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måndag 28 mars 2016

The inside of the Easteregg

This is my best easteregg. It is, as you may notice, a Babusjka. Inside are more holy perso s and churchfathers. Only trouble is the state of the egg. It's so tight that the poor saints inside never see the sun. On the other hand, the real ones have other options and are not locked in.
If the eggs we give our children, filled with chocolate and candy, where just as tight, easter would be a hard time for sugarlovers.
When I was a child, there where two periods to get extra candy. Around christmas where swedish children dress in white and sing Luciasongs to make way for the christchild. Walking from door to door, stairway after stairway, people wouldn' t get rid of these singing little brats unless smilingly giving us candy, money or gingerbread.
At easter we dressed up as witches or something similar, red cheeks and baskets and feathers. We called out Happy Easter to anyone who dared open the door and hoped for candy.

Today,the christian angel of easter has disappeared somewhat. We decorate, cook, bake and eat all we can muster. Many considder easter a better holiday because there is no rush about expensive gifts in fancy wrappings, i e the inner meaning of christmas...To celebrate easter is a real joy actually, it means life and light in the middle of all this darkness.
Only, while we were eating and celebrating in our quiet part of the world, other forces blew away the light and joy. Yesterday Lahore was the next goal. 
Easter may have lost some of its meaning to many, but to the families in  that park, easter was a celebrationday.
That terrible deed took the light away. Darkness fell over the world once again. The police calked them Soft goals. Indeed.
The christian history is filled with martyres, many more unwillingly added this day.
Once again we are faced with the unbelievable. 
But life is still stronger, light can't be covered forever, new sisters and brothers need our faith and strenght. We will not bend.
My easteregg is made of wood and is lovingly decorated. Just as the love in the world now seem hard to reach and enjoy, just as the other pictures in my egg, we have to keep hoping that it's stronger than anything. We keep fighting to open the treasures of compassion and grace. 
I still want to wish you happy Easter.
And when I do my heart cries for the people of Lahore.

torsdag 24 mars 2016

My coach is for life!


So today the bad hip with owner included took a trip to the physioterapist for a checkout. Yes I does have a name, but you probably don't know him. He strikes me as rather young, very casual in his approach but don't missjudge, this boy knows what he is doing. So, back to my homework and a little more than that, good advice and healthy instructions. No shortcuts.

If life in general could be coached in the same fashion, wouldn't it be nice?
Oh there are coaches for all kinds of things, some are good I'm sure, but life does take many strikes.
Normally, we are often stronger than we thought and braver as well, but how far can it take us in some situations? And the coach needs to be payed, is that a lifelong commitment?

People that right now suffer losses due to war, terrorism, hunger, disease or catastrophes in general, may have the ability to get up on their feet and carry the burdens inflicted on them, but they can't do it for ever. Things have to change, directions turned, options must be multiplied and mercy must be on everyones agenda. Mercy, no more, it's enough, now we must mend and start again.
If that doesn't happend, people lose faith. So for instance in Brussels, like in Paris last year and Denmark some time ago, people are gathering to support eachother, normal life goes on, it has to, but no one is left alone with their fears and sorrow. One person can't be forever strong, but many together can be.
Thats the kind of truth you learn only from experience and that's just what we see right now!

And, may I say, it seems that the enemyside is very strong and powerful and will not rest either.
What if that's because they don't have so much time to live normally, think normal thoughts, chat and laugh over a piece of pie, enjoy love and friendship, care for family and neighbours, listen to the birds and bumblebees.or watch the fish turn and splash in the lake.

When evil is working it's way with ordinary boys and girls, men and women, it can't afford to much of that, you need to focus on your mission, your mind must be set right. Or so I believe.
When Good and Love is working it's way it's absolutely neccesary to add the amazement and joy.
Living a normal life where weakness, love and suffering is something shared, you have the utmost and greatest advantage before evil. The seemingly weak love is overwhelmingly strong when needed.
At home, we read Harry Potter and we learn that the only thing that could weaken the evil Voldemort was that unselfish, sacrificing love. it's a fairytale, but like most fairytales based on truth and wisdom.

We won't bend to evil. We refuse to stop living normally. We refuse the indifference towards others suffering. We wan't to hear birds, not warplanes. We wan't to hear the voices of our loved-ones, not commands yelled out in our faces. And we need support and kindness when we are in need just as we need to be strong when others suffer. Can a coach give us that kind of strenght? I can think of one..

Easter speaks of weakness, failure, cruelty and suffering, but also about hope, light and comfort.
And above all, we won't bend to evil, it can't win. Ever. My coach told me so. Because his commitment is lifelong. And free.

tisdag 22 mars 2016

The light of easter and the darkness of the world


I went almost as far as the woods today, just to see the springflowers. I dared not go through the gates but I saw enough. Easter brings us light and God knows that we need it.
I met an older lady and spoke about personal losses and how long it takes to get back to life. Walking everyday takes your mind of things, seeing everything bursting through the soil in the sunlight is somewhat comforting.
This week is the real passiontime in church, Goodfriday coming up and then the joyous easterday.
With the very recent events in Brussels today, there must be said on or two things about this darkness.
It will do nobody any good trying to wipe out darkness by killing the enemy. Both sides believe they have a light and right order to defend, there will never be any real solution in this. Shorttermed solutions, yes, saving lives, yes, restoring peace, yes. But it comes back, doesn't it?
I know it sounds naive, and so it is, but I can't think differently.

I know, we have to defend ourselves, it's important. But still.
We can't bomb away this. A man said on the news this morning that it will make no difference in the long run, how many buildings or other goals we manage to blow up, this is a question of belief.
It's ideological, religious perhaps, but it has to be reasoned with. We need to come in contact with eachother to see what goes on in the other persons mind and heart. I know that you sometimes need to use violence because of a threat, but we need to understand the reasoning behind it. The persons.
We see much happening today, not only terroristattacks, that seem to have a reasoning we don't understand. If that reasoning seem harmful, we have to speak up. For everybodies sake.

