Friday, December 25, 2009

I love the philosophy of the
Tao Te Ching

"No growt without assistance
no action without reaction
no desire without restraint
give yourself up and find yourself again

Tangible things have no permanence
there is nothing we can hold onto in this world
let go and possess what is real"

"If you want to become whole,
let yourself be partial.
If you want to become straight,
let yourself be crooked.
If you want to become full,
let yourself be empty.
If you want to be reborn,
let yourself die.
If you want to be given everything,
give everything up."

"When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
other things become bad.

Being and non-being create each other.
Difficult and easy support each other.
Long and short define each other.
High and low depend on each other.
Before and after follow each other.

Therefore the Master
acts without doing anything
and teaches without saying anything.
Things arise and she lets them come;
things disappear and she lets them go.
She has but doesn't possess,
acts but doesn't expect.
When her work is done, she forgets it.
That is why it lasts forever."

"Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people's approval
and you will be their prisoner."

"Giving birth and nourishing,
having without possessing,
acting with no expectations,
leading and not trying to control"

"Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations."

"Practice not-doing,
and everything will fall into place."

"Look, and it can't be seen.
Listen, and it can't be heard.
Reach, and it can't be grasped.

Above, it isn't bright.
Below, it isn't dark.
Seamless, un-nameable,
it returns to the realm of nothing.
Form that includes all forms,
image without an image,
subtle, beyond all conception.

Approach it and there is no beginning;
follow it and there is no end.
You can't know it, but you can be it,
at ease in your own life.
Just realize where you come from:
this is the essence of wisdom."

Read more from the Tao Te Ching

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Merry Xmas

Give a goat to a family in need

In our western society we have a huge pressure and focus on mass-consumerism.
Now in Xmas times, instead of giving to those who have everything, maybe we can give to those who have less, to somebody that actually need it...
World vision; give a present that counts
Gaver som forandrer verden
The 10 Principles of Greener Gift-Giving

The strenght of weakness

"Now I want you to listen to me closely. You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Do you understand? Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We have all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the power we choose to act on. That's who we really are."
- Sirius in Harry Potter

- I have felt one thing to be very true; the grandest of strengths is daring to accept personal weakness, in front of an other...but especially and maybe before the latter is even possible - to yourself...Give up the fight and see your humanity in the eyes, shatter the perfect image you strive for, dare to show hurt, vulnerability, all those feelings we in general try to hide so well, but still all carry somewhere inside.
But I guess this is something that needs to come from within...I just had it come to me strongly one day. I had of course heard people say it many times before, thought it sounded good and true, but it is a huge difference in understanding something with your head, and getting a understanding deep an answer that arises from the core of yourself.
Can life ever be about winning? Gaining power? Be the best one? Be the prettiest one? The smartest? The most desired? Well, of course yes, it will make you feel great, cause in that moment you feel it is overwhelmingly wonderful and strong. It is a feeling of pleasure and winning. But then it fades and you always need more. For some reason these things never last long, these outer "winnings" fade quickly, and one needs refill. It is an eternal chase because the feeling is there merely in the minute you achieve it. So you need it again. And in that way it never stops. You get into a circle of wanting more, which is like an endless spiral moving upwards and that makes you thirst more for every conquest. So, in a way you win, but in an other you loose, again and again and again and get more caught into the net the more you play it. Until one day, I imagine, you get to a place where this is the only things that matters to you, and that is what you live for...a true nightmare. You have forgotten the core of life.

I think you can win, but in the long run and in a totally different way...rather opposite actually. And this is the strongest battle your soul might ever win too. You can except defeat. You can give the battle over. You can unclench the fist that holds around power, success, beauty and all that, and give in to what we really are...human beings with weaknesses and strengths. We are not either or....we are.
I don´t mean to sounds like a preacher now, but maybe I do. I just had this come to me so strongly today and I just needed to express it in words. And maybe, give somebody else a spark of inspiration on the road they are walking too...who knows?

Merry Xmas everybody
Warm hugs
~ Åsa

Monday, December 21, 2009

Kan speilet tale

av Sigbjørn Obstfelder

"Kan speilet tale?

Speilet kan tale!

Speilet skal se på dig hver morgen,
se på dig med det dybe, kloge øie,
- dit eget!
hilse dig med det varme, det mørkeblå øie:
Er du ren?
Er du tro?"

