I don't want to be alone.

I've felt alone my entire life. I haven't been alone, but I've felt alone. I've gotten very used to the feeling of being alone. This feeling is what I perceive as normal. Finding peace in this feeling, I've avoided binding ties. Letting people in - only to then keep them at a distance. Alone is where I feel safe. Alone no one can hurt me. Yet the hurt has come, and the hurt has been great.

Still, I do need to be alone. I do need the silence around me. I desire my space and solitude, for it is here that I step into who I am. It is here that I create from all that I see around me. But I've come to the point of where I now need to choose. I'm now at the brink of changing. Consciously staying, where I always used to leave. Consciously turning who I am inside out. I've choked, I've panicked, I've not known what to do. And so I've returned to my haven. I've questioned myself, questioned all that I'm doing, for the amount of uneasy is at times too great to bare. But returning to my solitude I know I'm ready to do this. I may choke, I may cry and have panic rushing over me. But aloneness is not what I want anymore. Aloneness is not what I desire. No longer do I want to be scared of my close ones. No longer do I want to feel safe behind the distance. I do not want to feel alone anymore. I do not want to live alone any longer. 'Cause feeling alone is what I've done all my life. And being alone what I had created around me.



Yours truly,

Carolina

Once upon a time...

I went to the edge of my ability. Once upon a time I had to cross my line. Once upon a time I was brave enough as to finally jump over. Only to find another wall inside.
So I turned back to where I once had come from. Went back to where I had crossed my line. Revisited what had forever been a safety, stepped in to what had always been mine. I went back, as I had reached the edge of my ability. I went back in the search of a place to call my own. I sat down and again imagined you beside me. Sat down and saw the way you and me once were. How happy you'd always seemed beside me. How safe I'd always felt hiding there behind you. I thought I'd return to my peace coming here. I thought I had turned back to my comfort. But what I now faced was a big, empty hollow. And where I now sat weighed heavy on my heart. Yet, for a while I lingered there now without you. For a while I gave it my one more chance. But there was nothing there for me to return to. Nothing to find my comfort in. So sitting there I reached the point of my 'goodbye', and rising up I left my emptiness behind me. With me I now carry the gift you put in front of me, and in me I cherish the strength you gave my heart. Leaving, you did tell me I'd not remain what I had been. Leaving, you told me I'd now be moving forward. But moving without you has felt so uneasy. And changing without you a test on my soul. But being back I now can see what I have turned away from. Being back I now miss what I've become.
Once upon a time, you came, and I always knew your value. I always did know you'd leave me strong. But I did not know I'd need to come find you. I did not know I'd need this love from afar. Once upon a time, I in my uneasiness took a step back in search for my comfort. Only to find the discomfort of what used to be mine.



Love,

Carolina

The merciless child.

There you are. My mirror. My merciless one. Everything I do not want to see, you show me. You and your stubborn reflection. I so would like to ignore some things. I so would like to shut my eyes. But you just keep reflecting, and everywhere I go your reflection follows me. I cannot look at myself without seeing you, and I cannot see myself without looking at you. No matter how much I may try to change you, you simply refuse to adjust. Your cold, relentless being always stays the same. Sometimes I would like to brake you. Sometimes I would like to cover you up and ignore what you are. And often I wish you would stop reflecting. To not take your task so seriously. You seem to never cut me any slack. To never have any understanding. Is it really too much to ask for you to uphold a perfect image. To simply mirror without flaw. To bend yourself and reflect some mercy. No. You do not want to change for me. You do not want to bend, brake or cover up for me. So is it wrong of me to then sometimes despise you. To sometimes recent what you are. And tell me, what should I do when you are here because I chose to have you. When your nature is to be my reflection. How can I see myself without looking at you? And how can I look at you, when right now you are all I do not want to see.


Love,

Carolina

How can I be bitter?

When the person I was once supposed to be with for always led another life. When who wanted to keep me left me for another. When words were proven to have no worth, to contain no integrity. When trust was broken and hearts ripped out. How can I be bitter? How can I be bitter at someone who broke me into pieces. Who took away all my safety. Who showed me that all can go wrong with commitment. How can I be bitter at someone who had me lose it all. Who gave me noting more to lose. Who enabled me to rebuild myself. Who gave me courage, who gave me strength. Who enabled me to rise above it all, and finally believe in my passion.

When I was put aside. When I was given the cold shoulder. When I was taken for granted. When I forever walked home alone, and every morning woke up lonely. When all I had to give never was enough. How can I be bitter? How can I be bitter, when that loneliness is what tipped me over. When that desperation, that frustration, that never ending fight for love and connection, is what made me finally have enough and believe in my worth.

When I was misled and tricked out of a home. When I was belittled as a being. When others' greediness put my life, my creativity and my income on hold. When all I had planned had nowhere to go. When all I had, was nowhere that was my own. How can I be bitter? How can I be bitter at someone who forced me to cry out for help. Who made me look at myself and revaluate my choices. How can I be bitter at someone who led me to a home beyond my dreams, to friends beyond my expectations, to creativity in new dimensions. How can I be bitter at someone who gave me proof to trust the truth of what is.

How can I be bitter at something that has gotten me this far. That has enabled me to believe in all that I want. And how can I hold a grudge against the ones who made me lose my way so badly, as to find the greatest thing of all.

How can we be bitter?


Love,

Carolina

Why?

Why? Because I am not unique. None of us is. Because I am not alone. None of us are. I am alone in nothing I have felt or gone through. You've all felt it. At least some. Because you are like me. And I a part of you. We are all the same. But we are all good at forgetting that. At shutting ourselves in. At keeping each other out. At making ourselves alone. At feeling shame for what is normal. At keeping secrets about what is the truth.
So why? Because I want us to be here together. I want you all to know me. Because I am not alone. And I am not unique. I am you. And you are me. But I am noone as long as I'm alone. I am noone until I show myself in you.


Love,

Carolina

For the damned.

