tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57563221579168304252024-03-14T08:29:24.244-07:00Sound of LifeHaraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-26562459915888322682018-11-21T14:30:00.001-08:002018-11-21T14:30:48.795-08:00A Long Time Ago<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JltdxogBQAflJaBaJANERJ5LofD8MRP78wR5Pm0h1sczoTeE5akZoloH8NfpmA8Oz-C5kxhDelOfbU9VhNpBCsfWOB86c9SZHF_fdEZuAmKw0M7LoOUyykb2grHhFGduDBb1HRUrsGE/s1600/Trees+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JltdxogBQAflJaBaJANERJ5LofD8MRP78wR5Pm0h1sczoTeE5akZoloH8NfpmA8Oz-C5kxhDelOfbU9VhNpBCsfWOB86c9SZHF_fdEZuAmKw0M7LoOUyykb2grHhFGduDBb1HRUrsGE/s320/Trees+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">Memories of ancient Beleriand.</span></span></div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-17293644258769248302018-11-21T14:27:00.001-08:002018-11-21T14:27:32.383-08:00Trees<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">Shadows of daylight,</span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"> brightness of winter.</span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"> Open spaces,</span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"> and the land that lays hinter.</span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"> <span class="text_exposed_show"></span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Has time stood still,</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> or did I travel back?</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Here were my steps,</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> there my old track.</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> </span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Joy of momentum,</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> song of the times.</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> The clock never moved,</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> behind the tree-line.</span></span></span><br /><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"></span></span></span></div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-49492634854542446722016-06-13T12:27:00.000-07:002016-06-13T12:28:43.695-07:00 Under Age 3Some years ago I wrote two posts about getting asked for an ID when I bought wine in the UK (<a href="http://steepandfast.blogspot.no/2009/07/under-age.html">Under Age</a> & <a href="http://steepandfast.blogspot.no/2009/08/under-age-2.html">Under Age 2</a>). I thought it probably wouldn't happen again for another 500 years. But then, when you least expect it, the world has something unforeseen up its sleeve for you!<br />
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I was at the shop buying some essentials—plus a can of excellent Swedish pear cider. The lady behind the counter asked "can I see your ID, please?" Let's just halt there for a moment shall we?<br />
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So, my beard have started to get some gray patches (I know, me and Clooney). I had bent my head down to pick something up and she repeated the question as I came back up.<br />
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Me (sticking my chin forward and pointing with the index-finger):<br />
"See? My beard has gray patches!"<br />
Her: "Yes, but I'd like to see your ID please."<br />
Me: "For the soap or the cider?"<br />
Fredrik: (Starts laughing!)<br />
Her (a little bewildered): "That!" (points to the cider.)<br />
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I showed her the ID.<br />
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Really, I'm up for a good compliment any day, but in reality's highborn name! Some other day perhaps? -when I have a clean shave and a colourful base-ball cap? Mom thought it was hilarious though, so at least the story came to serve some form of higher purpose! :-)Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0Trondheim, Norway63.4305149 10.3950528000000363.3168319 10.07232930000003 63.5441979 10.717776300000031tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-44477009068170053312016-01-01T17:57:00.000-08:002016-01-01T17:58:23.934-08:00Natalie Cole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Rewind the clock back with me to the summer of 1991 or 92, and a
raging torrent of sound came out of the little radio in my granddad’s
dusty workshop in Northern Norway. It would play-and-play-and-play
inside my head until I finally got the record. The track was ‘Paper
Moon.’<br />
<br />
The first full price CD I bought as was ‘Unforgettable,’ I
played and sung along to it constantly! Natalie Cole has made her way
through R'n B, Pop, Jazz and Classical Crossover and she was
instrumental <span class="text_exposed_show">in shaping the direction my
early love for Jazz took. I love her work with José Carreras, Plácido
Domingo and orchestra; and the the fantastic duets with her late father,
through wonders of technology. Over the last decade my strongest memory
of her is her swinging away with Diana Krall to a lush big-band. Her
distinct voice has throughout her career been employed with the greatest
possible versatility!</span><br />
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25
years after its release, ‘Unforgettable’ still stands as one of the most
complete and memorable jazz-albums I have ever bought. I sang her music
and tried to follow her amazing phrases; the sound of the big-band
played relentlessly in my head, with or without my consent—day and
night, and sometimes kept me from sleeping; and needless to say, I was
12 and had a crush on her!<br />
<br />
I sometimes thought of telling her the
story of my granddad’s workshop if I ever got to meet her. Sadly, I
have run out of time! The beautiful Natalie Cole has left us at age 65 —
early, like her father. I’ve attached a picture of the album-cover so
you too can get a crush on her!<br />
<br />
I hope I get to tell her that story one day.</div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-70398925850214450882015-12-04T12:39:00.000-08:002015-12-04T12:39:19.932-08:00Scott WeilandScott Weiland, you poor battered soul! We will miss the lyrical brutality of your beautiful voice! You made even dreadful memories sound nostalgic! We'll let your records cry for us and hope that your voice will turn horror to tears of joy, one final time... You will be missed!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-39108792099009035872015-08-15T02:37:00.001-07:002015-08-15T02:40:53.354-07:00Intelligence<style>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We treasure
the sexy,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">it's even
sneaking into mainstream corporate language today</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">(to my
annoyance)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We cherish
kindness,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">for good
reasons</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We respect
the hard working,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">and we
should, but to what aims are we working?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We cherish
beauty,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">even though
it will fade</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The only
beauty that transcends our lifespan is mountains, forests, sunshine, God and
His presence</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We amaze at
fame,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">and
question too little what brought it about</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We once
respected loyalty,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">do we
still?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We crave self-fulfilment,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">and leave a
trail of broken hearts</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">***</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
sexy without intelligence?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
kindness without the stability of commitment?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
hard work without both intelligence and commitment?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
beauty without long-term admiration for a soul, it’s just a fleeting moment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
fame without substance, character and fidelity?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
respect without commitment to principle or person?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is
self-fulfilment with regrets and a life span shorter than your own?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">***</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Intelligence
is underrated</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Long term
planning and commitment is undervalued</span></div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-86752245398796585382015-07-31T16:39:00.004-07:002015-08-03T15:37:14.896-07:00An Event<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We have visitors from the North. Mom's sister is here with a friend and they'll be travelling down South to see an old aunt of theirs in a couple of days. The aunt </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">originally came from the North. </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Last night they were on the phone with her. Northern humour is darker. After years of being made fun of by more densely populated parts of the country, a certain hostile humor has developed. The old aunt had exclaimed that she was looking forward to meeting "sensible North Norwegians again! It will truly be an event!" It was well received by much laughter around the house.</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
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I was up late last night and the house was in full motion by the time I joined the ranks of the awoken this morning. To my pleasant surprise, my sister was on a visit. Her and Mom was stood talking in the kitchen. I had left a newly acquired glass-shelf for a book-case in the library, on the kitchen bench. It had a sticker on it and I rubbed it in dish-washing soap last night to get ridd of it. Now I got to work on it. After scraping and washing I held the shelf under warm running water. I looked around... Then I said to Sis: "Could you get me a..." (I didn't get any further) "Sure!" she said, and got a kitchen towel out of a drawer for me. How nice! I haven't had someone finish my sentence in a long time. It's probably one of the things on this planet I enjoy the most! How nice to have "a sensible brain around again! No trivias, and a deeper sense of understanding! It was truly an event!"</div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-43254982920699321452015-02-24T14:45:00.000-08:002015-02-24T14:45:22.321-08:00There With MeMelancholy sadness,<br />lingers over the distance;<br />in time,<br />and in lines on the map.<br /><br />Were we found,<br />on the same mission?<br />yours or mine?<br />and the lines drew your face across my mind.<br /><br />Whenever it's day,<br />or in it's counterpart at night;<br />you and me,<br />one on the mountain and one by the sea.<br /><br />Eternity - Love Lost Is Found!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpTo53pMkhvRbFf_bZzfJWxj5Ecg8LC9AWEj8u26KdxB3_-JTwc6waVF8wwgDIDO_lxPzU2ARaPVkWJNqAeJQIBoQOw8yAiFLCuLSbMlHBLOrKRAev3PR-z-CwUxSmTEVY0RpVEtn7nA/s1600/Caribbean-Vacations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpTo53pMkhvRbFf_bZzfJWxj5Ecg8LC9AWEj8u26KdxB3_-JTwc6waVF8wwgDIDO_lxPzU2ARaPVkWJNqAeJQIBoQOw8yAiFLCuLSbMlHBLOrKRAev3PR-z-CwUxSmTEVY0RpVEtn7nA/s1600/Caribbean-Vacations.jpg" height="182" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://english.colorado.edu/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Caribbean-Vacations.jpg">(Photo credit)</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-67715376831285626342014-11-29T16:48:00.000-08:002014-11-29T16:48:52.697-08:00Macro Economics, Aurora & Deer
