Tankeslottet; en antologi

januar 31, 2023.Lesetiden er <1 minutt.

«Tankeslottet»

KOMMER I FEBRUAR

«Tankeslottet» en dikt antologi krydret med flere forfattere med garanti om å røre ved din sjel og stemning i ditt hjerte.
Tusen takk til @rebeccablix.forfatter.skribent og @rebecca_blix_forlag du er helt herlig og jeg er så takknemlig for denne muligheten, og tusen takk til kunstner @jarlgoliartworks for å ha illustrert dette nydelige bokomslaget, jeg digger deg og din kunst.
Rebecca og Jarl bidrar med sine dikt også i «Tankeslottet»
Gleder meg til å få denne hjem.

-Lillian Haugland aka Orkidedatter

She lights a candle…

desember 23, 2019.Lesetiden er 3 minutter.

English text after the Norwegian text.

Poem poetry artistic poet artist Norwegian artist author Norwegian author kunstner dikter Norway feelings høytid holidays darksoul følelser

Dagen er kort og natta er lang i

landet i nord med sine snødekte fjell og fjorder

med hvitt slør som ligger stille i denne

mørketida

elven renner med sine snøperler dansende i

fossefallet som svever med nordavinden

bortenfor solen

hun tenner et lys

Nordlyset danser i glede der isbjørnene bor

julestjernen blinker i denne frosne vinternatt

der den siste strålen fra månens mystikk sakte

svinner hen

hun tenner et lys

et barns ansikt hvilende mot vindusruten i håp

om at under treet ligger alt hun ønsker seg

snøkrystaller faller utenfor

alle er unike og vakre

de skinner stemningsfullt i den kalde natten

hun tenner et lys

hennes julehjertet omfavner den svarte

julerosen som gråter kronbladene ned på en

seng av snøkrystaller i håp om minnenes

gjensyn er historiens forsoning der

hun lytter nøye til hennes sjel som synger i

sterke følelser

hun tenner et lys

der hun drømmer en arktisk drøm om

barnetroens mirakler

der den hvite duen flyr lydløst gjennom

lenkene som løfter håpets eventyr bak det røde

havets juvel et sted

med frosten på sine kinn tenner hun et lys for

alle de historiene som blir uttrykt uten ord…

The day is short and the night is long in this

country in the north with its snow-capped

mountains and

fjords with white veil that lie still in this dark

time

the river flows with its snow beads dancing in

the waterfall that hovers with the north wind

beyond the sunbeam

she lights a candle

The Northern Lights dances in joy where the

polar bears drill Christmas star blinks in this

frozen winter night where the last ray of the

moon’s mystery slowly fades away until

she lights a candle

a child’s face resting against the window pane

in the hope that underneath the tree lies

everything she wants

snow crystals fall outside are unique and

beautiful

shines evocative in the cold night

she light lights a candle

where she dreams an arctic dream about the

miracle of the infant faith the white dove flies

silently through the chains that lift the

adventure of hope behind the jewel of the Red

Sea somewhere

with the frost on her cheeks,

she lights a candle

for all the stories that are expressed without

words. ..

-Orkidedatter-

The silence of the forest.

mai 25, 2019.Lesetiden er 2 minutter.

Me and my little family went out into the forest today.

We were just going to be with the «silence of the nature»

I open the car door and felt the clean energy of the forest fill me up immediately.

I looked down on the ground where I was just about to put my foot down. There on the ground, there were many ants, so there was one jump and bounce and Lillian was safely on a rock.

My husband understood he didn’t have to ask me for help, and he fixed everything. My son laughed and looked at me and we laughed even more.

I spend some time on an outside meditation and looking curiously at my husband. Our son and he was fishing.

My mind never rest and words and pictures begin to take shape. I have to write down the words and enter wildly on the phone.

I meet the gaze of my husband and his bright blue eyes sparkles towards me. He has already been tan and his strong arms pulsating towards me .

He reads my body language and how I smile at him. He understands what happens in my heart and mind.

I sit on the stone and write and put a strawberry into my mouth.

He comes to me, whispers something in mye ear, and I love it when he does that. I hide the rest of the strawberries.

I grab his arms and put them around me and I felt his heart rhythm.

I did not finish the poem..but I got the forest’s clean air in my lungs, the water’s energy and be with those who mean everything to me.

..and I have smiled and laughed a lot ..

We get a trout, who came home with us.

And I… I know what to do with the rest of the strawberries tonight 😉

🦋

-Lillian-

Up from the ashes

mai 8, 2019.Lesetiden er 2 minutter.