I grew up with mirrors. Glued to the palms of my hands. These mirrors are what has made me strong. These mirrors are what has taught me about myself. About the way I love, the way I live. About why I cry. They have molded and made me. But they had to brake me first. They had to make my hands bleed. To become too heavy to bare. As with these mirrors - in the reflection of my glittering hands - I lost myself completely. With these mirrors, I carried the responsibility of everyone around me. With hands like these, when faced with injustice - you don't fight. When in presence of bad - you don't hide. With mirrors like these, you cannot cover your eyes. As all you do is see yourself. What you have done wrong. What you have said. With mirrors like these, you become the fault to every action taken against you. And the guilty become the innocent.
With mirrors glued to the palms of my hands, I was left defenceless. Where my hands should have been my protection, they had instead become the protectors of the very things that hurt me. My hands - my mirrors - a safe haven for the damned around me.


Love,

C

But it only happened in my dreams.

Baby, I was afraid to look at you. I was afraid of stepping out into the light. Of leaving my dreams - of entering the world. See baby, I had been dreaming in my solitude. I had been surviving on a reflection, an echo of my dreams. Baby, I had looked so hard, and tried even harder. But I had not achieved what my daydreams brought me. Baby, my solitude was my reality, my dreams what kept me seeing through. And from the peace and warmth I dreamt about, I most often awoke to conflict. Baby, in a constant battle of contradiction, I put faith in stubbornness to turn my worlds around. But I could not manage, my dear, as the decisions were not mine. Yet, I went through it all, my dear. I led the contradiction, I sustained the mirage. I felt the cold of waking up from warmth, the bafflement of my reality. I got so disorientated, my love, between what was and what could be. So I had to plummet into nothing, my love. To descend in between my worlds. I had to start from the beginning, my love. To this time choose my side. Now I live my dreams with you, my love. Now I daydream of reality. Now I live the warmth of love, my love. No more am I cold. You are not only my dream, my love. You are what made my dreams come true.



To S.W.A.


Lovelovelove, my love.

Carolina

Leave me rosy cheeks.

I might not have met you yet. I might have spent a lifetime with you. I might have blushed with everything from infatuation to intimidation because of you. You might have made me yell or laugh until my face was red. I might have broken down completely because of you, or simply brushed up against you. I might have read about what you've done, or made you up with my imagination. Be it anyone or none of these, you have and will still affect me. It might just be that you - at this very moment - are reading this, completely oblivious to the power that you hold. Unaware of what simply your existence can awaken in someone. You, all of you, are the source to what is my inspiration. You are what continues to give me the feeling of a life worth living. So however small or insignificant you may think you are - you are not. You have the power to awaken in someone everything you see here. It's you who leave me rosy cheeks. You, and only you.




You are my inspiration.




Love,


Carolina




You are warmly welcome to my art exhibition
"Leave me rosy cheeks"
held at Gumbostrand Konst & Form
Grand opening Saturday 28.11.2015 from 13-15
Exhibition open 27.11.2015-3.1.2016
www.konstoform.fi
Young artist of the month

Good as gold.

Why do you love the ones that hurt me. Why do you not leave them all behind. Why do you exaggerate my strength and belittle the bruise they cause me. Why are they weak, and I not frail to their faults? I wonder why you care so much what they think of me. Why you not ask that of yourself. And why are they so worthy? Why not me - or you - instead.

Of all the worth you see in them, did you ever find it in yourself? As you stared into the fire, did you dim your own light down? Did you scatter yourself along with all the ashes, did you bury yourself deep down inside. Do you ever question if it is you whom he abandoned. Do you ever way your worth to what he chose. Or do you reminisce the way he looked at you, and do you then reflect yourself in those eyes. Because he did not mean to hurt you. He did not mean to disappear. He did not want you to suffer. To neglect the girl whose freedom was his love. Whose safety was his existence. Whose worth was found in the lap that too soon was gone.



Love from beyond,

Carolina

And then there was you.

There was her.



She was a child, a sensitive child. A child that inhaled every word, loved a bit too much and needed what was not there to be given. What no one could understand.
 She was a sensitive soul, and she needed to be good. To be comfortable for the ones around her. To make it easy, to fit in. So she shut herself up and locked herself in. In her flaw of being too much, she wrapped herself and hid it away. And baring a tight cloth of shame, she became an embodiment of contradictions, always afraid of never being enough - of forever being too much.



Then there was you.



You, who found what was hidden, as if you had already known what to look for. You, who saw what she thought no one wanted to see. You, who knew exactly how to treat her. You, who came from out of nowhere and loved her like you had known the girl that once had inhaled every word. The girl who had loved a bit too much, who had needed what was not there to be had. And without her knowing, you made it past her previous lifetime. Without her knowing, you carefully found your way through all she had scattered along her path. You gently asked for her hand to rest in yours, as she unwrapped herself. As she reconnected with her shame. And as she unravelled her cloth in tears, you were there to kiss her. You took her in your arms and you carried her. You carried her through all she thought would never be enough, and up above all she had feared would always be too much. And what she had thought was her burden, suddenly became her strength. What had been surrounded by dark, was now her source of light. With the light in your eyes, with the strength of your love, she had finally found her resurrection.



And then there was us.






To my Sam.




Love,


Carolina

He's a hunter, he's a fisherman, he's a dentist. He's my father.

728 days ago I wrote this. And it still applies. It will always apply.

"This one is for you, Pap.

I think you will never fully understand the effect you have had on my life, and how much I truly adore you. How thankful I am for the hard times you and I had, and for the love that was strong enough to turn all of that into good. You have one of the kindest hearts I know. And you know how to fix just about anything. You are the one I can always call, knowing you'll always answer with the same happy hello. I don't know how many times you told us to be tolerant - to have tolerance - but the times were countless, and they payed off. You have succeeded in making a tolerant bunch out of the three of us. And all the adventures you stubbornly took us upon, taught me that there is no dream impossible enough to follow. One only needs to have enough patience to see the dream come true. You are the father who congratulated me when I decided to quit my job and take a leap of faith into the unknown. Your words - and your enthusiasm - gave me all the courage I needed - when I needed it the most. I am proud of you and I love you. So stand up straight, and be proud of yourself. Love yourself. Because you have done a good job. You are the best father you could be. And I love you for being you."