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I spent all
night in the dungeons of the University chasing money through macro-economic
models and pouring over Keynes-models. The clock struck midnight and I was
afraid of getting caught in the burglary-alarm. Out on the car-park the air was
crisp and cold. Since campus is right next to the woods and I had been inside
for hours it was time for a walk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">An
otherwise gung-ho track across the fields and into the woods, but the ground is
frozen now so the walk is quite smooth. At the edge of the field the reeds have
frozen and the ice-crystals made high-pitch whistely bell sounds, when the wind
brushed through them. Several times it made me turn my head around to see if
anyone, or anything, was following me. I didn’t figure out what it was till I
was almost back at the car.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">On the last
leg I came down a hill and out of a small valley. The road was lit in front but
I chose the big dark plane at the side instead. The fields are all walkable
after the harvest, and especially after they freeze. The Northern Lights were spreading
themselves across the sky up above. I turned the torch on to see where I was
stepping. After a while, distant reflections of the torch-light appeared in my
peripheral vision. I gave it no further thought until the reflections started
moving about. What?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I pointed
the torch at the reflections. They were still there, but weren’t moving any
more. Ah! All of them were in pairs. I couldn’t see their bodies, but knew I
had the company of a group of deer. When they ran off they became ‘visible’ as
the dark shadows they looked like were moving instead of standing still. Toward
the woods they went, but I couldn’t see them entering, and think they were
still somewhere in the field. Further down there were more but I tried not to
disturb them too much this time. After all, I wouldn’t want to hang in a field
with my friends under the Aurora and be scared off by some dark creature carrying
freaky portable starlight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Far away
somewhere in my mind I could hear <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjUNQx0yMe0">TNT playing ‘Northern Lights.’</a></span></div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0Norway60.47202399999999 8.4689459999999646.059280999999991 -32.839648000000039 74.884767 49.777539999999959tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-18703128253646367042014-08-25T15:25:00.000-07:002014-08-26T00:46:04.572-07:00Kipling, Harvey, Davis et al.The books I placed upon the table,<br />
by my bed with good intentions;<br />
They landed there some days ago,<br />
before events brought interventions.<br />
<br />
Boardroom meetings, exponential functions,<br />
filled the world so time was stretched;<br />
Now I see your youthful faces,<br />
like faded drawings a century since sketched.<br />
<br />
Good night!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-2137647009103994642014-03-24T09:22:00.000-07:002014-03-24T09:24:32.619-07:00Radio Noise<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is the strangest thing:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />People sitting and eating together by a table. On the radio someone are talking about a matter that don't concern the people who are eating. Still, the radio is set louder than their own voices would go if they spoke. The diners are quiet, the radio is loud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Why not turn it off? Dare to be quiet together or speak about something interesting?</span>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-4344191646475391152013-03-06T14:33:00.000-08:002013-03-06T14:47:51.934-08:00On Marriage—A series of Observations<style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">On Marriage</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">—A series of Observations—</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This has
been brewing for a long while! What is it? An exciting article for Vogue or GQ?
Juicy private confessions? Nope, then you’re looking for a glossy periodical
from WHS! These are some of my convictions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">First—I’m a
dyslectic! I just built a library.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It contains
120 years of my family’s books and a lot of my own stuff. It takes up a whole
room in the house that Harald Haltvik bought in 1930. Some of his books are also
there. Three generations later and my signature is exactly like his—same name,
same pencil strokes! (I never knew until I opened the cover of one of his books!)
How did I get the space to ‘waste’ on a library? Because of marriage—sis left
her old girl’s room and got a husband! We had a room to spare! Suddenly these
other married people’s books collected for over a century got a proper place to
live. My babies? Maybe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Why this topic?
Because I’m dyslectic! I recently found myself in a bookshop—again! (I often
do.) I love stories and knowledge, and I love books. As you may have gathered,
I don’t read very fast, but I read quite a bit. More crucially, I remember!
When I was a kid I was dubbed the class’ “sticky brain.” So, now I was at a
book sale.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A lot of
audiobooks were reduced and there was a further 50% discount on the
sales-price. Double sale! You can say I “robbed the shop…” I used to produce
audiobooks for a very distinguished production-studio, but I never really spent
much time listening to them. Now the time had come!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The first
day of audiobook listening I went on a 19 year long journey with Odysseus
through the Mediterranean. Subsequently I started on ‘Pride and Prejudice.’ Sis
had left a couple of Jane Austen books around the house when she moved out and
I had read a bit in ‘Mansfield Park.’ To my surprise there was plenty of scope
for a masculine angle in the stories. Hence, I decided that Austen’s sharp and
sometimes sarcastic observations were male-friendly (unlike a large number of monstrous
period dramas with annoying women in them!) Much can be said about the various textures
of storytelling in Austen’s books, but I’ll leave that for another time. Here,
we’re on about marriage. Some of the characters spend all their time thinking
and talking about marriage but very little time nurturing their own. Mrs.
Bennett is such a character and Mr. Bennett who is very different isn’t much
better in his own way. It has been annoying me for days now as I have driven
around listening to the story. The only rest for my head I have found in Mr.
Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth Bennet’s sarcastic but occasionally accurate
observations on the world around them. And I can’t help but think that the
author—who have given her own name to the older sister Jane, is really hiding
behind the sharp wits of Ms. Elzabeth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I have been
planning to write this for about three years. The book gave me the push. Bring
on the Theology!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Who Married People Are</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">God made
man first. Adam was his name for he was taken from the soil (Hebrew language,
go figure). Then God gave Adam a number of tasks on the earth and Adam carried
them out. Adam was to name all the animals and tend to the garden—but really,
he was to name a whole lot more than just animals! To get to know every species
and every part of the garden he’d have to climb trees, dig in the soil and turn
every rock. He would have to make words for “hungry,” “tired,” “climb,” “digging,”
“eating” and a whole lot of other verbs. Bill Johnson says that there’s one
name of God that is not mentioned in the Bible. ‘Jehova Sneaky!’ God gave Adam
some very clearly defined tasks, but his responsibilities would take him places
that weren’t stated in the initial “contract.” The Bible says that God delights
in mankind finding hidden truths and revelations in His creation. God knows
where there’s gold in the ground, He knows where there are awesome wild
strawberries!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">By the time
Adam had gotten on top of things in the garden he fully mastered his
environment, he had developed accurate terms to describe his surroundings and
verbal ways of expressing his emotions. He was fulfilling his God-given
purpose. Note that he has to come to this stage before ‘Jehova Sneaky’ again
kicks in and says something in the order of: “Lets examine everything I have
made to see if there’s a suitable partner for you!” –as if God Himself didn’t
know what He had created! It’s an evaluation-assignment from Adam’s employer:
understand your own place in the system I have created! When the evaluation was
done they concluded that there are no suitable partner for Adam. ‘Jehova
Sneaky’ already knew. Adam learned something valuable by experience because God
let him figure out. Adam now stood there in the garden, at the top of his game
and having carried out everything God has told him to do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">God has
only blown his spirit into the nostrils of one man and will never do this
again—He didn’t repeat it for the woman for they have part in the same spirit
and He won’t do it for another man or woman in another generation to come.
Mankind was born and Adam at the time embodied it all! All! Everything you and
I are part of, every potential in us and every likeness to God in us who are
created in his image was established in mankind from the dawn of creation.
Standing alone in the garden for the last time, Adam is ALL of mankind and
embodies ALL of mankind! New genes, new spirit is not given to the woman who is
to be made. It has already been given. God then does the incredible! He makes
the man fall asleep and opens him up just to take things he has put into him
out of him. Adam will never get these things back! Mental faculties of the soul
are lost from him forever! —and God closed him up again. When Adam wakes up he
is not “ALL of mankind” any more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Adam is now
half of mankind and many of his personality-traits inherited from God has been
put into another creature. There’s no new Spirit being blown into nostrils. To
cut a long story short, God instructs them that they are created “man and woman”
and later on it says that they are “one flesh.” Even in the traditional
Lutheran background that I come from those words make old pensioners put on a
smile and a restrained laughter in weddings. Old couples sit there in their
grandkids’ weddings and at the words “one flesh” their faces read something
like: “Dang right preacher, I kno what ya’ talking ‘bout! Just wait till later tonight
kids! Hehehe!” Ok, so there are plenty of jokes that can be made! But we’re
forgetting the most important fact:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">God took some
ribs and a set of faculties from His own image out of Adam. And then He reunites
them in ONE new creature. Fundamentally, that’s what marriage is!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Who’s are
the tasks that God bestowed on Adam from the beginning now? Adam’s alone? Where
were Eve’s ribs when Adam was commissioned to do these tasks? The original
tasks of Adam can now only be completed by the new creature—the married couple!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There are
plenty of purposes you should fulfil while still bumping around in the garden alone
(some of us are still there because we belong there longer than others—it’s
serious and not to be mocked!). There is a ridiculous notion in many churches
that you’re not a complete young adult until you’re married! What happened? Is
being a daughter, son, brother or sister now second rank? Jesus is a ‘son!’
