Hey! Where Did The Sun Go?

Just like I predicted, keeping up the good spirit through the ordinary workdays could be difficult. Outside the weather is nothing like my little PhotoShop experiment above; there it's dark, wet and windy. Nasty so to speak. Otherwise I've been fairly organized today, and apart from that very lengthy post I wrote in the morning I have also picked up some books at the library, and then solved a few logic problems which should have been finished by last Monday. I haven't been working with propositional logic for a long time now, so it was very satisfying to see I hadn't forgotten everything. I just wish there was some logic in real life too. There's still a thing or two I can't solve (despite the premises seem clear enough). At least not today, but I have a feeling I'll one day look back and sing:

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day

Oh yes I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day

Look all around, there's nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day
bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day

Epiphany...

... is one of my favorite words, and which the dictionary explains as "a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience." I had one yesterday evening, but it was too late to put it in writing. It's about writing too.

For you who read this blog it's quite obvious I like to write, something I even need to do. This isn't something new, way back when I was a kid it was my absolute favorite subject. I didn't have much problem with any subjects really, but as soon as our teacher handed out blank papers I was thrilled. And gone. While I was writing I was in another world, a world where everything was possible. For some reason though that stopped, sometimes during my teenage years. For some reason? In fact I remember a very specific episode that changed the way I felt about writing, and it happened at such a vulnerable period as well. I was 17.

I can't remember what the topic was, but I do remember the feeling I tried to create. It was a story set in a different time, maybe the 19th century? If the story was any good is not the point, but that uninspired teacher I had criticized me for something I knew wasn't wrong. A syntax "error". In a way she was right, the most common way to write that sentence was her way, but in order to set that scenery right I felt my way was better. The problem was she wouldn't think of the possibility that we both could be right. Anyway, a small thing like that shouldn't be significant for me writing or not, but I think it contributed to make me aware of the fact that writing can be criticized at all. I wasn't prepared for that. Suddenly I was conscious about being understood; if she didn't "get" my meaning maybe no one would? Of course there are many other reasons as well for not writing any longer, but I think something changed there.

It's hard to recollect what you actually thought at some point in your life, after 20 or so years you can't be sure if that thought really occurred or if you just construct it afterwards to make fit into your explanations. I mean, I couldn't swear I thought that much about writing when I was younger. Sometimes I feel I didn't have any dreams at all of my future life, like I never had a plan. But if I once did think I'd like to be writer, I soon rejected that idea as impossible. Maybe I was caught up in that 150 year old romantic idea that the Artist's inspiration is divine and nothing that could be taught. Either you got or you don't, and if you do got it you simply live it out. Me not doing anything out of my creative skills was for me a proof it wasn't meant to be.

My perspective is a little different now, and I have over the last years been thinking a lot about "the Creative Artist" in general, how he works, why, when , if, and so on. I'm lucky enough to know a few specimen in person so I can study them closely. And they are as different, as people in general are. And they all have very different stories of how they came to their profession. One I know, has always known, there was simply no other option for her but the Academy of Arts, and she's been doing her thing for all her life. Nothing else, and no buts. Another walked various paths first, tried to fit in to the expectations, and he also holds a university degree in something very different. But to me I think that actually is what makes this artist so brilliant, his experience and knowledge from other areas clearly has an imprint on his art now.

I don't know if you noticed, but so far I haven't told you anything about my epiphany. Sorry. I'm so tedious I even exhaust myself! Let's go.

It's about imagination. And that's something a writer needs. I don't know if you have the same feeling I do about that word, but for me has so far been closely connected to fantasy - things that don't happen. Until now I haven't thought I could write anything without some sort of personal experience. But something a friend said to me yesterday on the phone changed that. The day before I had given her a piece of advice, a sudden thought that struck my mind regarding something she's involved with at the moment. Well, on the phone yesterday she said she was so glad for those words, it had really helped seeing herself. And I guess that's imagination. Seeing something that's possible in any world, something that could happen, even if it won't apply to me right then. I have until now been very conscious about everything being true when I write, but I think everything you can imagine is true. On an universal level.

