Sharing: Kahlil Gibran on Love

To whom it may concern:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Car Trouble? Yebo

I don't know how many men have pushed my car since the month of July. Maybe between 15 to 20? Somehow I've lost count. What I know is that each and every one was in doubt about my driving ability as a woman. "Sisi, are you sure you know how to kick start a car?" "Yebo," I reply to a song that's getting too repetitive.

Since my history with Honeybee (my yellow beetle,) I've had a flat tyre twice, I've run out of petrol about 5 times (my gauge doesn't work) and about 4 times now she just died on me. Strangely enough it always happens at a robot stop to the great joy of annoyed drivers who have little or no understanding when it comes to beetles. I always put on my emergency lights clearly indicating that I'm having car troubles while they yell "get the hell out of here:"

A woman with a devilish red lipstick screams at me from the car behind. I turn my key, but there is no reaction what so ever. I take a look around, but I don't see any possible helpers. The woman starts hooting. Her rage is on fire. I feel like giving her the finger. She is pushing the wrong buttons. But I give her a friendly gesture saying "my car is dead" instead, and choose to ignore the she-devil in me. I turn the key again, and finally manage to get the attention of two men enjoying their breakfast at an outdoor restaurant patio: The heros of the day.

In contrast to aggressive drivers, passers-by always seem to be friendlier and they are the ones who come to my rescue. Usually, the men are the ones pushing, the women don't bother much, but they like looking.

Safe, half-way on the sidewalk, or on a yellow or red line, I give my thumbs up to the pushers and I praise myself lucky for being a journalist student who always carries a pen: leaving notes like 'this car is parked on a red line cause it stopped working,' 'this car is out of petrol' or just simply 'this car stopped working.' I have a whole collection in my dashboard. However, tonight my collection didn't really help much.

I was on my way to the airport, needed to go back home for a funeral. (Home being Norway by the way.)On the highway, half-way to the airport Honeybee goes into a coma. No light, no sound, no reaction. Great.

The advantage when you have car problems though (yes, it might actually benefit you in some way) is that you learn a lot about how to fix them. When I first got Honeybee, I couldn't name a single part of her engine, but now I know where the coil is, the distributor, the condenser, the points etc. I know how to clear an air blockage in the petrol system and I sure know how to use jumper cables. Once I even fixed the bumper tying it with my lady scarf.

So on the highway, on my way to the airport - I realised that something was wrong with the battery, but since there was no time to play MacGyver, risking to lose my flight, I called a friend of mine to come save me.

He came and luckily I made it in time for my check-in, but as I came to the gate I was told that I was on stand-by for the flight. It was overbooked, and I couldn't help but think 'you got to be kidding me.' For a moment I even felt that gazing up at the sky would be in it's place. Yes, it's in moments like these that I become superstitious - because I'm not really a superstitious person, or at least that's what I like to think. Reading it all as a sign, I backed off rather than persuading any of the other passengers to swap me a seat. I know. I shouldn't really watch movies like final destination. But I mean, first my car breaks down, and then I'm on stand-by. For sure something or someone was trying to keep me from getting on that flight.

So here I am. Back in my apartment writing about car troubles. The plane left without me. Honeybee is lonely in some dark street after my flatmate Tar managed to get her half-way home, and had to walk the rest. And yet, I keep on trying to fix her, spending all my money, because she's such a classic drive and I love the feeling of driving her around on a sunny day. At least she made up for some of the money tonight as KLM gave me a 350 Euro voucher that I use the next time I get a ticket. I got a new flight booked for tomorrow, and I sure hope I'll make it home to Norway in time. One thing is certain though - even if Honeybee get's well tomorrow - she is not taking me to the airport.

Poetry: It's snowing in another country

It's snowing in another country

I'm not there, but I'm numb

It doesn't really make sense

Does it?

Atmospheric translucent crystals

falling from the sky

tucking you in

keeping you warm

I like to picture that they're falling for you

dancing for you

keeping you company

They don't know yet

but they are burying a lion heart

releasing a bird

And as your last gift

they're making you angels in the snow

I thought you were immortal

I was wrong

Lost in translation?

How to break a language barrier with someone you love

Ok, so you’ve just discovered that there is a slight truth to the saying that there is no limit to love, finding yourself falling for someone who can barely say ‘how are you’ in your own language.

Even though you’re a guy and it’s officially against your nature to be idealistic when it comes to love this is not an impossible scenario, and you are allowed to think ‘we can do this.’

