Swedish Butterfly

My Whole Life

2012-01-23T14:08:00.000-08:00

I have a God jar. It’s something I learned from Julia Cameron, the great writer of The artist's way and Walking in this world. You get a jar, preferably with a lid. Then you write down your smallest, biggest, deepest prayer or wish and you put it in the God jar. You literally put your troubles, longings or pain into Divine hands. I find it helps me to make visible what I’m carrying around and then very physically putting it into a baking oven of Light.

I have put many things into my God jar over the past year. Things concerning my self, my mother, other people, tiny little insignificant things (if such a notion exists) and deep heart secrets.

I am struggling, really struggling, with a study I have to follow in order to keep my job. I feel nothing for this study and sometimes feel physically ill about having to put so much of my precious time into things that do not feed my heart the least. Since I have already formulated my pain about this in a number of ways, today I simply wrote ”My whole life” on a note and put in the jar.

When I saw the note before I folded it and put it in for some Divine baking, I couldn’t help but thinking that this, right here, is actually exactly what it is about. My whole life. To be whole. To be one. To not try to stretch and do things that feel like I’m letting myself down, in order to keep this job. To be whole as opposed to being torn. Not divided. Nor split in two. Whole.

It is not an easy choice. I like many aspects of being a teacher. I would like to continue being one for another number of years. It is clear however, that I don’t feel willing, from within, to invest 4 years of constantly hanging with my nose in a book or in front of the computer, to keep this great job.

Slowly but surely a decision is taking shape though. I have done it before, I will have to do it again. Be brave. Move on. Stay friends with myself.

I have to give it some time. In the jar.

Love,

Seek the Sweetness

2012-01-09T13:38:00.000-08:00

A girl becomes a young woman. A young woman comes into her juice, grows into her own power. Becomes older.

So many layers have been peeled off I felt like I moved from 2011 into 2012 with only my heart intact, glowing, beating calmly and confidently. But the calm beating of my heart is covered in a thick coat of sadness.

I am fighting to stay close to that flickering flame within me. To not bend my head and become bitter. Not stop dreaming or stop believing in the innate goodness of life and people. But to breathe through it all. To be brave enough to relax and invite God to the moment. Any moment. Especially the difficult ones.

There is no way to describe what it feels like to see a beloved mother lose the things she loves the most - her freedom, her strength, her independence. Your heart is ground into gravel and sand. Your mouth keeps saying familiar words but nothing makes sense anymore. You don't know how many golden threads of your mother's love that are physically braided into your DNA, until she is sitting in front of you, unable to say what she wants to say. Every thread starts aching.

Maybe it is because of this, gravel and sand, that the humming bird keeps coming to me at the moment. In my dreams.

It brings joy. And it is beautiful. Fragile. It is a messengers between worlds, reminding us of crystal-like wonders to be found and experienced in life. It seeks the sweetness of wildflower nectar. Again and again.

This is my intention. My vow to myself in this time of transition. To seek the sweetness of life. To actively look for the sweet spots. Especially of the wild flowers. The ones that cannot be bought. Only experienced.

Love,
C

Himmelens Honung

2011-01-11T01:50:00.000-08:00

Kära Gud,

Ett brev till dig på min 39-årsdag. Jag vill ta tillfället i akt och tacka för mitt fruktbara liv. Inte bara för att jag fått så många år. Utan för att jag har fått bli medveten – väckt av vänliga änglar med vassa naglar och då och då en snärt med mattpiskaren. För att vakna till sanningen: att den här dagdrömmen vi kallar liv varken är evig eller självklar.

Jag vill särskilt tacka för ett antal favoritskapelser denna festliga dag.

Citroner! Så vackra, perfekta. Himmelska. Goda. Upplyftande. Jag vill gärna ta med mig ett citronträd när jag reser hem till dig igen. Plantera i min trädgård.

Snö som knarrar. Som ett kallt, gräddigt täcke som jag får lust att äta upp.

Havssalt. Diamanter tillgängliga för oss alla. Gnisslar och skrapar i mina händer. Läkande, renande. En favorit.

Örter…! Järnaktig, djärv basilika. Mjuk, drömmande timjan. Rivig och beskyddande rosmarin. Förförisk bergamott.

Cirkeln är sluten, älskade låga i alltings mitt.

Tacka gör jag med lånade ord av Edith Södergran:

Strömmen igenom oss: eviga vindar,

Himmelens honung, alltets välsignelse!

Herbal Wisdom

2010-11-19T05:53:00.000-08:00

So many things have happened since my last post! I finally moved to my own place, I found love, or it found me, I started my practice in a beautiful office building in Haarlem...and then there is my brave mum. Her journey together with us is changing us all forever.

But since I don't know how to put all the amazing as well as hard things that are going on in my life into words at the moment, (saving up for a Pulitzer I guess when I'm seventy...) I turn to the one thing that always bring structure and sanity to my life: fresh herbs and cooking. Preferably in a combination.

I have been floored by a stomach flu the last days and therefore dived into the healing quality of this baby: Fennel!

Fennel is a vegetable, herb and spice, all in one. I've loved cooking it since an acquaintance showed me how to cook it the Italian way, gratinated with olive oil, garlic and mozzarella.

A few days ago I must have bought the fennel herbal tea based on intuition or something, because one day later the stomach flu was a fact. I did some research this morning after having regained some strength and I simply have to share some of the miracle workings of this fantastic veggie.

I already knew that it is often used as a digestion, helpful against nausea and cramps. What I didn't know is that fennel also contains phytoestrogens, which balance the female hormone levels. It is used for treating PMS and menopausal symptoms and also increases a mother's milk supply.

Fennel has the ability to prevent or relieve muscle spasms. It is also hepatic, which means that it has the ability to detoxify and heal the liver.

As if all of these healing properties weren't enough, it is not only anti-inflammatory but also anti-microbial, taking out different bacterias as well as various fungi and yeasts.*

Now, if you don't like cooking, you could always buy the capsules...but boy, you would be missing out on delicious discoveries. For example, you could enjoy it

Baked: Parboil slices, put in a dish with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and 3-4 whole garlic cloves. Cover with grated Parmesan, bake for 15 minutes in a hot oven. (You could also add tomatoes cut in half, they go great with fennel.)

Braised: Parboil the whole bulb for 10 minutes. Cut into thick slices (about 3-4 per bulb lengthways). Brown in butter and whole garlic cloves until the garlic takes a little colour. Add a little water, cover and slowly braise, turning a few times until done - about 40 minutes. Keep adding small amounts of water to keep it from burning. The fennel should be lightly brown - allow the liquid to cook down to a little sauce toward the end of cooking time.*

Sautéed: Parboil first, then lightly sautée in olive oil, season with fresh ground black pepper and sea salt. Nice with roasted meat.

Don't you just love the things that are delicious and good for your health..?

Love,
C

* http://www.epicureantable.com/ffarticles/fennel.htm

*http://www.vortexhealth.net/fennel.html

Sunday Morning Snapshot

2010-06-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

Laughing dogs

Waving daisies

Splashing water

An embrace of sun and heat

And through it all

A beating pulse

Carrying me

If I let it.

Älskade mamsing

2010-05-05T13:39:00.000-07:00

I alla möjliga återspeglingar

Hur man gråter med andra
När känslorna svämmar över
Fixar och donar med god mat
För att göra mysigt
Driver sig själv stenhårt
För att göra klart
Se resultat
Stryka från listan

Förlåtande
Men de svidande sveken
Väl placerade i minnesbanken
För att se till att de inte händer igen

Och vänlig tills det att någon kommer för nära barnen
Då fräser vi till och visar klorna
Både du och jag mamma

Oros-elvan mellan ögonbrynen har vi båda
Den får näring av för mycket tänk
Och rädsla

Du är lika hopplöst envis som jag
Och ensam på sätt och vis
För att du är mycket hårdare mot dig själv
Än mot andra

Sen är det ju rätt konstigt
Att du är så liten och smal
Svårt att tänka sig att jag bodde i dig
Jag som alltid varit lång och kurvig och liksom för mycket av allt

Men som kortet säger
Är vårt band levande och evigt
Heligt
Och varmt som jordens kärna.

Jag älskar dig med hela mitt hjärta.

Swedish Butterfly 2.0

2010-05-05T07:55:00.000-07:00

I seem to be out of words. Temporarily?

But I tumble and swutter right here.

Love,
C

The Love underneath, behind, around

2010-03-29T07:09:00.000-07:00

There is a Divine Greatness moving underneath your breathing.

A listening, loving presence, holding you in the silence. If you listen?

There is a God receiving your prayers
Sending them right through the hot core of the Earth
where on the other side of the globe
the exit wounds of your love-arrows
will touch someone with unexpected rapture
today

A God in a red ball on a grass field
wondering who will catch the hint
and the secret greeting

There is a God holding your children
even when you don't know where they are

Divinity in an autistic boy clinging to my hand
with a big smile

a God lifting up a shy girl
who takes off her head scarf at school for the first time
and then lits up with pride
when her classmates carefully compliment her hair

There is a God embracing a mother
who refuses to be defeated by pain and illness
but dances on
forever it seems
like a spinning star

There is a God

Photo: Jannie Regnerus

Surrender

2010-03-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

Right there. Just before that sacred place of surrender inside. A thorne. Well tucked away, hidden. But sharp and painful.

Secret disappointment. Like a tiny poisonous drop of bitterness hidden in there somewhere behind a smile.

The things that remain unborn. That never happened. And the things that did. Years invested in a learning process but also in a life that I might be about to leave.

What does it take to face each day with authentic freshness? Without placing myself on a mental timeline (with colourful minus- and plus signs in neon illustrating my path)?

What will it take to truly surrender?

I pray to stop resisting. To embrace life in its awful, glorious messiness.

I wrote years ago that God's constant question to me was "can you love this too?"

No, not yet. But I'll find a way. Water and wind will break down my resistance and there will be nothing but a yes remaining.

"Do you know what the music is saying?
'Come follow me and you will find the way.
Your mistakes can also lead you to the Truth.
When you ask, the answer will be given.' "

Rumi, "Whispers of the Beloved"

Love,

C

What kind of Queen?

2010-02-18T06:50:00.000-08:00

The fresh, rosy-cheeked, struggling teenage girl. Maturing into an empowered young woman.

I wrote a post for a Swedish website, Indrag, about a few of my students. Their process, their princess years. These youngster-years in which they are trying to figure out what kind of queen to become. How they're trying to find a sense of self underneath waves of hormonal and emotional hazzle.

They inspire me, but also mirror me. What kind of queen did I once dream of becoming? What kind of royal glow do I want to define for myself?

For years, starting already when I was 20, I wanted to be a queen of motherhood. It seemed to me, the greatest and most beautiful challenge of all. But life wanted differently.

Then I started growing as a person thanks to many creative queens, who would not be defined by conditional labels but soared way up there, painting, singing or writing a bridge between this world and un unborn one. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Marianne Fredriksson, Jill Scott, Julia Cameron, Caroline Myss and India Arie are a few of the ladies who challenged and redefined my world.

And now? Inspiration. A queen of inspiration breathes possibility. Soars. Believes in magic. Knows that the divine core of each of us, and this world, is untainted. Lives with the love for words and melodies.

Love. Words. Melodies.

Love.

Monday Morning Survival List

2010-02-08T07:13:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's one of those Mondays...so I figured I'll just share my survival list for today...

1. Konichiwa bitches by Robyn...on volume WayTooLoud makes the morning bustrip slightly less depressing and grey.

2. Invasion! by Jonas Hassen Khemiri. Funny. Genius.

3. My family, especially these favorite monkeys:

4. Dreams about a trip to Buenos Aires.

5. Picasso. Just because he was crazy and wonderful.

6. Pecan bread. (Cellulites need to eat too you know)

7. Edge of Desire with John Mayer. It's melancholic almost to Swedish levels.

That's it I guess. I survived. Hurray.

Love,

My Stupid Little Life

2010-01-28T13:40:00.000-08:00

You know that final scene of American Beauty? In which Lester Burnham, brilliantly played by Kevin Spacey, talks about what death is like. It's one of my favorite scenes ever.

Lester has just been killed by his confused neighbour, when he explains:

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world.

Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst.

And then I remember to relax. And stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me, like rain. And I can't feel anything but gratitude...for every single moment of my stupid little life.

You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry.

You will some day."

This is exactly how I feel today. Like I need to breathe and ask God to make my heart bigger, so I can just let everything flow through me, "like rain".

Beauty and pain, memories, possibilities, hopes, illusions, meetings and goodbyes...smiles given and received. Freckles and voices and melodies and kisses and cruelty and tenderness and rainbows and love.

Flowing through me. Like rain.

Gratitude Groove

2010-01-26T06:01:00.000-08:00

Inspiration!

Gorgeous, cold, sunny, crispy-clear winter day today. With extra time for a walk in the park inbetween classes and meetings. Yesss.

Watched an intervieuw with the young musician Kyteman on Dutch television yesterday. A wise spirit in a young body, someone who has grappled with the darkest shadows to the point of almost taking his own life. Only to eventually tune out to the mental monster and other people's expectations and tune into his own inner groove. And then celebrate the whole thing by creating an amazing music project.

He was inspiring in his commitment to living his own truth. And at the end of the interview he said he was really grateful that he grew up with the parents he grew up with. "Otherwise I would probably have been put on Ritalin for my ADHD, and that would have killed my creativity. "

This makes my human, cosmic sister, motherly, teacher-heart almost stop for a few seconds. I have talked about this before here on my blog. The parmaceutical rat-race. I promise myself and all kids diagnosed with ADHD to work harder at helping families find alternative ways to deal with it.

Jason Mraz also inspired yesterday, with his post on snoozing and it's symbolic (and very concrete) effects on your life. I'm a master snoozer and not interested in killing that darling, but he did make me get up one hour (!) earlier to finish this month's load of grading.

What else? It's time again for my yearly round of Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet! It doesn't get much more inspiring than that.

"Did my heart love til now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty til this night."

Love,

Old horses fall in love too

2010-01-21T01:13:00.001-08:00

Haïti. What can I say. Holland just raised 83 million euro during a grand television evening. I donate what I can and reaffirm my decision to face life's challenges with pride and dignity.

To be honest, I was whining yesterday. Went to bed like a sad little tulip, very much displeased with the shape and colour of the new challenges that presented themselves smack-on come 2010. I was in a "I'm tired of fighting"-mood and nothing seemed to help first. But then our benevolent universe answered my bu-huuing by making the big wooden board hanging above my bed (and given to me by my sweet sister) reading "Home is where the Heart is", fall down and hit me on the head. Well deserved. I got the message. Whining will get me absolutely nowhere.

I was still in a winter-grumpy, troubled mood when I bumped in to miss P this morning. Miss P. Remember her? She was struggling with just about everything last year. Miss P has now blossomed into a beautiful, tall girl with long blond hair and a secretive smile on her face. She is doing great. Her grades are good, her braces are coming off next week and - she told me with a radiant smile - her horse is in love!! Yes yes, her 19 year old mare Whoopy has fallen helplessly and irreversably in love with the 12 year younger, handsome stud Troy. (Come on, did you know that horses can fall in love...?)

"- That old tart!" miss P beamed with her metal-clad teeth. "- But I'm really happy for her." Turned out to be a bit of a problem though since Whoopy doesn't want to be in her stable anymore...she just wants to hang with Troy!

So I'm just thinking...if Whoopy can find love, when least expected (after facing nothing but, like, grass, for 19 years...) and at a distinguished age - so can I!

Watch out all you handsome Troys out there.

Beloved friends - live your dreams, honor your beauty.

Kiss,
C

Your Heart is an Eternal Fountain

2009-12-30T15:15:00.000-08:00

It seems so hard sometimes. And still I want to ask you to join me...in choosing your beliefs and thoughts with the same care you choose your company or brand of champagne this very last day of 2009.