–nuff said! But when you cross the line into the realms of marital union,
there’s no turning back and there are new callings waiting on you! ‘Jehova
Sneaky’ does surgery on you when He stitches your ribs together with someone
else. A spiritual link is established. God reveals this when He says "What
god has joined together let no man separate." They are “joined.” It’s not
constant physical and they don’t think about each other all the time (soul), so
we’re left with the last (or first) realm—they’re joined constantly in spirit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">For this
reason we need spiritual revelation on what marriage is, cause it says that
“the Word of God is sharper than a double edged sword” and that it splits the
soul and the spirit asunder. Due to lack of knowledge we often think that what
happens in our soul and emotions is spiritual. It carries spiritual
significance, but the two must not be confused. God’s Word testifies itself
that it is two different realms. We need God’s Word and revelation to
distinguish between them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Mrs.
Bennett will not enter into her God-given destiny as long as she thinks that
she has a purpose without Mr. Bennett that she is tied to. Mr. Bennett will not
enter into his full God-given purpose as long as he stays passive and does not
arise to takes charge and makes an effort to get his head around his wife’s
feelings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">He’s all
brain, she’s all emotion. One body, two faculties. Both reflecting the image of
God. Both lost from that image without their union.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A man seeks
to understand, a woman seeks to be understood. Who’s in the image of God? God
understands how we feel (Jesus literally went through hell for us!) and He
wants us to understand Him in return! See any similarities? He contains both
view-points! That’s why ‘Jehova Sneaky’ still sends young men into the
“gardens” of their days (family, society, the army, education, work or the
mountains), to learn how to take the control they need to aim for God’s greater
purpose with their lives and to learn how to express themselves when the day
comes that they need to understand how their long lost ribs once made them able
to think—and the two shall become one. One flesh not just for the wedding-bed,
but most of all for the union of the two creatures to embody ALL of mankind! We
leave nothing of value on this earth from pure self-realisation without
substantial self-sacrifice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This is
what I believe to be the contract between man and woman:</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Man
is the head of the family. He is to set direction and rise as a masculine
figure. He is to provide, pursue romantically, bring protection and be the head
priest of the family.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The
woman, when getting married, is hooking on to someone else’s headship. It once
was meant to be her father, it now is her husband. When God says in Genesis
that He wants to make a “helper” for the man, the Hebrew word that is used
means exactly that: “helper!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Both needs
to regard the family vision higher than their individual visions. He has the
highest authority; she is to be loved unconditionally.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A lot of
modern philosophies uphold that this is a better deal for the man than the
woman, not considering what the scripture bestows on the man’s shoulders. Paul
charges the man to love his wife like “Christ loved the Church”—that means to
the point of his own scorn, torture and painful death if need be! It also means
to wrestle with the devil in a way that can only be won by the power of God in
his life! When Christ was put in prison, flogged, beaten, the justice system is
betraying him and he finally is put to death in a torturous multiple hour state
between a very painful life on earth and a waiting hell—that’s what Paul means
when he states the extent men should love their wives to. Someone still thinks
Adam got the easy part of the bargain? No, I think they’re both in pretty deep!
None of us can manage a hundred percent. That’s why we need forgiveness in
relationships, exemplified by the forgiveness given by Christ.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Where To Go From Here?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A great
couple that are doing marriage counselling was giving their advices on God TV
about a year ago. They said that a lot of couples that comes to them for
marriage counselling sit down on their sofa and looks at each other through a
filter of problems. The first thing they make them do is to envision ‘the
problem’ sitting on the table in front of them. They are now sitting side by
side with no obstacles between them but a challenge ahead of them to be handled
together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m
reminded of a film Bruce Willis did about a decade ago. I can’t remember what
it was called and it probably wasn’t all that good, but one little part of it
was out of this world amazing. The lead character and his wife had just split
up and decided to give it one more go. So they went for a date like they once
did before they got married. They meet in a bar and sit down for a drink.
Conversation starts and she asks: “When was the first time you felt like you
couldn’t make it?” A pause follows as he thinks. Calmly he replies “The first time
I didn’t tell you about it!” No sparks comes across the screen, the bar they’ve
chose doesn’t get any less un-charming (no offense to the bar-keeper!) and
nothing appears to be changing around them. But the whole film changes entirely
from there! —and so does their marriage! It’s the first stone in the cobbled
street towards reconciliation. There are no big emotional outbursts, but the
atmosphere is once again filled with trust. Trust is probably the most
important ingredient in any relationship. I have looked around, but haven’t
found anything more important yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A few years
ago our Church in Leeds got a visit from the amazing Mr. Mal Fletcher. It was one
of the messages that I really remember and I’ve listened through the tape a
number of times. He talks about the passage in the Bible where it says “without
a vision the people parish!” –but he goes much deeper! He has researched all
the Hebrew words in the original texts and finds that it says more something
like: “without a divinely provided redemptive revelation of God, people live
wasted and unfruitful lives.” When the ribs of the original creation is
re-united (marriage), the “one” creation needs to find “one” vision. Without a
divinely provided redemptive vision of marriage common direction is wasted and
subsequently bear no fruit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I grew up together
with my little Sis. She had the majority of male friends, I had the majority of
female ones. None of us were in relationships and none of us went looking for
it neither. We talked about why we had the friendship circles that we had and
came up with several answers, but concluded that the main reason was that we
had grown up with each other. Sis was used to an older boy around in me and I
was used to a younger girl in her. The older we got, the closer friends we
became and the central friendship in our lives became the two of us. Perhaps
that’s why none of us were in a hurry to get into any relationship. Sis’
friendship-circle has changed after she got married and there’s another central
relationship in her life. That’s a natural development.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I have a
friend that I used to hang with a lot some years back. A lot of people thought
we were a couple but we were not. She spoke with me about the boys she were
dating and I usually thought girls who tried to be more than sisters were in
the way of some very attractive mountains! One Spring she changed. It wasn’t all
that fun to hang with her anymore and in spite of being one of the most flowery
personalities I knew she suddenly felt kinda… boring! My mind came to a point
where I thought: “this is where people sometimes separate down different roads or
deliberately spend less time together.” I thought about it for a while and found
it to be a faithless thought! —Kind of ashamed to even have thought the
thought! I was aware that there’s an unwritten contract that arises between
people when you both let each other very close and I found that this sort of
contract was not to be broken. I remember thinking something down the line of:
“I don’t care how boring she’ll get, I’ll stick with all my promises to her.”
She stayed the same and only my determination changed my feelings (it does
indeed!). Summer came and to my partial shame I discovered that my subconscious
over-time working, fast-paced, people-analysing brain that usually serves me loads
of information had missed out on something important! Exams were over, she got
to sleep longer nights, eat more exciting food and spend more time out in the
sun. The exam stress was gone and she returned back to normal, if not even
better! It was one of the most powerful lessons I have ever had in sticking to decisions!
It has led me to believe that love between people can’t die, because there’ll
always be something left of what you initially got attracted to. But it may be
obscured by events in life, suppressed for a while by circumstances or even
suppressed by myself. There are no things that lets people out of such a
obscured or suppressed state more than someone to come along and invest or
re-invest faith in them!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In mountain
leadership the power of sticking to one decision is a powerful principle. If
you get lost and change your mind about direction at every obstacle or every
day, you’re likely to start making circles or ending up in the middle of
nowhere. If you take time to decide on a bearing and stick to it you’ll
eventually get to a valley, a sea, a settlement or a river that leads to a
people. Chances of surviving improves radically, but you might have to
negotiate a lot of difficult terrain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Odysseus
sailed, swam and tumbled through the oceans with strong spiritual powers bent
on opposing him, but he made it home after 19 years! His wife held back many
powerful attempts to get her re-married and set a new direction for her life.
Through all Odysseus’ strife she was the leading light that was always calling
him home and that helped him stay out of temptation—pursuing both the direction
and romance they shared through all sorts of mortal danger. All his men died on
the journey, and alone he eventually made it home to Ithaca. It re-positioned his
family’s fading grasp on the throne for the next generation and brought peace
to the generation that was passing and had served before him. It blessed the
entire family. Sounds like the perfect fairy-tale, but when you do it for 19
years straight it takes on the shape of hard, strenuous work. It was well
rewarded. Very late and very joyfully!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Two spirits,
human faculties, feelings and intellectual choices are being brought together
through the reuniting of the ribs. Only then you can fulfil all of the initial
callings of ALL of humanity in the image of God—as embodied in one man(kind)—as
later embodied in husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett of Longbourn Estate
should put the problems in front of them on the table and not between themselves.