The message of easter is that nobody has to fight for any kingdom, it's moving anyway, nobody has to prove his or hers value in terms of neither violence or the right kind of piety. Nobody should be in doubt when it comes to being loved, everyone of us has a value, a mission, a right to be and take part.
Evil can't win, but it does hurt us, everyone gets hurt  so, everybody can use support and comfort. We all have the ability to chose right.
In the ever brightening sunlight of spring we see life emerging, life is stronger because love is stronger.
Love , if anything, is what needs to be protected, not borders or religious beliefs or political standards.
In love lies also the concern for the one. Nobody left out, everybodys voice be heard, every need tended to, without force.
Yes, I'm scared and concerned by this, but I still believe there has to be ways to reach behind and see how much greater things we already have and much greater to come. And that none of it can be taken by force, it can only be given out of love. And love can never be reached in violence, but given when needed.
And there I go, preaching. Couldn't leave it, could you? No, seeing the wonders and beauty of life and knowing that the only way to preserve it is by loving it, I can't keep quiet.

måndag 21 mars 2016

The old folks in my life - part two


This day I had to take it easy, the hip was in a bad state because I had been straining myself all too much. Stupid, but I'm getting a bit restless.
The old folks , yes, what would the world be without them? It says in the bible that old is what you are when someone else decides for you, but it also speaks of the old as the ones to listen to.
When I was a child we lived in a block with several houses in a cluster. We had dustbins of the old kind, complete with rats.
On the bottom floor lived an old woman called mother Maria. She had the kettle on all the time wich made her coffee more like tar than anything else, but she gladly invited visitors.
They said also that she had very little money and from time to time took a pidgeon on the windowsill, necked it and cooked it. Never had a chance to prove it, but she was a kind soul.
So, when my grandfather died, only 66 years old, my grandmother was at first frightfully sorry, she wasn't very able and grandfather had done all paperwork, he was a strong personality and she missed him. My cousin actually lived with her from time to time but I took it on me to go shopping with her every friday.
So I took the bus after school and out we went. They lived very central, in an enormous flat by the canal. Close bye was the fancy store where my grandfather used to be Santa Claus for the customers children. We went there or the other major store. Grandmother was very nice to be with, she was kind and had a great sense of humour. Trouble with her, and that was a problem with my aunt as well, was her total lack of direction.
Shopping with grandmother was equal to spending half an hour just looking for her. She was short and quick and disappeared in a wink. These shoppingrounds always ended the same way, coffee and something from the bakery, we had our favourites. She told me endless stories about older days and as a child I was allowed to watch and touch everything in the house. She had these old records and her absolute favourite was Jim Reeves. Some years after grandfathers death she kind of flourished and when we got married my husband and I, she was present together with my husbands grandmother, both looking smashing with hats and jewelry. We got married in my grandfathers homechurch, they too were married there.
 Grandmother had her roots in Norway, a strangely secretive story with secondmarriages and all that. She had three brothers of whom I got very close to one in particular.
I remember as a child two of the brothers were often present at christmas, one tall and cheerful, always singing in a frisky sort of style, and the other, shorter, heavily built, with a more laidback approach and a kind and listening way arround him.
One year after our wedding my husbands grandmother died, at the age of 94.
She had been a widdow since the fifties, managing brilliantly with a big house and a child. I knew her as a very bright and capable woman.
She was a wonderful cook and made the most lovely cakes and was very good at making clothes. My husband was brought up in that same house but she moved out after a few years. We spent many sundayafternoons with her. My grandmother didn't cook and bake so much when she got older, but she had in past years. We helped her move into a smaller apartment close to my mothers, there she stayed until her health forced her to move again.
The year after my husbands grandmother left us, my own grandmother died at the age of 84. Years before, my favourite of her brothers also left us. With all three I was there when they died. It was peaceful and sad.
My grandmother, just as her husband, was brought back to her hometown and we took farewell in that same church where she had been married and me too.
All these old folks left traces, we can hear them laugh and talk, we can quote them and tell stories of their lives and adventures. Our house is full of postcards, photos and things, china mostly, you know!
Our children never met any of these old folks, I'm sad to say. We tell them to make the most of the life with old folks they do know, namely our parents! But also elderly neighbours and others we meet along the way. A while ago our oldest told me of some Youtuber that made a quiz with older people , for the fun of it. Yes, until I realized they where my age!!   Let's face it, we go from folks to old folks in a wink. Let's make the most of it!

söndag 20 mars 2016

Old folks in my life - part One!


Today we went to our smallest church, maximum 149 people. It's an old building, 14th century, and very beautiful. Old can be very beautiful. I never really cared for the latest. I love old cars and old buildings, I have kept quite a lot of grandmothers china and I read all the old books in mothers bookshelf.
Todays post will be about old folks in my life. Serving in church as I do, old folks are a part of my daily life. Where we live, family is important and most people I know have their old folks living close by, often in the same village. In the old houses you often find people that are actually born in the house or at least have spent their entire life at the same spot. Through the years I've met several that never left home and got married but stayed on to help out on the farm. They tend to grow very old out here, and it's ever so interesting to sit by the kitchentable and listen to their stories,providing you can understand their accent!!

In my own family I've had older folks only on my mothers side, since my father was nonexisting.
My grandparents were born 1911 and 1912. Grandfathers parents were alive when I was a child and they were the first really old people I knew. Their weddingpicture is hanging on our wall, next to the old clock from my husbands grandparents. Greatgrandfather had been a very harsh man, my mother was actually a bit afraid of him when she was a child, but when I got to know him he was very old and mostly chuckled underneath his mustache and gave us lollipops. He died when I was seven, and I wasn't allowed to go the funeral. Greatgrandmother on the other hand, was a wise and kind woman. They had moved in to the old folks home, the real sort that doesn't exist anymore. Mother and I took the train and payed her a visit once in a while. The ritual was always the same, chicken for dinner, then she went for a nap. Sometimes whe stayed on in the quiet room, where only the ticking of the clock was heard, or perhaps we walked down to the park by the church to feed the ducks.
When she woke up it was always lemonpudding for desert.

My own grandfather was something of a mystery to me. My mother and aunt told me of his bad temper, his fierce mastering of his two girls . I never discovered that part although it was obvious who was in charge.
My grandmother was a sweet, funny and quiet lady and grandfather loved her dearly and had spoiled her enormously.That's why the house was packed with things she had found beautiful. She loved china and he was fond of paintings and artefacts of all kinds.
Grandfather was a big man, with waves in his hair and a great beard, several years before he died he acted Santa Claus at the fanciest store in town. Beside that he owned a hotdogstand close to the Cityhalltheatre and all visiting stars came to him for a late night bite.
He was a great pranker to, Thatcher Joe would have loved him, he scared the neighbours and did all sorts of jokes on us all.
When he died I was 17, and he was only 66, but cancer had reduced him to almost nothing. I do miss him and so did we all. It was from there on my mission to care for grandmother and so I did. More of that in my next post!

fredag 18 mars 2016

Important decisions in the EU and also, Travelling memories part 2


Well, actually it's almost noon but I have no better word. Spring is really emerging from every corner and today I took a walk all the way to the harbour and our brilliant little shop. On the way I had a very interesting and good conversation with a nice lady. The wind was eastly today so we could hear the churchbells, and stopped for a while, thinking of those the bells chimed for.

I read today in the paper about the new deal EU is hoping to conclude with Turkey. It would mean no more refugees on dangerous boats , risking their lives. But it will also mean that Turkey takes a very great part of the responsibility because the refugees are to be transfered from Greek borders back to Turkey and from there , I'm not sure, but their future is meant to be handled in a more secure and orderly fashion, hopefully to get good decisions quickly. Hopefully there will be many countries ready to open up to these unfortunate people, in need of security and an opportunity to restore lifes most vunerable values. Yesterday I spoke of identity, all these people need to feel that they still have a life and still have their story to tell. And part of it is here and now, but most of it is something much greater.