Commit to hope. Tend to your corner of the garden. Wondrous solutions for anything and everything, will have to be intended, hoped for, prayed for, before they become manifest.

And please. Treasure yourself. If you are under attack, tempted to listen to inner voices or emotions breaking you down, summarizing your shortcomings in a destructive way - choose new thoughts. Choose differently.

Plug into this network of loving, cosmic co-workers. Sisters and brothers all around, committed to creating inspiring, nurturing art. To caring for each other. To seeing the dawn of a world where the well-being of humanity will be prioritized. As opposed to short-time profit.

I send warm hugs to friends and loved ones out there and I go out with a bang...letting the shouting voice of Hafiz take us into 2010 with a part of his poem "The Great Secret". Find your own eternal fountain! I am committed to mine.

Love, C

That Beloved has gone completely Wild - He has poured Himself into me!
I am Blissful and Drunk and Overflowing.
Dear world, Draw life from my Sweet Body,
Dear wayfaring souls, Come drink your fill of liquid rubies, For God has made my heart An Eternal Fountain!

Christmas Greetings from the Teenage Kingdom

2009-12-10T15:08:00.000-08:00

I just want to share the christmas buzz with all of you...these are some of the glorious princes and princesses I get to share my days with.

...and this is what the christmas decorated streets look like when I'm on my way home, moving through the city with Swedish pop in my ear phones.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Kisses & Hugs,

Miss Santa

Carving out the Space

2009-12-06T14:24:00.000-08:00

December darkness, moving through christmas decorated streets with Pelle Arhio-pop in my ear phones.

I'm exhausted and I know why. A choice has been made and the crossroad is coming closer faster than ever. My working hours are completely flooded by the theraputic, coaching aspects of the job. I attract them, simply by beeing me. But all the other tasks need to be done as well! I am starting to feel as if I'm trying to fit two jobs into one, energy-wise as well as time-wise. I am not quite sure how to do it but it's time for a change. Teach less, coach more...very simple. It's time to put those five years of training to be a Holistic Energy Therapist to use.

Marianne Williamsson twittered last week: "Fear creates cheap drama. Love creates great drama. Either way it goes, next year will be dramatic! Vote your choice with every thought."

"Prepare yourself however possible to be the most luminous container for love and greatness. Proactively carve out the space within you."

I believe that we can be proactive when we feel the need for a change from within. Or we can keep going and wait until change is forced on us by life itself.

But what do you do when you get bitten by the sadness bug? When you wake up one morning finding it hard to breathe? When you go from being involved in all the everyday things that give your life meaning, to waking up and feeling completely disconnected?

Well. I pray. Asking God to breathe through me, with me. I ask the angels to hold me until I can hold myself again.

Then one day, somewhere in between painting my toenails and roasting organic Roseval potatoes in the oven with sea salt and rosemary, the poison from the sadness bug's bite wears off. Gratitude again. Presence. Warm water from the tap running through my fingers. The smell of garlic from a marinade.

And now I'm back in the Cristmas buzz. Busy to carve out the space. Within me.

Love,
C

I'm back!

2009-11-14T08:13:00.000-08:00

Post-swine flu glory!

I have been at home for two weeks, of which I spent one, literally, in bed with the pandemic flu. I am enjoying the simple things again. Like breathing! Eating!

My dreams and thoughts have been feverish and totally spaced-out... hours have been spent:

1. Meditating on the Spanish word and Mexican national food dish "mole"

2. Trying to read Stieg Larsson but falling asleep all the time

3. Chatting with death metal fans on Myspace (a match made in heaven)

4. Fever-tripping on Walt Whitman and Pablo Neruda

5. Nominating Salma Hayek for a personal coolness award for having the guts to produce the film about Frida Kahlo and star in it (which is only like seven years ago but anyway)

6. Coming back to the meditation on mole and the fact that Frida Kahlo's husband had it for breakfast like all the time, cooked by his ex-wife, which drove miss Kahlo mad (eh...which is interesting because...?)

7. Trying to develop coughing techniques that won't wake up roommates (two blankets over your head and then coughing into the split between the two mattresses works quite well)

Now I'm getting into gear again, looking forward not only to going back to work but also getting into practicalities about finding a place of my own. Looking forward to changes.

It's funny, when unplugging from basically everything, there are a few things that feel vivid, near and important. Not many. In this world where so much help and change is needed everywhere, some people work their butts off to, for example, extinguish famine in the world. Or make sure that medication against HIV becomes available in Africa too. Or fight for human rights. Stop animal testing. Everyone who wants to seems to have their own field of interest and passion.

What makes me tick? My teenagers. The dialogue. Working on self-esteem, together. Their struggles, their courage, their confusion. I've had so many thoughts about this the last week I'm going to have to try to put some of them in writing...more about this in a later post.

Bottom line...I'm back.

Love,

Song of Myself

2009-11-02T12:32:00.000-08:00

"Summer". A painting by Vlaho Bukovac, shining like a newborn star on the wall of the Gemeente Museum in the Hague, where I am with my brother to see an exhibition about Picasso, Cezanne and Mondriaan Saturday. (...unfortunately not to be found online so I can't show it.) I had never heard of this croatian painter, but "Summer" jumps down from the wall, takes me by the hand and clicks right into place in that empty space somewhere underneath my breastbone.

I decide to make it the symbol of the phase I'm entering right now. Having made that longed- for scary decision. Having tried to learn things too eagerly, to the point of forgetting who I was. Finally giving myself permission to start over but this time on my terms.

In the painting a woman is sleeping or resting in the grass, upper half of her body naked, belly abundantly covered with flowers. The inside of her left hand is turned upwards, as if to receive whatever heaven will bring. One child is sleeping behind her and another running around naked. A dragonfly is circling around her, symbol of prosperity, good luck but also change. She is peaceful, she is fresh and in a state of surrender.

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?"

Good question asked by Mary Oliver in "The summer day".

And my answer is that I am going to sing my own song. Like another giant put it:

"Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

With the risk of all this sounding like confused blabber (possibly due to the fact that I'm running a high fever and am sicker than in ages) I guess all I want to say is this...

...welcome summer. I have opened a door and can feel a warm breeze reaching me from the well that should have been the source of all my decision-making to begin with.

Love,
C

Home is where the Heart is

2009-10-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

Today I bought flowers for myself, pink roses. It was just a spontaneous thing, I was at the grocery store, getting som fresh bread and orange juice and right next to the cash register were the cutest bouquets of small adorable roses. I put them on my desk and all the students wanted to know who gave me the flowers..?

I did. And I know why I feel like buying flowers. Yesterday I made the decision to change a few things in my life, starting with moving. Living on my own again. Which is a decision I have been struggling with for a while for different reasons. But now there is no way around what I feel anymore. It is simply time for me to start living my own life.

Here we go.

Tears and mud pies

2009-10-14T00:20:00.001-07:00

"Through his songs and his entire musical journey, Thåström is telling us that there's really nothing but confusion, even 'when you thought that everything had fallen into place'. I have decided to put my desk at the centre of that confusion."

Marcus Birro. Swedish writer and well-known blogger, writes this in an ode to one of his musical heroes, Joakim Thåström.

He definitely has. But he has a lantern on his desk and his uncompromising texts move through me like a well-wishing autumn storm, clearing my heart from dusty old grief.

Honest, searching, truly seeing persons make me feel grateful.

Henrika Thomasson, an internet friend I have yet to meet, does the same...shares a dark inner room with the rest of us and therefore makes the gravel weighing on her heart turn into gold. Tears shared turn into pearls, valuable to all of us.

Yesterday when I sat down in front of my home altar, I came to think of the story of the boy offering a mud pie to Buddha. This boy, Virtue Victorious, was playing in the dirt when the Buddha approached. He wanted to give him something and hurried to make a mud pie which he then placed in the begging bowl.

Our intentions make us who we are. (In the case of Virtue Victorious he was praised for his pure intentions and later reborn as King Ashoka.) It's never really what we give. It's how. It's the intention behind our giving that counts. Sharing our pain is a way of giving too.

I felt like that boy when I sat down in front of my altar yesterday. A boy offering a mud pie. I wanted to give something really beautiful...to whom, what?

To that sparkle of light at the core of my being. To the invisible friends guiding me in hard times. But also to the visible ones. The persons who either through warmth or confrontation helped me to grow and step out of my comfort zone. The warm winds that kissed my forehead and removed the lines carved into my skin. The arms that held me when I had forgotten who I was. That warm embrace, present all around.

So todays post is my mud pie, offered to anyone who want to share it with me.

Love, C

A sucker for lists

2009-10-08T02:06:00.001-07:00

I'm really tired today so I decided to make a pick-me-up-list of things that inspire me today:

1. The film Two Lovers starring amongst others an awesome Joaquin Phoenix. See it.

2. The burnt, almost black apple cake that a student had made for me in cooking class.

3. This quote by Lao Tse:

"Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profundity. Kindness in giving creates love."

4. The smell of autumn this sunny day.

5. Paintings by Anders Zorn.

6. Books by Marianne Fredriksson.

7. The painting above by Bo Jeune-Fille.

8. An old favourite: La double vie de Veronique. See it! If you've already seen it, see it again!

Love,
C.

Postcard from Dyslexia

2009-10-06T02:18:00.000-07:00

"Mourad you fat fag". I'm cleaning tables in my classroom, these are the kinds of contributions some of my students like to leave to posterity. Trying to clean myself into a crispier state of mind. It's not working.

Have the luxury of beginning work later on Tuesdays, so I went a few extra stops with the bus to get an extra large cappucino this grey, wet autumn morning. I had to change busses and the bus driver seemed to enjoy denying me access because of that very extra large cappucino. It was worth it though. Even though I had to enjoy it in rain and wind.

I'm preparing today. Tomorrow I start weekly sessions with a young adorable girl in my mentor class who is struggling with a severe form of dyslexia. I know that there is some sadness weighing on her shoulders, because of her struggling, her challenges and the label she is given. We are going to have to do something about that first before we get down to work. Then we can start looking for a way in which she can learn more efficiently. FF. Feelings First, that's my own experience when it comes to coaching, training and supporting young souls. It's always exciting to find the key to a student's wellbeing and growth! So I'm charging myself, focussing on inspiration and possibilities today so I can pass it on tomorrow.

I have a mentor class this year where 15 out of 16 students are dyslectic. Lots of opportunity to observe and support all these students who are in general so talented, creative and sharp and at the same time really challenged when it somes to processing the written word.

Walked through a cold rainy Haarlem this morning and found myself longing for strong arms to hold me for just a minute or so. Not being strong for a while. Being someone's loved one. Seems like a lifetime ago.

Love,

Angels and Bodhisattvas

2009-10-03T16:00:00.000-07:00

I was angry with God. Thursday night. So I flew over to Sweden - in my sleep - to talk to my dear friend M about it.

It must be confusing for some people that I often talk about God and buddhism in one sentence. I started practising buddhism seventeen years ago. It helped me connect to a divine spark inside of me, from the very first moment. Brought balance to my life. Tuned my senses. (Helped me heal a very bad eating disorder but that's another story.)

But...I've always been a searching soul and I was writing letters to God on a regular basis already at the age of five. So that divine spark, the state of being that buddhists call "buddha state", already had a name to me. "God", like all words planted as seeds in my heart when I was little, is much more connected to what I feel than words learned and experienced later in life.

I believe that only the faith that really lives inside of us, no matter what it looks like, has the power to change, to heal, to transform us.

When I moved to Holland eleven years ago, I started asking myself what my faith really looked like, in my heart. I was happy with the practising of Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. But I missed the word "love" in buddhist writings, that talked more about "jihi" - compassion. I also realized that protective forces looked like angels in my world. The "shoten zenjin" described in buddhist teachings were exactly that; benevolent protective energies in the Universe, possible to tap into through prayer and intention - but when I really needed help, I called them angels.

The words and images, keys and symbols of our belief, are the very pieces of the mosaic of our faith.

It took some time before I could I could find peace with the fact that I express my spirituality through a buddhist ritual, but I still write letters to God and thank angels for help and guidance. Now I see that divine spark within all religions and philosophies. In works of art. We choose the language that suits us best for connecting with and honoring the Source of Life. Unless your parents or your culture chooses for you.

We create disharmony when we translate that divine inspiration into a set of rules that we can "follow". Use to judge ourselves and others.

I think that this is a time in which - no matter with which religious colours you choose to create your mosaic - we are invited to become masters of our own heart and mind. To detach from the tyranny of ego. Live with respect for the divinity inside as well as outside of us. Recognize that one drop in every living being, that added up and interconnected make up an ocean of mindblowing human drama.

"So you sing your buddhist 'thing' every morning?" my butterfly friend mr Arhio asked not so long ago. Yes I do. I sing my buddhist thing, I write letters to God and I believe in angels.

That's the mosaic of my faith.

What's yours?

Perfect imperfection

2009-09-25T00:13:00.001-07:00

Thursday, end of a day that was perfectly imperfect. It made me aware how things get when I'm not "at home". When I'm not centered. Not really present, not thinking and acting based on that warm whisper within. But running. Living in my head, meeting deadlines and expectations all over the place. Which is fine...we all have days like this once in a while.

While I was still in a "not-really-breathing-and-doing-too-many-things-at-one-time-state-of-mind", I was walking the dogs and twittering at the same time. An unexpected tweet from Mr Eckhart Tolle, put me right back at my centre, in one instant. "Be aware of your breathing. Notice how this takes attention away from your thinking and creates space."

Why does his words cut right through all the noice of countless tweets, mails, text messages and facebook posts? Is it the power and depth of his intention that makes his words tune my breathing as if it was a neglected old piano? I've read all of his books and I think they are valuable tools for anyone who wants to live more and survive less. You can only read his book one spoonful at the time. His words and thoughts resonate with insight and need time to be savoured and experienced beyond the average mental consumption.

I finally finished this day with my daily buddhist ritual. The chanting became a golden-raspberry-rainbow-elixir that warmed me from inside and then beamed right back into an endless sky. Went to bed with some things learned, re-membered and a layer of stardust on my eyelashes.

Love Always,
Camilla

The lady in the Attic

2009-09-23T07:06:00.000-07:00

...that's me! Right up there, the three small windows above the madonna. My very own hen-house. I simply suggested to my own class that we should pimp the classroom a little, they came up with two hundred ideas and got right down to it:

Mr B got his own butterfly...

Too bad they only sort of remebered to put on these Picasso-jackets AFTER they had already gotten paint all over their (very expensive) jeans and UGG's. Well, well.

These are the butterfly-painters. Much to the disgust of the boys. Way too girly!

If you don't find the result mindblowing, please keep in mind that I forgot to make the "before"photos...it was horrendous. Now it's worthy of a butterfly!

Feel like sharing some snapshots from teenage town as well...

Love,

On Faith: Make it Mine

2009-09-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

I have to try to write myself out of the silence that has put up camp in my heart.

I know my world is shaking, because suddenly I want to write in Swedish. In the most central little room in our heart there is only place for one language - the very first that shapes way we discover ourselves and the world. But I'll stick to my choice to make my texts available for all my friends, no matter where they live. For now.

There is such a gap between this silence and the chatty, upbeat teenage medley that surrounds me every day - I just don't know how to translate that into writing.

Jeroen is not here anymore. The dynamics between the people I care about the most here, is changing. My dreams are changing. I feel strong but empty.

Most importantly, my faith is changing. I've experienced it before, that I have to make my faith mine again. Re-examine. Toss out whatever convictions or colours that I've absorbed from others. Live and remember, with every speck of stardust in my heart, that the source of light and love that I believe in - is in me. That I am the only one who can strive to paint, build, create what my inner eye can see. Also, there is no one else who can take responsibility for me. Only me.

For a long time I've been mostly occupied with my study, Energy Therapy, how to set up practice, how to help children and youngsters with different labels, how to finally make the method I've learned available for many. At the moment I just want to meet a loving partner. Have babies. Have fun. Have money. That's it.

