dirt, my skirt trailing over my legs. The sun was just about to set behind the mountains, and the last of its light was in the water below me. The mountains were a mixture of blue and green in the distance. I just sat in silence, looking around me, drawing on some unseen energy to fill up a well inside of me, that felt pretty dried up and empty.
The world was full of a constant music, wind and water and birds.
And the more I looked, the more I noticed things. Tiny black ants crawling down a moss covered tree, the rustle of wind through leaves, a yellow bird that somehow didn’t see me, landing on a branch only a few steps away.
The evening makes me think deeper thoughts. I realize that I really do want to write about the Goddess, but I’m not sure what to say, and I’m also a little afraid. Afraid people might not like it, and that I’ll leave my heart too open and volnurable.
Sometimes I read Christian devotional books, not because I consider myself Christian, but because I would like to be closer to God, and also the Goddess. I would like to feel love, and give up my worries to something much greater than myself. I would like to be guided and carry light inside of me.
Does anyone else yearn for these things?
As I write my novel, I sometimes have to stop and pray, because the words flow much better when I give up control a little bit, and when I ask for help. It feels like I could give my whole life over to her, but it’s harder than I’d imagined it to be. But it feels like everything would be taken care of if I just let go and trusted her.
I’m writing a story about a priestess because I’d like to live a life like that. In total devotion to her. There is something very beautiful in it, and it also feels very familiar to me, like an old memory.
I feel we all have different things that inspire us, that we dream of. I would love to know your thoughts.
Alfred Glendening Jr. (1861 – 1907)
I gathered little moments today, to keep with me. I went for a walk in the sun, in the warm weather and swung down by the lake. I sat at the very edge of the rocks, dipping my toes into the water, watching tiny waves ripple out before me. For a long moment, all I saw was blue and glittering drops of light, that made me almost tremble on the inside, as though it was too much beauty to take in all at once.
I felt too tired to do anything but to fill my vision with water, sometimes turning my head to see the wind in the trees.
The world around me is transformed. It’s hard to believe that winter was ever here. Everything is green and covered in wildflowers.
I also found a bush of lilacs that I hadn’t noticed before. I’m not sure there is a more feminine scent than the scent of lilacs. They’re purple, and smell purple too, very heavy and perfumy. I bury my nose in them and remember a day in my childhood when I picked a small bouquet of them for our living room. I remember feeling very happy and light, as though I carried summer inside of me.
The other day we went to the mountain again. I’m not sure I’ve fully noticed before, that powerful feeling that comes over me when I’m there. Maybe it’s the silence, the cold air, the lack of people. The mountain has a voice, a very powerful voice that makes me feel small and free.
We climbed up a narrow winding path, up up, until we came to a plateau full of sky and blue mountains in the distance. Two small lakes shone like silver below us. Now and then we walked through fields of delicate white flowers, like drops of snow.
Sometimes a bird would cry out, startled by our presence. One time, as we climbed back down to our car, a small brown bird rushed up from a tuft of grass. I stopped, hunched down and looked, finding a beautifully made nest of straw, and five tiny brown eggs. I showed them to my husband, smiling because my dad used to do the same for my sister and me on our way to our cabin in the mountains. I thought it was very magical, the way he knew how to find a nest, showing it to us in a very hushed, gentle way, warning us not to touch the eggs, or else the mother wouldn’t want them anymore.
Little things like this fill me up. I try to enjoy these long summer days. Night doesn’t seem to come anymore, at least not fully. Sometimes I wake up early by birds outside my window or a wasp finding its way into my bedroom.
I’ve been re-reading the Anne of Green Gables books, just because they have so much beauty in them, and makes me feel light hearted. What are you reading these days? Are you enjoying summer? Winter?
Also, I’ve been updating my Instagram again. Please follow me, if you want to 🙂