What's Another Year...

Returning from my extended absence, I find it somewhat difficult to adequately begin the very first post of this year.
I have drafted so many over the course of the Holidays, yet finding no opportunity to polish my writing into an acceptable format due to lack of time, it slowly became outdated and obsolete.
Additionally, I am experiencing an unexpected decline in my language skills. Despite the fact that I can express myself in five languages, English has until now been without a doubt the one I master the best - I can speak it fluently, write it with ease and I can use it to convey all aspects of life - both personal and professional.

I became proficient at speaking English during my years in the US and continued to excel in it while conversing on every day bases with the Irishman.
Today however he is long gone from my life and instead I find myself talking exclusively in Danish with my husband, my extended family and the kids. Slowly I begin lacking words and writing has become cumbersome, as a new vocabulary takes over my thinking.

It is odd, being in this linguistic no man's land, even though I have tried it numerous times before. Yet in my adult years I no longer posses the brilliance and speed of a young mind. Thus eventually, I can never fully master the novel tongue, while the old slowly begins to disappear into a vocabulary abeyance.
Being multilingual is a blessing and a curse.

Still, my love for writing is always there, simmering in the background. I thoroughly enjoy putting down my thoughts into words, documenting my life in the process, even though very little life altering wisdom can be perceived in my reflections these days.
Today I do more living than thinking.

Thus as the two faced God Janus once again seizes the reign over our world, I wonder what is in store for me as I set out onto a novel voyage through another set of pristine twelve months. Looking ahead, there is so much anticipation; a new home, perhaps a new job. The future seems undefined and adventurous.

Yet simultaneously, it comes across as unsettling.

By the time summer reaches its peak, I will once again see the love of my life temporary leaving me. Having tried it before, I know what to expect - many sleepless nights, torment, anguish and longing. Even though our forthcoming separation might be nothing like the last one, I brace myself for the hardship of yet another set of four months without him by my side, while I will try to find the courage deep within to be the woman he needs me to be, allowing him to fully concentrate on what he has been trained to do.
Having lived on my own more than half a life time I have no problems with solitude. In fact, I am very peculiar about the people I associate with and I rather be alone than in crowds.
With this said though, never before have I had such a desire to constantly crave the company of another human being, as I do my husband's. I covet his close proximity, his touch and caress. I miss him intensely even when we are apart for a day.  
"You're different with him. He moves, you move. Like magnets..." - an excerpt from a dialogue in the Twilight Saga series, no other set of words could more adequately describe my own romance.

Looking back, I conclude that so many years in my past have come and gone, melting together into this undefinable span of time, vanishing into oblivion. I like to believe that these were not wasted, but served a purpose in their own right, becoming an intermission in my life, when days progress in slow pace and when my being did strive to renew itself, while in pursuit of my dreams.
I carry a few such years in my suitcase and will without any doubt encounter these in my future.

Yet I also carry the memories of years that defined me, changing the course of my personal history, compelling me to set out onto epic journeys. These did not always end well, yet they were full of adventures and paramount progress. I feel that a lifespan that alternates the period of action with period of leisure and lethargy, is full and complete.

As I so perceptively perceived a couple of years ago, the period of the latest stagnation has passed and I have entered my personal golden age.
When - if - I once get the privilege to look back upon this part of my life, I will always remember it as one of the happiest. It will go down in my recollection as the most intense and vibrant.
I will always view it as the onset of my very own 'Age Of Aquarius'.

Fallen Angels.

Sitting in our kitchen, I watch the birth of a new day, knowing that the pink horizon will very soon burst into a glow of light.

We are way past mid-fall and nature is at its flamboyant best, the turning foliage shinning bright in the light of the first sun rays.
The ultimate showdown in colours is in my part of the world intense and fleeting. Yet every few years the display is simply more vibrant. This autumn thus falls into that category and currently my commute to work is undertaken through painted landscape. The views passing my windows outdo each other in brilliance and parade by in nuances of fire, copper and gold.

I am alone again, facing two weeks of solitude. My husband is in sunny California, refurbishing his skydiving skills as a part of his occupation.
His absence comes across as a doubled-edged sword.

On one hand it is a welcomed intermission from my novel life. That busy, messy, hectic, disorganized and unplanned yet so life-affirming and joyful existence that I have grown to love. Knowing this seclusion is only temporary, I find my alone time highly revitalizing.

With this said though, I dislike to be separated from my husband. I absolutely love to be in his presence and when he is not by my side, my world crumbles. Additionally, as much as his skills and his profession fascinate me and carry a great deal of appeal, attraction and pride in my eyes, they also give rise to a constant concern and worries, causing me to succumb to moments of distress and even occasional panic.
This is an area of my reality I still need to work plenty on, trying to learn to accept that which I can not change, facing the unknown with courage and being the strong woman my man deserves by his side.

