The flowers have at long last found the strength of the sun and are blooming in a magnitude of colours. The rays of the golden globe cast long slender shadows as it snakes its way ´round the trees, sneaking through the bushes, shadows dancing in the waning light. The red of the rose becomes darker, the yellow a hue deeper and the white intensifies with the very richness of the light cast in the last hours of the day.
The small inhabitants of this particular patch of grass scurry about – the last grains of supper to be collected and carefully carried back to the warmth of the underground safehouse. The scuttling of the beetles resonates through the darkening undergrowth. Their armour blue and black in the light. The blackbird sings a warning melody from the safety of the top branch of the fir tree. There is danger afoot. Softly, oh so softly it approaches. Stealthily placing one padded step oh so cautiously in front of the other he approaches quietly along with the darkness. The dark stripes in his coat melt with the shadows created by the waning rays of light. The final rays of the sun gently paint golden hues amongst the darker stripes of his fur. He is nowhere to be seen though he is everywhere.The grass shivers as he passes.
The magpie skreetches a final warning and takes flight leaving the garden´s inhabitants to their fate. The field mouse casts a wary eye over the tiny patch of grass at the entrance to his den. All appears to be in order. Although…
Something tells him that there is danger afoot. The garden community will do well to be on guard this night. He retreats to the safety of his warm home and nestles in with his mate. The threat cannot reach them where they are and they sleep secure in that knowledge.
The silent intruder sits perfectly still. He has observed the little brown mouse and in a split second calculated distance and effort. He remains seated. The mouse is spared, for now.
The gentle quiet of the cool night has descended effortlessly over the garden. The flowers have cast their shadows and now simply stand, their vibrant colours dimmed with the darkness.
The threat gently stretches and yawns. The darkness has brought the dew and the perch that previously was so warm and cosy is now cold and damp. Effortlessly the tiger in the garden lands on the soft earth and makes his way silently through the now black grassland. All observations noted for another time, he pads gently past the sleeping field mice. The now silent blackbird cocks his head eyeing the garden tiger as he treads ever so carefully over the threshold and disappears from sight.

Pleasure
In oh so many guises, sought in so many places.
Discovered in the beauty of the spring anemone displaying in a softly swaying carpet of white.
Found in the giggling laughter of the innocent child.
Shining bright in the bounding playfulness of a young four legged best friend.
Reciprocated in the unbridled passion and joy of newly found love.
Pleasure – given and taken in the enveloping arms of a familiar love, wishing to please, joyful in the moment.
Walking in the soft rain in a fresh spring green forest.
Pleasure, elusive at times, most often uncomplicated if given a chance to be found, in the moment.
This moment, or this…

Thank you for restoring my insanity my luv.  I am wallowing a little too much, a little too often, a little too much me being lost. I needed to touch base today and I followed my gut. So much laughter and love found tonight in the comfort of my home, – in the wonderful spirit of my son.

Thank you for lifting my spirit. Thank you for making me smile. Thank you for helping me find the funny side of living once again.

Thank you for restoring my insanity!

I love you – to the moon and back.

Full moon reflecting its finest light in the clouds above.
The beauty of the moon, and you, take my breath away. I write by the light of the flickering flame of a single candle. The light is soft and warm. It soothes my heart and my spirit. I think of you.
Your smile. Your eyes crinkle in the corner when you laugh. Laugh more.
I yearn for your company, to feel you beside me, to have your arms around me, to have your warmth near, me.
My heart beats faster. My body aches. For you. Your kiss.
My soul wants – you.
Tread carefully, dear heart, with abandon.
Enjoy. Live life. Be here.
Love.

Ingolfs Kaffebar.
Masser af lyde og liv.
Dufte af kaffe og aftenens retter.
Kaffen er drukket.
Pausen er brugt.
Kulden og aftensmørket kalder.
Der kommer lys i vinduerne overfor.
Freden er kommet igen.
Refleksioner.
Kalenderen starter på ny.
Aftalerne i sørt begynder at fylde i de hvide kasser for dagene.
Weekend arrangement i Jylland. Teater. Koncert. Spejder weekend.
Koncert. Venner. Diamant bryllup i foråret.
Livets fremtid i planlægning.
Kærligheden.
Der er ro i maven.
Nuet er god. Hårdt. Udfordrende.
Er i det. Kan være i det.
Lykkelig trods det som er svært.
Hverdagen er nu. Alt er anderledes.
Smiler.
Må videre…

Juleshopping. Inspiration søges i en god cappuccino og en citron muffin. Jeg sidder i den uvante situation at være total blank. Mon ikke kaffen kan kickstart hjernen?

