coincidence or faith

Protected: The sound of breaking mirrors

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The sound of help losing my mind

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Chameleon (Margaret Berger album)

The readers who`ve followed me for a while, know the fatal attraction I have to music. I both listen to and create my own songs, and the very best of them awaken a whirlwind of goosebumps and life stretching towards the sky. Music has been close to my heart since I could open my mouth and let my sounds free. Sometimes they`d got blocked by an impressive number of sturdy walls, but some tones always found their way through the cracks. Today I`ve collected several sounds that crept the long way to my heart, and for that, they deserve extra attention. Not many manage to get that far, and when they do, I never forget them.

It was maybe not strange that the song I`m talking about came from two of the artists I`ve followed since I heard their sound escaping from their

‪Norsk (bokmål)‬: Kurt Nilsen i Ibsenhuset, ...
One of the few who made a career from Idol. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

prisons. When I recognize it, that quality that reminds me of hidden gems, I immediately turned my ears towards it, so I won`t miss another sound onwards. Both artists; Margaret Berger (she was in Eurovision 2013 and in Norwegian Idol many years ago) and Gabrielle (Norwegian Idol) hooked me immediately. Margaret`s first audition was raw, true and showed her hidden talent. She didn`t yet know how great she was, but somehow I felt it. I crossed my fingers and hoped she would win. She didn`t win. She got the second place, which didn`t matter at all, since she already was a winner and probably needed to go her own way anyway. She was the first Norwegian winner (after the winner of world Idol, Kurt Nilsen) that really made it. I followed my shining star proudly, and went to the two concerts she had in Bergen. I even got her autograph, not caring I`d had to stand in line with a bunch of 13-year olds. I still cheer internally when I hear her name, and my respect for her is if possible even greater than it was for the shy girl who just wanted to sing. This respect has now grown to something that equals love, as far as something can when one doesn`t know the person, when I discovered she had teamed up with my other favorite Idol-artist.She must have seen the qualities I saw, or maybe Gabrielle saw hers? No matter how and why, they have in fact come together and made a song. It is a cover, and I hadn`t heard the original before. What my ears and soul do recognize, is this: Magic does happen. All the time.

My heart flutters. Another treasure to my growing chest of wonders. 
Margaret Berger & Gabrielle – Help Me Lose My Mind (oikotimes.com)

Margaret Berger: ‘Human Race’ (heartbeatmusik.wordpress.com)

Eurovision 2013 to be Re-broadcast in China (eurovisiontimes.wordpress.com)

NORWAY : Full Video of Margaret Berger’s Eurovision Follow Up Single (eurovisionireland.net)

Protected: The sound of the second violin

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Protected: The sound of bursting balloons.

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Protected: The sound of blossoming seeds

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The sound of falling shackles

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But I got chains and you got wings

Angels were never meant to fall And you were the loveliest of all If I thought God could fix this, I’d pray for your forgiveness

Natalia Kills

From the blog: Dating a psychopath

This link ( http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xu2udi_when-louis-theroux-met-jimmy-saville_news#.UWdq7qLqmzg) is a good documentary with Louis Theroux. In this video all the classic character traits of a charismatic sociopath can be seen.

The truth about Jimmy Saville did not come out fully until after his death. He was a very celebrity in the UK, and operated behind his mask of charisma for decades. This is a really good video. Unfortunately I can no longer find this on youtube. 

More about her

2012-08-10 17.11.06
Amadeus  He never returned the cat after he got him. I never got the chance to say goodbye.

It`s actually quite sad that psychopaths/sociopaths never (?) can experience the range of feelings we have. People with shackles who are freed, can truly live in every way. Many psychopaths have no meanings in their lives, because without feelings, everything is flat. Its sad really, but they have to help themselves. It can`t be family or their lover. The people closest to us, don`t have the necessary distance that people must have to handle it. Am I a sociopath? (part 1) from the blogger in: 

Sociopath World

A reader of the blog to the sociopath, asks about how it is to be a sociopath. Here follows the answer:

Hello. I think I might be a sociopath, but I’m not sure. I don’t have a conscience per se, it’s more like a logical guide for what is right and wrong. Nothing turns my stomach, no type of immoral behavior enrages me unless I’m on the receiving end. All of my responses, even my “emotional” responses, are calculated and performed. I know I’m not the smartest person on the planet–VERY WELL, but I feel it. As far as my heart and soul are concerned, there is nobody smarter on this planet, even though the very mind in question knows that’s not the case. I use people when I can, so long as it doesn’t hurt them in the process. I’m not sure if that’s because I don’t want to hurt people or because I’d like to believe I’m not manipulative. Generally speaking, I don’t lie about anything except for my feelings. But I don’t go out of my way to hurt people. I actually go out of my way NOT to hurt people. Pretty much my entire life IS an act, and I don’t really know who I am… but I’m definitely not normal, nor do I fit all of the negative aspects of the sociopath stereotype. What does this sound like to you? I’m asking because as much as I’m able to make sense of the world around me, I cannot for the life of me make sense of myself. That is the one thing that my mind can’t penetrate. I can state facts about what I do, what I don’t do, my habits and tendencies, etc, but trying to form an opinion about myself is like walking through a minefield of self-deception and convenient stray thoughts.