Saturday, December 05, 2009

Some videos

I just wan´t to sear some videos / sings I really like.
Hope you´ll enjoy :-)

This is kick-ass beautiful. I cry every time I watch it.
Claire de lune (Debussy)

What A Wonderful World
One of the most over-used yet most wonderful songs EVER!
That´s a man with vitality and voice, dude!!! RESPECT!
Enjoy and always remember - IT IS a wonderful world! ;-)
Louis Armstrong – What A Wonderful World

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.
What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong


An other classic that NEVER dies! And what a text!
(except I could do without the last line, too codependent, haah!)
Edith Piaf – Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Je ne regrette rien 
(I regret nothing)
Non ! Rien de rien
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ?a m'est bien Úgal !
Non ! Rien de rien...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
J'ai payÚ, balayÚ, oubliÚ
Je me fous du passÚ !

Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumÚ le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux !
BalayÚs mes amours
Et tous leurs trÚmolos
BalayÚs pour toujours
Je repars Ó zÚro...

Non ! Rien de rien...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ?a m'est bien Úgal !
Non ! Rien de rien...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien...
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ?a commence avec toi !

I regret nothing
No, nothing at all, I regret nothing at all
Not the good, nor the bad. It is all the same.
No, nothing at all, I have no regrets about anything.
It is paid, wiped away, forgotten.
I am not concerned with the past, with my memories.
I set fire to my pains and pleasures,
I don´t need them anymore.
I have wiped away my loves, and my troubles.
Swept them all away.
I am starting again from zero.

No, nothing at all, I have no regrets
Because from today, my life, my happiness, everything,
Starts with you!
Then, an other classic. It is impossible to not move when listening to this song

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Easy, yet thoughtprovoking(?) riddle

A father and his son is driving around in a horrible storm, the father looses control of the car and they crash into a tree. The father dies immediately.
The son is taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. But when he arrives in the surgery-room the doctor calls out, "Oh, no, it is my son"
How is this possible?

Something to think about: Global dimming / global warming

Global dimming is a term describing the gradual reduction in the amount of sunlight observed reaching the Earth's surface since the 1950s.
The effect varies by location but globally is of the order of a 5% reduction over the three decades 1960-1990; the trend has reversed during the past decade. Global dimming creates a cooling effect that may have led scientists to underestimate the effect of greenhouse gases on global warming dimming may have caused large scale changes in weather patterns.
Climate models speculatively suggest that this reduction in sunshine at the surface may have led to the failure of the monsoon in sub-Sharon Africa during the 1970s and 1980s, together with the associated famines, caused by Northern hemisphere pollution cooling the Atlantic.
This is not universally accepted and is very difficult to prove.Some scientists now consider that the effects of global dimming have masked the effect of global warming, and that resolving global dimming may therefore have a major and previously unpredicted impact on temperatures and sea levels.
Initial work to incorporate the effects of global dimming suggest that world temperatures may rise by 2 °C by 2030, and as much as 10 °C by 2100; this is a doubling of the widely accepted figure of a 5 °C rise in global temperature this Century.
If this were to be so, such large increases would lead to the melting of the Greenland icecap, major reductions in the extent of tropicreinforcingsts, and significant rises in sea levels.
A further speculation is that such a rise in temperature would trigger a rapid and irreversible release of the huge deposits of methane hydrates currently locked beneath the ocean floor, releasing methane gas, one of the most powerful of the greenhouse gases.
A similar mechanism is one of the theories proposed to explain the Permian-Triassic extinction event approximately 252 million years ago, and the extinctions associated with the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum around 55 million years ago.
It is estimated that it took the planet as long as 100,000 years to recover to a "normal state" following the Thermal Maximum.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

(A repost)

Artists erect giant pink bunny on mountain

An enormous pink bunny has been erected on an Italian mountainside where it will stay for the next 20 years.

A 200ft pink bunny has been erected on an Italian mountainside where it will stay for the next 20 years /Europics

The 200-foot-long toy rabbit lies on the side of the 5,000 foot high Colletto Fava mountain in northern Italy's Piedmont region.

Viennese art group Gelatin designed the giant soft toy and say it was "knitted by dozens of grannies out of pink wool".

Group member Wolfgang Gantner said: "It's supposed to make you feel small, like Gulliver. You walk around it and you can't help but smile."

And Gelatin members say the bunny is not just for walking around - they are expecting hikers to climb its 20 foot sides and relax on its belly.

The giant rabbit is expected to remain on the mountain side until 2025.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

The Dracul
Just a few thoughts on symbolism and facing inner darkness
by Åsa
Click here to read

Friday, November 20, 2009

Monday, November 02, 2009


To different kinds of love, the lost, the happy, the newly found and the left behind
Some old, some new, but all
~ By Aasa


Every word you say pulls me
back to you
even the cold ones secretly
whisper to take you back
to a place of
pleasure and pain

Some part of me still longs for
this deeply
The place I know
I can´t survive
The place I know
I can't be



is silent drops of
sadness like a little brook floating into
my room slowly and softly covering
the table the floor the furniture dripping from
the ceiling into my bed whisking
gently while its floating upon
below me under
me around me

Its a whisper nearly
tenderly stroking me with
melancholia and happiness at the
same time but I can smile now....