Happy Father's Day. 

Love,

Nina

To Nina.

All I know today is because of you. You gave me the gift of understanding. Because of you I know of life. I understand so many more. I know of darkness, I know of hurt. I know of a heavy heart, of immense loneliness. I know of not being enough and of being too much. You carried a burden far bigger than your size. You were strong enough to let me see the other side of life. To begin from darkness.
And to rise.

You are now looking at me proudly, your smile peaceful, your eyes glittering of "I told you so". You always knew we would make it. And in you I see I am ready now. The moment we have been waiting for is here. And you and me - together we are ready to say goodbye to what was. We are ready to change. To embrace the light. To accept the warmth that has been coming. To touch life. We have overcome our biggest fear, defeated what we once shied away from. To be bare. To allow intimacy. With arms and heart wide open in front of another. For another.

The eyes we once knew, they are here now. And with them has come my turn to carry you. To free you from the burden I once gave for you to bare. Now is your time to play. To be careless. To feel accepted. To giggle relentlessly. To shine and revel in the light that is you.

I am now taking your hand and never letting go. We're moving into the light. We are now ready to be the woman we always were supposed to be. Our new life has arrived. Infinity was brought to us in an instant. You can breathe now, my darling. You are safe to love. To feel happiness. To show yourself. This is true. You are free now. And I've never been prouder. You have done your part. You've walked a long road. And for all you've done, I thank you.

You are free now.



Love,

Carolina

Castaway.

If you've ever had a cast, you'll know how it feels when that cast finally comes off. You'll know how fragile the skin is, how tender and awkward it feels. You'll know the tingling feeling of when the hairs on your skin start to rise again. You'll know how a small breath of air can feel like a giant just brushed up against you. How vulnerable your skin is to any outer contact and how you need to be aware of the right pace, of not exposing yourself to too much too soon.

It's the same exact experience when you make the conscious decision to finally reveal yourself. Your vulnerability. When you decide to remove the cast you've so tightly held around yourself. It's the same sort of awkwardness. You feel as exposed, as fragile and exactly as scared of being touched. And left at the complete mercy of your sensitivity to change.

I'm at that point now. I've removed the cast. I'm starting to feel the wind of fresh air reach me. The tenderness of another touch my core. I've felt how a gentle stroke can carry the force of fire. How waves of kindness wash over me, asking to carry me out to sea. And I'm feeling all the fears that go with it. All the reflexes that want me to shy away, to cover up again. To protect myself. Those reflexes - they're strong. But I've led a life where I've protected myself. And therefore, I've led a life where I've wondered if this really is all there is to it. It has been a life where l haven't allowed another to take a part of all there is to me. The truly vulnerable me. The exposed me. And I've come to the conclusion that I don't want to live my life protected by a cast. I don't want to find all my safety in solitude anymore. I want to accustom myself to the fire. To not shy away when warmth reaches me. I want to go out to sea and experience all there is to it, not only what I hid under my cast from before. So no more castaway. Now is the time to cast the cast away.



See you on the other side.


Love,

Carolina

Together forever.

It might seem easy to write a Facebook update. And yes, in both theory and practice, it is. It's no more than putting one word after another and publishing it - and there you have it: one of trillions of updates put on a FB wall. But sometimes they aren't that easy to post. Sometimes they take an enormous amount of courage. Sometimes behind two lines stems years of losing oneself and months of finding one's way back. I remember my first update of this kind. It's quite hard to forget, since I started living my dream thanks to it. It was January 16, 2013, and it went as follows:
"Will paint a painting out of the first theme anyone of you comes up with. Give it to me! :)"
Seems so simple. But in order to write - and post - this tiny little two-line-plus-one-smiley update my life first needed to fall apart completely.

I can be stubborn. And if you combine that stubbornness with fear - well then you have a winner. You have a person who will do anything to keep things the way they are. Even sacrifice themselves. I had become this person. I had become the person who had started to sacrifice herself for the good of a relationship. For the good of a family in the making. For the good of a stable life. A safe life. I had devoted myself completely into making this relationship work. And then - in one night - it was all taken away from me. In one night what I had been working on for seven years to be my life, became the life of another woman. It literally made me want to die. And at the same time, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Because, as I told you, I can be stubborn. And when you combine that stubbornness with fear - well then you also get a person who will not listen to her gut feeling anymore. Who does not want to see the signs. Who does not want to count the nights she's spending alone. Who does not want to admit how wrong it is that she's sitting with half a cooked lamb on a perfectly set table, a fridge full of hand made chocolate-dipped marzipan eggs, that it's Easter and she is sitting there - once again - alone. She will even accept "work" as an excuse - all because she does not want to lose everything she's worked so hard on at making work.

But I did lose it all. All of my hard work did go down the drain. (Unlike the chocolate-dipped marzipan eggs. Them I ate.) I lost everything that had felt safe in my life. And all at once. My relationship - and with that a huge chunk of my future. My financial independency - as my partner had asked me to work less, since he was so busy at work. (I know...) And, on top of it all, I had a serious scare with my health, where I got to picture myself spending my last days on this earth sitting on the cliffs of our lovely little paradise island, overlooking the sea, dying in peace. (I can also be dramatic...) I was so frickin' stubborn that I had to learn the hard way that having "everything" is what kept me from not doing anything. That being "safe" is what made me scared. And that all of this was paralyzing me and keeping me from living a life I would die happy from. I had to lose everything in order to find my courage. In order to brake the illusion of safety. And I had to admit to myself, that none of what happened came as a surprise, as my gut had tried to tell me the truth - over and over again.

