Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Choose both.

When you are faced with two alternatives

Choose both. And should they put you to the test,

Tick every box. Nothing is ever single.

A seed's a tree's a ship's a constellation.

Nail your true colours to this branching mast.

Advice, by Robert Crawford, b.1959

Don't be greedy. Be satisfied with what you have. Make a choice.

This is what we all learn. Are they good rules to follow? Dare - I read over at Paris Parfait today. Choose both. Live life fully. It isn't about greed. It isn't about can or can't have. It is about living life as it is meant to be lived. It is about following the tracks made ready for you. It is about paying forward what you have got.

Choose both. Live your life. God bless you.

The photo is from last summer, shot around midnight outside the cabin of good friends.

A traveller's Year - June. Around the Trondheim Fjord.

Readers of my blog know my fascination of travelling the world, but if you have read my blog close you also know that I love other kinds of travels. Having a traveller's soul I often look upon my twice-a-day walks in the garden as travels, a bustrip home from town is sweet travel food for my soul, during a daytrip for work I always sneak in moments for my traveller spirit. (the links will take you on travels to other travel posts)

Yesterday Terje and I celebrated our 27th anniversary. Neither of us need more "wardrobe fillings", so our present to each other was a day off, just the two of us on a drive around the Trondheim Fjord. There are so many things in this area we wanted to see. Places we have been before, and also new places, new experiences. A s soon as we had decided on the direction for our day it was alot of fun planning what we actually wanted to see and to do. A nursery specializing on fucsias, a prayer at Tautra Monastery, a "Maria-exhibition" at a small gallery at the island Tautra, lunch, coffee, another exhibition of kimonos from Japan shown on the attic of an old, Norwegian barn, old monastery ruins abandoned 800 years ago, old houses, nature........and each other.

I plan to show you more art photos from our day next week while we are in Italy.

Thanks Merisi in Vienna for these words from Goethe:

Willst du immer weiter schweifen?
Sieh, das Gute liegt so nah.
Lerne nur das Glück ergreifen.
Denn das Glück ist immer da.

You will find the translation in Merisi's comment here.

Shopping time.

Shopping doesn't have a very high priority on my list of what I love to do. Well, that is unless I do it with my girls.

We had a mother-daughters day this week, visiting alot of favorite shops. Shoes for walking the streets of Rome, a bag for the vacation, books to read on the beach, lotion for the sun, writing paper and notebooks for travel notes........and of course lunch at a café, coffee in a coffee shop.

Ingrid-Elise loves bags and purses (who doesn't....), and counted the buttons as we say in Norway, for a couple of hours to decide if she had enough money to buy this white bag which would be perfect for her Italian travel next week. In the end I couldn't resist, and gave it to her.

Marta is dreaming of a week at a beach in Italy. Lotions are essential, and The Body Shop has a wonderful range of different fragrances.

All our kids know that if they ask for a book I can NEVER say no. I leave all I am doing to go to the bookstores with them and buy everything they want :-). Ingrid will be studying for her driving licence during her beach days (she will be 18 in August), but will also have time for leisure reading. She ended up with Marian Keyes' Suchi for Beginners.

Marta and I share a love for stationary, notepads and everything connected to writing, drawing and painting, and we both write long travel diaries when we travel. Here Marta is making sure she has enough paper to help her through two weeks in Italy.

My husband met us at the end of the day. He needed a black suit for an upcoming wedding. And it was soon time for coffee.....and then a family dinner with my parents.

The Gardener's Year - June

Midsummer, and life is busy in the garden. I sit down at the blue table with a glass of white wine enjoying Karel Capek's funny writing from The Gardener's Year:

"If it were any use, the gardener would fall on his knees every day and would pray perhaps something like this: Lord God, bring it about somehow so that it rains every day from about midnight to three in the morning, but, You know, slowly and warmly enough for it to soak in, but, at the same time, so that it doesn't rain on the Sweet William, Madwort, Rock Rose, Lavender and those other plants which, by Your infinite wisdom, are known to You as drought-loving plants - if You like, I'll write them down for You on a sheet of paper: and let the sun shine all day, but not everywhere (for example, not on the Spireaes, nor on the Gantians, Funkia or Rhododendrons) and not too much; let there be lots of dew and only a little wind, planty of worms, no aphids or slugs, no mildew, and let it rain diluted dung water and pigeon droppings once a week. Amen"

Reflections from The Blue Table - Longing

"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter" John Keats.

I am sitting at The Blue Table reading about the nuns at Tautra. I met sister Hanne-Marie a few days ago, she talked about the daily rythm at the monastery. They have their hours for sleep, for eating, for work and for prayers. Same rythm every day. Just like our breathing, or like the tide in the fjord near the monastery.

The water is coming in, going out, coming in, going out. The nuns pray, eat, work, sleep.....

"Somebody must live this praying life here on earth" sister Hanne-Marie says. "Somebody must spend their life in praying for the Creation".

Monastery is not for me. God's plan for my life is something else, and he is teaching me every day how I am to live his sacred plan for my life.

Living my life I often have a feeling of longing. I long for something, but it is impossible to find the words to describe what I am longing for. I think longing is a lovemark God painted in our hearts before we were born. A lovemark shaped like a small, golden key. And with this key we can open the gates of heaven.....when we reach the last step of the stairs which is our life.