Making Money

Don't we all dream of being financially independent? It's said that you can't buy happiness, and I agree, but research has also shown that people who don't worry about money are more content. I try not to wind myself too much up about things I can't change at the moment, but obviously I know I at some point have to start to earn a living. Scary, and as I'll enter the world of grownups quite late on top of it all, a jump start would be fine.

We just need that one brilliant idea, and then of course realize that idea as well, put it into action. Invent Post-it, or something as simple as that. So what can I do, that'll make me rich in a jiffy?

Well, a very dear friend of mine actually suggested something a while ago, that at least could give me some extra cash to add to my student loan, while I wait for that ingenious thought to emerge. I do write, but posting to this blog won't help my economy. And then I do have some nice stories that not necessarily are suitable for this blog anyway, so why not try to cash in on that?

Back On Earth Again

I realize that the things I talked about in last post could be a little hard to digest for some people. I mean, even I am skeptical at times! But I guess I was "overfilled" with all the strong emotions from this weekend that I just had to share.

The group usually splits up for lunch, it's not easy to find a place where 7 very different people like to eat. Or maybe we just need a little space after these close encounters? Anyway, on Sunday me and two other women went together to the nearest cafe for some lasagna and idle chatting. But obviously we talked about the course as well, and I said: "In a way I'm a little anxious about next week. You know, here we've been in this little bubble, and as much as it's been some rough rides, we're still "safe" and "up there". Right? My worry now is that I'll fall back to old habits too soon, not being able to take thing as easy as I should. " They understood my anxiety, they too had made the same thoughts. It's really an almost weird situation, being so close to a group for three days, and then not talk to them for two months. Maybe I'll see MariAnn for coffee or so, but nothing organized I mean.

Back on earth again, I said, and that's a good thing; 'cause basically this is where we live! And the transition from where I've been went very well. Stronger, yes. But also very humble towards what lies ahead. Life that is. Everything included.

Today I was supposed to give a presentation of my project, the Bachelor assignment. I wasn't prepared at all, my mind has been elsewhere, but that's not an excuse - I'm simply not that comfortable in a situation like that. (Have to be precise and correct all the time, you know...) But my supervisor is very good, and with a little help I got on my way. I could tell she was pleased with my ideas, and now I actually can see this work as doable. So my point is that this "healing stuff" isn't only for nutty people talking about angels (if that what you think they are), but for me, you and everybody else too.

"The Waiting Game"

"A little girl was standing on the corner of the street; she was waiting for her father to pick her up, and drive her to ballet class. She might have been 8 or 9. She waited. And waited. She was worried - had anything happened to him? The little girl didn't know what else to do but to stay put, if she left he might get worried instead. And she loved her father too much, as children often do, to let him suffer. Being protected from that anxiety and pain, he was also deprived of the moment of honesty where he had to face his daughter for letting her down. 'Cause she waited, like the nice little girl she was, until he showed up. Every time. So many hours.

Her father was the best a father could be. There wasn't a question he couldn't answer, and if not at first, he sought the books and encyclopedias, at home or at the library. He was exciting and resourceful. Understanding and compassionate. Reliable. Hey! Wait a little! This doesn't sound right, does it? How could he let her daughter stand there, alone, waiting for hours? Just because he got so caught up in his job he couldn't leave? Was that being reliable?

Well, the world isn't black and white, and the girls still thinks of her father as the best she could have. She still loves that old man. But he did teach her "the Waiting Game", a cruel game in her life where the rules are set. She waits patiently, and she isn't important enough to be prioritized. When she's then finally met, she'll even supply the excuses for those who hurts her."

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

This was one of the stories that came up during the weekend; I have just spent three whole days digging deep into myself and my emotions. But as our course leader is saying: "This is not a therapy group, but in order for you to become good therapists, you need to be able to recognize other people's feelings and traumas as well."

