Finding Neverland

Grateful Kahunas

2011-10-31T00:10:00.000+01:00

Oh, time...you certainly slow for no one. I've racked up quite the busy life and couldn't be happier about it. I have to say, I love being back in school. I feel like a kid again, wearing my backpack, studying, drinking way too much coffee, getting nervous about my first day at school. I also love working again. I love teaching. I absolutely love feeling imporant and challenged, like I have a purpose...and I don't mean that to knock motherhood in any way. I'm just happy, happy doing things to further myself and my brain and my personal existence here in good ol' Norway.

Having given an unintentional knock at motherhood, I will say that I've been having a blast with Baby C. There's something about the 2's - I don't think they're terrible at all. In fact, quite the opposite. I'm more in love with this little guy every day. We have so much fun together, can communicate well, immitate one another, play together...he's such a great, happy, goofy sidekick. And yet, our relationship is made so much better by the fact that we're no longer together all the time. He's making so many friends, learning new things, playing his little heart out, and coming home to excitedly tell me all about it in baby language. I, in turn, get to tell him all about Mommy's life outside of being a mommy. Because these things are important, to share our lives together without being irrevocably intertwined with one another. I like that he has his freedom during the day. I like that I have mine. I like even more that our time together is precious, that the effort at savoring and exploring every moment is more important now that our hours together are fewer. Talking about him makes me feel warm inside.

Since warm isn't an adjective I will be using much in the near future, I'll dive in while I can....autumn makes me feel warm inside too. The changes I see in the fall remind me of the things that have changed, of all that I have and am grateful for. It reminds me of those who aren't with me, yet how much I love and am loved by them. It reminds me how quickly the years are passing, since it feels like last autumn was just here. Autumn in Norway is a fun and challenging thing to experience. If you can wade through without drowning in all the rain, you get the chance to see some of the most beautiful colors a landscape can hold. It's short lived and, almost overnight, those beautiful colors fall to the ground, swallowed in the puddles and muck. If you catch them falling on the right day, you can sit in the biggest mountain of painted leaves you've ever seen. You can pick baskets of chestnuts and make your own decorations with them. But you have to do it quick...toss the leaves up, breathe in that fresh, crisp air, and enjoy it all before the day turns and your nosehairs become icecycles. Our days are short now and it seems I'd already forgotten how dark winter really is here...I'm now counting the hours of daylight remaining and we're down from almost 24 to under 9. By Thanksgiving, that number will likely be around 7, by Christmas maybe 4. I'm trying to brace myself, but obviously I haven't fared too well these past two winters, so I admit I'm readily nervous for my third. I'm bucking up, doubling up, and going for the best, regardless.

But before I roll into daydreaming about Thanksgiving and Christmas (and the dark therein), I can't forget about Halloween! It's not celebrated much here, although it is becoming more popular for the younger kids, and I'm happy that it is becoming more recognized. Halloween was a much-loved time for me as a kid - I was fascinated by scary movies and haunted houses and crazy costumes (I won't mention the hideously, America's Funniest Home Videos-worthy, homemade outfit my mother dared to dress and parade her 9 year old in). I am happy to know that I might be able to embarrass my son...uh hum, I mean...dress up my son just as much in the future. We aren't doing the traditional trick-or-treating this year, but we did attend a smashing Halloween birthday fest tonight, where Baby C showed off his best Superman muscles, ate his weight in boller, and played with a room full of kitties and princesses. I didn't dress up this year (or at least, if I did, it wasn't intentional), but it was a great Halloween.

Two days ago I celebrated my two year anniversary of arriving to Norway and it feels so darned good to say that. I feel like I deserve a glass of wine and a toast, because what a two years! I am tougher than I was two years ago, yet I'm a lot softer too. I'm sad to have seen certain changes, but humbled and comforted by change as well. I feel resilient and lucky. I'm grateful for so much. If I'd known then what I know now, I'd tell myself these two things: learn the language and go play in the snow.

Hoping everyone is having a cozy October, a spooky Halloween, enough time to evaluate what makes you happy and grateful, and enough kahunas to gear up for playing in the snow!

Enchanted Ditties

2011-10-04T20:39:00.002+02:00

Happy 100th Post! Thank you again to all those who have read, followed, and commented on my 99 little ditties thus far. You have made blogging a thoroughly enjoyable experience for me...aaaannd, that being said, I am up and running again, ready to pay attention to this site. It is hard to keep track of blogging in the "warm(er)" months of Norway, when the sun is out (sometimes) and the rain is gone (sometimes). My attention is devoured by any opportunity to race towards the light. Alas, the light is fading...it is dark at 7am and again at 7pm, the ultimate prediction that winter is chasing us down and winning. Soon, we will have but a glimpse of the sun as it hovers briefly over the edge of the Earth, peeking at us to laugh on its way down again. I can't gripe...winter (at least the start of it) is charming, what with the julebords and holidays and skiing and cozy fireplace warmth. I am still enchanted by it all.

Enchanted, I think, is fitting these days. I am less than a month away from my two-year anniversary of life in Norway and, yes, I can honestly say that I am quite enchanted with life, with Norway, with my family, with the things that now feel strangely familiar and yet new. After two years, I can finally say that I feel adjusted, although I know the reality is that I am still in the middle of integrating fully. But, after two years, I can also say that I feel "official." What with a year's worth of delays in barnehage, schooling, job searching, I haven't felt official, even if I have been so on paper. Well, now I feel official. I have barnehage, I have been taking Norwegian classes for almost two months, I have a tax card and a bank account, and soon I will have money to deposit into it, because as of very recently...(drumroll)...I also have a JOB! In the spirit of privacy, I won't share much except to say that it is a job I've dabbled with in the past, have considered doing in the future, and landed in the present practically by accident. I am going to teach...and with all that education has meant to and done for me, I am excited and proud to be a part of that process for someone else. So, yes, I am officially official...bells and whistles and all. Bring on the responsibility and the paycheck, because Mamma is ready!

I can hardly remember a time when I have felt so at home...at peace...happy. It is strange to feel so calm in these surroundings, to feel so blended, so comfortable with what at one time felt too uncomfortable to bear. So much of the change is due to what I've already mentioned: my independence, success, ability to take part in society in a way that feels meaningful, ability to look at my reflection with pride. So much of the change is also due to what I haven't mentioned...mainly, my marriage. I haven't blogged much about it and still feel limited in what I will disclose about it, but I can say this...the personal struggles I went through in coming to Norway almost broke us. I have never been so bound in depression that I couldn't see what it was doing to those around me, but, in the past 8 months, I have seen. I have seen clearly. And as quickly as I saw, I chose to own up and face it, make some big changes, have the tough discussions, and do whatever I could to restore what had been lost. It has been a long, painful road. Unabashed honesty, whether from others or simply with yourself, rarely comes easy. There's work yet to be done, but I am proud of the progress, proud of my husband, proud of myself. We are each great people, working hard through one of the most difficult and unexpected trials, and we are putting all our fears to shame. We are leaping over obstacles I once thought we'd never overcome. I am proud of that.