Your walls

your hardness stares back at me
and floating in this distance between us
it is all I feel

until suddenly
for reasons not known to me
softly, like a a shy rush,
my heart taste the understanding of you

so I let go of you in knowing that
we deeply met in souls

nobody sees you clearer
than the who sat in the same corners
as your own lost pain

but I am done trying
to climb your walls


Poem written by Jonathan Weber and Aasa Bergem

Through dark thickets I
gaze into the mystery at
the shores of my own unknowing

Here the stones turn into water
and spirits fill the air

Here the crashing waves
is like the call of a siren
Beckoning me yet further in

Now I am drawn into darkness of oceans


Deep eyes
To Gil with love

I look into your eyes
I dive, deeply
I can travel here
I know these paths
I recognize them

I follow the road deeper
into you
where the forest is bushy and leaves tickle with dew
I can breath this air, I can smell these paths,
the moss on the ground is my home

I have been here
in my soul lies a memory of these hills
I know you - I know you
And yet I don't
you are new and old to me

I can travel in your eyes
I can get lost there in this forest, these woods

Hopelessly, pleasurably, wonderfully lost


Daniel / Early spring

You have words I can not goldpaint
they just exist, in the air
like soaring sparrows or dragonflies
with silverlight wings

they are glimmering in the thought
of everything that made them real
I am smiling while I put them down
one by one around my pillow
and fall asleep
by you

now reality is better
than my own imagination



This silence is so
soft it is nearly tender against
my skin

The juice in my dreams
was squeezed out by your words
everything that is left is
this soft silence in
my goodbye


A meeting
Pouring over with lust
to take a straw
and slurp you up nice and quietly
with a friendly little bourgeois expression
but with intense power
from my lungs
explosive inwards breath
like a cannibalistic tribute to the unknown love


you! use a lot of
exclamation points
I pick them up
like little secret gestures
and hide them in my pockets

while I am watching the speed lights from my
old supersonic trains tumble past me
I am no longer
a passenger
I am just sitting in wordless answers on
my bedrooms platform
savoring the exciting silence between us
while I smile
into the wall


what your words are hiding
speaks a language only
my vision understand
it sings
warmly and soothing
your secrets are sparking
deep in there
I like to watch that in your eyes
which my mind does not understand


it is a chance I have to take it
is silent while I wait
still on him give him that
freely in his hands now lies the stone
it takes a man to take it up


Letting go

my heart is a crack in the door
where my soul is still watching
the shimmering lights of your soft licking presence
my skin still feels your veins curled around me
in a pulsating embrace
while i close
the door
and walk into the moonlight

out here I can only see the distant
warmth from your windows
walking slowly down an unknown path
trees are rustling in my ears
and my heart still perches in the soft echoes
open like a bird that is spreading its feathers gently
welcoming love
that will not be yours

I am free



there are wordless murders happening
with murders that have never been and no victims

I curse my own intensity
while I brutally
and willfully whittle away your eyes
that has become stuck
to the hollow of my neck

We breathe in the grass and hunt with our look after
someone in the other
end who can relieve us from our
own insignificance in the crowd let a
pair of eyes in
a moment say
you exist

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Who dies?
~ By Pablo Neruda

Who Dies?

Dies slowly he who transforms himself into a slave of habit,
repeating every day the same routines,
who does not change brands,
does not risk wearing a new color, nor talking to those he doesn't know.
Dies slowly he who makes television his guru.
Dies slowly he who avoids a passion,
who prefers black to white
and the dots on the "i" to a whirlpool of emotions,
Dies slowly he who does not overthrow the table when unhappy at work,
who does not risk the certain for the uncertain
to go toward the dream that is keeping him awake.
Who does not, at least once in life, flee from sound thinking.
Dies slowly he who does not travel, does not read,
does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys his self love,
who does not accept help from another.
Dies slowly he who passes his days complaining of his bad luck or the incessant rain.
Dies slowly he who abandons a project before starting it,
who does not ask about a subject he does not know
or who does not answer when being asked about something he does know.
Dies slowly he who does not share his emotions, joys and sadness,
who does not trust, who does not even try.
Dies slowly he who does not intend excelling,
who does not learn from the stones on the road of life,
who does not love and let somebody love him.
Let's avoid death in soft quotes,
remembering always that to be alive demands an effort much bigger
that the simple fact of breathing.

Friday, October 16, 2009

These are things friends of mine have said to me, that I just thought was so valuable I wanted to make a post out of it
I also added some quotes of "friends" I have never met ;-)
~ Aasa

- when you walk, each step is like falling
and that's how you move
if you don't put yourself in a position to fall, you don't move

- Not having shot is always having missed

- Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like no one is watching.