Det myldrer med folk – børn på udflugt for at opleve juleshow, folk som er begyndt deres juleferie og slæntre en tur, folk som mig lidt i vildrede mht at finde på den helt perfekte gave til kære venner og familie.

Synes ikke rigtigt at kaffen rykker på de få fungerende brikker. Der er nok ikke andet for end at komme ud og rode lidt rundt i butikkerne. Jeg må tage modet til mig.

Hvad er egentlig den perfekte gave? Det er til tider vanskeligt at svare på. Det er vel når ens hjerte siger med den største overbevisning – ja det bliver de glad for. Derefter giver man slip. Det bedste er blevet købt, indenfor de rammer der er gældende, og så må man give gaven med kærlighed og glæde.

Julen er en svær scene at danse rundt på. Der er fortid med minder. Nutid med livets udfordringer. Fremtid med drømme og ønsker for at leve evig lykkelig. Jeg tror at jeg nyder det bedst ved at husk at jeg er her nu. Jeg kan kun være her, nu. I lige dette øjeblik. Lykken findes kun her, nu. Lykken er i mig, her, nu. Lykkelig med de udfordringer livet kaster min vej. Lykkelig med de skønne mennesker der er i mit liv. Lykkelig selv med den usikkerhed der findes. Det kan være en rutchebane tur men andet vil være kedeligt.

Pyrus er kommet på scenen ved det smukke lysene træ. Det var ikke med i planen men sådan kan det være nogen gange. Og lige denne gang bringer det smil og grin hos både store og små. Ungerne råber “risengrød”… Hvad ellers? Nåh ja, det er jul.

Where do I go to child of mine
When I disappear from your heart?
The pain is unbearable. I am desperate. Dying.
The flames lick at the very center of my being.
The destruction burns deeply and my wounds bleed furiously.

My beautiful gentle child.
I loved you sight unseen.
My arms enveloped your tiny frame.
I sat at your side while you slept.
I walked with your hand ensconced in mine.
I held you close, a comfort as the tears coursed down your cheeks.
Your love is now hidden amid the petty stones tossed into your heart.
My heart cries out for you.
My beautiful gentle child.

Your words? Your thoughts? I choose not to believe.
Though your tongue splinters the icy air as you utter the words.
Your glance so cold I shiver.
What now?
I am lost, aimlessly stumbling amidst my dreams.
Following paths that lead to emptiness.
I will press on, survive and live my life – shattered heart in hand.
Where do I go to daughter of mine
When your love runs cold and I fade from your heart?
Forever within reach my lovely child. Always, I am here.

I am sitting on my bed.
It is time to sleep. Sleep?? I am out of my mind!
The thoughts are running, jumbled, colliding, all mixed up in my head.
What have I done? Why did I write those words? What was I thinking? Was I thinking? Have I fucked everything up? I am so stupid! Why could I not just leave well enough alone? Why do I let the child in me reign? UGH!!!!!!!!!! ARGH!!!!!
Breathe I tell myself. Hold tight. Don’t jump off the deep end. Breathe.
PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!!!!

We live in a world of constant contact. I am not so sure that this is healthy. In fact, looking at my own reactions today, I am convinced that it can be extremely unhealthy for those of us that have sensitive natures and are prone to anxiety.
We have become used to receiving responses to questions within minutes. Conversations that last all day. We never say goodbye. The sentence is just left hanging in messenger without an end. Questions asked but never answered. Plans half made, never confirmed. For those of us with sensitive minds and sensitive hearts this is devastating. What have I said wrong? Can this be interpreted another way than intended? Why is there no response? Why? What did she mean by that? Have I trod on his feelings? Have I assumed too much? Could I have said it another way to make it perfectly clear? Messages read and reread and read once more, analyzed to the last dot. What have I said wrong since no response is forthcoming? And where do I take it from here? I am left powerless and helpless.

It is difficult to express feelings on messenger and with all due respect probably shouldn’t be done. Oh don’t get me wrong – the expression of them is actually easy enough, the words can write themselves if you so wish. But, but, but…how are they understood? Is the twinkle in your eye seen as you express your displeasure? Is the mild anger voiced, heard as just that? Is the love glimpsed behind the letters? I daresay the wording must be near perfect in order not to be misunderstood.

