tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73419252854516084862024-02-24T22:46:38.171+02:00Organized ChaosHeidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.comBlogger477125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-30579995562169898562020-03-22T21:36:00.000+02:002020-03-22T21:59:14.143+02:00 A reflection from A Dollhouse - the female loss of time<br />
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<i><o:p> </o:p>”But so
have thousands of women done”</i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That is my
favourite line from Ibsens Dollhouse. It is Nora´s reply to Torvald as he
explains to her that he would gladly do anything for her but not give up his honour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But beyond honour, and more importantly, what Nora and all the
thousands of women before her had given up was their <b>time</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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The Nora I came to know through our recent local play has like every human being, a rich and complex inner life that is however out of
reach. Because between the domestic life, the sociable chores and putting on a happy face for her husband, how could she ever find the time and space to dig deeper? <br />
<br />
Nora is far from alone in her desperate need for contemplative solitude. And she is far from the first.<br />
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The history is filled with big male philosophers and artists. Women on the other hand have, for
centuries, simply not had the possibilities to develop independent, creative
thinking. I cannot help but agree with writer <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/profile/brigid-schulte"><b>Brigid Schulte</b></a>, who argues that a woman's greatest enemy is a lack of time to herself. “Pure leisure,
making time just for oneself, is nothing short of a courageous act of radical
and subversive resistance”, she writes.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b>Virginia
Woolf</b> entertains a thought experiment in her book “A room of one’s own”,
published in 1929. What if Shakespeare would have had an equally talented
sister? Her fate would most like not have been to become a celebrated poet and
writer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Woolf writes:<br /><i>
“She was not sent to school. She had no chance of learning grammar and logic,
let alone of reading Horace and Virgil. She picked up a book now and then, one
of her brother's perhaps, and read a few pages. But then her parents came in
and told her to mend the stockings or mind the stew and not moon about with
books and papers. (…) Perhaps she scribbled some pages up in an apple loft on
the sly, but was careful to hide them or set fire to them. Soon, however,
before she was out of her teens, she was to be betrothed to the son of a
neighbouring wool-stapler.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sadly, the
history books are brimming with loss of female potential. Loss of female leisure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>“There is
something at works in my soul”</i>. The line is the feminist writer <b>Mary Shelley</b>
who died merely 30 years before Ibsens Nora took the stage at the Royal Theatre
in Denmark. Shelley, who stole time to read and write as a young girl, was
fortunate enough to live a more unconventional life where she was able to tend
to that which scratched her soul. She wrote the literary
success Frankenstein, mere 19 years old. A mythical tale about human hubris,
the need to be loved and the heartbreak of being ostracized. Many sceptics
believe, to this day, however that Shelley was not the real author. Her husband
has all too often been praised in the absence of general female credibility.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the last
scene of Dollhouse, Nora replies to Torvalds adamant reminders of her duties as
a wife and mother with <i>“I don’t believe that anymore to be true. I believe I am
first and foremost a human being, just like you”.</i> She tells him she needs to
leave in order to make space for what she has lacked the most: time. Time to
think, time to unravel her thoughts and time to find out what truth means to her. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What Nora
did was perceived as a very radical act at the time. In some ways it is still
considered radical, just as Schulte writes. We just speak of it differently.