So stubborn me had no choice but to start respecting the power of the gut and admitting the importance of listening to it. So a few months later I quit what remained the last "safe" thing in my life - my job. I had no idea where exactly I was headed, but I knew where I didn't want to be. It was scary (and exciting) as hell, but my gut told me I would be fine. And then came January 16. Eight months after my previous life had been given to someone else, something in me told me to write those words and publish them. My brain wanted to panic. It kept telling me "But what if your painting does not turn out to be a good enough one? What if you once again choke - as you've done so many times before - and never finish the painting? How embarrassing isn't that: you put it out on FB and then you don't even deliver? Or worse: you put it out on FB and nobody likes it! That's bad... That's even worse!" (The brain can be a picnic of a friend sometimes...) So I heard what my brain said, but I decided not to listen, as listening to my brain had gotten me really nowhere in life, except stagnation and dissatisfaction. Listening to my gut on the other hand, had proven to be a winner. And my gut told me to post. So I did. It was seriously one of the scariest things I had done so far. And one that truly paid off. I found my passion thanks to doing it. That tiny little gesture is what put me on my path. So now I'm hooked. This seriously is a relationship I am never giving up on. My gut and I - together forever.



Megalove,

Carolina

Paradise.

There was a time when we laughed together. All of us. When we sang to Clapton, danced to Springsteen, hugged each other and appreciated every moment we were blessed to have together.

Then, suddenly, one of us was lost. Swept away. Our humble one. Our calm one. Our friend, our father, our beloved one. And with him, we were lost. With his passing, what we thought would never brake, broke. Words we never thought would be said, were. Our differences rose to the surface, and with it our weakest link revealed: our intolerance for imperfection.

We had the chance to learn the essence of true love, the part that keeps a family together - acceptance. But we chose another path. We chose war. We chose to make war on our brothers in arms.
We are the fools who made war on our brothers in arms...


You are in my thoughts.


Love,

Carolina

Got dumped?

I have. Several times, I might ad. (Well, I am already almost 34.) And in all of these dumpings - with a drama scale that has varied from everything between 'none' to 'The Bold And The Beautiful ain't got nothing on me' kind of drama - there has been one common factor to them all: all have left without an explanation. Now we all know how frustrating that can be: silence. Not getting closure. The infamous closure... It meddles with our brains and eats at our self confidence, until we finally drink one too many at some random girls/guys night out and demand for answers. Because we seem to think we cannot move on without these answers. But whyyy do we need this closure?? Closure won't change the fact that what happened happened. Closure certainly won't change the way it happened. Closure won't make the hurt or sorrow disappear. And closure won't fix our bruised ego. Or will it? I think that is exactly what we look for in closure: proof of worth. Because getting dumped hurts our ego. So we want to hear that we did mean something. That we do mean something. That there's nothing wrong with the way we are. But looking for that proof of self worth in others is not the way to go, as it can - and should - only be found in ourselves. So the less of an explanation we need and the less we demand - the better we will feel. I promise. Because the way someone else chooses to be has nothing to do with us. The way others treat us tells us nothing about ourselves, but everything about them. And vice versa. We all do the best we can. And if we don't - well, then that's our problem, isn't it? So since closure won't change fact, then why bother meddling? Why not focus upon what is important instead: ourselves. Us moving on. And what if the reason might be as big of an enigma for the other as it is to us. May even be the reason why they had to leave without an explanation...


Big love,

C

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My dark place.

Have you ever seen a picture of the earth, taken from outer space, where it lies in the midst of dark, calm in its own shadow, quietly surrounded by the vacuum of space. And as it lays there, suddenly the sun reaches the corner of the world where it hits the horizon, creating a growing ray of light - ultimately beaming with such force and intensity, that it leaves any possible spectator in a state of awe, blinded and mesmerized by the magic of the moment.
    Now imagine this moment - but without the dark. What would it be? The light wouldn't shine, as it had no place to shine from. There would be no contrast, no power, no magnificence. That's what makes the dark so beautiful: it simply makes the light shine. As does the dark inside and around us enable us to shine. But only if we so choose. This is where we are a powerful being, above the laws of nature: we do have to power to choose this. We can choose to let the dark be overpowering. We can choose to never let the sun hit our horizon. Or we can choose to use the dark as the force that makes our light shine even brighter, with even more power and intensity.
    This is how I choose to use my dark. I choose to turn the challenging things I go through in life as the source from which my light is able to grow even bigger and forever more beautiful. And this is why a sense of melancholy might reach some of you at times - through my words, my pictures or my paintings. As it is there. Because I want it there. I so value the contrast that it gives me. As without it, my light would be dimmer. My waves wouldn't glitter with gold. My morning and evening skies wouldn't be painted with all the hues of pink. Without it my light would have nowhere to rise from...


Yours truly,

Darth Vader

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The secret to my perfect buns.

Making great things happen in life is a lot like making great cinnamon buns. No matter how much effort you put into getting top of the line ingredients, mixing, measuring and kneading of the dough - it'll all be in vain if you stick them buns in the oven without having the patience to let the dough rise.
    Achieving personal greatness is quite the same: know what you want (be it perfect buns or some other dream), equip yourself with what is needed, put plenty of love and your best effort into it, and then: have patience. Let the greatness rise. Enjoy the anticipation of what is to come. The best goddamn buns in town.


In honour of the upcoming international cinnamon bun day on October 4.


Kiss,

Carolina

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She's cold as ice. (Finally.)

I don't care anymore. For once in my life I am able to honestly, sincerely say, that I don't care. I don't care what others do, say, feel, think, choose, are. Anymore. Finally. Finally I've found the place in myself, where I feel safe enough in myself to be able to let my surroundings be exactly what they are. And respect what that 'exactly' is. I finally care so much, that I don't have to care anymore.
    Because what we so often call 'caring' is in reality simple meddling. We "care", so we try to steer our object of this care in the "right" direction. We think, and tell ourselves (and our object), that we do all of this - just because we care. So much. So, so, sooo much. That we only want what's best for our object. And so we meddle. Oh, sorry, we care. But is what we feel is right or best, a definite right or best for our object? Or isn't it right or best only for ourselves and/or in our opinion? (If you really stop and think at this point, you will surely realise that there are as many perceptions of  'right' and 'best' as there are personalities.) So do we then really care about our object, if we don't even care enough to respect what our object feels he/she wants or chooses to be or do?
    So yes, I've finally stopped (this kind of) caring. I can finally love and respect all you guys so much that I won't even care if you think I'm cold as ice for not caring anymore.