It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand how it happened. She’s exotic, you’re exotic, it just did, and now you have to deal with it. Here are some tips on how to make it work and how to get to know each other better.



1) Your language barrier is not a handicap

Remember this: Even couples who speak the same language struggle to communicate properly and understand each other. It doesn’t matter what your friends tell you. Only you can know how you feel about someone and what you need to do about it. Not speaking the same language might actually be a blessing rather than a handicap. Look at the bright side: more kissing and less verbal abuse during fights.

Be patient.


2) Talking louder does not help

When she doesn’t understand what you’re saying it really doesn’t help raising your voice, it will probably only scare her away. Keep the words simple and talk slowly. Stick to international words that she’s more likely to understand. Like communication (communicación, kommunikasjon)

(Information, información, informasjon)
Words that end with -tion in English are usually similar in other languages.

Aaaaah, ooooh and mmm are also great communicators and highly underestimated.


3) Be melodramatic, not self-conscious

Don’t be scared to make a fool out of yourself. Make facial expressions and play on emotions. We all know how to distinguish a happy face from a sad face and at least she’ll know how you’re feeling that particular day. Self-consciousness kills communication, not the other way around.


4) Get an Etch A Sketch

and save paper to show her that you’re green and that you care about the environment. Draw your favourite things so she gets an opportunity to get to know what you like, and cross an x over the things that you dislike. She’ll get the picture and return your drawings.

When you think it’s time for you to visit her country draw it (make sure you know what it actually looks like though) and a flying airplane on its way there.


5) Speak with your body, be the caveman

Make gestures, look at her, kiss her, hold her and touch her. Physical expressions like waving, pointing, touching and slouching are all forms of non-verbal communication. If you want her to hike the mountain with you, then just point in its direction and mimic a hiking walk. We all know the international body language.

And to really speak with your body get undressed. Find out where she likes to be kissed.

According to communication researcher John Borg human communication consists of 93% body language and paralinguistic cues, while only 7% of human communication consists of words. Who are the ones in same-language relationships fooling?


6) Arm yourself with a dictionary

Though it can be time consuming to look up words that are too hard to pronounce in the first place it can be worth making the effort. You can always point on it and make her help you with the pronunciation, enhancing your bonding.

A dictionary might also come in handy the first time you pick a fight. Remember to control your frustration and not rip out the pages. You might end up regretting it at a later stage.


7) Learn the language, win her heart

There is no better way to win a woman’s heart than by learning her language. There are plenty of online language courses no matter what language you’re pursuing: Chinese, Russian, Spanish, Norwegian etc. Many of them are actually free so being broke is no excuse, but no pressure. Yellow post-its describing different objects in your flat might also be a good beginning.

For some extra motivation you can always start by learning the names of her body parts.


8) Get a translator

Last resort if none of the above is working.

Mountain Dreamer

This is such a beautiful, "thought-awakening" poem
and I would like to share it with whoever is reading.
From one mountain dreamer to another one.

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

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 dreams, 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 shrivelled 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 a 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 Sea Nomads

She was born on the sea.
She lived on the sea.
She died on the sea.
Her feet, strangers
to the tickle of soil.
They barely walked on earth,
but danced in water.

I read something really interesting today, about nomads on the sea - thanks to a Norwegian blogger called Simen - that inspired me to write this little poem. What was so strange to me was that I studied anthropology for four years and never heard of the sea nomads. How's that possible? I guess we were to busy focusing on the desert ones maybe? But, this is what fascinates me so much about life. How you learn something new every day. I dream of one day writing stories like this, combining anthropology and journalism.




"Diana Botutihe was born at sea. Now in her 50s, she has spent her entire life on boats that are typically just 5m long and 1.5m wide. She visits land only to trade fish for staples such as rice and water, and her boat is filled with the accoutrements of everyday living – jerry cans, blackened stockpots, plastic utensils, a kerosene lamp and a pair of pot plants.

Diana is one of the world's last marine nomads; a member of the Bajau ethnic group, a Malay people who have lived at sea for centuries, plying a tract of ocean between the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia. The origins of the Bajau diaspora are recounted in the legend of a princess from Johor, Malaysia, who was washed away in a flash flood. Her grief-stricken father ordered his subjects to depart, returning only when they'd found his daughter."

Read the rest here: The last of the sea nomads

When we were kids we had time to look at clouds

They were looking for figurines in the sky
next to each other flat on the grass
when she asked:

"If you could have super powers
- what would you choose?"

"I would like to fly," said the boy,
gazing up at the clouds.

"And you?"

"Freeze time."