
November 30
Remembrance Day for Lost Species & Thanksgiving before that
People are by default, natural beings of magic and alchemy. Precious little things which like the words we so often squander carelessly around might appear to be near endless in number and as such perhaps to you feel like petty change a snowy day.
But we all come into this world born with the same wisdom and magic and inherent limitless beauty.
Words, and people.
Like the magic of minds and life and hearts, are pure expressions of the truth of the universe itself, even if we all squander it´s real worth quite often, I totally do that too :).
But as it is, right here and now, we are all standing together on the doorsteps of a beautiful world of perfectly flawed alchemists whom carve water straight out of thin air, and clean energy from the sun, and perfectly flawed beauty from all things living.
Like those Japanese pottery things, cracked and made perfect with golden wounds. Not in spite of those wounds, but thanks to the cracks, the flaws and imperfections that mix and mingle with their perfections. The sum made so much more thanks to each other.
And today, walking through this door, I invite you all to come walk with me through a gorgeous, cloud free sky with harsh, early winter Nordic colors.
A sky that holds that captivating pale winter blue, yet as pale as it may be, it always do that perennial pale in the most strikingly vivid way.
Inside its whispering hues, there just is something peculiarly enchanting about our Norse winter dome which no other season ever comes close in approach.
Harsh, clear sunny light paints the world today, the likes you only see during winter's burning embrace. I always smile at how warm your freezing limbs actually feel when they are in truth, burning cold.
Yet the landscape still autumnish in color and diversity is thriving and inviting, applauding even the arrival of that blanket of fluffy white. Winter does not kill, it only dress the world in a different shade of love, and nature knows it.
I did say cloud free, but in truth, there are some strains of elongated and extremely thin white clouds that streak across the sky, enhancing it all with the nature of their mere presence.
But perhaps most strikingly, this entire morning.
Basking in that beautiful winter powered sun, on top of the entire world, there is a frosty, super cold and hardy, yet still thin white layer, not meter thick layers of snow, yet not just frost either. Thick crystals of white paints the entire world in that in-between state of late autumn and the first inviting greetings of winters man-sized white armored blanket.
It is a gorgeous day. And the sun and the autumn sparkles in fathers frost first real coating.
And perhaps you will not comment and write back to tell us of your own day and life, perhaps you never do, perhaps you never feel that your day and life is worth talking about. But it is. It always is.
And really who cares about my words, those artificial things and numbers are just that, ones and zeros, sometimes they carry with them the magic of life and people, and sometimes they are just carefree ones and zeros that we sprinkle all around. But, either way, those moments and words of your life, they color and change the world for someone, be as it might in your own mind be in rainbows of gold or manure :).
In fact, I would never write these words myself for the world to hear and see if not for the way my gf paint the entire world for me.
What matters, however, is not the words, but the things you love and do, the beauty of your own life and this entire day, just the way it is. Your own, unique gift which is every single day lived and loved without walking over someone else's gift.
Life as it is enjoyed by you, is the life you should always have. Words are not needed to make that truth all beautiful.
And so now I will head outdoors and enjoy the small magic and moments of this beautiful sunshine morning and I hope that you all have a day as good as this one, a day enjoyed your very own way, because the beauty of you and your life, lived and enjoyed your own way without being trampled upon by others, that is something quite priceless and world improving.
And you being allowed the gift of enjoying a healthy and fulfilling life through the magic and hard work of ever increasing numbers of beautiful little magicians and world improving alchemists running around in the wild, making this world healthier and more equal, more inclusive and loving, that´s a plus for all of us no matter how we do our own life.
And so, as I go outside I will leave you with these words, because this is my opinion, that this day being enjoyed by you, in your own way, that is a small and big plus for you and me and all of us. Happy thanksgiving to all of you.
music of the day while you are reading our article
Windwards by Netherbirds
The Mouse In our Wall
We play in the snow, under the shooting star
Told to you, as I once told, a mind and girly soul, so beautiful.
Inside the walls of our homes, and lives. There are Undraped windows through which we see both in and out, and at night I look out and up with you.
A shooting star stirs and moves the northern lights. Like a spoon through water, it moves before our eyes. Clear as day yet slightly obfuscated through the sheets of glass, the world is silent and it could be a dream as I witness the star cut through the puffy clouds.
And at night.
Some other times, there we are, walking through life's small moments and we are holding hands.
Together, we stand outside having walked amongst the falling leafs and the subtle snow.
Rain or sunshine matters not.
Looking in, through the of night, all chilly frosty glass, the burning lamps the pleasant light and warmth that moves and lives inside.
Is it empty we ask out loud, or is there someone looking out? Back at us. Do they hear our silent minds, can they feel our burning soul and warming hands.
In between these two sides. Neither looking in or out. Or perhaps, they do them both all the time.
There live a gnarly little furry mouse that moves about with his love and all their friends.
At night, you can hear them talk and hug it out. They move, play and dart around, inside and outside the walls that people build. Sometimes they walk our floors, sitting near, our sleeping faces.
We kiss and make a cute little snowy angel. Your arms wisp around and I kiss your pretty lips, yet again.
And right there. In the corner of my eye. I swear the little mice sits right nearby. Looking out at us as we hug it out.
And perhaps he too thinks the very same. Looking out and about, at us and all the shooting stars.

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