Lovelovelove,

C

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Love doctor.

How do you move on after you've had your heart broken? How do you get over that someone treated you badly? Cheated, ignored, lied, dismissed, betrayed, belittled you... All while disguising themselves in love.
    How do you get over that feeling of hopelessness and into that space where you still believe in love with fresh eyes? You ignore. You ignore what happened to you. You don't take it with you as a lesson; as something to forgive, but not forget. That's bullcrap I tell you. The trick is to forget. To forget and to ignore. You ignore what you don't like, what doesn't make you feel good. And you focus on what does. What did. I know it sounds so simple, and might feel hopeless. But it's really the best way to have a chance at a fresh start and a bright future. Or would you suck at a lollipop that tasted like old socks, just to remember what old socks smell like? I don't think so.


Love,

C

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Scarlett Johansson in a bikini.

Ladies, 

I know many of you will recognize this (unfortunately). If not through the role of the voyeur then probably through the role of the object. It's womanhood's Mordor: 
How we give eachother the evil eye.

We see headlines promising us Scarlett Johansson in a bikini. We don't click. (Unless it is to make ourselves feel bad or worse than we already do.) We see headlines promising us Scarlett Johansson in a bikini. But this time - with cellulite. Fanfare goes off in our heads, and there's a 99% chance we click. For oh, how we thrive in the proof of her imperfection. How we instantly feel better knowing she's not that superiour to us after all. For a beautiful woman is a threat. The biggest there is. At least we act like it. And in order to make her less of a threat, we desperately look for proof of imperfection or try to make her feel bad about herself. This happens when we pass eachother on the street or stand next to eachother in front of the bathroom mirror at a bar. It's a battlefield. We don't see eachother as friends, but as enemies. 

What is it that is so harmful, so personal to us, about another woman's exterior? Why do we have to look for flaws in others in order to feel better about ourselves? It's brutal; we're basically wishing ill on others in order to gain confidence in ourselves. 
Why? Is it for the men? Because if it is, then we really need to take a hard look in the mirror. And instead of comparing our bodyparts with one another's, start realising how demeaning we're being to ourselves and to eachother. How little value we put into ourselves. We're basically just here to be the prettiest one. The one who gets the man.
Let's seriously think about that for a moment. 



Yours truly, 

C

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Walking around in dirty laundry.

What defines us? What defines who we are?
Is it what we do? How we act? How we interact? How we talk to or about ourselves? How we talk to or about others? The choises we make - or don't make? What we show of ourselves? What others make us up to be? Our possessions or lack thereof? The smile we wear?

Or is it what we keep hidden that has the power? Our dirty laundry.
Our insecurities. Our shame. Our fear. Our secrets.
Is it the things we hope noone will find out about us, that prevent us from living the way we'd truly like? Is it the shame of past failure and/or mistakes that keeps us from trying again? Is it the fear of being exposed for what and who we truly are that makes us build walls around us?

What is it that defines us?
These insecurities? These fears? These secrets?
Or the fact that we let these things define us?


Love,

C

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Bad, bad boy.

It's not our job to understand the reason for other people's (bad) behaviour. To dig for the source of (in our opinion) all evil. Because we'll dig ourself into crazy if we start looking for the root of all action. As it is none of our business, nothing we need to understand. The only thing we need to understand is that behind every action there is a reason. A valid reason. For that particular person. That noone intentionally means to do harm. And if someone does, there is a reason for such. (Can you imagine the hurt one must feel if one feels the need to purposely spread hurt over others?) 

    Compassion, acceptance and understanding. That's what will make our own world more enjoyable. Very enjoyable, in fact. But still, some feel the need to hold on to the "right" to judge other people's behaviour - in the name of justice. Their perception of justice. Stubbornly holding on to the right to not let wrongdoers off the hook so easily. For bad behaviour is something one needs to be punished for... But it's not our right to act as a court of law on other people's behaviour. It's not our job nor right to parent others into our own ways. Into what feels comfortable for us. Because if we go on that path there will always be someone who thinks they're more right than us. Someone who'll put us in the defendant stand. Someone who'll parent us. Our own personal judge. Always. 

    So to practice compassion and acceptance for difference is what ultimately will make us feel free. Not building prisons for others.

Love,

C

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Like plum pie - and the crap that goes with it.

This is about intentions and outcome.

Do you think you can expect the outcome to be what you wished for, if your intent on how to get to that outcome is through concealment of your true intentions?
    Surely, one cannot be surprised that the outcome isn't what one hoped it would be, if one wasn't being honest about one's true intentions in the process. It's like having the intention to bake an apple pie, whilst using plums instead of apples. No matter what one's intentions were, one will still end up with a plum pie - and the crap that goes with it.

Love,

C

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Tinder ladies! (And gents.)

Whose responsibility is it to prove to us that what has happened to us in the past is not going to happen to us again? (Meaning experiences that have hurt us.) The next guy's/girl's? The guy/girl after the next one? 'Cause the guy/girl before proved to be a little bit better, but not completely. The third or forth guy/girl? Maybe not, but surely the fifth one has to be the one who proves they are not all jerks/the nagging type.

    NO. It's no one's responsibility. No one's but our own. We so often move from one relationship or meeting to another expecting the person we meet to change our view of people, to heal and fix all our past wounds. To prove to us - once and for all - that "they are not all like that". And we need to admit it; that this is what we do. We look for a partner to fix everything from a broken home, a father who never kept his promises, a mother who never said 'I love you', an ex who lied or cheated, to the lack of hobbies or the bad habits we have. And for as long as we expect someone else to carry all that responsibility, all the burdon of our past experiences, be The Perfect One who just magically changes our whole perception of people, we will never have it. As long as we keep treating the past as proof of how our present and future might be, it will be just that. (Try it if you like. It's true.) It's up to us to change our perception and our expectations. No one else. And if we keep looking to the past for "guidance" on how things will work out, how people are, we will never be able to change the wrong into the right.

