If you knew that one day someone would be helped and inspired by exactly the trial you are going through now, would it then be easier to bear? I believe that the knowledge/thought that another person can benefit from your story; your experiences and how you solved problems and trials makes the burden lighter in a way; because then you are doing something for something greater than yourself. There is a self-sacrifice in the picture that gives momentum, and you no longer think only of “me and mine,” but also of the well-being of others. I don’t know if this makes sense – I think it’s the autumn and the colourful death and devotion of the plants to the cycle of the seasons that made me write this 🤭🍂💛
The Sacred Bear and “the Origin of the Sámi People”
In Sámi mythology, the bear is a divine ancestor, not just an animal.
One myth tells of a heavenly bear who descended to earth and married a human woman. Their children became the first Sámi people.
Because of this, bears were/are honored as ancestor spirits, and when a bear was killed (very rare and ritualised), its bones were carefully placed in a tree to allow its soul to return to the sky.
A ceremony called the Bear Feast included songs, dances, and apologizing to the bear spirit for the killing, inviting it to be reborn.
The Bear Who Fell From the Stars:
A Sámi Creation Song of the First Bear
In the hush before dawn, where no footprints fall, Where the wind hums secrets to the pine, A star broke loose from the roof of night And tumbled down through time.
He fell with a roar through clouds of gold, Bathed in *Beaivi’s light. He landed not dead, but dreaming still In the heart of the forest’s white.
The reindeer bowed their crowned heads low, The lynx stood still in her track. For this was the First of Bears, The Sky-Child, fallen back.
He walked like thunder on ancient snow, His breath, a wind of flame. Yet gentle were his dreaming eyes, And wise, and without shame.
A woman came from a northern vale, A weaver of skins and song. She found him sleeping in a ring of birch And stayed with him all night long.
They spoke without words by fire and frost, By the rhythm of blood and bone. She taught him the names of the winds and streams; He gave her dreams of home.
And so their children, wild and wise, Were neither beast nor man. They sang to trees, they hunted clean, They walked where few else can.
But then the bear, when spring had sung, Felt longing rise like steam: His fur grew light, his eyes grew wide He vanished into dream.
And so today, when the bear is seen, The Sámi bow and sing “Child of stars, our ancient kin, Return again in spring.”
If ever a bear is taken in hunt, The people weep and pray. They dress his skull in flowers and moss And lift his bones away.
In my summer sea sámi gákti. And small baby “shoes” made by mother-in-law 🙏🏼Shades of blue shellRusty coloursBlue and purple hues“Det er morgen igjen, vesle håp og verden frotterer seg med nyvasket solskinn. Livets ansikt er aldri det samme selv om vi ser på det i all evighet.” – Kolbein Falkeid #home #kitchen #midnightsunCurious little guy on a short hike in the rain. ☔️Summer details in some of my older paintings. Just playing and experimenting with colours and techniques so that I will hopefully find the Joy of painting again 😄 I guess I have a little dry spell in my creative life at the moment.. Blue, orange and yellow are great together. A bouquet I picked by the side of the road.Details Beef tallow.Son and daddy 💙💛❤️💚My partner of 14 years meditating. #yogisondisplay Our shed with some new flowers.Curious little rabbit in our garden.
“Darkness, no matter how ominous and intimidating, is not a thing or force: it is merely the absence of light. So light need not combat and overpower darkness in order to displace it – where light is, darkness is not. A thimbleful of light will therefore banish a roomful of darkness. The same is true of good and evil: evil is not a thing or force, but merely the absence or concealment of good. One need not ‘defeat’ the evil in the world; one need only bring to light its inherent goodness.”
“No sløkkes en dag som så vidt rakk å gråne og vise fram landet ei skjømmingsblå stund og gjømt attom fjellan i aust står en måne som snart skal strø sølv over fjorda og sund. I sør ligg ei strime av lys over tindan der dagen blør ut før han slokne førr godt og vi står igjen med oss sjøl og med minnan i mørketidslyset der allting blir blått.
Så kom og vær nær meg – vær sol i desember når midtvinterstanka tar rom i mitt sinn førr året må føle sin kurs og kalender og stian blir tungtrødd når lyset førsvinn. Men hold meg i handa og lær meg å vente på solkvervingstimen då allting skal snu. I mørketidslyset e varme å hente førr den som har mot tel å trosse og tru.
Ja, streif mine strenga og løys i meg tonen tel landet som kvile ved midtvinterstid la mørketids-tankan og haust-depresjonen få vike førr strofe av blå poesi. Vi leve med rest av en sommar i minne i lengting mot daga vi ikkje har fått men kjem du meg nær skal vi solvarmen finne i mørketidslyset der allting blir blått.” – Helge Stangnes 💙💛🧡
Senja island. The pointy peak is Segla. Hiked it once, amazing view. Apologies for grainy mobile shot, it doesn’t do it justice.I love driving. One of my happy places, for sure.
“Away, away,—to the mountains away, Where the pine trees murmur and sway, And the foamy waterfalls sing and spring Over the boulders gray.
Hills— Blue and green hills, near and far, The farther they lie, the better they are. The near ones I can climb and see But the beautiful far ones call to me”
“The sight filled the northern sky; the immensity of it was scarcely conceivable. As if from Heaven itself, great curtains of delicate light hung and trembled. Pale green and rose-pink, and as transparent as the most fragile fabric, and at the bottom edge a profound and fiery crimson like the fires of Hell, they swung and shimmered loosely with more grace than the most skillful dancer.” 🌌
Av og til
må noe vare lenge,
ellers mister vi vel vettet snart,
så fort som allting snurrer rundt med oss.
Store trær er fint
og riktig gamle hus er fint,
men enda bedre –
fjell.
Som ikke flytter seg en tomme
om hele verden enn forandres
(og det må den snart),
så står de der
og står og står
så du har noe å legge pannen inntil,
og kjøle deg
og holde i noe fast.
Jeg trives med fjell.
De lager horisonter
med store hugg i,
som de var smidd av smeder.
Ask The Mountains 