A telephone call is your voice. The nuances are there to be heard. If not quite understood, they can be discussed. Questions can be raised. Meanings clarified. A face to face over a cup of coffee so much better. The temperature of a conversation can be more easily measured when the particpants are actively involved which they usually are in a “live” conversation. Have we given up on the art of conversing? No. I don’t believe so but the written quick messaging is the favourite method of communicating and I fear that many things can be missed or misinterpreted.

Why my anxiety? I attempted to have a conversation with someone who, for one reason or another, did not participate in the conversation. It was very one sided. I attempted to explain something personal – let me reiterate not smart via messenger and the adult in me should have stepped in but alas neglected to do so – and I still do not know how I was received since I got no response. Was my attempt at an explanation understood as it was meant? Welcome anxiety response level 6. I fully appreciate and understand that there can be an ocean of reasons for the lack of desire to participate but none was communicated. And I am left speculating, feeling vulnerable, with a heart full of love and a head filled with doubt.

Lying in my bed, the duvet lies loose over my body and only half covers my legs. The cumbersome boot keeps my right foot warm. I lie awake as the many thoughts pass through my mind behind my tired eyes. I look through my window the blinds deliberately left open, so that I might gaze at the moon, full and mellow. The blinds and the moon are in cahoots as they cast shadows on the wall. Stripes. The light of the moon is not so sharp but warm and glowing. It brings hope. It brings warmth somehow with its special hue. My window is open wide. The neighbour’s cat is having a very late chat with a compadre further down the row of houses. Perhaps discussing the news of the world or simply the status of the local birds’ nests. Its hard to tell by their tone what they are jabbering on about.
Time passes…slowly.
The night progresses in its own tempo.
The night sky creeps off to another corner of the world and morning makes its entrance.
Another day …
My thoughts are mixed up and jumbled.
The alarm chimes.
Voices outside on their way to school.
Summer holidays start in a days time. Excitement in the air.
We have a witch or two to burn tonight. Sankt Hans..

The Boogie Man is real? What are we afraid of? He is but a figment of our imagination. An underdone bit of something or other. Is he just that? The Boogie Man is dark, foreboding, menacing, joy stealing, laughter smothering. Nightmares are the stuff of the Boogie Man.

Fear. It can be so real. It takes shape. It becomes a knot in your stomach. A dark cloud over your head, in your heart. The Boogie Man. Snatching your joy and interfering with your fun.

Fear. Squeezes the very seed of life out of you. Fear makes you anxious. Fear makes you stop on your path. Fear steals your courage. Fear etches out your very soul. Fear paralyzes. The darkness becomes all encompassing once it has gained a foothold in the deepest crevices of your mind. It twists and disguises any joyous inkling. What if it isn’t good enough? What if no one likes you? What if you don’t have what it takes? What if he doesn’t love you? What if your best just isn’t enough? What if no one respects you? What if no light ever delves into your thoughts ever again? What if the happy core of your being, the very center of you becomes black? Loses hope? WHAT IF??? What if the world stops turning??? WHAT IF WE RUN OUT OF COFFEE??

It takes but one. One who believes. One who defies the masses. Calls the bluff. Shouts out that the Boogie Man is just a bad dream. One thought, a minuscule thread in the black quagmire, will suffice. The thought whispers defiantly. Face the fear. Confront the what ifs. Take it on and own it. Take responsibility to wrestle it to a manageable proportion. Bit by gnawing bit, chew it, mangle it, spit it out. Stand face to face with the frustration. Stand face to face with the hurt. Stand face to face with the injury. Stand face to face – with yourself. Stand. Don’t run. The fear will use every trick in the book. Accept it. Work with it. Use it. Feel it. Know it and be strong with the knowledge gained.

Find your center. Discover your core. The magic that you believe in. Play. Have fun. Chance love. Admit and accept your vulnerability. Plunge in. Love and cherish yourself. Appreciate – you! All of you. The crazy juicy bits. The savage, beasty bits. The joyous, lighthearted, dance around the room in your pj’s bits. The down and dirty no one is ever to know this bits. Accept, honour and respect all of you. Perfect imperfection. Rejoice! The boogie man may come knocking on the door occasionally and you may invite him in. But know that he fools you no more and you quickly show him the door.