Nora was thought to throw away her honour along with her quest for time. Today
a woman might be deemed lazy or self-obsessed for wanting to spend her hours
simply with herself, perhaps doing absolutely nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The historical loss of female time is a tragedy. But by the thousands, women are taking back what is a deeply human
need and want. To scratch at that which is at works in our souls. To take back <b>time</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCjZB8VvsLHcIR__ZHMOOMNL61iZ5mEyy-eSfyunKsr_mVN6x8PtZbG3UzDb8-ERQ8Z4n2o5QN8QXo5b_IwYYb_r4NA9QZng0OYS2S2242PKGCIDQ3bT4IiBKDPLeHPMT4foCsH87oUJ2/s1600/2795621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCjZB8VvsLHcIR__ZHMOOMNL61iZ5mEyy-eSfyunKsr_mVN6x8PtZbG3UzDb8-ERQ8Z4n2o5QN8QXo5b_IwYYb_r4NA9QZng0OYS2S2242PKGCIDQ3bT4IiBKDPLeHPMT4foCsH87oUJ2/s640/2795621.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Photo: Stefan Öhberg /Nya Åland</b></div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-49945218859837815152018-04-20T20:11:00.002+03:002018-05-06T09:28:12.065+03:00The coming of rage<br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #333333; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">You are the dark song</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">of the morning;</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">serious and slow,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">you shave, you dress,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">you descend the stairs</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">in your public clothes</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">and drive away, you become</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">the wise and powerful one</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">who makes all the days</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">possible in the world.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">But you were also the red song</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">in the night,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">stumbling through the house</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">to the child’s bed,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">to the damp rose of her body,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">leaving your bitter taste.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And forever those nights snarl</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">the delicate machinery of the days.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">When the child’s mother smiles</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">you see on her cheekbones</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">a truth you will never confess;</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">and you see how the child grows–</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">timidly, crouching in corners.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Sometimes in the wide night</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">you hear the most mournful cry,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">a ravished and terrible moment.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">In your dreams she’s a tree</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">that will never come to leaf–</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">in your dreams she’s a watch</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">you dropped on the dark stones</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">till no one could gather the fragments–</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">in your dreams you have sullied and murdered,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">and dreams do not lie.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">-<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Mary
Oliver<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">”I am so mother-fucking-holy-shit-angry!”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">30 pairs of
eyes stare at me as I stand in the heart of the circle, heart racing, hands
clenched in trembling fists and anger literally fuming from my body like dew on
a hot summer’s day. I have never been this angry in my entire life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And then it
all kind of goes blank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">--------<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A few days
earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">It was a
sunny day in the beginning of March and I was halfway through the retreat of my
dreams. I had gone on a budget-shattering adventure to California to sit in a
circle with my favorite author and 30 likeminded people and ponder the story of
the world and re-imagine a more life-sustaining tomorrow for all of us. It was
the eclipse of my story-themed year and the highlight of my narrative journey –
a journey towards the more beautiful world my heart knew was possible. I was
here, I had arrived. I had so many expectations, yet did not really know what
to expect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But I sure
as hell did not expect this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Instead of
the bliss I thought I was going to step into, I found myself increasingly
agitated, triggered by both people in the group and the exhausting
soul-searching ventures into the past, and not at ease with my own emotions. I struggled
to find an outlet for this increasingly uncomfortable feeling in my chest and
took my escape to the nearby stream. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">I sat down on a log, far away from the
crowd of people I had distanced myself from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I was not
feeling like myself, but at the same struggling even with the concept of
“self”, thinking that “well, if this is how I am feeling, this is also me,
right? But what if I don’t like it?”. Frustration arouse again and I shouted
out to the dancing waters “WHY am I feeling this and what am I supposed to do
with it?!?” With no answer but the never ending rush of flowing water,
seemingly taunting me with its simplicity and ease of being, I sighed and stomped
my way back to reality. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And reality
was that I needed to reach out. To someone, to anything. I needed to step into
my vulnerability, as established love-and-belonging guru Brene Brown would say.
I found a guy from the group standing not too far away, a bearded, poncho-clad young
man who had been studying with shamans and had offered healing sessions for
anyone in the group feeling the need for it. And I thought to myself “well,
obviously I am in the need of something.
Here is something.” So I approached him, and law and behold – <i>asked him</i> for something I thought I
needed and wanted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I stood awkwardly next to him and barfed out my question before my “take no space and
make no demands” – side of me had a chance to swoop in with frowned eyebrows
and a swift hand on my mouth. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">“Could I ask for a healing session?” I interrupt him as he is making nice small chat. He looks at me kindly and smiles. “Of
course! We are gathering a group in the yurt later if you want to join”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">An hour
later I find myself with three others from my group huddled in a yurt by the
ocean. We all sit in a circle and the bearded guy takes a look round the
circle. “I thought we all could share a shadow side of ourselves that we would
like to integrate into our being”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh, well”,
I think to myself, “here we go”. I take a deep breath and tell them the story
of the unicorn with sparkles and sunshine in her hair, who is always cheerful,
positive and smiling, cracking jokes at the crack of dawn and always in the
pursuit of making other people feel comfortable, even when it comes at the
expense of her own integrity. A unicorn who as a toddler was knighted “a ray of
sunshine” the day her father died and has entertained the world since, on a
mission to turn frowns upside down and to make sure there is enough sprinkles
of stardust for everyone, equal and fair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">But this
unicorn was seeing that the magical world she was living in, this enchanted
fairytale, was starting to rip at the seams. Well, because you see, the unicorn
was not always happy. Sometimes the unicorn was uncontrollably sad and gloomy.