Anyhow, todays post also contains another travelmemory. When I met my husband, I hadn't been further than Denmark and Norway and oh yes, a trip with the churchchoir to Germany.
But I had never been in an airplane and that year we were getting engaged and wanted a longer trip.
So we booked a chartertrip to Greece with ancienthistorytheme. We arrived at the big big airport in good time, all was new and scary to me. We strolled round and looked at departures and arrivals on the boards , people running to and fro, bags being handled, buisy officials.

Our departure didn't show, but another one destined to Athens did, but that departure was only about 30 minutes away so that couldn't be us, our liftoff would be some 2 hours later.
We decided to check things up, looking for our travelagency and were met by two running and screaming officials: There you are!!!! Where have you been, the plane will lift in 15 minutes!!
The fact of it was that the departure had been altered ten days earlier, only our names had fallen out so we never got the information.

My first airborn travel!!! We ran like mad, throwing in our bags, diving through security and racing into the aircraft. Our seats were taken, so we ended up in the back, between two sturdylooking spanish ladies, talking and smoking without recess, this was a while ago you understand. Well, all was forgotten and forgiven once we landed in Greece and the adventure began. If you want to know about the rest of that trip, look for it in a few days!
Tomorrow will be Earth Hour, see you then perhaps!

torsdag 17 mars 2016

Stolen identity and prejudice


A brand new day has been running for some time now. I hope you've had time to enjoy it, I for one have met some beautiful people and the sun is still shining.
In a while a friend of mine will drop in and we'll take a walk.
Todays post is a rather serious one, partly. Yesterdays news gave me a glimpse of something very important. Almost two years ago I was invited by three lovely young syrians to take part of their story.
Not only me, of course, there were many of us. They showed us pictures and maps, spoke of their homes, schools and where grandmother had her house and summerholidays. They showed us pictures of places before and after war began. The most touching in all this was their pride. Our beautiful country, look at that fine landscape, see the architecture of the school, the church, the mosque. See
the flowers and trees! And they cried. All people know is that Syriah is a country full of sand, arabs and terrorists and ruins from gunfire and bombs. What kind of identity is that to carry in your heart?

And so last night on the news we met a syrian artist, painter. He has been given a chance to live and work in Sweden for a while. He said, and this is important: People see only the number of casualties from Syriah, every day. Syriah is nothing but dead people in the newspaper and on the news.
He wanted to give us another picture of Syriah, one of beauty and real people. Just like the young people we met.
The same evening there was a documentary about survivors of the naziyears. One hebrew father said: My son came home from school, very upset and asked me; Father, who are the nazis and why do they wan't to kill us?
The father wanted his very young son to live through his early childhood feeling good just about being a jew. His identity was taken away from him. Just like it was for our young friends, they wanted noyhing else but to be young syrians living in peace in a country they love. Instead they are poor creatures from a warzone. Syrians are almost equal to refugees, or casualties .
Jews are a kind of people that nazis want dead.

Who took the liberty of robbing people of their identities?
And it happens all the time, to people close to us, we just love to label up people because it's easier??
And we always have, take for instance the woman visiting Simons house, washing Jesus feat with her tears. She had no identity of her own..she was THAT KIND OF WOMAN.
We have extremly high knowledge of how people are, africans and afroamericans are all singers, dancers or basketplayers, chinese people are always smiling, italians are all maffia, mothersinlaw are always horrible, fat people are lazy and stupid, skinny people are dry and boring, americans are loud and rude, germans want's worldpower...

The real heart of the matter is that we have our deepest and greatest identity in being humans. We share it, all of us. And then, whatever more people want to add into that identity, they must be able to keep.
Proude of who you are, where you come from, what you love doing, that's part of your identity.
Please, let people have their identity secured, don't let prejudice be the glasses through whitch we wiew and judge people we meet.
I am a swedish woman, sooooo, I'm blond, liberated and stupid, right?

onsdag 16 mars 2016

Travelling is knowledge, adventure and freedom - part 1


Another bright shining day to cover up for an awful night, I sure am glad to be alive when spring is coming. I went for an early walk today, they said the sun might dissapear later on. We live in a small village by the sea, houses are wellkept, gardens are wellkept, wintertime it's rather quiet, in the summer all the summerguests arrive and empty houses are filled to the brim.

Walking, slowly, with crutches, gives you time to think. The bumblebees are awake, nice and friendly little things, very welcome. But yesterday we had a earlybird-wasp in the house, not so cuddly or friendly mind you! And OH, there we have one again!!
On my walk today I also heard the monotonous beeping from one of my favourite birds, a slim, grey little thing with a stroke of eyeliner in the face. Swedish name-Nötväcka.

Alarmed by the morning news of new carbombs, I thought I'd start a different approach. Serious issues are always on my mind but not every day in writing.
Today we'll start off with a series of travellingstories. Man has been travelling always, at first in search for food and a place to stay, in modern days it's more out of curiosity and longing for a break.
As a child I grew up in Malmoe, it's a fairly large city, in the south.
Since we were a small family without a car, and not that large a budget, we didn't travel much but to Denmark it was a short trip!
In those days there was nothing but ferries, several sizes and shapes. It was such a treat getting on the largest one, knowing it would take an hour and a half. On the boat there was lemonade and schrimpsandwiches or the red danish hotdog or fried fish and chips.  The shop was filled with candy, well it was paradise. If the sea was calm, that is. Otherwise....

My mother and I tried to travel to Copenhagen or a nearby smaller town called Dragoer, that had a ferry of its own, at least twice a year. Copenhagen was foreign with a strange language, strange smells and the traffic was overwhelming as were the icecreamcones. School also travelled to Copenhagen to go to the great amusementpark Tivoli or ...perhaps it was the great museum....ofcourse it was!! They had a real mummy in one of the halls, ever so exciting for our historyclasses.
As a teenager, with the class or some friends, Copenhagen was our goal. Between you and me, the beer was easy to come by, and that seemed to be a strong motivation for the trip.
The rollercoaster in Tivoli, the red hotdogs, the enormous icecreamcones and the large stores were a great part of my world.

But on my own or if we wanted peace and quiet, Dragoer was the place. Small alleys, small houses with roofs packed with straw, nice little restaurants. Shops with only cheese, only bakery, only meat , only candy or only wine and whisky.
Then the bridge was built and all was gone. It has taken years for that little town to come to life again.
The coastline was seriously altered and the only way to Copenhagen is by train or car.
You could say it would fit me better, being so horribly seasick and with all these bad memories of absolutely terrifying travels, but no. Those ferries were my gate to the world, my border to cross, adventure and freedom. Train is alright, but , the schrimpsandwiches and fried fish, the wind and the sun over the waves, the thumping sound of the engines. All that is now but memories to share.

tisdag 15 mars 2016

The noble art of selfdefence - kindness


Bathing in sunshine we take a deep breath and think kindly of the day before us.
I know nothing of what's in store for me, none of us do.
Today many people will meet yet another day in the hospitalbed, hoping for recovery.
Others are working, others have no work to go to. In some families the day started with anger, in others it started with love and happiness. Many people will spend this day and hundreds more, in solitude, others are wishing for at least a few minutes in peace and quiet.
This day also, there are important meetings going on, for peace in Syria, for the political future in Germany, for the situation along the greek borders, there will be meetings in schools and courthouses,
there will be plenty of options and kindness will be one.