In many ways this week end was a very painful experience. A lot of tears, but also a many breakthroughs. We were asked to search for "the inner child", to remember feelings from long, long ago. I haven't been seriously abused in any way, and I wasn't an unwanted child, nor was I neglected. I was loved, that is a fact I've never doubted, and I've always thought that was all that was needed. The point here is not to prove it otherwise, but that it's possible to still get hurt. Even if your loved. Seeing that, I can finally understand where some of my destructive patterns originates from. And hopefully change them.

As an Angelos therapist you're learning to heal. Yes, it can be taught. It's not magic, although experiencing it truly feels magic. In fact, everybody has the power to heal. Of course you have to believe in yourself and that you can. That is actually the hardest part for me, I have sincere doubts all the way. But to finish it off I'll share with you what happened today, and I must say I feel blessed in away:

For the first time we were going to practice a few basic healing techniques. We were all very excited but also anxious. How on earth were we going to do this? We worked in pairs, alternating being "client" and "therapist", and I was paired up with Chris. I'll skip all the details, but the two sessions we had each were ended by holding the "clients" feet. During the actual healing I didn't feel I was doing much good, pretty useless to be frank, but while holding his feet I got this strange feeling I wanted to give him the sun, and I tried to picture it really bright and yellow. Chris is usually a very cheerful guy, always with a quirky little smile, but for three days now he'd been very sad and down.

After the second round we were supposed to share our experiences, and with a tear in the corner of his eye he smiled to me and said: "Thank you! You gave me the first sunshine I had this whole weekend. You gave me a very sweet memory from my childhood." Wow! Where I had felt inadequate, he had sensed the warm and loving energy that lies within healing. And it came through my hands! Now that is something to be grateful for, don't you think?

Telling Time

I'm not sure my son really appreciate this photo of him, but this was the only one I managed to get, when he was home last weekend. First leave since he started, and I must admit I was a little proud. I didn't think I was going to see him again that soon, but apparently he needs to go home and get some money. Not for beer, but for a necessary accessory, which the Navy isn't supplying. And now we could use some help. I guess there aren't that many applicable to answer, so I'm sorry for being so blunt here.

They're told that they need to carry a watch for the field week. What should he buy? Just a simple watch that basically shows the time, and hopefully lasts through the week? I can almost hear the answer to that question myself... But how much do we need to spend? Any other important aspects to consider?

I'm grateful for any input here, so please feel free.

Bye for now, I'm soon off to my "alternative" course, which mean I'll have the whole day away from the computer. That's a nice break. Very soon I'll need to take permanent camp in front of the machine in order to fulfill my assignment...

The Wonders Of Water

Accordingly to Dr. F. Batmanghelidj water is the cure for every disorder in your body, and the way he explains it, it really sounds convincing. I'm not sure to which extent I believe in that, but apart from other miracle cures, this one won't harm you. If you don't drink gallons of it, that is. Or drown in it, of course, but that's a different story altogether.

Yesterday I spent three hours at the emergency. Not that it was that urgent, but trying to get hold of your family doctor on short notice here in Norway is almost an impossible task. So even for such a "minor" thing as Conjunctivitis there seem to be no other way. For two weeks now I've been trying to keep this flue at bay, and various symptoms have been replacing each other. Salt water spray for the nose worked fine, and herbal tea soothed my sore throat. (My brother also suggested some Cognac, and if it worked or not I don't know, but it sure was funnier.) But when I woke up all red eyed yesterday I realized I couldn't fight this by myself.

Most of the time was spent waiting, the actual appointment with the doctor was over fairly quickly. I was led in to an examination room by a nurse, she took the temperature, and then I waited for a couple of minutes more. The doctor came in and asked all his questions, and soon I was standing breathing heavily on the floor with my shirt lifted. "Deeper!" he said. "Take deep breaths." I tried the best I could, and I guess he was pleased with what he heard, and the only thing he prescribed were the drops for the eye infection. I was very happy about that, didn't want to be put on antibiotics. I told him how I liked to use salt water for my nose and eyes, and he agreed what a fantastic remedy that is. While he sat at the computer writing the prescription he said: it's even good to soak in, how about two weeks in Greece, maybe I should order that for you? "Yes, yes!" I nodded eagerly. He smiled back. "But you need to be accompanied by a doctor."