Little princess in the slum

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Sometimes, my life has been like living in the slum. I`ve taken baths in muddy thoughts, surrounded myself with filth and made acquaintance with infectious rats gnawing at what they found. 

At times I embraced this way of life, thinking I had no choice. I invited tornado’s into our rooms, destroying the little we had left.  Sometimes I didn`t even try to wash myself since normal hygiene took too much energy. At other times, though, I desperately tried to protest and do something about our situation. I tried little things, like tidying inside, walking miles for clean water or rebelled against dirty toilets filled with reminders of how bad it can get. I`ve felt strong, capable and optimistic, 

English: Slum Kibera in Nairobi, Kenya.

until I felt the draft of air when someone shut my personal door to Narnia . I must admit I even slammed it shut myself, in moment of bitter resentment. 

The emotional moments when I could see freedom shining behind that threshold, I often met with my personal Slumdog God of Guilt. He was a stern-looking fellow, who liked to point out the obvious:”I did not deserve that freedom. Could I not see that?” He told me to stay in the slum and to not dream of a better life. How could I continue over the threshold when many poor would be left behind? How could I leave when others were dying, starving and dirty? Shouldn`t I stay there to protect them? I discussed this thoroughly with my friend Shame, who worshipped got Guilt as much as me.

Sometimes, coincidences happen. I was walking through my muddy environment in feverish hunger. My inner GPS broke down, and let me to unknown territory. When my head cleared enough to register my surroundings, I discovered the most beautiful lake I´ve ever seen. Sitting solemnly on a rock, was a calm and serene man. He turned his head and looked at me with the most talkative eyes I´ve ever said. He stretched out his hand while telling me his name:  The God of Compassion. The meeting changed my life. He started to follow me everywhere, no matter what I thought about it. He came into my tent, sat down with me and our bugs, put clean sheets on my soiled bed, and gave me  warm cups of energy. He told me that thinking about my needs, was also thinking about others. That by turning the energy-switch from 0 to 10 too fast, my ability to help went up in flames. He also said that by punishing myself, by hating and feeling bad for all I did not do, I only made it worse. 

The little girl in the slum, God Guilt and my friend Worry were sceptic to the constant presence of him everywhere we went. Our whole lives we were told that Worry and Hard work was the only way to cope. They worshipped Shame and Guilt, and would probably have built a statue of pride for them if they would have time between the constant tasks of worrying about the state of our food ration, our deadly diseases or what we could do to prevent it from killing us kill us. God Guilt always reminded us of the work left, and when the little princess tried to sit down after scrubbing our plates and souls,  God Guilt and Shame came with their whips. 

love it

God Compassion kept arriving at the little princess`s tent. He let his caramel-flavored words drizzle over 

them and promised that nothing would happen if we started to relax more, or think about ourselves. His deep, soothing voice said we were not egoists, and slowly, we started to listen. His words were so sweet, like mint chocolate in our mouths. We could not resist. 

To our surprise, this did not lead to punishment. By having less time for God Worry, who some still followed in thick and thin, I saw that the others must have misunderstood what God Worry meant. Maybe the transmission of God´s signal get`s warbled in the slum? 

Years later, when I fought my way out of the slum by doing what felt right (no matter if my still present friends Shame and Guilt told me I must think more of others),  I met more people who also knew about God Compassion, and were worshipping him instead of Worry, Shame and Doubt. This did not lead to destruction or bad things for others around them. It seemed that the more they followed G. Compassion`s way of life, the more they did for others AND for themselves. 

Time and again I`ve tried to show others the truth of God Compassion, but some are always too busy to listen. They have to work, think about what might go wrong, even after everything is better and they have more of what they need. They insist on telling you what`s really important: “My car made this funny sound, so what if it breaks down tomorrow?“. Panic often fill their eyes, fogging out the beauty in plain view. When I was younger, I felt like that, too, but my God of Compassion let me rest. With his soft smile and words he told me: “Everything will be okay. If you just enjoy things now, I`m sure you`ll be able to do whatever you must when the time comes” 

Today, I feel like the luckiest person on earth. I feel like a princess, even if I grew up in the slum. And do you know what the best thing is? I`ve met so many fellow slum dogs at my journey. They were also princesses, kings or little queens, but didn`t always realize it, either. All of them were kind, warm and wonderful if you let them show it, no matter how dirty they were before

 

More:

In the Background: Life in a Delhi Slum (thirdeyemom.com)

What is Faith without Action? (now1040.com)