 Human beings, yes. Told to love our neighbour or even better, our enemies. We are indeed individuals, but at the samt time part of something greater.
We can't always claim our rights, we have to back off when the needs of others are greater.
In the political arena, the personal meeting, face to face, hopefully in the same room, makes us very aware of what we are. To be human among humans always means true meetings and a great deal of
sacrifice. Yes. Kindness allows us to disregard what we dislike in the other and focus on what's needed to make life easier and brighter.
Kindness is very important in every meeting beacuse we are not always capable of loving, but being kind is always possible, at least trying.

I have very kind friends and neighbours. They know what it takes. It means setting yourself aside for a moment, keeping back being annoyed, irritated, short of time or simply bored. Sometimes it's much easier, and that's good because it makes me stronger.
Kindness makes you stronger. Giving AND getting. Greeting people you don't know, smile when you stand in line, try starting a conversation, stop by the fence when that unknown person is actually in the garden.
Daily I see people here in the village helping others. When the refugees came I was surprised to see so many villagers willing to sacrifice and give kindness, time, money. And kindness have a tendency of bouncing back. Many of these newcommers have engaged themselves in helping out where they can, kindness received gave double back. Human to human, person to person, soul to soul, regardless of origin, kindness knows no limits and the reward can be surprising. Even if there is nothing coming back to you, don't give up! Practising kindness makes it easier to love.

So I wish for all these important meetings and elections that kindness towards the person in front of them, may clear the mind and heart to a wise decision.
May kindness also lighten up a dark day, lighten a burden, surprising the hopeless.
Where there is kindness, there can be love and where there is love, there can be peace.
We often feel we have to defend ourselves against potential dangers, the unknown, our own dark sides and the darkness of others. Kindness is actually a much better defence than anger. So I believe.

måndag 14 mars 2016

The simplicity of Walnut Grove and the goodandbad with competitions


I dare say spring is coming. There you have something nice to think about, I tell myself, moaning over my today awfully awkward bad hip.

Just like so many evenings we've just finished an episode of Little house on the prairie. The youngest takes great pleasure in the series and we kind of tag along. It's a nice feeling about it, everything is simple, straight and not all too complicated. No smartphones, no computers, no stores with entires walls filled with just dairyproducts, no World of warcraft, no competitions concerning latest clothing, carmodel, outdoor bathtub or caravans. Oh there are differences in standard, many have to struggle hard to make ends meet and the good reverend has no church of his own, but neighbours are friendly, you help eachother out and there is great pride in knowing ones business wether it's pigfarming or barnbuilding.

I know it's a very glorified and pinkshaded view of such a harsh time in history, but it's simplicity appeals to us. For the poor and outsidetaken things are still rough, even if 5% of worlds population today owns just as much as the rest of us together, people are the same. Have more, want more.
If life actually was simpler, for everyone, and no one could reach the ridicolous hights of power and money that keep appearing time after time today, the competition could slow down. We could actually be equals in at least some ways. If everyone had a place in Walnut Grove or Sleepy eye, just enough to feal good about it, how nice wouldn't that be?

Well, this world was meant to be such a place but we've turned it into something else. Competition is good if it's just for the fun of it, not if it's to devestate someone elses life. Some actually compete to make things better or to make people feel good and proud, like our ladyfootballteam taking our honors to the Olympic Games!!

In Sweden we also love competitions that includes music. We borrowed Talent and other horrors that make people cry because of the mercyless comments they have to endure.
But we also have the more harmless swedish Melodifestival, were the winner takes the flag to Eurovision song contest. This saturday the winner was chosen and how different it is from the first years. The older artists do get a chance but are mostly shoved out when the voting starts.
When I was a child, it was a simple saturdayentertainment, perhaps 1,5 hour long. Ten artists or groups in horrifying clothes and gastly glasses paraded through a drapery and a 15 piece live band acompanied the entire show. Votes where counted by groups of chosen people around kitchentables or something and we never conquered Europe.
Then there was 1974 - four young people in chocking outfits turned the world upside down and the competition from that point never looked the same.
But in 1992 when the Eurovision was in Malmoe, my sister -in-law, well , she wasn't at the time, for we were still unmarried, but she was his sister, worked at the arena and got us tickets. Mind you, I'm
sure we were about 5000 people there and 23 countries were competing. That year Linda Martin took the glory for Ireland, with Johnny Logans Why me? 21 countries brought their own conductor.
Our artist that year was the very same man that is now running the show almost singlehandedly -
Christer Bjorkman.
This year we arrange this musicparty for the third time in a row, and this cute fellow is our hope. 2016 the show was in Friends Arena in Stockholm before 33.000!!!! people and millions watching on tv.
No liveband and no conductors, nothing is small and simple but still, the competition is rather harmless and fun.
Now here you have three nice little films to enjoy - Abba from 1974, Frans from 2016 and Walnut Grove from 1874.

fredag 11 mars 2016

IRL - a forgotten lifestyle ???

This was an awful morning so I think I'll just leave it for todays issue: In real life.
Well, this awful morning actually WAS real life, as real as it gets.....
Real life means real meetings, real experiences, real emotions, good and bad, real heavy burdens and real feelings of lightness ad forgivemess.
Real life also include losses, personal or otherwise. This year really started out badly, both David Bowie and Alan Rickman. And today I heard Jon English was gone!! He was actually in Sweden a number of times, why didn't I see him?? See him on this video, from 2013.

The rapid growth of technology won't make any difference on a personal level, lost opportunities are lost, meetings and experiences that were mine to have, won't occur again. I can enjoy Jon English on that video, but I wasn't there, was I?
We live in a world where you never actually need to leave the house, everything can be reached and experienced through the internet and modern technology. We can actually create robots that are almost human!! Aren't we the lucky generation?
I am glad to say; many many are not buying this, they still believe in real events, real meetings. We are actually created to reach our fullest potential in the interaction with others. Tender, loving, respectful. Social medias won't do the trick. Not always. Not even an easy task as getting some information is complete without really being present, for instance:

This week there was an event in one of our larger cities, where young people could find answers about work, education, travelling and finding imput for the future. The halls where filled with real people, and one young girl said to the radioreporter: ¨This is so good, you can't really understand everything or get the real feeling about things on the internet. ¨

The same thing goes for the students that actually have a chance to visit the former concentrationcamps.
Where I live thousands of young people has been given this opportunity and are greatful. Sure, they can read about and google their way through it, but, we are created to see, hear and touch, smell, even.
I travelled along with a group one year, and even if it wasn't one of the worst, I could see what it did to them. We have people, actual survivors, that are working hard to visit schools and tell students how it really was. Too many are now gone, but instead their grandchildren are starting a new mission.

