Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

The People of Syria

@brittarnhild

My prayers today are for the people of Syria. The little boy on his way to school, the girls braiding each others hair, the young mother breastfeeding her newborn, the father working in the fields, the grandmother who looks after her grandchildren, the grandfather who passes tales from his family history to his grandsons. The teacher who is truggling with fear. The nurse without time to help all in need.

My prayers are also for the leaders of the world,
that they may take to right desicions.

 

Read this letter from a small group of trappist nuns in Syria 

and let us all prepare for a day of fasting and prayers on Saturday.

We must not forget

text and images britt-arnhild

The door into my hotel room in Syria.

Sweet memories.
I lived a dream the week I spent there in autumn of 2010.

 

 

What a contrast to the hell which is unfolding in Syria now.

Let us all join hands.

In prayers for a people. A country.

I have no words.

Only tears.

 

To water my prayers.

Let them grow into lilies of peace.

 

 

The Dark Side of Love

text and images britt-arnhild

I am unable to close my eyes for the sufferings of the people of Syria. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Son. Grandparents. Lovers.

So much is taken away from them.

Life.

Love.

Safety.

Future.

Syria. The ancient land, where history is buried under every grain of sand.

History of the Middle East.

History of humanity.

My history.

A history I know so little about.

I don´t want to know about the blood of today, but the deep stains can not be stopped by closed eyes. 

I know. And I am unable to act.

History woven into tales.

What can I do to dye the wool, the cotton, the linen, the silk. Not blood red, But the red of love, of life.

I tie my hands together in silent cries. Why God? Where are you?

Later, much later, I pick up Rafik Schami´s The Dark Side of Love. A flying carpet. And there I am. In the middle of magic!

Homs, as it should be like.

text and image britt arnhild

This is also Homs, in Syria.
From a peaceful, happy day.

My heart bleeds when I hear the news from Homs today.

Let is join hands and hearts in prayers
for the people of Syria

Syria holds a piece of my heart

text and images britt-arnhild

It is easy to leave a piece of your heart when you visit a new country, a new corner of our fantastic world.

I left a big piece of my heart in Syria last year.

My heart cries today when I read that Father Paolo must leave Syria

Jesuit Priest Asked to Leave Syria

I would gladly climb the hundreds of stone steps again to visit Deir Mar Musa.

In my mind I climb the steps again, each step a prayer......for the people of Syria.

The People of Syria

text and images britt-arnhild

 
Last night I took a break from reading about Tibet, walked over to the book cabinet where I have my travel litterature and took out two books about Syria. Before opening the books, starting to read, I opened my computer and looked through my Syria photos.

 
I had spoken to an old friend in the afternoon. Her husband was one of my travel companions during my week in Syria in October, and she told me that she looked at my Syria photos every day. I shared my hundreds of photos with the group, her husband had saved them on his computer and now they were used as screen savers.

 
Her words brought back a flood of memories, and I realised I haven't looked at these photos for months.

 
Syria and its people are on the news daily these days. The people of Syria are fighting a fatal fight for a free, democratic country. What they have to pay is more than I can comprehend. So many deads, so much pains and sufferings.

 
I fell in love with Syria during the week I stayed there. Its colours, fragrances, people, landscape, history......

.....and from books and also experience, its story telling. Its long, rich tradition of oral history and tales.

 
I have my memories, my love, my photos, my books...

...and the strongest force of all, my prayers!

 
My heart is bleeding for the people of Syria.

Send your peace and your love God. Creator of Earth and Firmament.

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If you follow this link you will be taken to all my posts about Syria

Today you begin to change the world

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

"She opened her eyes at four in the morning and thought, Today you begin to change the world, Florita"

I did not open my eyes at four,even though I am an early bird. But when I read these words last night in the book I have on my bedside table, they somehow hit a cord in my. The blessing of every new day given, the blessing of being able to change the world.

We all have this possibility, to change the world. Every new morning is given us, together with the painbox and the palette which is our life.

Some of us travels the world, always on the road, seeking adventures. Some of us are homebound, to a bed, a chair, the four walls of a flat or a house. We have all been given the colours, the brushes, and each and every day a new clean sheet of paper is waiting to be filled.

I woke this morning to a snowy, wet day. This heavy, wet snow which bends the trees, which soaks through everything. I had to look twice, more than twice to see its beaty, I had to fight away the negative "oh no!!!! will spring ever be here" thoughts. Now I have looked twice, and twice again, and I can't take my eyes off the white beauty out in the Blue Garden.

As soon as daylight is here I will be out with my camera.

