Life Through Reflections...

Winter Pre-Views.

2012-01-26T08:12:00.003+01:00

Some of you might recall my very long commute to the university. I drive a total of one hundred and eighty miles each day.

It is amazing how we humans adapt.

If someone asked me a year ago if I would mind spending each day three hours in a car in order to get to and from work, I would have laughed in their face and said "no way!".
And yet here I am today, doing exactly that which at one time seemed unthinkable to me.

I have mixed feelings about this crazy commute. When it pours down with strong winds, when it is dark and the traffic is heavy, the drive is a terrible ordeal. I arrive at my destination exhausted, my body tense and my mood somber.
And yet, there are times, when the complete opposite takes place, such as this week.

As the days grow longer, I am currently gifted with absolutely stunning views that pass my car windows almost every day.
Setting out, I can watch breathtaking sunrises, which bathe the low lying landscape in pastel nuances of a winter dawn. With only a touch of frost, nature carries a gentle hue of white and yet the arctic air which has swept over the country holds a promise of heavy snowfall.

Turning into the second half of its reign, the Ice Lady is determined to tighten her grip. Until snowstorms prevent me from driving all together, I enjoy the unblemished beauty of an early morning drive - my daily simple pleasure and a true natural wonder.

(All images taken with my old Nikon Coolpix during a recent drive to work)

Random Reflections.

2012-01-23T10:13:00.014+01:00

I sit here with my cup off coffee, watching another midwinter morning unfold through the windows. It is going to be a cold but a sunny day, it seems. I am alone in the house, an occurrence quiet unusual to me presently - it is welcomed, but the perception that it will only last a few hours is also very comforting.
I do not miss the solitude of the single life at all. I miss perhaps having more time to write.

Time and its relativity is indeed what occupies my mind these days. Just a year ago I still lived in the white house on the hill, having an entirely different future ahead off me. It is only a year and yet it feels like another lifetime all together. Since I met the man to whom I have given my heart forever, I try to savour every single day as it was my last - I want my days with him to count and to be meaningful, as very soon we will be apart for months.

Our separation is on my mind constantly, even though I try to push it away. It will only last four months, yet because the past ten since he came into my life come across as an eternity, a time span longer than a week feels endless to me.
Thus comes May, I need to reorganize my life and have some projects planned to occupy my reality. One of them will be our garden. Our garden is wild and untamed and lets face it - barren. It needs desperately some attention and I will definitely be sharing with you this progress as soon as winter moves into spring.

I type this while I enjoy my morning coffee from a cup that was a Christmas gift from the children. I can say in no uncertain terms that it was the best gift I have received for a very long time - maybe ever - due to the sentiments with which it was given. It is a handmade cup with colourful drawings and writing all around. It states "Zuz, the best stepmother" and the word "dad" is written within a small red heart on the side. I still get teary eyes and a warm fuzzy feeling within when I hold it. I will never be a mom, something that is by now painfully obvious to me and this cup symbolizes that this as close to being a mother as I will ever be. It also reminds me of that single fact that families come in many different shapes and sizes and that I and Sammy have found ours.

Sammy, my bellowed feline companion is still around, if any of you wonder. He has fully adapted to his new home and has found new routines in an every day life. New places to nap at, new windows to watch the world from. New people to greet in the evening and new adventures to look forward to.
He - just like me, miss very little of the white house on the hill. The occasional sunset and my fireplace. That is about it. At times I miss some of my things in storage, still it is amazing how little we humans need to be happy. Material items and possessions bring only temporary satisfaction. Happiness lies in the things we do not own, but those we borrow and those we give away - joy, laughter, company and unconditional love, all locked into simple pleasures.

At times I lie awake in the night terrified. I am scared of loosing the happiness that is so infusing me today. I wonder so what I have done to deserve having so many wonderful people in my life all of a sudden and the thought of loosing them brings out the worst in me - my insecurities which arise from so many failed relationships and so many hardships in my past. Thus I fight a battle currently with myself, growing on a level I never had to before, simply by realizing that I am good enough and I deserve to be happy. Furthermore I try not to let past mistakes cloud my judgment and rule my present - I am learning how to trust again.

I have realized that I have spend my whole life looking for the ultimate security and it is dawning on me today that such thing does not exist. As the morning outside grows into the beginning of a new day, I will try to do the only thing that is my true prerogative - to seize this new day as it was my last and accept that life is unpredictable - which ultimately is its greatest allure.

"One has to abandon altogether the search for security, and reach out to the risk of living with both arms. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying."
Morris L. West

Tangelo Twilight.

2012-01-19T10:10:00.000+01:00

There is something noticeably different about our daylight. Almost one month since winter solstice, our day has already increased by fifty minutes, a difference that can certainly be perceived.

This past weekend as I stood in our kitchen preoccupied with my own thoughts, the silhouette of our birch suddenly caught my eye, as it stood illuminated by the setting sun, against an evening sky defined by peach and iris blue coloured hue. The day has aged into twilight, my favorite kind of light. I love the time of dusk, with its contagious stillness and enchanted atmosphere.

As I stood there watching, the surroundings grew the hue of tangelo. I had to walk out, camera in my hand, witnessing a natural wonder, while the beauty of the first visible mid winter sunset unfolded through the barren trees in our backyard. The amber coloured skies created a sense of preview of what is to come, as winter moves into the second half of its reign.

Duality.

2012-01-16T07:20:00.003+01:00

I think and I feel, in alternation. And then sometimes I write about it here, if my feelings and thoughts agree and the product can be described in a coherent manner.
After confiding in my friend Elizabeth recently about my fears and my less than flattering reactions to those fears, she send me a link to a text which contained the following:

"Full moons are often a time of madness on the planet. The crazies come out of the woodwork, people are more accident prone, impatient, reckless. At the heart of it, though, the hidden is illuminated – on both a personal and a collective level- and that can drive many of us to emotional extremes.

Cancer is a nurturing, subjective, and family-oriented sign. It is highly intuitive, its feelings are easily hurt, and its energies are focused, directed. It dislikes emotional confrontations and, like the crab that represents this sign, it retreats at the first sign of conflict, withdrawing tightly into its shell."

I had to smile with amusement reading this as I could not better describe myself indeed and I recognize the way I am ruled by the moon and its cycles.

I feel has been used before to shortly summarize the sign of Cancer. My feelings are my greatest asset and yet they are simultaneously my greatest drawback. They give rise to my creativity, sensitivity and intuitive perception, making me see the world so vividly, while I notice hidden details that others might not see. Yet, when passionate emotions overtake me, they cloud my judgment, causing me to throw logic out of the window, shutting down my intelligence, while I become temporarily insane - and even cruel.

I wonder if we all harbor within us conflicting forces, which define our personality, making us unique and special. I assume we all carry an angel and devil within and at all times our actions are a product of an internal struggle between the good and the bad inside us. Sometimes the light wins, sometimes darkness take over.

I can be weak and scared. I am not always unconditionally good and I can certainly be selfish and possessive. Yet, I know I can also be loving and warm, empathetic and altruistic, pure and generous. This is human duality, defining our species, making us so extremely intriguing and so very dangerous as well.

I believe that no one is all good, as well as no one is all evil. I guess what decides which category we fall into is the way we choose to handle those opposites within us, allowing one or the other win the internal conflicts. By acknowledging fully and completely that we posses both positive and negative qualities, we can create a balance within ourselves and strive to always follow the light through the darkness of our lives.

(Images:Photobucket)

Eocene Stone.

2012-01-12T08:03:00.002+01:00

My Amber

Ever since I was a little girl, I found amber to be a fascinating stone. Admiring the jewelry worn by my mother and grandmother, I was spellbound by the golden colour and the imperfect texture, with all its small inclusions and trapped life forms of the Eocene period. It reminded me of a time capsule, as it preserved moments of the past forever.

Today I too have in my possession purchased amber jewelry, yet it has been my wish ever since Scandinavia became my home, to find raw amber on the beach.
I never did.

Me And My Find

Having recently moved to the westbound shores of the wild North Sea, I finally got my childhood wish granted. As we took a stroll along the surf on Christmas day, after a night of strong winds, glancing casually down, I suddenly spotted a large stone below my feet. After having picked up so many brown coloured stones before, only to end up in disappointment, I knew immediately this was different - I knew I have found my very own amber.

I keep it in my jewelry box and cannot help but feel it between my fingers almost every day. It is light as a feather, its surface is rough and uneven and when I hold it against light, it sparkles like fire. Over forty millions years old, it is the oldest item I will ever touch. A product of natural wonders, in my perception it reinforces the relativity of time and the incredible value of the short time we are given.

My Amber, found on the shores of the North Sea on Christmas Day 2011

Vacant Winter.

2012-01-09T08:03:00.005+01:00

Although only at the onset of January, very slowly we are approaching mid-winter.
However, looking at my surroundings, nature looks more as if we have stepped into March. This season the snow has been absent, as well as sub zero temperatures, tricking the natural process to speed up.

Roses are in bloom, trees and shrubs are covered by new shoots and the grass by spring flowers, such as daisies. And the crocuses I planted in my new garden this October are already pushing through the ground.

Still, according to the calender, spring is months away and all we can do is hope and pray that indeed this winter will be mild. After two years of arctic conditions we need a break.

My state of mind currently mimics nature.
This year I want winter to last forever. Yet it seems to move forward with light speed, each day and week hurries along, bringing spring and eventually summer, ever so close, yet again underscoring the fact that everything is relative. Least of all time.
Thus feeling currently as if I am running out of time, my every spare moment is almost exclusively spend with the man I love and his family, explaining my lack of posts and visits. Comes summer, I will be forced to do without him for months, a thought which fills me with sadness and my eyes with tears.

Fortunately, as always when something wears heavy around my heart, I find my solace in nature. As yet another full moon shone its platinum shine in my view this past weekend and I relished in its enchanting beauty, I was reminded of the fact that everything comes in cycles and that a full life is a delicate balance between darkness and light.

Courage and Passion.

2012-01-02T20:46:00.004+01:00

"Courage to let go of fears and insecurities, courage to take a leap of faith, courage to surrender to our destiny and ultimately courage to give into love and to life itself, despite the incredible uncertainty of the future.
And I intend to be courageous with a fiery passion, as passion is what I do best."

The above lines were the final sentences in my post almost exactly a year ago. Today they feel so ominous, as they are the very essence of the experiences, which defined 2011 for me.

Brand new twelve months await and as we enter January and our reality is once again a pristine canvas, so much has the possibility to unfold.
Being in an entirely different place than I was a year ago, I still wish to be courageous with passion, as I will truly need a lot of both to get me through 2012. I know without any doubt that hardship awaits, but I hope that it will be lessened by the love and happiness that fills my heart.

A few days back, when I brought the large case filled with empty containers back into the house from our garage, in order to pack away our Christmas ornaments, a sudden movement within one of the boxes startled me. A dark small shape jumped into my view, only to disappear deeper into the trunk, small feet scurrying within the case, under all the tinsel and ornament crates, causing me to hold my breath and freeze with surprise. I grabbed the case and carried it quickly outside, far away from Sammy's proximity (the cat). Removing all the empty boxes one by one, I finally reached the bottom of the trunk and the small culprit, that has chewed its contents into pieces. A little mouse stared right back at me, its eyes dark like two onyx buttons, the nose pink and ears drawn back. Crouching in the corner, paralyzed by fear, it stood still long enough for me to get a few snapshots, watching me intensely before vanishing into the shrubs through a small hole in the case.

I had to smile with amusement, as this was my first close encounter with a mouse ever. Contemplating this I realized that even though considered vermin and a nuisance, mice are actually very symbolic animals.
Having a distinctive place in the Chinese horoscope, a mouse or a rat stands for frugality, determination, perseverance and courage and even new beginnings and rebirth. And then there is the fable of The Lion and The Mouse, a favourite of mine ever since I was a child.

Thus I guess my chance meeting with a cute rodent was indeed allegorical. A small vivacious animal that found enough courage to look me in the eye, as if to remind me to be courageous myself, embracing - with fiery passion - all that awaits down the line.

Merry And Enchanting.

2011-12-24T13:42:00.000+01:00

Once again, the year has come almost full circle and the most enchanting week remains.

For me, this has been truly the most unforgettable twelve months I can ever remember. They brought my way substantial changes and immense personal growth, completely redefining my life and my beliefs.

I would like to thank you my dear friends, old and new, for the kindness and affection you showed me in your words and through your visits here in the past year. It has been my privilege to be allowed to share with you my personal experiences - both good and bad - and I am looking forward to continue doing so when I return in January.

Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year

to all of you

Xoxo

Zuzana

Pristine North Sea, Christmas Eve 2011

"Dies Natalis Solis Invicti".

2011-12-22T11:18:00.001+01:00

December in Scandinavia is defined by an endless and constant darkness. We only get six hours of daylight, which is fragile and resembles twilight at the very best, instigating perpetual tiredness and signs of depression.
Yet, this period of - what feels as - eternal dusk, beckons us to light multitude of candles through out our homes, adding to the enchantment of the Holidays, complementing the artificial illumination of the streets and the stores.

Today, as we cross the threshold of light once again, the longest night settles upon us, creating a sweet contradiction.

While the winter solstice ushers us into the fourth season, defined by cold and darkness, it also brings with it that slight glimpse of hope. The Romans called this day Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, meaning the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun.
From now on, the fragile daylight will grow stronger by each day. However minute that addition of light will be to begin with, it will be there nevertheless. Slowly gaining in intensity until it grows strong enough to illuminate our surroundings, comes the vernal equinox.

However, until that time comes, we will relish in the subtle light of candles, which create that enchanting atmosphere, so significant of the winter season.

Unthinkably Good Things.

2011-12-19T07:27:00.000+01:00

When I was a child, Christmas was an enchanted time. The whole month of December resonated with incredible bliss. The anticipation, the decorations, the various traditions, the scents, my family - it all created a harmonious atmosphere which filled me with happiness.

I recall how unthinkable it was to me then that some could perceive this time so very differently. Those that felt loneliness and sorrow, for one reason or another. Those who felt excluded from this unified joy and for whom during the Holiday Season the world turned into torment and melancholy.
Thus, when I found myself celebrating one New Year's Eve all alone not that long time ago, I did shed a small tear realizing that I had to endure what I thought would never happen to me - being lonely and sad.

Today, within the walls of our warm and cosy home, one that exuberates safety and comfort, as I sit surrounded by people that truly love me like I was loved once before, I become slightly sentimental recalling all these moments in my past. Seeing the children with so much excitement and expectations in their faces, those memories of Christmas celebrations from my own childhood come streaming back. And yet again, that feeling of happiness and unity I once felt seems to fill my world.

Lady Fortune has finally granted me my wishes, those that I carried with me as dreams for what seems like an eternity. They are packaged slightly differently than I envisioned, yet they are my wishes indeed. Today I wonder why I had to reach this late age to finally find that which has been so elusive my whole adult life.
Perhaps our dreams can only be appreciated and savored fully when achieving them takes all that we have got. Perhaps we are to walk those lonely and difficult paths to learn those vital lessons that will become our old age wisdom. Maybe if I would have been granted all that I wanted at an early age, I would never have been where I am now nor would I have seen what I have seen. Additionally, I would have not appreciated what I have been blessed with so passionately and valued it so strongly. Maybe the best is worth waiting for.

To live fully is to dare.
We need an ounce of luck along the way of course, but the quality of our lives is at all times determined by our own actions, something that became very clear to me this year. Thus, as this very important period in my life is closing towards its end, I look back upon the past twelve months and feel thankful, blessed, excited and ultimately surprised. I feel reflective, amazed and endlessly happy.
But most of all, I feel fulfilled, as I am finally exactly where I want to be, even if it took me half a lifetime to get here.

The below clip contains one of the final scenes from one of my favorite movies entitled "Under The Tuscan Sun". Today I feel the sentiments expressed within these images and words mirror my own life, as indeed - "Unthinkably good things can happen even late in the game..."

December Dawn.

2011-12-15T08:07:00.002+01:00

We are now in mid December and the presence of the fourth season is unmistakeably obvious. Winter stands almost at our threshold and its reign is already palpable in the icy cold air and the first snowfall.