Thus trying to pass the time - and actually enjoying to be having enough of it for once - I do what what makes me happy. I again find my solace in nature, photographing the flamboyant fall beauty that surrounds me, while I write down my thoughts and impressions fueled by my solitude. I finally also have the opportunity to compile the multitude of images that I have accumulated over the past months, spending hours cataloging these, creating photo books and calendars, the Christmas gifts that my family - near and extended - love to receive.

Among my many photographs are hundreds of macro images of fuchsias, captured recently in the garden of my father in law. These enchanting plants are his passion and pride, adoring his property in hanging baskets or in pots, creating oases of stunning beauty.

At extreme close up, the dazzling flowers of the plant resemble small, fragile dancing ballerinas, swaying in the air, flaunting their multicoloured, ravishing dresses. The texture of the blossom comes across as almost textile - soft velvet and silk.

While immortalizing these delicate creations of nature, I noticed that some of the blossom has fallen to the ground. Upon closer look, mesmerizing artwork unfolded in my view and my camera lens. The flowers fell randomly, yet their positions felt prearranged, as if an unseen artist walked there before me. Resembling fallen angels, sleeping among autumn leaves and moss, their colours only intensified against the earthy canvas, creating masterpieces of epic proportions.

Just like in life, the most enchanting beauty is hidden from view, only to be discovered if we look deeper, look closer, look from a different angle and look differently.

Musings Medley.

It has been more than a month since I last time updated this online diary and it is good to be back. I wanted to return much sooner, but my thinking was preoccupied with the pleasures of life rather than with forming coherent sentences worthwhile writing down.

I am still finding it difficult to do so.
The longing to sit down and submerge myself in self reflective prose is there, but my happy and content reality offers no philosophical contemplations. Embracing this I can always turn my writing into a medley of more creative and descriptive kind, the one that indulges and enjoys - as after all, I want my diary to reflect the true state of my life.

Thus September came and went, as I savored the bliss of sweet reunion with the only man that has ever made me feel complete. Falling into his embrace a few weeks back was the most single exhilarating experience I ever recall. Getting reacquainted with my husband took no time at all - to once again have the privilege and pleasure of each others company is heaven personified for both of us.

Not that we do not have our disagreements and small tiffs.
As two very different individuals with strong convictions we do face conflicts at times, yet our passion for life and for each other and our undying optimism prevents us from arguing for more than minutes at the time. Usually I am the one who flies of her hinges, while my husband is steady and firm as a rock, bringing me back to reality, making me smile and feeling silly, forgetting instantaneously what was it that upset me in the first place.
This is a novel concept for me - in my former relationships, conflicts usually escalated until they were the only constant in my days. It has made me realize that relationship that survive the tides of time and remain loving and harmonious are not the ones that lack conflicts and disagreements, but the ones who posses the skill and talents to overcome them, while turning these into moments of learning and growth.

While I directed my attention to life, reunion, short travels and family, nature continued its yearly cycle unnoticed and fall arrived silently, yet definitely. October is an ornate month and a month of incredible changes and contrasts. It goes from green to fiery red and golden, from sunshine to twilight, from mild to cold, from autumn to the early onset of winter. It always comes across as time span that stands between seasons and it can bring our way the heat of Indian summer at its onset or the first frost and maybe even flurries as it concludes.

I write this bundled up in blankets, in the shine of subtle candle light, while the twilight envelops the world outside. It is bewildering that only a month ago the sun was still hours short of setting and the warm evenings ruled our reality.
As we reach mid-fall, the damp air and the darkness make me long for the warmth and comfort of a crackling fire and in fleeting moments my mind returns to my old white house and its wonderful fireplace.
My life there has by now become my past.

It is amusing to ponder when exactly does something that comes across so real and tangible enter the past tense. Is it after weeks or months, or is it years... Most likely this is decided by the contents of these experiences and the extend with which they affect our reality - and the extend in which we move forward.

Having watched four seasons pass outside our windows, my present is today ruled by a welcomed sense of familiarity and routines, by love and comfort. Yet it is also messy, unpredictable, vibrant and in motion.
My life is at last the adventure I always longed it to be and I enjoy being busy living it.

"Once In A Blue Moon".

Once in a blue moon - that is what we tend to say, when something occurs very rarely.
And indeed, this morning when I opened my eyes, I revisited an old childhood feeling. I woke up full of excitement, anticipation and longing, just like I used to feel when it was Christmas Eve. Generally long gone from my perception, these emotions grace me only occasionally with their presence.

