Journal 2024

I wonder what the foxes were telling me?

It’s quite a good way to work through things, writing them twice: first in my own language, then reviewing them in translation. I might even share the first version with a Danish audience in the long run. Why not? It is there.

It takes a long time to write. And to share. And it feels empty. Rarely does anything vibrate back from it. It’s like sending something into the void, vulnerable and raw, energy flowing away, with no real resonance, except that I …

I love change.

I love wrapping things up.

But I do not necessarily love saying goodbye.

But I don't hate it. 

I love change. Changing. New places. New options. 

But then again: 

Do I genuinely love change?

Yes… I think I do.

But do I love it when it takes me by surprise? When it hurts, like a sting? When it’s beyond my control, unpredictable?

No.

And yes.

Life is a wild teacher.

I am here to learn. To live. To explore. To love. 

And the life I’ve chosen to live? Perhaps it just made things …

Do I even have time to journal when there are just nineteen minutes until the next podcast recording? I’ve just had a fascinating conversation with Jakob Nordby, an American with Norwegian roots who helps aspiring writers discover who they truly are. We talked about transformational journeys, and I found myself perhaps frustrated—or more accurately, having an insight—that transformation can become a bit addictive, an irritating goal—like a drug, a form of self-improvement, or a cleansing ritual.…

When the difference between what you want the world to look like and how you perceive it is big enough, there will be pain. 

There is no way around it. 

I have learned that, and I am usually very good at not being too attached to a version of reality, just leaning into truth and love and what is: Receiving what the Big Mystery is throwing at me. 

But what if The Big Mystery is talking, and the perceived reality does not align? This is a new situation for me, a new question, a problem I …

Sometimes, I feel dwarfed by life, humbled, overwhelmed, confused, run over. I can fly for a long time, lean into love, and trust the process, and then suddenly - as if out of nowhere, my inner peace seems like hit by a truck, my confidence smeared out over the pavement, and my anchor withered as if a thousand years of oxygen and salt had a go at it, but in an instant.

And then I get stuck. Where to begin? With the yoga or the laundry? With the writing or the reading? With the conversations or …

When I shop for food, I often grab a box in the veggies department instead of a basket. It's easy. When it is full, I am done. Yesterday, my husband pointed out this logo on a box sitting on my bed: MOR International.

All the Danes got it immediately, but for the rest of you, MOR means MOTHER in Danish.

So here we go. I can so relate. That is what I am now. MOR international. My mothering has changed as we have become nomadic. I feel deeply alive, I think I was allways a gypsie, a traveler, an…

We were excited about going to the next place. As always, of course, but this time, we would finally meet again with friends from the castle experience last year and our second Camino. Plus we were planning to live in the same place for six weeks. Right on the beach. Yay.

Everything worked out nicely, even though many feelings are in play at the moment, and we have to handle that, too (it is growth, and it is not always easy). Erik took the challenge of cooking whatever was left so we would all…