Our daylight is fragile and subtle, with late sunrises and early sunsets, both fast and elusive. Still, currently I am fortunate enough to watch the golden disk emerge from behind the flat horizon on my way to work.

The first part of my drive takes me through beautiful country side, with small roads cutting through a soft landscape, where at the present the skies lie low and the fields bare. However, on those rare occasions when weather permits, I can spot the vital star emerge from its night slumber. At times, it enters an almost pristine sky, where it appears large and glowing, majestically floating in the morning haze, before turning into a globe of molten steel, averting my gaze. On other occasions, it is obscured by clouds, its rays pushing through the fractures of vapor, creating stunning sights of almost biblical proportions.

Below is a selection of images taken this December, on my solitary drive during a subtle dawn, when the young sun could be seen just above the horizon, creating an elusive winter sunrise.

(About the images: taken with my trusted Nikon Coolpix, my good old friend always present in my bag for those emergency occasions - however not possessing the precision and capabilities of my beautiful Canon PowerShot G12, which I usually use.
Please click images for a larger view.)

Every Love...

2011-12-12T06:44:00.000+01:00

"All, everything that I understand,
I understand only because I love."
Leo Tolstoy

We are in the midst of the holiday season and I feel it is time to revisit that subject that lies so very close to my heart - the subject of love. I have written about love before - and many of you recall this, I am sure.
I have written about love the way I have known it and perceived it at that given time, with honesty and passion. I am convinced that love is what I live for and why I was born - I am here to love and to be loved. In fact, everything I have ever done in my life has been in the name of love.

Despite this, the surpassing emotion has truly been quiet elusive in my life.
Until now.

In my past I have loved with fiery passion and I have loved many times. But the bliss never lasted, always ending with someones heart shattered in pieces - thus I became almost convinced that the romantic love was not meant for me.

"Every love is different" - once I was told these words by a brief acquittance and today I feel they are the most profound words ever said about love.
I believe with all my being that we can love more than once and that indeed, each time we love differently. Not more or less, not stronger or weaker, not more passionately or more distantly, not for the first time nor the last. Just differently.

I believe that a human heart is capable of breaking and mending endlessly. It is resilient and can recover fully, if we only allow it to feel and heal, never sheltering it or hiding it away. It will only grow stronger when given away.
Love has no beginning nor end. It is constant and it infuses everything. It is pure and when it is right, it is enough and it is all we need. The lucky few find that kind of love instantly, while the rest of us might have to look for it feverishly.
Still it only takes once to get it right - and when we do, we will know.

The capability to love is one of the most precious abilities we posses. Therefore I do not regret loving in my past, as I know that the love I gave away was never lost. Ultimately we will receive as much as we give. It might take years and even decades for this generosity to be returned, but if we only persevere and believe in its allure, one day true love will come streaming back to illuminate our existence.

(I made - and shared - the clip below last year, however I feel it can be reused. I dedicate it to all of you, whether you feel loved or lonely this Christmas, and whether you are with the ones you love or miss them dearly...)

(Images in the post: Photobucket
Images in the clip, my own photography)

Slush Ice.

2011-12-08T07:30:00.000+01:00

The first snow is enchanting and alluring.
When the initial snowflakes appear, I watch them with such delightful intensity, as if I have never seen snowfall before. Indeed, how differently I perceive this wintry precipitation late in the season, when it comes across as impeding and distressing.

We got our first and very brief taste of winter this week, when sleet swept over the country, leaving behind slippery roads, snow dusted fields and wet snow in our streets - for a few hours only, melting away quickly in the fragile rays of the early winter sun.

Of course, I simply had to capture the first snow with my camera and thus I hope you will indulge me one more time, as I share with you the images of our overgrown lawn. I have shown it previously covered with droplets of dew in early autumn and the first frost in late October.
Here it is hence once again covered in slush ice.

(Please click images for a larger view)

Ornate Details.

2011-12-05T08:17:00.001+01:00

A new house is like a new friend.
It takes time to get to know it and its occupants; the different moods, quirkiness, the versatile traits, both negative and positive. It takes time to settle in and although I have lived here for almost six months, I am still establishing new routines and my own place - not just in the new house but also in my new life.

Slowly, I am introducing my touch, so to speak, into an already establish home. Trying not to be too overwhelming and larger than life, remaining respectful and apprehensive, yet still - having a strong desire to have my home reflect the fact that a woman has moved in.
Whether I am succeeding in this endeavor or not is mirrored in the reactions of my new family. I win some and I loose some, as to be expected. The boys are mostly oblivious to my efforts, but the lovely girl senses the changes and has stated in no uncertain terms that her father's house has become much more cosy and delightfully scented since I moved in.
I take that as a sign of success.

Thus this year the Christmas decorations in my home are much more austere than I am used to. Still, the ornate details here and there create an atmosphere of familiarity and celebrate this delightful season in the spirit of love, family and companionship - the very essence of Christmas.

Countdown In Light.

2011-12-01T08:18:00.000+01:00

This December is very special to me, as I get to experience the Holiday season for the first time in my new home.

I am looking forward to celebrate this enchanting occasion in the company of my new family, as we combine our traditions, creating something novel and something that is ours.

While most of my possessions are in storage, I made sure all the red boxes once stored in my old basement, with Christmas written on their side, were tucked away safely in our garage. Thus some of my Christmas decorations are now finding their way into our home.

Such as the familiar Calendar Candle. Christmas is simply not complete in any home I live in, unless I get to experience this simple daily pleasure in this ultimate month of the year.
Those of you who know me well know that starting the 1st of December, I burn a special candle, the one that has twenty four numbers printed on its side. I burn each number down for each day in December until I reach 24 - The Christmas Eve.

This year is no exception. I opted for a simple white candle, made of natural wax, so very fitting our austere home.
Thus yet again, the countdown to Christmas has begun and each day I will post a new picture of the burning candle on my side bar - turning this month into weeks of progressive photography in light.
And days of sweet anticipation.

In Monochrome.

2011-11-28T08:37:00.000+01:00

There is something very melancholic about the end of November. The second half of this penultimate month in a year carries a certain nostalgic feel to it. Particularly here in the cold North, where it is defined by cloudy skies, damp, misty air and a barren landscape.

By now, all the foliage is gone. The golden, copper and fiery red colours are replaced by a multitude shades of grey. As we stand between seasons, our world grows monochrome. It resembles a foggy canvas upon which bare tree branches are painted like dark brush strokes against the twilight sky.

Thus it is time for me to conclude the progressive photography of our lovely birch tree, at least for this season.
It stands now all dormant in our front yard, appearing lifeless, entering its winter sleep. What a difference a span of three months can make - one can not believe that the first and last picture below is indeed taken in the same spot. Gone is the juice green and even the copper hue. The beautiful azure heavens and platinum sunshine. All that remains is a charcoal tree drawn against a transparent anthracite background.

Unless snow will cover its branches a few weeks down the road, I will return with a new update first next year, to take you on the opposite journey through the spring and into early summer, recording the return of the beautiful leaves of our silver birch.

Thanksgiving Bloom.

2011-11-24T07:34:00.000+01:00

I wonder if any of you recall my lovely Christmas Cactus. It has been in my possession for almost four years. Each November, its inner clock triggers it into a lovely bloom - it never fails.

This year is no exception.
Adorned by numerous pink flowers, the plant seems to be thriving, having survived the relocation and the fact that half of it perished in the summer, due to my own neglect.

I have recently realized it is also called Thanksgiving Cactus, which I think is a name much better fitting this enchanting plant, blooming with uncanny precision during the eleventh month, signalling in no uncertain terms that the Holiday Season is once more about to begin.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends.

Old Reflections Upon New Windows.

2011-11-21T09:25:00.001+01:00

My life is slowly returning to somewhat routine tracks, yet again, not quite. I have entered a novel existence and I guess it only dawned on me first very recently that I have truly moved on.

I have lived in my new home for almost five months now, however it was first after I removed all my possessions from the white house, seeing it become a home to someone new, when I realized that the familiar and safe has been left in the past. It is as if I have waited for a very delayed departure and am finally preparing to lift off. Being now beyond the point of no return, it will be endlessly exciting to learn whether my new found wings will indeed bear.
I am not alone though. For the first time in in a very long while do I not feel alone. I have found a partner, who is like a steady and strong jet stream in the sky and who will keep me airborne.

It is somehow so refreshing to be at last in a relationship with a man who is so relaxed in his own skin and who makes me feel safe and secure. I have realized today in retrospect that all the men I was ever seriously involved with - however great they all were - never really knew what they wanted - with their own life or with me.
More sadly, they all had strange and hidden insecurities and they own agendas and even though an infatuation, I was not really ever their priority. Thus I kept on struggling (sometimes for years) to make it so, trying to make something out of nothing, until I eventually realized that I had to walk away. Each time I kept wondering whether a man existed to whom I simply would be enough.

Today, in the light of my new reality, I can conclude that relationships when they are right, take no effort whatsoever - no matter what people say. As with anything that is alive, they will only strive if nurtured and cared for - but that is in my eyes not effort but the essence of being in love. And additionally a great deal of fun, despite some challenges.

It is amusing to watch how we humans adapt. I have been through many changes in my life and today I am so aware of the process, paying so much more attention to it, then I ever did before. We are all creatures of habit and thus I too am slowly adapting certain habits and routines in my new home, as I have done in some many homes before. There is a difference this time around as I have never before lived with children.
They are not my children, yet I love them more by each passing day. I endlessly enjoy the time when we are all gathered around the dinner table and I listen to their vivid story telling and laughs, watching them with their father. Their occasional presence in our house brings into my life that joy that was missing in it at all times, that innocent perspective and a fresh outlook. I savour those stolen moments, when I get a glimpse into what could have been, if my destiny wanted otherwise. At times it leaves me with bittersweet tears, but ultimately, it brings my way a sense of endless happiness and the realization that a family comes in all shape and sizes and that our children do not have to be our flesh and blood.

This in its turn has made me realize that everything in life unfolds the way it should be and that all will eventually

BE FINE.

I worry less about petty things and as I relax, events simply unfold, setting everything in the right direction, without my effort. There is something in the saying "to go with the flow". On several occasions recently have I found myself in certain dispositions, but I simply refused to let these situations bring me down. Eventually they all resolved on their own, to my great astonishment.

If we keep thinking positive, positive things will come our way - I have touched upon this subject before, but as of recently this is becoming the foundation to my thinking. My old reflections now viewed upon new windows make me see my life in a truly new light.
And at last I like what I see.

Images: Photobucket, except top one

Empty Rooms...

2011-11-17T08:01:00.002+01:00

Last Candle Light

Empty rooms...
That is the last image of the white house imprinted in my memory.
Yet, also smiling faces of my new tenants ready to move in.
A deliciously melancholic mix.

Nevertheless, I have now left my former home behind, in the hands of a new family.
But not before I spend one very last weekend there getting it ready for the new occupants.
I was very appropriately alone, as my man was once again out of town through his work and this final stay was exactly as I envisioned it would be; strenuous, endless work mixed with wonderfully bittersweet recollections.

The house parted with me in style - I got to see a magnificent sunrise and a stunning late fall sunset. I watched a large red moon rise in the north and I enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the beautiful westbound views - all for one last time.
Finally, I lit one last candle in the old lantern, the one that once - those eighth years ago - held the first candle light when I moved in...

I got to say my good byes and now it is time for a new wonderful chapter in my life to start, one that I have been waiting for so long - my whole life it seems.
And I am looking forward to share it with all of you.

Sunrise, 12th Of November

Sunset, 12th Of November

Almost Full Moon, 12th Of November

November Rose.

2011-11-10T11:55:00.005+01:00

Those of you who have ever been moving know that it comes across like an endless process. Particularly the ultimate phase, when one is almost done and then again not quiet yet and when long days turn into late nights and all that remains is total exhaustion.

I am in that last phase right now and thus I have not been able to visit any of your lovely places, for which I apologize. I hope to do so as soon as my life returns to a somewhat familiar routine, which will be shortly.

The house is though now almost empty. It's rooms echo my footsteps and the music streaming out of the radio, reminding me of the time when I moved in. Serendipitously this was also in the month of November, thus I feel my time there has come full circle.
As I was collecting the last of my potted plants from my back terrace the other day, just when dusk was settling over the neighborhood ending a foggy, drizzly late autumn day, I had to pause for a moment as a feeling of familiarity overcame me. The place came across so barren and deserted, so empty of life, just like it did those eight years ago.
Then I saw it.
A single November Rose blooming in all its splendor on my old rosebush, this late in the year, when everything else in nature seems lifeless.

It came across as a beautiful sign of hope and a sweet fragrant gift which the house bestows upon me as I say my farewells. A miracle of nature confirming the fact that everything in life is truly connected.

(I managed to take these two snapshots with my old Nikon Coolpix, which I had with me, just before it run out of battery.)

"U-haul".

2011-11-07T08:02:00.007+01:00

Once again that time has come. I am now moving all my possessions, being in the process of packing all I own into boxes and hauling my belongings into storage, in close proximity of my new residence. I do this not alone however, but with the help of a pair of very strong and capable hands, belonging to a man that stole my heart and who has brought my way incredible happiness.
And who has given me a new home.

The white house on the hill is about to become definitely abandoned by me, as a new family is moving in - if only as tenants. New life is going to be housed within its walls, as the rooms will resonate with laughter of children and feelings of love. This notion calms my mind and lifts my spirits, infusing me with a content that thrills me on so many levels.

The past week has therefore seen me hard at work, as I (we) packed and sorted out and mostly disposed of all that junk that I have collected over the years.
It was incredibly liberating.

I have moved numerous times in my life. As a child, I was uprooted on many occasions by my parents, who possessed (and still do) the heart of gypsies and an adventurous mind. This must be qualities that I inherited as well - I have likewise traveled the world and have laid down my hat in many countries (and even two continents). Thus one can say I am at this point quiet proficient at relocating. Still, it does not get any easier and the stir of emotions is very much the same.

There is something very sentimental about ending something, no matter how much we long to see it end. It is a very odd sensation, when our dreams do come true. It feels highly exhilarating, yet concomitantly there is that feel of anticlimax, as if there is suddenly a void left behind in our perception, until we establish new desires and dream new dreams.

Thus currently I experience mixed emotions of excitement and happiness, yet as well a slight sting of melancholy and maybe a certain gentle sadness, as I part with my former home.
My white house on the hill has seen me through an important part of my life, one that has been filled with unforgettable moments and an immense personal growth, bringing me here where I am today. It has given me shelter and provided me with a safe haven, during my perpetual quest for happiness. It has seen me age almost a decade, through such intense years that defined me in a very profound way.

I embrace this recent change, because it feels good and so very right, something that is confirmed to me undoubtedly by each new day. I do not know what the future will bring, nor am I willing to contemplate that, as I relish in that uncertainty.
All I have is my past, which fills me with no regrets and my present which fills me with excitement. It instigates in me a thrill about what is yet to come, as I embark on a journey of a new fulfilling personal era.

'Darkness Is My Light'.

2011-11-03T08:00:00.006+01:00

This somewhat ominous title is actually a small excerpt from the lyrics to a song made by the band Imagination, called "Hold Me In Your Arms". For those of you who might be interested, there is a clip in the end of this post.

I own their album Closer, purchased as a tape almost twenty five years ago and it is right now on constant reply in my car, keeping me company on my very long drive home each day - after dark.

I love this album and I love this song in particular.
I love it's soulful harmonies and the eighties sound and I enjoy endlessly the memories as they come streaming back, while I recollect my youth to the gentle beats and the so very catching chorus.

Additionally, the mentioned words seem to sum up the period of the year we have just entered in a truly eloquent way.
November, together with December, account for the darkest month here in the cold North. This is the onset of time when twilight rules our days and when indeed, "darkness is our light".

I have mixed feelings about the increasing lack of light. Driving home after the onset of darkness makes for a very unpleasant ride, particularly during heavy rain storms when all I can see through the windshield is a distorted play of lights, resembling a watercolor painting.

Yet the twilight holds also a certain allure, as it instigates a sense of rest. It indicates that everything in nature is now slowly winding down and a period of stillness is ahead. Thus it beckons us to do the same - to retreat to our homes and enjoy the subtle lights of candles and the company of our loved ones.