The last time I felt this way was on my wedding day.

Today is indeed the day - or night - of the blue moon, when the second full moon of this eighth month will grace the night heavens. The celestial lantern has been shining like a large silver globe outside our windows for the past few evenings, expanding in my view, reminding me of the significance that today holds in my perception.

Today the man to whom I have given my heart will return into my embrace.
Today, my husband comes home.

I have married a man whose life is defined by honour and whose traits are defined by chivalry and courage. In my eyes he is a perfect man, a knight of modern times, the likes of whom truly do only come by once in a blue moon. He offers me something unique - pure and unconditional kind of love, the kind which transcends time and space. Yet additionally he also grants me a life that will be forever changing, like an endless adventure. Despite the anguish and fear that my reality will always contain, it will never grow mundane or predictable, but remain fiercely passionate and enthralling.

Recently I was siting in our garden - it was a warm August evening. One of those very rare ones, when the wind was non existent, the sky clear and the late summer sun was setting in my view. It created a déjàvu in my perception, as I was brought a year back, writing a transition post in this same spot, consumed by a sense of content, warmth and feeling at home.
Finding myself experiencing identical - if not even more enhanced - emotions today, I know that I am exactly where I am suppose to be...

Dear friends, thank you for sharing the wait of these past four months with me - I made it to a large extend thanks to all of you and your encouraging and comforting words and your genuine interest in my writing -  my prose serves at all times as an creative outlet and an emotional release and I enjoy documenting my life in this online diary. 

See you all very soon, I shall return.♥

The Sunday of Summer.

August Bloom In Our Garden

August is much like a Sunday. It is still weekend, but the threat of Monday is imminent. In the case of August; it is still summer, yet autumn is approaching fast.

The second season this year was a total disappointment weather wise, going down as one of the coldest and rainiest in history. Luckily, its ultimate month did granted us a few warm days, even if they came a little too late. That unmistakable finale hangs now in the air, while the sun lies ever so low above the horizon and its shine grows golden. The atmosphere resonates with maturity, as crops grow heavy and all the fruit and berries ripen, getting ready for the harvest at the onset of fall.

Although I am saddened by the fact that my favorite time of the year is concluding, the seasonal changes are nevertheless reassuring and simultaneously alluring. The natural circle mimics the events in our own life, where the good and the bad alternates, creating a vital balance.
The older I get, the more I begin to realize that everything, whether it is positive or negative, has its purpose to play. So many times in my past have I seen my dreams crushed and that which I have hoped for pass me by, yet in hindsight I know that the doors that eventually opened led me to better places.

Heart Formed By Our Candle

This is how I met my husband - after a period of tragedy, disappointment and personal loss, feeling discarded and abandoned, I painfully watched as a door slowly closed forever on an ineradicable dream. Yet as I picked myself up, gathering the last of my strength, ready to continue living again, refusing to give into despair and resignation, for once I decided to walk through the gate that was opened  -  and there he stood, the man of my dreams. The one I have been waiting and feverishly searching for my whole life, offering me hope, love and new dreams. I will forever be left wondering how this came to be and only a belief in the spiritual and divine offers any explanation.
Very soon I will once again gaze into those steel blue eyes of his, deep and enticing like the North Sea, holding so much love and affection, as I once again fall into his embrace - the only place I feel completely safe and sheltered.

Until then, I see those same eyes in his children, while they laugh and rummage through the house, having kept me company this week. Thus my own, however deeply embedded parental instincts are brought to life. I am glad to notice how relaxed they are now around me, as compared to the initial few encounters - they behave currently very much the same as when their father is here with us. A time span of a year is certainly much longer in a child's perception - at this point my presence in their reality is something constant and comforting.

My Pasta Salad

I am therefore becoming more sensitive and experienced in areas I have not needed to before. Being thrown into parenthood, never having to raise my own children, I am excelling in other parts of life, such as improving my culinary skills. Considering myself at all times a disaster in the kitchen, I have come to the conclusion that this might not necessarily be the case. I just need some practice and perhaps one day I might even enjoy cooking - and be really good at it.

So much change has taken place in the past year and a half. As I briefly return to read my old posts, I can feel that I have changed too. All the challenges, alterations and new encounters of the past sixteen months have created a novel me.

Whether I am better or worse than before is impossible for me to asses, all I know with certainty is that I am the happiest I have ever been. Every change takes something from us as well as it gives.
The best life however is the one which is a work in progress, an unfinished painting, a diamond in the rough. A blank page to be yet filled with sentences describing new adventures and life altering reflections.

One Hundred Days.