Marriage is special. Not because a piece of paper says it is, not because the loss of it means the loss of what you once had or the division of what you currently have. Marriage is special because it requires more of you than you ever believe you'll have to give. There will come a day when you have to look at your partner and choose to be with them, choose to stick it out when the sparks aren't sparkling and the shit hits the fan. There will be a day when you have to ask yourself some deeply personal and intimate questions, questions you have never considered. You'll have to ask them of your partner as well, even when you're terrified of the answers. There will come a day when you have to relearn each other, about the parts of yourself and your partner that you each hid when you were so passionately in love that all you wanted to do was talk about your commonalities and dance around those minor details that end up being massive differences. There will come a day when you realize you don't know as much as you thought you did, when you find yourself practically dating your partner again in order to regain your footing in the relationship. Marriage is special, because there is a lot of truth to the concept of falling in and out of love, over and over again, for a lifetime. To do that, marriage requires choosing each other, again and again, for a lifetime, whether or not you feel the same hormone-driven cravings of the first 6 months (and most often you won't). Marriage is special, because it requires you to learn how to be a "we" in a world where we are only ever taught how to be an "I". "We": it's a concept most people find simple, that many people crave and think will be their happy ending. The only happy endings that come easy are in Disney movies and certain massage parlors...for the rest of us, marriage is learning how to be yourself, while conceding a part of yourself so that your partner can be themselves too. And yet, conceding doesn't mean giving less of youself...there is no 50/50, there is 100/100...when you learn to balance all of that, I believe that's when success comes.

I grew up with an old-fashioned idea of marriage, one that involved raising the children, cleaning the house, and cooking the right foods (afterall, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?). And these past years, I have done that...taken care of our son, cleaned the house, cooked the food. A great chunk of the rest of my time was spent on me, what I missed, what I lacked, what I felt, what I thought. I missed, misread, ignored, and didn't hear a lot of what occurred outside my box. Marriage is special, because it requires you to read and hear and account for what goes on outside your box...it is now "our" box.

Stepping off my marriage soapbox, I can say I have learned a lot in the past 8 months, more than I can truly account for in all the years of my life. I am grateful to have learned it, to see how important we are, how important I am as one half of we, how important my husband is as an equally supported half. We each have a lot to offer and a lot to learn, but I am proud of us, proud to be a we, proud to sit in our box, in pretty little Norway.

Anyway, that's my tidbit for the day. I'm off to read my latest book...Anna Gavalda's Consolation. Beautiful piece of art and I can hardly tear myself away from it, even when her writing is overdramatic and confusing and lascivious. She's worth giving a shot, in case you're looking for your next indulgence.

I hope your recent ditties are equally as enchanting...thanks again for reading.

Puzzle Pieces

2011-09-05T21:51:00.000+02:00

I believe that everything happens for a reason. It's a simple thing to say, although the implications of it extend far if you take the time to think about it. I believe this because I see so much good come from things I once labeled as bad. The hardest obstacles I have met were always followed by a positive outcome and, for that reason, I coach myself through challenges by being open to the unforseen good that may surprise me later. I do not believe this in a religious context. I do not believe that my fate is sealed or predetermined. I do not pray, but rather, I speak to those whom I have lost along the way, whom I also believe are still with me and offer signs in helping me choose my paths in life. For as long as I can remember, I believed in this idea. But, while I believed this, somewhere along the way I forgot about the good that comes after, I forgot about the light at the end of the tunnel.

Hindsight is so clear. And it can leave us with a sense of regret of our own lack of prior awareness or initiative. I suppose that is where I sit now: on the opposite side of a very large wall, looking through the glass at what was, at what I was. I regret spending so much time in sadness and hardship with the changes I experienced in coming here. I regret not enjoying - or fully experiencing - the life of an expat. I regret losing two years of my youth to isolation and resentment. I regret the internal blame I sometimes felt towards motherhood as the root of my sadness and isolation. I regret placing a large emotional burden on a new marriage. I regret not owning up to my early diagnosis of post-partum depression and allowing myself to be treated. I regret thinking I was strong enough to fight against everything on my own.

Alas, regret is not a very productive feeling, aside from giving you the opportunity to work harder in moving forward. This year has been that process for me. I do feel better. I feel alive, awakened, as if a great haze has lifted, offering only sunshine behind it. That does not go to say that all my days are easy...they are not all easy. But I am present in the days - easy or not - and conscious of my choices and words in a way I hadn't been for a long time. I am excited about things that would have seemed a burden before. And while, early this year, I felt I had come to a breaking point, I now feel stronger and happier than ever. I am not out of the woods yet - I have relationships to mend and obstacles yet ahead in fully acclimating into society. But, life as I had known is transforming into something I don't think I can yet describe or understand - suffice it to say, the something is good. I am patiently waiting for good to become great.

The ball is rolling...I am no longer a SAHM. Baby C has been in barnehage for a month, so we have officially left that phase of our lives behind. It is a bittersweet thing, mostly sweet, as I watch him running away from me to go to "school" and see "the babies." At (now) two years old, he is fantastically happy and so safe within himself that he fears nothing - not my absense, not a new environment, not a challenge. What he reflects to me is the one good thing I feel I have accomplished in two years: parenting him. I may have been lost in many ways, but what I see in him, in the bond we share, is my affirmation of success.

I have been in Norwegian language courses for three weeks now and, yes, I will spare you the ache of reading anything from me in Norwegian at this point. My classmates and in-laws and Hubby are currently deciphering me - both in confusion and humor - and when I gain the courage, I'll share the love with you, as well. Hopefully it will be a bit more interesting than, "Hvor kommer Haifa fra?" Again, I carry a regret about my limited ability to speak in Norwegian. With these weeks of practice, what I am able to say and read and write in Norwegian far surpasses what I have learned in two years of living here. I can say, however, that two years has given me a strong ear for the language and therein can lie a problem. In my understanding, I have briefly fooled people into thinking I am better at the language than I am. It is in my speaking that you see the true defects. And that is ok, I own it and I'm working with it. And now I can tell you where Haifa comes from.

I suppose, as I long suspected, my hardest coming challenge will be a career. It is difficult - to say the least - to gain employment here without a full grasp of the language. You may be able to find a temp job or serve at a cafe, but to pursue a career, speaking Norwegian is just about the only option. I had my first interview this week and it went really well. I got some great feedback - both personally and professionally. What I also discovered is that I really do have a limited field to operate within professionally, since my career does not translate into the system. I left the interview feeling an odd mix of uplifted and downright tearful. Again, I have to remember...everything happens for a reason. I was great at my career. I loved it in a sense I can't explain, but it became a part of me. And I have to let it go. No anger, no resentment, no blame. I simply have to let that part of my life go. I am almost 30 years old and I am learning a new language in order to pursue a brand-new and currently-unknown career. I'm a little shaken by it.