As I have grown older, I have found novel joy in each season. The darkness of November has truly too its function, if only to reinforce our joy in the month of June, the month of light, balancing out our reality and putting everything into perspective.

(All images in this post are taken on our recent trip across the Danish Islands and in our home.)

Ornate October.

2011-10-31T08:00:00.003+01:00

As we exit the month of October, the stunning showdown in colours all around us is now so very apparent. This is fall flamboyance in all its glory, when trees, shrubs and bushes grow that beautiful attire of copper, gold and fiery red.

It often comes across as a certain theatrical finale - it is as if nature wants to leave us with the best it has got, enabling us to enjoy and savor its final glow, before it becomes infinitely barren, cold, dark and still.

This autumn beauty is very short and intense in my part of the world. At all times it sneaks upon us suddenly and the changes are powerful and fast. Every day more colours are added to our views and it is an endless joy to watch these grow in tint and intensity.

Indeed October is that ornate month, when nature wears its very best, as was truly obvious on our recent walk. It felt as if we were granted one last performance, before the foliage vanishes from the trees, compliments of the late autumn storms, making leaves gather on the ground like discarded party confetti.
When that time comes, then we will truly know that winter is about to begin.

(Please click images for a larger view)

Turning Foliage.

2011-10-27T07:46:00.002+02:00

Our Indian Summer, which dominated the onset of this month, feels today only as a distant memory. Yet, it has contributed to a truly delayed colour showdown.

We are thus in the midst of a very short and a very intense turn, which I believe will last only a week at the best. It has been only days since the foliage began showing in all the earthy colours of red, copper and golden.
Below are some long overdue updates on our lovely birch. It has lost almost half of its lovely coat and whatever still adores the branches is golden. By each day, the strong westerly winds, with a force so very palpable in these parts, rob the tree of more of its leaves.

When I stand looking out of our kitchen window these days, I always have to pause, looking at the long branches as they sway in my view, like the mane on a palomino, while the air gets saturated by falling leaves, gathering on the ground in heaps, like golden coins. At all times these natural changes instigate in me a sense of security, as yet again the third season moves forward, as does the yearly circle of the birch.

(Please click images for a larger view)

Current Reflections.

2011-10-24T08:31:00.003+02:00

I have been somewhat absent from my writing here, for which I apologize. The will is there, the time is simply not.
When I left the single life behind a few months back, I left a lot of free time behind as well. Nevertheless, it is a loss I do not miss the least. On the contrary, I have never lived life so intensely as I do now and yet I feel so much has the potential to still unfold.

I find myself currently in a state of content. It is a novel feeling for me. This does not mean that I lack worries or problems, oh, a far cry from that I must admit. As of lately I struggle with our persistently and increasingly declining personal economy, trying to keep two homes, one close to unsellable.
However, it seems not to weight me down too much nor does it keep me sleepless. Why? Because when fears overcome me, I have always a broad shoulder to cry on and strong arms to support me. And a kind, steady voice to reassure me that everything is - and will be - fine. At last I have a man in my life that makes me feel safe, because he is just like me; believing in the same values and seeing life as an endless adventure, one that needs to be lived and savored. He never makes anything into a problem and he makes problems into nothing.

I have realized that in life we never get it all. At least not simultaneously. There is always that last part that needs fixing. I guess that is destiny's way of keeping us on our toes. Giving us something to learn at all times. If we only persist and never loose hope and a positive outlook, the lessons we learn will lead us to places of incredible success.

I have also come to the conclusion recently that we need so little of material possessions in our every day life. I have now lived for months in my new home and all I have brought with me from the white house are some of my clothes and personal belongings. And I miss nothing of my "stuff". Every time I visit the house and see all those items that I have collected over the years, I wonder why I kept so much junk. Why do we do this? Why do we surround us with things we never use? Perhaps it gives us some sort of security, makes us feel connected to our life and to our past. Small trinkets and gifts we do not want to discard due to sentimental reasons, and perhaps the idea that they might come to use at one time. They usually never do.

Do you feel you know yourself?
I thought I did, but honestly, I do not. Sitting here today, recollecting the past year and all that I have done, I have ultimately surprised myself. I have changed so much in such a short time and my priorities have been totally redefined. However, I do not think it is a tragedy at all. On the contrary, I think not knowing what we might be like or want in a few years (maybe even a few months) is what keeps life interesting. It is a sign of an ongoing personal change. To have it all figured out at any time in our life would make for an infinitely boring existence.

Finally, I have decided to pay attention to signs all around me. I have always done so, but I have become infinitely more sensitive to what the universe is trying to tell me, whether I will be ridiculed for this or not. The other day when I was driving from work, consumed by anxious thoughts, I looked out to see an incredible rainbow. I found consolation in its glorious beauty as the arch put my mind to ease.

Thus I am no longer scared of pain or set backs, as I know that after the rain the sun will eventually come out. And during the transition time, the reward for our endurance is a glimpse of an alluring rainbow.

Frozen Dew.

2011-10-17T08:30:00.005+02:00

We have now passed mid fall, thus the first frost covers the ground, clearly visible upon daybreak.
This past week, getting ready to hang up new washed laundry in the morning sun, I had to walk onto our lawn, which is now mid calf length - not that we care too much.

The air was still and cool and there was a promise of a beautiful sunny autumn day in store. Areas of grass not heated yet by the sun were covered by multitude of water crystals and beads of frozen dew - a stunning, nevertheless fleeting architecture in ice.

Nature is an endless source of magic. Just a couple of weeks ago, the sense of summer hang in the air, as spiders spun their webs among the slender green straws, covered with brilliant dew. Yet now they are long gone, and the ice in the grass announces in no uncertain terms that the countdown to winter has truly begun.

(Please click on images for a larger view)

Smokey Fall Moon.

2011-10-13T07:38:00.002+02:00

I have had the most beautiful encounters with the growing moon recently. As some of you might know, I am infinitely fascinated by this natural satellite of the Earth.

This past Saturday evening, as we walked in the fresh autumn air, so saturated with a promise of the first frost, we passed a nearby park. As a clearing came into view, suddenly the moon was just there, right before us, in all its silvery glory, large and heavy lying low over the easterly horizon. Like a lantern in the purple twilight sky, reflecting the sun, which was setting in the opposite cardinal direction.
Holding my lovers hand, feeling his warmth and affection in that one simple touch, I became spellbound by this unforgettable moment, as it etched itself in my memory, preserved forever.

Earlier this week, driving home through heavy showers, upon my final approach, the skies cleared and to my east the same moon was rising. Significantly fuller, it floated occasionally within my views, while the sun kissed it good bye. I felt such an urge to capture its beauty, yet once again had no opportunity to do so, which filled me with remorse.

The next morning, upon my solitary run, as I defied the cold arctic wind, making my way towards the lake, an alluring sight greeted me. The almost full moon was setting in the west, reflected in the rippled waters like a large glowing globe, while the world was waking up to a pastel coloured daybreak. What a reward for venturing into a cold, dark morning. Yet once again, only mental shots were the ones preserving this ethereal beauty.

However, the next evening, as I looked out into a starry night, there was a bright moon shine in my immediate view, beckoning me outside, with camera in my hand. Governing the ebony heavens, positioned high above the ground, in its full phase. Occasionally concealed from view by fast moving clouds, it appeared to be left temporary behind a veil of smoke. Enchanted and magical, as it always is in my perception.

Despite having witnessed its presence in the night sky endless times before, its allure will never seize its hold on me, as I continue my perpetual love affair with this platinum disc in the celestial sphere.

Touched By An Angel.

2011-10-10T07:33:00.001+02:00

I did not grow up with religious views, nor teachings. To attend church was strictly prohibited in the communist east. I was however baptized in secrecy, as my mothers uncle was a priest and my mom always exhibited a deep sense of beliefs, which became part of my life in an unforced way and felt very natural.
I can not claim thus to be religious, however I do carry a golden cross around my neck, I do pray at times and I believe that there is more between heaven and earth than can be explain by simple natural laws. Despite being a scientist, governed by logical thinking, I am also forced to keep an open mind, thus I see myself as a deeply spiritual being believing in the unseen and the mysterious.

Slightly more than a year ago, I decided to change my life.
Very drastically and basically from one day to another. Being stuck in a reality I did not enjoy and in a relationship that was draining me, I felt deeply unhappy and felt a force rising within me on regular bases, urging me to act. Knowing that waiting around for things to get better was futile, I opted to finish that which was already broken and started anew, jumping into the unknown and foreign, even though I was terrified. I embarked on a journey that took me through the most unbelievable twists and turns of fate, making me feel a broad spectra of emotions - anything from deep devastation and sadness to happiness of indescribable proportions.
Simply, I started to live and simultaneously, very interesting occurrences began to take place in my life, as I have described previously. One of these has been an odd instance of numerology, which continues today still - even in a greater intensity than before - therefore it occupies my thinking, while I am trying to look for answers to this peculiar phenomenon.

I see sequences of numbers. Everywhere and daily.
The sequences wary, but they are there. Every time I gaze at an instrument that displays numbers or time, I see 13:13. Or 22:22. At times 12:34. Often this manifestation becomes very intense if I am worried, anxious or upset about some occurrence in my daily life.
The other day when I was driving home in my old Toyota, I glanced at the display in the panel in front of me. It showed 18:18 18. The first two digits signified time, the last the outside temperature in Celsius. I had to smile and recalled a similar event taking place a few months back, when we drove to Prague to visit my family this past July, when the same sequence was 22.
About twenty minutes later, gazing at the odometer I got to see this; 88988.
It seemed that on that particular day, the number 8 was of significance for me.

My numerous inquiries has led me me to realize that the explanations I seek might be as versatile as trusting this is only a natural statistical phenomenon or the revelation of our subconscious conveying hidden messages to believing that this is indeed a form of communication by someone divine, the angels.
What surprised me mostly during my search was the infinite number of people that seem to be experiencing the same sightings. Hundreds of people out there write about seeing particular sequences as well as seeing random sequences, at different periods in their lives. Even books has been published on this subject and when I mentioned my experiences to my mom this past summer, she read me a passage from one, stating in no uncertain terms that seeing sequences of numbers are the means by which our guardian angles tell us that we are on the right path.

Now, what do I choose to believe.
Perhaps I have been touched by an angel, the one who I have been praying to all those years when I cried myself to sleep. Or perhaps I have just tuned into something that has always been there, gone unnoticed to me before, until my senses became enhanced by life's experiences.
Whatever the explanation might be, one thing is certain - I have never experienced this phenomenon before last year, around the time when I found courage to take leaps of fate. Thus perhaps it is a sign given to me by something divine to trust myself and to trust the path I have chosen in life.
As after all, the result of that change has brought me to heaven on earth.

"Angels are speaking to all of us... some of us are only listening better."
- Anonymous

White House Revisited.

2011-10-05T08:08:00.001+02:00

My man has a profession that requires him to routinely spend days, occasionally weeks and once in a while even months (sigh) away from home.
And away from me.

Currently he is away for ten days, the longest time we have been apart since we met and although I dislike this separation with all my being, I decided to stop obsessing about things I can not change and turn them into something positive instead. These departures of his will inevitably become part of my life, as they are a part of his. It is an occurrence that I will have to get used to and accept, because he has chosen this profession, one that he does with dedication and great skill and one that defines who he is.
A courageous man whom I love with all my heart and soul.

Determined to use my time alone the best I could, I opted for a day, an evening and a night on my own again, back at the white house.
My old home these days stands so abandoned and neglected, still for sale, but due to the frozen real estate market light years removed from the possibility of selling - thus it is in a desperate need of love and attention.

Working outside in the warm autumnal weather, bringing my terraces back to their former glory, felt as a vital therapy. Later in the evening, I enjoyed the warmth of the fire, that one single thing that I miss deeply in my new home. Inhaling the scent of burning wood and incense, while watching the fall sun set in my westbound views brought on moments of soothing tranquility and deep relaxation.

Yet, the experience very quickly lost its allure and as soon as darkness enveloped the world, I felt a strong urge to drive back home - as certainly my white house no longer felt as such for me.
Instead, it has become now a residence away from home, a tranquil retreat, one that can bring me seclusion if I ever yearn for it. It can offer a time for me only, a solitude that is unforced and chosen, one that is only temporary - long enough to be enjoyed, but short enough not to feel too impeding.

When I left the house the next morning, it was with a sense of satisfaction, not sadness. Even though I enjoyed this momentary solitude, I knew without a doubt that my life was no longer there and I had no desire whatsoever to retaliate to my old existence again. I would never want to wish it back - it has become my past and my entire being longed passionately to return to my loving present.

I smiled with amusement as I locked the door, glancing back at my former home, pondering that one single fact - despite being currently as poor as a church mouse, I feel as the richest woman in the world.

Splendor In The Grass.

2011-10-02T11:45:00.003+02:00

We are in the midst of an uncanny Indian Summer. Yesterday was the warmest day in October ever measured and indeed our second month of the fall began warmer than our July.

As the sun heats up the air to record breaking temperatures, the nights are nevertheless still cool, giving rise to misty mornings and dew covered ground. Being up early, I literally waded through our overgrown lawn - having not been mowed for over two months, it belongs more appropriately in a jungle than in a garden.

Yet the long grass offered an unexpected surprise. Among the vibrant and juicy green slender leafs, tiny droplets of water shone as if thousands of diamonds were thrown onto the ground. Spread all across the grassy carpet, these reflected the low lying autumn sun like miniature mirrors. It was as if an enchanted being crossed here in a hurry upon day break, leaving behind beads of a broken necklace. Accidentally strewn onto the leafage, some drops got caught up in the silky threads of spider webs - a treasure to find for those who look.

And indeed, what beauty lies hidden between the green straws if we only take the time to notice. Brilliant splendor in the grass, a reward for an early riser and a delightful last kiss of summer as it waves good bye.

(Please click images for a better view.)

Sunsets Redifined.

2011-09-29T10:15:00.000+02:00

I no longer get the privilege to watch stunning sunsets out of the westbound windows at the white house on the hill, those that made me marvel and hold my breath.
Our current house is positioned in the suburbs of a very small town, on a straight plain lined by a sandy coastline and our westerly views are obstructed by trees and other buildings.

Still, as the skies turn ever so dark, while we slowly yet steadily move into the half a year of twilight, my daily extended drive from work makes up for those departed views.
Currently, there is that narrow margin of time, which will only last a couple of weeks at the best, enabling me to watch the sun as it meets the horizon, while I am on my way home.

Thus on a few occasions recently, I got the privilege to witness stunning sunsets, light-shows of no equal, unraveling just above the natural settings that I call home today. Watching the evening sky from a low land, the experience became an absolutely novel one, while the clouds turned the heavens into a vaulted ceiling of shadows and light, at times as if set on fire.

Savoring the visual magic of these precious moments, I eternalized this natural wonder with my camera lens, while the sunsets of my past became redefined...

Come Fly With Me.

2011-09-26T07:46:00.001+02:00

Recently we returned from a ten day trip around Europe, visiting both of our extended families, traveling by air. I am truly a nervous flier, however as I am getting older, I have found a novel meaning in the saying
"Life lived in fear is a life only half lived".
Thus I have decided that if I still want to see the world and visit our relatives who live spread all over, the only efficient way to do this is to fly.

Therefore facing my fear, I boarded a total of eight flights in those ten days, a true accomplishment for someone who until last year refused to fly altogether.
The recent experience of such a frequent flying consisted of a broad spectra of emotions - anything from enjoyment and relaxation to becoming consumed by sheer terror and panic. I assure you that during the later I was not a pretty sight. Particularly during the flights that took off into cloudy skies, when turbulence shook the body of the plane upon a steep ascend through the uneven air, I had a very strong urge to scream. I think I literally tried to climb into the arms of my companion, chanting loudly (I have a short prayer that I ~~whisper~~ shout over and over again) and probably exhibiting a truly embarrassing behavior.

Nevertheless, I survived the flights and I am convinced that I will fly again.
Additionally, for the first time in a very long while have I enjoyed to actually be at an airport. Before, just my close proximity to one used to fill me with immense fear.