Sometimes she felt hollow and hopeless. And sometimes the unicorn found herself
at a stream screaming at water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The unicorn
had started to realize that her magical kingdom was less magical because it
only allowed for a certain kind of unicorn to graze its lush steeps. And
somehow it made the kingdom less real. And the unicorn knew that she had to
wander into the darker sides of this fairy-tale land in order to fully become
queen of these hills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">And this
was the story I shared. After taking a deep exhale, feeling slightly
uncomfortable to be babbing on about unicorns (and speaking slightly too fast
in the true spirit of “oh, do not let me take up all the time and space here
now, oh-dear-oh-dear”) poncho-guy looks over at me with an interested look and
says “it seem like you need to find your witch in the woods”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Well, I
guess so…” I say, but leave the healing session slightly baffled. “Well, where
does one find her?”, I think to myself as I stroll into the room where our next
session is to take place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The group
leader takes his seat and introduces the next exercise, to venture out in
nature on a quest for answers. We are to take a burning question with us, go
outside, find an object, meditate on it and see if we can bring about clarity
in our pursuit of answers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">“Well I
know my question alright” I think to myself and head out into the sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Still feeling
like the grumpy cat I have morphed into, I swerve off the path towards the
sunny beach and go into the shady woods instead. “I don’t want to go stare at
the glittery ocean”, I retort to no one who is asking. I follow the path, looking for something that can
serve as my meditation object. A huge tree catches my attention and I go around
it to go sit at a bench conveniently placed in front of it. I sit down and look
up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">“You got to
be kidding me!”, I yell out to the silent forest. “Come ooooon”.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In the
giant tree trunk a woman’s face is staring back at me. </span>(Okey, I am
not on mushrooms here. The woman’s face is in the form of a metallic art
installation, but I mean, you get the hint from the Universe, no?)</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I had found
my witch in the woods. I start laughing. And shake my head. “This is too
obvious”, I think to myself, but sit up straight and take in the sight.
Mindfully. Looking for answers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">“Alright,
here we have this huge ass tree. It has a giant tree trunk with this fierce
woman face on it”, I whisper to myself as my eyes trace the bark of the
colossal tree as it spreads out into branches that reach towards the sunshine.
Amongst the green leaves the birds chirp, the sunrays glisten and the
butterflies swoon (too much?). That is where all the magic happens. My eyes
trace the tree trunk back down to the roots again. “But the branches are held
up by this massive core, this seemingly peaceful, yet powerful tree trunk that
in the shadows lays the foundation to its blossoming”, I say to myself in way
too pretentious wording and realize. I need to re-connect with my dark tree trunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As I finish
my tree gazing I make myself ready to leave, but before I bid tree woman
farewell, in an attempt to make this encounter more personal, I stop to ask her
name. I hear a slight rumble in the air, as if a storm is coming and I turn to
her with raised eyebrows and an amused look on my face. “Really? Storm? That is
very ominous, even for a tree lady”. So I leave the tree trunk with the
menacing stripper-name and return to the group where we all have a little
sharing round before it is time for dinner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But still,
even after having found my witch in the woods, I am haunted by my annoyed,
angry demon. It is scratching from the inside and not even chocolate cake seems
to be calming it down (and then you know you have an issue). I step outside on
the terrace in the cool evening breeze. I am accompanied by one of my
roommates, one of the sassier sorts, who after a 15 minute talk already has got
me snapping my fingers and bobbing my head with fiery comments like “Heidi,
goddamn, let your inner bitch out”. I am feeling a fire blossoming up inside of
me and I definitely need to have an outlet for it. I go find one of my other
roomies, a charming and no-bullshit kind of girl, who recently told me she had
picked up the art of bellowing as a way to release anger and frustration. I
grab her and tell her I need to let it rip (and not the smelly way). We go out
on a cliff by the thundering waters and yell our hearts out for 5 minutes. With
a slight light-headed feeling and a raspy voice we walk back to the restaurant.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">“Damn, that
was efficient”, I tell her.<br />
“I know”, she responds with eyes glistening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Back at the
