All posts filed under: Stories and Poems

Ring tone

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I was looking for somebody´s number in my phone today, and I found yours. I was in a hurry, rushing through the list I wished to complete by the end of the day, and there you were. In black and white on the screen. The letters of your name ringing out, as if you were still there. A name in my list of contacts. A cell phone number not dialled for some time, staring at me as if the signs and numbers themselves were eyes, had a presence. What would happen if I called you? If I let my fingers slide across the touch-screen, swipe the call – icon to dial your number? Would there be a ring-tone? And, if there were, how many? Would there be a click before the voicemail automatically switched on, at the end of that last ring-tone? Or would that last one end in silence? If you could pick up, what would you say? Would you tell me where you are? How you are doing? What you are doing? Would …

In my heart of hearts I

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In my heart of hearts I hear music sing to my soul In my heart of hearts I am music In my heart of hearts I spill in to the world of creation like a brittle waterfall, a whiskering wind, like a tone of love, of wildness, of quaking wisdom shivering out of my bones In my heart of hearts I know who I am In my heart of hearts I melt into the mother, become the father In my heart of hearts I am the speck of oneness, the soul who is the muse, the giver of joy, simultaneously In my heart of hearts, there is no stopping me, No boundaries, no beginning, no ending, in my heart of hearts In my heart of hearts I look deep into the brown-yellow eyes of the enormous white wolf in the mirror looking back at me, eyes full of tenderness, eyes full of knowing, soul full of worship In my heart of hearts I come home to who I am, to who I was, to who …

Swedish/ 1 msk Plantago Psyllium, 50 koppar inspiration

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Motvilligt öppnade hon köksdörren. Den gnisslade mer än vanligt, som om den också protesterade med. Försöktigt steg hon in i köket, ”som Mojje Mockasin” kom hon på sig själv att tänka. Solen sken in genom de höga fönstren, lite disigt ljus genom smutsiga rutor. Där, till höger om den gamla knarrande kylen, hängde det rosablommiga förklädet hennes mormor och senare hennes mor alltid använt vid bak, stek, disk och till och med grill dags. Med darrande händer knöt hon det runt sin mijda, slätade ut det med båda händerna innan hon formade sitt bångstyriga hår till nån slags hästsvans. ” Hår i maten är lika illa som en fluga i soppan” hörde hon mormor Valty’s röst så klar i bakhuvudet att hon snurrade runt för att möta leendet och rynkorna som hörde till rösten, bara för att inse att det inte var något annat än den gamla hederliga köksväggen bakom henne. Drömmande tog hon tag i handväskan, letande efter receptet Johanna hade skickat förra veckan. Receptet till hennes bästa väninnas favoritbröd, som hon lovat att …

Intimacy

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Our monthly Writer’s Circle in The Hague is spread around the globe at the moment, which does not stop us from writing together. Those of us who can´t be there in person when we meet monthly get the 10 minute speed writing subject e-mailed and then we can join in the writing, which we all share amongst each other in cyberspace. This week’s writing really opened up a dam in me I have to say, and before I share my piece with you I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you for my dear Writer’s Circle ladies who have become some of the closest friends ever. In writing you go so immensely deep, and it takes a really safe place to be able to just open up and let it all out – that is what you all are! Thank you! OK, here is my piece for this month; Intimacy is seeing through your skin, not just your eyes, not just your words, not just the passion we share. Intimacy is feeling, …

Flight

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Our Writer’s Circle still has it’s seat in The Hague, but with quite some of us – myself included since a month and a half – living in other countries we take part in the montly speed writing sessions by writing wherever we are on the chosen subject and then we all share with each other online for the one’s who are not physicaly in Den Haag. Yesterday’s subject for the 10 minute speed writing session was “Flight”. Here I am sharing my piece; Flight I want to take flight. Feel the wind beneath my wings, letting my heart soar up to the heavens. From up there I will be with you again. All of you whom I carry in my heart. All of you whom have moved my heart and inspiration to flutter. Flutter like the wings of a butterfly, reborn to her true purpose in a new shade. Flutter like the wings of a songbird, the wings of a bat, the wings of a pterodactyl even. You have taken me to ancient times, …

Return

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photo from http://www.dreamstime.com During our Writer’s Circle in January the subject for our 10 minute speed writing session was “Return”. It is not for nothing that I found that piece now, 4 days before we move countries, from The Netherlands to my native Sweden…. The return is imminent, faith awaits Her huge white wings sweeping me in, closing out the darkness for now As the wings open the dark, velvety night sky is adorned with galaxies, light-holes and wishes turned in whisper I stand there, basking in her glow, listening to the whispers from now, the whispers from before, the whispers that were, that are, that will come. In this place all is one. There is no then, no now, no later . Is the return really a return? Or is it an opening of what was always there? She asks me to open my eyes, my ears, my heart with softness, with a waiting, whatever comes in. A feather falls from the sky into my hand. I can feel its softness caressing my cold …

Past Lovers

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Yesterday, in our monthly Writer´s Circle in den Haag, Kathy gave us a subject to write about that first made me cringe. It did that because a lot of things had to come out or be “written out” during this very time in my life, with the daily letting go of this place to move to the next place thousands of kilometres away from here. So thank you Kathy for making us write things out of our system! Here is my piece: When does a Love become a Past Love? This very moment, as the present takes over? Is past love, lost love? Can you love somebody more and love somebody less? Is there a less less or a less intense, a more less , or a more intense? Whatever it is, at this moment it hurts. It hurts because I find myself loving not just people, but moments with people. Past Loves, Past Lovers – what is the difference? When does Love turn into a Lover? When you Love, are you not a Lover …

For H….. – and for M

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You arrived with a bunch of our “season-friends”, smile from cheek to cheek as if you had swallowed the sun. My heart fluttered, euphoria “He is here”, “he really came” A wonderful summer could not come to a better end. More than a hundred very special people, connected in ways most outsiders never would understand gathered in the evening sun this day in August. Short speech, the bar open, the band playing, the buffet inviting everyone to celebrate. The air was alive, the hearts were filled to the brim, the beer was cold. “Will you come with me?” “Yes”, I whispered. Your hands were warm. “Tonight I have to host this party but tomorrow I am all yours. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us”. My words held a promise. Two souls, young, fearless and bright amidst this crowd of connected spirits, snowflakes being our glue. It is night. I lie here curled up against his body. My face drowning in his naked chest, my whole being shivering, quaking. I try to …

Thank you

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This past Friday it was time for our monthly Writer´s Circle get together again, and the theme for the first 10 min speedwriting exercise was “Thank you”. Thank you morning, for waking me up with cold feet and warm, fuzzy blankets of breathing huskies curled up against my back. Thank you table, for supporting me while I scribble, sharing this space with my fellow writers. Thank you, for our “Fellowship Of The Ring”, the “Fellowship Of The Ever Moving Creative Pen”. Thank you creaking door, for awakening the curiosity, the wonder, the inspiration of “who could that be”, for every whiff of fresh winter air sweeping in to tickle my nostrils. Thank you golden threads of magic being woven into my life constantly changing direction, serving up challenges and new situations. Thank you new ways, old ways, good ways, bad ways, corny ways, fun ways, crappy ways. Basically just thank you for all the options. Thank you for this day, this very morning, this moment. Thank you for this place, this space with all its …