This is where I am right now, surrounded by the deep colours of azure and alabaster. This thus explains the lack of my posts and visits, for which I apologize.
I am simply just savoring the pristine and snowy slopes, fairytale surroundings and everything else that is part of a great skiing vacation, all in a perfect company.
Will be back soon.:)
I love the sea.
I love so many things about this wide body of blue, but I guess most of all I relish in that endless variation that a view of the ocean offers at all times. The sea is never the same and those who live at its shores will confirm this fact with certainty.
The beaches of the North Sea must be the most pristine ones I have ever laid my eyes upon. There is so much raw beauty in the powerful surf, as the rollers of icy cold water sweep over the sandy shoreline, spraying salty aerosol high into the air.
I have now had the privilege to witness the manifestation of this rough sea in three seasons and each seems to try to outdo the previous one when it comes to power and beauty. On our recent visit, once again stunning natural opulence greeted me.
It was a sunny day and the almost two-hundred minutes increase in our daylight produced a hue of platinum and no longer gold. The snow covered sand resembled a dried up salt lake bed, reflecting the abundant sunshine. The mist was rising at the horizon, erasing the border between earth and sky, instigating a sense of continuity. The sea itself moved forcefully, yet it swept over the shores in slow motion, as the deep freeze kept its consistency so close to land on the borderline between liquid and ice, creating slushy pools.
Okra, platinum, steel, sea foam and indigo - those were the words resonating within as I gazed at the colours surrounding us. The vital sun warmed our faces, the salty air purified our souls and the distant roar of the winter ocean cleared our perception and I once again found novel reasons for why I love the sea.
I am starting my eighth month in a new home and yet if feels as if eternity has passed since July. Returning from vacation last summer, without much deliberation or discussions, we packed my old Toyota with a few necessities, not too mention Sammy - and that was it, I have moved. Some months after that my old house was rented out and simultaneously put up for sale.
It has all been easy and uncontrived. All the decision we make together come along naturally and are unforced. Even though our every day life is filled with problems, we seem to have the same outlook on life and share the same values and opinions on how to solve them. This fuels our passion for each other.
I truly do feel deeply loved and cherished. Oddly enough, the incredible respect with which I am being treated now keeps bringing to my recollection the terrible way I have been used and abused in my past.
I find it endlessly intriguing the way human psyche works and how we deal with the aftermath of the events in our life. Today I seem to be thinking a great deal about my loss, that devastating loss which I experienced last spring. The wound still runs too deep to reveal it's details in my writing, yet it is something that seems to haunt my mind currently.
This makes me struggle with an internal conflict over whether some people that cause us deep pain should never be forgiven and should only be forgotten. I hope one day I will come to that profound insight which will enable me to understand and finally forgive the actions of someone I trusted, but I am not there yet.
Fortunately I know that as winter moves into spring and into summer, even my recollection will dwindle and I will embrace my present and focus on my future.
One wonderful product of changes, among many, is that they force us to reevaluate our life and ourselves. I believe our traits are a consequence of both our environment and our heritage. I know today I am a legacy of my past and the way I function is dictated by my experiences. At times I wish I would have been spared certain pain and setbacks, as it would have produced a much less complicated me. My personality is riddled with flaws that I have accumulated during troubled and sedative years in my past. There are aspects of my traits which have stagnated and are undeveloped and it is only now becoming clear to me how much I indeed yet have to learn. As I am exposed to new areas of my reality, I am forced to excel and extend the limit of my capabilities. At times this is slightly unnerving, but also endlessly exhilarating. I am still a student of life.
The lovely BPG shared a link to an intriguing article in one of her posts the other day. It listed the top five regrets people express when lying on their dead beds. A fascinating read.
This hit close to home for me somewhat as one of my relatives passed away recently. Riddled with disease, his ultimate years were a time of endless suffering. Yet the last time I saw him, he still had that spark of joie de vivre in his eyes. If anyone loved life and enjoyed living, it was him indeed. I bet he had no regrets at all.
His passing once again brought the thin line between life and death into my perception. It reinforced my perpetual belief in living each day as it was our last. The time we are given here is so very precious and incredibly fragile. Just the simple act of being alive is a miracle - how foolish it is to waste it away on petty worries and arrogant pursuits.
We arrive here with nothing and leave with nothing as well. All we own in the end are the memories and recollections that leave with us. Eventually the only riches that matters are the treasures we carry within.
I have been endlessly mesmerized by the photographs that so many of you capture and share - the images of birds.
It has been - and still is - a rare privilege in my own world to encounter birds up close and personal. At times I can spot them perched on a branch in my view, yet they are far away and too timid to approach.