Love,
C

When Life Comes

2009-09-15T05:47:00.000-07:00

When life comes, and brings a morning in which a dear friend expires one last time.

When life comes running, places a warm wet kiss on my cheek and then takes off in light speed again. I'm looking for the bomb crater but everything's the same yet everything is different.

When life comes, rips the band-aid of all old scars and shouts: Heal! Live!

Sweet Jeroen, our dear friend. I wish you a safe journey. I miss you. Looking forward to seeing you again. Someday, somewhere.

Only love.
C

Take a Micro-Dive

2009-09-04T06:59:00.000-07:00

"Hey miss! I just bought an extra memory card for my phone! Wanna know why? I save all text messages from my girlfriend. I have three hundred now!!"

Says B, my new second year student. With a big, secretive smile. B says a lot with this smile of his. In two weeks time he has given me his opinion on energy drinks, boys manipulating girls for sex, alcohol habits, touch screen mobile phones, money management, different ways to secretely listen to music in class without teachers noticing, problem-solving through violence, safe sex, the entire school staff, his beloved girlfriend and parenting...! He talks. A lot. All the time. And believe it or not, I'm loving it.

He's a huge young man with his heart on his tongue. These kinds of comments, stories, meetings, are jewels in my working life. Sparkling eyes looking up to share something micro-important. Micro moments.

I sometimes do something I would have to call micro-diving. When diving into something seemingly small will help in a big way. Like breathing. Or the way I eat. Or the way I walk, move my body. Doing something more consciously for a while can be quite enlightening. Like am I really taking the time to taste what I'm eating when I'm working (stress stress)? Am I relaxing while walking through the city, taking in impressions around me or only running towards my destination with a compulsive inner repeating of today's to do-list (stress stress)? And am I breathing deeply, sufficiently, in a way that supports and nourishes my system? Or only shallowly, quickly, unconsciously?

Anything experienced consciously, whether it is my own breathing or the intriguing tales of mister B, is a moment lived. A moment won. A moment savoured.

It's a micro moment and I'm diving right into it.

Love,
C

When Death Comes

2009-08-31T05:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I can write just about anything, except what's really going on in my heart. I told this to a good friend of mine, not so long ago. He looked at me with his big, brown eyes, smiled his boyish smile and gave me that feeling of connectedness. Like so many times before. That very friend of mine is leaving us. Terminally ill with no more than a couple of months to live.

The jar of ink at the very centre of my heart seems more thoroughly sealed than ever. I can't find the words to wrap around what's happening. I can't believe he's leaving, or grasp that I will have to miss him.

He is going Home. Back to where he came from. He is taking a part of each one of us with him, and also leaving a piece of his heart right here with us. Somehow he is opening a door to something new in a way that could never take place without this enormous shift.

Please don't think I'm preaching, I'm full of contradictions, of the beauty and pain of this messy life. When I first found out that he was terminally ill with a rare and very aggressive disease I was angry with him for leaving. And sad. Endlessly. Later also comforted and peaceful in the knowing that he is essentially fine and that a part of him is happy to go Home. That he is surrounded by love in a way that some people never get to experience.

The words I can find are not doing justice to what's happening. But I have to write about it, there is no way to write around it. I need to dip the feather pen right into the dying of our dear friend.

In the midst of this I feel rich and proud.
Proud of my family here.

"When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms."

“When Death Comes” by Mary Oliver

The Wedding Band

2009-08-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

I bought them back in 1998. The two thick, plain silver rings that recently found their way back to my left hand. Back then I was standing at a crossroad. The longest, deepest relationship I've ever had, had come to an end. I lived alone again and had started something with the man who would later, for ten short and not so sweet months, become my husband. My new relationship felt solid and promising. But something happened and I lied to him. Over the phone, since he lived in Amsterdam and I still in Stockholm at the time.

I had to make a choice. I was terrified of telling him the truth about what I had done. Which was being unfaithful to him, with my ex. I was convinced I would lose him if I told him and it made me devastated. Still, I just couldn't live with myself or with beginning something new based on a lie. So I fessed up. Almost threw up from the tension but I did it. My boyfriend was more touched by my honesty than bothered by my mishap. Amazing. I couldn't believe it. I risked everything and won it all right back.

The day after I saw the two rings at a jewellery store and decided to buy myself a present as a symbol of oneness between who I am and who I would like to be. Sort of like a wedding band between heart and mind. I felt cleansed and grateful after what had happened and the bond between me and my future husband only felt strengthened. Later I put the rings away, they made place for a traditional wedding band and shortly after when the divorce was final I started wearing the big artsy kind of rings I normally fancy.

And then a few weeks ago my truth-celebration rings showed up again, in a jewellery box tucked away at my parent's place. I put them on and have been wearing them happily ever since. Feels symbolic, like I continue building on the good decisions I made back then before I lost myself a little in the conventions of the world and of
a marriage.

These plain silver babies still symbolize to me the act of committing. Just like when I bought them eleven years ago. Committing to myself. To my truth. To my talents. To enjoying myself more. Vows as good as any.

Love,
C

Just Say Yes

2009-08-14T15:31:00.001-07:00

Well, it took a little getting used to everything back in my crown country. (As far as the Tree of My Life is concerned, Sweden is the roots and Holland it's crown. France is a broken little twig and Skåne a fungus stain.)

First I had to get used to that warm humid blanket that falls over you when you exit Schiphol airport. Traffic jams. No more blueberry breakfasts. No more caffeine "fika" overkill. Then I dug right into things with lots of fresh energy and new inspiration. Until I got bitten by the worry-bug. Yesterday. Sadness caught up with me to the point where I lost my what they here in Holland call "pit". Which sounds funny to the Swedes reading this since "pitt" in Swedish refers to the male joystick. "Pit" in Dutch means spice, gumption, character. Power. If you lose your pit, you're in trouble.

The worry-bug will do that. That's when your head takes over and makes you live through all kinds of situations that haven't even happened yet. To the point where a wet blanket, much like the humid climate in this country, falls over you.

I woke up this morning feeling like a big NO. So I decided to take a deep breath, turn it around and Just Say Yes.

Yes to a life in which a friend of mine is changing and kind of disappearing before my eyes. Yes, even if all we can do right now is buy Jack Sparrow-like pirate patches for his eye instead of the band aid that makes him look even more sick than he is. Take him for a walk in a wheelchair. Bring some delicious home made pasta instead of the loveless hospital food. Yes.

Yes to a life in which my mother is struggling in the no man's land of waiting. Still not knowing what that white shadow in her head is. Love her. Protect her. Yes.

Yes to the fact that I have some awesome dreams I want to fulfil. Or at least die trying. Yes.

Yes to my amazing friends.

Joy, sadness, struggles, pleasures. YES.

Kisses&Hugs,
C

Stupid Girl Alert

2009-08-07T14:07:00.000-07:00

Runner Girl returned to Holland together with me. She's not as enthused about the open fields as she was about the deep dark green of the forests back home, but she has cut me a deal to keep me healthy and full of endorphins.

Runner Girl is not the only character who has survived the tough last couple of years...another one who popped up like a not so longed for suprise is Stupid Girl. I'm a little less thrilled to see her again. Stupid girl has been away for a while but an anononymous (well) someone pushed a few buttons earlier this spring and this holiday she really thrived.

Stupid Girl has a way of making me feel even more skinless than I already am. Her only response to my inner dialogue about how nobody can really give or take anything that you don't already have inside of you, how you can never possess a person - is to stuff a pink g-string in my mouth and shout HA!

Stupid Girl wants to conquer - seduce or be seduced. Wants to TOUCH SOMEONE IN A WAY THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN TOUCHED BEFORE. Preferably over the very first cup of coffee together. She wants to laugh, cry and make love with the same passion that she has a fiery fight. She does NOT want to sleep. Be patient. Or to let go. She makes me forget my normal, "full of surrender" state of being.

I'm happy about Runner Girl, I start the day with her. But I go to bed with Stupid Girl.

Love,
C

Food porn & laughter

2009-08-04T14:53:00.000-07:00

This is it. My special place in the world where I can always recharge. Feels a little bit like my house too. My aunt Kina happens to be one of my best friends and once again after a stay here I feel strengthened. By all the jogs in the forest, all the great (and hilarious) talks, all the food porn and the lightness of heart with which she sets the tone here.

This morning we were harvesting a whole new set of notes by Jesper who isn't going to let anyone sleep, think or exist until he has his game...

One of the notes says "Come on do yo have any idea how long it took to draw this...?"

And this is what the bathroom mirror looked like...

Could anyone get this guy the freaking game? PLEASE?

Old people's humour - so not ballin

2009-08-03T13:01:00.000-07:00

He would like to be referred to as "The blond, handsome, anonymous skater". He also happens to be my 14 year-old cousin. Momentarily he's heavily invested in acquiring the latest star on the gamer sky: "Assasin's Creed II". And he's good.

This morning when his lovely mother gets up for work, she finds 21 notes placed on strategic places all over the house. There is no way she could do her morning routine without coming across each and every one of them. Let me share his work with you:

"Can I buy Assasin's Creed II mom? Please..."

"Come on I'm learning pretty much English when I'm playing games"

"Jesper cannot buy this game cuz he has a lovely but stubborn mother"

"Assasin's Creed NOT Assassinate Creed"

"I'd learn a lot about historical events. That's a plus"

"It's my money, I decide"

"I only have 27 days before the black edition expires. Please..."

"Come on...seriously. I've got to have the game it seems so awesome"

"There is almost no blood in it why why (sob!)"

"Best game ever (duh)"

"Look I'm starting to act freaky because I don't have the game"

"Black edition epic game"

"It took a long time to write all the notes, go downstairs and see how I've been working my butt off"

"You've seen gameplay and all what's the prob?"

"J'adore Assassins Creed II"

"Dude I'm under time pressure"

"Assassins Creed must buy"

"I've actually spent all night writing these notes now"

"Third time lucky I want it so bad plzzzzzzzzzz"

"You know I love you and vice versa but there's nothing bad about the game"

"Before you leave THINK"

It's really quite impressive. His mother is considering it. (Jesper is making his mother read a three page long review of the game as we speak...)I'm so impressed by the sophistication of his manipulation skills I'm totally siding up with him. Respect.

At the Indian restaurant were we had dinner this evening, the waitress stops by and asks if we are enjoying our food. Kina answers "It's nice". The waitress hears something else and brings a napkin. Kina and I are giggling. Jesper takes a chilled look at us, then turns to his cousin Kalle and says, cool as a cucumber: "Old people's humour. So not ballin."

He finally kills us with an uncanny imitation of Mr Mackey. Give the guy his game.

Weed and Vanilla

2009-07-29T10:31:00.000-07:00

All my senses are given a treat these first of my days in Stockholm, I hardly know how to process them. I have to make my heart bigger and breathe for a while. I'm sitting underneath a huge birch tree watching thin, friendly clouds move slowly across the sky. Swallows are carving their patterns into the air with angel-like circling.

The wind move through the tree crowns and I am listening with one ear to the summer radio program by the warm, funny gourmet chef Mathias Dahlgren. He starts off with "Life on Mars" which makes me want to cry, or laugh, or both. This gastronomic mastermind is talking about Swedish identity, thoughts of which are occupying my mind too at the moment.

The tone, that Swedish something that breaks open my heart every time I come back home is something I can't put into words. Or maybe I just don't want to. To me, at this point in my life, it's a hopeless love. I truly, intensely love the heart of this country. The stories and melodies it was born from. It's wonderfully hopeless ideals. Big ego. It's crazy, mindblowingly beautiful women and gorgeous men. But it's not where my journey is supposed to be right now.

I'm stubbornly following a path, a narrow one. More than often the choices I make seem crazy. Utterly. I know that some things would be easier if I chose differently. But my heart tells me to stick to it. So I will. Until it tells me otherwise. Then I'll be the first to buy the house across the street from where my aunt lives, set up my practice and live my life surrounded by the sweetest language in the world.

But anyway. Senses. Last night was a treat as well, I got to enjoy the company of a beautiful, free soul who makes my butterfly wings flutter a little more joyfully, as always when inspiration is being served. Good conversation, many laughs and too long-a-line of drinks, one more delicious than the other, ended with a dead-serious scent analysis of and by me and my friend. The deal was to catch some kind of aura scent, beyond perfume and body lotion. I thought he smelled like weed and vanilla. He pinned my scent down as "farm kitchen". Which isn't very flattering at all. But hey, who am I to argue with a scent specialist?

Off to see friends now. Don't think I'm not grateful for each meeting these days.

Love,
C

It's Divine to be Human

2009-07-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

Jogging is a great metaphor for life. (Running through a Swedish forest is a special treat, with huge pine trees glancing down at me from way up there, much like the Ents in "The Lord of the Rings" - kind of friendly, curious, but more than anything slooooo-hooooow.)

You have to give yourself time when you start off to find your pace and rhythm. You can definitely not think about all the kilometres ahead of you, that will make the best of intentions crumble up and turn into an urgent need to turn around, go home and have a huge latte instead. You can only surrender, nestle into your body, fall into your own rhythm and enjoy the scenery that passes by. Slowly, while breathing. While breathing. Fresh oxygen in, old used-up oxygen, transporting tensions and over-thought things, out.

Until you reach that meditative state where there is nothing, except maybe a melody line or a post for a blog. Where there is only your breathing, like cleansing waves crashing on your inner, private beach.

I'm surprised and grateful that the runner in me is still in there. I thought she died a long time ago due to malnutrition. But she's alive and well and not even angry that I've ignored her for so long. She just dusts some spider web off her hair, says: "Hey, there you are again!! Good to see ya, let's go!" and runs off. Thanks to her I get to run with a condition I don't really deserve.

The forest track that seemed endless a few days ago, feels perfectly doable and much shorter today. I'm in a symbolic mood and jump to thoughts about expectations colouring our journey here in life. It's a good thing we forget about previous lives when we jump into the earth-suit again. Otherwise we would be bored ot of our minds even during the first couple of years here.

To me, life gets depressing if I or the people around me believe that I am my body. That my physical body is all there is to it. I've never believed that, not even when I was a little girl. I have however, had periods in my life when I temporarily forgot about that immense, loving voice inside of me, because I was busy chasing some outer perfection or feeding my ego. It always ended with depression.

So in a way, I wish we could remember the unfathomable beauty and greatness of our being, our journey and the agreements made between different dimensions - all the time. But I also get that the veil that falls around us when we open our eyes on planet earth is there for a reason. We start off with a blank sheet and slowly reclaim our divinity. Our true origine. Again.

Love,

Small Circles

2009-07-21T02:08:00.000-07:00

Back in my root country, spending time with my family and especially with my mum, whose health is fragile at the moment.

Life has to move in small circles right now. My mother is tired and needs a lot of rest. Needs help to change the Superwoman pattern that she has lived for so long, in which she can do anything, and will, especially if someone else needs her. She also needs to laugh. So, I'm not going anywhere.

All kinds of molecular adjustments take place when a mother and a child are toghether, love is a great healer. In our case, the healer is very selective and efficient since we don't get to enjoy each others physical presence that often. My intuition tells me with a loud and vibrating knowing, in every cell of my body, that I need to be close to her and life needs to be SIMPLE for a few days. No work, no hours on the phone dealing with whatever kind of urgencies, not even too complicated dinner plans. Just breathing love, in and out. Making the decision, once again, to shine. To believe in Light. To live the truth that thoughts of and fears about a situation, is much worse than the situation itself.

The beautiful Soul Jason Mraz says on his blog: "Life itself is empty and meaningless. Truly. It’s you who give meaning to something. The world you see before you is entirely defined by your interpretation of it. Otherwise, life just is."

I wrote in a poem to my Beloved Brother, years ago:

"Mostly, when I look at you
I indulge in the little girl's love for her strong, beautiful brother
but now, when your body is weak
and you spend most of your time far away from here
I am reminded of another, much stronger bond that we share
and with my sisterly love
gently folded in the pocket of my coat
I rise to the occasion.