They have common challenges to be solved together. God wants your marriage and
the devil wants your marriage. Jane and Bingly, Elizabeth and Darcy seems to
get it—in the end! Ironically, after a bumpy start!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Mankind is
at one level only meant to be One Creature—One image of One God—One Bride of
Christ! Pure, Holy and Undivided. Ribs reunited in “One Flesh” as the first man
alone was One perfect image of One Holy God—containing all of Mankind to come.</span></div>
Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-89883532188926354902012-05-05T14:22:00.000-07:002012-05-05T14:27:06.865-07:00The Detroit I See<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">New music with a cause!</span><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New hope!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New businesses!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No racial divides!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No racial divides!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I said; no racial divides!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Communities with both colors; with all colors!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Education!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Technological innovation that blows the old worlds mind!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Strong communities!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Music and arts flourishing!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Money on new hands!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Money on new hands!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A strong commitment to the city in people's hearts!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New Churches!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">More Churches!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No Churches with hollow messages!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No Churches that permits divides!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pure, holy, crazy expansive Christ centered, Holy Ghost Arsonist, Redemptive vision bringing, hope-building, racially mixed, Heavenly Ordained and Appointed 'Bridges' between the Saviour of Detroit and His People!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Universities!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New frontiers of knowledge!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">People migrating in to learn!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Businesses migrating in to benefit!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Effective governance!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No-procrastination governance!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A new Motown, however it sounds!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A safe city!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A great place to bring up kids!</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No more drugs!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I said, no more drugs!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A city to teach the world how to un-drugify this world!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Diverse businesses!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New industries!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A city that makes the world dance!</span></span></div>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-48314425546809987092012-02-19T12:59:00.000-08:002012-02-19T12:59:26.240-08:00At the BaseYWAM…! Where else does a bunch of tweens dance their harts out to to
LMFAO's "Sexy and I know it" barefoot in the snow outside the living
room where there's a Hawaii party on? -and all are sold out for Jesus
Christ, that's why they're there in the first place! Sexy? Yeah, I know
it! ;xHaraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-13724422819932553572011-12-22T13:53:00.000-08:002012-01-05T07:39:20.218-08:00Italian Beer, Memories and MusicWent to town to pick up the last Christmas gift today. Ran into so many familiar faces that it was like a Christmas party on its own. Some radio station played Coldplay’s “Fix you” yesterday. I don’t have the record, didn’t wanna go online to get the track but wanted to listen to them… so I found an old copy of “Parachutes” instead. It had to be that record or Norwegian Madrugada. Man, it brought a feeling I hadn’t had for ten years! In the evening I was out shopping for another Christmas gift when I suddenly remembered that I should have been at a party right then! I returned to base, changed clothes and drove off, but first I managed to get myself a new set of Derwent sketching pencils before I left the shop. Party! –I haven’t laughed that much in a long while! Great to see those old peeps again. Just like ten years ago! People are getting older, getting married, getting more settled… memories of “those days.” We were out all the time. Out in the mountains. The woods were reserved for weekday training. The mountains were reserved for life. –Both the verb and the noun.<br />
<br />
I was out to get some chocolate for some people I cherish today. And since I cherish myself I got a couple of exciting looking bottles of beer that I had with dinner while indulging in some lovely and stupid fast driving on Top Gear. One of the bottles was from Italy. It had a dude in a suit and a hat on the label. I thought he looked like a Mafioso; mom upgraded him to Mafia-boss. Had to have a cigar afterwards. It was amazing. It reminded me about ten years ago… Those days… when we were still allowed to smoke cigars with our coffee in fancy little coffee shops, before smoking became so dangerous that they had to cover the shelves in the shops where cigars are kept, so that no one be tempted to by some. Those days…<br />
<br />
Afterwards I stood outside the house in a big down jacket, having met with a rather large collection of great people within the last 24 hours, had exciting Mafia-beer and watched fast cars for dinner; I could hear Coldplay through the wall from my stereo and feel the Monte Christo and the crisp air and hear the snow. I came back in and as I sat down by my desk I felt the characteristic smell of old-school sketching pencils.<br />
<br />
Sometimes we dream about the past. Future or past; I’m as guilty as anyone, but this one is different. It’s one of those full-circle, sensing the start of something new, I’ve been here before but this is just a short stay. You’ve gotta collect all of your experiences to pack the most power into the next punch. I’m a decade older, I’ve learned more but am re-visiting past excitements. New excitements.<br />
<br />
So I got this book by Henry Kissinger called “On China.” I remember when Kamer in Seinfeld was gonna try to act scary, “I know Henry Kissinger!” The text on the back of the cover starts like this: “Forty years ago almost to the day, President Richard Nixon did me the honor of sending me to Beijing…” One of my good friends commented on a controversial post I placed on Facebook, “Harald, supporting controversy since 1979!” I’d write that in Kissinger’s comment box for that opening-line! You just know it’s gonna be a good read! –And you’ve gotta admire Kissinger’s honour-culture in how he speaks about his former boss.<br />
<br />
Had a look at a book about one of my great heroes in the bookshop today. His name is Fridtjof Nansen. He was the first to lead a skiing expedition across the Greenland ice-cap in the late 19th Century, and he won the Nobel Peace Price for his impressive humanitarian efforts. A great explorer, a great statesman, a great scientist, a great writer an illustrator, a great communicator; a great inspiration! The book said that he had a hard time finding meaning in the triviality of society. I guess his dreams were bigger. –Dreams for eternity, while here in time. We share the same birthday, many of the same passions; and I’m starting to understand, presumably a whole lot mor<br />
<br />
I love being back in 2001, re-charged and excited! Now, a toast for 2012 and the rest of eternity!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-999171566998168322011-12-02T15:45:00.000-08:002011-12-02T16:13:18.584-08:00无聊!So, we've had this old house since 1930. It'll be the base for the next 100 also.<br /><br />Sis got married in 2008. She married one of my old friends. He's great!<br /><br />I've been in and out of the country the last couple of years. When I've been home I have been staying at the old room. At the room with my book cases, most of my record collection, the stereo and the huge battle sword standing right by my bed.<br /><br />Sister's room next door is empty. Well that is, I'm filling it up with books to become a library.<br /><br />Since I've been mostly abroad since 2005 I haven't really noticed properly till lately… How boring it is when Sis is not around!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFv2nzc01FMT_YP8Zx7bSJx0lZKag9x5CSuGfpTvw5CNhTICAu2t8FtP30A6v7OW7xY4e-tuhUIgJW_yr1lOklhcm9XfLKEoVJw0gAbywtJQVK2UhSXwVIg9BY-vwKXrkRLdujSDu2r4E/s1600/Villa_Medicea_di_Poggio.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFv2nzc01FMT_YP8Zx7bSJx0lZKag9x5CSuGfpTvw5CNhTICAu2t8FtP30A6v7OW7xY4e-tuhUIgJW_yr1lOklhcm9XfLKEoVJw0gAbywtJQVK2UhSXwVIg9BY-vwKXrkRLdujSDu2r4E/s320/Villa_Medicea_di_Poggio.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681685134105969554" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Sorry, not our house but similar colour...<br />(Villa di Medici, Tuscany, ca. 1470)</span>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-60257156214141533212011-11-10T10:56:00.000-08:002012-01-08T15:23:42.973-08:00Telephone Terror<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6CpVxmsTxV8ANecLBT5zIXKt87zXVPRV0uymMTnTPbetdrRUM_VIB2s6rrVimWOVD3JD581D2LUiPyWm6OWw8rfx3XvL3dwh1s70kdaXUvUIEMlrN7BIIlJsRtdWEi13jiI5asxh_DA/s1600/Telephone.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673443943496071410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6CpVxmsTxV8ANecLBT5zIXKt87zXVPRV0uymMTnTPbetdrRUM_VIB2s6rrVimWOVD3JD581D2LUiPyWm6OWw8rfx3XvL3dwh1s70kdaXUvUIEMlrN7BIIlJsRtdWEi13jiI5asxh_DA/s320/Telephone.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 180px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 280px;" /></a><br />
<br />
“Rrrrriiing!”<br />
Picking up my phone I can see that it’s an Oslo number I’m not familiar with.<br />
“Hello?”<br />
<br />
Let’s stop there for a moment!<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
We were well trained! Our extended family and our parents’ friends used to commend mom and dad for having children with such pristine telephone manners. It happened often, and the comments were proudly passed on to us by our parents.<br />
<br />
I remember trying out an old phone at a museum when I was a kid. I must still have been in kindergarten. It was the kind where you’d spin a handle, talk into a sort of funnel, hold another one by your ear and speak a manual operator before getting the correct line. At home we had a dial with numbers behind, I was good at dialling fast! Then the 90’s took the last charm of the industrial revolution away and we got a white phone with a keyboard. It was really practical though and I used it a lot. Phone manners were for those days. Before you could see who called and while all who called still had somewhat noble intentions.<br />