As I have said, it is all a humbling experience, to lose yourself completely and then piece it all together into a reorganized puzzle, one you may not recognize, but one you may end up liking for the better. I am happier on this side of the wall, so while there are regrets, I don't stare too long through the glass. I choose strength and resilience and boundless opportunity - and maybe a little bit of luck for good measure. With my happy little crew, I choose forward.

So, anyway, that's what's new here...

Feeling On Top

2011-08-19T21:39:00.002+02:00

There's a lot to be grateful for. This week, I celebrated my 29th birthday and have been amazed at the thoughful recognition of it by those closest to me. I am excited about this year and about heading towards 30. Our beautiful home is looking more home-y each day; I feel comfortable here and my friends do as well, which always means the world. Baby C is happier than ever, spending his days playing and making friends, and nothing makes my day better than to see how fast he runs to hug me when I arrive each afternoon. My Norwegian language classes begin on Monday, which I'm very excited about, and I've spent the week feverishly applying for jobs, with a few responses that have left me hopeful in return. And as an added bonus, my interview in Circle of Mom's Top 25 Expat Mom Blogs feature is finally available. The full interview is posted below. All in all, a good week.

What inspired you to start blogging?

Outside of school and away from required essays, I was always an avid writer. As a little girl, if life became hard and confusing, I would crawl into the dark corners of my closet and hide within a magical world of words, where fear transformed into strength and pain into fairytales. And somewhere, in the far, dark corners of a storage warehouse hides that magical world of words, those years of poetry, lyrics, stories, and verbal exorcism.

Four years ago, I stood at a pivotal crossroad, watching a tempest of change hurling around me, I lost at its center. I realized it wasn't change I feared, but the fact that what I wanted to change most would have to come from within. So, I began by shifting my outward view inward and pouring change through my fingertips. Words became the shovels digging trenches, excavating my own dark corners. No longer hiding, I chose to delve deep, find meaning behind the emotions, and try to understand the magnitude and depth of why we choose each path we're on. I wanted to be stronger, learn more, become smarter, love others and myself as I never have, all through a path of complete honesty about who I am. And I wanted to share the journey in all it's intricacies.

It was during this time that I began searching for a new medium of expression, one in which I could share thoughts and ideas openly, receive feedback and insight, maybe offer a small piece of insight to someone else. Within a few weeks of channeling energy into this new outlet called blogging, I met my now-husband. My effort towards blogging has paralleled the growth of our relationship. This man, this beautiful man, was and is a major source of inspiration for me, both in terms of my writing and in my reflection upon myself, my life, my choices, my personal growth. He is my mirror; his reflection turns me inwards so that I'm forced to face what I hide from even myself and, in that direction, I abound onto paper. When Baby C arrived, I discovered a whole new level of inspiration to draw from. A new, pure and terrifyingly innocent reflection now stares me into unabashed honesty. I don't always write about each of them, but because they are so much a part of my heart, they are direct participants in all that comes from deep within and out into the words you read.

The truth is, this blog isn't just about being an expat. It is not a standard discussion about Norway and its food or culture or sights, although there's a little of that. It's not a daily rant of the little bits of my regular life, although there's a little of that too. It's about a woman treading uphill through her twenties, transitioning from supported adulthood into true independence, falling madly in love with a foreigner, experiencing the gifts and trials of motherhood, becoming a foreigner herself, discovering the innermost being, and moving full speed ahead through all life has to offer. Eventually, I do plan to talk more about Norway...it's a beautiful and fascinating country.

How did you become an expat family?

My dreams always included a life abroad, although I admit Norway wasn't what I pictured. I'm ashamed to confess that when I met my husband, I had to research Norway in order to make statements more interesting than, "Ugh...so yeah, vikings, right?" On the flip side, I'm sure my husband didn't grow up imagining he'd leave Norway to spend several years studying abroad in the Deep South. His Norwegian perspective on living in Alabama brings humor to a whole new level. Isn't it beautiful how life happens that way, how each road traveled is a doorway to great beginnings?

Our beginning is rather simple and ordinary: boy meets girl and the passionate love story ensues. Ours is complicated in that we are from opposite sides of the world. We have faced challenges that I was sure would break me and us: long distance, cultural differences, language mistranslations, personal misgivings. I thought a year spent with an ocean and six time zones separating us, as well as an indefinite idea of when we would see one another again, was the end of the beginning. But the impossible happened and suddenly I found myself standing in an airport, desperately trying to hide the panic and excitement as the man I'd loved and lost one year prior walked towards me. In the instant I saw him, I knew he'd kept my heart with him the whole time. My heart lived in Norway long before I did.

From there, life happened quickly, obscuring any sign of preparation or planning. Within six months of his return, we decided to move to Norway and begin our life together. Two weeks later, we were engaged and, as we were surprised to discover, preparing for a baby. In another three months, we were married and, in the six months to follow, I would quit my job, we would moved twice, Baby C would arrive under somewhat traumatic circumstances, and, without a moment of calm, we four (including puppy) would load our lives into 9 suitcases, board a plane, and move to Norway. We have lived here as a family going on two years and I'm looking forward to the many years to come. I may not have pictured this journey or this destination, but now I couldn't picture anything else.

What do you enjoy most about where you live?

I suppose what I enjoy most about living in Norway is the challenge. I'm accomplishing things - both large and small - that I've never done or imagined doing. I'm adjusting to a world I spent most of my life knowing very little about, letting go of things and ideas I once tied to myself as necessary, meeting people who have me questioning myself and everything I've known to be normal or accepted. I'm challenged by the weather, the language, the vast cultural differences that, at times, leave me feeling as if the scarlet "A" of American is stamped to my forehead. I'm challenged as a mother and learning to be the best mother I can in an environment where I must teach Baby C about things I'm not even sure I understand. I'm challenged in my marriage, because the passage of time never ceases to introduce to me something I have yet to know or understand about my Norwegian husband.

There is also a simplicity that I appreciate about the way of life here. There is a certain simplicity and rationality in the relationships I see existing and developing, a simplicity in what is valued, like good weather, a cup of tea in the warm sun, freshly baked boller (rolls) shared among friends, perpetual involvement in an array of physical activity. There is a safety and comfort in the lack of social violence and the pervasive level of government involvement (gasp...did an American just say that?), as well as the fact that such a level of involvement allows for an extraordinary amount of paid maternity and paternity leave, among many other benefits. It's difficult to explain what life is like when there is so little fear for the safety of your self and your family, when you know that you are healthy and will be well cared for should the unexpected occur. It creates a sort of calm, as if a blanket is always wrapped and protecting you. It's something I have only come to understand upon returning to the US, having that feeling diminish and the insecurity return.