There is nothing real in this world
except the Love that we time and time again
live and die for."

The only thing we truly have when we are painting the canvas of our life, is the colours of our intentions.

So, toghether with mum, small circles it is. Rest. Love.

Hugs,
C

Going Home

2009-07-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

Flying back to my beloved land of fairytales this morning: The whole trip I'm reading Stieg Larsson (and mentally protecting myself from the cabin space bacteria whirlpool. Swine flu? I don't think so).

The fact that I'm reading a best-selling Swedish writer in Dutch translation is a sign to me that I have truly become a butterfly; a fluttering, two-home-countries, fully integrated global citizen. No more melancholic Swedish tears for me, I'm going to mix the non-sentimental, dry humour of the Dutch with the crystal clear, immense purity and beauty of Sweden, into my own Butterfly Cocktail!

The Universe sends me a treat by putting a bus I didn't know about right in front of my nose when I've arrived at Arlanda. A direct bus to Örebro, which means that I won't have to go into Stockholm city first. So it saves me three hours and gives me a beautiful trip back to my home town, through smaller cities like Enköping and Västerås. Miles and miles of summer lush fields and forests. Old cars. Empty streets. An old man on a parking lot in the middle of nowhere, with a big, hand painted, scruffy sign, selling "cocosbollar". As if time is standing still.

One of the Swedish newspaper of the category "slightly less serious journalism", tells me however that time is not standing still. The usual sensationalistic articles about murder&death, holiday weather and Anita Ekberg's artery problems, give a good contrast to the purity of the lakes we're passing.

I take a deep breath and count my blessings. It's good to be back.

The Snow Goose

2009-07-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

Bare with me, friends. I am living the abundance of a long summer holiday and have taken the plunge into the wordless rest. They will come back, the words, I'm sure. But for now, my blog production is meager.

This was my inspiration today......

1. Jason Mraz' great blog. It's light, loving, funny and nutricious to body and soul.

2. Paulo Coelho who declares on his twitter page that he cancelled "all interviews for the months to come. I need to live my sacred folly." Respect.

3. Teachings by Nichiren Daishonin that found their way back to me and hit me like a joyful hammer right in the chest, just like way back when I was a buddhist rookie:

"There is definitely something extraordinary in the ebb and flow of the tide, the rising and setting of the moon, and the way in which summer, autumn, winter, and spring give way to each other. Something uncommon also occurs when an ordinary person attains Buddhahood. At such a time, the three obstacles and four devils will invariably appear, and the wise will rejoice while the foolish will retreat."

4. Quotations by Lao Tse...perfect for the summer mode in which I'm actually relaxed enough to really take in what he's saying. Like this: "The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself."

Right. Be yourself. I'm talking the talk but am I walking the walk?

Love,

Resolve to Love

2009-06-30T03:36:00.000-07:00

Here we go again.

Once again, angels pull me up when I don't know how to put one foot in front of the other anymore. When my mind in dark conspiracy with my ego will blabber on about things "off" in my life or in the world. And then, like so many times before, before solutions have become visible, comes the knowing that all is well.

Jan Provily , my beloved teacher, taught us during the five years we were studying Holistic Energy Therapy- and still - about the "ego ninja". The energy who constantly fights for it's own survival, makes me believe I'm separated from the people around me and makes me worry more about how others see me than what is actually valuable and truthful in a situation. The war monger. We can't make the ego go away, it's a part of our human journey. Comes with the package and our human body. But if we know when we are driven by ego, know when it's whispering "what if" thoughts into our mental landscape, we can choose thoughts and actions more consciously. Smile and understand why ego fights so hard for survival...if I'm Soul-connected, ego has no say and no place to stay.

Eckart Tolle separates "Life" from "Life situation". You own ego will always have an opinion about your life situation, will either feel great or miserable about specific conditions in your life. Work, partner, family, friendship, health, financial status and other things that confirm who we are based on ego. Not that it's not important - all aspects of our lives are important. But is not who we really are. He uses the term "life" to talk about our indestructible, inexhaustable core. The energy that you can feel at the center of your being. That will not be reduced or conditioned by all the circumstances in your life situation.

Alex Lickerman talks about resolve: "Resolve, like belief, is an inexplicable but irresistible force that lives in every single one of us. We all have the power to summon up an inflexible will to win. Even when you lack a plan or can’t find the path to your goal, take solace and encouragement from the fact that resolve is the fuel that drives the engine of accomplishment and you literally have an inexhaustible supply."

I feel grateful again today. Grateful and full of resolve.

Hugs,
C

The doctor doesn't know but I do

2009-06-27T15:30:00.000-07:00

Went to the doctor yesterday to check up on a pain in my right breast. It's been there for a few weeks but got worse last week, to the point of keeping me awake at night and making me go to bed with one breast in an Aloë Vera gel-wrap. (Please don't ask me to be scientific about it - a moist cool towel with a few drops of liquid Aloë Vera just felt good...better anyway.)

My little mini-woman-doctor checked everything and couldn't find anything scary. Her conclusion was that it probably has to do with hormones. Which is her way of saying that she doesn't know what it is. But I do.

Because when she put her tiny mini-woman-doctor-fingers into my breast to look for unwanted shapes and forms, I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. And then I just wanted to CRY. Every. Single. Tear. I haven't allowed myself to cry these last weeks.

So I did. I went to the tanning studio and wept for every one of those twelve expensive minutes I was under the UV-lights. Behind the black glasses. I cried the angry, screaming, wolf-howling tears of a little girl who cannot force the stars to keep her mother forever protected, safe and sound. The kicking, screaming NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!-tears that I am trying to keep at bay. That sometimes co-exist with faith and honest surrender. But not this day.

I think I must have tucked away every single tear in my right breast. The moment Mrs mini-me started poking me they came out anyway.

It's my job as a therapist (and even as a teacher) to help release, heal and transform blocked emotions and convictions. But that is always easier to do for someone else. Which is beautiful. It's like a built-in condition in our earthly matrix - that we need each other. We need others to help mirror behaviour, trigger insights and work through feelings.

We might carry all the keys within us, but we need loved ones or even hated ones to make us remember. No man is an island. There is one living organism and we are all a part of it.

Love,
C

A Bug for a Lady

2009-06-25T04:45:00.000-07:00

This morning, while biking from one school to another, a Ladybug landed on my leg.

In Europe during the middle ages, insects were destroying the crops. Catholic farmers are said to have prayed to the Virgin Mary for help. Within short, loads of Ladybugs arrived and ate the insects, saved the crops from destruction. The farmers began to call the Ladybugs “the Beetles of Our Lady” and eventually they were known as Lady Beetles.

They are a symbol of luck and a good omen all over the world, the red little fellas. In France, it is said that if you are ill when one lands on you, it will fly away with your illness. So, just in case, in these times of waiting, I send a prayer and a Ladybug to you mum.

Besides, in Sweden it is said that if a Ladybug lands on a young woman's hand, she will soon get married. Will a leg do instead of a hand?

Hugs.

Freedom Fighters

2009-06-15T01:04:00.000-07:00

I'm on the bus this morning trying to pep myself to keep my head high facing some challenges, including some financial ones and of course the one thing currently on my mind - my mothers test results. Head high. Back straight. Sword sharp. The sword that cuts through doubt and fears. Through ego bullshit, like a hot knife through butter.

A middle-aged man with kind eyes hands me one of the free morning papers at the big station where I change busses in the morning. On the front page, a picture of man of my age. The photo is from Teheran, where outbursts are taking place after the sabotaged elections. The man is standing in front of a burning building and everything is covered in black smoke. A mouth cap covers most of his face except a pair of dark brown eyes burning with determination. He's got his right fist, clenched, on his heart, and with his left hand he is doing the Victory sign. He looks like a student and probably is - jeans, t-shirt, back pack.

My stomach turns when I see the photo. This is exactly where we are people. In front of a burning world. Whether you like it or not. Whether you stand in front of it fighting, inhaling smoke, doing the V sign, or head down staring at your toes, worrying about whatever. I say that as much to myself as to you. It's just a fact. The world is self-destructing, but also re-emerging. There are beautiful people fighting for change against all odds. Like this guy. I feel a surge of warmth when I see him. Determined. Fearless!

How am I going to face the daily challenges, small or big? With fiery eyes or a trembling lower lip?

Thanks freedom fighters for reminding me of essential things.

Immaculate Intoxication

2009-06-11T02:17:00.000-07:00

Dizzy day yesterday. Wide awake at 4.00 a.m, feeling as if I'd been clubbing all night. Two hours later, so many unappetizing things had already happened with both cats and one dog, no I will not go into details people, that basically everything in my room was cleaned, washed and changed. The washing machine started it's morning shift at 6.15.

Wobbled off to the grocery store, still feeling as if I just finished a bottle of wine for breakfast. It was quite nice actually. Everyone in the store looked so lovely. I saw a gorgeous woman getting fresh bread and found myself staring at her mouth. Wondered if Scarlett Johansson ever gets tired of people telling her she's got such full, sensual lips. Which made me think of the film "Vicky Christina Barcelona". I was moving down the aisles at snake speed pondering whether Woody Allen would like to be like the character Juan Antonio in his film, who fearlessly reaches for anything he wants in lust, love and despair (might be easier if you look like Javier Bardem but it's not essential).

The walk back home was fascinating. (Is it possible to somehow absorb alcohol from the air? Or a dream?) A terracotta coloured butterfly that fluttered by seemed as big as a hand. The oak trees along the road were leaning over me, I swear.

So I called in sick. Had plenty of time to finish off my analysis of Miss Johansson's lips And Mrs Allen's aspirations. Which of course is brilliant since it keeps me from thinking about other things. Today I'm back in Teenage City and glad to be. My drunkenness is over and I don't even have a hangover.

A White Shadow

2009-06-08T02:06:00.000-07:00

It's a white shadow on an x-ray photo. A white shadow where there is supposed to be a dark one. My mother has something in her head. Something that's not supposed to be there. Voices reaching me from far far away talk about inches and shapes and how the special scan scheduled in a week will determine whether the white shadow is shaped like a ball or like a sea urchin. Which makes all the difference since the sea urchins are harder to treat.

I cry and then decide to pick up my sword and fight - to choose my thoughts and prayers with care and help my family do the same. Inside me there is an overwhelming silence.

I talk to mum, she is in a good shape, considering. She says she is going to fight. But that's not what reassures me. No,that's the fact that she is not going to cancel her dance training later this summer. She was really happy to be taken off the waiting list and she is not willing to cancel the trip. Way to go mum. We learned a lot about waiting for test results the last time there were strange shadows on x-ray photos.

It strikes me that only one's head creates drama, the heart doesn't. The head will scream about all kinds of things, calculate options and odds and dramatize events with words, saying things like "I've never felt this empty". The heart says nothing. There is only stillness. Sadness. Hope.

The Honeysuckle is blossoming in the neighbour's garden. The straycat with half a tail is waiting by the pony for someone to give her food, as usual. I am making pizza for my friends. And my mother has something in her head.

Unleash a Breeze: I'm having my dessert first

2009-05-29T01:34:00.000-07:00

My teacher wrote a poem for me a few a years ago. The first words were "Unleash a breeze and walk this way". Which to me has come to mean "dont hold your breath", literally and figuratively speaking. Let go. Let yourself be. Who you are.

"Unleash" sounds as if you're about to unleash something totally uncontrollable, but in the end it's just a breeze. The breeze that makes everything new and fresh. Even when breathing properly we actually let go of emotional and mental garbage with every exhalation.

It has also come to mean "don't overthink things". Thinking is a limited activity and can make anything seem difficult and scary.

"Walk this way", to me, means "Come here". Dive into the world. Into the moment. Into relations. Into problems. Into toghetherness. My natural tendency is to keep things at a distance but I'm challenged to dive right into the hot glorious messiness of life. While breathing. While being. While not trying to solve all problems through thinking.

So in the spirit of this poem, I have an experiment going! I have decided to turn the world order around. I'm having my dessert first.

I'm not waiting anymore. Not waiting for the things I want to realize before I'm "there". Not waiting for the loving partner, for the practice I want to run on my own, for the children I might have, for the comfortably big bank account, for clarity and insight, before I unleash the breeze. Before I let myself feel complete. Arrived. Fulfilled.

I'm starting off with dessert! A big, rich, divine Tiramisu. I'm already "there". I'm already here. I am.

Report from the Rubber Boat

2009-05-21T15:51:00.000-07:00

I've done it several times. Left my current island of comfort, jumped into a small rubber boat at set out for the open sea. Not quite knowing where I was going, only that I had to move on.

Every time I would find myself completely overwhelmed at first. By huge waves, new challenges and by my own fears. My little boat would be thrown in all directions and I would literally spend the first weeks or months desperately clinging to the slippery rubber, regretting having left the warmth and security of my comfort island. Wondering how I could make such a bad decision. Wondering if I would ever reach shore again - not being able to go back and not being able to spot land anywhere. Only an endless horizon, a burning sun or cold rain, scary waves and even a few sharks.

Then one day, after a lot of worrying, crying, reaching, being angry with God and clinging to the stupid rubber boat, I would find myself...embracing the whole situation. Feeling and accepting the challenge. Feeling hope. Eventually even a bold inner smile. Finally, I would wake up in my little boat one morning and see land far in the distance.

Like now. I can finally feel that inner smile. I know there will be more waves, but I'm strong enough. I can see land. I feel grateful for lessons learned and eager to conquer new land.

Love.

Don't invite the Monday Monster

2009-05-17T23:58:00.000-07:00

Maybe the Monday Monster is out to get you too. Trying to make you believe that your problems are bigger than your blessings. That life would be better if you had...a job. Or a better job. More money. A love in your life. Better health. Children. More time. A more Hollywoodlike body. Success.

He's working really hard throwing his shadows, because he has everything to gain. He has absolutely no power unless you invite him into your mind. There he can rest and feed upon your worries. No wonder he's doing his best. Imagine if you wouldn't listen to him at all. That you would be committed to enjoying and honouring who you are. That you would go to work today with an inner smile that would slowly but surely spread to your colleagues. Then he would lose even more ground.

What if you would decide, today, that you - with your hopeless hair, big nose, crappy job, lousy time-management, troubled kids - are a miracle. That it takes an enormous effort and courage to be born in this world and that you did it. That the possibilities and resources within you are infinite?

You decide. No research. No listening to voices of the old world, saying you are what you do. No listening to Monday Monsters or any other kind of parasites.

You decide.

It's about the How!

2009-05-15T01:23:00.000-07:00

Marja is the name behind the friendly face at the counter where I pick up some fresh croissants and orange juice this morning. Raining today.

In the bus I read in the daily newspaper that a Turkish farmer in Kadirusagi has gone underground with his cow. The cow had accidentally pushed over a statue of Atatürk, the founder of modern Turkey. The man was afraid of repercussions and brought his cow to a safe address.

I also saw a documentary last week about an African woman in her sixties, who had always dreamt about going to school so that she could one day become a nurse. She'd had to wait until her children were grown up and now she figured, her time had come. So there she was, surrounded by children at the age of five, struggling her way through the first school year. She was really popular among the kids who considered her a granny in the class. Coincidentally there was a cow involved in this story too. The lovely granny told the interviewing journalist that she had a hard time concentrating sometimes because she kept thinking about her cow back at the farm. First thing when school was over every day, she rushed back home to take care of the farm and her beloved cow.

So where am I going with all these cows? One of the first things that appealed to me when I started practising buddhism 17 years ago was something the Japanese writer Daisaku Ikeda said. "It's not about what you do, it's about how you do it. You could be cleaning hotel rooms somewhere but if you give it your full attention and shine in everything you do, doors will open for you all the time. Cause and effect. All the time. Everywhere." I don't think he used the word love, but that's how I see it today. If I can be truly present in whatever I'm up to, and to it with love and care, nothing else matters. I won't have to worry about the next moment or the next day. I can just be right here, in the now. That's the how.