My hiking boots.

I have a pair of hiking boots. They are magical. They take me high and low to places I couldn't have found without them. They are waterproof, they give my feet perfect support, they encorage me to break borders.

Yesterday my hikingboots took me up the hills behind the city of Trondheim, to Bymarka.

Terje and I are reaching a new stage in our life together, the part when the kids are moving out of the nest. Or at least practicing on flying. It is different to be just the two of us. Almost like our first dating days. We enjoy it.

Yesterday we did a hike. A long hike when I fully felt the pleasure of letting my body work. A long hike where we fully enjoyed creation's beauty.

Whay kind of hiking boots do you have?

A Passage to India - or Booktalk on a Sunday 21

Six years ago I got a phonecall from a friend. "Do you want to go to Rome? I am organizing a bustour for deacons, and I have one seat free for you. But you have to decide at once." Though I have been in Rome at least once a year since then, I had never been there when the call came. "Oh, please, give me a break. Decide at once? Can I call you back tomorrow? I must go home and discuss this with my husband first. And I must ask to get some time off at work........"

My heart was poundering when I went home that day. A bus trip down through Europe, stopping at several wonderful places, ending up in Rome. A city I had dreamed to visit for years.

First think I do when I come home from work, is to check the mailbox. That particular day, in between papers and bills, was a postcard. From Rome! Showing the Colosseum. The postcard was from my penpal through many years, Caroly, who lives in India. She wrote: "Dear Britt-Arnhild. I am in Rome visiting my daughter, and due to circumstances I must stay here a few months. Now, when we are in Europe both of us, why don't you come down to Rome, and we can finally meet."

Had I got this postcard the day before I would have had to say "oh, I am sorry, but Rome is so far away, there is no way I will be able to travel there....." Now I sat down first thing after dinner and wrote. "Dear Carolyn. I am coming to Rome. We will finally meet!."

Carolyn has been my penpal for about 12 years, all since I had my name and address in the penpal list in Quilters Newsletter Magazine. Every few months I get a thick envelope made of handmade ricepaper, decorated with colourful stamps, from India. It is a highlight to read Carolyn's letters, with her words, with photos of her big family and beautiful home, clippings from local newspapers, pamflets from organizations working in India, wise reflections on political issues......... And in every letter Carolyn invites me to come to India to visit her. Over the years it has become a dream for me to go there, to India and Mysore, to visit my dear friend. A dream I keep deep in my heart, but like so many dreams I never really believe that it will come true.

Untill suddenly I said to myself: "Britt-Arnhild, you have had this dream for so long now. Have you realized that the best person to make the dream come true is yourself. Next year you turn half a century. Why don't you give yourself A Passage to India as a birthday gift?"

All through these years that I have dreamed of going to India I have bought books from and about the country. Now I have Indian books that will last me several years :-) And to prepare for my trip I am now reading two of them. Dervla Murphy's travel tale from 1976, On a Shoestring to Coorg", where she writes about an experience in Southern India, where she travelled with her then five year old daughter. And an old classic, E.M.Forster's A Passage to India.

Moments worth saving.

Two women sit in the front seats of city bus no 4. Face to face. The oldest one has a black suitcase at her feet, the younger one has a suitcase the same king size, though hers is bright pink.

The suitcases look empty. The two women are no tourists on the bus, they vividly articulate in the local dialect about an upcoming trip to France.

I am on my way home from work. Usually I take a nap or read a few pages from my book during the 25 minutes the busride takes. But I am easily disturbed by the chatting of fellow passengers.

The two women have moved from a discussion about how to ask for hair dyes in French, via a man one of them had dinner with yesterday over to quite more philosophical issues - What if we live in two parallell worlds and the bus right in front of us is filled with exactly the same people as in this bus? What if our lives are only illusions? What if we are marionettes operated by giants?

My inside is dancing with joy. I love to listen to talks like this. I love to observe. I love to imagine. I feel blessed when I in short glimpses can follow the life and thoughts of other people.

Carefully I open my backpack and find the little blue and white notebook which follows me everywhere. The notebook where I write down moments worth saving.

The photo is from a cafè-garden at Lindisfarne, where I had other moments worth saving.

Give me a break!

My summer vacation starts today. Yeah!

If I was a silversmith

If I was a silversmith I would make an enameled brochè like this flower. I would wear the brochè daily as a reminder of the beauty of creation.

_______________________

There are alot of "ifs" in my life. If I let my smile meet my neighbour today, if I let my pen write, if I use my wings....... I welcome them. They are my dreams, they are my motivations, they are my guiding stars.

There are also a few "if only" around.  If only I had more time, if only I was fitter, if only I could do better. The "if onlys" are not welcomed guests. They tend to drain energy out of me, they tend to turn my mind in an unwanted direction. They don't lead me to live my life the way it is meant to be lived.

If I was a silversmith I would make an enameled brochè and wear it every day to display beauty. I am no silversmith. And I will never be a silversmith. I am a wordsmith, and it is for me to develop what I have been given, to forge words. Words to show God's greatness, words to show creation's beauty. Again I pray Santa Birgitta's prayer - God show me the road, and help me to walk it willingly.