- What will you regret more when you're 80 and looking back on your life... the things you did or the things you didn't do?

- In order to be brave you must first start by being afraid
for true courage lies in the overcoming of fear
not in its absence

"Time is
Too slow for those who Wait,
Too swift for those who Fear,
Too long for those who Grieve,
Too short for those who Rejoice,
But for those who Love
Time is not."
~ Henry Vandyke

"Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children."
~ Kahlil Gibran

"Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. "

"The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things. "

"This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess. "
~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Friday, October 09, 2009

Warning! Boring!

Today I have a goal! I will try to be as boring as possible. I will be so boring that you would like to put your foot through the screen just to be relieved from the boredom.
But please
, do me a favor - challenge yourself to read to the very end, and if you manage that, without putting your feet through the screen - you win!

I am not quite sure what exactly YOU will find boring, so I thought about making a list of the things I think is
Here we go
1:Waiting for somebody
2:Waiting for something
3:In general just waiting
Actually, when I think about it, waiting is more frustrating than boring. This was a very bad attempt. Okay, I will try again, and this time really focus on it

Okay, so, here we go again:
Boring things:
1: The book "Great expectations"
2: .......
...Hmmmmm, that was the only thing I could think of. And it really wasn't fair either, as I never finished the book.
Seems I am really bad at this, I haven't even started to get to the boring stuff.

Okay, I know what to do!
Lets make a deal!
You post me something here that you find awfully boring, (mediocre boring is also okay, even just a tad boring) and then in the end I will make a list with all the posted comments of boring stuff - The absolute, fantastically boring list! (You really cant do worse than me, so give it a go)

PS; Hope I at least bored you a little

Monday, October 05, 2009

Thursday, October 01, 2009

A re-post

I talk with you and your voice is so small, so small and open,
sucking in every little word I say of love
I could hold you in my palm, and you would be tiny tiny- standing there
it makes me cry, I cry when I talk with you
for the life that passed you by, for all the hardship you´ve been through
for all the things you lost and all the things you never got
I cry for the love nobody gave you
for the child you bore and gave birth to in secrecy
and the struggles you had to endure alone

I cry because I see your shield and sword,
but they are transparent to me, I see through them, they don't matter
I see how small you are behind them, I see how small you are behind your hard, big armour
And I cry because they who surround you never see this
I see how the world judge you for your shield, and it makes my heart ache

So I let my words tickle over you, as I can give you what I have
you are a wise wonderfully sweet woman,
you are a heart that longs in a life that was never fulfilled
you are strength and weakness in one
you are my roots, my past, the life that gave life and experience to us
Thank you sweet Edith, thank you
I honour who you are

Monday, September 28, 2009

Try this out if you feel like it
Follow these steps and really take your time with it....
Buy a grape
Take one in your hand
1: Look at it thoroughly:
What colour does it have? Does it have different colors?
Does it have any cracks?
Is it smaller or larger than normal? How does it smell?
2: Take it in your mouth and roll it around. Feel it with your tongue
What does it feel like? Is it soft? Hard? Smooth?
3: Take a bite of it
What does it taste like? Is it sour? Sweet? Or both? Anything else?
4: Chew it and enjoy the taste. How does it feel to chew it? Does it taste any different from when you just took one bite?
5: Eat it all up
6: Did this grape taste any different than other grapes you have had before. If yes...Why?
~ Aasa

Friday, September 25, 2009

When I was in Norway I found some really old pictures while visiting me family up in the north of the country. I thought it was a little funny, since some of them I haven't even seen before, so I am going to post a few here in my blog


The reason I was born. MY mom with her frineds. Can you guess who is her?

This is an activity I started at a very very early age and has kept ever since:

This is an other thing I started with at an early age - protesting. Here I had my very own protest, I was the only protester but yet it was very effective. On the first picture you can see me hiding from the press (mom) On the second one it is some of the many "banners" I put up.

In general, I did my best to avoid the press (But with not very good results...
Damned paparazzi)

My grandfatyher was a farmer. I took after him with the cap.

This was my very first marriage. It was a small and informal one

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Fascinating art project

I found...
to be truly amazing and beautiful. The feeling of love is in us all and can be shared and taken up at any time, if we dare to, and the best part is, it spreads like nothing else.
Thank you to Tord for sharing this link with me

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Exhibition in Cyan Studio

25-27 Sept

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

How is a void created?