(English text after the Norwegian text)

Hun reiser seg fra asken.
Hun vet ikke om hun er død eller levende.
Øynene føles som kull.
Hennes kropp kan hun ikke kjenne igjen.
Hun lytter.
Føler etter hjerterytme sin.
Det er tomt.
Føles tungt.
Er det mørkt?
Hvilken sorg var hun?
Hvilken smerte ble hun?
Hvilken kjærlighet skal hun velge?
Hun går utover landskapet som skinner.
Hun ser en elv.
Hun løfter blikket.
Hun ser grønne enger rundt elven.
Ved elven under et tre står en mann.
Hun ser seg tilbake og en sorg fyller hele
hennes sjel.
Bak henne er det varmt og flammer kastes
mot henne.
som blafrer.
Hun skimter farger av oransje, gul og rød
Det gjør vondt.
Hun har kommet til livets slutt.
Hvilken vei skal hun velge?
Hun velger å gå mot mannen.
Han strekker sine hender mot henne.
Hun nøler et øyeblikk.
Livet vises i revy i hennes hode.
Det er ingenting å gå tilbake til.
Hun velger en fremmed dør.
Den åpnes.
Hun føler håp og glede.
Arrene skal gro.
Hun lever.
🦋
-Lillian-

Up from the ashes…

She gets up from the ashes
She doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive
The eyes feel like coal
She can’t recognize her body
She listens
Feeling her heartbeat
It is empty
Feels heavy
Is it dark
What grief was she
What pain did she get
What love should she choose
She goes beyond the landscape that shines
She sees a river
She lifts her eyes
She sees green meadows around the river
At the river under a tree stands a man
She looks back and a sorrow fills her whole
soul
against her
Behind her it is hot and flames are thrown
against her
She glimpse the colors of orange, yellow and
red that flutter
It hurts
She has come to the end of life
Which way should she choose
She chooses to go against the man
He stretches his hands toward her
She hesitates for a moment
Life is shown in revue in her mind
There is nothing to go back to
She chooses a foreign door
It opens
She feels hope and joy
The scars must grow
She is alive
🦋
-Lillian-

Meditation..

april 27, 2019.Lesetiden er 2 minutter.

(This post is only in English)

It was a bit cloudy in the mountains today, but it does not stop Lillian from an outdoor meditation.

I sit down on a stone, feel like I get in touch with Mother Earth and listen to the sounds. The silence is the right word, but it is only broken by the stream running next to me.

First, I take a look at the stream that trickles. Look at the water and the patterns in it. I see the stones on the bottom and it flows.

I close my eyes and my soul goes on adventure.

I stand on the highest mountain and look down on the dense deep forest and cry out loud over mountains, plains, fjords and other fauna. «I managed it» …

I see for myself the «ladder» I have climbed up and down so many times. When I have climbed a step up, I have fallen three steps down again.

The road from the abyss and just getting the «head over the water» has been a battle on my own.

I imagine the steep and slippery mountainsides where nothing has been used.

Then it has been to walk sideways a good distance with the ladder on the back which weighs extra.

Sleeping and heavy it has been, where mouse steps have become a nightmare and I just want wings like a bird so I can escape over the challenging mountains I have in front of me.

Again, I want to welcome my thoughts as if they are guests in my house with me. Taking them kindly in and when it’s time to go, I say goodbye and close the door.

-This is so powerful to me, and help me a lot.

Thank you nature and Mother Earth.

-Orkidedatter-

Poisonous words

april 26, 2019.Lesetiden er 2 minutter.

(English text after the Norwegian)

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du hennes følelser.

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du hennes erfaringer

og opplevelser.

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du «livet».

Det er som kniver blir hugget

inn i hennes hjerte

og piggtråd som strammer til

langt inn i hennes hjerte.

Hjertet blør og hennes sjel

vrir seg i smerte.

Det er vondt.

Deres blodsbånd er usynlig,

men for henne alltid bundet.

Det er vondt.

Hun tar et skritt tilbake,

og lar giftige ord passere forbi.

Hun hilser de velkomne, men

lar de gå.

Det er som en kald vinternatt

der isstapper så spisse som

piler blir kastet inn i hennes hud.

Det svir og brenner, og arrene

er.

De begynner å falme, hjerte hennes gror

og sjelen blomstrer.

Hun snur ryggen til og går, men

følelsen av alltid være udugelig,

skyld og skam sitter som

brent fast i hennes ånd.

-Orkidedatter-

Poisonous words.

When she talks to you,

you arouses her feelings.

When she talks to you,

you arouses her experiences.