There is also a happiness I see in people; it's laced with calm, knowledge, awareness, respect, and careful thought. The harsh, pitch-dark, endless nights of winter are followed by a few blissful months of an ever-present sun that envelopes you, seemingly drawing everyone out of hibernation and into an explosive birth of green life. This country's intense variation in weather and the required physical adjustments is part of what makes its people incredibly strong, resilient, dynamic, interesting. I find that I have much to learn from this country and those who have flourished here. While I love and miss things about the US, living in Norway has been one of the utmost rewarding experiences of my life thus far. I honestly hope the challenges and discovery never cease.

What do you enjoy least about where you live?

I suppose the easy answer is this: prices. No one kids when they talk about the expense of an average lifestyle here. Two years in and I'm still converting in my head, a devastating thing to do to your psyche as the dollar fluctuates wildly, never quite managing to be as strong as the Norwegian kroner. We have struggled to get off the ground financially and, with all the challenges, I think this is the one I enjoy least. It's not about the "stuff" you can have with money, but the things you can do with it and the fact that a lack thereof has limited our ability to fully participate in what most here are able to do. I'm looking forward to financial independence and the freedoms that come with that, to the experiences we will be able to have and introduce to our son.

On a deeper level, many of us immigrants are able to relate in how difficult we find building relationships here. Before we moved, my husband gave me an assessment of how people relate in the US (or at least the Deep South) versus Norway: southerners talk to anyone, telling life stories and intimate details to someone they've just met, only then to discover they dont really like each other or want to be friends. In Norway, he says, you get to know one another over several meetings, decide whether to become friends, and then (possibly) speak in such depth. Well, he's right and I find this challenge to be my biggest. I have been brought up with what I thought was a luxury: the ability to talk to anyone about anything. When a fellow patient at the doctor's office approached us to talk about our newborn and to share a detailed account of her daughter's delivery of twins, I wasn't surprised. It is our social norm to chat with the bank teller or stranger behind us in line at the market, discussing things that would have Norwegians feeling most uncomfortable and wondering if we'd had taken our medication. At home, I would easily smile, wave, and say hello to a passing stranger on the street, but to do so in Norway would land me on the cover of tomorrow's Dagbladet. I have to forcefully restrain myself and decidedly "smalk" (I may be southern, but oh! how I dislike "small talk"). And often I have to remember that only time can dictate whether there is a friendship, whether the conversation will progress past the current level. It is not a lack of friendliness, more a general sense of privacy and restraint, an awareness that we are strangers until we aren't. Many Norwegian dinners have been graced with my "open mouth, insert foot" moments, yet, thankfully, I am forgiven and invited to partake in the next. Forgiveness is a gift well-possessed here; afterall, "Ah, she is American."

Your 3 favorite posts:
http://neverlandranger.blogspot.com/2008/08/holding-hands-and-letting-go.html http://neverlandranger.blogspot.com/2008/08/100-things.html http://neverlandranger.blogspot.com/2010/10/dream-to-elysium.html

#OsLove

2011-08-10T12:56:00.004+02:00

So many wonderful things have happened in these weeks away from you, yet they seem small compared to the fact that, less than three weeks ago, Norway's most devastating tragedy brought a nation to its knees...and back up again. We were two hours outside of Oslo on the afternoon of July 22, driving into the mountains, excited about a beautiful weekend at the cabin, hiking, fishing, eating. Without warning, a radio announcement began to frantically describe a bombing in downtown Oslo at the government quarter, the building that houses the Prime Minister, among many others. At the time, there wasn't much known - the amount of devastation, how many were injured or killed, who or what had caused it. There was mention of the possibility of a gas leak and that no one should jump to conclusions, but somewhere, in the back of our minds, many of us drew slowly into the same fear: Al-Qaeda, terrorism.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to the news repeated again and again, speaking only when the shock filtered through in some unintelligible sentence. I called my mother, but the bombing had been so recent that the news hadn't reached the US yet...I knew it must mean that all of this was a mistake, a sick joke. It was the same thought I'd had the day I rode in a car, listening to a radio announcer detailing the planes striking the World Trade Center towers, detailing the deaths of those leaping from the highest floors. I was furious. I tried to call the radio station that day, to tell him what a sick joke that was, to create something so tragic and so impossible in his show. Yet, the impossible, the unfathomable had happened then...and now again, in Norway.

Shortly after arriving at the cabin, my brother in-law wandered into the kitchen and, with a pale and empty stare said, "They're saying there's been a shooting on an island. They estimate 10-20 are killed." While we unpacked and ate dinner together that evening, the news played on the radio in the background and we sat, mostly in silence, looking away through the windows, lost in our thoughts, or around at one another in disbelief. There were no tears, not yet, as if everything was in slow motion, the blade barely piercing the skin, the wound not yet fully created or opened, the sensations not yet traveling through each nerve, the pain not yet fully felt, but the body and mind frozen in fear and anticipation of all that would come.

Overnight, and by early the next morning, the shooter had been captured on the island and a better assessment of the damage was being revealed. Reports detailed the island, a small island not far north of Oslo, Utøya, where hundreds of teenagers and young adults had gathered as part of the AUF Labour Party. They were to spend a ceremonial weekend, as was tradition, discussing politics, how to improve society. It was to be a peaceful weekend, a happy weekend, and it turned into the darkest Norway has ever seen. We heard 40 dead...wait, 60...no, 80...the counts and estimates climbed by the hour. And at the center of the darkness stood one man. One man. One young, handsome, average, blond-haired, blue-eyed Norwegian with a powerful mind, a radical belief, a horrific plan, and an empty heart. Anders Behring Breivik surrendered to police as they surrounded him at Utøya, admitted to being in connection with the bombing and to working alone. Within a few hours of each attack, the one man responsible was carried away, trailed by the bodies of children.

The rest of the weekend leading to Sunday, we made attempts at normalcy, but the time was punctuated with silence and reflection, sadness, and an underlying anxiety to return to our beloved Oslo, to feel the weight in its entirety, to be connected to those who must have felt helpless in their grief. Hubby and I drove the hours back to Oslo, bought flowers and candles, and made our way into the city. We parked near downtown and began to wander the streets. Alleys and roads were blocked off and guardsmen stood at the barricades like warriors guarding a loved one's grave. Behind them were buildings with shattered glass, debris scattered through the streets, signs and lights toppled, empty cars. It looked like a deserted town, yet in some of those buildings were rescuers, digging, calling out, desperately trying to uncover those hidden or fallen. In front of the guards, many wandered aimlessly, stopping to stare. I caught a guardsman's eye...there was a tear hanging. I think he was trying to hold on to it. At our feet were children kneeling at a bed of roses and candles. Fittingly, the rain came as the tears of Norwegians began to flood the cobblestone.