This time it brought on a certain kind of excitement and a sense of great expectations. Airports are certainly extremely exotic places. They are a manifestation and representation of the country in which they are situated, yet they are so very international simultaneously. Nowhere is there a larger concentration of so many nationalities in such a small space, interchanging so rapidly. Additionally, this must be one the most controlled, well organized and efficient workplaces in the world.

As we were enjoying a meal at one of Europe's busiest airports, I watched the various flights landing and taking off out of the large glass windows. Every minute a new plane took to the air, those sleek silver birds, defying gravity yet following simple laws of aerodynamics and physics, so effortlessly and with such an elegance. It simply made me realize what a safe way this is to travel indeed.

There is a certain atmosphere in an airport that is unique. One is surrounded by so many languages, faced by so many various people from every single corner of the world, all in a transit to new destinations. This location truly carries an imprint of the advances in technology and displays the speed with which we move forward today, all mixed with the basic human urge to explore.

As much as it holds a feel of movement and urgency, it is also nevertheless a place that is filled with love and affection. Upon our arrival to our final destination, as we were embraced by my parents, I momentarily recalled the opening scene to Love Actually and realized how fortunate I was, because I am loved. That love that I feel from my soul-mate and from my family has made me brave enough to face my worst fear and to finally give into life.

And I know that this love will keep me safe.
In the air as well as on the ground.

Falling For Fall.

2011-09-22T08:17:00.001+02:00

Suddenly, there is that unmistakable finale in the air. One that signals that a certain natural change is imminent. As we are about to cross the gateway into the third season, my surroundings become defined by all the subtle alterations, those that announce the arrival of Lady Autumn.

The westerly winds blow ever so colder and the sun sets earlier by each day. Looking out of the windows, I notice the first golden leaves on our birch tree and the rowan in our garden is by now fully mature.
My afternoon drive home these days ends in twilight and during my solitary morning run, I can feel the chill in the air and the dance of the first fallen foliage around my feet, when the breeze picks up.

Indeed, tomorrows equinox means that fall is about to commence and this realization brings on emotions of a renewed excitement. I look forward to experience this rich, flamboyant season, in all its colourful glory, greeting it as if for the first time, seeing it with new eyes.
In my new home, in my new life.

Silver Birch, Encore.

2011-09-16T08:00:00.001+02:00

Many of you might recall my infatuation with a beautiful birch tree, the one that used to adorn my easterly views in my old house.

One year I decided to follow the changes of its foliage and document them here in a series of photographs, showing the yearly cycle of that stunning silver tree.

Never before have I paid such a close attention to that lovely birch as I did that year and in the process I realized how much beauty and life goes unnoticed every day in our own views.

It was with a deep sadness in my heart and tears in my eyes that I watched my neighbours cut down my beautiful friend this past spring... I do not think I can ever accept or understand this atrocity.

Thus I was overwhelmed with joy when I realized that a beautiful silver tree adorns the easterly views in my new home. Once again, I can watch a magnificent birch and its transition through the year, as it plays out just outside our kitchen windows.

Therefore with renewed enthusiasm have I decided to document its yearly cycle, starting from green to bare.
I hope you will join me on this trip through the next few months, as I once in a while share with you the beauty of this natural change, as it gradually commences in my views.

"By Any Other Name..."

2011-09-13T08:42:00.000+02:00

"... would smell as sweet".
This Shakespearean quote seems somehow so very appropriate to initiate this post with. And as you read along further, it will become soon clear why.

It has been a while ago since Batcat was featured in my writing. And many of you, curiously enough, have recently inquired about his well being.
Thus I decided to dedicate yet another post to my faithful traveler through life and my partner in crime, my furry friend - having been my devoted companion for the last eight years.

In that time span, he has been called many names and each name made him into a certain personality, yet in my eyes he has always been the same jovial feline, brightening my days and making me smile.

Batcats real name is actually Samson.
I named him that way when I collected him as a tiny, six weeks old kitten from a farm, some hundred miles north of where I lived. He screamed his lungs out the whole drive back home (and still detests being in a car). I contemplated many different names, wanting to keep the letter S, as apparently cats names should be starting with one. I have no idea where I have heard that or if it is even true. Still, when the name Samson entered my mind, I knew right away that it was the one, thus it was chosen - but come to think of it - never used.

My first serious boyfriend, with whom I acquired the cat named him Daloon. As in Da - Loon. Or The Loon. Perhaps because his eyes as a kitten were at all times huge like saucers and he was always looking for trouble, defying anything that came in his way. Never giving up or giving in, already as a kitten proving he was a REAL cat. A fighter.
He refused to be confided in a cardboard box and already as a tiny little thing was roaming our apartment. When we tried to prevent him from entering an open staircase by blocking it with cardboard as well - afraid he might fall through the stairs and be injured - he found a way of climbing the narrow space between the stairs and the wall by pushing himself upwards on his little paws - an incredible accomplishment and sign of resilience and determination.

When the Irishman came into my life, he very quickly established that Daloon was no Loon, but a Superhero. To him he looked like a feline Batman and thus he named him Batcat. This was when I started my blog and thus to everyone here my cat was known by this name.

The name Batact has however been abandoned for quiet a while now and another name has gained hold. My new family call him today Sammy, a name instigated by the man I love and inspired by the original name; Samson.

Well, no matter the name, my devoted cat is my everything.
My baby and the one living, comforting soul that has been waiting for me in the dark house when I returned from work for all those years living on my own. The one who made my old house feel alive, when it was so quiet, deserted and still. That one living being that always stuck by my side when everyone else left me. The one into whose fur I cried bitter tears when I was feeling the loneliest I have have ever been...
And the one who I hugged when I was the happiest I have ever been as well.

These days, I am not the only one whose life has changed dramatically. Even Sammy has undergone changes of major proportions.
He has been uprooted, relocated and furthermore been introduced to the outside.
Being an inside cat his whole life, the outside to him is as overwhelming as it would be for the common man to fly into space.

Today Sammy is however a content cat. Just like me, being almost middle aged, he is starting all over again. And just like me, he has finally come home - and in his case in more than just the abstract sense - I recently realized he was born on a farm only a stone throw away from where we live today.
How funny is that.

(All images in this post are of Sammy exploring and enjoying the surroundings of his new home, summer 2011)

Jade And Silver.

2011-09-08T08:00:00.009+02:00

Sea is my fascination.
In case you have not noticed.
The vast body of water instigates in my perception a sense of endless liberation. Thus living in proximity to an ocean is almost a must for me.

I left behind the Danish east coast and a beautiful, calm and tranquil bay - something I will always miss.
However, my new home is a stone-throw away from stunning, wide, westbound beaches, surrounded by the powerful North Sea.

I will forever stand in awe on the shores of this untamed body of blue. To be there - at any time - is simply one of a kind experience. There is an indescribably potent force in these tempestuous waters, something that became lucidly evident on our most recent walk.

It was in the late afternoon, during somewhat mixed weather conditions which included sun, wind and rain. Even though the air was still relatively warm, the change of seasons hung heavily in the air, producing sights that reinforced the omnipotence of this unspoiled and pristine coastline.
There was a sense of raw power in the foaming waves, as the jade green waters rose high against the dark blue horizon, their ridges turning into salty aerosol at the mercy of the wind. The thunderheads drew closer and eventually the surrounding landscape grew simply enchanted, as the sun rays painted the surf in silver, creating a fantasy snapshot, eternalizing an unforgettable moment in time...

(Please click images for a larger view.)

Carefree Highway.

2011-09-05T07:52:00.001+02:00

My former drive to work was wonderful due to two reasons; it took me by the ocean side and it was short. Upon my recent relocation, neither of the above facts remained.

I love my work endlessly and as I am not keen on introducing too many changes into my life, I decided to keep my old employment, at least initially. Thus every day, my little car takes me on a round-trip that comprises a total of some two-hundred miles and about three hours commuting. A far cry from those fifteen minutes it took me once to drive to work.

However, being an undying optimist, I am slowly adapting to my new routine of long distance driving and I actually enjoy it. Of course, there are some setbacks.
I no longer get to see the sea on every day bases, I cry every day I have to fill up the tank as I see literally money being washed down the drain. I encounter many obnoxious, ignorant drivers and I have realized that driving in heavy rain gives me the creeps. The worst of them all is nevertheless by no means the fact that I waste three hours of my day on being confided inside a car.

With all that said though, the highway that I travel on takes me through some stunning scenery and when the sun shines and the traffic is light, the ride is very pleasant.
I have only a tape deck in the car, thus for a few hours each day I revert to my teenage years as I go through a stack of old tapes, some of them made several decades ago. I keep them stashed on the backseat and each time I sit behind the wheel, I enjoy choosing a new trip through my musical past.

The ride has by now become monotone of course. Gone is the excitement of the initial days, when I sat tensed in the seat, trying to concentrate on the traffic around me, feeling so out of place on a highway early in the morning. Now-days I recognize each turn and each exit, I know all the speed limits, the places of congestion and the traffic signs. Nevertheless, my little car almost never drove faster than 35mph for a span of ten years. Thus when I accelerate to speeds that I did not think the little Toyota was capable of, I still feel that tingling of excitement in the pit of my stomach, while the speakers convey my favourite harmonies and beats.

I do love the drive home particularly. Due to my odd working hours, I drive past the rush hour and at times the highway is empty and carefree, almost like a wide runaway for my personal use. I sip my new brewed coffee, while I let my mind wonder, digesting the events of the day, winding down slowly, while beautiful natural images pass by the windows. I watch the sun set on my left and I know that by each passing mile I am getting closer to home - and to the loving arms of my man.

Unfortunately, I know that in a couple of months, this drive will be of a quiet different kind. As we reach the end of autumn and the days will grow darker and grey, when snow and rain will be my companions and only the headlights or tail lights of passing cars my beacons, I will recollect with an occasional longing those fifteen minutes it once took me to get home.

Still, there is one thought that will keep me warm and safe through my long drive - the thought of a lit house with warmth and love inside, the one waiting for me at the destination. Indeed, once it took me only a fraction of the time to come home, but I came home to a dark and empty place, devoid of happiness and affection.

I would not go back to that ever again and would drive a thousand miles if I had to. To get back home.

(Note: All images in this post and below are taken during my beautiful drive home.)

Gypsy Mirabelle.

2011-09-01T08:04:00.001+02:00

What a truly striking, exotic name.
Those two words bring to mind images of a sultry, dark haired beauty dancing around a campfire in flowing colorful skirts with flowers in her hair.

However, this is the name of a lovely plum tree that grows at the outskirts of our garden and right now produces fruits in the hundreds. For weeks now the bright red plums have been dropping down, covering our lawn, spilling onto a nearby road, while my new family seems quiet oblivious to this fact. I however, who has never "owned" a fruit tree in my life find this as endless source of excitement, even though I am sorry to say most of the fruit will never be used. Except for those few eaten by me.
I guess it is time to learn how how to make jam.

I truly enjoy going through this time of discovery, slowly getting to know not just my new house and home, but also the beautiful and untamed garden that surrounds it. It seems that each new season offers novel surprises and I relish in making acquaintance with the natural wonders just outside my windows.

Our Home.

2011-08-29T07:49:00.003+02:00

I remember very vividly, actually in minute details, the first time I visited the place that I call home today.
It was a wonderful spring Saturday, sunny and warm. The air was saturated by scents of the first bloom and something else, something novel yet very tangible - the sense of expectations and perhaps awakenings.
Natural and personal as well.

That day has since then become part of my most precious recollection, which consists of the most unforgettable moments in my life. In no uncertain terms, I experienced happiness to the extend I have not known by then. Having endured a very trying and devastating period in my life, one that barely ended by then, it felt as if I have been through the fires of purgatory and suddenly crossed the gates to paradise...

I recall particularly sitting on a covered patio, enjoying the warmth of a setting sun and a sharing a glass of wine with a man that was basically a stranger, yet who felt so familiar, so safe and so very exciting simultaneously. And I remember very strongly the persistent urge of not ever wanting to leave him.

Of course little did I know then that only a few months down the road, at one point I would indeed come back to stay for good. I moved in and am still in the process of doing so - little by little some more of my possessions find their way onto the shelves and into his cabinets and closets, which he only observes with amusement.

Thus slowly his home is becoming my home as well, even though it will take a while for me to stop feeling like a guest, something I have come to respect and accept. However, the transition has so far been so incredibly smooth and effortless, as even though it is a home of a man, it is cosy, loving, charming and warm. Just like the man himself.

Until we one day are able to purchase a home together, I relish in exploring the many sides of the man I love, by exploring the place where he has invited me to stay forever - our home.

(Please click on images for a larger view)

Solitude At Daybreak.

2011-08-25T08:05:00.002+02:00

For years, my exercise consisted of a daily morning run on a treadmill located in the basement of my old house. It was easy and it was practical, having my own gym within reach. It also made it harder to have any excuses not to run.

Upon my recent relocation, my old treadmill has been left behind and thus I have adapted a different exercise routine, the one practiced by my new family. A novel concept to me; running outside. Stepping onto a natural ground, finding a rhythm in following the versatile terrain and enjoying (or fighting) the elements.

Thus three times a week, I get up at daybreak and set out on a run through the sleeping neighbourhood, by now on a fairly familiar route, which eventually takes me onto a path around a nearby lake.

I have come to cherish this tranquil time in complete solitude. As I jog along the solitary path, I very rarely meet anyone but the occasional dog walker or elderly couples on their first stroll of the day. As a naturally early riser, I enjoy the stillness of a newborn day, heading outside, inhaling the morning scents and stepping on the dew covered ground. Most of all I love to visit the lake at this hour, when mist still lingers upon its surface and the first sun rays burst from behind the trees.
My morning run has certainly become one of my new found simple pleasures.

(All image in this post are taken with my iPone on a recent run, during a beautiful late August morning.)

Twenty One Grams.

2011-08-22T07:57:00.000+02:00

There is a theory, somewhat controversial and often discredited, which proposes that when a human being passes on, the body weights exactly twenty one grams less then when alive. Thus it has been suggested that this is the weight of a soul.

I wonder, if one could weigh my white house on the hill today, whether it woudl be weighing less than when I lived there. As these days it certainly feels as if the "soul has left the building".

Selling a home is a strange process. No matter the reason, whether one wants to do it or is forced to, there is a certain feel of termination of life in this conduct.
I believe a home is created.
It is built out of love and affection and supported by people, by their laughter and tears and foremost by their presence. Once this is removed from a building, it becomes an empty framework, a lifeless construction, a foreign place.

I take very little pleasure in visiting the house these days.
I do it nevertheless - out of necessity - on regular bases and will continue to do so until it is sold. The selling however is not going all that well I am afraid, considering the financial crises that has spread once again through the world like an infectious disease.

Thus the house, that one place that once brought me joy, safety and comfort has now become a burden. A lifeless shell, a forced commitment, a financial affliction. It comes across like shackles around my ankles, keeping me imprisoned in the past, preventing me from moving on into my future.
It is today a far cry from the place I once knew and loved, so endlessly removed from my perception, demanding my care and draining my energy.

I never ever believed that I would feel these kind of emotions. They are a mixture of sadness, deep melancholy and a bittersweet recollection of another life all together. One that is only removed a few months in time, but decades in my perception.
It is a very odd realization and a truly shocking surprise.

Thus I linger there only for a moment.
Almost immediately upon entering I am enveloped by a feeling of being in a foreign place. My things are still there - I recognize all the furniture and the decor - but it does not feel at all cosy or familiar. Even the scent is different. I catch myself being in a hurry as I water the plants, open the windows, sort through the surface mail. Dust of the shelves, sweep the floor.
I simply can not wait to be on my way again.

In short moments though, when I gaze at the framed photographs of familiar faces and sit down for an instant, gazing out of my westbound windows at a stunning landscape and open sky - a wave of memories comes sweeping back.
But they do not stay with me, it seems they only pass me by, reminding me to remain thankful and most of all respectful.

They caution me to never ever forget the beautiful moments I once spend between these walls, together with all the people that helped me made it a home.

One day I will leave it forever.
It will become a shelter for someone new, keeping them happy and safe.
One day new life will move into the white house on a hill and bring back its soul.

Liquid Gold.

2011-08-18T08:15:00.004+02:00

At times, I truly miss my westerly views.
Those of magnificent sunsets, that played out like light shows in front of my windows at the white house on the hill.

