Our house was getting too small.
Or our lives were too crowded. We were to busy to do anything about it. I was not able to go to sleep, tossing and turning, worrying and thinking. When I finally drifted into a troubled dream it suddenly all made sense. I had just dreamt that we had an extra room that we did not know anything about. I felt calm, relaxed and happy and slept soundly the rest of the night. The next morning I was halfway down the stairs, going to open the door to that new room, before I realized how impossible that would be in a house that we had built ourselves.

I still knew the dream to be true though, I just was waiting to understand how. 

I prayed and waited, thought and wondered. 

For several weeks I did not understand the answer, even if I got one clue after another.

 I was asked to write some texts. I was asked to design some book covers. I was asked to do some creative sewing projects. I had some paintings framed, and sold them. I was asked to sit on a board. 

Not out of the blue, I had always done these things, I had just not known that I had to do them. 

Now I know, I am happy only if I create something. 

Not necessarily things, even peace has to be made. That is how I regard counseling, coaching and board work. To create in these settings is to visualize and to make a setting where reflection is possible.

My soul told me that it was not really the physical space that was too crowded.My whole family was suffering because I had acted as there was no place for my soul. 

Now I know the dream was true, now I know it is up to me to make it possible.


It is not my story – writing challenge on what I never would tell

IMG_0196 heart of heartsWhen I saw the picture of those two chefs in this weeks writing challenge I knew at once what the story was. It would not be fiction though, as it is one of my treasured memories. An impromptu wedding in an alpine flower field. A poetic wedding service with towering, snow-clad swiss alps as backdrop. A glowing bride walking up to the improvised altar while the wind played with her veil and someone played a joyful tune on a wooden flute. Leading up to this was only two days of preparing, an unprecedented whirl of activity. There was not much money, but everyone had searched their hearts and mind to find what they could contribute. Those two chefs, who never had worked together before, were able to  create a colorful and well tasting feast from meagre ingredients. One girl knew how to give a massage and went through the preparing crowds easing the strain, some of us picked wild flowers, some were scrubbing floors or doing laundry to prepare for guests. The strongest carried tables and chairs from all the village to the biggest lawn.

Setting of another marvellous wedding

Setting of another marvellous wedding

Then, this is what I saw, and what I took part in, which would only be romantic, not fabulous if it were not for the rest of the story. Why this haste? Who were married? When was this? Did they live happily forever after? I know only part of those answers, I have no way to check up on what I do not know, and I know that if I write more, someone could recognize this setting and be hurt if I did not tell the story right. I know what version I have of the truth, and that is enough to know that the rest is not my story to tell. To me that goes with all blogging and writing, knowing what to tell and what to keep. If I was listening to someone sharing their troubles or joys in confidence, I would not open the windows and shout into the streets, listen to this great story! Even when I took part in the story, only my part is the one to share. You would have loved to be in that wedding though, and then we could have shared our memories of the probably most glorious romantic story we ever witnessed. As it is, it’s up to you to imagine!