We made our way to what has become the pinnacle expression of grief and desperation, love and community: Domkirken. There was a moment here, a short moment that transitioned overnight into something much bigger and broader, but began with the helpless cry of each individual as they lay their roses and photographs and candles. A mother left letters in hopes of her child being found, alongside a small teddy bear. Friends placed photographs with messages of "Dear ____, we miss you so much. Please come back. We love you." Fathers wrapped their arms around their families and cradled them as they stared ahead, realizing what was now possible in the safest of worlds. It was this moment where we each grieved as individuals, where we each felt our hearts placed alongside the letters and photographs and teddy bears, where we understood the impact of one man's decision to strip so many families of that filled place at the dinner table. Some of these children were 15 years old. The senselessness, the cruelty was so unbearable to me that I kneeled next to strangers, tears falling, and contemplated prayer. Even for someone not bound by religion, how can you not contemplate prayer in that moment? This was the moment for me when the blade met it's full depth, when the sensations flooded through, and I began to really feel the pain. This was, I think, that moment for many.

All of this is natural, the grief, the gathering, the site. I imagine, in the days and weeks and months following September 11, 2001, these were the images most often seen in and around where the tragedies occured. What happened the day after I visited Domkirken, on Monday, was as astounding and more natural than anything I have ever witnessed. There was to be a walk, a march, from Oslo's City Hall and through the streets of downtown. Everyone was asked to bring a red rose. As we went to purchase our roses, the stores were sold out of roses and out of flowers almost altogether. We managed to get two small bouquets of orange and red carnations and made our way downtown. As we walked, we were not alone. We were shoulder to shoulder with seemingly everyone in Norway. On main streets, cross streets, alleys, parking lots, people flooded in droves, walking almost silently, all heading towards City Hall. When we arrived closer, we could see City Hall, but quickly found we would never be able to edge our way through the shoulders crammed in lines and rows before us. Groups of tall, black men dug their way through, passing out signs and stickers reading "I Love Oslo" or "#OsLove", taping them to every post and pole along the way. There was a soft murmuring through the crowds as people waited and waited for the walk to begin. And then...silence. Without any direction or warning, almost 200,000 people lifted their flowers into the air in unison. It was all I could see...red roses, carnations, orchids, lillies. All I could hear was the gentle breath of falling tears. A man spoke...so many people had come, the support and love so great, that streets were already full all of the way to the other side of downtown. There was nowhere to walk. All we could do was stand and raise our flowers. So that's what we did, all 200,000 of us.

Even now, I find that the grief is palpable, the tears are still so easily drawn. The Bishop who spoke at Oslo's Memorial Service said, 'Our country is so small that every man fallen is a brother or a friend.' I may not be Norweigan, I may have only lived in and loved this country for a few, short years, but I have felt each of the fallen as though they were a brother or a friend. I have felt the loss, understood the loss of each mother and father. I have felt the anger towards a lone man, a stranger...the same anger that led me to hope for vengeance after 9/11. But what I have also felt, also seen, is love shown in a way I never thought possible. It was said first by a young girl, by the friend of a survivor of Utøya. It was then repeated by the Prime Minister in his memorial speech, by CNN and countless sources since: "Om en mann kan vise saa mye hat, tenk hvor mye kjaerlighet vi all kan skape sammen." If one man can show so much hate, think how much love we all together can create.

The lives lost in both attacks now total 77. It's a small number compared to some of history's events. In Norway, by shear ratio, it is greater percentage than the amount of lives lost on 9/11. Numbers tell you nothing. For Norway, whether 10 or 77 or 200, the loss and the manner of loss is a powerful strike. It is met with a combination of pain and grief, a calm and conscious resolve to stand in unison against anyone who tries to destroy the greater good or the ideals of the country, and a sadness at the loss of innocence, at the view ahead that looks slightly altered from the view before. For a long time, I walked in a security blanket, feeling that nothing so harmful could happen here. It was Utopian. Now, I find myself a little fearful of places at night, a little more conscious of locking my doors, holding Baby C's hand a little more along the walk...as if the real world has finally crept into Norway and shown us possibilities we hadn't imagined before. Yet, with a small amount of fear, the loss, the community, the love is so powerful that Norway seems to me to be the best country in the world. I am honored and blessed to be here, to raise a son here, to have family and friends here, to hopefully grow old in this beautiful place.

The flowers and candles and letters and teddy bears still surround the church...they have grown out into the streets, where barricades have prevented the sea from stretching any further. As things do, the sea has adapted; the flowers are piled high, stretching upwards and over edges of the barricades. The sea is parted by the doors of the church but floods forth again on the opposite side. As you wander through Oslo, you will find small puddles and ponds of memorial decor at the Royal Palace, the University, the tiger in front of the Central Station, poking out of holes of rock-walled buildings, the Fortress, City Hall, the Nobel Peace Center and countless other places. The rains and heat have come and gone, blending the love and messages and tears of thousands of people into one melted mass of potpouri. You will still find candles burning. Each day, you find new messages and see new tears. The 77 missing from us are felt and thought of each moment of every day, by a family member or a friend or a stranger. We are all one and the same.

#OsLove, indeed.

There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.

U-Haul'd and Overhauled

2011-07-05T23:16:00.000+02:00

In one week, I feel like my whole life has been overhauled.

After a weekend of boxing and loading and unloading and cleaning, our beloved first apartment in Oslo is no more. I shed a few tears looking at the empty space, the space where we watched our little guy sit, then stand, then walk, then talk for the first time. I thought about the rollercoaster I endured personally in this space and the changes our marriage endured in this space as well. The tears were bittersweet and, although I have been happy and excited to move forward, a part of me will always cherish our tiny home in Majorstua.

The move is now complete...what lies ahead is coated in cardboard and ducktape. Hubby has been working incredibly late hours these weeks, so the Superwoman in me has spent long hours unpacking, decorating, organizing, building furniture, hauling furniture...all on my own (while tending fully to a two-year old). I am exhausted and sore, but happy with the progress. Hubby hasn't set foot in the new place since Sunday and will be incredibly surprised to see how much is accomplished. Really, I am working overtime at this for him...I want him to walk into a beautiful home, not another place he has to work once he's taking time away from his current work. I am officially down to less than ten boxes and, with all the decorating and organizing I am doing, I think I may actually have a little Martha Stuart in me (hopefully the less criminal part).

Baby C has been amazing - incredibly patient (and helpful!). He likes to carry bags and empty boxes from room to room with me. I think he actually feels like his life has been overhauled too...in a good way. He is really spending time in his new room, playing with his toys, looking through the drawers, staring at the pictures on the wall. I think he knows that, for the first time, he has a space all to himself. I have seen the overhaul in each of us, in how we are together, even just in these few days. We have taken long walks in the woods together, had picnics in our new yard, sunbathed on our patio while we have a "school session" of discussing colors, shapes, numbers, animals, etc. We have gardened together, cooked together, unpacked together, and, at the end of the busy morning, Baby C is happily running to his new room to grab his bear and snooze for a couple hours. And in the moments we sit and rest together, he looks at me with these big, beautiful eyes, hugs and kisses me like I hung the moon. He is such an amazing kid. He makes me feel fuzzy inside.

