Search Results for: Roar Thorsen
TECKNA MÅLA. My father’s art supplies.
My father, Roar Thorsen (1930-2012), was my first art teacher. I grew up with his paintings on our walls, his meticulous scrapbooks/photo albums, his continuous creative process. In 1976 (we were back living in Sweden), my father taught me oil painting and he gave me his paint box, and easel from the 50’s and 60’s, and…
Unnecessary Violence and Ramblings- archiving of my Shadow Work Journals 1986 to present. Sample 44: June 22, 2012
This daily archiving series is about organizing and dating my journal collection, as well as acknowledging the self-directed violence as important therapeutic shadow work. Today’s journal spans poignant time. My father, Roar Thorsen, was unwinding and had just a few months left to live. We shared a deep friendship. We were working hard on our book…
What’s the question?
I wrote in my journal this morning- “At the end of the weekend – if I stay quiet – an answer will come.” But I’m not sure what the question is! What we’re really afraid of is to be in life, in step with it and not a step ahead of it, trying to control…
The birthday card, 1942.
A family treasure: Birthday card sent to my father in Sarpsborg, Norway, from my grandfather, Gunnar Thorsen, and fellow Norwegian soldiers (in German concentration camp) for my father’s 12th birthday Aug 8, 1942. GUNNAR THORSEN 1897-1970 After graduation from school my Dad decided to join the army. Thereafter he ended up in the…
Father, daughter, Fenrir, Gleipnir and “Drawn Together”- the book: 6 years later.
Wow. October 25, 2018 will mark the sixth year since my father passed away. I am so aware of all the dates in October… so aware that he was winding down. Interestingly, more October connections: on October 12, 2005 (13 years ago), my father drew for the first time after his life threatening stroke (September 21,…
Charming portraits of cats by my father 5 years after his stroke…
Going through my blog and archiving some imagery, I came across these charming drawings by my father– done in 2010, 5 years after a debilitating stroke.
The third letter home. November 18, 1968
Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe — Previous posts: Package of letters to Sweden A letter home. November 1, 1968 Dream. Letters. Thought and Memory. Writing exercise. The Second Letter. As these translations focus on the letters from my mother to her best…
60 years ago my mother became a mother. (Karin Kristina Orwald 1936 – 2008)
Decades are significant. 60 years ago my mother became a mother. 50 years ago we moved to Canada from Sweden. 50 years ago, my mother started to write letters home to Sweden. 30 years ago, my mother’s second grandchild was born. 10 years ago, I had my ear to my mother’s chest and listened as…
Dream. Letters. Thought and Memory.
I had a terrible dream last night. In the dream, I haven’t been home to visit my parents for four years. In the dream, they are still living at the house on Braemar (the one we moved into in 1977, the one before they downsized in 2004). In the dream, they are both as sick…
From the heart- a 15 day journal exercise Part 14: Dying Contemplation
I am re-reading Stephen Levine‘s A Year to Live- how to live this year as if it were your last as a personal exercise schedule to take time to slow down and truly listen to my heart. Recall: Part 1: Catching Up with Your Life Part 2: Practice Dying Part 3: Preparing to Die Part 4: Dying from the Common…
From the heart- a 15 day journal exercise Part 13: The Act of Dying
I am re-reading Stephen Levine‘s A Year to Live- how to live this year as if it were your last as a personal exercise schedule to take time to slow down and truly listen to my heart. Recall: Part 1: Catching Up with Your Life Part 2: Practice Dying Part 3: Preparing to Die Part 4: Dying from the Common…
We were drawn together on Saturday- and now I know why…
I love family. And we have shared so much- all the life markers, the ups and downs of life and through it all there is that special glue that connects us. We had an impromptu get together at my place on Saturday- somehow ALL of us (niece, nephew, brothers, sister in laws, daughter, son, daughter…
On Autumnal endings and beginnings in October
This is such a beautiful tender time of the year for me. The autumn is both a time of loss and renewal. My parents passed in the autumn, yet autumn is a time of new possibilities and fresh starts. Life/ death. The extremes? Or two sides of the same coin or exactly the same? For…
“Always, remember, you are the best.” No, you were, Pappa. #toliveuntilwesaygoodbye
My greatest cheerleader was my Dad. 4 years ago today, his heart stopped beating, but his spirit lives on. His pep talks were the best. “Always, remember, you are the best.” No, you were, Pappa. Our gift to you: Free PDF version of DRAWN TOGETHER, THE BOOK by Roar and Kat Thorsen! LINK
‘Be willing to be a beginner every single morning.’ Journaling exercise
Today you are a newborn and you are starting fresh! Draw a baby. Draw brainstorm bubbles above “your “head. Write about what it may be like to start fresh. Releasing anxiety and hesitancy. Brainstorm central themes in your life. Just let it happen. Be willing to be a beginner every single morning. – Meister Eckhart…
SOME PORTRAITS OF GRIEF.