We have to mention the happy events as well, the music, the theatre, the operas, the ballets, we are fortunate if we've had a chance to really be there. I have been fortunate in many ways.
I am glad I went to Gothenburg to see David Bowie, 1983, was it? I'm glad I saw Michael Jackson on his Dangerous-tour, I'm glad I saw Queen with Freddie live and kicking. And, I actually am glad that I through modern technology, can watch all Rickmans performances, I never met him or could have, in real life, but the loss is very real. I'll be back with favourite movies another day!!

I am also glad that we went to see Harry Belafonte, he is still going, but I don't think he'll visit Sweden again. What a show that was!!! He was 66 at the time! Up here you can watch him duelling with Animal, a real treat!!
And today, he is engaging himself in human rights, as he always have, both for black and white.
He keeps working for the important real meeting where understanding can grow. So back to the state of things:

They say the world is getting smaller and the new shining technology makes things much easier for all of us, but why then, are people more and more burdened by stressrelated illness??
Why are people so enormously important that they are not allowed to take leave for a funeral but have to watch it on internet?  Why are people so lonely that it is considdered progress with social robots, some shaped like babies or dogs, to keep old people company? Why so many young people never leaving their dark rooms, living only through the screen?? Can't we manage real meetings?
Why am I letting this happend??

On tv today I can watch a ...well..documentary of reallifeevents, on Magaluf. Yes, young people spends a summer together, with no obligations, no limits, all expences payed for. One girls says:
¨.Well, you can do kinda everything and nothing matters¨
I'd like to see a documentary where these strong and young people spent a summer taking care of and actually spending time with the most lonely ones, turning off the switches of the social robots.
That would be IRL enough. And the joy of it all would be abiding in them for ages to come!

Happily enough, many people takes decisions just like that - finding that life is so much more than a passing event.
 I'm so glad for all the people that actually visit the greek islands to help out, that actually visits the most abandoned spots on earth to help out. I am so glad that the coming generations still enjoys real
meetings, live events. Not only meetandgreettickets that costs a fortune, but meetings in everyday life.
That is probably why young people travel in a different way. Long trips, to countries beyond the touristmaps. I hope they do it because they really want to know.
That they carry with them meetings, handshakings and sharing. I hope they will remember eyes, faces and voices, the fragrances and textures. And come home with the same urge to experience life and
people in their everyday environment, just as exciting, just as important. IRL.

onsdag 9 mars 2016

Writing is sharing, sharing is living, living is interesting.


I keep repeating that the written word, actual paperbound like in letters or in a diary, is going lost. Letters from an ancient past, found by explorers, is a passed phenomena. Our house is filled with letters and diaries and I suppose writing a blog like this one is just another form of diarywriting but for the public. But I doubt it will be shared in 200 years!
On radio the other day they had people calling in or writing in, giving the listeners a glimpse of their lives of long ago. So people dug up old diaries and read posts from them, written for instance at the age of ten or eleven. Many found it both embarrasing or amusing or both, to share the innerlife of their tenyearoldselves. In the basement I have diaries from the age of ten . I kept on writing for years, a few gaps here and there due to intense studies( well...) at the university, but following rather well.
Some of the posts and comments I wouldn't like to share with anyone, some are quite normal and almost funny.
I read about the Wikingbrothers living in the next block from me. I was very much in love with one of them, he knew and made very much fuss of it, like boys do. He was about five years older, I was like ten. Later on there was another boy, almost my age and all of a sudden the diary is filled to the brim with the important issue of motorcyclebrands and helmets. In times where I had no book to write in I wrote important messages on the covers of my records...I know, strange. So I have singles with for
instance Sparks, all covered with names of goodlooking guys from tv-series, like Luke in the Macahanfamily.
The events in school is covered rather well, including the most embarrasing and awful situations when you wish yourself dead. I wasn't a popular girl, never invited to parties and such, so the remarks from the age 13-16 are not very joyous. We had strange neighbours, leftovers from the sixties with a firm belief in communism and the free spirit of life, but they really saved me from time to time, making me feel better when life was a mess.

School was only interesting because of my good grades and some boys that were actually nice. I had teachers that supported me and we were a small gang of outsiders trying to make it through in our own fashion. The last few months before highschool began, things changed. The girls in my class suddenly began talking to me, and wondered why they never did that before.
And I , shy and lowspirited as I was, never got round to tell the boy I loved ,anything. All I ever got out of that was the onceayearevent were everyone should dance in the gymhall. Squaredance mostly.
The seconds I actually could touch him were enough heaven to me.
That last day, grades in my hand, hymns from church ringing in my ears and a letter in my pocket, I cought up with him at the busstop, gave him the letter and ran. He lived on the countryside and I didn't see him again until years later, at the university. All this I read from the pages of one of the diaries.

I still write, this blog may pass as a kind of diary, with no key or password, but I do have one more, for my eyes only. Why am I writing? Well, why is anyone? We need to see our thoughts on paper, what actually happened back there, what was I thinking? What do I think of the world today, how do I feel about all kinds of things?
I am close to 53, my life is just as interesting as any other, all people have a story and every story deserves listeners or readers. So I am happy that the written word gives me a chance to take part of someone elses life, especially when the person is gone. Otherwise I love to listen by the kitchen table.
This week we have an event where people are telling stories about the villages around here and people who used to live here. Some storytellers I know, old ladies and gentlemen. Some are younger, with other stories.
This blog is part of my story, past, present and future. You are invited to share it, if it pleases you!

måndag 7 mars 2016

Gone for a walkabout

As I went for my daily walk in the sunshine, finally the sun was back, I asked my husband if he remembered Crocodile Dundee. Not to be forgotten very easily, I know.
Right now, I'm no Dundee, I walk a few hundred meters with my crutches, and that's it.
Since it's still hard for me to go to church and sit for an hour or so, I watch the sunday sermon on tv.
Yesterday it was from an orthodox congregation, serbien, and everything was different. I'm sure you have slipped in to a greek church when on holiday. Sunday mass is nothing like what we are used to.
In our church, we are staying put. The greeks don't, neither did the serbiens. The priest explained that there are no chairs because Gods people are a walking people, we are wanderers on our way to the heavenly Kingdom. And so people come and go. They even go out and take a cup of coffee or a smoke and then go in again. In Greece, that is. On tv you could only see people moving around.
I like that image, wanderers but never alone.
When Mick Dundee went for his walkabouts he went alone. Adventurers go alone, walking, climbing.
Not a very good idea.