This move is one piece of a series of things that are finally falling into place, most of which I have been waiting on for almost two years. Baby C will start barnehage in less than a month, which frees me to finally begin Norwegian language classes in just over a month. But, I have to say, it isn't just about pushing him out into the world so that I can have freedom to do other things. I can really see his eager intent to understand and learn and speak and communicate. I see his excitement about other people and children. I see him growing up. For months, I have been aching with the thought that he is missing something, that he needs more socialization and learning than I am able to offer him. This week, we visited his new barnehage and I absolutely L.O.V.E. it. The women are amazing, the children are adorable, varied by ethnicity, race, and capabilities, and Baby C already seems to feel comfortable. In fact, we are returning tomorrow for another half day, so that he gets to know the place and people better. I really feel good about this system. If we were to stay in this location, he would remain at this barnehage, with his particular caregiver, until he was 6 years old. As I write this, I picture our walk there yesterday: Baby C running in front of me as fast as his legs could take him, screaming "SCHOOL!" the whole way. Good vibes all around.

In the coming weeks, I will be looking for a part-time job to begin while I am taking classes and voila'! I will soon be able to say that I am fully acclimated into the world of being an expat and Norwegian resident. Baby C will soon get to fully play out his Norwegian childhood. It may burn a little on the uphill stretch, but god, the view is great from here.

On another note, Happy 4th of July! In all the craziness, we missed the wonderful and much-anticipated 4th celebration at Frognerparken. Then again, there is always next year!

Juni Eventyr

2011-06-29T15:10:00.001+02:00

My brain is exhausted. The time spent writing this blog will be tacked on to the many hours today that I've spent intensely focused on an intricate and challenging piece of writing. Thanks to you, I had a reason to be working hard. Thanks to you, I just completed my interview as one of the Top 25 Expat Mom Blogs that will be featured next month by Circle of Moms! I'm honored and grateful and unbelievably excited...thank you! It should be available soon, so I will link to the site once it is.

I haven't blogged in a couple of weeks, but I've had good reason. Partly, I've wanted to use this time to give careful thought to the interview questions (apparently, the feature will be available to approximately 6 million viewers) and felt that writing elsewhere would distract me. I've also been incredibly busy this month meeting with old friends, making new friends, exploring new activities and places in Oslo with Baby C, preparing to move to another (larger!) apartment, getting prepared for Baby C to start barnehage and for me to begin Norwegian language courses (yes, we really have lived here almost two years), and using my little bits of free time to continue April and May's endeavors of working on me. Alas, I neglect the blog when life happens quickly...apologies.

This month has been wonderful and full of adventures; July looks to be just as busy and tons more fun. Ahhh, summer. We will be settled into the new place after the weekend and, although it's further outside the city than I am used to, I think it has all the perfect makings of a beautiful home. I am thoroughly excited about it. In the meantime, I thought I would share a few photos from this month's shindigs and I will return soon to continue the updates, most likely after the move and a couple week's worth of perfect Norwegian vacation.

Please Vote for Me!

2011-06-06T10:32:00.000+02:00

Today is the last day to vote for the Top 25 Expat Mom Blogs! Over the past two weeks, I have been floored by the amount of support and the number of votes for my site. Thank you...it means so much! Currently, I'm holding a spot in the Top 10, but in order for that to continue through the competition's end, I'll need your votes today, as well.

So, if you are stopping by my site today, please take the time to visit the competition through Circle of Moms and cast your vote! Afterwards, take the time to read through the other contestants...there are some great blogs out there! Thank you again and I hope you continue to enjoy reading!

Can We Talk?

2011-06-02T01:21:00.003+02:00

Can we talk?

Can we sit and have a cup of coffee, ignore the world for a while, and get down and dirty in conversation?

I don't want to chat. I don't want to talk about work emails and feeding schedules, late nights and laundry.

Can we, just you and me, grab intimacy by the horns and throw out all those ugly truths that we cover up with our secondary emotions and busy lives?

Can you tell me if you're carrying around regret? I am. What would it be like if we admitted all the things we wish we could have done differently?

If you woke up tomorrow to find that you had lost everything you find important, what would you have lost?

Do you feel safe enough with me to share your most private and embarrassing moments? I once glued my butt cheeks together and then to the bottom of a scalding bathtub for 45 minutes, in a terrible at-home waxing attempt. How about now?

Late at night, when the world is quiet and dark, when the conversations are over and the TV is off, what emotions lie next to you and cradle you to sleep?

Have you mastered the art of forgiveness? What does forgiveness really mean to you? Whom have you not forgiven?

When someone hurts you, how do you treat them afterwards? Do you recognize when you've done wrong? How do you apologize?

What was the last thing that made you laugh aloud and with whom were you sharing that moment? Was it the person you wanted?

What drives you, motivates you, inspires you? What scares the hell out of you?

Do you ever wonder if the fault you place on others belongs closer to home? Do you intend to change that?

What dreams do you have that you're too scared to chase? What dreams feel too impossible to even consider?

How much of an attempt do you put towards questioning yourself - your own thoughts and feelings and actions? Do you take the time to see whether they are rational, healthy, self-destructive, hurtful to those around you? Do you put the effort into really knowing yourself and the type of person you want to be?

What type of person do you want to be?

Are you happy?

Are you brave? Brave enough to take risks? Brave enough to throw everything on the line when you're completely unsure? Brave enough to test your own limits? Brave enough to break the mold and abandon everything that feels comfortable and safe to you? Are you brave enough to choose against failure, even when failure seems like the only option? Are you brave enough to give of yourself past the point at which you think you have anything to give? Are you brave enough to readily, assuredly, honestly, passionately be yourself?

I don't want another twenty-question survey about your favorite movie or whether chocolate or vanilla is your preference. Can we just talk?

Farewell May, Hello June!

2011-06-01T00:43:00.001+02:00

There's something magical about May in Norway...between syttende mai and the start of spring, it seems like there's an air of rebirth, the aura of a new year's start. Almost overnight, the sun appears, green dominates the black and white landscape of the previous seven months, droves of people appear with smiles on their faces. The world returns, dancing to the music, basking in the ever-present light of this time of year, refusing to sleep until the darkness appears again. I love May in Norway...and this year's was just as magical for me as the last.

Expat Mom Blog Competition

2011-05-29T23:24:00.002+02:00

Circle of Moms social network is hosting a contest to find the Top 25 Expat Mom Blogs...and thanks to all my wonderful friends & supporters, I'm currently in the Top 20! I'm up against some amazing women & bloggers, so unless your votes continue, my spot can easily change.

The competition ends June 6th, 2011, so if you are a fan and enjoy following me, I ask you to please visit this site and help vote me into the Top 10! You can vote once per day, so please come visit and vote again. Thank you so much! I'm feeling the love!

What Are You Reading Today?