door to the restaurant she asks me what I am going to do now. I hesitate. I was
going to this lecture, but I also just want to go chill in the hot-tubs (yes,
hot-tubs).<br />
“You can always leave the lecture if you don’t like it”, she says, shrugging
her shoulders and then catches the panicked look on my face. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br />
“Oh, you don’t do that, do you?”. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br />
And she is right. I don’t. That would entail making someone uncomfortable (aka
the lecturer) and perhaps upsetting said same person. But I decide that I will
do it. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br />
“I will go to the lecture and if I don’t like it, I shall leave.”, I say in a
dramatic fashion worthy of Scarlett O’Hara and make my way to the lecture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Which turns
out to be filmed. Oh shit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I somehow
subconsciously (sneaky subconscious) find a seat IN THE MIDDLE of the audience,
still set on that if I need to leave “I am hereby giving myself permission to
leave – however awkward I feel”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Ten minutes
into it I know I need to leave. It is not a bad lecture at all and the topic is
very interesting, but my adrenaline-filled body is not up for it. It is up for
running a marathon or soaking in a hot tub. Definitely not listening to a talk
on mindfulness. I glance around and feel hot sweats rising (which does defy
gravity, I know). I take a few deep breaths and muster up courage, tell myself
that “if the lecturer takes this personally, then that is up to her, I cannot
take responsibility for how other people will interpret my actions”. I look at
the woman next to me who is holding a glass of wine, wishing I could snatch it
and gulp it, but instead I smile nervously and whisper “I need to leave”. She
looks at me slightly confused. She is probably wondering why this flustered,
pink-faced woman is wiggling in her seat and eying her glass of wine, informing
her about her up-and-coming exit. I take another look around the room, at the
film camera in the back of the hall and I bolt. I grab my jacket and somehow
make my way through a handful of cushion-seated ladies and grey-haired men and
burst out into the evening air, feeling victorious. I JUST UP AND LEFT A
LECTURE. WHILE IT WAS BEING FILMED. I AM SUCH A REBEL. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I make my
way, victorious, to the hot tubs and float under the stars, sharing lovely
small-talk with some ladies and finding myself just slightly re-centered and
not as angry and annoyed after having not one, but TWO small victories won for
my inner Storm today. I close my eyes and smile. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But the
next morning I wake up. Not smiling. “Holy shit, what the fuck is going on with
me”, is my first thought as small ripples of anger tingle through my body. But
they are soft ripples on the surface, like an ocean awaiting gushing winds. But
nevertheless, they are there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I get
dressed and I decide not to go to yoga, because I fucking do not feel like it
and no one is going to make me (entering toddler mode). But before I head to
breakfast I make my way through the woods to pay respect to the tree woman.
Both she and I know that there is something in the air and I feel like I might need
some backup. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I find her
patient face in the shadows and I put a hand on the tree trunk, close my eyes
and whisper: “If there is a space and place for me to express my anger today, I
will honor my rage and give it permission to be expressed in a respectful way”.
I open my eyes and find myself smiling at the woman’s serene expression. “Oh,
shit might be going down”, I whisper to her and head down to the restaurant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I grab some
breakfast and seat myself next to two of my group-comrades. A woman and a
man. Both just the loveliest, most empathetic creatures. I am still stewing
inside a bit, but put on a smile and greet them with a sunny “Hi!”. The woman
smiles back and asks me “How are you doing?”. ‘<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I am doing
well”, I respond with faked ease.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But then
something crashes inside of me. Just like that. Enough pretending.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“No. You
know what? I am not doing well. I am not fine. I am fucking angry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She looks
at me slightly baffled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The man
leans over, compassionately intrigued (only a few people can pull this look off).
The woman puts her head closer to mine. “I feel angry too”, she confides in a
whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My hands
start trembling and I start crying. Which is what always happens when I try and
express anger. Two pair of kind eyes are staring back into my tear-filled ones.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I hate
that I always start crying when I get angry”, I say and get even angrier at my
body’s total disrespect for my internal fury. How dare it mask it with tears?