Since my husband left our home - and me - in the beginning of May, to temporary serve another country for four months, I have carried out a small, yet vital ritual every evening.
Just before I turn in for the night - I cross off each passing day in our calender and say a little prayer for his safety.
It has been an incredibly rewarding process, watching each week pass and the blank page of each month becoming saturated by red marks - signifying my personal countdown.
Thus this Thursday marked the hundred day since we parted.

One hundred days alone, one hundred days without his kisses, his touch and his presence, one hundred days of readjustment, longing and worries. Yet hundred days full of personal growth and new learning experiences, making me realize over and over again how much I cherish my life and its versatility and simultaneously making me so aware of the precious, deep, passionate and foremost pure love that we share between us.

One hundred.
A number that can feel infinitely large and yet infinitely small. One hundred seconds are barely two minutes of our lives - nothing but a fleeting instant and we can grasp and comprehend it. One hundred years can define our own life time - if we are lucky - and we can still understand this duration. Yet take one hundred decades, which comprise a millennium, a time span infinitely more difficult for us to imagine and which can see entire civilizations come and go.

Thus, to celebrate my one hundred milestone, here are some random fun and interesting facts about this symbolic number.

· In Latin, 100 is centum and the Roman numeral for this number is C.
· 100 is the basis of percentages (per cent meaning "per hundred" in Latin), with 100% being a full amount.
· 100 is the sum of the first nine prime numbers, as well as the sum of four pairs of prime numbers (47 + 53, 17 + 83, 3 + 97, 41 + 59).
· On the Celsius scale, 100 degrees is the boiling temperature of pure water at sea level.
· The United States Senate has 100 Senators.
· "The First Hundred Days" is an arbitrary benchmark of a President of the United States' performance at the beginning of his or her term.
· Most of the world's currencies are divided into 100 subunits; for example, one euro is one hundred cents and one pound sterling is one hundred pence.
· The number of years in a century is 100.
· The Hundred Years' War (1337-1453) between France and England lasted 116 years.
· The largest bank note in England is the one hundred million pound note, nicknamed Titan.
· A centurion was an officer in the army of ancient Rome, commanding 100 men (centuria = 100 in Latin), although in reality he only commanded 60-80 men.
· In the Christian literature, the number 100 appears as symbol of the celestial beatitude.
· The second reigns of Napoleon lasted 100 days, from March 20 to June 22, 1815. It ended by the defeat of Waterloo.
· In the year 100, the wheelbarrow makes its first appearance in China and bricks become the primary building material in the Roman Empire.
· 100km is the altitude at which the FAI defines that spaceflight begins.
· Yesterday it was 100 days since I last kissed my husband.♥♥♥

"Fortuna Caeca Est".

Fortune Is Blind

The above sentence is carved onto a stone wall in old Roman style letters above a tunnel high in the Austrian Alps. It was suddenly in my view, as my family traveled south one summer when I was a teenager and I glanced at it at the very moment the car entered the tunnel. The sentence immediately peeked my curiosity, thus I scribbled down the words on a piece of paper, to later enter them in my journal. The one where I wrote interesting quotes and book excerpts, in order not to forget them.
It was first many years later that I learned the meaning of the Latin words:  

Fortune Is Blind.

Luck is a funny thing and already the ancient philosophers shared many ideas on how it impacts our lives. I know that I myself have had my share of both the good and the bad, but whether that was a product of luck I am not certain.

My Lucky Charm

When I felt the least fortunate, I recall feeling very lonely in my pain and predicament. I believe loneliness must be one of the most difficult ordeals in the life of humans. In my perception, it comes as a close second to the most devastating predicament one can be subjected to - ailing health, ours or someone we love.
I rather be poor than lonely. I rather be unsuccessful and miserable in any other way imaginable, as long as I am not alone. The idea of prolonged loneliness that I was facing once in my past used to haunt me even though I would choose solitude every time, rather than the company of someone I did not care for.

One of the most appealing aspect of life is that it can surprise us at at any moment, as the dices of our destiny are thrown. In just one year did I not only meet the love of my life, but I also gained the love of his adorable children and his extended family. As if by a stroke of incredible luck I was suddenly granted an honest affection from extraordinary people, dispersing the fears that once used to envelop me.

My Charm Bracelet

Meeting my extended family for the very first time reinforced in me the idea of reincarnation and having lived before. It felt like coming home - in the most literal way possible, like I never felt before. Even though at first glance I am easy going, open and tolerant, there are very few people that I genuinely feel comfortable with. Yet, when I am with my husband and his family, it feels as if I am exactly where I am suppose to be - in fact it feels like it has always been this way, for much longer then a year.
Sadly, I will never get to know the woman that bore the man I love, as she is long gone, but I am fortunate enough to have spend many wonderful moments in the company of my father in law.
The father of my husband is a special man and I can clearly see where my soul-mate gets his manners and admirable traits. He is humble and yet jovial with a life enforcing conduct and an aura of incredible familiarity.