Sometimes it is there
Sometimes it is not
What is it that really creates an empty spot?
Can somebody tell me, for Blogs sake? ;)

Monday, September 21, 2009

To all of you

Isn't life wonderful when you feel you have done a good choice
and feel one with yourself and your way?
Warm hugs to all of you out there, I wish you a wonderful day filled with
sunshine in your hearts and the knowledge that you are beautiful
~ Aasa

Edward Hopper "Morning sun"

The Story of the Fisher King

It began when the king was a boy. He had, as a test of courage, to spend a night alone in the forest in order to become king. While he spends the night alone there he is struck by a holy vision. Out of his campfire the holy grail appeared, the symbol of the grace of God.

And a voice said to the boy: "You will be the keeper of the grail, and it heals the hearts of mankind."

But the boy was blinded by bigger visions of a life full of power and glory and splendor. In a state of complete exstacy for one moment he feels not like a boy but invincible, like a god. He reached out with his hands into the fire to seize the grail, but it disappeared and left him behind with his hands in the fire, and he sustained serious burnings.

And while the boy grew older his wound grew deeper. Until one day life lost its sense for him. He could not have faith in anybody, not even in himself. He could neither love nor feel love. After he got that clear in his mind he became ill. He began to die.

One day a fool entered the castle and found the king alone. And with his simple mind the fool did not recognize the king. He just saw a man who was alone and took pains.

And he asked the king: "What's wrong with you, friend?"

And the king answered: "I'm thirsty. I need some water to moisten my throat."

So the fool grasped a mug that stood next to the bed, filled it with water and passed it to the king. As the king began to drink he realized that his wound was healed. He looked in his hands; and there was the holy grail he aimed for all his lifetime.

In astonishment he asked the fool: "How could you find what my Noblest and Bravest failed to find?"

And the fool replied: "I don't know! I just knew that you were thirsty."

A re-run of a post, just because I love it

An other "re-run"

is a Japanese Buddhist term for enlightenment. The word literally means "to understand". It is sometimes loosely used interchangeably with Kensho, but Kensho refers to the first perception of the Buddha-nature or True-Nature, sometimes referred to as a "awakening".Kensho is not a permanent state of enlightenment, but rather a clear glimpse of the true nature of creation. Satori on the other hand refers to "deep" or lasting enlightenment. According to DT Suzuki, "Satori is the raison d'etre of Zen, without which Zen is no Zen. Therefore every contrivance, disciplinary and doctrinal, is directed towards satori."Satori can be found in every moment of life, it is wrapped in all daily activities, its goal to unwrap them to see satori.

As an analogy, we may think of a baby when it first walks. After much effort, it stands upright, finds its balance and walks a few steps (kensho), then falls. After continued effort the child will one day find that it is able to walk all the time (satori).

Once the True-Nature has been seen, it is customary to use satori when referring to the enlightenment of the Buddha and the Patriarchs, as their enlightenment was permanent.

The Zen Buddhist experience commonly recognizes enlightenment as a transitory thing in life, almost synonymous with the English term epiphany, and satori is the realization of a state of epiphanic enlightenment. Because all things are transitory according to Zen philosophy, however, the transitory nature of satori is not regarded as limiting in the way that a transitory epiphany would be in Western understandings of enlightenment.

DT Suzuki writes that "Samadhi alone is not enough, you must come out of that state, be awakened from it, and that awakening is Prajna. That movement of coming out of samadhi, and seeing it for what it is, that is satori
(Japanese satori; Chinese: wù - from the verb Satoru)

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Collection of posts about one of the few places

that has captured my heart

To the land of bold knights in shiny armour,
to soft music in the warm evenings under flickering torchlights,
to sitting on longtables with tonns of strangers singing together with mjød and wine in our hands,
to sword-battles and endless sunsets belowe castle walls
To the city of roses
A tribute to Visby

Gotland - Visby!

A friend of mine that went to Gotland and took some pictures.
I haven't had time to work with mine yet, or blog them, but here you can watch his. (I am also in a few of them, he, he)

Medieval week - 3 - 10 August - Gotland

Can you guess where I am going!?
*huge grin*

(Ha,ha, I am such a geek) Link

Monday, September 07, 2009

Into The Wild Aasa - Part I

I am planning to take a hitch hiking
or bicycle trip by myself.

I only know I want to at least
experience a lot of Europe.
...maybe more.
I have no plan,
no time perspective,
no money.

Only myself
And a huge dose of optimism
and travel buzz in my blood

Will write about my trip in this blog
To be continued
~ Aasa

Into The Wild Aasa - Part II

Funny coincidence
07.09.09 21:00
Got to know this guy today, through a mutual friend, that has the same plan as me. He also started a blog to write about his travels.
Great to see other people doing the same thing, and having many of the same thoughts about life. He had more extreme situations in his life leading to it, but the dream is the same.
~ Aasa

08.09.09 01:30
Freaking out a little now.
Everybody tells me it is streight road to being raped - Young girl traveling alone and sleeping in a tent in the wilderness.
I must be CRAZY.
Well, people have told me I am weird ever since I can remember, so, what the heck, ha, ha!