For me, it is impossible to quantify grief. To qualify it. To define it. It comes as a surprise. It comes as a wave. It comes suddenly. Or it comes on slow. It can feel like nostalgia, anger, sadness, gratitude, drowning. It can be triggered. It can be low grade. It can be reassuring. It can…
The timeless/spaceless mid zone of creative process and chatting with the dead…
There is a beautiful part of my creative process that I cherish- the part that allows me to dialogue with my parents as if they are here in my kitchen, sharing coffee and offering advice and dialoguing on the cold case. I had some magical moments the other day as I pulled out old binders…
Stanley Park. Birds. Angel whispers. And Pledge Drive.
I walked around Beaver Lake today. I was infused by the profound beauty of nature. Warm sun. Blossoms. Skunk cabbage. Herons were dancing in the wind above the lake, ducks were courting and playing, chipmunks and squirrels scurrying. Chestnut-backed chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches landed on my hands. I describe the feeling as angel whispers. I took…
Daisy’s dilemma. 1947 and dark Disney imagery.
My current book project, Molly, is a creative non-fiction tragedy that centres around a suicide in 1947. Suicides were well publicized back then, often featured on the front pages of newspapers. Searching online images “suicide, 1947,” the image that inevitably comes up is the photo titled “the most beautiful suicide“- a haunting and iconic image. But as…
For me, art has no end- there is no end product… A drawing by my father.
I was staying over at my brother and sister-in-law’s place the other day, spending delicious time with my niece and nephew. I went to the downstairs washroom to wash my hands after Halloween costume mayhem… … and came across a drawing my father, Roar Thorsen, had done in 2011: Oh, how I adore this piece. It…
A letter to my father, 3 years later, at our favorite table.
Dear Pappa, Sitting at our table at Lions Gate Hospital Cafeteria. — Three years later now… you died on October 25. How can this be real? You and Mamma seemingly immortal. Yet- — I would love to break down- my heart feels too big for my chest cavity. I want to curl inward. There was…
2015 reflections and 2016 intentions.
It’s that time of year to reflect and lay out intentions. What a journey 2015 was. It was the year… [DELETE.] I had written several lengthy paragraphs reflecting on 2015 and laying out a detailed list of intentions for 2016. I almost posted it last week. Then again yesterday. But this morning I delete it….
When grief is like a wave crashing on shore…
I attended an event last night at the Vancouver Public Library. I am so glad I went alone, for not only could I soak in the event itself (as I am passionate about this case), but I could really sit in my personal grief. This was the room I sat in with my Mom as…
Can a dog live forever? In this case, yes.
They always love you. – Alexander McQueen on the joy of having dogs — After my mother passed away November 8, 2008, I inherited my parents’ dog and parrot. My father was already in residential care. I LOVE having the pets. The parrot, ASTERIX, speaks Swedish and belly laughs like my mom. There is great comfort…
Contemplating death, loss, hope, acceptance…
Release Leap of faith Acceptance Peace Honorary Karin Roar Life rough on the seas Sacrifice Mother father daughter love Death Release Hope Promise Defence Loss Rose Thorn Thorsen Memorial Cycle Allowance Honor New beginnings Immortal Bud Blossom Farewell Dedicated to my mother Karin September 17, 1936 – November 8, 2008 and my father Roar August…
What I learned in 2013: honor your gift.
– Yesterday I posted what I learned about myself in 2013. I was going to write a long list of words and concepts I embraced in 2013. – – But I stripped it down. Stripped it down to the bare essence: – So what I truly learned in 2013 is that I have the right,…
The power of art to heal and to build connections: Drawn Together
Drawn Together- Maintaining Connections and Navigating Life’s Challenges With Art Roar’s art provided him with a much needed connection to the world. I miss my father so much. Last night I spent some quiet time watching Swedish films and allowing the feeling of intense loneliness flow through me as I embraced the fact that I…
I miss his pep talks. Roar Thorsen Aug 8, 1930- Oct 25, 2012
A year ago, Dad passed away. It feels shorter. It feels longer. It feels at times overwhelming. But I am at peace. Dad left me with is a profound sense of empowerment. I miss his pep talks though. He, like nobody else, “got me.” I am blessed to have inherited his gift of art and…
A letter home. November 1, 1968
Recall the package of letters I received from my mom and dad’s friends in Sweden. LINK Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Today I look at the first one… A letter from my mom to Rolf and Eivor dated November 1, 1968. We moved…
