My memory just took me back to an image of a street light I saw through our living room where we lived when I was a kid. Big thick snowflakes were dancing in it's warm almost orange light. It reminded me how the snow just kept on falling and falling, and falling. Cold flakes painting the dark night in white. It was so quiet you could hear the random car slowly drive by even though the snow blanket did it's best in muffling every sound. No one was walking out there. Everyone was inside and maybe already asleep.
I had no lights on nor candles lit in our living room. No music or tv disturbing the darkness and quietness. Turning on the low lamp next to the couch gave me enough light to see to write in my diary: A notebook, the cover was fabric, mellow colored flowers. Holding it in my hands, but I wouldn't open it just yet. Not for a while. I was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. Eyes losing focus as mind started to wander. Such a solitude. No sign of any other living being. Just my knowledge of it. A world without snow, with sun and daylight and careless noise seemed almost not possible.
Right there, I had captured that very moment in my heart and locked away until now.
I think I stayed on that couch, maybe even slept there, the whole night. I wasn't sad. I might perhaps have been a bit lonely but I believe I wanted to cherish just that. There was an empowering beauty to it. Regardless of who else existed or not I knew I did, with such a fierce will.
12 January, 2015
05 May, 2014
My language
I used to write in swedish but it feels untrue to me now. I don't experience my life in swedish anymore. It's hard to re learn to express myself in the same form in a different language. I feel like I'm missing nuances, loosing flow, searching too long for the right word. I was never really bothered by being grammatically correct in swedish. It was about the artistic expression and I rather create language than following old rules. But to be able to bend the rules gracefully you need to know them well. In English I'm not quite there. Maybe not at all.
When it comes down to it though, I rather write in my most honest language to get a more sincere connection to whomever might be interested in reading. If it's broken words at least it's my broken words. They tell more of a story than any correctness could.
So if you read this blog, I apologize for butchering this language.
When it comes down to it though, I rather write in my most honest language to get a more sincere connection to whomever might be interested in reading. If it's broken words at least it's my broken words. They tell more of a story than any correctness could.
So if you read this blog, I apologize for butchering this language.
Until we feel what we know, live what we feel.
Where there was something missing
your presence nestled in
Such distraction;
a break in our affliction.
In a fluent kind of way
the curiosity was pulling me.
We all know what happened to the cat
but caution had grown exhausted that day and weeks to come.
Resistance shaved away by persistence
I have a heart of stone but the waves kept rolling in.
Opening my eyes to what I didn't see
You said you could read my feelings in them.
It was surely your own projection. Eyes are mirrors
and you admired your reflection.
You took some of what I didn't know I had to give.
Now the seal is broken and I'm flowing, overflowing ,
like crying in self pity over crying
or laughing because laughing feels so good
And closeness was like laughing.
Building habit, causing need.
When the monster in my dream was in the shape of you
what woke me up was your arms gentle embrace.
Your fears and my pride met in the darkness of an alley
with gushing blood and tender bruises they opted out of shaking hands.
But when we closed our eyes and no broken words were spoken the calmness gave us reason.
A soothing comfort for the damaged warriors inside us.
No matter how I try I can not seem to find a place in your soul where i want to nest. Yet here I am still searching as you already are walking away. Just to come back, you seem to forget to detach your strings.
While you are growing tired I'm being lit by my own fire.
A lashing anger is raging inside me.
How did you touch my passion?
It wasn't meant for you.
There is lava on the floor
I can not be put down, I want to jump from stone to stone until I reach my home.
your presence nestled in
Such distraction;
a break in our affliction.
In a fluent kind of way
the curiosity was pulling me.
We all know what happened to the cat
but caution had grown exhausted that day and weeks to come.
Resistance shaved away by persistence
I have a heart of stone but the waves kept rolling in.
Opening my eyes to what I didn't see
You said you could read my feelings in them.
It was surely your own projection. Eyes are mirrors
and you admired your reflection.
You took some of what I didn't know I had to give.
Now the seal is broken and I'm flowing, overflowing ,
like crying in self pity over crying
or laughing because laughing feels so good
And closeness was like laughing.
Building habit, causing need.
When the monster in my dream was in the shape of you
what woke me up was your arms gentle embrace.
Your fears and my pride met in the darkness of an alley
with gushing blood and tender bruises they opted out of shaking hands.
But when we closed our eyes and no broken words were spoken the calmness gave us reason.
A soothing comfort for the damaged warriors inside us.