But as always in life; you gain some and you loose some. Thus having lived at the east coast for a decade, my new home at the west coast offers novel views that take my breath away.

Recently, I got the chance to see the sun set over the rough North Sea, something I have never witness before.
The beaches here are wide and they stretch some hundred miles in each direction, with the sand so tightly packed, that cars are allowed to drive across the wast surface, on a sorts of a "highway". The sea is powerful and the horizon free and unlimited.

The skies were cloudy on that particular evening, yet that did not deter at all from the allure of the experience - on the contrary, it only reinforced the pristine enchantment of this rugged, unprotected west coast, known for its strong undercurrents and magnificent surf.

I watched the sun move lower to meet the surface of the waters, as my entire being savored the romantic moment, in the warm and loving arms of a perfect man.
While we gazed in silence at the smoky boundaries, the heavens above slowly shifted colour, anything from light blue and anthracite grey into deep purple and red. Eventually the fiery disc turned a strip of the sea into liquid gold, the wild waters embracing the shores, turning so flamboyant in their untamed beauty, instigating so undoubtedly the sense of absolute freedom...

Emotions Of Change.

2011-08-15T07:38:00.005+02:00

Change - a term full of contradictions, yet the only constant in life.
Changes are never easy and feel more complicated and dramatic the older we get, but they are vital and important if we want to live fully and completely.

I do not think that I exaggerate, when I claim being an expert at changes. My life has been altered numerous times - in fact I feel that at this point it consists of several life times, woven together into an intricate personality tapestry, making me into who I am.

Thus today, while being in the process of altering my life once again, I know pretty accurately what to expect. I have over the years learned several vital facts about myself and about human nature over all, the most important being that we posses an uncanny way to adapt to new situations - something that makes us such a successful living species here on Earth. And I believe that those individuals that master this ability with an ease will always thrive and prosper.

Having made drastic changes in my life in the past, I know that my psyche undergoes a very interesting transformation and I go through many different emotional stages. I know at this point that it is extremely important to acknowledge them and process them all, as they reflect my state of mind. To ignore them would have devastating effect on my future well being.

So what exactly are my emotions of change?

Initially, there is that overwhelming feeling of excitement, almost exhilaration and the feeling of being invincible. It comes close to a reality denial, or a certain reality numbness.
Everything is possible.
This can last for extended period of time and gives rise to many moments of daydreaming, being a constant source of energy and happiness. Every change in my life came because I was looking for it and was yearning for it. Nevertheless the changes that actually do occur are unpredictable and are a result of combination of events, thus often the change we chose brings about in its turn some changes that we never planned on. Therefore slowly, the excitement recedes, but should still linger in the background, if we feel the changes we are making are the right ones.

As the exhilarating emotions subside, there is a time of awakening. A reality check. This can be more or less abrupt and a sobering experience, realizing all the practical aspect of a change and concluding that no matter how we turn the coin around, it has always two sides - and that good comes with the bad. Often at this point, there are feelings of fear and the mind is filled with anxious thoughts, at times deep worries and even remorse. "Better the devil you know" is a term so appropriate in this context. It is often very unnerving to undergo a change, even if the change is good, because the familiar - however bad and unsatisfactory - always feels so safe.

Here it is thus very important to realize, in my opinion, that every change consists of two stages; a loss and a gain. To acknowledge the loss is extremely vital, at least it is to me. I need to be allowed to part with what was, small ceremonies if you will and moments to mourn. I need to say farewell to my past in order to be able to move on into the future and to be able to accept the gain - as something good and new, rewarding and brilliant.

Once I leave the past in the past, hence comes the process of transformation, relocation and adaptation. I often feel I gain a second wind here, become more optimistic and full of energy, realizing - the change is happening now. A certain point of no return instigates a feeling of accomplishment and fresh resolutions, new starts and new beginnings. These are often not easy times and can result in a mixed outlet of tears and laughter, but these are the moments that usher us into our new existence.

And thus a new reality starts, an alteration of at times major proportions. A time of adaptation and discovery, a time of incredible personal growth and a realization of the endless strength we posses and what capable beings we actually are. Ultimately we gain an awareness of all the magic that exists in life, at all times available for us to seize, if we only dare to.
The many changes I have undertaken in the past have made me realize that life is truly beautiful - if we only have the courage to live it.

Pure Magenta.

2011-08-13T12:22:00.000+02:00

Ever since I was a little girl, my dream has been to live in a small cottage, somewhere in a beautiful countryside.
So far I have to admit to have lived in beautiful places and in beautiful surroundings, but the cottage dream is still only a dream.

I have always loved the romantic images of low, aging, thatched-roofed dwellings with semi-wild gardens, those that give a feeling of abundance and unrestricted growth, hidden from view. And full of hollyhocks.

Called a stokrose in Danish, which translate something like a rose on a stick, these beautiful flowers adorn the outside walls of many farms and cottages up here North, creating a living, colourful hedge. They can be found in many colours, anything from white and yellow to pink, magenta and deep red.

Once again, just like in the spring, when I realized that lilacs bloom in the garden of my new home, this summer a beautiful Hollyhock adorned outer walls of the house - another signs send by the heavens, reassuring me to stay on the path I have taken.
Thus until I one day indeed live in a cottage, this stunning beauty of pure magenta brings that dream somewhat closer.

The Time Of Transition.

2011-08-11T08:20:00.003+02:00

The last sun-rays of a late summer sun illuminate my face, while I sit on a sheltered patio in a place that was unknown to me just a few months back. Yet which today instigates in me a sense of security and familiarity.

Closing my eyes, trying to recollect all that has come to pass since I last time updated this online diary, I become overwhelmed by a wave of sentimental emotions, as I attempt to recapture in words the essence of my current state of mind.
A product of events which has come to define my reality in a surprising way.

On so many occasions recently have I found myself pondering with amusement the relativity of time. We can go on for years, even decades, stuck in routines and the same old tracks, while our days move uneventfully, melting together into a time frame that moves in slow motion. Yet contradictory, a span of only a few weeks can come across as if a lifetime has passed, when defining moments and significant changes alter our present.

As I have gotten older, some very important notions have become my life philosophy; to never ever loose the courage to make a change, to never grow cynical and to never loose hope. To always follow ones heart and to stay true to ones beliefs, being at all times willing to take a leap of faith, no matter what dark abyss stares back in our face. To never be deterred by mistakes and setbacks, sorrows and pain. I am fully convinced that in life we get our share of the good and the bad in perfect balance – it is only up to us how we choose to handle both.

These days, my white house on the hill stands quiet and abandoned. A FOR SALE sign adorns the lawn, while I am slowly moving all my possessions north, in order to start a new life with the man that I love. And his three wonderful children.

I am in a time of transition and as we all know, that can occasionally come across as slightly unnerving. I am leaving behind a decade of experiences and memories, as well as a life that will never return. I am parting with my old companions - solitude, independence and mundane routines of a solitary existence - those that were my reality for so many years. However much I disliked them at times, they were all I knew and thus every now and then I feel a certain sense of sadness realizing those days are truly concluded. Additionally, I feel a sense of apprehension about what is to come. My future is novel and as I am about to enter an uncharted territory, I know in no uncertain terms that hardship awaits, because I know every change is a combination of happiness and sorrow.

Yet, I am not afraid.

I feel excited and ready to open a new chapter in my life, which includes family and love. I am about to embark on a voyage of a brand new personal era, one that will bring my way novel adventures and experiences, which will enrich my perception and create unforgettable moments. I feel confidant and convinced that I am heading towards a rewarding future after so many years of standing still.

As the sun sets behind the tree tops, the skies no longer offer spectacular sunsets that I am used to witness from the windows of my white house on the hill. Thus a sting of melancholy, almost remorse enters my mind, as I will have to part with a place that I called home for so many years, a place that I loved with all my heart and soul...
But then I recall what a stranger once said to me;
“Home is defined by people, not places.
And ultimately by your heart...”

Just then, as my mind contemplates this statement, the distant laughter of children interrupted by the voice of a man that makes my heart skip a beat, both resonating from within the walls behind me, envelops me like a warm blanket, making me feel safe and endlessly happy - and then I know in no uncertain terms that I have indeed finally come home.

(Note: All images in this post are taken in my new home, some 90 miles north of the "white house on the hill".)

Time To Live.

2011-06-27T11:03:00.002+02:00

As we are about to enter the seventh month, a genuine perception of summer is so very palpable in my surroundings. It is my favorite part of the annual span, as this enigmatic season so effortlessly entices my entire body and soul.

This year it will enter my recollection as a unique period in my life. One that has brought my way a sought after change, fulfilling my dreams and desires upon years of standing still.
It is thus time for me to give into the allure of life when it is at its best.

It is time to live. Fully and unconditionally.

Currently I find myself mostly on the road, sharing my days between my old home and my new home. Therefore I increasingly neglect certain aspects of my reality, blogging being one of them. I love writing my online diary endlessly, yet I find very little opportunity to do so and even less to visit all of you.
To just keep posting and and not returning your lovely visits is not just joyless, but also somewhat unfair. Thus I have decided to take a long blog break - a needed break to savour and focus on the off line world for a while.

I hope you will not forget about me, as I surely will not forget any of you. I intend to return once the last rich summer month is closing towards its end, bringing with it the shift of seasons, with writing saturated by new experiences full of sweet contemplations and poignant reflections.

Have a wonderful summer everyone - see you soon.

Xoxo
Zuzana

Enchanted Evening Sky.

2011-06-24T11:33:00.003+02:00

I have stated numerous times in the past how much I love the month of June. I love this month due so many reasons.
I relish in its youth - as it is the first month of the summer.
I relish in its bloom - as it is the month when all my fragrant shrubs and bushes bloom.
And most of all - I relish in its light - as it it is the month of white nights and the summer solstice.

I am summer child and as such I am vivacious and full of life and passion. I also hold a certain sensitivity to natural wonders and thus I will forever stand mesmerized when watching the evening heavens in the sixth month of the year, the annual midpoint.

This year, the longest day of the solstice offered spectacular skies, which came across as endlessly enchanting, almost divine or biblical, full of dramatic thunderheads with shooting sun-ray beams, painting my westerly view in cool azure blue mixed with platinum white and anthracite grey, adding a hint of warm orange.

Trying to eternalize the evening skies with my camera, I was overwhelmed by a plethora of sentimental emotions. Prevailingly a certain soft sadness, bordering on gentle melancholy, as I became aware of one unmistakable fact - once again the threshold of light has been crossed...

At Peace.

2011-06-20T08:42:00.002+02:00

Almost half of this year has passed.
June signifies in no uncertain terms that we are midway through the annual cycle of life. It also represents my absolutely favorite month of all, when light rules my world and perception.
As I savour the moment, I feel an onset of sweet nostalgia, looking back over such a short period in time, yet so significant in my own reality.

My life has changed drastically in the last six months. It started with a sense of a change in the air, turning into period of pain and sorrow, loss and confusion. Then as if by magic, my world turned around and I entered a time of peace and tranquility.

My life has become equivalent to a dream. I pinch myself at times, wondering whether I am indeed awake. Happiness of this caliber has until now escaped me and holding it in my hand, I try to hold onto it firmly yet not too tight. That which I have been searching for so aimlessly for many decades has finally presented itself to me, so freely and coincidentally, yet as if it always been in the stars for me.

I feel finally fulfilled and completed. I feel loved and I love. I feel at home and I feel I belong. I feel my future is free and undetermined, with a potential of great adventures to unravel, yet it feels safe, secure and sheltered.
And so do I.

Therefore this immense content has greatly affected my writing inspiration and my writing content.
My mind is not triggered into any serious contemplations, and has thus become slightly docile and inactive. I find myself in a period of tranquility, where inner peace rules my perception. I no longer commit my thinking to soul searching, nor are my reflections asking questions or hunting for answers.
It has made me wonder whether our wisdom is only born out of pain. And whether true learning only comes from hardship and experiences that arise solely from events that went wrong.

There is one question I do however keep asking myself constantly - what can I take with me into the future from this amazing and content part of my life?
Perhaps it has it been brought my way to reinforce my belief in the good and the divine. In love and trust. In destiny and happy endings.
Perhaps.
Or it is simply a reward for my long travels and fierce battles, and for not ever loosing my optimism and hope.

Then again - perhaps I am not meant to question anything at all. Perhaps I am simply suppose to give into the incredible allure of life when it is at its best, enjoying the sweet moments of bliss that are brought my way, accepting them unconditionally and completely, without inquiries and assessments.

Perhaps good things do come to those who wait and the best in life is always yet to come.

(Images: Photobucket)

Fragrant Neglect.

2011-06-17T08:30:00.000+02:00

These days I spend somewhat limited time in my white house on the hill. Instead, almost every weekend I am adding miles to my little Toyota engine, as my faithful car takes me up north to a place that is increasingly becoming my new home.

Thus my terrace and garden are suffering from a certain mild neglect. The patio tiles are surrounded by weed and I have not planted any seasonal flowers since early this spring.

My potted plants are luckily all evergreens and they seem to be nevertheless thriving quiet well and have grown beyond belief. The garden is now displaying the bloom of all my fragrant bushes and shrubs, such as jasmine, caprifolium and a variety of roses.
Despite the lack of my attention, the growth proceeds undisturbed in an uncanny way.

The other morning, as I stepped outside with a cup of coffee, I had to linger there for a while, inhaling the perfumed morning air, saturated by dew and scents of June bloom.
A faint, slightly undetermined feeling encompassed my entire being, a mixture of sweet melancholy and subtle sentimental longing with a hint of excitement. My mind became aware of an approaching finale of a certain personal era, while my consciousness captured mental shots of a moment in time - one that might never ever repeat itself again....

(Please click image for a larger view)

Locks Of Hair.

2011-06-15T08:24:00.001+02:00

I am returning after almost fourteen days of absence back to the online world. I never envisioned to be away for this long and I would certainly have warned everyone that such was the case, would I have known it myself beforehand.

The best in life is however that which is spontaneous and unplanned and I have simply decided to give into beautiful moments, letting my guard down and forgetting my routines. I have done so with great satisfaction, spending the last two weeks with people that mean the world to me.

I have rewritten this post numerous times as often one lacks words to adequately describe happiness and content.
Thus eventually I decided to announce here only one single piece of news:

I have cut my long hair.

Yes I did. My very long, way below my waste hair, my pride and joy.
And it feels really good.

This was an action not initiated by me - yet I surprised myself to have agreed to it, despite the fact that I shun beauty saloons and have not let my hair nowhere near any scissors for almost eight years.

Ultimately I guess that is the allure of life - when we least expect it, change will enter our reality with an unprecedented ease. It will come softly and without effort and we will give into it without fear.

While I watched the hairstylist work her magic, locks of my old hair kept falling silently onto the floor in the beauty parlor. I then realized there was so much symbolism in those discarded strands. I felt in a strange way liberated from lapsed years of my life, those filled with hardships and to a certain degree stagnation. Now they were left forever in the past, where they belonged.
Not forgotten, simply just concluded.

I realized in no uncertain terms that I am about to move on - and the hair cut is only the beginning.

Scented Lilac.

2011-06-02T08:19:00.002+02:00

Lilac is one of my favorite blooming shrubs. It holds so much significance in my perception, as its unique scent brings back so many happy memories.

The aroma regresses my childhood and most of all my teenage years, when the bouquet of the purple flowers would saturate the air, signaling the onset of summer - and in its turn, the carefree days of the approaching holidays.

Even today, every time I encounter a lilac shrub in bloom, I have to linger for a while, closing my eyes while I inhale that fresh fragrance of the flowering bunch, making me recollect and reminiscence, defying the laws of time.

Ultimately those brief moments remind me of that one single vital fact - the best in life is indeed free and locked into a few simple pleasures.

In no uncertain terms such was my recent encounter, finding this purple treasure blooming in scented abundance - in the same place where I found true love. Yet another symbol send by the universe, reassuring me that after all the detours and wrong turns I ever took in my past, I am at last traveling on the right path, moving in the right direction...

One Good Friend.

2011-05-30T08:33:00.002+02:00

“Everyone needs friends. At least one good one”.

I remember those words like it was yesterday, uttered by my very first online acquaintance.