When she talks to you, you arouses

her whole «life», she try to heal.

It is like knives being carved

in her heart and barbed wire

that tightens into her heart.

The heart bleeds and her soul

is twisted in pain.

It hurts.

Their blood band is invisible,

but for her it always bound.

It hurts.

She takes a step back and

lets poisonous words pass by.

She welcomes they, and let it go.

It is like a cold winter’s night

that icicles flies like arrowheads

thrown into her skin.

It burns, and the scars have a pain

she can’t describe.

They begin to fade,

the heart of her heals,

and the soul is flourishing.

She turns her back to the

words of poison

and goes away, but

the feeling of being always

inept, guilt and shame

is like burned in to her spirit.

-Orkidedatter-

Colorless

april 24, 2019.Lesetiden er 3 minutter.

(English text after the Norwegian text).

Hun tar sine siste skritt.

Her hun kaller sitt hjem.

Hun snur seg og ser sine egne fotspor.

Hun var ikke klar over at de så slik ut.

Hun opplever at den ene foten skiller seg ut fra den andre.

Det er som hennes fotspor prøver å si henne noe.

Hennes fotspor er overalt på dette stedet.

Så mye følelser.

Hun ønsker bare å viske de bort.

Hun skal snart ut på en reise.

En reise der hun skal farge alle farger i regnbuen, i vinden og på sine vinger.

Hun ser for seg en hvit sommerfugl.

Flyr igjennom kraftig motvind.

Faller.

Ligger livløs på bakken.

Hun stryker den varsomt.

Hun ser et lite sår i den skjøre kroppen.

Det vil alltid bli et arr.

Hun løfter den opp mot himmelen.

Håper den er sterk nok til å fly.

Sommerfuglens følehorn beveger seg opp og ned.

Retter litt på vingene sine.

Løfter seg opp og flyr.

Langt borte i horisonten er den bare en svart prikk.

I hånden hennes ligger sommerfuglens avtrykk igjen.

Sommerfuglens støv skinner som glitter i hennes hånd i alle mulige farger.

Så den hvite sommerfuglen var ikke helt hvit alikevel…

Den gjemte bare sin skjønnhet.

Kanskje en dag alle ser hvor vakker den fargeløse og hvite sommerfuglen er…

-Orkidedatter-

Colorless:

She takes her final steps.

Here she calls her home.

She turns around and sees her own footsteps.

She didn’t realize they looked like this.

She feels that one foot stands out from the other.

It’s like her footsteps trying to tell her something.

Her footsteps are everywhere in this place.

So much emotion.

She just wants to wipe them away.

She will soon be on a journey.

A journey where she will color all colors in the rainbow,

in the wind and in her colorless wings.

She envisions a white butterfly.

Feeling through heavy headwinds.

Fall.

Lives lifeless on the ground.

She strokes it gently.

She sees a small wound in the fragile body.

It will always be a scar.

She lifts it up to the sky.

Hope it is strong enough to fly.

The butterfly’s feelings move up and down.

Turns its wings slightly.

Raises up and flies.

Long away from the horizon it is just a black shadow.

In her hand, the butterfly’s imprint is again.

Dust shines like glitter in her hand,

in all possible colors.

So the white colorless butterfly was not quite white anyway …

It just hid its beauty.

Maybe someday everyone sees how

beautiful the colorless and white butterfly is …

-Orkidedatter-

Life seeds…

april 22, 2019.Lesetiden er <1 minutt.

(This post in only in English)

(I’m not quite sure if you can read the text well in the picture, so I write it as well)…

As she saw the

shadows moving

slowly, so she felt her heartbeat in

her chest,

the moon’s magic myth spread around her

and she felt cold.

The shadows glanced around her heart,

the moonlight shining

on her face

writhing in pain,

and her soul fighting

for her juctice to

life that was about

to end. Worn she lay

on the ground

and scratched.

Into eternity she

was to win and

the seeds of

life were sown.

-Orkidedatter-

A brush stroke

april 11, 2019.Lesetiden er 4 minutter.

(English text after Norwegian text…)

Et penselstrøk

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 …

-Orkidedatter-

Meditation

april 10, 2019.Lesetiden er 3 minutter.

Livsmestring psykisk helse meditasjon orkidedatterart norwegian blogger

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.

Faith.

-Orkidedatter-

Orkidèdatter

Stikkord: livet

Tankeslottet; en antologi

She lights a candle…

The silence of the forest.

Up from the ashes

Meditation..

Poisonous words

Colorless

Life seeds…

A brush stroke

Meditation