    We are so used to comparing what we do have to what we did have. "He/she is more reliable than my ex", "He/she is more loving than my ex", "He/she doesn't drink as much as my ex", "He/she is less clingy than my ex".... We think this is giving compliments, being positive about the new person, but - once again - we are dragging the past into the present, somehow expecting the new person to prove the old one wrong. How can they do so if we keep focusing on the old? And can we focus on the old and still see the new one for who and what he/she really is? No, we can't. Because our main focus will be on the old, on the bad that we are trying to protect ourselves from. Doing all of this means we are not even capable of expecting anything other than similar or same experiences to what we've already had. And if we can't expect anything other than the old, we we will never see anything other than the old. And we can't meet what we cannot see... 

    The only way to meet someone totally new, someone who will prove them all wrong, is to stop digging for proof in our past. I'm sure you wouldn't agree that you yourself are proof of what someone else has done? 

    So before you swipe right the next time, be sure you've swiped your past to the left. And maybe the right swipe will get the chance of being your mr/mrs right.

Good luck!

Love,

C

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The what?

In our traditional minds experiences vanish as the people we experience them with do. In our traditional minds experiences are depended on persons, defined by persons; we think that what happens us is determined by who we at that moment share the eventuality with.
But it is not so. It is not who we experience something with that creates the moment. It's what we experience. The 'who' can change. The 'who' will in all likeliness change. It is the 'what' that will remain. The 'what' will continue to stay a fact. Let's take love felt and lost for example: the love does not vanish with the person - only the person does. It goes for magical weekend trips and getaways as well; the moments do not become less true simply because the person you witnessed them with shifts. You saw the magic, you felt the moment - the experience was real. The reality of what happened in and around you is not depended on the person you shared the moment with.
So if you're crying over a love lost - because we so often cry over love, as we think we lose it with a person - try changing the fact that you did love into proof that you do love. Because only that is forever here for you: the experience. The 'what'.


- As true and existing as a river flows through the shapes of the earth, so does my heart beat for times lost and times had. In peace, I find you always there. Always. -


Love,

C

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Wrinkle, wrinkle little star.

I am a woman of 33,5 years. 25 of which I have spent hating myself. Hating and ashamed of the body I had been given. Already self-conscious as a three-year-old little girl, hating her large knees. May sound ridiculous to some, but my hate and shame for this particular body part haunted my existence. And this self-consciousness, this harsh self-critique, followed me around and determined my whole youth, taking control of every aspect of my life. I would avoid going out and living, in order to stay deep inside the darkness of myself hating who I was. Disgusted by every inch of me. And if I did get out with the happy and the living, all my energy - the whole experience - would be overshadowed by my fear of someone looking at me and realising the disgust I was. This is what I thought of myself.
    It took for me to turn 28 years old, when one day - as I was bending down blow-drying my hair - I caught a glimpse of my knees and it was like seeing them for the first time. Time stopped. Because after 25 years of seeing them one way, I suddenly could find nothing wrong with them. They were simply knees. My knees. My beautiful, strong knees. The same knees my father has. Oh my god, the feeling when you are finally free from a self-hatred you've carried on for so many years. It's like exhaling after holding one's breath for a quarter-century! In an instant I became light as a feather. Air reached my cells and gave new life to the stagnated body I had trapped myself in to. I felt the freedom of a huge releaf.
    I believe that everything we go through in life is for our best. With every experience, good or bad, we can choose to make the best out of it and grow into being even better human beings. I wouldn't want to change a single thing I've gone through, none of the years of me hating myself. But I would like to share what my experience of years and years of being steered by this overwhelming feeling of shame has taught me:
    Life without the stress of putting one's value as a human being into one's body is a life worth experiencing.
    It took me years to get to the bottom of my self-hatred, and from there a journey up to the surface of myself. But it was so worth it. I still have the same knees I was born with, I still have my easily strechmarkable skin type, my fluffy hairs on my lower back (yes, I am pointing them out to you right now!) and my father's big toes. But to me those things are not problems anymore. They are not what define me as a human being. But they are what sets my body aside from everybody elses. What makes me carved out in my own way. They are what makes me a little bit imperfect. And we all need to allow ourselves to be imperfect. Because pure perfection is dull. It's the beauty of our flaws that perfect us. That make us who we are. So if we learn to love what is our weakest point, we will thereby strip the weakness of its power, and we ourselves will become strong.
    So this is to the love I feel for my wrinkles of a woman of 33,5 years. Let them wrinkles wrinkle and them eyes twinkle. 

Bisous darlings.

Love,

C

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My furry disguise.

When I was young, I was so quiet that people would forget I existed. It was a lonesome world, but so safe. There was only me and my thoughts. My eyes on everyone else. My ears listened, and I answered within myself. Noone knew my world, what I was thinking. Nor what I felt. I was so shy I would blush if someone even looked at me. Attention was something I didn't know how to handle. I couldn't even understand why I would have it; why someone would want to look at me. Or hear me. Noone had access to me - except for my dog. My dog got to see me. Got to know me. Got to hear me. I allowed only my dog to love me. Now, facing the feeling that I soon need to throw away my dear Doni's stuff, since it will be a month from his passing, I am faced with the reality that what worked as my safety wall when I was young, has served as my furry disguise several years later still. Because without him I'm faced with the truth that I once and for all need dare let human beings get close and love me. And that's the scariest thing I've ever had to face.
    I know I'm not alone with this fear. And I know animals are a great part of our lives. But they, and the unconditional love they embody, can also be a great disguise for us to hide behind and find safety in. I need to get out there now.

For my Doni.

Love,

C

Welcome to the jungle.

