Being Nursed

I am blessed!
So very much!
That operation of the intestine has turned out to be a cornucopia of wonders delivered at my plate –

Now I have “got” a nurse “delivered” to me – she comes once a week for the time being – and it turns out that she asks questions that set me going in the best possible direction for my psyche, to at last be able to pour out what needs pouring out. The Universe has dished this up for me in the most perfect thinkable way possible. And she is the epitome of sweetness and intelligence, and a super listener and interventionist.

• and once a week! FREE OF CHARGE!
• 
  MIRACLES ABOUND

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This is a poem from 2019

I was that little old lady on a folding chair in town, with a cardboard sign at my feet, offering one minute eye contact

BANANA

Young boys

7 of them

Black attired

leather jackets, spikes,

clogs, chains,

hair all black too –

Mohawks, long flowing raven wings

and the bald one with the scar over his left eye

large gloves like bear paws
black boots with steel heels

leather trousers with zippers

where you don’t expect to see them

grinning with white teeth

in a not so comforting way

And then the leader:

He is clad as a banana –

ankle length costume, a small opening to his

shining ivory face, the banana stem

as an antenna on the top of his head

Little old lady sitting on a folding chair

in the marketplace, offering one-minute

eye-contact

The banana prince

takes the chair across her,

mops and mows and

the gang closes in around them

The more he grimaces the

softer her heart feels

how could such an adorable kid

not be loved

No word said

only eye looking into eye

then

universe beyond universe

opens

silent lakes

peaceful radiant waterfalls

after a month or so he gets up

and bows

they walk away in silence

there is space around him

like a yellow pupil in an eye

painted with kohl

Operation of Cancer

There is still a lot going on in the mind about that operation I had 4th September. Maybe sharing it here would help me process it all, I hope.

September the 4th my niece and magical playmate C, chief physician in her county, drove me to the hospital. The chief nurse Leelah came to fetch Leelah/me into the operation-room where the anesthesia-nurse Leelah waited.

THREE Leelahs. I kid you not.

So of course I commented: “Now only Bach is missing ( the surgeon Vivaldi was playing the 4 seasons, of course)
Then nurse Leelah grinned and said and said “My Mother’s name was Bach, Anna Bach“

The operation lasted for 7 hours. 

They got it all out.  No radiation or medicine necessary. Just a piece of errant cells that were removed.

***

Since then, there has been a medicine regimen that I have found a bit bothersome, but it is trapped down this week. The thing is, this Vivaldi-fellow’s energy feels like hooked on to me. Or me to his.Maybe its just the ego that goes ballistic with pride that I have been operated by a surgeon with such extraordinary ancestors.

Or – maybe its just – a thought this minute – that SO MUCH was happening around me – and now it is very very quiet. No drama at all. And no drama queen ( except that I shared all of this, of course.)

I went to sleep at Winter-starting – 3:30

I think it was an excellent choice for music.

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HILARYON STORIES -When the mind tries to understand things – to feel safe and have control – it cannot open to the beauty of life in all its nuances. Those of us with big trauma in our luggage has actually survived by controlling, pushing the traumas deep down- and because of all of that underground activity, Illnesses arrive, physical and psychic. All the avoiding systems, carefully architected, grow like a jungle, slinging their lianas criss – crossing through our nervous system. It saved us then, and now it produces strange fruit.I wanted to know – how can I be of help? How can I use my jungle-knowledge to serve in this world with so much putrefying agony, where frequently the trees grow so dense that the light cannot reach us down here? I have been given a muse – I write stories and poems that may heal and give hope. The muse is full of strength and outrageousness and laughter; it is a pleasure to allow her to use me.In my practice as an Expressive Arts Therapist, the healing story arises in the sacred space between the student and me. One of us start with a sentence or more, the other continues when it feels right. The story grows and we follow, often fantastic and outrageous, and there use to be a place where we both have no idea where – and IF – it will find an end. It ends when we stick with it- trusting the spirit that plays with us, knowing precisely what we both need to heal and grow. When we get there, there is relief, gratitude, deep breathing. And it turns out that this particular story precisely addressed the student’s predicament at that moment in time.Hilaryon Stories is created in this way. If you “try to understand” you will hurt. I invite you to you read by just going for the ride – trusting that the path through it will lead to a clear and beautiful space within you ( and the jungle.) No need to try to understand – the story, as it was given me through 5 years and two years pause – has ability to heal deep collective unconscious patterns. I know that from experience. If you are one of those travelers who would like to clear a bit of jungle, your soul may thank you for it. In these times with tremendous uncertainty about most anything, Hilaryon Stories is a bona fide path back Home – it teaches you to let go and trust – just like it did me. My muse presented me with the chapters in a seemingly disorganized pattern – precisely to give the readers the experience of having lost the path in the jungle. If you hang in there, joining the characters in their experiences of loss, longing and playfulness, I trust that you will find your own joy – the point of it all. Here is a review: I finished the book – and miss it dearly! I wish I could read on every night from now on! The sense of it all still escapes my mind, yet it left me feeling uplifted and joyful, playful and very grateful! When I did a little grounding meditation yesterday, I decided to visit my belly from the inside. ( My belly has been like seven months pregnant for years, feeling uncomfortable. I believe, I shut it down in many ways.) So I let my awareness travel down there and found only darkness and barren land. Then, suddenly it started to transform! I saw grass growing, and streams meandering – looked like Ireland. A change again and it was a kind of Hobbiton ! Flowers, little houses and JOY! Abundance everywhere! Little people dancing, singing, eating, creating! Perhaps not so dissimilar to Hilaryon… My life force energy was moving as a strong tingling in my lower belly! I just loved it!