People are going on pilgrimage, visiting monasteries or other holy places, mostly in groups.
When I was a teenager I couldn't find any interest in sports so I walked, for miles. I walked alone so I guess I was something of a Dundee but in the city.
When we married, my husband and I agreed on a honeymoontrip far away from pleasant beaches and swimmingpools. Waterfalls was another story however, we took a walkingtrip to one of the greek islands. We were not ALL that adventurous, it was a wellprepared trip, a package.
Our guide was a slim, brisk girl named Felicia, who knew every stone and tree along the way.
We actually thought we were in good shape, wich was hardly the case.
The first day I fainted, the sun boiling my brain in the silly sunhat I was wearing. So, more water, less speed and absolutely no sunhat!

Still, we enjoyed this trip a lot, the route was beautiful, and we learned a lot. For instance we learned all about laurel, it is actually poisonus, and wile standing in a creek with a stunning waterfall, she told us a story of soldiers being tricked into cutting sticks of laurel for their hotdogs, then dying after the meal!
She also told us about the original potatoeplant, solanum, and yes, also poisonous!
Everyday we carried a lunchbag with us, one day we had canned octopus. The leftovers were packed in my bag, but we forgot to close the tins properly so the smell of canned octopus is quite overwhelming in once bag actually!

One day we went through the woods and saw some furry insects hanging about in the air, we thought they looked rather cute and harmless until Felicia told us they were the most, yes again, poisonous wasps on the island! That day, when we had our lunch on the beach, a pack of these furry little things actually ate the ham we brought for our sandwiches! Cute.
As I said, we were in good shape or so we thought until the day we were doing some rather steep climbing , the path was narrow and the day was hot so we huffed and puffed.
Did I mention the others in our team? Did I mention the two ladies in their mid70ies?
I will now. As we were constantly slowing down in pace they raced passed us, discussing the very important issue of grandchildren. Need I say they reached the top long before we did?
Anyway, walking is a pleasant way of transporting yourself if it is volontary. If it's not, like the ones you have to endure in the army or the ones thousands of people must endure through Europe right now,
I suppose there is nothing charming about it.

But still, Jesus and his disciples walked a great distance, as did Paul and others to come. Walking, alone or in company gives you an opportunity to think and contemplate. Things are going too fast today, those of us who have an option need to take a chance of slowing down, walking is good.
As soon as my hip is back on line and my leg is following orders again, you'll see me walking again, not for a walkabout perhaps, but far enough for a good thinking!

söndag 6 mars 2016

A choice between what's easy and what's right.

O dear, there I sounded just like Alfred Hitchcock! And worse, I have given this post a title taken from Albus Dumbledore..
If anything, that makes me a bit worried about my connection to reality. However, reality is so vividly present that I would be ashamed  not to notice.
Choices , yes. Life is full of them. Often , when people are in trouble they tend to say; I had no choice.
It happends to me as well, as I try to reason my way out of a situation that got worse due to my own behaviour. How tricky is not the life we lead?
It began already with Kain and Abel, Abel having the firstborns rights, Kain , as he chose to see it; nothing. How could he act differently? Abel was in his way, he had no choice, or did he?
This takes place shortly , well, as it seems in the bible anyway, I suppose The good Lord skipped a few years there, but anyhow, man makes a bad choice there with the snake and everything. So now mankind is responsible for the choices. We know that, as adults, responsibility comes with the ability to choose for yourself. Either we claim that right or it is given to us. In certain political areas, that possibility is never actually given to people, the leaders are in charge of the choices to be made, for everyones wellbeing. People in common are not to be trusted with such important matters, they are much better off living their daily lifes and let the important decisions be taken by those who understands them.
Given such an option many would perhaps choose the easy way. If somebody strong and rather fiercelooking with much power tells you to trust in his judgement, perhaps you do, given the options.
During worldwar 2, many soldiers and others had an absolutely horrifying choice to make; kill or be killed. Not only soldiers, others as well, to stay alive or keep familymembers alive they had to make choices beyond comprehension. That takes us quite far away from the choice of Kain. Many did oppose to the voice of darkness and took the consequenses of such a choice. They give us hope of humanity.
History is repeating itself in a few countries today. The voice of leadership is heard everywhere, the picture of my wellbeing covers every empty space.
Into such a miserable wiew, light must be brought in. How can people even begin to follow what is right if no light is there to guide? Love and light, and trust in the good and the true. This longing is strong in every human being. It was alive in Kain aswell, but the the voice of darkness was stronger.

Now the electioncampaign is crossing border after border, millions of dollars being spent, speach after speach, doors being knocked on, what is true and what is false depends on who is in the pulpet or on the stage. The american people have a choice to make, and, the way I see it, that choice will make an impact on all of us. Sitting safely thousands of miles away, having no clue of life in the states, it can appear to be an easy choice. It may seem obvious what is right and what is easy. Just like we can say
looking at any election we don't have to take part in.
This is a choice of great dignity, yes. But in our dailylife, the small but important choices we make can be equally difficult and crucial. Make no mistake, president or not. Life is and will always be full of choices, my life and others are always at stake, in one way or other.
Let's spread the light we need to see clearly where our responsibility lies. Let us help each other out instead of judging bad choices, next time might be mine!
And let us also bear in mind that the poor choices with horrible consequenses are taken by people that, just like us, are scared, blinded, under pressure or simply not wise enough.
Just as we must be ready to forgive, we must also work hard not to let he bad and easy choices take over our hearts. We have been given the responsibility to make our own choices, our free will, but the options are not always so clear in sight. Let the light in, let the truth out, seek support and understanding, you are never alone, but your choices always effect more people than you. With that in mind, we might be able to choose what is right and what is easy.
I hope I can set my heart on such a task.

lördag 5 mars 2016

It's a girl!!

A couple of days ago we got  ourselves a new prince! His name is Oscar. He was celebrated with canonfire and there will be a service of thanksgiving in the palacechurch.
Well, we are glad princess Estelle got herself a babybrother to be proud of but in this house we have yet another celebration that is far more important; our oldest is 17 today!!
17 is nothing really, in the middle of the teens, one year away from driverslicense and voting.
She is still a child in an official way of speaking, but there is not so much child left in her actually.
Well sometimes, when things are rough, or when she makes us laugh. Sometimes the years of safety
and nocaresintheworld are spoken of with a touch of sadness and she still sings Disneysongs with the
rest of her friends.  Otherwise, the items filling her quarters and the clothes in the wardrobe tells another story, the story of someone on the move, picking up useful learning on the way.
We share some of her moments and are left out on others. The fact that we like the same books and films keep us together , we can make comments no one else would understand.
She was born in an akward fashion, presenting her backside first. The midwife, a middleaged woman with long red fingernails told me not to scream or cry, otherwise she would get nervous and what then!!? But still I can hear the words: Look, it's a girl!!!