Had I been 17 I'd probably wouldn't have noticed, and if I'd been 83 I'd think "What a charming young man", but at 42 I think he was just being quite funny.

And now for something completely different. My daughter showed me this site blogthings where there are like a zillion more or less stupid tests to take, and I took this one - "What Should Your Superpower Be?" And the result? Hold on to your hat:

Your Superpower Should Be Mind Reading

You are brilliant, insightful, and intuitive. You understand people better than they would like to be understood. Highly sensitive, you are good at putting together seemingly irrelevant details. You figure out what's going on before anyone knows that anything is going on! Why you would be a good superhero: You don't care what people think, and you'd do whatever needed to be done Your biggest problem as a superhero: Feeling even more isolated than you do now

What Should Your Superpower Be?

Water Ripples

On Friendship

That title is certainly not my own invention; both Cicero and Montaigne have used them. And I am certainly not attempting to write anything as erudite and extensive as they did either, merely share with you a few reflections of mine.

One of my absolutely best friends (since I don't intend to rate them), just recently moved to a new house. She's now living 51 km away, and Wednesday almost a fortnight ago I went there for the first time. We'd been joking about The Distance ever since they knew they were moving, laughed about going for ever and ever, and then to the end of the world and beyond; but from the moment I started to drive I felt such a joy, knowing I was driving to a friend. A friend who wanted to see me. And for that I could travel to the moon.

The drive itself was also a treat. Although the weather was awful (as I crossed the bridge the wind speed warning system showed 15 m/s), I enjoyed sitting behind the wheel, thinking and reflecting about important things (and people) in my life. Already from the start I had this distinct feeling that something extraordinary was happening, sometimes I do that. I had a revelation. I was thinking about someone special to me, and asked myself why he's so special. I don't think I've really defined that before, and perhaps that shouldn't be necessary at all. But suddenly I got this strange feeling that he might be a little mistaken about this why, and that it somehow made a difference. It felt really good to have that clear to me, and I think I might have been so focused on him and that insight, that he tuned in on that where ever he were... Crazy thought maybe, but I had sense of connection and understanding there for a moment.

The visit at my friends house was definitely worth the trip; coffee, sandwiches, olives and stimulating conversation - what more could you ask for? Just as I was about to leave, she told me she was especially happy for me being the first guest to their house, and my heart was filled with warmth. We're not always telling each other how much we care for each other as friends, we just are, but when it happens it means something.

I mentioned Cicero at the beginning so why not quote him?:

Now friendship may be thus defined: a complete accord on all subjects human and divine, joined with mutual good will and affection. And with the exception of wisdom, I am inclined to think nothing better than this has been given to man by the immortal gods. There are people who give the palm to riches or to good health, or to power and office, many even to sensual pleasures. This last is the ideal of brute beasts; and of the others we may say that they are frail and uncertain, and depend less on our own prudence than on the caprice of fortune. Then there are those who find the "chief good" in virtue. Well, that is a noble doctrine. But the very virtue they talk of is the parent and preserver of friendship, and without it friendship cannot possibly exist.

I'm not a huge fan of Oprah, but sometimes she does have interesting guests, like a few nights ago when Seal and his wife, supermodel Heidi Klum, was there. I didn't watch the whole show, but I caught something Seal said that really made sense. He proclaimed his love for his wife, but also made a particular point in stating her as his best friend. In his opinion, and this where I agree, you should treat your partner the same way as you treat any good friend. And how true isn't that? It's scary to think of how bad we can treat the one that should be the closest, where we'd never lie, cheat, deceive, abuse or neglect a friend.

I promised you to be short, didn't make it really, so I think I'll finish now by quoting Carl Jung:

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

A Quick And Painful Experience

Oh boy, am I glad I don't have to take that course! "Introduction to the Philosophy of Mind", seemed more like an introduction to "How to waste your Time". Sorry, that was mean, and I know I'm absolutely in no position to criticize any professor. I'm sure his knowledge stretches very far and wide, but if he, at the age of 65, still is so nervous that he stutters with his eyes shut, well, I'll leave. Childish perhaps, but the poor man just didn't make any sense. Then it could be my abilities, of course, by judging from the other students reactions I don't think so. It was supposed to be an introductory course, after all. In my opinion a good lecturer knows how to simplify his message and engage the students. A lot of mumbling and confusing ideas, it was. Enough said about that.

