Faith is seeing light with your heart when all your eyes see is darkness.
Forfatter: orkidedatter
Quote:
«Sometimes I wish I would get lost from my life, just sit looking from the sidelines, see how others would handle life if they were in my shoes" ...
Welcome to Orkidedatter
Norwegian:
Sitat:
«noen ganger skulle jeg ønske at jeg gikk meg vill fra livet mitt, bare sitte å se på fra sidelinjen, å se hvordan andre ville taklet livet om de gikk i mine sko»...
Velkommen til Orkidèdatter.
In the mountains far in the big wide tundra she feels small. If Mother Earth decides to shake a little, she has no other choice to join in on what’s happening and let fate determine the outcome.
She sees so far the eye can reach, and the sun shines from the most beautiful blue sky. With paper and pencil she has next to her, she lays down in the snow.
She makes a snow angel … and embraces herself with the energy of nature.
The blue sky reminds her that there is no end, nor any start up there, but a whole eternity. She closes her eyes and feels.
Feeling the force of her heartbeat and her Viking blood running in her vains.
Her blood bubbles and she can feel the presence of something she doesn’t know.
Only her imagination can put an end to her dreams ..
Music notes appear as a movie in her head. Every note has its sound, every sound has its picture and every picture gives her a word …
Where the ancestors have settled from the old times it gives her roots from a time she has not seen, but which she can only feel.
The meditation helps her to sense the nature and it feels like home.
Far down there she can hear the sound of Norway’s longest river. It crumbles, rush and flows like in a rosewood thirst for water.
At the end of the long miles it runs into the ocean and becomes one with the world.
She feels lucky to experience this. It smells like winter and spring. A summer mood at the bottom of the river where withered leaves turns into grass and moss.
Where the little sprouts of the trees and flowers are fighting for life to flourish. Everything will come to life after King Winter’s farewell.
She’s finished now, and thanks her spirit and soul, and thanks Mother Earth for this time. She knows she’s coming back in the summer. With a hope to flourish like the mountain in hope and faith.
At home in the sunset, she is grateful. She writes it down in a book she calls «Orchid Garden». Here she fills up the blank sheets with positive things and experiences.
She sits quietly until the sun has gone completely down. She can still feel the warmth of the sunset that spreads her colors around the world with a prayer to all of us for love.
In the sunrise the next morning there is a new day …
It’s quiet, only the birds that chirp a jolly song break the silence. Only the trees in her garden whiz a gently good morning and flutter with their big branches so her hair flutters.
She always has pen and paper with her, and this time she writes the notes in her mind in the form of a poem and she has her paint brush and colors ready.
What turns into life in her drawing book will she discover soon…
I am at my cabin on Easter holiday, and it is lovely weather.
Bring the dogs out for a walk down the river is like cleaning my soul.
To listen to the water that trickles and look at the clear ice water where the snow has melted makes me grateful to be able to experience just that.
The sun warms and I can glimpse the autumn’s old foliage that protrudes under the snow.
I play with one of my dogs and all the peace. The only thing that breaks the silence is the bird whites from the little birds in the trees and the great white majestic swans in the water.
The water sparcles in the sun from the opening in the ice and it is as if nature is talking to me. The water tells a story that comes to life in my mind.
I go back to my cabin. Produces pen and paper and puts me in the sofa corner and feels inspired to write s poem or write a short story or actually an erotic short story on this Saturday night.
I let the pen play over the paper …
I wish you all out there a wonderful Saturday, maybe it is Sunday where you live🦋
For hver gang hun tar penselen opp og ser på fargene som ligger foran henne, vil hennes hjerte synge en glad sang.
Når hun bestemmer seg for hvilken farge hun skal ha på sitt penselstrøk vil hennes sjel juble.
I det hun lar pensel og maling bli ett, skriker hennes følelser av smerte, og det ene penselstrøket minner henne på hva som var.
Hun kan ha lyse og glade farger, men allikevel kastes det en skygge over dem.
Hun kan velge triste og mørke farger og allikevel kastes en skygge over dem så de blir enda mørkere.
