Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

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A piece of land

September 17, 2012

We have bought our first lifetime warranty tools. A fork and a spade. They are made of beautiful wood, with metal that peels itself along the wood in exactly the right diameter. We shall build a yurt. Or a straw bale house. And today I have read about working horses, and how much they drink. We must always make sure our horse will have enough water about, and lots of places to graze with new herbs and grass on the edge. We will make slow, resourceful decisions. We will breathe fresh air when we wake up in the morning. We will still hold each other’s hands when we fall asleep. Every flower, every vegetable and fruit planted on the way will contribute to finding and growing this place together – for us and for the generations that will follow, still digging with the lifetime spade. I love you so. Anne

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The human heart

February 14, 2012

The human heart has a mass of between 250 and 350 grams and is about the size of a fist. It is located anterior to the vertebral column and posterior to the sternum.

 

It is enclosed in a double-walled sac called the pericardium. The superficial part of this sac is called the fibrous pericardium. This sac protects the heart, anchors its surrounding structures, and prevents overfilling of the heart with blood.

 

The outer wall of the human heart is composed of three layers. The outer layer is called the epicardium, or visceral pericardium since it is also the inner wall of the pericardium. The middle layer is called the myocardium and is composed of cardiac muscle which contracts. The inner layer is called the endocardium and is in contact with the blood that the heart pumps. Also, it merges with the inner lining (endothelium) of blood vessels and covers heart valves.

 

The heart below is embroidered. It looks like a ball of wool with two willow tree like wings on either side. I am imagining my real “change of heart” since I have known you to look something as airborne and delicate as this. And when it touches yours, it trembles just like yours does sometimes.

 

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gnarly old trees

February 13, 2012

I pass a lot of them every day. They are on the Downs. They are just by the roadside. They sit in meadows and on top of hills. They surround cows and sheep, and sometimes deer. Some of them carry fruit. Others leaves. Some others, again, carry only themselves. They heave their branches just above your head. They show signs of very old age. A life like theirs is a life of gratitude, love, serenity and freedom to grow.

One day, I would like to be one of these old trees. A small one, with lots of gnarly branches, weathered and with many circles of tree life in a strong trunk. My roots will have reached out to yours for a long time. They will have found yours, slightly younger roots but with as many gnarly branches and slightly lighter leaves in the late summer. Our roots will have embraced each other, they will be lying next to, on top of and underneath each other. They will have created some more gnarly bits with each other, and their bark will be the space for many birds to nest in.

We will be like I once read about an ancient forest somewhere in North America. The roots of the trees are so entwined with each other that they have created one of the largest living organisms on this planet. They nurture, give space to and allow any living creature to rest in its shade, to drink from the raindrop leaf cups, and to gather wood for small fires.

Until then, there is much life to be had and much growth to be enjoyed together. And always, the beginning and purpose of everything is to love and to be loved. Du hast mein Herz. Ich habe dein Herz.

 

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origami cuttings

October 3, 2011

sometimes i wish i could grow an origami tree. take a beautiful sheet of paper and, by way of folding it over and over yet, turn it into whatever i would like to grow in our gardens. if i was in a greenhouse, folding paper along tight creases at ideal temperatures and light conditions, i might find myself measuring the humidity and the probabilities of snow over the coming days.

for paper bends and twists, crinkles and waves as it meets different weather conditions.

i might want to preserve my piece of paper, always having the tree in mind that i aim to grow. it must have leaves of a certain shape, the trunk should be sturdy enough to hold up the crown and the many fruit that this tree ought to grow. all the time, i am trying to leave the paper on a piece of natural driftwood we found on the beach. leave it to let it be snowed on or catch lots and lots of rays of sun and see what creases it might develop on its own. this sheet of paper has the power to fold itself, to become something that i cannot conceive of, neither now nor here. for i cannot look outside myself and all the measurements I deem necessary to grow this imagined tree.  i must remind myself of the powers of an origami tree.

and of the powers of origami cuttings. i would like to take cuttings of your tree, of the many beautiful flowerbuds and new stalks, of the roots grown in soil from up north and from way east, so we can grow a whole forest together. a forest that lives with humidity as well as snow. a forest that grows all by itself.

with a little yacht

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those glasses

July 5, 2011

Seeing the world for what it is can be a challenging task. First of all, what is it? I pondered on many ideas of what it is to me, what it is in general, what it is in reality. Neither of those are a true mirror of “what it is”. So I have taken to putting on glasses that let me see the world as I would like to see it. As a miracle. As something eternally good. As something that remains mysterious and surprising, even though humankind is doing its best to try and find ways to explain itself and how it came about in this world. It is the mystery, that which will always remain unnegotiable, undescribable, unfound which these glasses make me – not see but feel.

Wearing these glasses has always seemed as something I eventually wouldn’t be able to sustain. For there is no defence when I see the world in such ways. I need to come to it unsuspecting, blinking and soft like a newborn. Yet, there are very few newborns amongst the adult world. Whether in business or amongst social circles, we tend to build barriers, hold grudges, fight, employ tactics and think and speak and act after our own benefit. We educate ourselves as we have been educated. We must then take off our newborn glasses to step out into the “real” world.

I was told what it looks like. I may have experienced what other people see. And I am quietly fighting to keep my glasses. Be without. I know now why it has been worth it.

It is these glasses that I recognise you with.

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white dots

June 28, 2011

There are white dots everywhere. They are small and cool. They sit with me in the bathtub and wiggle like little eebies. They have a rather soft surface and can be squeezed to a line shape. They are a little bit like fish, really.

 

Why does everything have to make sense? Idleness, procrastination or nonsense are ideas worthy to pursue. Combining a fish comment to Take That, raising an eyebrow to a squirrel or gnawing on a simmering oat flake are treasures hard to come by. Especially when the weather outside is just cool enough to keep one’s spaces in between the chair and the feet dry.

 

Today we shall celebrate Tau Day. And life in common.

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recovering the old

July 28, 2008

I just deleted one of my personal blogs – details from 2005 – 2007.

an excerpt:

– “My head thrown back I let my gaze dwell on the ceiling, underwent the profoundest experience of ecstasy I have ever encountered. I had attained that supreme degree of sensibility where the divine intimations of art merge with the impassioned sensuality of emotion” –

I long for those rare moments when I shiver with the rush of altered consciousness. In an ephemeral blast of time’s breath, it’s like the universe reveals itself and there is a mutual recognition of all things. But as quick as it manifests it slams shut it’s window, only leaving the essence like some intoxicating perfume that remains after someone has left the room.
– Jo Gabriel –