I met her in the beginning of the nineties. Internet and online communications were in their infancy, yet I already then developed an avid interest for online communities, as suddenly a whole new world of interactions was opening up to my perception.

She became my real close friend for a couple of years, a confidant that I shared my thoughts with. There was something safe in the fact that I shared my secrets with basically a stranger, thousands of miles away from me, someone I never met, yet a living, breathing soul who could offer words of empathy and comfort.

Being far away from my established friends and my family, having left everything behind on another continent a few years prior, I realized that making real life friends as an adult was a task light years removed from the time when I was a child.

Me and My Best Friend in 1989

As a little girl I made friends easily. I lost them easily too, but in no time new would come along and I never ever recall being a solitary child or having the feeling of being left out. I had an overabundance of friends at all times; some were children I admired, some were those who admired me and then there was at least one good friend. My very best friend that liked me exactly for who I was and shared my innermost secrets and dreams with me. Already then I perceived easily how important this very fact was.

Once my parents immigrated to Sweden, our family went through a mental transition, one that deserves its own exclusive post. To leave ones country - what at that time was assumed as forever - is not something one easily recovers from and the experiences of immigration shaped my early teenager years.
Nevertheless, I still made friends. I found quickly that initially I was drawn to other children, which just like me found themselves as foreigners in another country. We were brought together due to our similar fate and felt unified due to our situation.
As time progressed and my family became successfully integrated in the new society and our new country became our home, as a teenager I slowly made friends with Swedish kids, even though I with amusement must admit that they all had foreign ties, in one way or another.

Me And My Sister In 1994

During this time, my sister became my very best friend. I recall still today our long daily talks. We discussed everything between heaven and earth and I always looked forward to finding her at home when I returned from school, as we would sit in mine or her room for hours, recollecting our day.

I kept my university friends when I started to work and when I moved away from home on my own, I had a well-established network with only a few friends, but still friends I liked and could count on. The phone was never off the hook and I never felt alone – in fact at times I wish I was.

When I left Sweden as a young adult and moved to the other side of the Atlantic, I quickly found myself in a situation that required solitude and discretion and making friends became suddenly impossible.
And then one day it just happened, as I went through life’s ups and downs, traveled the paths less traveled I found that as an adult I became scrutinized by others, at times viewed as threat and interference and felt unwelcome into new established friendship circles. At the best I could make brief and superficial acquaintances.
It dawned on me then that the connections we make as young are golden.

Whether it is the mindset of younger years, the ability to bounce back so easily or whether it is the will and interest to genuinely get to know people - nevertheless, childhood friends are the ones we should try to keep. There is something infinitely comforting to have known - and have been known by - someone for decades, to have followed them through life’s turmoil and to have shared so many unforgettable moments. It is a magic I will sadly never experience.

I still keep in touch with many of my old friends, those that I made during my teenage years. Still, life has brought us in different directions and the closeness we once felt is long gone. Today, after having lived more than a decade in a new country, I cannot state to have made many new friends.
However life has taught me that it is not the quantity but the quality that counts in the end.
Maybe that is the difference between the friendships we strike as young and the one we do as adults.

Me And Elizabeth

Thus I would like to dedicate this post to my one and only true confidant, my very best adult friend Elizabeth who has become my light in the dark – and serendipitously we met through our common love for a nearby lighthouse.
Her concern and genuine care has kept me sane through many recent storms over the past two years. She has shared my deepest secrets and I hers and her beautiful and unblemished mind and candid empathy has made me once again trust in the goodness of people, corroborating my belief that we should pay attention to who destiny brings our way. Each and every encounter has a higher meaning and the people we meet always have a role to play in our lives.

I have today reached the conclusion that we cannot go thorough life alone. As much as we need shelter and food, we also need love and companionship. And at least one good friend.

There are no rules that define a true friend; however often it is the hardship of life that shows us that true friendship can come from the most unusual and unexpected places.

Accession To Midnight Sun.

2011-05-26T08:35:00.002+02:00

In about twenty days, we will reach the enticing Summer Solstice. The time when daylight rules our world and the midnight sun colours the heavens.
Thus the month of May and June comprises my absolute favorite time of the year, one that is defined by light. Additionally, it is signified by almost daily sunsets that take my breath away, combined with stunning views of the evening sky.

I will never ever get tired of my late spring - early summer vistas, as I watch - almost daily - when the fiery disc meets the horizon in a covert kiss, colouring it by plethora of fiery brushstrokes, causing it to blush upon this romantic encounter. As the sun vanishes beneath the dark silhouette of the Earth, the heavens turn slowly orange and then purple. Shortly after midnight they gain the hue of silver blue - however never ebony.
The sun is absent for only a portion of the night, yet its imminent presence can clearly be felt throughout the time of twilight, until it reappears in the small hours of the morning, submerging my world in a rosy sunrise.

This is the culmination of the white nights, a countdown to midnight sun. A time of magic and enchantment here in Scandinavia.
Yet, no matter the culture or location, the sun has been worshiped by humans all across our world for millennia - ever since the primitive man recognized its vital potential.
The allure of the golden star continues to mesmerize us even today and will in the future, despite the progress and technology which rule and explain our reality. Humanity will endlessly maintain a strong urge to hold onto that which is beyond our control and beyond any clarification, that which entices us and keeps us standing back in awe.

(Below a selection of May sunsets and evening/early night skies, as seen from my windows. Please click each image for larger view.)

A Safe Harbour.

2011-05-23T08:31:00.003+02:00

These days, my entire being is consumed by feelings of unfamiliar content. A certain kind of absolute happiness, which I yet have to adequately grasp, in order to precisely define, as it is so unknown to my perception.

I have been happy before, but NEVER like this.

The emotions that consume me are so very difficult to convey - however I feel that I am exactly at the right place with the right person.
I have never felt so much at home.
Nor have I ever before made anyone feel exactly the same way in return.

A realization occurred to me recently.

A notion that life does progress in stages.
It is my belief that we need to complete each stage in the order it is presented to us. We can not bypass any predicaments, however painful and unfair they might appear and we can not escape that which is predestined.
Today I understand the there is a master plan behind every event, even those that leave us in bitter tears and despair. As when we endure those times, we will encounter occurrences that surpass everything we have ever known.
We will enter a place in time and space that defies that which we comprehend and we will experience unforgettable moments. Those that leave us breathless and reinforce our belief in the magical and enchanting.
In the spiritual and in the divine.

These days my life seems altered.
As if it has been redefined in a novel way. The pieces finally fit and everything around me seems brighter. The sunshine, the skies, the vernal bloom. Even the faces of strangers. My senses are heightened and my perception transformed. My whole being feels like an intricate and delicate clockwork, one that has been still and silent for what seems like an eternity and which has suddenly started to function and move because the right hands have mended it.

All those journeys that I have undertaken, many in raging storms and hostile seas, seem so removed from my perception as I have sailed into a safe harbour.
For the first time in my adult life I experience a strong urge to drop anchors - for extended period of time.

Perhaps - finally - for good.

(Images: Photobucket)

White Stallion.

2011-05-19T20:28:00.001+02:00

Recently I experienced a couple of days of absolute magic.

A weekend filled with unforgettable moments spend in the company of two special people -
my very dear friend Elizabeth, my greatest confidant and sister from another mother - and the man that makes my heart soar like an eagle. A man like no other, one that has changed my world around...

In my perception, happiness is measured by experiences that leave us wanting more. Time etched in our memory, creating recollections that will last a life time.

The weekend included a memorable walk near my home, on a beautiful evening, so very defined by the white light of Scandinavian summer nights and the vigor of the northern air.
As we walked towards the sunset, taking in the allure of the moment, our faces were caressed by vernal wind gusts and our eyes mesmerized by the sight of dramatic skies and breathtaking views...

At one point we made an enchanting encounter with a stunning White Stallion. This beautiful animal, full of stamina and vitality left an everlasting impression upon all of us.
A symbolic representation of purity, grace, endurance, loyalty, romance and chivalry - it in no uncertain terms illustrates so very eloquently the current state of my mind and the contents of my life...

(All the photographs in this post are taken by me, by the man that makes me endlessly happy and by my dear friend Elizabeth. Please click each image for a larger view.)

The Allure Of Time.

2011-05-17T08:29:00.002+02:00

Lately, I have been thinking a great deal about the relativity of time.

A few years back I wrote a post related to this issue and recently I returned to it, re-reading the thoughts of my younger self, wondering whether the same sentiments still occupy my contemplation.
I have realized that although basically my views are still the same, my affection for and my perception of time has certainly shifted.

When I wrote that piece, just a year prior I ended a prodigal and trying period of my life. I felt terribly derelict, as I indeed failed on so many levels in my life and was left drained, disillusioned and feeling very old. Today of course I look back at that time with wiser eyes and a tranquil mind. It no longer feels like a failure, but rather a vital experience that was essential in shaping me into who I am.

I have realized that much of my younger years were spent in the waiting line. For as long as I recall, I always waited for something or someone.
Something to come my way, something to resolve, something to come true, something to at last occur. Someone to finally see me. Want me. To find me.

Months turned into years and time became my enemy. It felt wasted and it moved slowly, lacking in progress, draining my energy. I felt paralyzed and disillusioned as none of what I expected and dreamed about came to pass. A sense of panic kept rising within me constantly, while I wondered whether I simply expected too much or whether I was on the wrong path, one that was leading nowhere.

I guess wisdom came to me with age.
I realized in my maturity that stepping out into the unknown was the key to unlocking the allure of time. To completely give into and surrender to ones feelings, to trust ones instincts and to remain completely honest - with oneself and others - without fear. To never shun away from making changes, however challenging they appear.
To take a true leap of faith.
Good things can indeed come to us even late in the game. Our age certainly does not limit our possibilities nor lower our capabilities.

Within the last eight months I have experienced more than I ever had in the course of several years in my past, even in my youth. I have had the privilege to encounter life's altering events and have felt a plethora of emotions, within a broad spectra; anything from exhilarating happiness to tragic sadness.
Time has been completely redefined in my perception.
An hour has today the potential to bring about incredible progress. The term "What a difference a day makes" has never rang more true in my ears. The realization that life can change so much in a blink of an eye has shifted the way I live.

Today I know that we are the true masterminds of our time.
Despite the fact that we indeed hold very little control over our future, we still have the power to shift the direction of our present.

Time is the greatest gift we have been given and its allure is endless if we only seize each and every day, like it is our last.
I am glad that I stepped out of the waiting line.

(Images: Photobucket)

Vernal Culmination.

2011-05-15T15:51:00.000+02:00

As the second season reaches its peak, my surroundings are now saturated with the colour of vibrant bloom, mixed with that delicate soft green of young foliage, making me at all times stand back in awe and admiration. I try to hold onto these moments in time, with all my senses and my perception, knowing that they are so very fleeting an elusive.

Late spring of the North is magical at the best. It signifies the onset of the absolute best that nature here has to offer. Brilliance of platinum sunshine, turning into stunning sunsets and sunrises, that alternately set the sky on fire or submerge it into a silvery mist. The onset of extensive light evenings, the tender yet fervent bloom and the softness and the fresh scent of the air - it all holds an aura of endless enchantment.

Ultimately, spring brings about a collective atmosphere of happiness and joy, as nature awakens once gain. It reminds us of the continuum that is the circle of life - that one single constant in the chaotic existence of humanity.

Phoenix Rising.

2011-05-09T08:42:00.001+02:00

My adulthood has always been an endless cycle of ups and downs. As high as I fly, as deeply do I fall and I seem never to be able to enjoy a smooth, event-less flight. In no uncertain terms - I am the one who make my journeys progress this way and even though I at times long for something stable, everlasting and substantial, I am not quite sure whether I would find satisfaction in the calm waters I encounter while I sail the oceans of my life.

However, I often wonder if this might be due to one simple reason; I am yet to find a harbour that I would like to anchor in for extended period of time. I am still looking for that place of magic, of which existence I am certain, yet which my restless heart has not located. Therefore I find myself embarking on new adventures times and times again. I get lost in raging storms at sea constantly - still - as soon I find my bearings, my mind is already looking for that endless horizon, setting my sails to the wind.

Thus bouncing back and moving on has become something I am at this point highly proficient at – whether it is due to practice or just a simple resilience and a passion for life that I harbour within.

My personality thankfully makes these transitions somewhat smooth and almost effortless. Just like a true cancerian, when threatened and in danger, I withdraw into my shell, devoid of interference from others – but for what feels to many only an instant. Quickly emerging seemingly unharmed I posses the talent to rapidly move on. I do not linger too long with yesterday and I do not shut myself away from the world, sitting in darkness licking my wounds for months, questioning the cruelty of fate and life’s unfairness.
No, not me. Like the majestic phoenix, I rise from the ashes instantly and powerfully, as that is the only way I know how to recover.

Perhaps I bounce back so easily, as I never shun away from anything while I am in the process of living through my ordeals. I deal with every situation as it unfolds, right then and there. I follow my heart and my instincts and I always put myself in the line of the fire. I let myself be swept completely by my emotions, giving into them with a fiery passion, never holding back. I risk everything and I give my all, walking away from every battle - even the ones I lose - with a sense of victory.

Looking back at my past, I hold no regrets. It is my personal belief that the ultimate magic of living lies not in the success stories, but in the experiences born from events that went terribly wrong.
I am endlessly inspired by others, who just like me had to endure failures, over and over again, yet never lost their optimism, kindness nor integrity. Those who never became cynical or disillusioned and who despite their experiences refuse to live with caution and in fear.

As I move on for the millionth time, the pain of my recent losses is slowly turning into a plethora of bittersweet memories. No longer willing to offer my time or the energy of my thoughts to people that do not deserve them, I step out of my past, refusing to waste even a single moment of the magic that is my present.

Ultimately, I am ready to once again lay my gaze upon the endless horizon that is my future, as I set my sails anew, embarking on a pristine journey. At the present, I watch the brilliance of a fresh and enticing adventure, as it unfolds slowly in my view, beckoning me to give into it's allure with all my being.
And thus I set out, forever hopeful and eager to find that enchanted harbour of my dreams...

“One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it is worth watching."
Unknown

(Images: Photobucket)

Return To Light.

2011-05-05T07:11:00.000+02:00

As we enter the fifth month, we also return to the time of light. The fifth day in the fifth month is perpetually special in my perception, as it is signifies the commencement of the White Nights in Scandinavia.

If I ever would leave the cold North, the light of the summer nights is what I will miss the most. The magic of the endless sunsets never seizes to captivate me, reinforcing my belief in the importance of the sun and the enchantment of the seasonal changes.

Below is a selection of our recent evening skies, depicting the celestial shows that once again take place in my views, making me marvel over natural wonders - and helping me heal as I slowly return to light within as well...

Faith, Hope And Love.

2011-05-02T08:28:00.000+02:00

When I left the world of writing a few weeks back, it was to return to my life, in order to get accustomed to the new direction in which it was heading.

Since then, new events took place in it, reverting it on course once again. Thus I returned to the familiar old tracks, regressing onto the journey which defined my reality a few months ago, before my life took a drastic turn.
I am back, but I am not the same, nor will I ever be.

I have experienced a loss.
I lost someone I loved, that kind of love that transcends everything and leaves us breathless and makes time stand still.
It was a devastating loss, unlike any I recall, one that left a deep wound in my heart and which in its turn lead to an even greater loss all together. It lead to a demise that I was unprepared for, even though I always deep within knew it could occur. Or rather, I was unprepared for the immense sadness and devastation that surfaced within me, upon loosing something that was mine for such a very short time. And I was truly unprepared for all the other losses that followed in its wake.
The loss of self esteem, loss of self worth and a loss of happiness. I came very close to lose my faith, my belief in love and the worst loss of them all - I almost lost my hope.

I ended up contemplating life and death itself, while I struggled with the emptiness within me and the unfairness of my fate, the self doubt in my abilities and the endless dark abyss staring back at me late at night, when I felt so alone and abandoned, while my thoughts were running wild.

Nevertheless, I made it through this ordeal - as time in my eyes is too precious to waste away living in sorrow, even though the pain will linger around for a while. With the incredible help and support of a few great people that care about me deeply and due to my strong passion and appetite for life and my conviction that all happens for a reason, I found the old tracks again.