Hun kan bruke penselen fort med bestemte strøk. Eller bruke penselen forsiktig med lette bevegelser.
For hvert penselstrøk er det en følelse.
Jo mer hun maler, jo mer kommer «hun» frem i fargenes spill. Hennes innerste speiler seg i hva som males foran henne.
Hun trekker pusten skjelvende og holder opp det hun maler foran seg. I et lite øyeblikk, et glimt av spøkelsene og et lite glimt av smerte, kan hun se noe forandrer seg.
Hun henger opp det hun har malt opp på veggen. Tar noen steg tilbake og med beundring i blikket hun ser skyggene blir mindre og fargene kommer klarere frem.
Kan hun mestre å gi slipp.
Kan hun farge over det som var med nye farger.
Kan mørke bli lyst igjen.
Hvilke farger vil hun male på sine skjøre vinger som skal lære seg å fly?
Hun tørker bort noen tårer, tårer som faller fra dypet i hennes hjerte og som hun dekker sin sjel med…
-Orkidedatter-
//
A brush stroke
For every time she picks up the brush and looks at the colors in front of her, her heart will sing a happy song.
When she decides what color she should wear on her coat, her soul will rejoice.
As she lets brush and paint become one, her feelings of pain scream, and one brush stroke reminds her of what was.
She can have bright and happy colors, but still a shadow is thrown over them.
She can choose sad and dark colors and yet a shadow is thrown over them so they become even darker.
She can use the brush quickly with specific coats.Or use the brush gently with light movements.
For each brush stroke there is a feeling.
The more she paints, the more «she» appears in the games of color.Her innermost is reflected in what is painted in front of her.
She shakes her breath trembling and holds up what she paints in front of her.In a moment, a glimpse of the ghosts and a little glimpse of pain, she can see something changing.
She hangs up what she has painted on the wall.Take a few steps back and with admiration in the eye she sees the shadows getting smaller and the colors became clearer.
Can she master to let go…
Can she color over what was with new colors…
Can darkness brighten again…
What colors will she paint on her fragile wings that will learn to fly?
She wipes away some tears, tears falling from the depths of her heart and covering her soul with …
Under meditasjon har jeg lært meg aksept. Å lære det som er- når det er.
Det har tatt meg tid, men for meg er det en nøkkel til å godta meg og mine tanker og følelser.
Trene på å være bevisst oppmerksom. Trene mine sanser og tankemønstre.
Jeg tror det er flere som kjører oss fast i et tankemønster og dette blir en vond spiral. Jeg har det, men nå går det bedre.
Dette er ikke bare å skru av en knapp, fordi jeg har ingen slik knapp på min kropp.
Jeg øver på å ha kontakt med meg selv, og ikke sitte å se på lenger i mitt eget liv. Med dette mener jeg at det er bare jeg som kan endre hvordan jeg vil ha det. Med hjelp av ulike metoder mestrer jeg dette.
Jeg hadde bare ønsket at jeg kunne dette for lenge siden.
Meditasjon var et ord jeg bare hadde hørt og det samme var det med mindfulness.
Når jeg begynte for noen år siden å bli nysgjerrig på dette og få føle dette på min egen kropp, forstod jeg verdien av det.
Å være oppmerksom på det som skjer inni meg selv, observere mine tanker og følelser.
Tro.
-Orkidedatter-
//
Meditation
During meditation I have learned acceptance. To learn what is when it is.
It has taken me time, but for me it’s a key to accepting me and my thoughts and feelings.
Exercise to be consciously aware. Exercise my senses and thought patterns.
I think there are several who drive us into a thought pattern and this becomes a bad spiral. I got it, but now it’s better.
This is not just turning off a button because I have no such button on my body.
I practice to have contact with myself and not to look any further in my own life. By this I mean that it is only me who can chang…
I had just wished I could do this long ago.
Meditation was a word I had only heard, and so was mindfulness.
When I began to be curious about this a few years ago and feel this on my own body, I understood the value of it.
To be aware of what is happening inside myself, observe my thoughts and feelings.
Orkidèdatter 