I am not backing out - this has been a dream since I was 14.

Friday, September 04, 2009


The trapped bird talks about freedom
- the free bird fly

Copyright © 2007 Aasa Bergem
~ av Aasa

du har ord jeg ikke kan gullmale
de bare dirrer i luften
som svevende spurver og øyenstikkere
med florlette vinger

de glimrer i tanken på alt
som førte til dem
og jeg smiler mens jeg legger
dem ned en etter en
etter en etter en
rundt min hodepute
og sovner inn
av deg

for en gang skyld er virkeligheten bedre
enn min egen fantasi


jeg hører ordene hun sier under bokstavene
de klinger hardt og spisst og vil stå øverst på hylla
mine er tomme
jeg slipper dem og lar dem falle
rundt meg som bokstavkjeks i en bunnløs suppe
uten tanke på hvorfor og hva
til de mister form og betydning
og jeg bare er



sjelen min er ensomme hurtigtog som
drønner inn i veggene og jeg
sitter og ser på dem har
hoppet av og tatt et godt tak
i stueveggen men de sliter
sin enorme fart for å kantre mot
deg og dine ord
det henger lengsel i lyngen og
alt rundt oss er fullt av dugg
ordene dine er langsomme og mine
også mens jeg fortsatt setter
fri togene på
supersoniske smellturer
jeg er ikke med jeg har hoppet
jeg står her
og smiler til deg
og holder
all denne virkeligheten
hvem av oss vil først knekke



jeg leser brev som
kommer fra
going4u og superlover
svømmende seler bakser med finnene
rundt meg
i elskovssyke grynt
mot havets salthet
jeg må jo bare smile
mens jeg venter
et par dager til
jeg ønsker
å knekke alle ordene dine sammen til små kjekssmuler og løse dem opp i mine varme hender

jeg øver meg på å vente



jeg, du og stillheten sier du
og jeg blir dobbeltsjarmert
du dytter mugger fulle av saft ned i øynene mine jeg nyter hvert tak
det dukker opp
som svalende kampsport mellom
oss vi sitter stille og betrakter
det er en kjærlighetsløgn
for jeg kjenner deg
men jeg kan allikvel
ikke sove lenger



flommer av lyst
til å ta et sugerør
og slurpe i meg hele deg pent og stille
med en vennlig borgerfruemine
men med intens kraft
fra mine lunger
eksplosivt innadgående åndedrett
som en kannibalsk hyllest til den ukjente kjærligheten



du bruker mange
jeg plukker dem opp
som små hemmelige gester
og gjemmer dem i lommene
mens jeg ser farts-stripene etter mine
gamle hurtigtog suse forbi
jeg er ikke lenger
jeg sitter kun i ordløse svar på
mitt soveroms perrong
og nyter den spennende stillheten mellom oss
mens jeg smiler
i veggen



det øynene dine skjuler
taler et språk kun
synet mitt forstår
det synger
varmt og svalt
det spraker av hemmelghetene dine
der inne
jeg liker å se på det i øynene dine
som jeg ikke skjønner


et sammenflettet, hardt nøste
så mange timer
men minnet om perlende latter
denne lille
som sovnet inn mens hun sang
bløte, redde, sterke, ømme hender


du legger kampesteiner i
synet mitt tvinger bøyer vil ta tak og
klemme til jeg ikke har mine ord til
dine hender former
trærne som omgir verden vil bite til
meg at jeg skal se vil
mure brønn der så jeg
synes synd snakke til
meg stumt bak fastlåste
metaforer for din
egen tomhet for at
skal eksistere vil strekke meg
til jeg er en tom landevei
slik dengang da jeg var uten ord
bare for deg


Der sitter du
ca ti centimeter til venstre
blå jakke
svart genser
blondt hår
det er en reise som kan ta evigheter
og som jeg ikke ønsker
å legge ut på
jeg vil la deg bli sittende der
mens jeg reiser meg opp og går
ut av vinduet
opp stigen
bort og bakenfor
under trappen
alle stedene vi lekte gjemsel
da vi var små
og du ba oss komme inn til middag


du sitter der som tyngende våt sand vil ete
meg opp med sugende drøvel puster
og slynger luften din i støt
rundt halsen min som en slimete

pusten din peide å eie tankene mine

Jeg putter timeglasset ned i sprekkene
på badet ditt så det knaser i margen og sand tyter
ut innimellom så pakker jeg kofferten med mine
som fugemasse for sjelen

om jeg løper raskt nok kan jeg nok komme dit
hvor pusten din ikke høres lenger


det er en sjanse jeg må ta det
er stille mens jeg venter
fortsatt på ham gir ham det
frivillig i hans hender ligger nå steinen
det skal en mann til for å ta den opp


Jeg smuldrer sakte foran
deg kyssene dine sier det
usagte du smiler rekker ut
hender muntre ord som aldri
leter ønsker du ikke mer?