Despite everything, looking back, I have absolutely no regrets. I would not change a thing. I accept all that occurred and all that I went trough, as those are the cards I was dealt and I kept on playing.
When my pain subsided and my tears vanished to clear my view, I realized that all that mattered was that I walked away alive from this moment in time. Something within me did die, but in turn - something else was awakened and reshaped me as a human being.
For the better.

Our interactions, our actions and our decisions have at all times consequences. When we truly live and love passionately and without apprehension, we get a privilege to experience exhilarating happiness, yet risk to simultaneously encounter a deep, devastating pain as well.
Still, I rather have both, then protect myself from experiencing either.

Faith, Hope And Love - when everything else is gone, as long as we continue to carry these within, we have more than enough. Despite my ordeals, ultimately I am thankful that I never lost the most important thing of them all - I never lost myself.

(Images: Photobucket )

Prose Interlude.

2011-04-07T07:45:00.002+02:00

There comes a time when we simply need to return to our life and give it our undivided attention.

For me that time is now.

My writing here endlessly reflects my frank thoughts and my genuine state of mind, as that is the only way I know how to write.
Occasionally though, I realize that I can not continue doing that and concurrently hold back so much of the whole truth. However candid I might come across here, there are still parts of my reality that need to be kept private, until I am ready to share them publicly.

Rather than be torn between writing that is unsubstantial, superficial and forced and the strong urge to disclose it all, I have decided to take a writing interlude.
I am looking forward to focus completely on the changes that are taking place in my reality and when the time is right, I will return to this beautiful world of candid prose, abundant with my personal reflections.

See you soon dear friends.

(Images:Photobucket.com)

Wherever I Lay My Hat...

2011-04-04T08:16:00.001+02:00

Home.
A word that most certainly evokes strong emotions, powerful thoughts and unique images in everyone's perception.
We all carry an idea in our head of what home means to us, or what we would like it to mean.

For some of us, the word brings about a sense of familiarity, security and happiness. For others; melancholy, longing, emptiness and even perhaps a sense of loss or absence of something that once was and no longer is.
Or something that never was in the first place.

Already as a child, I moved around extensively with my restless parents. As an adult, I unintentionally adopted this lifestyle, relocating and crossing country borders - and even continents - pretty much each decade. Thus as a consequence, the term home has become endlessly elusive and almost unattainable in my perception. At times I feel as if the search for a home and particularly the idea of belonging somewhere - has become the ultimate quest in my adult life.

During my childhood, nevertheless, home was a secure and very much a defined place. It was without a doubt where my immediate family was; my parents and my sister. I belonged with these people in no uncertain terms and the geographical location of the place made no difference to me. The numerous moves, the constant, anxious new school starts, the continuous effort of making new friends - it all interfered very little with the happiness I felt. Even the ultimate move, which made my family into immigrants, only reinforced the bond we shared and home was still a very substantial definition in my mind.

But then along the way somewhere, as I moved out on my own and set out to conquer the world, the meaning of a home became increasingly obscure. At first it encompassed my parents home, later the city where they lived, then a country and finally even an entire continent. In time I began to experience a sense of almost an identity confusion and the yearning to belong started to manifest itself. Gently at first, a subtle longing somewhere deep inside, perhaps almost a secret wish. I recall the first wave of nostalgia, realizing that I might never be able to call any country my home, no matter however much I try. As the bonds that once tied me to the place of my birth were forever severed and no new were possible to attain.
This realization came however with an acceptance and perhaps a certain sense of relief as well, or a freedom if you will. "Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home..." became my motto and made it easy for me to settle down effortlessly almost anywhere.

As I however grew older and started to look for and appreciate a certain deeper values in life, being a foreigner came to define who I was and thus my search for home - for a true home - became my quest.
And I believe, in retrospect, this quest brought me on a journey and a passionate search for love. I realized that I was looking for someone who would bring that sense of home I once felt, back to my reality. A man, that would offer me a safe harbour and terminate my restless voyage, by accepting and loving my estranged heart unconditionally. A man that would make me feel like I undoubtedly belonged by his side, the same way I once belonged with my family.
Only today I am sadly realizing that such a man most likely does not exist and my search only led me to numerous misty illusions.

My life is currently in the state of a change and as my future is heading in a novel direction, I find myself reevaluating the term home once again.
I still do not believe that it is only defined by a geographical location, although I have come to the understanding that certain places do evoke in us a strong sense of serenity, security and familiarity - whether these are memories of transcending moments spent in certain locations in our past, or current ties to a special place.
To some degree home is also truly defined by people - those that offer us security and the gift of an unconditional love, trust and deep care. It could be our near family, a significant other, our children, or it could be our friends.
Still, my new realization makes me see that a true home is something we carry with us and is that which we harbour within us. It can not be taken away from us as well as it can not be given to us. Some will find it with little effort, some of us never will.

I feel a strong desire these days to revisit my roots. Places where I used to live as a child and the city where I was born. As well as an infinite longing to once again be in the company of the only people that ever truly defined the term home for me.
Perhaps at times one has to go back to be able to move forward. Occasionally our answers for the future might lie in what we left behind.
And perhaps it is never too late to go back home.

(About the photographs in this post: All are taken by my father last year, in and around the place where I was born. I have not been back in the beautiful Tatra Mountains for almost twenty five years...
Please click each image for a larger view.)

By The Sea.

2011-04-02T07:49:00.001+02:00

I love the sea.
I love its versatility. The many faces of the calm or rippled surface, as it reflects the moods of the given day, the change of seasons and the tides of times.
The North Sea is stunning at any time of the year and I will always stand in awe at its shores, which can come across so infinitely tranquil, as they were on my recent walk. Yet, they can also be wild and untamed in winter and fall.

Still, there is nothing so cleansing and revitalizing as the sound and feel of the sea water on a pristine spring day.

Sapphire And Gold.

2011-03-31T07:51:00.002+02:00

To me, no other spring flower is more beautiful than the colourful crocus. I have a very special connection to this vernal bloom.

It is without a doubt the first delicate living item that captured my attention, when I was a child. I recall running around on the meadows of Slovakia, when the first green grass was exposed after the snow of winter slowly melted away. As the brilliance of the first sun rays and the early birdsong defined the nature, the new green carpet was littered with these precious gems, in all colours, in all shapes and all sizes. It was the first wild flower which name I learned and which I knew how to recognize. And interestingly, the name is the same in Slovakian, Swedish, Danish and English.

Thus even today, the first blooming crocuses around my house hold my undivided attention. I almost hold my breath every year, as they start pushing relentlessly through the frozen ground already in January.
Finally, as we cross into spring and their beautiful crowns open when drenched in the first sunshine, I feel like the richest woman on earth, while my patio becomes adorned with sapphire and gold.

Places Of Tranquility.

2011-03-28T08:12:00.002+02:00

These days I find myself in search of places that have an aura of stillness and tranquility about them.

My home is of course at all times my refuge and my safe haven.

Nevertheless, as warmer and brighter days define this season, I venture more often outside to my secret hideaways, those that are playgrounds to my thinking and my contemplation and where I find solace and comfort, which my body and soul currently crave.

However melancholic and odd it may sound, I must confess that these escapes bring me most often to graveyards and cemeteries, as they did again this past weekend.
The most serene, sheltered and transcending moments in time, which I carry in my recollection, have been experienced in churchyards, old monasteries or memorials. I have never found these places uncomfortable or unpleasant. On the contrary; they are defined by an endless atmosphere of quietness that is infinitely soothing.
As a teenager I wrote an assay piece based on reflections over a walk in a cemetery; most likely the best assay I ever wrote as a young adult. Even today I recall how effortlessly my pen documented the train of thoughts, as I described my stroll around the graves.

Already when I enter these sacred places, it is as if a border has been crossed. Have you ever noticed when you step into a graveyard in a bustling metropolis, that it seems as if a soundproof gate is suddenly in place, shutting out the busy sounds and scents of a living city - as if by a stroke of magic one enters an uncanny stillness of a divine ground.
This happens to me time and time again and I feel almost always as if a veil of troubles is lifted from my face and I can see clearly.

I never feel that I am surrounded by death. On the contrary, I feel surrounded by lives lived. To some, this is after all only a gateway to another world. To others simply a tribute and a memorial to those we once held dear and yet again, to almost everyone, cemeteries offer a certain snapshots of moments in history, as the inscriptions on the grave stones, standing as silent sentinels of time, tells stories of the past.

My eyes are often drawn to the infinite amounts of flowers, bushes and intricately garnished spots - it is as if nature always thrives here. Even neglected churchyards are always beautiful in any seasons, as when nature is left to grow unrestricted, it flourishes, creating the most amazing pieces of living art.
I have been to carefully maintained graveyards; some simple, some intricate, as well as to forgotten small cemeteries, which were lush and overgrown with scented shrubs - finding equal solace in each.

Sitting down below the tree crowns, at any time of the year, while letting myself become infused with the surrounding stillness is incredibly relaxing. With such an ease the troubles of my every day life are removed from my perception as I am faced with the greatest secret of them all - the secret of life and death.
At all times this reinforces the belief in me of how precious and magical our time here truly is - and most of all how limited and short - and how very often we forget this. Instead, we get caught up in the turmoil of our busy days, while we waste our time and energy on petty and insignificant things, letting ourselves succumb to unnecessary irritations.

How endlessly ignorant and irrelevant some troublesome aspects of my life appear while I sit under those trees. The true magic of just simply being alive - with all its pain and suffering as well as joy and happiness - is nowhere as palpable and appreciated, as at the only place where life appears to be truly devoid...

About the images below: My favorite place of tranquility near my home is a private, but today abandoned family graveyard located on the grounds of an old mansion, today turned museum.
It is tucked away between trees, hidden from view and off the beaten path. Very few people know of its existence. The images below are taken on my walk there this past autumn and even though I was sitting there alone for almost an hour, I have never ever felt less lonely and more safe then on that early, sunny September morning.

Turning Off The Lights.

2011-03-26T07:43:00.003+01:00

This past week has proceeded in the spirit of the sun. As we crossed the vernal equinox a week ago, the return of the light is becoming ever so more obvious in my days and a cause for joy and celebration. Thus I am looking forward to take part in another kind of somewhat related global observance today.

One that is uniting the world and has grown over few years to connect us all - through a very simple act.

A turn of the switch, abolishing the lights for one hour - no more, no less. Such an effortless yet important contribution while the lighter evenings make this task not only enjoyable, but endlessly tranquil.

While I will watch the sun set in its true cardinal direction, enjoying this silent yet transcending show, upon its conclusion I will light a few candles and surrender to the brief connection that unifies me with nature and the rest of humanity in an almost absolute, one of a kind sense.

Happy Earth Hour everyone.

Sunset and Moonrise.

2011-03-24T08:11:00.001+01:00

The sun and the moon are two celestial objects that will forever entice and captivate me.

As we reach spring and travel through into summer, I am privileged to watch the most amazing sunrises and sunsets from my panorama windows - heavenly displays that have no equal and I simply lack words to adequately describe.
And the moon - that beuatiful disc under which glow I often fall asleep during the Scandinavian white nights - has an almost uncanny hold over me.

This year, the Vernal Equinox combined the sun and the moon in the most beautiful celestial show that I have ever witnessed.

While the first spring day closed towards its end, I stood in awe as a glowing, platinum sun moved across the blood red evening sky, ready to meet the jet black western horizon. It vanished from my view in a course of just five minutes - a magical and enthralling time frame.
Some hours later, just before bedtime, as I was closing my bedroom window, I was greeted by the cool silver shine of an almost Lunar Perigee. Only a day earlier it was officially full, however the moon appeared so very majestic and perfectly round against the dark blue night sky.

I did managed to capture the most stunning Equinox sunset to date - yet I still need a better camera zoom to eternalize the moon, the natural satellite of our Earth, by which my zodiac sign appears to be ruled.

Nevertheless, both events will remain imprinted in my perception forever.

Footprints In The Sand.

2011-03-21T08:03:00.002+01:00

"During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you..."

This Saturday I took a walk on a nearby beach.
It was a glorious spring day and I truly enjoyed the proximity to the vernal sea.
I find so much solace in the open waters, as I inhale the scent of the salty air and listen to the sound of the soft waves, while my eyes trace the misty sea surface where it meets the horizon.

As the sun caressed my face and I walked along the shore, at one point I turned back to see my own footsteps in the supple surf and got reminded of the infinitely enlightening prose about footprints in the sand. I am sure we all know it only too well.
I recall stumbling upon those inspirational words as a young girl and I wrote them down, to revisit them often in my life, when I felt lonely and troubled.

How much they thus resonate with me today, when I feel that I carry so much responsibility on my shoulders and I feel at times so alone and abandoned.
These days my thinking is preoccupied with contemplation that questions life itself. The whole meaning of it and my own existence here as well. My entire being is consumed by a spectra of contradictory emotions. Anything from awe, happiness and incredible joy to sadness, fear and anguish. Having made a decision, one that I do not doubt for a second, yet one that seems to effect so deeply and profoundly someone so very dear to me, is weighing heavy on my heart.

I find I am unable these days to concentrate my thoughts into one single meaningful post, as they are so scattered in so many directions. It is as if suddenly a door has been opened, one that I though was forever closed for me. And as I stepped through the opened doorway, I suddenly knew that my future took a new turn as a defining moment reshaped my life.

Looking upon my footsteps in the soft sand while I took that tranquil walk, I nevertheless came to a true revelation.

Even though I feel lonely, I am not alone.

The recent events have indeed showed me who my true friends are - and I realized that true friendship often comes from the most unexpected places. It also reinforced the importance of my family, that close knit unit, those incredible people who I have known my whole life and who have always been my shelter and my inspiration.

Ultimately, there is this enchanted force, the one that indeed carries me currently through the storm.
Maybe it is divine, maybe it is spiritual. Or yet again, perhaps it is my own inner strength - I truly do not know.
Still, when I looked upon those footsteps, I knew in no uncertain terms that I was no longer alone.
Nor would I ever be.

Stepping Into Spring.

2011-03-19T07:00:00.001+01:00

Tomorrows Vernal Equinox signifies the definite return of the sun, while our night and day become equal in length. However, it also signals a true beginning of a new season.
The arrival of Spring is now absolutely imminent.

Even though the threat of flurries still defines the chilly air, in the precious moments when the wind settles down and the sun envelopes us in its brilliant, vernal shine, there is no doubt that Winter is ending.
The Ice Lady is truly on retreat and she prepares to pass over her reign to the younger season - the most glorious, pristine, fresh and delightful season of them all.

As I grow older, I have grown to almost adore Spring. It is the time of so much promise. A time of beautiful awakenings, when nature springs to life so very publicly, with changes which are so definite and so very obvious. At the onset of this blooming period, the miracle of birth, growth and renewal defines our nature while it emerges from her long winter slumber.

Currently my surroundings reflect this shift of seasons in no uncertain terms. The first suggestive signs can be spotted here and there, stressing subtly, yet so very firmly that the point of no return has been reached.

Good Things.

2011-03-17T08:04:00.002+01:00

Once upon a time I knew an Irishman and trough him I grew very attached to everything Irish.
Even though our relationship fell apart, my infatuation with his beautiful country is still today left intact.

I still love a good whiskey, I am still mesmerized by Riverdance, Irish music and that incredibly stunning natural and rugged beauty of the country. And most of all - I still love a good pint of Guinness.

To honour today's St.Patrick's day and the memory of a good man, I decided to once again share with you my favorite Guinness commercial.

I too am a firm believer that indeed good things come to those who wait.

Destiny.

2011-03-14T08:02:00.001+01:00

~ Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper. ~

Albert Einstein

As a true fatalist, I have always believed in destiny.

In the fact that everything in our lives is to a certain degree predetermined and decided. Perhaps as early as on the day we see the light as newborn, the red thread directing our life’s main destinations has already been spun – if not even before…

Yet contradictory, I have also always been a firm believer in the idea that we all choose the path in which we sail the oceans of our reality, despite the fact that we will arrive at a predestined goal.

We simply are the ones who decide the journey.

As the journey itself can wary in so many ways, it eventually arbitrates the quality and the content of our lives.

The older I get, the more this belief structure rings true in my ears, as my own past experiences reinforce this so clearly.