Now I'm down to two choices, but the smartest is probably to stick to "Logic". Although the lecture I went to yesterday (Critical Approaches to Information Technology and Society) was very interesting, the course itself requires a lot of attendance, collaborating, and presentations. All which in turn means I'll have very little to go on if life decides to f¤&#% with me again. Me myself have no plans of misery, but sometimes things happen beyound control, so I better play safe, I think.

True Friends

I also have some words to write about friends, but I don't have the time now. I'm soon off to the university for my third "evaluation lecture" this week - An Introduction to the Philosophy of Mind. 'Til then...

A State Of Extreme Distress

No, not me, but that is the explanation found at Dictionary.com for "Dire Straits". They disbanded in 1995 and Mark Knopfler went solo. He'll be playing in Bergen the 21st of April, and when I checked this morning there were still tickets available...

Another Year, Another Choice

There's no way back now, and I have to finish my degree this year. One course is already fixed, as that is my Bachelor assignment, but I still have to choose another one in order to fulfill my obligations. At this point I have three different in mind, and I thought I'd attend the lectures of all of them this week. To try them out, so to speak, making the choice easier. It wouldn't surprise me though if I'll stick to the one I went to today: Logic, Language- and Science Philosophy. How nice for a change to study something where you're either wrong or right! Clean and tidy answers. True or false. And no essay-writing, which means I can totally concentrate all academic writing into just the one paper. But all in all they're absolutely connected - a well written academic paper, or any discussion for that matter, is based on sound arguments. The trick is to get the premises right, and hopefully this course will teach me that. It almost sounds like I'm rather enthusiastic and inspired right now? Think I am, actually! I do wonder why... :) :) :)

Thin Ice

I've written before about my grandfather, but that was the one on my father's side, and now I want to tell you something about the other one. His name was John, and he was extremely resourceful but also a very gentle man. And did always have a joke on hand. Where all his funny stories came from was a mystery, and even in his 90's he made us laugh of something we'd never heard before.

This man was a hard working man, and he'd be outdoors whenever he could, riding his bike in summer and skiing in winter. When not working of course. Never complained about anything, and we almost lost him once when he'd fallen and hit his head without telling grandma, nor anyone else for that matter. Weeks later he started to be very disoriented and "senile". But luckily there were doctors who wouldn't settle for an age related diagnose, and they found out that he had a large clot of blood pressuring inside his skull. It was removed (the clot - not his skull!), he wore a funny wig for a couple of weeks, and was soon restored to his old giggly self and active life. This was sometime in the 80's, and he lived on for another twenty or so years, in the end without his dear Sonja, my lovely grandmother. (But her story will be for another day.)

Nothing could stop him, and at 85 he still rode his bike to the next town if the meatloaf was cheaper there. Not because he was cheap, he just liked the challenge. He also carried a great love for fishing, all year round, and that was actually the inspiration for this post.

No one could walk on ice like he could, no one else would dare to step out on as thin ice as he did. That got me thinking. You have to be careful. Obviously. But you would also have to be planning ahead, knowing your surroundings and the elements; where the currents are, the depths and shallows. Avoiding the weaker areas where the reeds grow. In a sense you have to communicate with the ice, listen to sounds it makes when it's under too much pressure. With any squealing or cracking noise you'd better stop, relax and then step back a little. At least the ice was safe where you came from. And then you'd find a safer route, if possible. If not - you'd just go back home, and then try again another day. There's always later.

And maybe his granddaughter will walk on water too one day.

My Little Soldier Boy

Another evidence that time flies; my son is suddenly all grown up and is leaving tomorrow for Madlaleiren, to do his military service. Next time I'll see him, he'll be in uniform and will also have learned to shine his own shoes properly. Further down the track I'm confident he'll pick up some other skills as well. And I also believe he's in good hands...


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