Snart er det for sent
å finne for det å vente krever
for mye
Derfor forsvinner jeg foran
deg derfor er jeg langt borte
Når jeg er nær


det er ordølse mord som skjer
med gjerningsløse mordere uten offer

jeg forbanner min egen intensitet
mens jeg brutalt
og målbevisst spikker bort øynene dine
som har satt seg fast
i halsgropen min

vi peser i gresset jakter med blikket etter
noen i den andre
enden som kan forløse oss fra vår
egen ubetydelighet i mengden la et
par øyne et
øyeblikk si
Du er til


hun bøyer seg ned
børster vekk huden
ser tilbake inn i øynene
vet at denne gangen heller ikke

og alltid dette
lete etter svaret som ikke finnes

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Presenting Åsa the lamb

Åsa the lamb, named after yours truly.
Born 8 nov. 2007
Isnt she beautiful?
Åsa the lamb is described by her caretaker as stubborn, hungry, talkative(baaa ba ba baaaa), a bit of an attentionwhore, and sweet as a lamb. And I think she has the cutest ears ever!

And she is obviously quite the fighter. When she was born her mother was was sick and couldn´t feed her. And later, when she got better again, the mother continued to kick her away. But Åsa didn´t give up, and kept her struggle, where most lambs (according to her caretaker) would just have given in a sulked away!
A girl with guts - Yay for her!


The following passage is from Smilla's sense of Snow, a 1992 novel by Danish author Peter Høeg. A strange mystery that involves a child's murder and an eerie trip to Greenland. The book is also made into a film, casting Julia Ormond

"Do you know what the foundation of mathematics is? ...
The foundation of mathematics is numbers. If anyone asked me what makes me truly happy, I would say: numbers. Snow and ice and numbers. And do you know why?

Because the number system is like human life. First you have the natural numbers. The ones that are whole and positive. The numbers of a small child. But human consciousness expands. The child discovers a sense of longing, and do you know what the mathematical expression is for longing?

The negative numbers. The formalization of the feeling that you are missing something. And human consciousness expands and grows even more, and the
child discovers the in-between spaces. Between stones, between pieces of moss on the stones, between people. And between numbers. And do you know what that leads to? It leads to fractions. Whole numbers plus fractions produce rational numbers. And human consciousness doesn't stop there. It wants to go beyond reason. It adds an operation as absurd as the extraction of roots. And produces irrational numbers.

It's a form of madness. Because the irrational numbers are infinite. They can't be written down. They force human consciousness out beyond the limits. And by adding irrational
numbers to rational numbers, you get real numbers.

Because now, on the spot, we expand the real numbers with imaginary square roots of
negative numbers. These are the numbers we can't picture, numbers that normal human consciousness cannot comprehend. And when we add the imaginary numbers to the real numbers, we have the complex number system. The first number system in which it's possible to explain satisfactorily the crystal formation of ice. It's like a vast, open landscape. The horizons. You head towards them and they keep receding."

~ Taken from
"Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow" by Peter Høeg
Click here for a film clip of the mathematics scene.

1: Ouroboros-
ancient symbol for eternity / cyclicality m.m
The infinity symbol introduced in 1655 by John Wallis (1616-1703).
3: Celtic symbol for the cycles of man - Birth, Death, Eternity.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Words I like:
Lush, adore, melancholy, highway, lover, dust, tender, moist, sweet, mystery, forest, deeper, grass, ocean, fields, dream, dew, skin, soft, ambiguous, freedom, sizzeling, fever, burning.
Libelula, Alama, sensuál, mañana, fragilidad, paloma, la luna, sentido, silenzioso, passión, amor, cielo.
Hemmelighet, naken, dyp, bølger, myk, himmel, vann, lidenskap, nær, varme, erotisk, hud, slør, tåke, dugg, skimre, lengsel.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

My heritage

My grandmother
My mother in front of the sign of the place of our roots - Bergem

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

"To learn is to find out what you already know.
To act is to show that you know it.
To teach is to let others know, that they know these things just as well as you do"

Life is some good shit ;-)

Monday, August 17, 2009

“Most schools teach children to be unimaginative…Many teachers think of children as immature adults. It might lead to better teaching if we thought of adults as atrophied children. Many ‘well-adjusted’ adults are bitter, uncreative, frightened, unimaginative, rather hostile people (anyone you know fit this description?). Instead of assuming they were born that way, or that that’s what being an adult entails, we might consider them as people damaged by their education and upbringing.”
-Keith Johnstone
Dieing to see them

Norwegian poetry II

I have to apologice to the english speaking readers.
This is a norwegian poet, that really hit me hard with some of his poetry.
So I really want to share it here in my blog with those of you who can read it. I feel these tree verses are a beautiful, raw verbal expression of deeper love.