Today you begin to change the world.

So what are your plans for the day?

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Photos: from Syria, a hotel in the old part of Damascus, where we had breakfast two mornings.

The book on my bedside table: The Way to Paradise by Mario Vargas Llosa

Deir Mar Musa, a million steps in the desert

Text and images Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
In the desert, somewhere north of Damascus, you find the old monastery Deir Mar Musa. There the Italian Padre Paolo has built up a dialogue center where christians and muslims meet.

390 steps took us from the bus up to the monastery. In the burning desert sun I climbed with two water bottles, a camera and a heart filled with anticipation.

 

 In the book The Street Philosopher and The Holy Fool, Marius Kociejovski tells about his visit to Deir Mar Musa, and his meeting with Padre Paolo. He lets Padre Paolo share his thoughts about the dialogue between religions:

When I speak of this I find myself between two points. The first is, what pushed me towards dialogue? It was a deep desire tobe in touch with God and his truth. At the same time, this so deeply pushed me into trying to understand Islam that I can no longer say it confronts me. Islam is too much inside me, it is too much part of my culture now, a part of my way of thinking and of looking towards the Word. So, in fact, the real dialogue is to be no longer as foreigners to each other but to be close, to understand each other as one would one's friends. So you can understand the opinions, ideas and feelings of the other, even without speaking. This is a good historical moment tp pursue this. For the Church Islam is a big question mark. Somebody had to go into this question so deeply as to be within himself a kind of answer. I came to the east many years ago and started then, at the beginning of my formation, to pay attention to the Islamic world. I am not really sure if I understand myself anymore. Am I just a Westerner, a foreigner, as people here sometimes sharply remind me? Yet I feel this valley has been my home, from before creation.

 
Our guide stayed behind in the bus when we started climbing the stairs. "You will meet Padre Paolo up there, and he will tell you everything you want to know."

 
Unfortunately for us, Padre Paolo was not there when we came up. he was travelling somewhere abroad. And nobody else could tell us anything in English.

 
Disapponted first, but then it felt quite alright. I had read so much about Deir Mar Musa already, and I can always read more whenever I want.

Now I could spend my time up there in silence and prayers.

Breakfast under the lime tree

Text and images Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

A couple of nights ago I finished the chapter in my travel book which tells about my week in Syria. While writing it has been almost like living the travel all over again. While reading the chapter I get yet another travel :-)

I am in Oslo today. Came down last night to stay with friends and had a lovely night with them, I could have talked non stop about Syria, but then they came home from Madeira the night before and stopped my flow of words to squeeze in some of their tales.

I am having breakfast in my friends' house. They have already left for work, so I am eating alone. Alone? Oh no, I have my Syria memories with me.

Just now I am dreaming myself back to breakfast under the lime tree. I remember the funny murals in the hotel in Damascus where we spent our two last night and I smile......

 
Memories are precious. Do you have one to share today?

Play the games

Text and images Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
First of all: THANK YOU from the deepest of my heart for the comments you left yesterday. I have read them all, several times, thinking of you and our friendship while reading. I know about such lamps several of you mention, but I don't think I will buy one. My main problem according to winter is the cold, not so much the light, or lack of light. Yes, we have a wood stove, we have electric heathing and we have a hearth. But we also have a huge, open house, so on the coldest days it will take time to heath it all. I will manage though....right now it is more the thoughts of so many winter months ahead.........

 
I do have a lot of things going on to keep warm though. Like celebrating the 9th birthday of a nephew. As  a birthday gift we gave him a backgammon I bought in Damascus, and after eating the birthday cake, he sat down to play with Torgeir (our oldest son)

 
I collect chess games from travels. In Syria there were some amazingly beautiful handmade ones. If I play chess? Yes, I do......a little. Last year our nephew, Benjamin, got a chess game from us which we had bought in Krakow, Poland. Benjamins grandpa has taught him to play chess. A few weeks ago Banjamin slept over with us and before going to bed he came to me: "Aunt Britt-Arnhild, do you want to play chess with me?" Of course I did. When the game was over I was tired and wanted to go to bed. It was way past bedtime for Benjamin, but he went over to Terje with his most charming smile: "Uncle Terje, will you play chess with me?"

Can you guess Terje's answer?........... Well, I can't because I went to bed.......

 
I could have bought several chess games in Syria, but restricted myself to one handmade box and a set of figures. The box was made in Syria, the figures came from India and are pieces of art, every single one.

 
Long, dark and cold winter nights, perfect for celebrations, being together, eating, playing games.......