The sound of Finished work

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Earlier I always got a certain kind of feeling after an exam ended. I`d spent so many days reading, trying to grasp what everything meant, and then the day came, where the results of the work would be visible. In University you also got grades, and you knew youcompeted against all the others students in the room. Its hard to tell exactly how many times I`d hear that they must get an A, or at least a B, and how many people I´d seen around me in the reading halls, some of them sitting there with their books until evening knocked on the door. The last day before my exam I stayed at home, reading from when I got up, until I went to bed, no matter what else was going on around me. In Norway we have our national celebration at the 17th of May, and I think two celebrations was used for studying, since my exam was the day after. I remember taking a small trip out, in my baggy clothes, and feeling a bit unreal, since everyone else was in their finest clothes, while I just allowed myself some carefully chosen minutes outside before guilt brought me in again, to even more underlining of words, one more sentence, and one more detail that I just had to remember. 

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I`m bringing this up, because right now I´m feeling a bit like I did then. After all the reading and studying was finally over, I felt a mixture of relief and being a bit empty. I didn`t have to do anything that day, I could go home, visit somebody or even watch a movie, during DAYTIME! It felt good, but also a little wrong.

The last year has been special for me. Its been so many new experiences, meeting a lot of really nice people, but also saying goodbye to somebody I´d rather keep by my side. I`d been so busy, always a new plan that I had to follow through, always a new place I had to go, always chasing. And now I sit here with this funny, little feeling. Who did I do all this work for? What was the result? Would I have done it again? I´m not sure. 

When I was younger, maybe 8-9, I did things for their own sake. I started to write little stories, and even started on a book, based on an idea I suddenly got. I´ve actually finished one of my “books”, and me and my best friend tried to make a movie out of it (my initiative, I could be quite direImagect with what I wanted to do). I loved the process; Writing, thinking, blowing life to my characters, and I did it automatically. I also rememberber my mother buying a box of books, and I lived in them. I still remember how I could cry at the end of a book, because now I didn`t have the chance to see how it all went. I had to close the book and let them live on. 

Through my life I`ve always had small projects or Ideas that I tried to blow alive. It could be to make a small “club”, were we had to write “articles” for the membership paper (we were three members), it could be

a game I invented and everybody had to learn it, or it could be making up a song while my brother followed me on his guitar. 

The last year I started a facebook group called “Aktiviteter i Førde”. I did it on a whim, like I´ve done with most projects in my life. Since I`ve started working as a psychologist, I`dnotice how many of the patients said the same thing: I`m lonely, and there is no chance to meet new peop
le. Even people living in Førde for a while, said they rather go away in the weekends than stay in the city, because “nothing happened anyway”. One morning I woke up with this th

 

ought in my head, and I simply had to do it.

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Why not create a place that could be a platform to meet, to make things happen? Where people could say what they missed, and where it would actually be possible to make things happen? Then I started planning a group like that, and suddenly I used a lot of my free-time on it.  

This weekend was kind of my goodbye to that project. I did accomplish some of what I hoped initially, and I`ve gotten so much feedback on the value of it (“We need people like you, who wants to change things” “That`s pretty cool”, and “A wonderful initiative”). Still I can`t shake this feeling that I´m not sure if I´m satisfied. Was it worth it? Was it what I wanted? I`ve used so much of my free time, and met a couple of really nice people along the way, but in the end the things I arranged, didn`t quite got the effect I hoped for. I`m not even sure what I expected, but maybe that behind “What a great initiative” there would actually be more people checking what it was all about. Some people joined me and the others I had with me, but in the end, so many didn`t, and I`m wondering: Do people want to come together? Meet in new ways? Be social with new people? 