So a man risking his life for his beloved cow, or an African beauty who starts all over again at the age of 60, that's about all the inspiration I need today.

Help I'm in Summer Mode!

2009-05-12T01:45:00.001-07:00

I don't know what's the matter with me...maybe I've switched into summer mode? I'm normally efficient to the bone. Using every free moment to work my way through the to do-list. Efficient to the point of being uptight, my mind never resting. And now...? I woke up one morning last week with the feeling that I had lost something, not knowing what it was. Since then my mind refuses to work. Period.

My to do-lists seem endless and written in Russian. The delicate problems of my beloved students overwhelm me. There is a huge Weeping Willow on the school yard and all I want to do is stare out the window and look at its long sweeping branches. All day. Time doesn't work for me at all at the moment. My morning ritual suddenly takes twice as long, as if my whole system refuses to follow the tic-toc pulse of the clock.

Me and my friends have had some serious bureaucratic obstacles lately and I've started countless mornings with killing pep-talks. Picked up my sword of faith, convinced myself that anything is possible, then jumped into a fight of letters, phone calls and hearings. Now all I want to do is let go. Nothing really takes off . I have a feeling that the world is diving, like a sad dolphin, towards its deepest point. From which it will re-emerge. I seem to be doing the same.

So now what? Breathe in, breathe out. Count my blessings. Burn the lists. Buy a new lip-gloss. And smile at someone in the bus.

...and just to illustrate my point - when I look up from having written this, I discover that I have jumped on the wrong bus and that I'm almost home again. Instead of at my work. Help.

Thank You for bringing me Here

2009-04-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

Once again I find myself running, doing, doing doing. Looking outside myself for inspiration, for beauty, for love. And once again I am firmly but gently guided right back to my own heart.

Reminded not to look outside myself for things I long for or think I need. There is a distinct voice that lovingly but strictly tell me that everything I'm looking for is within me already. 'Longing for love? You are love. So give what you long for. Looking for inspiration? It's right here. All you have to do is be quiet and listen.'

I seem to long for love more than some people. I think I might have been an alcoholic, workoholic, sexoholic or some other holic, if it wasn't for the fact that I've had the best help to learn how to deal with having real thin skin. To learn how to put on a thick skin where it's needed and enjoy the space and the freedom of being skinless where it's safe. It's not always easy when everything seems to fly in and out of your heart pretty much without boundaries.

I'm not complaining. It's my longing for pulsating life, for inspiration, warmth, encouragement - that makes me want to give. As much as I can. Til the day I die. I want to represent what I miss in this world. It's not a bad way to live.

Depeche Mode made today's painting session a celebration of being skinless, with "Home" on a deafening volume...

And I thank you

for bringing me here

for showing me home

for singing these tears

finally I've found

that I belong here.

Early Morning Crusaders

2009-04-27T05:22:00.000-07:00

Well observed. These guys are lying where I'm supposed to lie, considering it's, you know, holiday...? When normal people (normal childless people that is) get to sleep in...?

The early morning crusaders don't care for holidays, they start serenading around seven o'clock in the morning. In praise of hazy sunrises and wet grass. They have a busy schedule and have to start early - they have birds to scare, cats to chase off, grass to chew, confused ducks to swim by to fetch the beloved, almighty red tennis ball, territories to mark, lady dogs to sniff up, male dogs to warn, sand to roll in (after swimming, which makes them look pretty much like the cinnamon donuts from McDonalds) and innumerable playful battles to fight over the holy tennisball. Not to mention rotten fish to roll in, should you be so lucky as to get hold of one of those...

Eh...thing.

2009-04-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

Today is a whirlpool of white skinny-jeans, golden belts and red faces. One girl is dancing around, reacting to everything that's said with a " iiiiiiiiiiihhhh!!!!!!" . Another one is singing Edelweiss, with an A-M-A-Z-I-N-G voice, I'm sure I'll see her in Idols in a few years - but Edelweiss...? Please. It's the warmest, most beautiful day yet this year, the last day before spring break and my darling monsters are not up for it.

When I realize that I'm bitching about something for the tenth time and actually expecting them to work this sexy summer day, I rethink. What ever happened to "go with the flow"?

Ice cream it is. We take off to the best Italian gelateria that Haarlem has to offer and within 10 minutes, they're sheepishly content, licking their ice creams and trying to work me with compliments about my age. How I look much younger than the disgustingly old age of thirty-seven. It works. I believe them because I want to and because I'm vain. Until I see some photos that I quickly erase.

A few things moved me this week. "Thing". My students say it all the time. "Hey Miss! Eh, thing. When are we leaving next week?" It means something like "what was I going to say again?". It's the cutest thing. Yesterday I had eleven missed calls from Mr fix-it, a student of mine, and when I finally called back, the first thing he said was "Hi Miss Onell, ehh, thing. I found the keys!" Prizeless. As if he didn't have time to think about what he wanted to say those eleven times that he called.

Further, one of my favorite writers, Martin Bril, passed over to the other side Wednesday. Only 49 years old. I have no doubt that he's ok on the other side but I have to say that life here on this side is a little less fun and a little less beautiful without his rebellious voice.

Love.

Camp it Up

2009-04-22T14:55:00.000-07:00

School Camp. What have we learned this year?

1. That "chapsen" means to eat, "flex" is good-looking and "link" is awesome.

2. That sleep is totally overrated and basically something only grown-ups whine about.

3. That serving 6 classes hard-boiled eggs before stepping into two busses is a rotten (!!!!!) idea.

4. That the toughest bad guys buy sweet presents for little sisters.

5. That the heartbreaking business continues - school camp or not. Couples were formed, others broke up. Betrayals took place in the midst of the summer green.

6. That you don't have to do anything to scare the students during the "scary creepy walk" through the dark forest. They take care of that themselves. They're so scared before it even begins, lighting a flashlight behind a tree is more than enough.

7. That it's perfectly ok to live and sleep in a clutter of dirty underwear, sweaty socks and empty bags of crisps for three days. As long as your hair looks flex.

Saturday Morning: Walking & Praying

2009-04-18T05:38:00.001-07:00

Today I pray to bring out my own inner holy oil to grease up the love system.

I pray to be alert and powerful.

I wish to put my love into this household today, and into the website that needs to be created.

I trust that solutions, and the things I long for, will find me. Just like the prunus blossom that just fell down in front of my feet. It's now shrivelled up in my pocket, because I'm not ready to have and not to hold. I need to hold.

Thank You for this day, Heavenly Source of Light and Love.

Amen

The Lady of ill Repute

2009-04-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

Ok, so here's the thing. The reason I'm late with the letter to the tax office... is that when I was supposed to take care of it today, one of my favorite students (sorry, do have those) stormed in completely upset and almost in tears because hos girlfriend had just broken up with him because she had heard from someone that he had been to a prostitute and now she didn't even want to talk to him anymore and even said she would change her number and 'I just don't know what to do can I maybe leave to go to the store and buy like a present for her and it's my own fault you know cuz I told someone I'd been there but it's not true and I don't want to lose her you know and it's really really stupid...! You know...?'

Let me explain something. I have two breaks every day in between classes. Twenty minutes at eleven o'clock and another twenty at one o'clock. Anything else you need to do during a day...whether it's peeing, eating, calling stupid phone providers who put you on hold for ages about mysterious invoices, writing letters to the tax office about even more mysterious invoices or simply sit down and breathe for a moment - needs to take place in that window of twenty minutes.

Obviously, a letter to the tax office isn't really an option anymore when you have a problem with a fictive whore. I have my priorities straight. Which means that the first break was spent talking to the sweet, upset liar and his best friend, then the sweet, upset girlfriend. The gossip masters who made sure the lie reached the girlfriend were delt with in the second break. (And this is the ONLY reason I still have a flat tummy - I simply dont have time to eat.)

Right. Now all I have to do is to put all this in a letter for the tax office to explain my delay. I'll do it Monday. In my first break.

Head high and hands open!

2009-04-15T01:34:00.000-07:00

This photo by Chris Steele Perkins fell out of my diary this morning.

Children in South Africa, welcoming an awaited rain with open hands and heads turned upwards. Mouths open, tasting shimmering drops falling from the sky. Unafraid, unsentimental.

I am reminded to enjoy what heaven sends. Open my hands, today again. Lift my head up up up. Embrace. A warm spring rain. The warm buzz in my heart when thinking of good friends. Prayers sent my way by people who love me.

When I found my brother here in Holland he lovingly started calling me "Stupid girl". Which is like the essence of what I am...a wise, loving, stupid girl. And at the very core of my StupidGirlHeart is this: the fact that I have received in this life, the best guidance, training and support than anyone could possibly wish for. It's sounds like a cliché, but it's not.

I know for a fact that angels exist.

Network of Prayers

2009-04-14T16:01:00.000-07:00

Time to twitter.

7 Good Things about This Day

2009-04-11T14:37:00.000-07:00

1. Walking at sunrise with E and the three dogs. Sam, the little white boomer dog (who's now snoring next to me by the way) has a severe case of acute impatience and had us all up and about at 7 o'clock this glorious morning.

2. Seeing the first white butterfly this year, in our garden.

3. Giggling about nocturnal text messaging with my friend Majsan about whether to embrace spring like a long lost love or just a shag. Majsan is a well kept secret in this world...she's Mother Mary meets the Essence of Rock'n Roll. God bless her.

4. Prosecco by La Pieve. If you have any chance of getting hold of it, don't waste time reading this post. Run.

5. Ice-cream by Australian, Belgian Chocolate. If you have any chance of getting hold of it, don't waste time reading this post. Run.

6. "Why Georgia" by John Mayer. Which is totally unhip, I know, but I love that song.

7. A nap in the garden...after the Prosecco...ehum.

Grace Under Pressure

2009-04-09T02:53:00.000-07:00

My friend writes about Grace*. I'm glad I'm reminded today.

I sometimes feel as if I am standing on the threshold by an open door. Aware of the limitations of ego mechanisms, the limitations of "thinking" your way out of problems. To "solve"things, "deal with" things. But obviously not quite able to unclench my hands and let things flow from a bigger perspective.

I don't want to "fix", "solve", "improve" or "deal with" for example my financial situation. I'm completely fed up with it. I've reached inside for creativity, inspiration and positive energy so many times. To find new solutions. Create abundance. But now I have the feeling I'm eating soup with a fork.

I want to let go. To breathe deeply. Celebrate my life and the fact that I'm a young (well) and healthy person with a ridiculous amount of love in her heart. Paint paintings. Treat people with the methode my brother taught me. Write. Travel.

I don't mind struggling. But not this way. I am living something too small, too limited. I can feel the space outside of that open door.

I refuse to think today. To worry. I hold on to what I believe and what my friend put into words by quoting Bono: "Because grace makes beauty out of ugly things".

Love.

*Magnus Sundell, Cordia bloggar.

The Coming Out of a Word Nerd

2009-04-06T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'm a word nerd. And proud of it. Seriously, I can chew on a word for days or even weeks. The way some people meditate on melodies (I do that too), I dwell on the sounds, vibe and meaning of certain words.

When I returned to Sweden a few years ago, I was (other than brushing up on my seduction skills) recharging en refilling my reserves of rich, abundant Swedish nature and also, linked to that, my mother language. I spent the whole summer either island hopping in the Stockholm archipelago or in auntie Kina's garden, with occasional excursions to Zeta's Garden (my aunt's only addiction besides working). There you can buy any old plant on the planet you might want or need. Once you're done spending too much money, you can eat huge pieces of homemade pie washed away with just as huge caffe lattes on their terrace. It's lovely.

That summer I was...speachless. Moved. Overwhelmed. By the nature of my home country. I was as if I was sucking up nourishment from the ground just like a tree. And there were two words that came to hold, to capture the essence of my homecoming experience. Stjärnflocka. And Smaragdnäva. They're both flowers, one of which my aunt planted that very summer. One holds the infinity of a cluster of stars in it's name, the other one the power of a handful of emeralds. It works like a magic magnet, if I think about the word Stjärnflocka, that whole summer unfolds in my memory just like the flower itself.

About a year ago, I stumbled across a painting of a saint with the word "Reina" in it - which means "queen" in Spanish. I was so inspired by the painting and the word Reina it actually helped me get through a rough period. I bought a ring for myself and decided that I am a "Reina" in my heart. Whenever I needed to be reminded I wiggled my ring and thought of the word Reina.

I know, I am a nerd. But it works. For me.

The Mystical Rose

2009-04-02T14:49:00.001-07:00

Synchronicities. When things all of a sudden happen in clusters. Like winks, messages from the Divine Source I believe is the core of or very being.

Like when you come to think of someone you literally haven't thought about for years and then bump into them the next day. You hear a friend talk about a book, stumble upon that very book in the sales and then find that what's written in it is exactly what you need to learn or be reminded of at that moment.

The latest synchronicity in my life is a beautiful one: Our Lady of Guadelupe. She first showed up in the shape of a painting given to me and then started appearing in different films I was watching. I had never heard of her before that.

She is a manifestation of Mother Mary and the patron saint of Mexico. They also call her the Mystical Rose. Symbolizes resistance, offers healing. She is celebrated as a fusion of Aztec, indigenous, Catholic, and folkloric world traditions. But that's the intellectual wrapping.

To me, she holds that Motherly loving energy of Mother Mary but then cloaked in Latin American spices, sounds and colours. And she simply reminds me - to love.

What's your code?

2009-04-02T01:51:00.001-07:00

"No, I swear, wollah, I was just standing there in the middle of the street, and this guy just pops right of nowhere and just hits me on the arm!! Wollah, for no reason, I swear for no reason. Wollah."

This is what the conversations of my students sound like at the moment. It's a sacred thing, your pack language, your code.

I remember endless talks (preferably on the phone to my parents' dispair) about really important things but all camouflaged in what to others must have sounded like "...and then I like 'WHAT??' and he like 'You heard me' and I like 'WOAH' and he like 'I know' and we all like O. MY. GOD!!!!!!!!"

Yesterday something interesting happened. Me and my mentor students were talking about the fact that they say Wollah ( which means "I swear") every other second. They were explaining (as if I don't get it) that it just feels good to say it all the time. So I asked how they think that grown-ups talk. And there it was. In a blink of an eye, a few of my most gangsta students turned into calm, well-spoken people - using words like "naturally", "in case of", "however" and even "unavoidable"..!

Then they went on to demonstrate how grown-ups (read less cool people) move. Again, I was stunned. One of the most charismatic student transformed before my eyes. His posture shrivelled up like a dying plant. His eyes - normally penetrating anyone who gets close enough in a What'sYourProblem-kind of way - now fixating the floor, neutrally, invisibly. Basically, his macho meter dropped from ten to two in one second. He even sat down, crossed his legs, picked up a newspaper and started reading. Completely credible in his father-in-the-thirties-act.

It's not that I haven't seen it before, I have had my share of drama workshops. I just thought that these guys were more unaware or more attached to their code, their cover. To hear one of them say things like "I believe we need to discuss something if you don't mind" with one finger gloomily placed on his upper lip, had us all laughing so hard there was no way of saving the lesson anymore. Wollah.

Spring, Sweets & Gossip

2009-03-27T03:19:00.000-07:00

It's absolutely gorgeous spring weather and my teenagers are irresistible. They're all over the place (I mean, it's Friday AND spring, who can blame them) but so funny. I introduced the "Sweets & Gossip" lesson today in one group as a way to make up for the fact that I can't go bowling with them next week like I promised.

The whole concept behind Sweets & Gossip is to eat ridiculous amounts of sweets in fluorescent colours, a mountain of Doritos until the whole room smells like sweaty feet, flush it all down with coke or lemonade in even brighter colours than the candy, and then use hyperactive energy from the sugar rush to talk about life's essentials. Like who's really cute. Who can eat three bags of crisps within half an hour. Who's addicted to Red Bull. Who secretely plays computer games at night without his mother knowing. Whether I have a crush on someone or not.