Advice. To take or not to take other people's advice. Which advice to listen to and which to ignore. Is a jungle. Until you learn how to separate the good advice from the bad. There is so much bad advice out there. Most of it is bad, and that's what makes it feel like a jungle. I'm all for learning from other people and other people's experiences - but not when the advice tells me everything I can't do. To teach someone what is not possible is not wisdom or experience. It is fear. And it is excuses. Because there is nothing in this world that is not possible to do, achieve or attain. There are only opinions on what is or is not possible. And an opinion is merely a thought. And a thought holds just as much power as you give it. So why give it the power to restrict you, when you could give it the power to free you? Seriously.
    We seem to live in a society where the ones who tell us what is not possible are the credible ones. Like they hold the wisdom and knowledge to the reality of life. And the ones who believe in the greater good, in change based on positivity and huge, beautiful dreams, are perceived as the naive ones who sadly just don't understand the reality of this world. What a small world it would be if all the truth and power was in the impossible...
    So if your world feels small, restricted or boxed in, maybe it's time to go through whose advice you have been listening to. And if you are the one giving advice, I urge you to take responsibility of the power you have been given, and choose your words carefully and wisely. Because the one who teaches what is possible is the one who will help change this world. To believe in what is possible is the only way to thrive, since without that we are left with only the possibility of stagnation and deterioration. So do not listen to other people's fears. Listen to who tells you that whatever you want is yours.

Love and only love,

C

Words from Michael Jackson's song "We are the world". Highly recommend believing and listening to that advice.

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"As media sexy as leprosy."

That's how much the media cares about the elderly population. That's how much attention we pay to the elderly: we look at them just enough as not to seem inconsiderate or disrespectful - and then we look away.
    My mission is to find one elderly person who is in need of love, care and a respectable and dignified rest of his/her life. My aim is to give him/her all that he/she needs. Because that is what all of us are worthy of - until the sweet end. We do not come to this earth to start preparing for a lonely death years before it mercifully takes us away.
    I do not yet know how all of this will come to be or who this person will be, but I'm trusting that when I put my intentions out there I will find my way. And one will become two, two will become three, and for as long as I live I will work on multiplying the number.

So if you have some magic up your sleeve, or powers you are not using, don't hesitate to emerge your sweet self with my vision. Let's make the media scream for these sexy elderly human beings.

Love,

C

Feel free to contact me at cgruner.art@gmail.com

Grow big.

With the social media of today many of us know plenty of what's going on in the world, and alot of it can wake some strong feelings and reactions in us. We see wrongdoings, exploitations, lack of empathy and humanity. And we feel disgust. Wishing things were different or didn't happen. We feel bad inside, our hearts affected by what we know is wrong. But we don't do anything about it. We only feel bad about it. We might talk about it with our friends or accuaintances, but it ends and stays there. We'd never dare really raise our voice and stand up against the wrongdoing - because we tell ourselves noone would listen. But there's always someone who listens. 
    A voice isn't always heard by an ear. There's this great thing, that really listens to what we say, called our conscience. Our conscience is a powerful tool. It thrives and grows from us doing good and standing up for what we believe in. Making ones conscience proud is one of the easiest ways to feel good about oneself, to grow and to feel as a better human being. It helps us love ourselves. Respect ourselves. And with that, we grow stronger. Our voice grows stronger. And the world grows stronger. 
    So to make a change is a simple as letting the world know what we think. That's all there is to it! We can even start by whispering - it doesn't matter - as long as we speak. Our whispers will become stronger as our conscience grows prouder. Because remaining silent is the same as quietly agreeing with what we think is wrong. And our conscience knows that. And we end up thinking less of ourselves. 
    So never underestimate the power you have. There is no such thing as a greater person or a stronger voice. We all have the same opportunity as the next. Every voice is as strong as the next. It's just that the strongest one is the one with the proud conscience.

Love,

C

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Don Quixote.

Many times I have been told that I am so "lucky". That good things just "seem" to happen to me. I know all of this is meant only well, but I would like to tell my side of that story. Because it isn't really how it might seem to be. And I do feel it is unfair to all that I do do, when someone puts all that happens to me up to luck. I do understand though, that unless one is on this side of the story one wouldn't know how much work it takes to help bring all that "luck" into ones life. To help make all of those good things happen. To help make. Because, as in everything in life, it takes work. And jumping into a dream head first in order to make that dream a reality takes alot of work. Luckily - I love work. As much so, that I have two definitions for work: physical work and elevating work. Physical work produces physical result. Elevating work helps us reach and preserve what we have achieved. What we love. We work on staying healthy, we work on our marriage, we work on our relationships, we work on being happy, we work on becoming better human beings... Luckily (again) I love both kinds.

    So now... Good things happen to me because I work for and on them to happen. I work on both works. I physically work and I work on myself. But, when I set out on a life dedicated to following my dreams, I never could have imagined the amount of elevating work that needed to be done. The amount of work that needs to be done on oneself in order to overcome all the obsticles one puts out there for oneself is mind-blowing. Seriously, we do not believe in ourselves enough. How little we believe is exceptionally apparent when the belief is put to the test. But also, we only find our true strength when in our weakest moment. 

    It's easy to work hard physically. But to create a world of ones own, to continue believing in ones vision when that vision for so many is considered naive or unrealistic, is not easy. It's like batteling both worlds of the story of Don Quixote. One side of oneself as Quixote himself believing so hard in the vision, and the other the reader who tells you it's just a fantasy. That's where the work really needs to be done: in continuing to believe in that ones dream is reality. Otherwise it isn't, and therefore never will be.

    So when you see someone who is living their dream, know they are working for it - really hard. And please support them in that dream. For the biggest battle they face is not with the world, but in persevering in believing in themselves. 

Love,

C

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Bring it.