<br />
“Haltvik, vær så god!”<br />
<br />
Your own surname to identify that the operator or caller had gotten the right line. Vær så god: please proceed, the word is yours or however you want to translate it.<br />
<br />
Our little children voices must have sounded tiny! I can remember my little sister using the same phrase. In fact, I believe it must have been the same phrase my grandparents once taught dad. He used the same phrase and must once have sounded as tiny as sis and I.<br />
<br />
Then the displays came and you could go, “yo dude!” –Nothing wrong with that, just a new way of expressing friendliness!<br />
<br />
But as time passed past us we started getting calls from numbers that didn’t show up on the screen, and when you picked up the phone you’d hear the slight hum of an office in the background. “Am I speaking to Mr. so-and-so?” (Where are your bloody manners!? I tell you who I am, you tell me who you are! –you don’t ask who I am when you’re calling me, and at least not before you have identified yourself!)<br />
“Yes, speaking!”<br />
“I am so glad I caught you in Mr… (–fill in as appropriate). You see I have this wonderful offer for you where you stand to win a cruise for two if you just give us your e-mail address and order a book –free of charge off course; well in fact, I’ll throw in a second book just to show our appreciation for your first order with us in this order-to-win-a-cruise offer we would like to give you just because we can see from our records that two years ago… (–fill in as appropriate something totally un appropriate; or at least something unrelated).<br />
<br />
Dad started using a suspicious “Hello…!?” if he couldn’t see who it was. My “hello” started to border on the militant. Then dad stopped picking up the phone if there was no number on the display. And I chose a meaner version of “hello” if I didn’t know who it was.<br />
<br />
Then the punks figured the good people out and stopped hiding their numbers. And so it was today, that I got a number up on my screen that had the same effect on me as a blank screen. I was pretty sure I knew what it was. –but if it was indeed something important I would have to pick it up anyway.<br />
<br />
It’s been easy as long as I live abroad. “Dude, I live in England!” “Ok, heheh… sorry, have a nice day!” Laugh’s on you dude! Once the police authorities from a little town North of here called me while I lived in Singapore.<br />
“Hello Sir, I would just like to reassure you that we have now found your wife’s purse!”<br />
–well if you’ve found my wife I’m curious cause “I’m not married! I live on East Coast in Singapore and haven’t been in Norway for months!”<br />
“Ehhh…!”<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
“Hello!”<br />
(You can hear the office in the background)<br />
“Hello!”<br />
“Who is this?”<br />
“I am calling from…” (–insert name of random electricity company.)<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
When I was a kid, municipal counsels and the likes owned electric production plants. Then, spurred by the socialists (!) we were told that it would be more effective for the government and cheaper for the customers if it was privatised. (What they didn’t tell you was that they just signed a deal with the devil (EU and the EEA) to gain more cred for themselves internationally and possibly give them great positions to retire to after leaving Norwegian politics) and the devil answered back that: “cool, you can be down with me if you sell all your belongings to the private sector and follow me. –Long story short: ever since we’ve had unstable energy prices and particularly high prices when it’s cold (Adam Smith could have told you that before electricity was put into wires); and cold it gets in this country! Welcome to Norway! Additionally, it brought about a fair share of telephone-terror as well.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
“So you are calling to sell me something then?”<br />
<br />
“No, I’m not calling to sell you something (slightly frantic). I’m calling to give you an offer to switch electricity supplier. May I know which electricity company you are using?”<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
Answering "no" to my initial question is straight forward lying!<br />
<br />
The truth would be that we live in the same family villa as we have done since 1930. And my father who has spent an entire career as a distinguished engineer in the hydroelectric power production sector in Norway and Northern Europe finds the best deals to supply our electrical wires. I don’t care who sells it, but I’m sad the proceeds are no longer used to maintain schools, public transport and hospitals. Some of you may be surprised by this, due to my stands on social economy and politics. But it’s all about tangible outcomes of policies. If it “benefits both the sovereign and the people” it’s Adam Smith. Our current policies benefit just a few people, which ironically sounds more like Marx to me.<br />
<br />
Tell him the truth…? Previously I was that mannered. I would tell him how the situation was and that I was not interested in his services, and I would do it in a kind way.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
“Goodbye!”<br />
“Huh?”<br />
“Goodbye!”<br />
(Hang up!)<br />
<br />
The only one more foolish than a fool is the one who quarrels with a fool…<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
It felt good! We (family and friends) had joked about what to say to these sales people several times. I had suggested a procedure that would sound something like this:<br />
<br />
“Hello?”<br />
“Hello! Is Mr. Harald Haltvik in at the moment?”<br />
(Answer in breaking voice on the brink of crying…)<br />
“No! (...) He… he died in a motorcycle accident yesterday!”<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, it was our family that found it hilarious and our family friends that found it too morbid. Most people there were laughing so the dinging room was shaking. –Anything to get back at those telephone terrorist bastards, ey?<br />
<br />
But it didn’t feel all good. It felt bad interrupting the guy and hanging up in its own way. Something from our childhood has been dying for a while and it’s not being substituted with something better or more advanced. Mom has almost lost it, dad has lost it, sis has lost it and I’ve lost it; the true unwritten courtesy that governed how telephone conversations were carried out. The remnants of the days when gentlemen lifted their hats when you passed by, when you nodded in acknowledgement if meeting a complete stranger on an otherwise empty street (I still sometimes do, to both the fright and delight of my by-passers.) –The days when the telephone was still something relatively novel and had not been intruded by everyone and everything, and had not intruded “everywhere” itself.<br />
<br />
Great neo-soul, better computers, cheaper flights, exciting cigars from new markets and fabulous cuisine from the whole world, accessible everywhere!<br />
<br />
But still… some things used to be better before!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-57768205754845192892011-10-28T17:41:00.000-07:002012-03-04T13:02:33.021-08:00On Suicide and the Incredible Gift of LifeI couldn’t sleep and started reading a book I had recently ordered from the US. ‘The Longevity Project.’<br />
<br />
I skipped the introduction and went straight to the chapters I was most curious about. The book is built on a life-span study of a large number of people that were born in the early 20th century. –on how they lived, how they thought and how they died. ‘Comprehensive’ is the word!<br />
<br />
The book aims to find keys to a long and healthy life, but in the process it also deals with the negative image. Darkness of the mind, timidity, self pity and self destruction; early and violent deaths and the inevitable, suicide.<br />
<br />
The book makes reference to a brilliant suicidologist, Dr. Shneidman. Dr. Shneidman did not think too highly about chemical instabilities in the brain as a general explanation to suicide, but was with staggering (and almost spooky) accuracy able to predict personality traits and thought patterns that would culminate in a self-staged goodbye. The chapter went on to describe poison-pills and people who blew their brains out; but also people who lived long and relatively happy lives with few regrets, and who’s only real regret was not to cease more opportunities while they had them.<br />
<br />
1 a.m. in the morning this may not be the average choice literature, but whatever you think about it, it is very captivating. Many years ago it would have probably have scared me in the dark of the night, but this time around it’s different.<br />
<br />
I have seen enough dark sides of life myself and also through others, to distinguish some of these patterns and personality traits when I come across them. Very briefly we could categorize suiciders into the emotionally motivated and the rationally motivated. There is always an element of emotion; and if we agree that action requires thought, one could even argue that there is also always a rational–or if you will–pseudorational precursor to a suicide.<br />
<br />
I used to quarrel a lot years ago with people that claimed suicide to be fundamentally selfish. I still believe that ending yourself is so desperately destructive that one cannot talk about a general rule of self-enhancing selfishness, but with time I have managed to see become aware of some of the grey-zones. There are incidents when I believe a certain degree of selfishness can be claimed if you leave behind strong obligations you have chosen not to complete, but leave to others. But even in these situations the core element of the decision is usually not to pain someone else.<br />
<br />
Emotional. Rational.<br />
<br />
Emotional can be swift. Something happens and the consequences seems too dire. I heard about a guy who crashed a very expensive car his family owned, plus did a few other small things. His friend who heard the shot told me about it. I am sure his parents would rather want a messed-up son, than one who couldn’t face the bill and ended it. It is strictly not rational and the time-frame it all happened within confirms it. I would call it emotional.<br />
<br />
The rational I find easier to understand the mechanics of. It–I believe–is more predictable. It poses as intellectual, but often isn’t. It is like highly selective reading to undergird a very subjective argument in an essay. I know a man who says: “you can always find evidence for what you believe in!” There’s an emotional direction to such thoughts, but the thoughts claim loud and clear: “My name is reason!”<br />
<br />
What really struck me tonight was something new.<br />
<br />
