Read more about the article Karl Ove’s Struggle

Karl Ove’s Struggle

I’m reading ‘Some Rain Must Fall’ by my fellow countryman and memoirist  Karl Ove Knugsgaard at the moment.

It starts with his student year at the Writing Academy in Bergen. The same year I studied Graphic Design in Stavanger. This is the 5th book and his writing, which dazzled me from the start, hugely improves with each book. I feel like I’m growing as a writer with him. I started with the first book in his ‘My Struggle’ series, which I don’t necessarily think have to be read in chronological order. I couldn’t get book 3 but didn’t feel I had missed anything when I read book 4, which was the book I read on The Captain’s Island.

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Read more about the article A week before The Funeral

A week before The Funeral

Dear Ones,

This is one of those strange times in my life, when all I can do is lean into love and be ok with all the questions. My Dad was not a good father, still he was the father I had, he was my only father.

Some believe we pick our parents so they can teach us some of the big lessons we are meant to learn in life. In that respect, he was a ‘great teacher.’  Accepting his view of the world without judgment and without having to agree with him is where I’m at today.

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Read more about the article Fear

Fear

Today feels like starting all over agin.

The surge of fear swells up from my gut like burning indigestion. Halting my breath as if I’m reacting to a tiger about to eat me alive. Striking at my hip and shoulder where I carry my emotions like numb pain.

At first, fear so vivid, I can see the tiger, before I remember to breathe.

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Read more about the article Judging Without Why

Judging Without Why

Last weekend, having lunch, I saw a good mum feeding her 10 year old daughter. It wasn’t a very healthy lunch and the daughter could do with healthy. I judged her, and I don’t even know her WHY.

A few days ago I went on a field trip with Ruby’s school. The day was extra hot and dry with the sun beating down on us in the desert landscape of Waadi Digla. I was in the back troop as we set out on a big hike.  Climbing the steep hill, sand and rocks coursed down the hillside, under our trainers.

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