Recently, my father in law send me a lovely birthday card, a greeting filled with words that I will never forget. Yet most of all, it will remain forever in my recollection for the gift that followed the card.
He send me a lucky clover.
A simple, yet rare plant, which he collected on one of his recent morning walks. It was pressed and meticulously taped onto the side of the card, accompanying his inner hopes for my good luck... A priceless and most memorable gift I have received to date.

My Lucky Clover

I have waited a long time and had to endure rough times before I found my share of good luck that has been infusing my life for the past year. At times I wonder what exactly have I done to deserve such good fortune as I know from experiences that nothing good last for ever and bad things happen to good people.

Ultimately though I have always believed that we are the creators of our own luck. It does not come from amulets and charms, but from our beliefs and our conduct, our hopes, our love and our longing. It is the state of our mind and the way we view life.
Good fortune is a product of hard work and endless perseverance and will smile at us as long we believe in it's charm, but never rely on its presence.

Year One.

The first anniversary of my move north came and went, without much notice on my part. Last week however, some reoccurring, yearly sport event made me realize that by mid July I have indeed spend one year in my new home.

I can safely conclude that these have been the best twelve months of my life. At times I view my life as a combinations of assorted segments. Personal eras that start and end with defying events. Taken together they make me feel like I have already lived several lifetimes combined into one. Last year yet again another new era started and I am endlessly excited about the novel prospects that await in my future.

Most of all I am looking forward to move to a new house, a house that I will hopefully one day soon purchase together with my husband. The period of looking, searching and planning is endlessly exciting. My old white house has been taken off the market and I am becoming a landlord, renting it out until it can be sold at a good price in the future. Today it is a buyers marked and the sellers have to comply, thus I guess we better take advantage of this fact and become buyers instead.

Time is definitely occupying my thinking as of lately. Yet, the avenues have shifted slightly and I have found myself contemplating the subject of death.
I have never contemplated it to any deeper extend before. Of course, just like everyone else, I too am scared of dying, but the fear that recently enveloped me is not the fear of death and the pain of the event itself, more the fear of the finality that it brings.

I dread the end of my consciousness.
The end of experiences, excitement and adventures, of new possibilities and unforgettable moments. I love to be alive - despite the pain and suffering, there is also so much beauty and magic at every turn, so much new to be discovered every day. The termination of all this a horrid and appalling idea. At least, unless one is a believer, death definitely brings an end to life as we know it. I truly feel these have been some of the most haunting thoughts I have ever had. Perhaps they are born out of the surprising and overwhelming happiness that defines my life currently, forcing me to see the other end of the scale. Taking a peak into an abyss that I know awaits, one day. As always, we fear the unknown - and death is by far the most certainly occurring unknown there is.

It feels as if our summer has not really begun - due to the absolutely unseasonable weather we have had. Yet small signs here and there tell me undoubtedly that my favourite season has passed its peak.
I just noticed that our rowan is already displaying half ripen berries. Plants, bushes and trees are now big and lush, having attained that deep dark green, signifying that their growth is slowing down and ceasing.

Yet for the first time ever this does not bring sadness into my perception. On the contrary, slowly a joy starts to gain hold, an anticipation and excitement, similar to the one I used to experience as a little girl when Christmas was approaching. Soon a true countdown will begin, as I await the return of the man I love.
With about five weeks left of our separation, I have finally allowed myself to slowly visualize his homecoming in my mind. Thus at last I can glimpse the light at the end of the dark tunnel and the approaching fall season has never looked more appealing and never been more anticipated in my eyes than this year.

June Reflections.

June is my favorite month of the year, without a doubt, closely followed by July and May. I am a summer child and those of you who have been following my writing for years know that I and Mr. Summer are involved in a candid, but everlasting love affair.
I love June mostly for its light. Living almost as north as one can in Denmark, I carry out currently almost a daily ritual of stepping outside close to midnight, to feast my eyes on the illuminated night sky.

Climate wise, June and overall the third season in Scandinavia can be defined as a warmer spring, or April times three. Summer often rains away and it feels as if it ends before it even begun, while we still patiently wait for it to start. The days when the temperatures sneak above 20C can often be counted on the fingers of one hand. However, once in a blue moon we do also have exceptional summers that defy the rule and every year we hope that this will be the one.