We all have JOY inside. What if your own joy could open just by reading the book – just like I felt when I was “downloading” the chapters.

Write a poem –

Where do poems come from?

My experience is, when I know that somebody will see them and value them, they arrive with more ease. They really are like “beings” to me – they have a certain energy, they seem to live in a certain place. Right now, when I write this, I have been caught by a huge loneliness that insists at being real. But in reality, there is a well of inexpressible Love that just for now presents Itself as a person who feels lonely. Will anyone read this? If so, why would they care?

They would care if it touches them, making them nod just a little.

The NO-place

When you sink down in it

grey blue, not much oxygen there, like a

nightingale giving up on singing

trotting slowly through cool clay

dripping

wings glued to gale-body

traces dribbling away

gone voice gone

Blackbird washing (Turdus merula)

And then, the quirky “coincidence” – I start to write down the Tags, and suddenly a text arrives 40 days in the desert.LOVE

And in this moment, the suffering has a place to live. I am not a victim anymore, in my own mind – I am going through a period where there is nothing else to do than TRUST

And in this moment, meaningfulness flows in. I am in a process, and I trust it♥

The Shipwreck

• 

This night, this mobile was detached from hanging in my sleeping room window, thrown across the room and crashing into a cupboard , falling to the floor.

The little sailor is the Moomrik – a figure from Tove Jansson’s Moomin-world – an eternal traveler, who travels just for the love of traveling. I made it years ago from clay, and placed stars in hanging threads all around him.

Some spirit – or maybe a part of my soul – who is angry and feel very threatened by my insistence of letting go of fear, did this. I blessed the situation and chose to share it with my eternal friend Sandy. Sandy was excited about it ! 🙂

I asked for a sign.

In the evening, feeling rather miserable, I took a walk around the block  – aha the BLOCK♥! meaning nothing else than the external image of an inner block in my energy system – something old that I hade judged and denied – this was what the crashing was all about. I needed to SEE and forgive this, and now I certainly had.

There was this handful of white wool, barking at me as it’s life depended on it -and it’s owner, a man with the kindest eyes and smile said ” he is VERY powerful”

and that was it 🙂  I  had seen this crashing of the  Mobile as a HUGE sign that I was in danger

 ( I mean, it ignored the laws of nature and detached itself from the hook and flew across the room -!!! :))

The little sailor  was wrecked …

No no! it was just a big storm, Leelah – drama-queen, you 🙂

I picked him up and hung him up again

It made me think of the poltergeist-thingy that often happen with teenagers in the house – their erratic  energies cause a stir-up of energies around them

 -this may have been such an energy

Loving the Inner Strays

I just found this. It feels like Love itself moved into me and stays.

 

This is kindness to strays

 

I will be kind to my own inner strays today They are many and many are weird

 

I just need to prepare a clean new place for them darnit

Hike in the Wood

This has to be the most beautiful day in the whole year. 8th of October – Norway – usually dark,windy, often snow, Today clear and crisp and SO much silent space filled with Love.

I took a long round -hike up in the hills, and here’s some photos.

about 100 meters up the mountain

the adorable little cloud

Friendly co-existence

Full Alarm – or Not

The joys of electronic doorbells and hearing aids are many I woke up today, sunny weather, new crosswords in the Friday magazine, and a high rhythmic dunk dunk dunk dunk from my new Warm-pump. Automatic panic, then njaee- lets wait – may something fun comes out of this I started instantly reaching out via my cellphone and forms on the Internet for service – and everything just – failed. The forms just laughed at me as I had to do them again and again. And I senses the inner alarm that mirrored the dunk dunk incessantly dunk. So after texting with no answering serviceman and some more fretting, I got curious where that bloody dunk really came from – since it seemed to be from the pumps right side. Then My eyes fell on the electronic doorbell over the door – to the right of the pump. AHA – I remembered that last time the batteries were out, they made strange sounds – but not like this. Still, I got up on a chair and took out the batteries – and there was silence. And the warm-pump had the gall to snigger quite a little to me. So I apologized to it, and we are friends again and one good thing came out of it: the last melody of the door bell has now changed – from the famous melody from henry the eight – Greensleeves ( which takes so much time that the visitors have to wait until it is finished before they can talk to me.) All in all, a dramatic start of the day but hey

The Snow Leopard

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt14031174/?ref_=tt_mv_close

Nothing I have ever seen comes close to this in beauty and reverence of Nature and all her beings.

When my daughter and I left the cinema, my visual perception was acute- and here are some of the glimpses:

A Scotsman with a dirty skirt and bare legs ( it was very cold and windy)

A tramp/hobo with all his belongings in a big sac ( I think) -long Rasta-hair, complete Presence

Some photos:

An elephant on the wall -? ♥

Yay Henry &Sally!

I always love these floating undulating buildings…imagine how it would be to walk inside them..have an office there

-and this beautiful lady –