Goddamn. GODDAMN.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The man
looks at me with a mix of compassion and determination of his face (also a very
interesting combination I know). “Heidi, we are going to have a session today
that is called Forum, where people in the group can bring up issues and have
their feelings and emotions acknowledged</span> and seen by the group. If you bring
this anger into the circle I think it could be very powerful.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He squeezes
my hand and gives me an encouraging nod. Then he leaves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I, I don’t
know. Well, hmm… Maybe… Oh dear”, I half whisper to myself as I take away my dishes
and head to the group room. Feeling like something is going to happen. Something <i>needs</i> to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The teacher
starts with introducing the Forum, a form of conflict resolution tool used in
intentional communities once they realized that everything is not always roses
and rainbows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Without
having a space for this kind of stuff to be brought up, they crumbled” he says and
continues with explaining the procedure. Everyone who feels called to express
something can enter the circle and give a “performance” while walking in loops
in front of the others. And then the other community members (in this case our
little story-group) are allowed to mirror that persons performance as a way of
giving feedback.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I am sitting
in my seat, absolutely on the verge of exploding. I am having hot flashes, cold
flashes interchanging (if this is how menopause feels like - then holy shit). I am
literally shaking with so much repressed anger, triggered during the workshop
but definitely built up over the last 28 years of my diplomatic existence. My
lovely Canadian roomie seated next to me gives me a gentle nudge and asks me if
everything is alright. “I am just feeling a bit frazzled”, I say, which is
quite an understatement.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When the
teacher ends his talk, he opens up the circle by asking if there is anyone who
would like to go first. I shoot up. And almost startle myself. Usually I am not
the one to claim anything that I dearly want by grabbing it upfront. I usually sit
and wait for someone else to give me the space, to acknowledge the humble sparkling
unicorn smiling brightly in the corner. But this is not the unicorn. This is
the witch in the woods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I realize
that there is no turning back now and make my way to the middle of the circle.
And explode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I am pretty
sure it was not pretty. Which is not was it was meant to be either. But holy
shit it was releasing. After maybe a ten minute rage-fit I calm down and sober
up. I look at the space-holders who tell me to be with this emotion and to ask
myself what this angry Heidi is trying to tell me. I stand still for what feels
like year-long minutes, just being with the aftermath of the Storm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And then it
hits me. Of course. It is Storm. I close my eyes and speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I need to
allow myself to express anger in a healthy way, because when I give way for the
storm, I also give way for the clarity that comes after it. It is the calm
after the storm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I open my
eyes and look at the space-holders who smile and nod gently. “Before you take
your seat, I want to you to walk around the circle and look everyone in the
eye”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So I walk.
I see and I feel seen. I stare into tear-filled, compassionate, soft,
encouraging, smiling eyes. Eyes who have watched the most vulnerable, hidden
part of myself be fully disrobed in front of them. After the session ends, one
of the men approaches me to shake my hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“It was a
pleasure meeting you today, Heidi”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And all of
a sudden the ban of the dark woods was lifted and the magic kingdom just got a
bit darker – and a bit more real. And the unicorn learnt she was also a bad-ass
witch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph">
<br /></div>
<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-66883719775348529862017-09-14T01:04:00.000+03:002017-09-14T01:04:29.008+03:00Without stories we would go mad<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNdE4GyOG4ZAhGE5oDtbkGTV1cRUl3-lJACLmn280Vdea1pzsLQKkHVTaA5NWmnBTXtc9Bld5ORBkJ5hwfVEoE9jN0LFCnxCWKeHc2vP-X4kJpPX7nOiQJ9HR9zKUkAIK0vskd6uB27PW2/s1600/alvaro-serrano-133360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNdE4GyOG4ZAhGE5oDtbkGTV1cRUl3-lJACLmn280Vdea1pzsLQKkHVTaA5NWmnBTXtc9Bld5ORBkJ5hwfVEoE9jN0LFCnxCWKeHc2vP-X4kJpPX7nOiQJ9HR9zKUkAIK0vskd6uB27PW2/s640/alvaro-serrano-133360.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Last week I
waved goodbye to a summer of big-city news reporting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">And as with
every journalistic job I have had I am once again left humbled and amazed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Humbled by
people. Amazed by stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am in awe
of people sharing their stories, reaching out to newspapers with their hearts