As I sat bundled up in our garden a week back, enduring strong winds and clouds, risking to catch pneumonia, the occasional sun peaking through and it's warming rays hitting my face felt though like a vital therapy. The air was incredibly fresh. Inhaling it deeply I felt it purified my entire being. It's consistency so clear, so icy cold yet so clean and so saturated by the scent of the North Sea. I was suddenly - and momentarily - in awe of the weather conditions in the land I call home. I found inspiration in the rugged beauty, unpredictability and a life force of this climate, the one that fuels growth, lushness and bloom.

Sensing the weather elements with all my being, my eyes were drawn to an ivory clematis, planted by the previous tenants of the house. My husband is a perfect man in many ways, but he is definitely no gardener and the plant has been neglected for years. This spring the vine received the proper care and thus it grows with uncanny speed, stretching its tentacle like leafstalks ever so higher up the wooden terrace pole. I watched them swaying in the gale force winds and simultaneously could not help but notice that some grabbed onto the wooden pole in an almost human like way. The growing stalks of clematis are extremely delicate - pull slightly and they will break. Yet they can cling onto a surface in the most dexterous and proficient way, appearing tough and rugged, almost like there is mastermind, an intelligent thinking behind this action. It made me contemplate plants as lifeforms and whether they perhaps are much more complex than is assumed.

I have noticed that I mention my husband in almost every post and I assure you that is unintentional. I guess he is always on my mind and that will ultimately show in my writing. Sometimes it dawns on me, that I am indeed married. We got married only a week before he left and thus the event first now settles into my perception as reality - yet the sheer excitement of the fact still sends shivers down my spine.
I love being married.
I miss him terribly, at times every cell in my being longs to hold him... There are moments when I think that I simply can not go on one more second without feeling his touch and I fall into a temporary depression. But then a new day dawns and I get up from the ground, brush myself off and get on with life. I am thankful for this experience, no matter how hard it is at times, as it is reshaping me as a human being, building my character, my stamina and my resilience.

I am glad though that I can sense him everywhere in the house. His things, his clothes, his smiling face in the pictures of us - it all makes me feel as if he is about to return at any moment. And yet, now that a month has passed since his departure, the house is changing. I find this very interesting and utterly fascinating. The children are not here with me either, only the occasional visit here and there, thus this house bears more and more an imprint of me. Most of all its scent. Have you ever noticed how every home has its unique scent. I guess it is a scent that defines its occupants and is initiated by the life that flourishes within its walls. Our house has lost the scent I recall, when I visited it for the first time. It has a scent that is no longer a foreign one to me, but a very familiar and comfortable one. The one of my home.

I saw the film An Education the other day. It was a sweet movie, not making the big impression on me that I have hoped, yet I was entertained. Nevertheless, there was a scene that will stay with me for a long time. The female heroine - Jenny - contemplates;   

"Action is character", our English teacher says. I think it means that if we never did anything, we wouldn't be anybody. 

I think this is my life philosophy summarized in the most eloquent way.
Indeed, our actions are the essence of our life. We might not always do the right thing, but remaining standing still in a safe place makes us into nobody.

In my life I  have surely taken the wrong turns more times that I care to admit. Still, it never deterred me from taking action. Considering all the places I have been to and all the unforgettable experiences and encounters I have created along the way, I can safely conclude that perhaps I will never be anybody special - yet I will never be a nobody.

I am Titanium.

I love to write my reflection's posts in the early mornings or late in the evenings, when there is that certain stillness in a day. Currently, the white nights offer a late evening tranquility, which is saturated by tangelo skies and the absence of darkness, prolonging our days considerably.
Additionally, the weather gods have granted us our first summer week of the year, bestowing upon us uncanny hot days and warm nights. These enable me to sit out here, on our terrace, in the silver twilight, listening to the soft sound of crickets and watching the illuminated, albeit obstructed horizon in my view. The air is saturated by the perfumed scent of blooming lilac and moist with dew.

In a few days, May will end.  I have mixed feelings about the conclusion of this last spring month. In my eyes it is one of the best months of the year, as it is so defined by life and growth, by vibrant colours and by light. It carries so much optimism and a promise of the best to come and usually I relish in its beauty, wanting it to last forever.
This year however May was a month I dreaded. The sorrow of farewells at its onset made me wish it would never come and when it finally did, that it would pass quickly. I truly disliked the prospect of its thirty one days.
Yet here we are, barely a week away from what I once feared would take an eternity to reach. In hindsight I realize that it has passed faster than I expected. I have settled into new routines and have accepted my new reality. It is not always easy and some days are better than others. I do still go through sleepless nights full of worries about the safety of the man I love, when I have no one to turn to for comfort, but my self, despite the support of so many wonderful people in my life. Yet I also do have days when I feel strong and capable, feeling time works in my favour, knowing that the end of my ordeal will come. And beyond that end is a beginning to the best part of my life.