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I`m not even sure what I`m trying to say, other than I`ve finished a year were I got funds, arranged courses, dinners and meetings, and this weekend we had the last event; With a photo-course, stress-course and a cooking course, followed by a dinner and concert. The day was great, in the end, but during it I was running up and down, getting coffee, making sure everyone had what they needed and not before the clock was 20.30 could I sit down and breathe again. I`ve slept 5 hours the night till Sunday and also had a productive day, but at the end of the day I wasn`t quite sure what I`ve actually done with it.

I know this is a period where I have to rest, accept that I also need to slow down, and feel happy about doing it, and I will.

Soon.

The sound of whispering behind the veil

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Yesterday I was there, between the helpless feeling of nothingness and thin veil of reality. I tried to see behind it, tried to force a crystal ball to this place, so I could get a glimpse of what I’m still doing here, and why I bother. The bed I slept in was coverer in cold promises that I tried to forget, but who firmly covered me with its invisible film.

I returned to reality, neither happy or sad, just a neutral mood sprinkled with tiredness.

We will see the place I’ll have to go, in the end.

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The sound of London and Me

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Thee train is pulling me further and further away from all the Britishness I learned to love on the Asia-trip. I`ve just waved goodbye to Hannah, Gemma and my fantastic friend Matt.

The funny thing was that it didn’t feel like it was 5 months since we saw each other, it was like coming home; Strange considering it was my first time in London.
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Gemma just had her exam, and was a bit tired, but it was hard to notice, since nothing in the world can stop her from being just marvelous. She’s one of a kind, and it was lovely seeing her. Hannah was also full of life, that she spread all around her with vigor. We talked about all we could on the hours we had, and I couldn’t feel better.

One day later, and I`m sitting on the train to Gatwick, listening to stars by Nelly furtado, which makes me calm and happy. It’s so beautiful outside; The skyline colored pink, the grass blessed with thousands small snow crystals. I’ve had my tea, warming me to the core with blissful contentment. I feel completely free and ready for whatever my destiny will bring.

Even if I didn’t get much sleep last night either, it seems like my body has adjusted to it, so that I don’t feel the tiredness. Everything was completely worth it. Life should be like this, doing what you feel without regretting anything. Seeing Gemma and Hannah was fantastic, like I hoped for.

We ate in Chinatown and then went for the most amazing unhealthy sin: Ice cream at haegens. I’ve also had a good day before that, even if my luck for practical coincidences has left me for the time (which is completely okay, since maybe my loveometer is finally ready to warm up again, after being far to occupied with staying under freezing-point at any time)

Some days later, I’m sitting in a hotel in the capital city of Norway, in a different mood. I’m waiting for a friend I will hang out without this evening, and I`m a bit restless. I’ve overslept today, since I hadn`t turned on the sound on my iPhone, so suddenly the clock was 10.00 in the morning, and I came late for the course I’m attending. Honestly, wasn’t one of my top days, since I was ‘being a therapist’ in front of the group we were divided into, and frankly became too friendly with some of my nerves. I was unfocused and almost asked questions at random.

It’s not good when you want something so much, that you lose it exactly because of it; A never-ending theme it seems. Even worse, by one more crazy coincidence, I ended up in a group where my earlier therapist was. I so look up to her, and maybe wanted to show her that I developed since I went to her, but I don’t think I managed to do anything else than make myself miserable. It was so strange to see her again, in that setting. She knew I would be there, but I hadn’t checked the attending list before, so I was one big knot of confusion and surprise when I saw her.

We got the chance to talk a little, and I said where I work, and that I’m doing good. She said: I always knew you would make it, and that was so lovely to hear. A therapist means so much to the people who come to them, and being with her gave me such respect to what a person can accomplish in somebody’s else’s life, that I always wanted to give others the same, and I wanted her to see that I’ve learned that from her, exactly HOW much she meant, but just couldn’t.

I guess we all have experiences like that, and it’s not the end of the world, but I’m still thinking about it and must probably mull it over for a while.