You know when you dream something so strong and beautiful that when you wake up you really feel what happened in your dream was real? Because it felt real, it smelt real, the touch was real. With every cell in your body, with every emotion in and around you - it was real. And you already start to miss everything you experienced. So you try to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible, thinking about it throughout your day, painting over your reality with the softness of it, wishing you could still be there. But slowly life gains its strength and the magic of the sleeping moment starts to fade and weaken, and you eventually - after trying to grasp on to that feeling for as long as possible - tell yourself it was all "just a dream". And life goes on...
    I think many of us know this feeling. And we're probably all as sad to see the magic of that dream fade away. But we don't need to let it fade. We can work on finding and holding on to that feeling in our reality aswell. It just takes some faith, perseverance, dedication and determination. And soon we will be there again: in our dream. But in life this time.
   That's how dreams are made in to reality: you never stop believing that the reality of your dream was real.

Love,

C

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Unhappy lovesongs.

Is this world determined to be unhappy? Even lovesongs (so many of them!) are unhappy. Crying over what is not anymore, what should have been, what never got to be, what we or someone else did wrong... Isn't love supposed to be a happy thing? (Yes.) Every ounce of love we get is a happy thing!
    I recently accompanied my beloved dog friend Doni to higher grounds. For 6,5 years he was my best friend, us together always, through thick and thin. I got to enjoy his splendid company for 6,5 years. I would have wanted it to be 13. At least. Of course it's not easy losing a big part of one's life. To lose someone "before their time". That in itself is an excellent excuse to find life is being unfair to me now. I could justifiably spend my time crying, mourning and complaining over the 6,5 years we didn't have. I could feel all the shades of unfairness. How life is treating me unkindly. For he really was the biggest part of my life. Anyone who knows me knows that is true. So I could sing my unhappy lovesong right now. Or: I can be thankful. I can choose to rejoice and be happy for the 6,5 years that we did have. And I do. So many people choose the former though... Choose to feel they are being treated unfairly - by life or by other people. Choose to complain over the weather that it is not. Choose to count the money that they lack. Choose to stress about the time they don't have. Choose to focus on the blessings other people have, staying blind to the blessings they themselves do have. I find this to be sad. Why not be thankful for what we do have? We all have so much. If we only choose to see it. And appreciate it. There is nothing we will regret in life more than not living life. And we live life through appreciation for life. Appreciation of the moment. Appreciation of our loved one(s). Our health. Each other. Time. Rain. Money. Nature. Animals. Ancestors... Everything is worth being thankful for.
    I know I am finding my dear Donis passing to be easier to deal with because I did appreciate him when I had the joy of having him here. I have no regrets because of that simple thing called appreciation. I kissed him, I cuddled him, I took good care of him, I was thankful for him and I told him that almost every day (yes, of course I spoke to my dog). I loveloveloved him! And thanks to him continuing his journey (and me "losing" my friend) I now know how to live life without regret. And I am so, so happy and thankful for that. I know now to never love halfway. To never take anything or anyone for granted. To not waste time and life on complaining. As I already said: we have so much. And yet all we do is choose to complain. We have love. But we choose to sing unhappy songs about it. Let's not.

Love and a HUGE thank you to my Doni,

C

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Only human beings regret.

A life not led to the fullest, feelings not felt to the deepest. Love not expressed, moments not appreciated. Only humans regret. Only humans wish they would have had "one more chance". No other being on this earth lives this way. Every other being lives every moment as if it were the last. Therefore never regretting only giving half, only enjoying a little, only loving some.
Live without regrets, and you'll die happy - no matter when your time comes.

Love,

C & D

One.

To stand on ones own. To do for oneself. To have no one else as a filter for public opinion, criticism, feedback, thoughts... No one between oneself and the rest of the world. No company, no boss, no other person's ideals and visions. One easily becomes hard on oneself in this position. One easily scrutinises every aspect of what one does. What one says. The impression one gives. Every word one has written, every post, every painting, every product, every picture, every meeting... In a moment of insecurity can become the source of brutal inspection for oneself. And one becomes too hard on oneself. Because one only represents oneself. One does not represent anybody but oneself. One is therefore stripped down, bare and naked in front of everybody else. 
One feels surprisingly naked and vulnerable when one exposes ones heart in doing, showing, sharing - and standing behind - what one cares about the most.

Love,

C

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Imagine love.

I am an idealist. I have been ever since a little girl. Nothing touched me more than listening to John Lennon's "Imagine" and Michael Jackson's "Heal the world". Like them, I just couldn't understand why things couldn't be good. Why we all just couldn't join hands and stop treating eachother and this earth so bad. 

I still don't. And I never will. I will never comprehend the explanation "Just because. It's not realistic!"

We have created a world where kindness is considered weak. Where optimism is considered ignorant and idealism is defined as "unrealistic". How foolish of us to rule out the hope for change. 

Another definition for 'idealist ' is "impractical person". I couldn't care less if it's impractical - I'm still going to paint the world pink. And if we all paint the world pink, it will become pink. That's not ignorant or unrealistic, that's plain logic. And I am a true lover of logic.

Love,

C

(And of course, pink here symbolises the ideal 

thing called 'LOVE'.)

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Sprinkling pebbles like fairy dust.

Dreams. And the road that leads to dreams. Seems this road is percepted to be an impossibility these days. Something we are only capable of dreaming about: the road to our dreams. So we settle. We only talk about our dreams. Long for them. Dream about them. 

But actually dreams are much easier to achieve than we are tought. One needs only do one thing: stop listening to ones voice of "reason". Or other people's voice of reason. Even worse to listen to that one. If we choose to listen to a voice inside ourselves, why choose the voice that restricts us? The voice that narrows us and our lives? 

I make my dreams come true with pebbles. I actively build the road to my dreams with them. I sprinkle my pebbles around like fairies do fairy dust. Every pebble being a small action in the right direction - the direction of my dream. And here's the key word: small action. Who cares if you don't achieve everything at once or if you don't succeed greatly and galantly straight away. No one! Only you care. So stop being so hard on youself and fill those pockets with pebbles instead of mighty stones, and start sprinkling those pebbles all around you. And every time your faith starts to waver, google a picture of a beach and look at the amazing result of a thousand teeny tiny pebbles.

Love,

C

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