Apart from hearing the voice and seeing the face of my handsome husband that I love endlessly, three elements are currently responsible for making my days flow with ease; sunshine, warmth and nature. I have started small garden projects and once again the therapy of gardening becomes so very obvious in my recollection. There is something very reassuring and revitalizing in planting something and watching it grow.

Observing our wild garden through out the winter, I secretly spun plans on which flowers would best suit its large proximity. I realized that what I missed most from my previous residence was the variety of vines, blooming and scented or evergreens. Particularly that stunning clematis, which grew against the fence of my terrace at the white house. Those cobalt blue flowers that in July - August covered the south wall like a veil of blue. Inspired by its beauty, I planted a baby clematis of the same kind against our terrace and I love to look at its growing progress. It is subtle, but it is there. It will take a few years before its beauty will match the one I recall, and we might not even live here by then, but that is something I refuse to worry about.
I have also become slowly acquainted with our lawnmower - we are getting along better by each week. Mowing the lawn is something I dread and love simultaneously. This love/hate relationship has many origins. I love the physical challenges of the mowing itself and the scent of fresh cut grass is one of the best natural perfumes I know. Yet I dislike with all my beings the disposal of the cut grass. It accounts for many heavy sacks and many drives to a nearby recycling station in my husbands large car, which I feel not comfortable to drive in nor to navigate through the narrow lanes of the station. Nevertheless, I view this as a challenge that makes me grow and as weeks pass by I know it will get easier - until one day it is just another chore that needs to be done.

Yet, my driving skills have certainly improved over the last year, as I slowly and surely accumulate thousands of miles behind the wheel, due to my very long daily commute. As some of you might recall, my old "green lighting" and I parted our ways this winter and in its place the "BlueMotion" has entered. It is actually a term for the technology which fuels and powers this beautiful anthracite coloured car of mine, making it fuel efficient and environmentally friendly. I LOVE that car. It is my best friend and my sentinel, as it takes me safely everywhere. At times it feels as if it can truly fly. Just a touch at the gas pedal and it takes off so effortlessly through the landscape, like a silver bullet, leaving everyone behind. It is a feeling unlike any other and has redefined the way I feel about driving.

Its colour reminds me of titanium. As of lately, I have become fascinated by this metal. It comes across as the color of coal mixed with silver. By definition, it is very light and soft,  yet very, very strong.
We chose to have our wedding rings made of this metal. Every day I look at that band on my finger and I relish in its simple beauty, while the chorus of one of my favorite dance songs resonates in my mind;  
"I Am Titanium".
I love the symbolism behind ideal of a love that is gentle and soft yet tensile strong - or of human trait of the same kind. The one that bends in the strong winds, yet withstands the fury of its gusts, remaining intact through the storms of life.

I am Titanium... or at least I long to be.

Twelve Down, One Hundred And Fifteen To Go...

It is morning and I sit at our kitchen table. The house is uncomfortably quiet.

Looking at the wall calender on my left I see twelve red crosses drawn over the past twelve days. Twelve odd days have passed since I parted with the love of my life. He is currently thousands of miles away, in a distant, foreign country that I will never visit, making sure its inhabitants can face a better future.

These past twelve days can be summarized as a period of arduous re-adjustment. They have been at times extremely difficult and most of all very, very long. I am slowly forced to accept the fact that I am once again - against my will - alone and I try relentlessly to find some positive aspect of my new reality.

I have good days and I have bad days.

When it is as worst, it feels as if I can not stand this predicament a minute longer and I keep wondering why my fate is once again putting me through such an ordeal.
The first day was by far the most difficult one. After having said good by to my love, watching him disappear from my view, my world suddenly fell apart. I felt alone and abandoned, consumed by anguish, fear and deep sadness.
Even now, the notion of the prolong separation renders me at times emotionally unstable, leaving me with a sense of despair. I can not conquer the emptiness within, nor the state of panic that keeps rising, trying to overcome me.

Yet, as time moves forward, I also have days when all of this seems less dramatic - and they increase in numbers. These days are my beacons of light, illuminating the path in a long dark tunnel through which I am traveling. Brought on by a small simple pleasure or the beauty of natural wonders as they momentarily pass my views and consciousness.
And eventually by my positive thinking, which always disperses the train of unsettling thoughts. But most of all by the reassurance from the man that I love, in form of an endearing word or a kind voice, reminding me that he is still there and he still cares. More than I will ever know. And that he is safe.