Some days later, and I’m not thinking too much about it. The rest of my time in Oslo was brilliant, I met old friends and also said hello to new ones. Should actually been in Førde by know, but the plane is two hours late, so there won’t be many pieces of the day left when I return. Tomorrow it’s back to work, and that will be okay. Always a little anticipation before I check who I will talk with that day. I hope that they managed fine the week I was away, and that there hasn`t been a crisis for any of them.

Hope my readers had a good weekend ?

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The Water Bearer

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The Water Bearer.

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. 

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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)

The sound of forgotten wickedness

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I`m sitting in the office, five minutes before the next client arrives this friday. I can hear the clock ticking away its message to me. I`m a bit tired, since I woke up a bit before 5 this night, reminded of a dream that keeps repeating itself. Its stuck, like my thoughts, and I badly want to push them, make them move, make them go away.

I read from a blog the other day, that problems will be there until their solved, but this one can`t be. Sometimes acceptance must be reached, and I know I`m closing in on it, since the fighting has gotten more intense, but not with the same attitude. I know calling will not do, and that nothing will work to get him back, so basically it’s just to remind me that I am a person who never gives up, and maybe that’s also the message I want others to see, too. But I know, there is really no need, cause I show it far too much, people get tired of my updates and perseverance, maybe they feel the vain and don`t like the feeling it awakens.<img src="https://mirrorgirlblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/cozy.jpg?w=215" alt="cozy" width="215" height="300"

I`ve just come back from a little walk. My head is loaded with tiredness from unsuccessful sleep, and I need to expose it to the cold clarity resting in the air outside, just enough to feel thankful for the warmth, when I was back inside. I then went to our reception, where both the secretaries were busying themselves with essential friday work. Another co-worker was there, in a striped, colorful jumper, also an essential reminder of the roots

class=”alignnone size-medium wp-image-744″ />weekend coming. I just have one more conversation today, before I grab the keys to my faithful little car, and start my travelling. I`m going away for a week. No more thinking about everything I`ve lost (even our cat is now in the custody of E.`s parents), but focusing on new things. They happen all the time, its just noticing it so much that the old things is buried under them, new networks forming in my tired mind, one more path in the land of the unknown.

Change is the Prelude to Growth

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Change is the Prelude to Growth.

You got to believe in new beginnings

The sound of protection

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“Two monks were washing their bowls in the river when they noticed a scorpion that was drowning. One monk immediately scooped it up and set it upon the bank. In the process he was stung. He went back to washing his bowl and again the scorpion fell in. The monk saved the scorpion and was again stung. The other monk asked him, “Friend, why do you continue to save the scorpion when you know its nature is to sting?”
“Because,” the monk replied, “to save it is my nature.”

Some people ask me: why don’t you forget ? Why do you reach out? Why don’t you move on? Maybe I could say the same: it’s in my nature, to never leave people I really loved

20130106-133805.jpg I sat at home yesterday, feeling the silence, letting it caress my toes and giving my thoughts room to roam. Funny how your face keeps resurfacing then, how I can hear your words in my head and can feel the warmth I had for you. I’m free, I can do what I want, but like Sinead o’connors sings: nothing compares to you. You made me laugh, you made me think and you made me want to change. When I did, you felt safe enough to say goodbye, because without building my walls you didn’t dear leave me, in case it cracked again.

I see your face. It has a half-smile on, that you put on in compassion. You really didn’t want to hurt me, but you had to, also for your own sake. I’m thankful for the bricks you gave me time to build, and I hope this new version of me will reach somebody ready to hold it. You wrote to me: one thing you look up to, is my ability to fight for whom I love, and I know you mean it. It just wasn’t for you, and I respect that.

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If everyone did just one good thing for others everyday, how far could we reach?

theo's world

Head over to the Animal Rescue Site and click the button daily to help sponsor food and care for rescue pets!

It’s FREE and supports an amazing cause.

Thanks to Deborah and her great dog blog, Dog Leader Mysteries for sharing this with me.

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