So, when I opened the laptop this morning, I watched the picture of that girl with the R5 Family , taken at the meet and greet in Copenhagen in october, I was there with her, I wonder, like all parents do, where did the years go?
Where are we a year from now, TEN years from now? She have dreams, just like her sister, some dreams are certainly meant to be true, others, well, we'll see.
As I said earlier this week, being with teenagers is an exciting time, but it will soon be over, we'll have some more years and then they will go on their ways, sharing some of it with us, but most of it with others. And it's just as it should be.
Today, however, the flag will soon be up, the birthdaytray is packed, cards and presents, chocolate and scones, the musicboxes ready for playing, mother is going to try the stairs all the way up, crutches and all. Her sister sits ready with her lovingly homemade birtdaycard.
Still she is a child in our house, still there will be hugs and kisses everyday, secrets shared and grades to be proud of.

It's nice we had a prince, but we have a princess, and the birth of every child in this world should be greeted with thanksgiving, flags and canonfiring from the palace wall.
Today we celebrate a 17 year old person filled with gifts, some in great use already, some yet to de
discovered.  Happy birthday and God be with you, dearest child!!

fredag 4 mars 2016

The issue of mobilephones and times you wish you'd have one, and times not.

A foggy and grey morning it is as well, I can hardly see the buildings across the street.
Today I must focus on rehab, using both crutches and not doing anything foolish. At least, not yet.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with the youngest daughter. She is annoyed by progress. Well, to be honest, just when progress doesn't fit in to her life. Slow wifi is still an issue to be delt with in high pitched voice.
We did discuss however, why the mobile has to be so much more. We never needed all these gadgets just 20 years ago, why now? I remember the first ones, planted in expensive cars or carried with a huge battery, over your shoulder. You had to take turns to carrie it any distance. The main reason for having a mobile was to make phonecalls, A Graham Bells invention was a miracle, you could actually talk to people miles away while the operator listened in on every conversation, or so I've seen it happend in Walnut Grove, mind you, where mrs Olesson takes a pleasure in that.

Some years ago I visited an old lady who in younger days had that opportunity, being the village operator, but she said it was a social service, if someone wanted mrs J she could inform that mrs J was currently visiting mrs K and was expected back before mr J wanted his dinner at 5.
But why we need the phone to be an entire computer, camera, musicbox, tv-set and GPS not to mention fitbit and ...Phone and camera, need there be more? Or am I a grumpy old fashioned woman with a bad hip perspective, standing in the way of progress?? In that case, so is my daughter.

Anyway, the explosivelike development of new technics has given us a new way of socializing.
We already know where everyone is because everyone keeps posting their every movement and action on social media. Can be good, can be bad.
People out walking, sitting at cafés or restaurants have their focus in the palm of their hands instead of the people walking next to them. Last night tv showed a restaurant that actually had baskets to put your mobile in when seated at the table, kind of like school.
I do understand the need for the camera, not for these endless selfies , but for moments that passes away so quickly. Meeting someone you haven't seen for years, bumping in to a celebrity( not likely) or
watching a spectacular sunrise.
Some 20 years ago, I went to Gothenburg with a friend. It was the annual Bookevent, authors and painters and comicwriters and journalists. David Attenborough was one of my goals, I had a book ready for signing and had an intelligent and creative pile of comments and questions prepared.
I also focused on the creators of comicmagazine Larson , but that's another story.

Well, as we walked around, listening in , looking at celebritys of all kinds, buying books, my friend gave me a nodge and whispered: Look, there he is, and there is no one in line!!!!
And there he was, sir David, and no one in line. Where was now my wellprepared list of questions and intelligent remarks? Where was now my courage and spirit? Gone.
So I presented the book, babbling words like: thank you sir, the greatest, I love your work, a big fan of yours. He looked at me, kind and polite, said a few words and returned my book, signed.

If I at least could have invited him to do a selfie so I had some proof that I talked to him, but at the time, there was no such thing. I could have saved my questions in Memo, reading them to him, but in those days we had to trust in pencil and paper. I could have made a drawing, but I think the guards would have thrown me out. My friend looked at me and said: you didn't say anything important, did you?No, but I promise, I was there!

Want to see him?

torsdag 3 mars 2016

Nightmares should dissapear at sunrise!

I hope you had a good nights sleep. I had one of my nightmarenights, it's a good thing I am home alone so  that no one but me suffers from it.
My nightmares fades off rather quickly. For many others the nightmare goes on, sunrise comes and the
field filled with people is still wet and cold, granades are still falling. Sunrise will show even more horryfying wiews of your once so safe and beautiful hometown.
Nightmares that are someones new reality ought to be our wakeupcall.
We shouldn't be the creators of nightmares. We should let people dream their own dreams of the future,
creators of nightmares can have their way in the movietheatre, not in real persons actual lives.

We are by nature, storytellers and keepers of important facts. In the age of darkness, where every dark corner could be dangerous and any unexplored spot of the territory or unknown persons or tribes could be potential threats, stories were made to keep children away and keep grownups alert. As soon as light was brought in or the unknown became familiar, the stories changed their focus.
Many of these stories, told from generation to generation, has been written down, again, the written word! And we can read them and say; how awkvard, look at that! Trolls, witches, werewulfs, monsters living in lakes and deep forests, ghosts and demons, living dead( I know, that still lingers doesnt it?)

Through modern times we've seen authors loving to write the most horryfying, breathtaking, scaring, violent, viscious stories you can imagine, making you doubt everything and everyone around you, creating nightmares, yes.  Do we still need these stories? Haven't we put light to all dark corners and wardrobes? Why the need to get scared out of your wits?

 Living hell goes on in broad daylight, people meet monsters and demons IRL, everything they ever trusted in is smashed and bloodstained in an instant. You can't put the book back in the shelf, can't turn the set off, can't leave the theatre or close the laptop. You can't stretch out to the videoshelves behind you and start Toystory 2 instead.

So why do we still engulf ourselves in horrors on the screen when it is actually happening to our brothers and sisters all over the world. For real. Is it not enough scary when children are blown to pieces? Is it not enough scary to hear the reasoning from military and political leaders of the goals they have and why?  All this hatred, all this feeling of having a right to judge. Being the creator of
someone elses nightmare, how creative is that really? All this human talent, all our gifts, used to destroy, was that really the intention? These questions are part of the nightmare we are facing today.
They can't be turned off, if we try, it will emerge somewhere else.

Horror movies, books and games are probably items that will linger on. Probably beacuse they have this one good quality; once you have dared facing it, you can turn it off or close it and say to yourself;
what a fool I am, this is not for real. There is a conversation between sgt Ripley and the small girl called Newt in Aliens. Newt asking Ellen; My mother always said there were no monsters, but there are!
Why do people tell children these things? And Ellen says: Because most of the time it's true.