Twelve down, one hundred and fifteen to go.
To endure so many more days without seeing his face or feeling his touch comes across as unthinkable.
However, when my sanity returns in those glimpses of light, I realize that I have to allow myself to mourn and to embrace the sadness, the longing and the deep pain, understanding these as something vital and good. It is a proof of deep affection and an intimate connection between two people in love.
Thus, as days move forward, I will slowly regain my bearings and turn this time into something beneficial and prosperous. Already I find gentle consolation in the notion that the countdown has at last begun. Only twelve down, yet twelve less that two weeks back. Time can be our friend and our enemy, yet it is constant and it moves forward bringing an end to everything, whether it is good or bad.

I am a firm believer in the notion that everything happens for a reason. The difficult and trying periods in our life truly have their purpose. They are a time of growth and learning and they bring us forward, saving us from stagnation. Eventually these create a healthy balance in our life, enriching us with beneficial experiences. Human psyche is very strong and we can get used to almost anything - we can always handle more than we think.

Thus even though the temporary separation from my husband is difficult and unbearable, it reinforces our devotion for each other and it makes the days we indeed get to spend together more precious and magical. My heart is saturated with so much love and I hope this love will prevent sadness and fear in gaining hold.

"This too shall pass."
The old saying holds so much significance in my eyes today. And I know in no uncertain terms that if I only endure this trying time, the best is still yet to come.

(Images: photobucket, with exception of the last and first image)

"Amor Vincit Omnia".

I return to my online diary after almost two months absence, in the height of spring, at the onset of white nights and a period of growth and renewal.

A diary is a like a time capsule. It captures events, preserves our thoughts and impressions of a given moment, enabling us to relive our history and revisit our past by reading the written lines. As I scroll through my old posts, the changes my reality underwent over the years make me smile. That is the infinite magic of life - we never know what waits around the next bend.

The two rings I wear today are attestation to two defining moments of such changes in my very recent past.
As long as I live I will recall every single detail of the occasions when these two rings were given to me. My memory is saturated by vivid snapshots of these two extraordinary moments in time. Only ten days apart, they account for the two most important events of my life.

The ring worn on my one hand is my engagement ring.
Beautiful silver ring covered by red garnets. This was the ring with which I was asked to marry the love of my life. In front of our families, on a sunny day this April, the proposal was exactly as the incurable romantic within me always imagined - indeed even better. It took place in the beautiful gardens below the Prague castle, saturated by the first spring bloom. High above the historic city, the man that only a year prior stole my heart went down on one knee underneath the pink blossom of a cherry tree, asking for my hand in marriage.

My engagement lasted barely two weeks.
Exactly ten days later, on the first of this May, I said my second yes in the city hall in our home, receiving a beautiful titanium band that now adorns the ring finger of my other hand. I look at it constantly, as it makes me recall our wedding day, which was shared by the two of us only. I loved the simplicity of this precious, deeply intimate moment in time, which eternelized our love.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had visions and dreams of what my wedding day would be like. I think most little girls - and most single women - do. As I grew into a young woman, those dreams started to slowly fade. Not because I did not wanted to get married, but because I started to worry that the man I was searching for did not exist. As years went by and my relationships fell apart one by one, I gave up on my romantic dreams of getting married. I felt like a stupid old fool, still thinking in a young girls terms.

Still, our reality can change in a blink of an eye and as one of the most trying periods of my life was slowly concluding last year, the one that made me doubt happiness and life itself and I wondered secretly whether I was ever going to be smiling again, my fate turned around.
On a warm April day I took a stroll down by the sea with a handsome man - and my life was never going to be the same again.
He came out of nowhere and I knew he was the one. From the very start everything about him was so very different than anything else that I recognized and could relate to. And everything about him was exactly right. He made me believe again.

Thus that which I gave up on a long time ago came to pass. Several decades later than I ever imagined, the event itself though surpassed all my childhood dreams and will remain imprinted in my memory until the end of my days.

Amor Vincit Omnia.
This was written on the back of one of the wedding cards we received.  
Love Conquers All.
And indeed it does. There are no rules and no manuals when it comes to love. There is no right time, right age or right place. Love is versatile and complicated, yet is is also so very unpretentious and easy. It will come to us when we least expected it and it can not be predicted, anticipated, rushed or manipulated. True love is a product of pure mind, endless courage and incurable hope.

It only takes once to get it right. I waited almost half a century to say my yes, yet in hindsight I realize that I would do it all over again. Finding the man of my dreams is worth the wait of a life time.

Dedicated to my husband - my soul-mate and my best friend.