My new Canon has enabled me to snap a shot or two from distance, using its superb zoom. Nevertheless, the occasions I have been lucky enough to capture even such images can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Last weekend though I got to experience birdwatching of quite a different kind, when we visited the father of my man. He is an avid gardener and his garden is during the summer season beautifully lush and alive; not just with plant life, but animal life as well. Yet even now, as arctic conditions has swept over the country in recent weeks, while everything is seemingly silent and dormant, watching birds in their feeding frenzy outside his windows instigates life.
Their delicate looks and gentle appearance is so very deceiving, as nothing is more resilient than sedentary birds, withstanding months of cold and famine.
With some help and kindness from us they fight the elements, getting through the hardships of winter to reward us with a beautiful song at the onset of spring.
The very first car that I drove as my own was a bright red, 77 Ford Thunderbird. I have just moved to North Carolina and barely had my license for a year, when I got the privilege to borrow this large wagon for my very own use. I was initially terrified at the mere prospect of sitting behind its wheel, but very quickly grew to love this old American legend.
After it was retired to my friends driveway, I bought my very first own car. It was a red Nissan Sentra with a few years on its back. Today I still have the old North Carolina license plate, which until very recently hang on the wall in my basement and now is tucked away somewhere in a box in storage. It stated "First In Flight" and the last sticker on it was from 99, the year I moved back to Europe.
When I relocated to Denmark, I bought my very first new car. A Toyota Yaris. I can still recall the incredible excitement when I drove it out of the car dealership and onto the road, as it was a beginning to a new life.
A car symbolizes so much and is such an important part of our life. My father can recall all the cars he has ever owned and the memories evoke a plethora of sentiments, as he travels in his mind all the way back to the early sixties and lists them one by one. They all have a place in his heart and all a story or two to tell.
Indeed, a car is often a necessity, at times a luxury but ultimately a possession that we bond with in an uncanny way as it is in our life for extended period of time. Over the years my green Toyota became my friend and recently it even received a nickname; The Green Lightning, as its tiny engine has been pushed to the limit in the past many months, while traveling at high speeds for hundred of miles each day, through any kind of weather.
It has served me well, bringing me safely to many destinations, whether in Denmark or abroad. It has been running smoothly, never letting me down, sparing me major repairs and trips to the mechanic. It has seen me through thick and thin, watched many passengers seated next to me, anything from family members to old friends, fleeting acquaintances, colleagues and boyfriends. It has help me move and transport all my possessions on numerous occasions and today it simply carries on its back more than a decade of my personal history.
Thus it was with a heavy heart that I was recently forced to realize that it's time with me has been concluded.
I had to face the fact that it's technology was outdated, it's power weakened and the heavy commute has begun to leave it's mark. Although fuel efficient at low speeds, it is unbelievably uneconomical at high speeds and it has been draining my wallet and my energy for the past eight months.
I never realized that it would be so difficult to part with a car.
Driving it over to the car dealer this past weekend, the exchange was made and we were presented with a shinning new Polo with state of the art technology and modern look. Gazing at my old friend for the last time, I felt a wave of grief enveloping me and struggled to hold back the tears that filled my eyes all of a sudden. Just like when I left my white house on the hill, there were mixed emotions of happiness over something novel and exciting, but also sadness over saying farewell to something very dear, a presence that has been vital and beneficial in my life for so long.
As I contemplated the wish and hope that after a quick make over it might still serve very well to someone new, I was handed the keys to my new car. Gazing at its shiny hood, I could not help but feel that it was smiling at me.
Thus I knew this was the beginning of a new, beautiful friendship.
Crossing into February, the mild winter is history and more seasonal weather has gained hold over Scandinavia. Subzero temperatures, wind and snow.
Luckily, only a light blanket is covering my surroundings. A dry powder of white precipitation that swirls around when picked up by the arctic wind. It makes the snow dance in circles resembling wintery dust devils, driving it into small banks here and there.
Yet, despite the wind gusts, there is a certain stillness while it snows. It is as if everything stops and slows down, conserving energy and bracing itself for the final fury of the Ice Lady.
Note: I apologize for my lack of posts and visits - life has simply been keeping me occupied elsewhere (in a good way). I should however be back to more regular blogging soon.:)
I was born under the Tatra Mountains, to a Czech father and a Slovak mother. I grew up in Sweden and lived almost ten years in North Carolina.
More than a decade ago my line of work took me to Denmark, where I live today. My home, which I share with the man that holds my heart, lies in the northerly part of a Danish peninsula, in the proximity of endless, wide and pristine westbound sandy beaches, surrounded by the rough and untamed North Sea.
My writing is defined by reflections on my cosmopolitan past and my intriguing present. Ultimately I try to convey in words and images my personal thoughts and feelings about life itself, with all its magic, natural splendour and the beauty of simple pleasures.