No matter how I try I can not seem to find a place in your soul where i want to nest. Yet here I am still searching as you already are walking away. Just to come back, you seem to forget to detach your strings.
While you are growing tired I'm being lit by my own fire.
A lashing anger is raging inside me.
How did you touch my passion?
It wasn't meant for you.
There is lava on the floor
I can not be put down, I want to jump from stone to stone until I reach my home.
19 January, 2014
Words...
The little winding rode of words is tempting me down the path of creation. It's not real and it doesn't exist but it's worth more than anything I've ever touched. As easily as it is to dream as uncomplicated is it to deny it, disregard the thought and idea was ever there. This seldom world in my mind is sacred and holy but nothing to rely on. No prayers or wishes can seek comfort but it does create them. The solitude of imagination is only limiting itself as it continues trekking on, past me.
17 January, 2014
30 October, 2013
A moment in life, spent on the side of the road
If I would've known that those moments when we were waiting, and wondering, and wanting so badly, would've been the very moments I would value the most, would that have made them not the memories I treasure so?
I remember our bikes laid down by the side of the road, I remember the intensely green grass, rain kissed and wind dried, I remember our youth. To say innocence would be a lie because we were witty and mean, we teased and pulled and tested limits. We were hopeful and dreaming and so intensively fearless. But on this day we just sat there in the grass. The things that we pretended to care about then; we knew were fleeting feelings, we weren't stupid but we were living the life that was given us while grasping at more. Those moments in between, like the silent pauses in music, are those that are closest to my heart. The moments where the unspoken knowledge that there will be so much more, that it will be so different, shone through just like the rays of the sun through the clouds that day. The symbolism of the wide horizon and our bikes ready to take us as far as we would have the power to make them take us were so screamingly obvious that we felt free. I can not remember where we went after our pondering at that green hill. If it was followed by a long night slipping into morning spent together or if we parted ways but I do know that this was not the first and far from last moment like this. On rooftops under the stars, summer nights by the lake, freezing in a snow covered forest or exploring at a construction site, so many magic places in our secret world. It was our lives we violently daringly created instead of just silently waiting. No need for others' approval, just each other's acceptance.
If we'd only known enough to appreciate it more, would that have ruined those moments with cynicism and not so false bitterness anymore? If we would've known what we known today, would we have hold on tighter or would we have ran a different direction?
I miss you, friend, I want a moment with you on a grassy hill, talking and teasing and grave honesty. I want that what matters most. Spend some time in our secret world. I want that little nook in time where only you and I and our feelings and thoughts that contain the life around us exist with mutual acceptance and vulnerability. Can we bike there please? Compete a little bit to breathlessly lay our bikes down, while the panting calms down the thoughts settle in and we ask.
I remember our bikes laid down by the side of the road, I remember the intensely green grass, rain kissed and wind dried, I remember our youth. To say innocence would be a lie because we were witty and mean, we teased and pulled and tested limits. We were hopeful and dreaming and so intensively fearless. But on this day we just sat there in the grass. The things that we pretended to care about then; we knew were fleeting feelings, we weren't stupid but we were living the life that was given us while grasping at more. Those moments in between, like the silent pauses in music, are those that are closest to my heart. The moments where the unspoken knowledge that there will be so much more, that it will be so different, shone through just like the rays of the sun through the clouds that day. The symbolism of the wide horizon and our bikes ready to take us as far as we would have the power to make them take us were so screamingly obvious that we felt free. I can not remember where we went after our pondering at that green hill. If it was followed by a long night slipping into morning spent together or if we parted ways but I do know that this was not the first and far from last moment like this. On rooftops under the stars, summer nights by the lake, freezing in a snow covered forest or exploring at a construction site, so many magic places in our secret world. It was our lives we violently daringly created instead of just silently waiting. No need for others' approval, just each other's acceptance.
If we'd only known enough to appreciate it more, would that have ruined those moments with cynicism and not so false bitterness anymore? If we would've known what we known today, would we have hold on tighter or would we have ran a different direction?
I miss you, friend, I want a moment with you on a grassy hill, talking and teasing and grave honesty. I want that what matters most. Spend some time in our secret world. I want that little nook in time where only you and I and our feelings and thoughts that contain the life around us exist with mutual acceptance and vulnerability. Can we bike there please? Compete a little bit to breathlessly lay our bikes down, while the panting calms down the thoughts settle in and we ask.
30 June, 2013
29 June, 2013
Insomnia saves the day
shop around the corner the bar staff gets very happy... =)
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