When you see through the fog you don’t know what the lines on the horizon are; hills, mountains, canyons, valleys? But if you stand there and study every little glimpse of light and shadow the fog gives up, your mind can eventually draw a map of the terrain ahead of you. I have done this myself, after sundown in the winter to match my surroundings to the map when I’ve been lost in the mountains. It works.<br />
<br />
What could be more different than emotion and rationale? And do the two have anything in common in a dark and self-destructive mind? I think the fog has let go of so many glimpses of light by now that I’m starting to sense what’s out there. You survive long enough, you watch long enough, you pay attention long enough and you’ll start to see a face–a will. One very determined, tangible evil who once poses as emotion and other times as reason. Gripping the same fundamental weaknesses and lonely parts of the human soul–however different they are–and leading them to the very same place: Life => End, full stop.<br />
<br />
Whatever potentials you had left just ran out.<br />
<br />
As you start to see him your hair may rise, your pulse increase and fear may come upon you! But it shouldn’t. If you suddenly can distinguish enough of the mountain through the fog, you will know where you are on the map in an instant.<br />
<br />
It is encouraging and reassuring! The long-living people in the control-group that were compared to the early suiciders had one regret; all the chances they did not take. The more I see the evil, the more tangible the devil becomes, and he loves hiding! But the stronger you see the shadow, the stronger you see the object who cast it and the light behind it.<br />
<br />
Tonight, while not being able to sleep and randomly reading a book, I was reminded about the possibilities of life! –And how some of my own biggest regrets also were not taking more chances. –And that, if there’s a negative and dark image that imitates reason in your life, there’s an even greater God! –And that, when you chose to live, your hindsight will tell you in many years from now, that not living while living was a bigger crime than crashing cars, breaking up, being stupid, failing-while-trying and hoping for the best while the world came crashing down on your head.<br />
<br />
15 years ago I spent a year in boarding school of a particular type we have in Scandinavia, while doing a backcountry and sports course. I was rather active. I led the student union, was steeply into the student politics of the school, used the dark-room regularly, sang in the choir, ran off to the nearest mountain for off-piste skiing whenever the snow was falling, had my own keys to the library to prepare work for the union… and distinctly remember regretting after the year was over–at age 17–not taking more chances and getting to know more people.Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-51620245209636793022011-10-24T13:02:00.000-07:002011-10-24T13:13:45.968-07:00Seen on TwitterFamous Last Words:<br /><br />1. "Hold my beer...watch this!"<br /><br />2. "What's the worst that could happen?"Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-16882350270640876642011-10-14T12:52:00.000-07:002011-10-14T13:01:03.919-07:00The Eurozone, Solidarity for Sale and the Ghosts of Currencies PastLast Summer I started writing on an essay I intended to put here on my blog. It was going to be a critique of the EU’s Eurozone. I picked my condensed copy of the Maastricht Treaty off the shelf for the first time in many years, and wrote around seven handwritten pages in preparation.<br /><br />The arguments were going to be built against these points: <br />1. The Treaty states that the union works to promote “solidarity” between member states. That can for instance mean monetary aid.<br />2. I got my copy of the treaty in 1994 and it then stated that the member states should work towards a system of one currency. The Euro that we now have. The intellectual architect of the Euro, Robert Mundell, once famously said: “the optimal number of currencies in the world is an odd number, preferably less than three.” He doesn’t seem so clever now! –though I was never a fan before.<br /><br />The arguments were going to be that:<br />1. True “solidarity” should monetarily speaking be helping your neighbour attain his best possible position in the marked. That is not done by feeding him with the surplus money from your own industrial production, in a large scale or on a regular basis. It is done by creating a system where he has access to every competitive advantage that every one else has access to!<br />2. Just think about the massive competitive advantage Greece would have right now if it still used the Drachmas! The country is, monetarily speaking, currently just worth a few buildings and antique monuments. The labour force is hardly employed, so there is very little work that creates monetary worth. Naturally, every high-fly industrialist in Germany wants to bail them out. At the moment, there are a lot of things that are slowing down the growth in the Eurozone, but Germany is not one of them! As it stands, Germany is earning lots on the Euro, combined with very clever politics of course; and Greece is bleeding because of the Euro, but would in spite of slightly bonkers politics still produce goods under private initiatives if it had a proper competitive advantage. That advantage would be called ‘Drachmas,’ and if they still existed they would be so cheap that you could sprinkle your ice-cream with the coins and decorate your sandwiches with the notes. Goods would sell, people would be employed, money would be earned and the people of Greece could get on with cleaning up some of its government offices. I’m not saying everything would be perfect, but they would be a lot better! –and more importantly, growth could eventually become sustainable! Germany would possibly have to work a little bit harder to compete, but Greece would be allowed a position to sell more… sorry, sell anything at all!<br /><br />An investor and financial analyst was asked on a recent BBC programme if he thought investors would return to Greece if the planned bail-out package is received from Germany et al. He replied that the bail-out package would eventually run out and the willingness to provide credit to a country with close to no marked confidence would be very low. Spot on indeed!<br /><br />The interviewer mumbled something about the feasibility to return to the Drachmas and the expert nodded and might have said something containing the word “possible.”<br /><br />I have never liked the word “solidarity” and I think there are many other words that do a better job. It has become old and worn, and it has been applied in too many situations to make sense to any one situation in particular any more. But whatever specific and nice meaning we have been convinced or fooled into believing that it holds, we have learned another less flattering definition as of lately. You see, between nations in close alliance it can also mean: “Pay your neighbour so he forgets he is broke!” –But you should still keep him from employment.<br /><br />I like that old word even less now!<br /><br />So, I was going to write an essay as captivating as a thriller on the topic! And believe me, it was going to be grand! It would be flamboyant! It would be sharp and funny like Shakespeare! –Epic like a gothic knights’ tale! It was going to paint a picture of a scarily real farce; as frightening as your least favourite politician and as much a farce as the management at Fawlty Towers!<br /><br />But I never got there, cause someone beat me to it! The EU beat me to it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeeL8fV9ATbw2htA9gMlhG3Af4GvlT8vFJeacwFuU24TYdJX9cj7PnLAKGNHJmgLoWTqU4K76Y4PIv34IGrE2UGHrPRenyNmuGgxDgH0f7efUq42x0iFJXXZxHYFWbQuID3aQKeIu2w30/s1600/1-Drachma-1917.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeeL8fV9ATbw2htA9gMlhG3Af4GvlT8vFJeacwFuU24TYdJX9cj7PnLAKGNHJmgLoWTqU4K76Y4PIv34IGrE2UGHrPRenyNmuGgxDgH0f7efUq42x0iFJXXZxHYFWbQuID3aQKeIu2w30/s320/1-Drachma-1917.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663439322990217218" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">(Way to go!)</span>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-9436536129038452152011-10-14T11:15:00.000-07:002011-10-14T11:18:39.503-07:00A Walk in the Woods and the Next Ten YearsI’ve rigged a small music studio setup by the window in one of the living rooms here in Norway. Double speaker sets, a couple of Macs and the necessary extras. Sis came over to have lunch with dad today and I joined them in the kitchen. Afterwards I was gonna sit down to do some admin at one of the computers but the view was just too beautiful. I forgot to tell you, there’s a window with almost panoramic view over the city and surrounding hills in front of me when I’m on the computers.<br /><br />I was dreaming of mountain trekking, but haven’t had the big push to go do it lately. Just been dreaming of the sceneries but I’ve been spending time in the woods instead. It takes less commitment and can be more spontaneous, as it is just a quick drive away and requires no equipment.<br /><br />I didn’t know whether I was gonna end up in town or in the woods so I left the house in rather normal clothes. No backcountry stuff. I really should be working and writing e-mails, but there was no way I would be able to focus with a crisp frosty view of the hills bathed in sunlight in front of me.<br /><br />First stop was the hills I can see from the window. The road up the last leg of the hills was icy. I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to get all the way up but I was in the end. The car started sliding a couple of times, but I managed to correct it quite quickly.<br /><br />I got a surprise when I reached the car-park, right under the timberline. I couldn’t believe how many mountains on the Eastern horizon was already covered in snow! I mean, it’s just a drizzle for now and you can’t ski on it, but from a difference it doesn’t make a difference. –Just that this looks distinctly like Autumn and not ski-season! Deep green valleys with towering white mountains above, flushed in midday sunlight. I took a couple of pictures, but having just a phone it was impossible to capture the impression of grand mountains as far away as the Swedish border. It was worth a try though…<br /><br />When I started to walk I realized city shoes and cotton socks were probably not a hit after a frost-night, but the road was nice and it soon became warmer. I stopped a couple of places alongside a lake. –Just sat on some rocks for a while looking at the day. The sun was shining and in the hillside the temperature was getting more comfy. At the second place I stopped I saw some cranberries by the side of the track. There ain’t many left now, but you can still find a few good ones. Oooh, and then I saw some more up the hill. –and then some more… and so it went. And then I realized I was almost up on a small ridge and guessed that there would be really nice view up there. Besides, I shouldn’t be too far away from one of those little roads that criss-cross up the face of the small mountain to give access to the army’s installations, and for Summer maintenance of the ski lift. I was sure it would be nice up there!