Fra samlingen "Hit skulle det ha kommet noen flere"
~ av Aksel Selmer

Igjen treffer mørket oss med limousinfart
igjen blir vi sittende i et hjørne
med en blek mynt i lommen festen er over
min kjære og du ser på meg som om
noen har pisset i din sjels cabriolet
men det er nå vi må holde fast ved
vår lille plasterlapp vi har kun vår
rike melankoli vår blå meditasjon
kom la oss slå opp vårt telt i stillheten

kom la oss slå opp vårt telt i stillheten
og stå hverandre til tjeneste
som to dråper vann på et sølvfat
vi hadde selve holdepunktet i hånden
da vi innstiftet vår lidenskap
i skyggen av sommerfuglens ruiner
nå er mørket her igjen med sin duft
av risiko og salt kom min elskede
det er nå vi må utarte vår kjærelighet

det er nå vi må utarte vår kjærlighet
la våre kropper forsones i en genital kubisme
og gjøre oss tilgjengelige
for de mest krevende solstikk
det er nå jeg vil ha deg på tungen
selv om dine øyne er bakbundet
av kaos og dine fingre er innstilt
på flukt kan vi når som helst
innta vår spacecamp kom kjære
la oss kaste vår bleke mynt i brønnen

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Å gjøre tam

a beautiful passage from "The little prince" worth a read

This is from one of my favourite books,
The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Hope you´ll enjoy the read, I recommend it warmheartedly
~ Aasa

Chapter 20:

But it happened that after walking for a long time through sand, and rocks, and snow, the little prince at last came upon a road. And all roads lead to the abodes of men.
"Good morning," he said.
He was standing before a garden, all a-bloom with roses.
"Good morning," said the roses.
The little prince gazed at them. They all looked like his flower.
"Who are you?" he demanded, thunderstruck.
"We are roses," the roses said.
And he was overcome with sadness. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in all the universe. And here were five thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden!
"She would be very much annoyed," he said to himself, "if she should see that . . . She would cough most dreadfully, and she would pretend that she was dying, to avoid being laughed at. And I should be obliged to pretend that I was nursing her back to life--for if I did not do that, to humble myself also, she would really allow herself to die. . ."
Then he went on with his reflections: "I thought that I was rich, with a flower that was unique in all the world; and all I had was a common rose. A common rose, and three volcanoes that come up to my knees--and one of them perhaps extinct forever . . . That doesn't make me a very great prince . . ."
Garden of the roses

And he lay down in the grass and cried.

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox. "Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing. "I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added: "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.

"Please--tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."

The next day the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."

"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.

"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . .
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."

And the roses were very much embarassed.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

Read more in "The Little Prince"

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


Shiki, Masaoka

After killing
a spider, how lonely I feel
in the cold of night!

Night; and once again,
the while I wait for you, cold wind
turns into rain

Basho, Matsuo

No one travels
Along this way but I,
This autumn evening

Takahama, Kyoshi:

He says a word,
and I say a word - autumn
is deepening

A gold bug -
I hurl into the darkness
and feel the depth of night


Covered with the flowers,
Instantly I'd like to die
In this dream of ours!


A giant firefly:
that way, this way, that way, this -
and it passes by

~ Unknown

Early morning sun.
heartbeat against
my shoulder


"It's a Jewish parable that a friend of mine told me.
These two friends are condemned to death. But the king, he liked them and he didn't want to kill them. So, instead, he tied a thin rope across this abyss. And he told them both to walk over the rope. Whoever made it to the other side would be allowed to live.
So the first one walked over the rope and he makes it safely to the other side. And after he made it, his friend yells out to him, "How did you do it?" And the other guy answered,
"I have no idea. All I know is that whenever my weight pulled me to one side, I leaned to the other."

~From the series "In treatment"

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Photographers for inspiration
Suggestions for other photograhpers to add? Don´t hesitate to comment!
Some of these links are broken. I am sorry, I will fix it very soon.


Diane Arbus
Accepting and warm view into the world of the different ones


Miguel Rio Branco

Master of color


Popculture with a critical selfview


Mario Giacomelli
Graphic estetics


Salvador DalíSurrealism at its best
(Didn´t find a good example link here, tell me if you do)

W Eugene Smith
Master of analogue manipulation


Jose ortiz Echagüe

A visit to the past


Catala Roca
Light, perfectionism and realism