and experiences on their sleeve, ready to put it out there, make their voices
heard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am
grateful for the people who give me their time and attention when I call,
approach or e-mail seeking comments, answers or knowledge. They could simply
say no (alright, some of them do, but mostly they are pretty polite about it),
they really are not obliged to offer me anything. Yet they do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I am
touched by the voices, crackling over the phone from hard to reach destinations
and dangerous places, conveying a glimpse of a reality hard to grasp.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am moved
by the struggles that people face in their lives and that they are willing to
share, for their own sake and for others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am
blessed to bear witness to laughter, love and all those small and big things
that make up a life and to be given the opportunity to put some of that into
writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I am
impressed by colleagues, who keep on doing this job, day after day, year after
year. Despite hateful e-mails, angry phone calls and being called advocates for
“fake-news”. They keep hunting, digging and writing. They work relentlessly,
with dedication and joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">I have
spent this summer, like so many before, gathering, collecting and conveying
stories. And I am amazed to find that that well is never dwindling. My job as a
journalist is to create a space and a place for these stories to be shared, to
come alive and to be passed on. My pen is a mere vessel for the magic of
stories. And I find that to be a privilege and an honour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">But stories
are not confined to the newsroom. For me, some of the story-magic of this
summer has happened outside my work-place, or actually on the way to and from
my job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">During my
nightshifts and early mornings I have had the great pleasure to be taxi-chauffeured
to work. In those odd hours between midnight and sun-rise, I have been the
receiver of some pretty amazing stories. Instead of staring down my phone,
avoiding eye-contact or focusing on yawning out the window, I decided that
first night of June to be fully present in that taxi and inquire into the
stories of the drivers. I have heard tales of girlfriends (weirdly enough a lot
of them Finnish), of travels, families, financial situations and big
life-decisions. One man told me he uses his daughter´s Spotify when he drives
around at night. I don’t know, but something about that was so endearing it left
my heart a little bit softer. Another one happened to have a dad from Finland
and we ended up having a cheerful conversation in Finnish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">The trips
have usually never lasted more than 10 or 15 minutes, but they have always left
me feeling a bit more connected to the world and the people in it. And amazed
at how much you can learn about someone else in 10 minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">There are
stories everywhere, big and small. And they all deserve to be heard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">One of the
stories I have both been covering and taken great interest in (like the rest of
the world) is the disappearance of the journalist Kim Wall. A dedicated
journalist, whose voice will be greatly missed. Her studies in the US were
sponsored by the same organization that financed my journalism seminars in US
and Israel and something about seeing the organization’s dedication to the now
deceased journalist appear on my Facebook wall struck a chord with me. She was gone - and with her a lot of untold stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">The loss of
an impactful voice highlights the need for more voices. In the wake of Kim Wall
and in the path of every other great storyteller and story sharer there is room
for more. There is a need for more. And everyone has a story. It is all about
getting curious enough to seek it out and being brave enough to share it. </span>I
happen to have a profession where I get to do this on a daily basis. That makes
me pretty darn happy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Cheers to the storyteller within us all!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Without stories we would go mad. Even in silence we are living our stories –<b> Ben Okri</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-261322777288063952016-08-14T10:27:00.002+03:002016-08-14T13:07:06.765+03:00My Vipassana experience - Ten days of madness<b><br /></b>
<b>I was a shipwreck</b>. Or rather, I was clinging onto the pieces of driftwood scattered across the stormy seas originating from the flaky (but fabulously pink and sparkly) ship I had been frantically sailing from harbor to harbor in an endless pursuit of … well, yes… something. Swimming in murky waters of uncertainty, I was growing weary of the tiny lifeboats I exhausted myself building. I was drowning.<br />
<br />
This is when I found myself signed up for a Vipassana course. Described as <b>“a way to eliminate suffering”</b> I was grasping at anything that would help keep me afloat. ANYTHING. And something about the teachings, the philosophies of the meditation-technique resonated with me. Yes. Yes, this was exactly what I needed to do. There was a reason I stumbled upon this. This was a real lifeboat.<br />
