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…

Mamma- a portrait.

“If You Forget Me” I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you,…

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…

The second letter. November 5, 1968.

Why when I close my eyes and think about myself at a young age do I find myself immediately at the age of 6?  What makes me go back to that little girl?  That time? These days I feel tears well up easily.  Not of sadness, but of fullness.  Today I walked home from the bus…

You are motherhood. You are the greatest mystery. Karin 17/09/36-08/11/08

Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it’s only because in my dream I’m a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands… – Pablo Neruda 8 years ago today, my little brother held my mother’s face and spoke sweetly, guiding my mother.  I laid my right ear on her chest and…

The maternal eyelids that buried will again open toward the heights…

  Karin Thorsen September 17, 1936 – November 8, 2008 Because you are only a seed, chestnut tree, autumn, earth, water, heights, silence prepared the germ, the floury density, the maternal eyelids that buried will again open toward the heights the simple majesty of foliage, the dark damp plan of new roots, the ancient but…

Grief hits me when I least suspect it, with a solitary evening walk…

All of a sudden, all I want to do is organize mom’s closet, as she lies on the bed and chats with me, the parrot cuddling her hand, Tobey on the floor below, with Grey Gardens on in the background. Grief hits me when I least suspect it, with a solitary evening walk, letting the dog…

Sunday morning visit with my mother.

It’s Sunday morning. I’ve been up awhile. Dog is walked. Pot of coffee almost gone. Parrot loud. Rest of the household asleep. Making pancakes. On Sundays, with Corrie on in the background, I make pancakes and visit with my mom. She’s there with me and we can talk freely about all the wonderful trivial things…

I could hear her heart stop.

I could hear her heart slow then stop. Then she flew. She flew straight down to San Francisco. She flew straight to her mother and aunts. She became everything.

The darkness is not always there. But the mask slips at times. #journal

I’ve been trying to write a post for days.  And those that know me know that it’s unusual for me to have to pause in the process.  But I have become stuck. There’s a pain in the chest that reminds me to pay attention, to try to figure it out.  My journal- usually filled with…

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.

Weighted and achy heart today on Mother’s Day.  Missing Mom is an expected constant in my life.  But I am so blessed to have been loved so completely by her.  The pain now is, therefore, beautiful. Revisiting some favorite photographs. A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for…

The umbilical cord. Mother-daughter journal series. PART 3: Because you are only a seed

AS I MOVE FORWARD INTO NEW CHAPTERS IN MY LIFE, I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS TIME TO FOCUS FULLY ON ME. (Hello, me!)  IT IS FINALLY TIME TO PROCESS MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY MOTHER AND ALL THE DELICIOUS, SCARY, INTERESTING, HEART-WARMING, DEEEEEEEEP EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS, BLOCKAGES, PATTERNS ETC. THAT COME UP. FULLY READY.  EXCITED. —…

The umbilical cord. Mother-daughter journal series. PART 2: IDENTIFY THE FIRST MILESTONE

AS I MOVE FORWARD INTO NEW CHAPTERS IN MY LIFE, I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS TIME TO FOCUS FULLY ON ME. (Hello, me!)  IT IS FINALLY TIME TO PROCESS MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY MOTHER AND ALL THE DELICIOUS, SCARY, INTERESTING, HEART-WARMING, DEEEEEEEEP EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS, BLOCKAGES, PATTERNS ETC. THAT COME UP. FULLY READY.  EXCITED. THE…

The umbilical cord. Mother-daughter journal series. PART 1: Accepting the task.

AS I MOVE FORWARD INTO NEW CHAPTERS IN MY LIFE, I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS TIME TO FOCUS FULLY ON ME. (Hello, me!)  IT IS FINALLY TIME TO PROCESS MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY MOTHER AND ALL THE DELICIOUS, SCARY, INTERESTING, HEART-WARMING, DEEEEEEEEP EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS, BLOCKAGES, PATTERNS ETC. THAT COME UP. FULLY READY.  EXCITED. My…

An ode to @Iamyokoo #portrait #inspiringartist

— Running a one-woman knitwear enterprise from home, Yokoo is an artist, a perfectionist and a ”total control” worker. She enjoys being a part of the entire process: thinking, designing, sketching, picking up the material, creating, photographing, promoting, trading and sending. She still gets butterflies every time she packages up a new order. SOURCE Yokoo…

Mnemosyne : Greek Goddess of Memory and Mother of the Muses. Love letter to my mom.

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.  ~Tenneva Jordan

Weekly artist series: Week 9 Part 2 SUE COE: A mother dying

Week 9 Part 2 Sue Coe The Last 11 Days is a group of charcoal drawings Sue Coe created from July 20 to 31, 1995 depicting her mother as she lay dying with cancer. The drawings reveal Coe’s private struggle with her mother’s illness and eventual death. [source] I’m not a big fan of the word “resonate.”…

The Sketchbook Project page 2

THE SKETCHBOOK PROJECT 2011 TOUR Theme: And Then There Was None Page 2 Transcript Friday October 8, 2010 Westfield San Francisco Centre Karin • Kristina • Mamma It’s almost been 2 years since mom passed away.  I have never really written about those last moments.  For they were not “last.”  But all of a sudden– Mom’s…