2011-05-29T23:14:00.002+02:00

There are these moments...moments where you feel calm and happy, at peace with yourself and who you are becoming. There are moments when you look around you and everything brings a smile to your face - the sun, the rain, the flowers, the people, children, barking dogs, the smell of your neighbor's cooking, a clean home, the presence of the people you love, a simple smile. There are moments when the trivial struggles that might normally change your focus or knock you off your pedestal can't bring you down. For me, these moments arrive when I have surrounded myself with the perfect combination of music, dancing, reading, writing, time with the loves of my life, support from those I look up to. Norway is beautiful today and I'm happy to be home. I'm in a moment...a good moment...a moment that started with a little bit of sunshine and a good book.

What does it for you? What brings you to your best moments? Read this and see if it doesn't inspire you to find out...

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

- The Invitation by Oriah

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 30

2011-04-20T21:35:00.000+02:00

A picture of you today and 20 goals you plan to accomplish:

1. I plan to continue to focus on improving myself - my health, my strength, my relationships, my hobbies - and chasing my dreams.

2. I plan to have a healthy, loving, kind, honest relationship with my husband where we grow both together and individually...for the rest of our lives.

3. I plan to be an incredible mother - and friend - to our son...always present, always supportive, always able to say and show how much I love him.

4. I plan to live in Norway and succeed there - in learning the language, in a career, in my relationships.

5. I plan to be a little more softspoken and a lot more open-minded.

6. I plan to write a book.

7. I plan to read more, sleep more, exercise more, and worry less.

8. I plan to find a career path that, while it may be new, excites me.

9. I plan to be calm, no matter the storm.

10. I plan to become more active in my community, to network, to branch out and meet new people.

11. I plan to take my dog on a long walk everyday - because she needs it and so do I.

12. I plan to lock my knees when things get hard...I will not buckle.

13. I plan to save money, to focus a little more on the importance of stabilizing the future instead of spending now.

14. I plan to be the kind of person that leaves people with a smile on their face each time we talk.

15. I plan to focus on similarities instead of differences - in many aspects of my life.

16. I plan to spend more time honoring my mother and the amazing woman that she is, telling her as often as I can how much I love her and showing her by teaching my son the lessons she offered me.

17. I plan to practice the art of forgiveness, remembering that I too am falliable and require forgiveness as well.

18. I plan to laugh.

19. I plan to make a date night once a week.

20. I plan to repeat this phrase to myself: "In the end, all you really own is your integrity."

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 29

2011-04-20T07:11:00.000+02:00

In this past month, what have you learned?

I have learned too many things this month to completely explain, so suffice it to say this:

1. I am my own worst critic.
2. I actually can - and do - have a filter between my brain and my mouth.
3. What I think and how I feel and how I act is completely within my control.
4. How anyone else thinks or feels or acts is completely out of my control.
5. Emotions ebb and flow, but marriage and working through the difficult parts of marriage is a choice.
6. My past does not and will not dictate my future.
7. My husband and son are far more important to me than trivial pursuits.
8. Taking care of yourself can make a world of difference.
9. Happiness is a choice.
10. How you treat people is a reflection of how you see yourself.
11. Norway is home.
12. I like myself more and more every year - namely because, even at my worst, I learn to grow.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 28

2011-04-19T06:49:00.002+02:00

A photo of you from last year and now: how have you changed since then?

April 2010

April 2011

There have been many changes in one year - almost too many to fully grasp or explain. A year ago, I was a newlywed of just one year; I was a new housewife and a new mother, tending to a 7-month old; I was eagerly, albeit impatiently, waiting for legal status to remain in Norway; I was trying to pick up a new language; I was actively helping Hubby search and interview for jobs; I was trying to make our new, too-expensive apartment into a home. As we had only arrived in Norway six months prior, I was also still getting to know a new family while grieving the distance of my own, beginning to make new friendships, and still learning to find my way in a new city, new culture, new world. In all of these changes of last year, I was struggling immensely. I have many wonderful photographs to match many wonderful experiences and I can tell that I look tired in most of them. Inside, each daily stress felt monumental when added to the pile of existing change. I was sad, overwhelmed, insecure, angry, lonely, scared...I spend a lot of time wallowing in these emotions, taking for granted the wonderful things that I already had and was gaining.

And one year later, here I sit...stronger than I have ever been. I feel accomplished, in some weird way, for having survived what, at one time, felt so impassable. The relationships and friendships I have built are invaluable to me. Each has taught me something, opened my eyes in some way, helped me learn to be "at home," and I believe these relationships will last a lifetime. I have grown as a woman, as a mother, and am much more understanding of my role with Baby C. He looks at Hubby and I as the biggest, strongest, wisest, safest, most loving people that exist. I can see in his eyes that we can do no wrong...at least not that he can yet understand. I take my role as a mother very seriously...and am much less overwhelmed by it now (probably due, at least in part, to the sleep I am finally getting.) Baby C is my world, as much as we are his, and I am now using each day to try and show that to him. I have gained a great understanding for my role as a wife, as a partner, how to be a fair partner, what marriage really is and can be. In gaining this understanding, I have also come to realize how many ways I have failed in that role - how many faults I can have as a wife and a partner, how important it is to acknowledge and work to repair damage that can be done along the way, how important it is to work on what baggage we each bring into the marriage. And in moving out of last year's "funk," I have finally been able to see what life and certain events have been like for others: my husband, my son, in-laws, friends. This newfound awareness is progressing daily and is quite a humbling experience.

A year ago, I was writing about my lack of focus, my search to find "me," my need for inspiration...well, in facing what could have been or could be the most monumental and devastating of all changes, what I'd been searching for appeared. My inspiration was in front of me all the time: my family. I have loved them with all my heart, but not to the best of my ability, because I let my emotions paralyze me for so long. Somehow, the weight has lifted and continues to lift; what is left behind is freedom, energy, awareness, strength, happiness, love. Faced with reality, with possibilities that are unfathomable to me, I have awakened to all that is meaningful and true and important. And that's a lot to gain in one year.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 27

2011-04-18T19:05:00.000+02:00

Why are you doing this challenge?

This challenge has been a form of therapy for me: getting back to what's important, focusing on the things in my life I want to pursue more or let go of, remembering what makes me "me." I have been using every possible outlet to do this - reading, writing, exercise, sleep, long talks, long periods of silence. And this blogging challenge has been just another way to help me find my happy place, from within.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 26

2011-04-17T17:27:00.000+02:00

Places you want to visit before you die:

I think a list of places I DON'T want to visit would be much shorter, but let's see if I can narrow my focus just a bit...

1. Beirut, Lebanon
2. Paris
3. Czech
4. Masai Mara in Kenya
5. A full exploration of Scandinavia
6. Grand Teton Range
7. Dingle Peninsula, Ireland
8. New Zealand
9. Iceland
10. Brazil
11. Machu Picchu
12. Patagonia
13. Antarctica
14. Greece
15. Bali
16. Auschwitz
17. Tibet
18. Bhutan
19. Istanbul
20. Mandalay

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 25

2011-04-16T20:50:00.000+02:00

What would I find in your bag?