We have just about enough time to make sure we have shared the most important things and consumed enough sugar poison to make us bounce out of the class room with a heart rate we couldn't possibly blame on the spring.

Then all the photo's taken during this trailblazing educational methode have to be put on the Dutch version of Facebook, of course. So we can watch ourselves gossip and eat sweets all weekend.

It's a great new world, isn't it?

The World is Burning and I am Doing My Hair

2009-03-26T04:15:00.000-07:00

The moment I am hanging with my head over my bed to put the sweet-smelling hair mask into my hair for the night, it hits me like a pure chord of recognition from within. My body remembers the movements, my fingers find their way - there is a ritual to how I twirl my hair before I tie it all together in a big bun on top of my head.

Small things can be just small things. But very often, it's the small things that carry messages about the bigger ones in our lives. Matters of the heart reflected in seemingly superficial things.

I haven't really taken care of myself lately. I have always been a soul searching type who invests in the lives of dear and loved ones around me - but I used to fit myself in the picture more than I have these last few years. I used to take more time to do things I love to do, to enjoy music, art and food, to travel, meet new people and treat myself to girly things.

Compared to many I haven't experienced much extreme hardship and loss in this life. But in my small world - an ugly divorce, a mother facing cancer, a year of starting all over again in Sweden and then doing exactly the same the year after in Holland, finishing a confronting and demanding study, dealing with health problems, spending a year being wrapped up in a legal conflict, experiencing a beloved friend living on the edge between life and death, being confronted with my most secret inner shadows and fears and facing up to my own dishonesty in life - all took it's toll. I went into survival mode. Nothing really touched me anymore. I froze.

And now when I'm standing in my room after an eventful day, working a rich white hair mask into my hair, I suddenly know with every cell in my body... that I'm on my way back. I am finding my way back to my centre. There is a memory of someone who used to take more care of herself...and of course it's not about a stupid hairmask.

It's about rest, about care, about finding yourself worthwhile.

About enjoying the small things and about the greatness of the present moment.

Absolutely Definitely Honestly Divine

2009-03-25T06:54:00.000-07:00

I sometimes get contacted by parents struggling with children with ADHD related problems. ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, is characterized by lack of concentration, hyperactive behavior, mood swings, anger outbursts or sleeping problems, amongst many other things. If parents come to me for therapy I have a whole range of tools at my disposal to help them and their children. We can go straight to the underlying cause of unbalance or blockage and work at transforming what's preventing someone's energy to flow optimally. Restore the balance.

I do however, in my work as a teacher, meet a lot of parents who are not, or not yet, open for alternative treatments. These are five basic things I advice parents to consider when it comes to dealing with ADHD related problems.

1. Consciousness
Problems diagnosed as ADHD can be a chemical unbalance but is very often a highly sensitive child with great gifts and talents, who has a problem dealing with our polluted, narrow-minded world and sometimes outdated school system. Beautiful souls who are trying to deal with this dense dimension. These kids do need help, coaching and treatment, but they are not the problem. If you as a parent make this the basis of your approach, your child will know and feel, consciously or unconsciously, that you "get it". This makes all the difference in the process of working together as a family to find solutions that work for all of you.

2. Daily energy cleansing
Some children with a ADHD diagnose are hypersensitive and pick up on every emotional vibe around them - the angry boy sitting behind them in class, the teacher in front of them worrying about the financial crisis or mommy who's been so sad lately but who won't talk about it. This can make them hyperactive, make them try to discharge the tension they're picking up through moving or talking a lot, very fast or very loudly. It can be really helpful for parents and children as well to try to become aware of when this "tuning in" happens. What are they feeling? Is it their own feeling or does it come from someone else? The image of radio waves that some can pick up more easily than others works quite well, but we grown-ups seem to need it more than the kids. They get it. They just don't always know how to deal with it. It's helpful to find a daily routine of "washing away" the overload of energy - a daily shower before going to bed for example, washing away all the sad, angry, jumping, screaming, worrying energy. Find what works for you and your child.

3. Grounding
Many sensitive children spend a lot of their time outside of their physical bodies, which is why they're sometimes completely absent minded. They're simply not in! It's not unusual for these children even at the age of 10, 11 or 12 to sometimes pee (or even poo) in their pants. Since they’re not really in their bodies, they don't feel it coming until it's too late. They need help to ground, to consciously inhabit their bodies. A massage in bed, before sleeping, can be a way to pull them back into their bodies. Sports, dancing, moving in general as well. Questions can help them listen to bodily impulses. How do you feel? Where do you feel that? Hungry? Tired? Train them in this.

4. Food
Keep it pure, keep it simple. Sugar, for example, is poison for all of us but especially for highly sensitive children since it makes them even more hyperactive and the mood swings even worse. Try to cut down on sugar, white flour and dairy (use soya products instead). Sit down and eat together (key word being consciously again) as a family at least a few times a week. Taste things. Cook together. Some food supplements and minerals seem to help sensitive children, Spirulina Algea for example, which is packed with vitamins and also balances the blood sugar level. Omega-3 and Omega-9 has also been proved to help ADHD children with concentration. Find your own way in this but start googling and reading about food supplements and organic food. Kristina Turner has written a brilliant book about organic cooking for all of you who would like to try it but think it seems too complicated: The Self Healing Cookbook.

5. Talk to teachers
One of my mentor students was taken off the Ritalin some time ago. I had a long talk with the mother who wanted to stop with the drugs but was also really worried that her daughter's grades would crash completely. We agreed that I would keep close contact with her daughter's other teacher's and then fill the mother in on any change in her behavior or grades. I talked to my colleagues and asked them to tap into their patience to give this girl extra help and guidance for a while. More questions than usual to pull her attention back to the lesson. Extra time to think about something if needed. A check-up now and then to see if she had written down her homework. This girl returned from the apathetic state she was in when on drugs and is now absolutely more active and impulsive during class, but is herself again, is present and more importantly…

… is happier.

Soulful Sealful Saturday

2009-03-21T15:21:00.001-07:00

Early start Saturday morning , the first day to the beach this year. "Uitwaaien" - that's what they call it here. Which basically means that the beach blows your mind. Literally. Blows it clean from complicated ego-constructions, empties you head and puts you in that meditative seashell-searching state. Right before it makes you really hungry, for some reason.

Me and E and the doggies had just started walking down the beach when we were given the surprise of the day. "What's that in the water?" said E. I thought it was a diver at first, but then I spotted a really big fin...it was a big beautiful seal...! Really close to the shore, playing away and putting up a show for us. Unbelievable...! At a certain point we got worried that it might not be able to go back out on open sea, but this guy who came by assured us that it happens frequently that a "solo seal" comes closer to the shore to play and sometimes even accompanies someone who is walking along the beach for a while. So cool.

As you know I'm more of a forest nerd, but the beach is one of the few places in Holland where there is space...where you feel really free. And "uitwaaien" works. My mind is empty and I have nothing more to say. Peace.

A Snoozing Start of the Day

2009-03-18T03:57:00.000-07:00

It's those twenty-five minutes in the morning...from the first wake-up signal, through the five snooze occasions, from 6.30 til 6.55. Right before housemates and dogs start skipping about in the house. Those minutes are all mine.

The psychology behind snoozing is a little like hiding 100 euro in a drawer every month and then pretend that you're really surprised to find it there. I wake up but have twenty-five divine minutes to slowly drizzle right back into my body after a night in never-never-land.

Twenty-five minutes to choose new thoughts for the day. To replace the "musn't forget to..." or the "Shit, I have to make sure to..." with a silent Thank You.

For this very breath, this very moment. For being healthy. For my cosmic, truth-loving, completely insane, fantastic friends. For my family. For all those mad teenagers who constantly rock my boat and challenge my limits, helping me to develop the bitch-qualities that I definitely have. For the fact that music can make such an impression on me that a song will play non-stop in my mind from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep again....leave me alone Pelle Arhio and Jason Mraz. For cappucinos, for art, for oak trees, for Italian food, for lip-gloss and tanning studios and warm, fresh croissants.

For that laughter inside. I'm so glad it's back.

What do you send into the world?

2009-03-17T03:42:00.000-07:00

It's almost full-blown spring in Holland and I can hardly take it. I want to do two hundred things at the same time and I have a heart rate of too-oo many heartbeats per minute. People are upbeat and confused and rush off to buy bikinis and springy clothes. Female bums in all shapes and sizes suddenly reappear after having been tucked-away under thick winter clothes this very much too long winter. (No I'm not gay but who said only men can enjoy the bummyliciousness of spring...?) People are thank God flirting again.

Many things occupy my thoughts and move my heart at the moment, many of which I can't write about. Yet. But here are some thoughts I can write about...

There is a very real battle taking place as I write this...between light, loving energies and dark, destructive ones. It takes place everywhere, even in your own mind. What do you send into the world? Which thoughts? Which convictions? Words? Creations? Contacts?

What you think...effects me as well. No, I'm not kidding. We are essentially one. There is a realm of collective thought that we create together . So if I'm harbouring very destructive, fearful thoughts (and feelings), I'm actually polluting our collective realm of thought. And if I'm cleaning up in my own life, transforming fears, letting go of negativity, tuning into a higher level of consciousness, I am contributing. Adding a beautiful new tune to our collective song.

I am asking you the same question I ask myself, today again: What are you sending into this world? Which is your unique colour, needed for our collective mindblowing work of art? Are you using the talents and gifts given to you? Are you willing to take risks? To believe in miracles, small or big? Do you laugh enough? Cry enough?

Do you now and then give something that only you can give, to someone who really needs it?

If you want to give me something today...send a loving thought to yourself.

Ok?

Spreading tha Cyber Luve

2009-03-12T07:22:00.000-07:00

Who would have thought, but I could hardly be any more online than I am at the moment. Not only am I keeping my contacts warm through Facebook, msn, Hotmail, Hyves, MyFamily and Multiply, I am also uploading all kinds of stuff on esnips and shutterfly and blogging away right here. At work we have a new hip intranet system where homework and test dates are shared and where we can also chat away with or dear students.

So...? So now I am constantly plugged in, greedily watching all the uploaded snapshots and chewing on the one-liners through which we seem to live our lives these days. I know who's got a cold, who just ate a sandwich and who's grappling with some existential issue...without even having to talk to that person. Great, or...? I'm bombarded with important, soulful messages from students in the category: HAAAAAAAAIIIIIII Miss Oneeeeeeeeeell! ENGLISH RULES MOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! ...or the more careful "Helloe mis onel how AR you a'm fine?"

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Me like. It's just that...yesterday I had a talk with a friend. A long talk filled with presence. Like a nice long walk that takes off in unexpected directions...where occasional moments of silence actually is something shared as well. Refreshing. Like having a lovingly home-cooked meal after weeks of junk food snacks.

So now I'm ready for some more junk. Anyone? Moahahahaha.

High School Musical meets Mr Ent

2009-03-09T15:37:00.000-07:00

Monday evening, sitting in a cafe in front of a sweet, creamy cappucino, reading Saskia Noort and waiting for friends that I have to pick up from a meeting. It's late but my cheeks are still warm and red from the day.

My colorful, multilingual, street smart, city slicker, wiseguy mentor class has to spend two days helping a forester care for the woods in between the city and the famous coast line of Haarlem. It's a brilliant clash of culture and mentality that takes place today, this first of two Rambo days.

Of course most of them show up without food (I just forgot) or rain clothes (don't have it), wearing shiny sneakers and uggs boots instead of the rubber boots (you're kidding right?) I asked them to put on. But I know them by now so I'm just glad that they all have a bike to begin with.

I then go through a minor crisis the first hour when they have to find their way with very big and very sharp secateurs. My mentor class is the charming one, but they're very...active. To put it nicely. So while I'm saying a prayer to end the day with students who still have all their fingers intact, they get down to business.

Some highlights from the day:
1. Hip-girl explains to me why peeing in the woods is not an option...if you have skinny-skinny-skinny-jeans and new boots. I try to teach her some Swedish "peeing-outdoors-techniques". She's not amused. She almost bursts, literally speaking, before she gives up and takes most of her clothes off before finally peeing. Right.

2. Mr Charming tries to make clear to the old forester (who even wears a green Austrian kind of yoodle-eh-hi-hoo hat and looks like an old tree himself) why Dutch, older people say "gosh" and younger, cooler people say "it's the bomb". A prizeless conversation.

3. Three boys suddenly disappear. I call one of them up on his cell phone. He says they're lost. I say "bullshit". They're back within five minutes.

4. The work and the space creates room for good talks...the boys tell me why they never talk about their girlfriends. It's because of "haters". Once they share who their girlfriend is, the rest of the class will start "hating". Dissing. So they keep it to themselves. Hm.

Once back at school, they're exhausted and I'm proud. Today Swedish Troll met Eastern Temperament met Mr Ent met sizzling sparkling teenage bubblegum beauty.

Gosh. We are the bomb.

Shakespeare would have loved Facebook

2009-03-06T06:45:00.001-08:00

One of my best summer memories is a summer I spent working as a Youth leader at a theatre summer camp in Sala, Sweden.

The deal was to put together a performance in one week, working with young enthousiastic actors. Not only that, the play we chose for that first year was A Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare (my favorite) and we also had two very young, very talented musicians on board to write new music for this occasion.

We got up with the first sunrays and the birds every morning for the warming-up and spent the whole days and parts of the night to rehearse. Sing. Find or make costumes. Rehearse again. Most rehearsals took place outdoors in the sweet rich green beauty of little Sala. I swear, you could almost see the fairies and the forest spirits from the play running around our feet to help us in our portraying of them. It was magic. Everything was covered in fairydust and the lovesick madness that radiate from the play. Practically everybody fell in love. In a co-actor, in a song, in a particular scene, in the pulsating life that for some reason was stronger than ever this one week.

The performance was great. The music however, was more than that. I still find myself humming one of the songs now and then. And guess what. The very young, very talented musician who wrote the music for the play, who I thought would remain a warm wind of the past, is like most of the inhabitants of the Hall of Fame of my Memory...alive and well...on Facebook!

So not only have I found this slightly older and very talented soul again, I have a new stash of music. With a distinct whiff of that Shakespearian Sala Magic that turned my head all those years ago. I have to share it of course. (Sorry my non-swedish friends, the lyrics you'll have to guess...) Enjoy...Pelle Arhio.

Mr Jawbreaker makes a move

2009-03-03T14:24:00.000-08:00

The first time I went to the manual therapist, I was in too much pain to notice pretty much anything at all. I was lying down, he was busy doing things with my jaw when suddenly something exploded in my head, my jaw cracked back into place and the pain diminished to the point where I could actually think (and sleep) again.

The second time the pain wasn't heavy enough to numb my dirty mind. I was lying down, on my side...with my nose like two inches from the man's zipper...my mouth wide open and his rubberglove-dressed thumbs in my mouth. I could just barely keep myself from bursting into a hysterical giggle. (Let me put one thing straight, a dirty mind is a blessing and good fun but can sometimes be a real pain in the ass.) Then I looked up and saw an Amazonian forest of horrendously long, white, spiderleg-like nosehair reaching for daylight. Oh. Not amusing.

Nosehair, my dear friends, is not an option. Life is difficult enough just the way it is and needs no help from something as awful as nosehair to make matters worse. It should be either genetically removed from our DNA blueprint or simply punished with a € 500:- fine for public display of physical atrocity. Seriously.

Today Mr Therapist kicked it up a knotch. I had told him last time (when I was desperately trying to keep my self from staring at his nose) that I work as an English teacher. So he figured...that he would simply start to speak English to me...? But then in a radio-DJ-hip-personal-trainer-of-Madonna-kind-of-way. And then really really badly. So all of a sudden when he's showing me excercises to strengthen my jawmuscles he starts going "Grrreat, jaast liiift upp your head, yeah, jaast one millimiiiter, poifect, poifect, ten times up, ten times down, gooooood, grrrrreat, liiiiift..."