<br /><br />A few minutes later I was sliding down three steps for every step I took forward and was revealing hitherto unknown layers of wet dirt under a beautiful top-layer of Erica and grass. I saw my light brown suede shoes change colour, to a colour I didn’t like. It was actually quite ironic! I always used to walk around in funky light trekking shoes before I left Norway. They were fashionable in Norwegian cities and I was always prepared when the day presented me with a challenge. How many other people’s shoes have I messed up by the words: “oooh, come check this out!” It was the mountain’s ironic revenge on me and my life! “Wahaha! –have you become a city boy while abroad? Payback time for all the crazy things you’ve made other people do!” Ok, I got it! You win! And it was actually quite fun. Besides, the ridge was just a few more steps away now!<br /><br />The ridge that looked so nice and dry turned out to be some old brown grass with a marsh behind. On the other side there was no smooth descent into the woods, but a small cliff with a very steep hill under. And as for the little road I had dreamt of, I was far away and there was another marsh and another leg of woods between it and me. I was not too happy about the marsh-idea on behalf of my shoes.<br /><br />Counting the way I had come up I could now:<br />A. Chose the lesser of three evils.<br />B. Chose the most fun of three evils.<br /><br />Fun is good! There had to be a way through the cliffs!<br /><br />There was!<br /><br />After a while I came to a flat plane in the hill under the cliffs. It looked like someone had chipped it out of the rock at some point and I thought “what a lovely spot to put a cabin.” I reckoned that was probably what it had been used for once. I made my way through the thick branches of some threes, and voilà! –there I stood facing right into the wall of a small cabin!<br /><br />I could vaguely remember the place from many years back. I don’t know who owns it, but it looks like it could have been quite nice at some point. Now woods were enveloping it and someone had ungraciously removed the front door. The cabin’s days were numbered. It looked so sad! Looking like a little 1950’s holiday pearl, it had been left to die. I do think about that quite a bit these days. How things die and give space for something else. Chiefly things like innovation and initiatives. It says about King David that when he had served his generation he went to be with his fathers. His generation! Anything with the word “generation” in it is often surrounded in hype, popular culture or political disagreements on care of the elderly. But more fundamentally, generation means something “finite.” –A timeline cut in both ends. A birth and a death. That’s the first historic consideration you can make out of it: “What’s the container?” –and only then can you ask: “What is it filled with?” Time-container: 1642–1651, filled with what: E.g. The English Civil Wars. We’re all gonna die, and how sad it may be, this once lovely little cabin had served it’s last guests. But the track had not! Countless footsteps that had once trafficked the hill still left their mark. Once nature has accepted a trodden trail it does not give it up very fast. I later found more of these old trails that I knew. People don’t know them today, and they went out of use before my time, but I once used to know them before they closed up too much. Now they manifest in wet grooves in the terrain filled with pebbles or as open rock in a wet hillside. Nature is slowly swallowing them, and you won’t know what they are unless you know what you’re looking for. Anyway, my shoes and I were grateful to all the people that had once walked up and down the hill. We had had enough mud for a while.<br /><br />I was back on the road again. I didn’t want to follow it all the way to the end, so I decided to aim for a small hill before the vast marshlands that lead you down towards the fjord on the other side. I sat up there for a while enjoying the view and taking some half successful camera-phone pictures before walking back.<br /><br />I used to visit places like this, sometimes several times a week. And I would live for the snow and mountains on the horizon. I’m looking back at an era and I’m not really sure what I’m doing in Norway yet. I like being home more and more, but last time really lived here I was this active little trekking-guide/ skier kid. I don’t think I had realized fully how much older I had become, until I looked into some familiar old mirrors I knew here in Norway this Summer. I’ve often felt older than I am, so I might just be younger than I think… as usual. But still…<br /><br />After a while I came back to the car and tried to shoot some more pictures of the snowy mountains on the boarder to Sweden. Big green woodlands and a grey/white horizon under a blue sky. Really nice, but the mountains were too far away to catch them properly in the frame of a phone-camera.<br /><br />Next, I set sail for the sea and decided to drive around the hills down by the fjord. Picturesque was the word, but I was just driving right through it all, catching every impressionist’s impression in the same big bag. –Like a little kid with an insect net in the wind. It’s like “good view = happy, period.”<br /><br />I thought of the mountain treks I had lead and all the people I had introduced to the outback, the youth works and organisations I had taken part in, and the free spirited crazy things I had loved so much and wondered if I had left anything lasting? Karen Blixen’s words played in my head in Meryl Streep’s voice a couple of times: “If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me?”<br /><br />I was 17 and wanted to climb everything with a slope, ski everything that was white and paddle in every little stream the rain left. I used to think of all the fun I was gonna have the ten next years; now, the last decade. Looking back, I got almost everything I dreamed of and a whole lot more. But with time I have stopped asking things like: “will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?” or whatever would be the Norwegian equivalent of Baroness Blixen’s African adventures.<br /><br />The King’s writer was right that David only passed on when he had completed the task of serving his generation. But no matter how learned the writer was, he didn’t have the benefit of our three thousand years of hindsight. People that go above and beyond in serving their generations usually leave a much more far-reaching legacy. Do you carry dreams of how society, your family, your city, your school or your business should look like? If you give it heart and soul, the next generation may still not sing a song of you, but they’ll be lifted up on the shoulders of your work. My grandparents left my sister and me some of their savings. Not little and not a fortune, but they invested what they could in us. They had been gone for roughly ten and fifteen years when I was a mid-twenties student in Singapore with urgent need for a very expensive Mac to mix music on. For the rest of my life I’ll know that some of my most important skills were obtained, and some of my most important essays were written on the back of the work invested by my grandparents. Proverbs 13:22 says that, “a good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children,” and thus we see that he is allowed to serve more than just his own generation.<br /><br />I hope the next ten years are less defined by who I am and what I do, but more defined by what I leave.Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-16708626751792775772011-09-30T11:39:00.000-07:002011-09-30T11:49:56.266-07:00Cappuccinos & D'Angleo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikyd7reqSeVzYbi7xcooKApoOQnPktEPGh6G0TKHxgK3v2bjjDRgwXhMaEdT-rBwaHS2muyMcxe0laJ72uigSthztLMGcwV4XOHbKCXGn4DEgBBpUJXCgyaXzcOUyrHBjevftbanGf-g/s1600/DSC00068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikyd7reqSeVzYbi7xcooKApoOQnPktEPGh6G0TKHxgK3v2bjjDRgwXhMaEdT-rBwaHS2muyMcxe0laJ72uigSthztLMGcwV4XOHbKCXGn4DEgBBpUJXCgyaXzcOUyrHBjevftbanGf-g/s320/DSC00068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658224319010773858" /></a><br /><br />Always makes me think of...<br /><br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/H_WzjiTzZBA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-55876092505811334962011-09-14T14:47:00.001-07:002011-09-30T11:50:52.597-07:00Chill!I think this is a very good idea indeed! Don't know if it's any good for the office... maybe in the customer lounge? But it's the essential thirst-killer for anyone's country-side castle!<br /><br />Wonder if they make a Cognac one?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkIMkr38tm8SAdA0YpM6089sRzwtKEZhdqb0ezDyYTftByxxuLRFlNwB5SYUG-lH8ikS1non1Rw0ruyqVk0LO63NE17CqWhxMVzhoGHBlPnV56k4qFZ2HF0yNNeHs6EnvHAYmfihJR1ck/s1600/Champagne+Dispenser.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkIMkr38tm8SAdA0YpM6089sRzwtKEZhdqb0ezDyYTftByxxuLRFlNwB5SYUG-lH8ikS1non1Rw0ruyqVk0LO63NE17CqWhxMVzhoGHBlPnV56k4qFZ2HF0yNNeHs6EnvHAYmfihJR1ck/s320/Champagne+Dispenser.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652335308380922290" /></a>Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-41916442680727260362011-09-09T14:27:00.001-07:002011-09-09T14:35:18.255-07:00A Blogpost from the PastMy friend Hilde has my favorite blog, ever! I've been thinking lately about how it doesn't feel like that long ago that I was a "young student" moving to Asia from Norway. It was only like 2005! Naturally, one wants progress and new challenges, but sometimes one does not want it all to change neither.<br /><br />I remember laughing so hard when I first saw this post! I was on the phone with Vienna, she told me Hilde had posted it. Poor girl, I must have laughed so loud into the phone that her ear could have fallen off at the other end!<br /><br />It reminds me about our Norwegian colony on the East Coast in Singapore, my arts-college days with lots of international students around, a short walk to the beach and myself and my own life… just a few years ago:<br /><a href="http://hildegudvangen.blogspot.com/2007/02/movienight.html">http://hildegudvangen.blogspot.com/2007/02/movienight.html</a><br /><br />"Those were the days" people say! Lets make some brand new days then!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756322157916830425.post-53566401117576263382011-08-21T16:06:00.000-07:002011-08-21T16:08:12.134-07:00Berries!We’d been some friends hanging out and I had half an hour drive home at the end of the night. I got to bed around three thirty and woke up the next day with a headache. I went upstairs to eat –a lot! Then I went downstairs again to read. Then I went upstairs to eat more stuff. Then I went downstairs to read more. But finally I made it to the front door. I couldn’t spend an entire Saturday like this!
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<br />Armed with a waterproof Gore-Tex jacket, heavy leather boots and big khaki trekking-trousers I drove off to the woods. The rain had picked up during my little drive and I was not too keen on leaving the car with non-waterproof cotton trousers while it was raining like canister shots! So I sat in my car at the car-park answering some pending text-messages while the rain didn’t die down.