And so it is. Nightmares and monsters are most of the time not for real, but sometimes we need to face the fact that they can be and that we are the creators of them , we , mankind.
In the heart of us all there is also the ability of choosing good, creating dreams, kindness, pointing to hope and the end of pain within reach. We are able to reshape the horrormap and lighten up the dark unknown corners that we fear. Knowing what fear is teaches us to fight our way to the opposite . Knowing evil makes us eager to seek good. Perhaps scary movies keeps that talent alert, wanting to break out of the nightmare and back to safety and light. I don't know.
I just hope that our knowledge of what is actually going on, can make us strong enough to face the responsibility of freeing people of nightmares that are for real. I think we can.
The world we know is a glorious creation, meant to be experienced and explored with respect and love.
As long as that is not a fact for everyone, nightmares will go on IRL. We can make better choices,
read and watch the nightmares if you wish, I sometimes do, but never accept that some people have to live in a nightmare created by someone else.
My nightmares last night are far gone, I'm fortunate!!

onsdag 2 mars 2016

The greatness of sharing grief and joy.

A rainy wednesday!
This morning we went to get the stitches out, called agraphs. 21 of them in a nice sort of heavymetalrow down the right side of my person. Not a very pleasant moment but now its done!
To take my mind of my own misery I have a few thoughts to share.

In Sweden, where I live, the focus last week was concentrated on the 30th
memorialday of Olof Palme. He was shot 30 years ago, this Prime minister.
We woke up that saturday morning shocked by the news, everyone in shock, not since the great honorable days of war had anyone of great importance been shot in Sweden. And all of a sudden we
shared some kind of public grief. He was quite a controversial type of politician, not everyone was sorry, but people came to the spot in hundreds, crying, leaving hundreds of roses. And it kept on.
I was there a year later, maybe two and there were still roses and candles, people standing quiet.
When someone official die, a celebrity, a royalty, superstar, politician, pope even, we react in this way.

My first contact with this was when the old king died, in 1973. Tv showed the walls around the castle and a small door. We sat there staring at that small door for, as it seemed, eternity. And so it opened.
Someone declared: His majesty king Gustav the 6th Adolf is dead. Then there was silence and then
saluting from the palaceyard.
And people all over cried, even if they had never met the King. People cried, as did I, when Elvis died in 1977, although I never met him. Palme I did meet, he occured to me as a nice man, ready to listen to us teenagers.

And so we have some kind of common sorrow, grieving that we share with people we have never seen or met. It creates a bond between us. Why do we act this way? Today, with the internets all options there are no limits. Are the gigantic proportions more okey if the one lost is very distant? Perhaps we need a certain amount of distance to the pain that death causes? Our personal losses sometimes seem to be delt with rather quickly so that life can go on, sometimes we can manage , sometimes not. We need to handle it gently, the sadness close to us.

The public grieving, shared with hundreds, thousands or even millions, like with that poor boy face down in the waterline, teaches us to get in touch with our innerlife. We read, watch, meet and pick up quotes and good lyrics . We learn to express our emotions. We are not alone.
In the long run, all grieving is a sign . It tells us that somebody meant something to us, made a difference, that it's not all the same to us with people we meet, love and get to know. Even celebritys can be meaningful in our lives, even if we never get close. We are sad because those persons made us happy in one way or other.
And so we sometimes should be crying for every person that is taken away from life to soon, to sudden, to gruesom. The lonely people, the unheard and unseen, the ones that never made any difference according to our way of thinking, their death is also a loss because there is no saying when someone
steps into our lives and shine for a moment. For some people that moment never occurred, that's a loss.

My focus should be turned from my battered hip to people. I need to learn to grieve and let it take time because it makes me more focused on those still alive around me, learning to see and appreciate them is an equally important task.
I still cry over Freddy Mercury, I still cry over my grandmother and grandfather beacuse I miss them, very differently but still. But there are many more left to be glad about, known and still unknown.
Painful is grieving, joyful is living. Both are meant to be shared.

tisdag 1 mars 2016

The issue of teenagers,lazy,crazy,wise and talented and very much here!

Today I was thinking of teenagers since we have two in the family.
People complain a lot that the teenagers of the house are lazy, goodfornothing
bastards, sleeping all weekend and constantly wanting more money for needtohave
I agree, house is filled with dirty(?) clothes all over, makeupgadgets, used and unused. Lamps turned on are often left that way in the sunshine, every room is theirs, saunas are created with every shower, hotwaterbills constantly rising.
Screens are constantly running, two or three at the time, cookies are being baked with
no preparation what soever; What!!! You mean we don't have the ingredients to the
Peanutandmangobased cupcakes with strawberryfilling and lemonfrosting with flakes of
99% belgian chocolate on top??? But I must bake them NOW!! What kind of a household is this!!

At the same time, we see hope and life in teenagers as they rage against injustice and terror.
Right now I'm reading the story of Malala. She is an extraordinary girl, and I do believe there
are many like her, fighting and bringing hope and mercy into the world. Through her brighteyed and intelligent mind I learn a lot, and I am glad that she is strong, because there will be others so weak that they need someone to carry them, bringing hope in the darkness.
She is already a good example for young people who otherwise might have given up.
To my great joy I see good examples very close in our own community.
The teenagers around us go abroad to help out in orphanages and schools, they collect money
for important issues and are good examples of what grownups sometimes fail to do.

Our girls are both very anxious to make people feel comfortable, no one is to be left
outside, no one to be forgotten or treated bad in school. My oldest has her own blog
where she stands up for what she believe is true and good. Without her I wouldn't be writing this,
who can possibly understand this technical world???

So, why do I have that mysterious video? Well you see, in this house we have taken pride in teaching our girls what we believe is true and right, but we also introduced them to good litterature,
films and music. And that action goes in reverse, so we needed to get to know the world of
videobloggers, filled with music, dialogues or bakinginstructions and makeuptips or
simple folly like Thatcher Joe. We needed to enjoy...Highschoolmusical and Pitch Perfect,
Teenbeach movie and youtubeclips with bands and bloggers totally unknown.
We also have been fostered into the issues of today, how to communicate, what to react too,
behaviors uncalled for when friends are visiting IRL, worrying aspects of todays political scene.

They have enjoyed much of our medieval stuff and we can enjoy some of theirs.
I wanted to share just one video today, since I love musical comedy, and people that makes
ingenious and funny things with a piece of music without loosing respect.
Since we are all Potterheads, Trekkers, Starwarsnerds, Lordoftheringscrazy and Hobbitmaniacs,
this video was the first to catch my attention, this boy , no longer a teenager, is adorable. Some of his videos are already classics.

So, teenagers are a treasure of unfinished thinking, emotions exploding in all directions at the same time, creativity and stubberness in a mix. Just as I was, just as you were. People had opinons about us, they believed we would ruin the world, they said we were respectless and lazy. I do believe that has been said about teenagers since Horatio.
Like it or not, as we grow up, we change, and somehow we tend to forget , but IF we keep some of our written material, we can follow our own dreams and crazy plans.
Sometimes I say stupid things like: Huh! Teenagers! There is a sign on their foreheads saying:
temporarily closed for reconstruction.
But honestly, that sign could be on a large variety of foreheads, grown ups as well.
Life with teenagers is a challenge, but when the years pass by, it feels good to get to know the
children that are our offspring and still someone completely different.