I'm just really really grateful my jaw has healed. I swear on a holy nosehair, I'm never going back.

The Sacred Place: Shut up darling

2009-03-01T08:09:00.001-08:00

I remember reading an article by this Swedish singer, Charlotte Höglund, like a million years ago, in which she shared an experience she had on a mountain in the beautiful North.

She was hiking and had stopped to put up camp. She laid down to rest for a while in her tent. There was not a sound, just herself ,the mountain and the sky. She dozed off. And in that space, in between sleep and awakeness, she had an encounter with God. She woke up and knew that the meeting had taken place. This is how she described it.

I dont even care what you call that restoring, loving source of energy, that we can tap into. That sacred place inside all of us, always there for whenever we will be quiet long enough to feel it. To hear it behind the silence. Always there for the moment when we stop running, rushing, planning, compensating, controlling.

I just know it is there. And today I finally shut up. I finally stopped doing, just for a moment. Went inside. To that Sacred Place.

Where your inner walls get a new fresh layer of paint. Where the grey is washed out of your eyes to make them clean mirrors of your heart again. Dusty corners get cleaned. Secret jokes - immediately forgotten - are told, to make you resurface with a smile.

And that snow-white, sky-like feeling that you can take on the whole world.

Making the transition

2009-02-24T06:11:00.000-08:00

Once again I've made the transition from the Land of Woods to the Land of Water.

One day before going back I went skiing for the first time in 16 years. It was brilliant, felt exactly like in my dreams (I do ski regularly at night) and after that I was completely nackered.

Sunday I then left the white scenery for ten degrees above zero, the well-known humidity and birds predicting spring in the morning. I arrived at work for my first class Monday morning when I realised:

A. That I had completely forgotten about the study day, that
B. had started one hour earlier,
C. in a different part of the city, and that
D. all the documents we were asked to bring this day were not one of the three million things in my bag.

Bugger.

So I got my bike from the bike shed at work and had to (no, this is not one of those blog-improving exaggerations) wipe off the fungus growing on it, which says a lot about the Dutch climate and also explains why my legs don't look anything like Madonna's. Then I biked like a madman only to arrive at the other school the very moment my colleagues had to demonstrate the juggling skills they had attained during that one first hour. To a samba beat. My desperate colleague Mr E, who was the only one from the English department, dragged me along and before I knew it I had gone from skiing and relaxing in Sweden to showing off my non-existing juggling skills (desperately shaking my bon-bon to make up for this disaster of course) in front of ALL my colleagues. To a samba beat.

I do get why, according to the Indians, you're not supposed to travel too fast, because your soul needs time to make a transition as well. I'm slowly landing here, mentally and emotionally, but I still see snow before me when I wake up (and hear all the tunes from the Swedish contestants in
Eurovision Song Contest, I might add).

I'm sure I'll be able to ground completely here today when hundreds of my favorite teenagers barge in with their holiday stories. No time for Swedish melancholy. God bless them.

Where skateboards can fly and little boys throw thunderbolts

2009-02-20T00:40:00.000-08:00

We're right in the middle of it. The story we're writing together, my nephews and I.

We started working on it Sunday when I arrived...the story about two little boys, coincidentally called Jon and Hugo just like them, who experience a transformation because of two magic lavarocks from Iceland and then discover that they have got superpowers. It's a great story.

We were working on it when I got a phone call from Holland, I was on the phone for about half an hour. When I got back Jon had written this list with things that "have to be in the story". Orcs. Big teeth. Silver helmet. Red belt. Silver shield. Bloodthirsty wolves. Big ears. Necklace. Sword.

Ok then. How can you not write a good story with such a brillant co-writer?

A postcard from the Winter World

2009-02-18T02:48:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm in Sweden to recharge batteries, refill some Nature energy and of course, spend some time with my family.

The first evening ended not only with too much delicious food, but also with an introduction to the different whisky regions. My father as well as my brother know their whisky and my father told me about the Islay region, Highland, Speyside, and one distillery on Isle of Skye. The Islay whisky he offered me, Caol Ila, was too smoky for me, but helped me recover from the acute indigestion I suffered after all that food!

Monday was nephew-time, with the things I love but miss because of the distance...like being able to come along to the floorball practise.

Yesterday was one big gift, Mother Nature was kind to me. I can't even write about it, I'll just post the photos. God bless.

Back to the Roots

2009-02-18T02:39:00.001-08:00

"We depend on nature not only for our physical survival. We also need nature to show us the way home, the way out of the prison of our own minds. We got lost in doing, thinking, remembering, anticipating - lost in a maze of complexity and a world of problems.

We have forgotten what rocks, plants, and animals still know. We have forgotten how to be - to be still, to be ourselves, to be where life : Here and Now."

Eckhart Tolle,

"Stillness Speaks"

A Valentine Goat

2009-02-17T08:21:00.000-08:00

Saturday morning, Valentine's Day, was a beautiful, cold, sunny day. We said hi to the goats and the ponies before we headed off into the woods with the dogs.

First we found this adorable pet semetery not too far from the castle, where beloved pets have been put to rest the last century. The pets all have their own grave stone, some with a story or a poem, some only with their name. "Drup" was called a loyal friend, the poor thing was a gift from someone but was murdered. Bobby and Baby didn't live long. And "Niels" got a stone - simply with that, his name. I have to find out who used to live in the castle, they seem to have cared for their surroundings and their animals so lovingly.

Then we managed to get lost! I'm actually quite thrilled that there are forests big enough in The Netherlands to get lost in...definitely a first for me.

The unexpectedly long walk ended with happy and very tired dogs who fell asleep the second their little dog bums hit the backseat of the car to go back home, huge cappucino decafs and that inner smile that only Mother Nature can inspire.

Cioccolatta - An Ode

2009-02-13T03:25:00.000-08:00

You know how it can be hard to write about someone who is really close to you? How it can be hard to put big emotions into words...? Well, for me, it's hard to write about...chocolate. I...wouldn't even know where to begin.

Would I begin with magic childhood memories, like the way I could taste the warm, melted chocolate that Charlie and his grandpa got to drink straight out of Willy Wonka's chocolate river in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"? How the colour returned to Charlie's cheeks after months of eating only cabbage...how he felt the sweet warmth spread througout his whole body?

Or maybe memories of the comforting colours of the Marabou wraps...the inside of which was silver back in those days. Marabou Mjölkchoklad was a miracle remedy in my teenage years, helpful in times of heart ache, dark winter months, boring lessons, tiring bus trips or simply a nice love bite during romantic cinema dates.

Then we have the memories of eating disturbing amounts of chocolate every easter when my best friend came to visit. I will never be able to watch the film about Jesus that they air on Swedish television every easter without reliving the crushing nausea we ate ourselves into. Every year.

I fondly remember watching the film "Chocolat" with a friend, completely stashed up on dark high quality chocolate and with an alarming heart rate. The combination Johnny Depp/chocolate is really too much for any woman with a normal libido. I highly recommend it for Viagra consumers though. Will do the trick better than any blue pill.

Then we have the day I got so obsessive about the Two Nut Chocolate Torte in one of Jamie Oliver's first cook books that I went out to get a new kitchen machine that very day, to be able to make it. It was worth it.

I dont't eat a lot of chocolate these days, but only the best...the organic brand Vivani has chocolate bars that will make you forget your troubles in an instant. How about smooth cappucino chocolate covered the thinnest layer of white chocolate? Ecuador chocolate with olive oil? Dark chocolate with cream and small crunchy pieces of caramel? Lemon chocolate? Dark chocolate with green tea? Vanilla flavoured white chocolate? If you can get hold of it, book an afternoon for some chocolate quality time...or follow the example above, do the combo-thing. God knows chocolate and love go hand in hand.

Witness of Warmth

2009-02-12T06:12:00.001-08:00

" - I'm not allowed in that store, I've had a fight there!"

All of sudden the lady sitting behind me in the bus starts yelling. I turn around and look into a pair of brown eyes that look sad and kind. A few teenage guys sitting in the back of the bus start laughing out aloud. For a few seconds there is silence and then the white-haired, brown-eyed lady has an anger outburst like you wouldn't believe...standing up in the bus stomping her feet, grinding her teeth, screaming. Again, I turn around and look at her. When she's done, she looks really sad and a bit ashamed. She looks at me and says with a tired voice "I was born like this. But the boys were laughing at me."

Before any of us can say or do anything, the tanned, middle-aged bus driver calls her. "Hey! Are you ok? Come and sit here, in the front, with me." He is so kind to her that she starts crying immediately, explaining that she knows that she's not normal but that people often make fun of her. The bus driver chats away, asking all kinds of questions, making jokes, calming her down until she is back on track. She's telling him about the facility where she lives. Shares that she is sometimes angry with God for "making her so". The bus driver thinks that she shouldn't be angry with God. "Oh, ok."

The bus stops and the bullies want to get off. But the door stay closed. And Mr bus driver hero gets up, takes a long look at them and says "Great. Really brave, guys. Well done. Making fun of someone who's vulnerable. Just great. You're not even worth kicking. " Multiple middel-finger display takes place. Teenage bullies leave. Then the driver pats the lady on the shoulder. "Those guys won't be bothering you any more, miss."

This is such a cold, crazy time we are living in. But the everyday heroes exist. They are out there, taking action exactly when and where it's needed. This gives me hope and warms my heart.

A big hug to all you secret heroes out there!

Among the Trolls & Nymphs

2009-02-09T02:59:00.000-08:00

Keukenhof is a famous park in Holland, Lisse, where people come from all over the world to enjoy thousands of different sorts of the Dutch gold - tulips! A bit less famous is the castle situated just opposite to the park. Luckily I live really close to it so I go there on a regular basis during the low season months when you don't have to share it with all the tourists.

The castle is surrounded by a big forest, small cottages and a farm where you can say hi to Mr Pig and Mrs Horse before you get some awful coffee and a piece of cake for 25 eurocents in what used to be the laundry cottage. Someone must have been happy in this castle once...it has such a sweet, light vibe about it. The ground surrounding the castle is lovingly cared for, just like the forest.

Yesterday morning it happened again. The clock stroke twelve. I seem to live a lot of my life (when I'm running around in urban surroundings) with my heart's compass and the cells in my body almost in place. Then I step into a forest and something happens to me. Huge oak trees greet me with their patient wisdom. Copper coloured leaves cover the ground completely like a thick soft bedspread. Fresh green moss cover the rocks that are so much scarcer here in comparison to my home country which is sprung out of granite, just like its fairy tales.

With a big TIC, everything falls into place. My inner compass readjusts, the cells in my body seem to click into position. Everything becomes a big NOW and life makes sense again. I can breathe.

I wouldn't trade the moments of this deep inner refill for the world. Or a thousand stupid tulip bulbs, for that matter.

Health Care or Greek Gods?

2009-02-05T07:26:00.000-08:00

It's a gorgeous fluffy-white pink sunset this morning. The bus drives past fields embedded in marshmallowy swirls of the ever present Dutch fog.

I feel fresh and new. Probably because the very old, very charming and slightly demented cat that I share my room and occasionally my bed with, actually slept last night. Life feels different when you get your sleep.

Yesterday a student of mine asked a really good question. Mr J is a complete gaming fanatic, heavily dyslectic and has a scary talent for translations and poetry. It's impossible to read what he writes by hand, even what he types unless the spelling program has done it's magic, but give him a Maroon 5 lyric to translate and he will blow your mind. The students were talking about choices they will have to make next year. They have to choose a direction for their study - economy, health care, technique or physical education/security. They were all talking about what they like, are good at, bad at, dream of. J didn't really want to participate in the public discussion but when everybody had left, he snuck up to ask: "Which study do you have to choose if you want to work with Greek Gods?" Which led to an inspiring talk about what he's into...the thunderbolts of Zeus, the beauty of Aphrodite, the victory of Apollo over Python!

I couldn't help but think of a talk I had with my father once when I was fifteen and had to make a similar choice. Everybody was advicing me to choose the science/maths direction, which was "the best" study, offering "the best" possibilities, opening "more doors" than any other study. I knew that I was more into languages and literature than maths but was influenced initially and chose with my head. Then I started doubting and one day my dad said to me: "You know, I choose my university study because supposedly I would be guaranteed a job with such a diploma. Then, by the time I had my diploma, everything was different and there were no jobs in my field anymore. What I am trying to say is, you just have to do what you really like and what makes you happy. Then you'll become really good at whatever it is and you will always find your way because you'll be one of the best at it. Follow your heart." So I did. Haven't regretted it for a moment.

I wish everybody had someone like my dad around in times of difficult decisions. And for the ones who don't, I do my best to pass his advice on.

Just in Case - Confessions of a Survival Bag Maniac

2009-02-03T04:54:00.000-08:00

Sorry about the navel-gazing level of today's post but it has to be said... I've discovered a full-blown neurotic tic in my life. The monstruous, oversized, overweight bag I'm dragging to and fro work every day! Today it was so heavy I had to ask myself what in God's name I put in it...?

My big golden make-up bag - always with me. Just in case I need to powder my nose or put on some lipstick. Life without lipstick - not an option.

One bottle of water

On bottle of indoor tanning lotion, just in case I feel like stopping by at the tanning studio.

One apple...like a week old but it feels healthy...?

A Brinky - will be gone by the time I've written this.

One millions pens and white board markers

An agenda filled with grades, I get asked about grades twenty times a day

My own agenda - I used to have a really elegant one in red leather - now I have one so small you can't even find it, pink, with Winnie-the-Pooh on it. A statement?

The Self-Healing Cookbook by Kristina Turner, just in case I need to check a recipe before going grocery shopping or am in need of some inspiration.

A big blue envelope with tax forms that needs to be filled out...maybe on the bus...? (Leave me alone, I like my illusions)

One thick folder with bills and administration, just in case I get time over at work. (Like I said...illusions me like)

A thick folder with the current to do- list, idea list, people to contact-list

One small folder with letters to God, written in red...on the bus. Just like when I was five only then I always wrote on napkins.

One folder with study material for the Swedish lessons. Life essential things, like the lyrics of Vem kan segla förutan vind and an easy-to-translate article about Zlatan Ibrahimovich. What can I say, my student is a guy and I want to keep him motivated. So it's either Zlatan or I'll have to wear shorter skirts.

A hairbrush

My passport...just in case...I'm arrested?

2 books about Phyto therapy, the healing power of herbs and plants. Two different editions of the same book...I keep both in my bag just in case the information I need at that moment is in one and not the other. (N-e-u-r-o-o-o-h-o-h-o-t-i-c...)

Business cards for Holistic Energy Therapy for children - always handy.

Busscards, hairclips, two extra berets just in case I get a sudden urge to switch from white to blue.

Gloves

3 packs of Aspirin ( no, I'm not that Holistic)

Aurasoma Pomander Spray, good for grounding and cleansing your energy

Keys to my parent's house...in Sweden. Do I need to carry them around? Yes. Gives me the feeling I could drop in whenever I feel like it.

A cable for the camera

Scribbles of paper from students, messages, phone numbers, email addresses

Sheets of paper, just in case I feel like writing navel-gazing articles on the bus...

Having written all of this nonsens down, I have decided not to start travelling more lightly.

I'm just going to have to get a bigger bag.

Lemon & Gold and a Homecoming King's Birthday

2009-01-31T15:46:00.000-08:00

Lying in the fumes of my lemon bubble bath this morning, looking at the golden angel I painted for E almost ten years ago, I thank the God I believe in for all the blessings in my life.

The past week was a week of learning. I learned how my behavior can be distant and dishonest even when I don't intend it to.

I learned together with children...I started a new training at my work Wednesday for kids with different kinds of behavioral problems. It was a good kick-off.