We have an expression in my native language, which can be translated to the likes of “Forcing One’s Destiny”.

It has a negative ring to it and is used to illustrate the task of pursuing a hopeless goal. An endeavor that is not meant to be, as all the attempts are failing and all the signs are telling us that our efforts are futile.

In those instances it is difficult to know, when - or even if - one should give in and give up.

In certain areas of my life, I have often found myself doing just that, forcing my destiny. Simply pursuing something that was not meant to be. I have been lost on more detours and wrong turns than I care to account for. As a true fatalist, ultimately I always made my peace with the outcome and was thus never left with any regrets.
Then again, there has also been things that came easy to me. The flow of events proceeded effortlessly, each step a success, without too much struggle or obstacles to overcome. Sadly, those endeavors I paid very little attention to - as a human I am flawed and have a tendency to focus on what went wrong, rather then on what went right.

Today as I look back and recollect the travels through my life, I find it amusing to conclude that I could never ever escape my destiny. Everything that I went through, all the failures, sadness, heartache as well as the happiness and the success were leading me to today. All the memorable encounters and all those wonderful mistakes that made me into who I am, these as well shaped the path I traveled. Perhaps if I would have relaxed and gone with the flow, I might have experienced a plethora of adventures of a quiet different kind then those I carry in my recollection - still, I believe I would have found myself exactly here, at this very same spot as I do now.
This realization opens up a brand new avenue in my thinking, making me aware of how little control over my life I actually hold in my hands.

As middle age is knocking on my door and I once again find myself facing a change in my life, I nevertheless feel oddly at peace as I know that my destiny will guide me through. Having followed my heart and finding myself recurrently in a raging storm, I have decided this time to no longer pursue what is not meant to be, but to follow the signs and look for shelter.

As the restlessness of youth and the energy to go against the wind settles down a bit within my inner core, I am ready to completely surrender to my fate.
However this time I am fully determined to pay more attention to the doors that are open then frantically trying to open those that are locked, as I would love to sail more tranquil oceans on the journey that I have left in front of me.

Yet, in an odd and almost ominous way I sense somewhere deep within, that despite all of this, I am about to embark on the adventure of my life.

~ I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always end up where I need to be. ~

Douglas Adams

~ We are not here on earth to change our destiny, but to fulfill it. ~

Guy Finley

Vernal Trees.

2011-03-12T08:05:00.001+01:00

I love trees.
In any season, in any weather, any kind.
There is something majestic, impressive and almost comforting about this living architecture. Trees are never the same as they change through the seasons, yet they are always constant and always just simply there.

On numerous occasions I have found solace just by gazing at their luscious crowns, as they sway in the summer breeze. Often when everything around me crumbles, resolves or goes trough an unsettling transition, the presence of Birches just outside my windows or Chestnuts and Oaks lining my favorite trails seems to at all times put my mind at ease.

Last weekend, as the first glorious spring weather settled over southern Scandinavia I took a walk near my home, along my favorite natural path, where I often go to seek solitude and tranquility.
I was greeted by spring trees, in all their pristine austerity. Their bare branches, twisting and turning, like natural artwork rising above my head, the colour of earthy dark tones, appeared in such a strong contrast against the azure blue vernal sky, holding so much promise.

Seemingly dead and lifeless, I know that appearance can be so deceiving at times. So much life is preparing to push through, hidden and protected deep within the twigs, beneath the bark, away from the chill of the early spring air.

Glancing at the last traces of snow and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, as I stood in between the seasons, I suddenly knew in no uncertain terms that a change is on the way.

The First Spring Sunset.

2011-03-10T07:50:00.000+01:00

The sunsets are back.

March signifies the return of the sun - in no uncertain terms. The golden disc has once again returned to my westerly view, setting almost directly in this true cardinal direction.

Last weekend the skies were clear and my windows offered a view of the setting sun, for the first time this year. The event took slightly more than five minutes, although the skies remained light for almost an additional hour - thus the festival of the return of the light has once again begun.

The Written Word.

2011-03-07T08:19:00.004+01:00

Come to think of it, I have always enjoyed writing. According to my mother, already as a little girl, barely having learned to hold a pen in my hand, I wrote small stories. Mostly fiction I believe, products of my own imagination, although I recall vaguely being inspired by fairy tales read to me before bed time or recollections I overheard being told by others.

When I was about eight years old, I decided to write letters to all my relatives, pretty much everyone I could think off. I no longer remember the details, such as how I got hold of the addresses, but I know that without my parents knowledge, I send all the letters away. Without stamps. The idea of a paying a postage was not included in my perception when it came to letter writing. However, I knew very well that the orange box at the corner of the street, on my way to school, was intended for the envelopes that somehow would find their way to the recipient.

I can not recall the outcome of the whole incident that well, only that my parents were anything but pleased when they learned that most of our relatives would have to pay a postage fine, as I obviously failed to include the return address.
However, I recall the fate of one letter - the one send to my grandparents, which was delivered around the time when my parents, my sister and I came by for a visit. My grandfather read the letter out loud to my great dismay and embarrassment. Still, I could clearly see that the aggravation on my parents face became displaced by a expression of amusement and fascination. Thus I guess eventually, they did forgive me.

Growing older, I endlessly enjoyed writing assays in high school as a teenager. I recall the scent of the large auditorium, where hundreds of students were confined for hours, in order to produce written stories on a given subject. Even though I was always apprehensive about any kind of test, as soon as the stillness settled over the large assembly hall, I got completely lost in my own thoughts, while the words effortlessly filled the blank paper in front of me. Depicting my visions in letters came easy to me and my good grades reflected this.

Unfortunately, my last teacher in this subject developed a dislike for me and my style. She focused blindly on all the grammar errors, which defined my writing, then undertaken in a foreign language, but which did not detract from the contents, as I have been told by my previous teachers. Her scrutiny, which was borderline viscous, deterred me from enjoying to write all together - and I rather focused on channeling my imagination into painting instead.

When I begun to work in science as a young adult, I realized that as much as I loved the practical aspects of research, I also relished in compiling the data and I enjoyed writing scientific papers, something most other scientists detest. However it was not until I started to write my posts here that I rediscover my passion for expressing myself in this way.

There is so much power in the written word. We all know it way too well, as we have all experienced a plethora of emotions when we read a great book. We become educated and enlightened, we can travel in time and space, we are touched to tears or amused until we laugh. The words create images in our perception, make us contemplate and envision or simply just provide a playground to our imagination. Skillful writers have the potential to make a difference and the great literary works lining the bookshelves in famous or prestigious libraries bear witness to this fact.

To me writing has over the years become an outlet. Not just of the creative kind, the one I share with all of you here, where I can convey my impressions, thoughts and sentiments. There is also the therapeutic kind as well.

Almost any kind of pain or suffering can be channeled into words. Writing down what troubles me, in form of letters which will never become send, is an unusually effective relief. I guess, almost as a form of a diary, where private and personal thoughts are told to an unseen confidant in a written language, immortalizing ideas and feelings in a document seems to be not just a form of release, but also a way of organizing the train of dark thoughts. Once they leave my consciousness and become visualized on the screen in front of me, they feel less threatening and loose their hold on me.

As with any other kind of creativity, to write is to express ones innermost feelings and thoughts - by creating images using words and painting pictures with sentences. Whether shared with others or not, this creative outlet connects our imagination with our intellect, reflecting and documenting our life and eventually immortalizing us in the written lines.

Room With A View.

2011-03-05T08:20:00.002+01:00

My bedroom faces east and thus I can enjoy being awaken by subtle sunshine during the summer months, when the midnight sun rules our reality and the dawn occurs late at night.

Most of the views I share with you here are however taken from my large living-room panorama window, which faces west and from which I watch the most stunning sunsets. Occasionally I have shown sunrises, still these captures are rare.

It is also towards the east that another rare view can be enjoyed on clear late autumn and winter day. The view of the ocean.

Only visible when the birch trees lining the view are bare, it is nevertheless a sight that I find incredibly enticing. With my new camera I have been able to immortalize it in a new way, capturing the many faces of the bay lying beneath the hill. As much as the sea can be calm and azure blue one day, its mood can also be dark and menacing, turning to the colour of steel the very next, as seen on the images below, taken a couple of weeks ago, twenty four hours apart.

Flame Fascination.

2011-03-02T08:04:00.003+01:00

March is most likely the last month I get the pleasure to enjoy the flickering warmth of the fire on regular bases.
Soon, as the spring sun will grow stronger and when the winds settle down, my terrace will once again become my favorite spot to relax, retiring my fireplace for the season.

Fire has always held my fascination. Perhaps it is the connection I feel with the ancient man, when fire truly meant life. It offered so much to our predecessors in terms of safety, warmth and companionship.
The scientist in me is also endlessly intrigued by the consistency of the amber coloured flames, which resemble nothing else one can recognize. An airy magma, a fleeting, burning shape, that alters and changes within a microsecond, to disappear and reappear rapidly, a hypnotic show, that causes us to get lost in in time and space.

Everyone who has ever tried to photograph a fire knows it is not an easy task. To capture the dancing flames, as they jump back and forth is a true undertaking. But if one is persistent, once in a while the camera lens immortalizes an enchanting moment.
Brushstrokes of light, science and natural art combined in one.

Days Off-Line.

2011-02-28T07:49:00.002+01:00

As much as I love to update this site of mine regularly, at times I feel I want to withdraw from the on-line world. Blogging, as much as it is highly addictive is also highly time consuming. Thus occasionally I experience a need to return to my own life, as it plays out off-line and just live it without the need to document it here.

This happens to me a few times a year, currently coinciding with spring tiredness and the change of seasons. It certainly felt revitalizing to focus on other aspects of my life, areas which I have neglected for a while.

So what did I do in my week off blogging?
I got some work done at the lab (my boss would be happy), I caught up on some reading, I relaxed with some great company, ate some great food, I cleaned my house thoroughly - particularly the large windows as the return of the sun reveals so easily that the glass panes are dirty.
I removed the outdoor Christmas lights, which I usually keep through the winter and I enjoyed the last traces of the snow. It made me happy to realize that the early spring flowers that were about to bloom two weeks ago survived under the white cover and are still growing through the last traces of the wintry precipitation.

I contemplated life's big questions - well, the questions of my life mostly - listened to my favorite music and watched some great movies.
Still, the best visual shows were the ones that played out in front of my newly cleaned windows - the very early spring sunsets. As the sun is now moving higher and higher in the sky, slowly approaching its true cardinal direction for the spring equinox later this month, it will soon return completely into my view.

Eventually, my inspiration to write returned slowly and I missed writing and compiling all the photographs that I keep taking. This made me realize that as much as I have an off-line life, I also do have a very essential on-line life as well.
And in certain ways these two are now intertwined.
It's good to be back.

Be Right Back.

2011-02-22T08:31:00.003+01:00

I am taking a short blog break, but will be back in a week. Take care my friends.
Xoxo

Zuzana

Final Fury.

2011-02-19T10:00:00.006+01:00

Our brief encounter with spring has ended and we are once again under a pristine white cover.
Nature refuses to awaken just yet, thus hitting the snooze button it drifts back to sleep, while the arctic wind howls in my chimney and drives the snow into banks against the house.

Winters final fury is unleashed.
The Ice Lady shows off her power one last time, reinforcing the fact that her rule, although culminating, has not concluded just yet. She fights until her last breath, with ammunition of ice and snow, throwing us once more into deep freeze...

Charm Bracelet.

2011-02-16T08:46:00.008+01:00

My sister invited me recently to join an exclusive club. The charm club at Thomas Sabo. A club I am very honoured to belong to. A gift for my last birthday, she has added four appealing charms to my new charm bracelet and the collection will be only increasing by each year.

The charm bracelet is most likely my first encounter with jewelry. My mother used to wear one on her wrist and I recall how fascinated I was by the multitude of charms adoring the chain, playing with it as she cradled me in her arms, when I was a little girl. My sister, I recently realized, has exactly the same recollection, giving my new bracelet a special meaning as it bridges two generations and redefines the bond between sisters.

The wearing of charms is an ancient tradition and may have begun as a form of amulet to ward off evil spirits or bad luck. During the pre-historic period, jewelry charms would be made from shells, animal-bones and clay and there is evidence from Africa that shells where used for adornments around 75,000 years ago.
Thus wearing mine also connects me symbolically to all the prehistoric sisters of my past.

A Love Story.

2011-02-14T08:08:00.001+01:00

I have written about love before, numerous times. I posses a romantic mind, a passionate heart and a strong conviction that life without love isn't much of a life. Despite pain and disappointments, which often rule the world, the proof of love's infinite allure and true existence is nevertheless endlessly obvious.

Considering it is Valentine's Day today, I thought I would revisit this emotion once again and I do so with great pleasure and joy.

To love is to live and to be able to continue feeling love throughout life is a gift. Love takes many shapes and can be expressed in so many ways. It can be romantic or platonic, fleeting and everlasting, unrequited or unconditional, passionate or tender, flamboyant or covert - but it has one single constant - it defines us as human beings and makes life bearable. It inspires great artists, musicians, writers and poets and it comes across as the reason why we are here, as it connects us all.

The romantic love is often viewed as an illusion. The cynics will say it is a short lived infatuation, almost a clinical condition - an illness if you will. A possession that makes us blind, as we view reality through the eyes of temporary insanity. Perhaps that is the truth. But perhaps those who believe this never really had the courage to fall in love.

As I know it takes courage to fall the way that makes us look foolish and exposed, utterly vulnerable, while we risk being ridiculed and ultimately have our heart shattered into thousands of pieces. Nevertheless, to give fearlessly into those transcending feelings despite the knowledge that we might be forced to walk away empty handed and disappointed is the essence of true love - this is the only way I know how to love.

Thus the love stories of great sacrifices are the most romantic of them all in my eyes. The ones where great men and at times women would give up so much, as they simply could not see themselves face a life where the object of their desire was not present.

Such is the tale of King Edward of England and his love, Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee for whom the king gave up his throne. Some view this as the love story of the century, while many as a scandal that threatened to weaken the monarchy.

I fall into the first category, in no uncertain terms.

Edward became king in January 1936 and had many desires to become a modern monarch. He intended to marry Wallis Simpson, a woman he fell deeply and passionately in love with and who returned his love with the same token. However, he was informed by the prime minister that his subjects would deem the marriage morally unacceptable, largely because remarriage after divorce was opposed by the Church of England, and the people would not tolerate Wallis as Queen.

Thus after only barely a year on the throne, in December 1936, Edward, now reverted to the style of prince, made a broadcast to the nation and the Empire, explaining his decision to abdicate. He famously said,

"I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do, without the help and support of the woman I love."

Wallis and Edward married in a small ceremony on June 3, 1937. They remained shun by the royal family and forced into exile for the rest of their lives; nevertheless they remained loyally devoted to each other until the Duke's death in Paris in 1972. Wallis died 14 years later in 1986.
They are buried beside one another in the royal burial grounds of Windsor Castle.

A Brief Sense Of Spring.

2011-02-12T07:44:00.001+01:00

Today is bitterly cold.
I woke up to the first morning with subzero temperatures since mid January. Lady Winter is back from her intermission, which came across almost as an early departure.

Still, as we wait for February snow to cover our landscape white once more, the mild, albeit foggy and humid air which has been dominating our forecast for the last twenty days brought about a brief sense of spring. The stalks of the early flowers were seen relentlessly pushing upwards and at times the early bird song resonated a joy, the one that made me feel nature was a month ahead.

My front patio displayed only a few days back the first beauty of the resilient and yet so tender yellow crown of the Eranthis flower, just about to burst into bloom. I am sure this progress has now been abruptly interrupted and hate to contemplate what the plummeting temperatures will do to this lovely plant.

Last weekend however still truly felt like spring and thus I did the first gardening of the year, cutting back the dried up clematis, its climbing vines rigid and brown, seemingly so very lifeless. Upon closer look though, a multitude of buds were already in full sight, usually a sign prompting the annual early trimming of this late summer blooming beauty.

Winter is not over yet and Spring - although not that distant - is still far removed from our perception. However, the first season is slowly running out of time and we all know that good things comes to those who wait.
Thus lets wait just a little bit longer.