Crazy in love with life!!!
Feels like champagne bubbling deep in my soul.
Tears of joy, happiness, life fill my eyes.
What wonder is this?
In spite of the challenges I face
This crazy magical feeling cascades over me.
Letting go. Filling up.
Shouting. Laughing.
Crazy in love with life!!!
Month: November 2015
What can we do?
Beirut, Paris, Kenya, Africa…I suspect that this is only the beginning.
We must not give up who we are, as Europeans, Danes, Frenchman, Canadians – World citizens. We must not let our cultures be diminished. We must not be silenced. We must defend democracy and the rights that it brings and the responsibility it carries. We must not be stopped by fear. We must remember compassion, understanding, love. We must not, cannot, afford to be complacent or passive or pacifistic. The solution is, for me, shrouded in darkness but it must be found.
My thoughts and sympathy to all who have suffered loss these past days.
My question is…what can we do?
A privilege…
I am now equipped with a rather cumbersome boot on my right leg and I try to make my way using the crutches that I am clearly not an expert with, yet. I move slowly forward encumbered as I now find myself. I can just barely make my way through the glass sliding doors out into the lovely sunshine outside the doors. It is an ordinary day outside the main doors to the hospital, people coming and going, going about their business. Some look tired as they approach the main entrance. Employees, visitors, relatives, patients – all who go in have a purpose at the hospital and not all of them are pleased to be there. That is clear to see, to feel in their expressions. I try to provoke a smile from someone just about to enter, the smile was an effort.
The couple are sitting on a bench not far from the entrance. The news has not been good. In fact it must be of the worst type. They are holding hands. She leans forward to zip his jacket up just a bit higher. The wind is blowing harder now. He smiles at her and takes her hand in his. She wipes the tears off his cheek. He is the wheelchair occupant. Is it him that is ill? They love each other and have done so for many years. Man and wife? Lovers? Tough to guess. He looks away from her after kissing her hand. Her hand rests gently on his knee. She looks searchingly at his face. What is it that she is looking for? The love is unmistakable so what is it she needs? Is offering? Comfort? Pain? Sorrow? Is her intention to give him a comforting glance? It is beautiful and alive that which they are sharing and it hurts. They see no one else. They are oblivious to the world around them. They are alone there where they are. Their world that right now is full of love, indescribable pain, acceptance, respect and empathy – the one for the other.
They leave the bench. She is pushing him towards the entrance. As they approach I look at the man in the wheelchair. I see that his eyes are wet. The tears are not permitted to flow unabated at this time, but it is difficult now to keep them back. She is pushing him. It is not a burden. She is a tall woman with white hair. Observing her on the bench she looked fallen and hunched. Not in this moment. She is stoic. There is a certain pride in her approach. The future that awaits them shall not break them, her. The pain is though too much to bear.
They have moved past me now. In through the automatic doors. The wind is cold. The impression that they have left doesn’t immediately disappear. They have in fact stayed with me all day. I just can’t seem to slip them free. I am optimistic by nature. Have always been so. This couple had given up. Hope had very clearly evaporated. The place that had been held by what hope they had felt was now filled with a reluctant acceptance.
It was a difficult exchange to bear witness to – beautiful and touching. I am grateful to them for the privilege of experiencing them today.
Et privilegium…
Jeg er lidt handicappet nu med en stor støvle på højre ben og jeg forsøger at håndtere mig selv på krykker. Det går langsomt at komme frem forhindret som jeg nu er. Det går lige an at komme igennem dørene til det dejlige solskinsvejr lige udenfor glasdørene. Der er almindeligt travlhed omkring sygehuset. En del mennesker som ser lidt træt ud kommer og går ved hovedindgangen. Ansatte, besøgende, pårørende, syge – alle har en ærinde på sygehuset og de er ikke alle lige begejsret for at være der. Det er tydeligt at se, at mærke. Prøver at få et smil frem fra én som skulle ind af dørene men det kneb.
Parret sider udenfor på en bænk. Beskeden har ikke været god. Det er vist ret dårligt. De holder hinanden i hånden. Hun læner sig frem for at lyne hans jakke op lidt mere. Det blæser. Han smiler til hende og tager hendes hånd. Hun tører tårene væk fra hans kind. Han er den som er i kørestol. Er det ham som er syg? De elsker hinanden og har gjort det længe. Mand og kone? Elskere? Svært at vide. Han kigger væk efter at have kysset hendes hånd. Hånden ligger på hans knæ. Hun kigger søgende på hans ansigt. Hvad er det hun leder efter? Kærligheden er ikke til at tage fejl af så hvad er det? Trøst? Smerte? Vil hun give ham et trøstene blik? Hun kigger den anden vej. Hun har store mørke briller på. For at gemme øjene væk? Det er smukt det de deler men gøre pokkers ondt. Der er en afslutning på vej som hverken ham eller hende har løst til at se i øjene. De ser ikke andre. De sidder i en verden helt alene. En verden som lige nu er fyldt med kærlighed, smerte, accept, trøst den ene for den anden.
De forlader bænken. Hun triller ham mod indgangen. De kommer hen imod mig. Jeg ser på ham i stolen. Hans øjene er våde. Tårene får ikke helt frit løb men de kan ikke holdes tilbage længere. Hun skubber ham. Hun er en høj dame med hvidt hår. Da hun sad på bænken så hun lille og nedsunken ud. Ikke nu. Hun er stoiske. Der er en vis stolthed i hendes holdning. Det de skal igennem skal ikke knække dem, hende. Smerten er dog ikke til at bære.
De er nu gået forbi. Ind igennem de automatisk døre. Vinden er kold. Det er en vanskelig dag for nogen. Det indtryk de har efterladt forsvinder ikke lige med det samme. De er faktisk blevet hos mig hele dagen. Kan ikke lige slip dem. Jeg er optimist af natur. Har altid været det. Det par havde opgivet håbet, det var tydeligt at mærke. Håbet var givet slip på og accept havde indfundet pladsen istedet.
Det var hårdt at være vidne til…og smukt. Og jeg takker dem i mit hjerte for det privilegium det var at opleve dem i dag.
Breaking out, breaking free!
The grip is tight and strong. Bound by invisible chains, silenced, the gag cannot be seen, the joy is no more. A prisoner of my thoughts.
The chains are slightly loosened, the gag removed from my mouth, and yet my voice is not free. Sound is not yet found. The fog that enveloped my head is now a thin veil.
Holding back the tears I beckon freedom to tread near, to tear me loose. I wrestle the darkness to slip out of its grasp. The dawn is approaching. I whisper “I am here. Do you hear?”
Released at last, I spring free of the past. My voice sings with joy. My spirit soars. I look to the future with joyous expectation. Now. The present is free. I am here. Happy. 
musingsmine 