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<br />I drove on. If it was gonna pour down like this I was not exceedingly fond of the idea of walking around somewhere, just to soak up a lot of water.
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<br />I drove to a big lake where I really enjoy the view. It wasn’t raining as hard there and so I walked around at the beach for a while. The weather seemed to have become a little bit lighter so I decided to head for this timbermen’s trail that leads you up the woods and on to the marshes in front of a local mountain. The marshes are down (or up of you will) in a high valley and you’ll have to go through some rough terrain to get there. It’s not that bad but it’s just stupidly wet, branches everywhere and hill up and down in a not so very open landscape.
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<br />I parked my car and headed for the trail. Just strolling along I’d expect to reach the top of the trail and then be back again within an hour.
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<br />The stream that runs down the valley was running crazy with rainwater, and I could tell from the grass on the banks that it had gone even higher. I had brought a foldable cup with me in a pocket and I stopped for a drink. As I walked back up on the bank again I spotted some wild strawberries on the ground. We’ve got some in the garden and I get to eat them throughout the summer but I just couldn’t stand looking at such taste-packed berries without eating them. Oooh, and there were some raspberry bushes! And the more I picked, the more I found! After further berry-eating I walked myself right into some blueberries. I had thought the blueberry season was soon about to end but these were as fresh as any and looked, and tasted, at their peak! Further on there were some cranberries. When I see cranberries I think of accessories to go along with meat dishes and I couldn’t really mix the previous tastes with the cranberries in my mind, so I gave it a go. It was indeed recommendable and more of the mix was consumed and flushed down with water from the stream.
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<br />I carried on upwards towards the marshes. Ever since I became aware of this trail in the early summer I had noticed a nice little waterfall off the road in a narrow little side-valley. The valley wasn’t long and could possibly be in the excess of fifty or sixty meters. A little trail went in on the right side of the valley and the waterfall came tumbling over the rocks on the left side where the valley ended. I walked all the way in and climbed up the side of the waterfall. Behind the waterfall the stream was rather narrow and quietly running. It reminded me about the kind of streams you can fish Trout in with worms or small dry-flies. There was clearly no fish that could live up here, but it was still with a Trout-fisherman’s excitement I snuck through up the stream. At some point I found a heap of branches and things that had been flushed downstream, but what I also found was a railroad tie! There’s no madman in the world that would build a railroad through the marshes up here and it would lead you just about to the centre nowhere! The only explanation would be if someone had built a bridge or a dam further upstream. I tried to step on it, but it was as slippery and slimy as an oiled mirror so it would have been laying there for a while. I walked on and found two or three more of them. In my mind I started to paint a picture of a dam or a lake where someone had done some alterations to the outlet and I got curious to see where all this water was coming from.
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<br />The water was now running through an increasingly narrow little valley and I decided to walk out of it and on to some higher ground. More railroad ties were spotted and in my mind the hidden dam, in the midst of the woods, was growing in size. How did they get it in here with no roads? Did someone fly it by helicopter? What would be the purpose of dam up here!? Or could it be a ski-trail bridge that had been taken by a flood? But who have heard of a ski-trail in here? The answer came swift and wasn’t as exciting as my mental amusements; wheel-tracks from tractors! Someone had been cultivating and cutting the woods and they had probably built a makeshift bridge at some point.
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<br />The tracks went straight through a shallow passage in the stream, and so did I.
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<br />On the land beyond the other bank it was easier to get an overview over the land and follow the stream from a distance. Then I could cut right through the terrain and not have to follow every bend it took. After breaking through some branches I came out on another big marsh with small pine trees scattered all over it. Pine can grow on marshes and their roots can spread out wide instead of going deep. Marshes like these always look so fairytale like. The small pines can have several meters between them, but you can’t always see through the field, because there are so many of them. They don’t provide any shade cause they’re too small, but they give you this sensation of the air around you getting a touch of light green colour to it. Especially when the sun shines brightly through the branches that are placed in a grown up person’s eye-height. I like this terrain, and especially in the winter. With frozen ground and a few meters of snow on top you can just slide effortlessly through it. And it was here that I made another berry discovery.
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<br />The season for cloudberries is fading and I missed it while I was working. I saw them when they started to pop up and I’m seeing them now when they’re starting to get over-ripe. But a few good ones could still be found, and I’m glad. The taste is very distinct, and it brings out a haze of memories and references to local desserts and cakes for people from all over the Nordic countries. Cloudberries, mmm… check!
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<br />I was coming to the end of the woods and plains in front of the mountain and was beginning to understand that there would not be a spring or lake that produced the water I had been following. It would rather be a combination of small sources in the hills going up to the final cliffs on the ridge above. I thought I could hear a distant waterfall in the first wooded hill, but the rain had picked up by now and I wasn’t sure if it was the falling rain or a dropping stream I was hearing.
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<br />On a small elevation in the terrain I found more berries. Blueberries, cranberries and black crowberries. Lots of them! The crowberries have a whole bunch of seeds in inside and not everyone are fond of eating them for that reason. But if you squeeze them between your teeth you get the most amazing squash, and then you can just spit out the seeds. Traditionally it’s been much used to make squash for winter storage. Indulgence was on again!
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<br />As I stood on the elevation and looked around I could see where the stream disappeared between the trees. I could also catch a glimpse of a very lofty rock when I looked the other way. No matter how long the exercise has lay dormant, a climber once in body is a climber always in heart! The rock had to be investigated to assess its potential for bouldering. As I came closer it revealed more and more of its enormity! When I finally stood underneath it, it had become clear that it was as tall as a rather grand villa with two stories and an attic and possibly including the chimney and a crow on top. It was huge! But it had none of the characteristics of a good bouldering rock! Besides, the ground underneath was drenched in water, was partly marsh and showed signs of previous flooding. Looking up through the woods I could see a cliff where the rock once had come from. Ice and frost don’t break loose a colossus like this! A few thousand years ago the glaciers retracted… and the rest is history.
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<br />I walked around it and found a few comparatively smaller rocks that were stacked up behind it. Maybe I could climb on to one of them and make my way across the next and eventually negotiate my way to the top of the tallest rock. I did. It took some time, but it was worth it. All previous attempts on maintaining some areas of my trousers dry now had to be discarded, as I was climbing on and leaning into the vegetation to get my centre of gravity as close as possible to the rock.
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<br />The peak of the rock had lots of interesting features. Apart from an amazing view of the surrounding area and a small green plain big enough for two or three people to sit down, there were lots of the most pristine cranberries I had seen all day! I couldn’t help but think that someone had probably not picked berries up here for ages, let alone climbed up. Maybe not since the old days when there was more tame animals grassing in the woods. This is not a place people come to but it would be a very natural campsite for anyone working out here. I stood on top of the rock for a while and enjoyed the view. I could see very far and thought I recognized a hill in the distance. As I was spectating it all, I could see some fog drifting towards me alongside another hill, like a low hanging cloud. It looked like the rain was gonna pick up. A couple of minutes later it did and I climbed down.
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<br />The rock turned out to be over-hanging on one side and gave good shelter. There would have been campsite enough here for two or three people to sleep comfortably without a tent. I sat down and gazed out into the air. The rain didn’t die down again and I got restless. I stood up and gazed instead.
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<br />There was no terrain left for wild strawberries and raspberries up here, like there had been no terrain for cloudberries or crowberries where I started the stroll. I had however seen some wild red currants where I started (or at least that’s what we called them when we were kids) and I thought there was a possibility of finding some around here as well. “God, if there are wild red currants up here I’d like to find some!”
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<br />The weather persisted and I decided that it was time to leave. I picked up my jacket and made myself ready to leave the shelter of the rock. That’s when I spotted them. Ok, so it wasn’t more than a grand total of three berries, but at least I found them! “Thanks!”
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<br />The journey in had gone up the hills; the journey out went down the same hills. There’s not much more of interest to add. Down on the timber men’s trail there were more sweet raspberries, blueberries and wild strawberries to be had.
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<br />Before I reached back to the car I was thinking about finding a tree that gave shelter, get my trousers off and twist the water out of them. They were drenched and weighed twice their normal weight or even more, and I didn’t want to get it all in the car. I thought about it for a moment. Water in my boots, drenched socks, trousers that feels like they’ve been dipped in a lake and starting to feel a mix of apathy and complacency I just let it be.
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<br />Much more than the first intended hour had passed. My curiosity for waterfalls, imaginary dams and railroad ties had pulled me deeper and deeper into the woods and on to the distinctly Nordic marshes. My original idea of staying reasonably dry by choosing an (initially) civilized route had failed epically! I went looking for the source of a stream I didn’t know anything about, but on the way I had been so epically fed that I dare say I have never tasted so many types of berries in one day before! I had just started with a headache and needed to get out of the house…
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<br />Thanks to the One who showed me the way to the wild red currants!Haraldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12307793708857764690noreply@blogger.com0