Övergivet -En tidsresa i de djupa skogar

I slutet av grusvägen
på väg till ingenstans,
det övergivna huset.
Omsorgsfullt inbäddad i natur,
det är knappt du ser det.

I en annan tid började naturens kamp,
att återta allt det som möjligt är.
Resten får bli kvar.
Helt ostört kan det tålmodiga arbetet fortgå,
det finns ingen där som hindrar.

Halva taket har ändrat skäpnad.
Från ett rum sträcker sig träd och växter
mot ljuset som strilar in,
från där golvet en gång var tak.

I ett sovrum har endast mössen haft roligt.
Festat loss, på madrasser i en obäddad säng.
Några kläder på en lina väntar på torka,
doftar inte sommaräng, utan mer av rutten myr.
I eldstaden ligger icke-förkolnad ved
med ett fint täcke av mossa.

Om du blundrar kan du höra…
Trummandet av barnafötter över knarrande golv.
Fnitter och skratt genom rummen.
Ljuvliga ljud av kärlek och närhet.
Ekon från förr
ekon från förr

Plötsligt var allt över.
På ett ögonblick?
På ett lyckligt ögonblick,
med tid att säga far väl?

På gårdsplanen står den gamla pärlan,
iklädd sin bruna fina kostym.

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©Kristin Oladatter 2018. All rights reserved

Deserted- In a Moment

There, at the end of the small dirt road to nowhere…. The deserted house. All covered in green you can hardly see it. A long time ago nature started it’s battle to retake all the parts it can possibly use.  Uninpeded it’s job can continue. No one is there to prevent it.

Half the roof has changed it’s location. From the inside floor, trees and plants are now growing, stretching towards the light from abowe where once the roof was.

In the bedroom  rats have been feasting on the mattresses in the untided bed. Some clothes left to dry still hanging there. During the years they’we been wet over and over again by the rain coming in. They no longer smells like a summer meadow. More like the rutten smell of a mire.

In the fireplace the parts of the  firewood not charred, are covered in moss.

If you close your eyes you can almost hear it; the drumming of small childrens feet on the floor….The sound of intimacy and Love from the bedroom.

Such a long time ago it must have been.

In a moment they were gone. Was it a happy moment? Did they have time to finish their coffee and say goodbye to their loved one’s?  We can only imagine.

But maybe not…..Cause in the backyard the old car is left to rust.

 

Copyright photos by ©IM Photo 2016 All rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wildheart – a true tale from the forest

Death called her name

The Calling from the Forest, even louder

Sticks lying there, quietly on the ground.

No eyes. No mouths. No visible hearts. Yet speaking to her.

 

With her tender hands she brings them to her place

Giving them  faces

Giving them words.

And they speak. The words of wisdom. The words of enlightment.

 

Her friends. Close to her heart.

Returning her gift.

Giving her life. Bringing her joy.

Tell me; who would not cry, letting go of such friends?

 

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”The forest is my University and the sticks are uniquely inspiring teachers”

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”My professional stick picking is my revolution against the law of Jante”

Stick Art by Vildhjärta:

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Want more? Vildhjärta

All pictures by ©IM Photo  ©Oladatter All rights reserved

Are we Human or are we Dancers?

In our shallow and material world we are more or less slaves to the system. In some parts of the world more than in others. Up here in the colder parts we are thought at an early age that we need to be someTHING. Why? If we are someTHING we might earn good money. And with money we can collect our new cars, fancy houses and all the material things that we ”need” to prove to others that we have become someTHING.

AND, we can easily answer the question that are mostly the first question we get from new people that we meet; ”so, what do you do for a living?”

Does the answer to that question give them any clue about who they are meeting?

shouldn’t we be asking; ”so, WHO are you?”

To answer this question we actually need to do a lot more  thinking….How do I live My life? What have I learned from My life so far? What are My dreams and hopes for the future? What brings me joy, what brings me sadness?

So, by asking that question you need to be prepared to spend some time listening to the answer. You will have to slow down and stay in that very moment, at that very place. Present.

We don’t have time, do we?

Douglas Malloch wrote ”Be the best of whatever you are”

”If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley…but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.

If you can’t be a bush, be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can’t be a muskie, then just be a bass…
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew.
There’s something for all of us here,
There’s big work to do, and there’s lesser to do,
And the task you must do is near.

If you can’t be a highway, then just be a trail,
If you can’t be a sun, be a star;
It isn’t by size that you win or you fail…
Be the best of whatever you are!”

 

I’ll just do my best. Living. To be me.

KOS

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