Nothing too wild, I imagine. But, for the blog's sake, I'll be specific:
1. Wallet
2. Makeup
3. Deodorant (a girl can never smell too good)
4. Gucci Rush perfume or Gardenia body spray
5. Sunglasses
6. A camera
7. Cigs (yes, a vice I'm fully intent on squashing)
8. Probably a diaper and baby snack or two
9. Earrings
10. Pens
11. An emory board
12. A cell phone - or two

It's a wonder I can't ever find what I'm looking for...

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 24

2011-04-15T20:40:00.000+02:00

What is something you crave?

This view...

Collecting little treasures...

A happy baby...

A little peace and quiet, with a fishing pole...

And my beautiful family...

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 23

2011-04-14T04:42:00.000+02:00

What makes you different from everyone else:

Geez, are any of these questions meant to be simple?  This sounds like an interview question - like I'm supposed to "sell myself" to you. Well, a simple answer would be: I don't think I possess any one quality that makes me so different from anyone else. I suppose we're all different by the level of variations in the qualities we have.

In a more complicated sense, a few of my variations probably go something like this:

I'm a perpetual thinker. I don't think my mind sleeps when I do. Call it worrisome, over-analytical, obsessive - and all, to some degree, would probably be accurate. My life has been a series of steps, all of which I've analyzed in order to realize which were the good steps or the bad. It can be mistaken for "living in the past," but that's not it. I don't want to live in the past - I want to fully understand the past so that I can consciously move into the future. If there's a life lesson to be learned in something, I want to learn it as quickly as I can, repair what can be repaired, and grow into the next phase of life as a better, more aware individual.  I always want to be better - feel better, think better, act better, be healthier, be kinder, have better relationships. To do that, as hard as it is, requires constant self-analysis. Often, I've found that my analysis comes after the decisions, after the mistakes, after the downfalls - to me, this is both a product of my age and inexperience. In all of this perpetual thinking, I've spent most of my life thinking the worst before the best - again, I think this is a product of my age and, unfortunately, my experience. For the first time in my life, I've recently become aware of the fact that I have complete control over my thoughts and emotions. This may not be news to you, but for me, it has been an astounding revelation; it has changed my entire perspective on my life, my being, my moving to Norway, my marriage, and my reaction to life's daily stressors. It is in these times of revelation that I become aware of the fact that my ability to self-analyze and achieve growth through it is a powerful factor for me. Maybe it makes me unique, but regardless, I like this part of me.

I am an incredibly passionate person, in all senses of the word. Whatever emotions I feel, I feel and express them with intensity. Presumably, this is easy to recognize in the way I write. I also love with intensity, although I must say that this relationship, this marriage, has been, by far, the most intense - and the most loving - I've ever experienced. I am driven by that which inspires me to feel strong emotions. And, admittedly, I am somewhat programmed to be driven to anger quickly. The more recent years of my life have been my years of training and taming this part of myself. I don't want to become a less passionate person. What I want is to be able to feel and express every emotion with calmness, kindness, gentleness.  I recently read an example that detailed how we each rest on a scale of emotions in the shape of a cross (no religious interpretation intended here). At the north end exists sadness and depression, while happiness exists on the south end. On the west end, you have anxiety, while towards the east you have anger. The center of this cross is calmness. Our goals tend to be a movement between extremes: when we try to avoid being sad, we think we must be happy when, in reality, all we really need to be is calm. Example: if our house is burning down, we don't have to feel happy about it, but we also don't have to be utterly depressed and devastated. We can simply be calm. In this discovery, I have realized the the majority of my reactions in anger actually stem from anxiety or from a fear of feeling anxiety. It's a small discovery, but it opens a multitude of doors for me. Knowing that anxiety is the more present - or avoided - emotion allows me to examine all the things that may cause me to feel anxious.  Anyway, without dropping a large amount of my own personal psychoanalysis here, I can say that one small discovery leads to another and another. As passionate as I may be, I want to learn to be passionate and calm.

I'm starting with the man in the mirror

I'm asking him to change his ways

And no message could have been any clearer

If you want to make the world a better place

Take a look at yourself and make a change

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 22

2011-04-13T02:59:00.001+02:00

Picture from your day:

Baby C and I spending a day in the sun, storing up as much vitamin D as possible!

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 21

2011-04-12T00:47:00.000+02:00

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

1. My first wish would be for happiness, success, good health, and continued growth in my marriage, parenting, career, family relationships, and friendships. I don't want to wish away struggles and difficult choices, because it is through experiences - and sometimes bad choices - that we learn and grow the most. I do wish that in each of these sectors of my life, bad choices can be recognized in time to offer great experiences and the blossoming of unconditional love.

2. My second wish would be for my son to have all of his needs met; to live a long, healthy, happy, successful life; to feel loved and cherished and welcomed into every part of this world; to have enough desires met for him to be happy and enough unmet for him to learn dedication and determination; to learn communication and humility, patience and kindness, and to treat those around him with love and admiration; to feel strength through the most difficult of life's moments and to know that he has two strong, loving parents to support him always; to have passion about whatever he chooses and the confidence to chase whatever dreams he chooses; to love someone else - a partner and a child - with the same depth that he and his father are both loved.

3. My third wish would be to see, in my lifetime, the final disappearance of any and all inhumane and evil acts upon others, including, but not limited to, war, genocide, terrorism, rape, child molestation, racism, extremism, persecution, violence, greed, corruption, and theft.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 20

2011-04-11T20:20:00.000+02:00

Nicknames you have and why you have them:

Can I skip this one? My nicknames are lame and completely obvious once you know my name. For privacy purposes, I plead the 5th.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 19

2011-04-10T19:19:00.000+02:00

Plans/dreams/goals you have:

I guess I was a little premature in posting this one in March, but if you haven't read it, I've got my whole, long list compiled here.

30 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 18

2011-04-09T02:57:00.000+02:00

Someone you would want to switch lives with for a day and why:

This list could be a long one. I find some people so interesting, so confusing, so misinterpreted, so adored, that, given the chance, I think it would be fun to step in their shoes and see their true perspectives on life and on themselves.

First person that would come to mind I think, at least for women, is a given: Oprah. Who wouldn't want a day to be her, fully understand her, feel the passion she has for life and the world and people around her, carry the weight of her responsibility, and, let's face it, share the wealth? She is a teacher among the greatest of teachers, one of the most powerful and inspirational people of our lifetime.

Second person would probably be Sarah Palin, but for almost the exact opposite of reasons. I would really like to get inside that head of hers and figure out why I can't see what so many apparently see in her. No doubt she has a following, but for the life of me, I am incapable of understanding the draw...other than pure amusement. Maybe if I could be her for a day, I could understand, if nothing else, what she intends to say when the words come out sounding utterly ridiculous.

Other than these two, I'll make it easy by clumping the rest into a group: I would love to spend a day getting to know and understand, in the truest sense, the people closest to me.