I got two new private students. One for English lessons and one for...Swedish...! A Dutch guy dreaming about moving to Sweden one day together with his wife and two children. Funnily enough he has a really Swedish vibe about him, I totally get that he feels at home in beautiful Sverige. It's an honourable task to help someone wrap their speaking machine around the Swedish letters. Å? Nej, ö. Eller äääääää. Ehh?

Then there was the birthday of my Beloved Brother in Heemskerk. The best, the funniest. Learning, again. About unconditional love. And some completely x-rated jokes.

Light & Love.

Delicious Detox Soup

2009-01-22T04:01:00.000-08:00

Hurray, my body is developing healthy cravings! The craving I got yesterday for daikon was right up there with the chocoholic's deep hunger for a dark brown fix.

Daikon is a long white radish used a lot in Japanese and macrobiotic cooking and is a rich source of vitamin C. It also dissolves excess fat and mucus from your body, a power vegetable thus. It has a really sharp taste when eaten raw, but tastes soft and mellow once cooked.

I have to share this absolutely delicious recipe that I invented yesterday.

Delicious Detox Soup

2 litres vegetable stock

1 big daikon

1 onion

4 tbsp grated fresh ginger

1 paksoi (only the greens)

2 spring onions

Make the stock first. Preferably an organic, yeast-free one. Cut the daikon in thin slices of about 5mm, cut the thick part in half before slicing it. Slice onion into thin rings. Boil the daikon and onion for only a few minutes, until the daikon is tender but still al dente. Turn the heat off. Squeeze the juice of the grated ginger and add to the soup. Add very finely chopped paksoi greens. Sprinkle some finely chopped spring onion over the soup and serve!

If you want a sturdy, warm winter meal after this light starter (like I did), here's a good suggestion: Baked sweet potatoes with a chives sour cream, sliced avocados and fried quorn with red pepper, sambal oelek and ketjap manis.

Enjoy, loved ones.

Time for a Boost

2009-01-20T07:02:00.000-08:00

I'm back in business again after two weeks of flu and a slightly dislocated jaw (the perfect diet for anyone but me, have fasted once in my life and won't do that to the people around me ever again, right, mom?)

But it's definitely a good time for all of us to take some extra good care of our health in this loooong cold month. Here's a fundamental question. How come I have been able to learn some really complicated things or able to do some scary stuff (like move to another country and start all over or leave my ex-husband) but I still haven't learned to GO TO BED ON TIME? New challenge, this is a good one. Family karma is being changed as we speak. The only reason me and my sibling had good grades is that we were born crammers and sleep-restrainers. Last minute method, all the way.

There are some other delicious ways to boost your health and one of them is - beta carotene! A well known antioxidant and immune system booster.

Sweet potatoes are one of my favorites since I have a sweet tooth, but eating sweet vegetables helps me control the sugar monster just a little. A delicious way to eat them is simply to to slice them quite thickly and them fry them in good olive oil until soft and golden. When they're almost done, add sea salt, freshly ground black pepper and one clove of garlic (otherwise the garlic burns and becomes bitter). Sprinkle some fresh parsley over these golden babes just before serving. Absolutely yummy.

I also like to cut long swirls of carrots with a cheese plane, fry in a hot wok just for a minute and then add some sea salt, black pepper, a splash of lemon and fresh mint. Works with basil too but mint gives this simple side dish just that extra cold freshness.

Enjoy!

Heaven help us all

2009-01-16T14:58:00.000-08:00

I don't know. Sometimes. How to deal with this world.

How do I deal with the nauseating, smug smile of George W Bush when he, in the recent interview by Larry King, gives a mindblowing demonstration in contempt and arrogance...? Declaring that he dealt with Katrina quite well? That he sleeps well at night - "he's not worried"? The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave is left bleeding, bankrupt and collapsed...once again people suffer in the name of power and greed. Like in so many other countries in the violent history of our beautiful planet.

And how do I deal with a little girl being shot on the street in Gaza?

Nine times out of ten I trust completely that I fulfil my purpose right where I am. Trust that my thoughts, deeds and intentions reach Mother earth just like they reach each and every one of you, brothers and sisters out there. Because we are essentially one.

Trust that since I'm not helping little girls in Gaza, I'm supposed to be right here. Use my talents to their fullest. Touch the lives of the people I come into contact with right here. Talk to students. Smile at someone on the bus. Help a mother who's daughter won't sleep. Breathe in. Breathe out. Enjoy the beauty of an orchid. Get excited about a recipe for chocolate amaretto cake.

Luckily I almost always trust that as long as I am truly present here and now, I am where I'm supposed to be.

But some days, like this one, I'm wondering what's going to have to happen...I mean...I believe that Love is more powerful than fear, hate or greed. I believe that Light is stronger than darkness.

But how do I deal with a little girl being shot on the street in Gaza?

Family Rituals

2009-01-13T14:43:00.000-08:00

I thought a lot about my family during the Christmas Holiday since I chose to stay in Holland this year. Wrote a post about it on C&D.

Willy Wonka goes Up and Out - Happy Birthday

2009-01-10T15:05:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago, when I left Sweden for Amsterdam, I thought I did it for a great Love. I couldn't have been more right. Only a very different one than I thought.

I thought I was moving because of the man I had met, the man I was going to marry, the man who was going to be the father of my children. There was a voice inside of me telling me something else, but I did my best (really) to fight it. I moved, started all over again. Learned a new language, made new friends, found a new job...redefined myself, my culture, life. We stayed together for five years, even got married before I left after ten months of marriage. I had to become really sick and get a burn-out before I surrendered and finally agreed to listen to the voice from within.

I packed a bag and moved in with friends. Went through a painful and extremely learning divorce experience. And then, in the middle of the pain of dying dreams and illusions, my true journey began. I met Soulfriends. I found a Beloved Brother, the man who would train me to become a Holistic Energy Therapist but before that, a whole human being. A strong human being. A proud Ambassador of Love.

So here I am. Ten years later. Now I know that I had to move to Holland, indeed for a great Love. And the last years have been intense... learning, peeling, making progress, messing up, falling, getting up again.

In the fantastic tale of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (must have read it a thousand times as a little girl) Willy Wonka, owner of a magic chocolate factory, finally finds his heir in the sweet young boy Charlie. They step into his glass elevator, which has hundreds of buttons and can move in all directions. Mr Wonka pushes a button he has wanted to try for years: "Up and Out". Charlies anxiously wants to know how it works and Willy Wonka answers with a huge grin: "I'm not quite sure!" And off they go, through the ceiling, through the roof...up...and out. Off to new adventures.

I turn thirty-seven today (since it's after midnight). And just like Willy Wonka, I am ready to push "Up and Out". I feel more dedicated than ever to follow my dreams, my passion. To write. To heal, work as therapist. Coach, inspire, support, and encourage children and teenagers to the best of my ability. Have fun. Count my blessings. Be a proud ambassador of light and love. Love my dear ones.

Up and Out!

Sexy Salsa Verde

2009-01-04T15:01:00.000-08:00

I published another article on C&D... sexy cooking!

Superfood for Supergirls

2009-01-02T15:42:00.000-08:00

I really have no idea where the Christmas Holiday went. I just blinked my eyes and it was over! I can feel myself tuning into the working pace already, preparing myself mentally for the teenage whirlpool (which I do love by the way) that awaits me Monday morning.

Many of us are tired this time of year...lack of sunlight, the cold, stress or too much heavy food during Christmas will take it's toll. Which is why treating yourself to some superfood is a great way of starting off the New Year. I've always loved the term superfood...who wouldn't want to eat something called just that? But I also seem to have a built-in nack for the foods listed as superfood...It must be either my innate addictive nature that will always find a way to self-medicate, or a natural gravitation towards foods with a high frequency and strong healing power. The OED definition of superfood is "food considered especially nutritious or otherwise beneficial to health and well-being". It's simply bloody good for ya.

Walnuts and bananas are both on the list, so I suggest a delicious walnut banana cake in combination with another immune system booster - carrot juice!

Camilla's Walnut Banana Cake

3 eggs
2 dl sugar
2 tsp baking powder
75 g butter
1 dl water
3 dl all-purpose flour
2 ripe bananas
2 dl chopped walnuts
100 gr dark chocolate, chopped

Preheat oven to 175 degrees C. Grease and flour a round cake pan. Beat the eggs and the sugar until light and fluffy. Melt the butter, add the water and let it almost come to a boil. Add to the egg/sugar mix. Mix in the bananas and the chopped walnuts. Add the flour mixed with the baking powder. As last thing, add the chocolate. Bake for 45 minutes in the lower part of the oven.

If you have your own juice machine you simply make your own carrot juice (throw in a couple of green apples to make it even more delicious), otherwise you have good brands of fresh carrot juice in most supermarkets today.

Enjoy loved ones!

A New Day

2009-01-01T05:19:00.000-08:00

It's a New Day

The Sun is coming up

I reach for Silver

the shining, iron tasting energy of blazing new trails

Gold, the energy of laughter and abundance

falls out of my mouth

like sugar cubes

The purity of clear quartz crystal

opens my eyes, widens my thoughts

And the loving glow of pink rose quartz

sets my Heart at ease

I pray for all of us

that we may burn with dedication

heated from within

by the lavastream of purpose

Care for many

Love a few

Respect all.

Glorious simplicity

2008-12-27T16:37:00.000-08:00

I love to cook when I need to ground myself, reconnect to Mother Earth and her riches.

My latest food project (the personal projects beings much more complicated ones, like being a good and truthful person, develop myself as a teacher, expand my client base as Holistic Energy Therapist, manifesting financial abundance...see why I need to cook to keep things simple...?) is to perfect the art of making authentic Italian pizza.

When I had Italian pizza for the first time (I mean real Italian pizza) the first thing that became painfully clear, was that even though what I occasionally had when I grew up was called pizza, it had little to do with the real thing. Growing up in Sweden, pizza and Chinese food was one of the few things you could order in the smaller cities of the big beautiul country. Enthusiastic pizza bakers of all kinds of nationalities would throw as many ingredients as possible on the crust. Fresh herbs? Forget it. A tomato sauce cooked with love for hours? Nope. Good mozzarella? Pleeease. Canned mussels? Yes. Spam? Mhm. ...and the eternal side dish...raw cole salade with vinegar dressing. Sigh.

The funny thing is, when you have good ingredients you don't need to make it complicated. There is no need for kebab meat and garlic sauce on the poor thing. All you need is a good crust, home-made tomato sauce, mozzarella and fresh basil. Thats it.

With the help of my Italian girlfriend I'm still working on it, but here's what I do...

Crust
500 g flour
2 tbsp olive oil
dry yeast (fresh or dry, either one works)
pinch of salt
2 cups of lukewarm water

I mostly use dry yeast, so I mix it with the flour and the salt. I pour the flour onto a clean
baking table, make a hole at the centre of the heap and pour the olive oil and the water into it. Then you start making cirkels, working the fluid into the dow. I'm not quite sure about the measurements, I just use 2-3 coffeecups of water. Work the dow (with love!) for about ten minutes. Leave to rise for an hour.

Tomate sauce
olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
1/2-1 tsp sambal oelek
(ok, an Italian word probably cry about this but I think it gives the right heat)
about 5 dl of passata
1 small tin of tomato purée
handful of fresh basil, finely chopped
2 balls fresh mozzarella cheese
1 tsp of creme fraiche
seal salt
pinch of sugar

Brown the onions in the oilve oil. When it's golden, add the sambal, passata, tomato purée, basil, salt, creme fraiche and sugar. Think a happy thought and put it in there too. Let it simmer for 20 minutes.

Work the dow, roll it out, quite thin, not thicker than 5 mm. Put the tomato sauce on the crust
Cut the mozzarella into small pieces, crumble it with your fingers and put it on top. A few leaves of basil on top of that. Put in thte oven, 250 degrees celsius for about 15-20 minutes, until golden. When done put loads fresh basil leaves on top...ready to serve! With a glass of cold prosecco to go with it...YUMMY!

New Year's Resolutions

2008-12-27T15:57:00.000-08:00

End of the year...it's been a quiet christmas. Lots of thoughts of a dear friend of mine who is ill. And of my dear ones in Sweden.

I have some New Years Resolutions...

Keep my head high, my back straight, my thoughts pure and my heart on fire in these turbulent times. Hello Aquarius.

Go into a new Goddess stage...which means more high heels and less sneakers, more dresses and less jeans (jeansgirl has got to go, she wont survive another decade), more skincare, massages, haircuts and beautiful underwear. Yess.

Read less, write more. I'm following advice by Julia Cameron (The Artist's Way, great book): It's my job to do the work, not judge the work!

Pro Libertate - swing my sword with words, actions and my pen, for inner freedom.

...what are yours?

Following my own Advice

2008-12-25T16:10:00.000-08:00

Does this mean I get the Prince?

2008-12-23T15:13:00.000-08:00

I had this really thick, light blue book with Svenska Folksagor when I was a kid. Swedish folk tales. I must have read it a million times, I loved that book.

One of the fairy tales in it was about a girl who had to move into a henhouse. She had lost her parents and the relatives who were supposed to take care of her didn't want to. They made her move into a little shed, an old henhouse, thinking they would get rid of her that way. But this little girl was kind and humble and she started cleaning...sweeping floors, scrubbing the walls, washing the windows. As I recall she got help from all kinds of animals because she had always been nice to them and they wanted to thank her. She decorated her little home with pride and love.

Even though I have forgotten half of the story (there was something about a prince too) the story ends with her home turning golden from the inside. Everybody wanted to visit her to see this miraculous transformation of the old henhouse.

This fairy tale went straight to my heart thirty something years ago. It still does...because it holds my belief. It's not about the what in life, it's about the how. Whatever happens, there is always something to be learned. Patience and love can transform anything. And kindness always wins.

Tis a Reason to be Jolly

2008-12-21T14:55:00.000-08:00

Sunday evening and I'm finally beginning to resurface after plunging into the fatigue that always seems to hit when it's Christmas Holiday.

The last week before the christmas break at any school is hysterical - last grades, talks with parents, christmas breakfasts (yep, in Holland it's all about the breakfast), lasergaming, bowling, all of it building up to the climax of the christmas reception where you get to flirt with colleagues for a few hours (if you can find flirtable ones) without being interrupted by the usual teenage emergencies.

It is a time in which to count our blessing...here are some thoughts on Gratitude, my first post on the Canadian e-magazine Carrie & Danielle where I will be blogging now and then.

To dear ones I won't be seeing this christmas...you are in my heart.

Hardcore Love Food for Sick or Sad Friends

2008-12-18T02:10:00.000-08:00

If you have a friend who's sick, tired or just really sad, this soup works miracles...I swear.

It's ridiculously easy to make but thanks to Mother Earth's drugstore it really works as a restoring, energizing, detoxifying, comforting, pain relieving luuuve infusion. You can make it for yourself but making soup for someone else in need holds that extra kind of magic...if you are on the receiving end of something like this you better count your blessings. Here we go.

Camilla's Super Soup

7 medium size carrots

2 onions

2 chicken files

3 stalks of celery

1 red hot chili pepper
fresh Italian parsley
2 litres of vegetable bouillon
4 tbsp grated ginger
2 tbsp lemon juice
1 tbsp cognac
olive oil
sea salt

Quarter the onions and chop the carrots, not too finely, you want the soup to be chunky. Slice the chicken file into thin slices. Fry chicken slices in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil until light golden, add carrots and onions and fry with the chicken for a few minutes. Add the vegetable bouillon and the chopped celery. Cut the chili open, remove all the seeds, quarter it and and add it as well. Squeeze the juice of the grated ginger into the soup, a splash of lemon and the secret ingredient...cognac! Bring to a boil and let it simmer for 10-15 minutes. Make sure that the carrots are al dente otherwise you end up with a big pan of nothing. Add a handful of chopped parsley and sea salt to taste. Remove the chili chunks before serving.

God is in the detail!