<br />
<b>So, there I was</b> on a train out to the middle of nowhere in England. Broke, up to my ears in deadlines, anxious and stressed as a rabid hamster, and still, there I was. Just hours away from embarking on a 10 day silent co-existence with approximately 100 strangers, about to meditate for 100 hours. I must be crazy I thought. <b>This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.</b> I called my sister in a last-minute attempt to flee the situation. “What on earth am I doing? Why can’t I just get a 9-5 job and be a proper adult?” I kept on saying to myself “Sit down in the goddamn boat woman, stop making life so fricking hard”. Then it dawned on me. I didn’t have a boat, remember? It had been utterly obliterated. I needed to build myself a new one. And I was determined that this new boat was going to be a proper one. A majestic tank. A warrior of the seas. A unicorn-ship of the waves. <br />
<br />
I washed up on shore on the English countryside with all the bits and pieces of my poorly constructed joke of a boat and noticed that <b>I wasn’t alone. </b>I wasn’t the only one descending on the sandy beach this sunny morning with salt-drenched hairs, ruffled clothes, a bit scratched or bruised, and with a mildly confused gaze. Besides from my fellow ship-wreckers there were even more people showing up to face the harsh morning sun. Some in modest home-build boats, others finding their way out from the woods, and some just sailing in with a broken compass, stopping to find a new route home. There were the curious adventurers, explorers and then there were the locals, who knew the area and strolled around the pebbly seaside mindfully, carefree.<br />
<br />
We were all going to share this beach.<b> It had begun. </b><br />
<br />
<i>“You must be sure that you are willing to stay for the entirety of the retreat, all 10 days”</i><br />
<br />
The facilitators asked for probably the fourth time. Were we absolutely sure we could abide by all the rules and did we realize that this was going to be hard work? If not, we should back out now. Leaving mid-course wasn’t really an option. <br />
<br />
<b>A slight flutter of doubt</b>. Could I really? Should I really? I can still run away. Who am I trying to fool? I am not a real meditator! I am a fraud, here again trying to hustle for worthiness in yet another area. I would not make it. I shouldn’t even try. This was utterly irresponsible. I had real matters to attend to. I didn’t have time for this. Oh, and did I already mention it was crazy? <br />
<br />
But then a line from a book I had just been reading came to me. “Healing is a gift that life gives us, but it is also a mission we have been given”. Since when is it irresponsible to take responsibility for your life? For your happiness? Yet another line from one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Gilbert, made its way into my train of thoughts: <i>“You have to work relentlessly for the manifestations of your own blessings”</i>. I was here now. <b>To work</b>. This was where I was supposed to be. To work on this wrecked ship of mine. I texted my sister. “I am going to make the most of this and see this as a job, this is going to be my mission now for ten days. May it make me or break me”.<br />
<br />
<b>A cookie caught my attention</b>, as customary in my daily life. A girl a couple of years younger than me reached out with a Digestive and a cup of tea she had brought for me. We started talking and soon I was chattering left and right and realized I wasn’t the only one questioning this endeavor. “I have never even meditated”, one of the women exclaimed with laughter. I exhaled. <b>We were all frauds, we were all mad and irresponsible or we were all brave as fuck.</b> I couldn’t really make up my mind which. I just knew we were all there for a reason or another. Something about this mission had resonated with all of us and I knew, if they could make it, I could make it. <i>At least we would be miserable together.</i><br />
<br />
And so, we exhausted ourselves with chatter for one more hour. What do you talk about when you know that you won’t be able to talk for 10 more days and you have 57 minutes left to empty you word-well? Oh, maybe noble words of wisdom and citations of great minds? No, we talked about snapchat, asparagus and floppy-discs. “Floppy discs are like Jesus, they died to become the icon of saving”. I heard myself saying, reciting some silly 9-gag image I had seen the other day. And the others laughed. That is how desperate we were to fill any voids of silence. <b>5 minutes left.</b> Nervous hysterical laughter. <br />
<br />
And so the time had come. <b><i>Silence.</i></b> We weren’t allowed to make eye-contact, gestures or touch anyone for the remainder of the stay. We were from here on now to work as in solitude.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 1. </b>The gongong (ohyes, they went full Tibetan on our asses) rings at 4 am. <b>Time for meditation</b>. I go in full of energy and leave the sitting hall 2 hours later, surprisingly pleased with myself, exhilarated to be honest. I had survived my first sitting! Sure, my mind had wandered aimlessly for a majority of the time, but still! I had sat there! Persevered! Now time for breakfast. <br />
<br />
I didn’t know what to expect and was in awe of the buffet of porridge, toast, fruit, yoghurt and various spreads laid before us. So perplex that I ended up having porridge, oats, corn-flakes, sunflower seeds, peanut butter and yoghurt all in one bowl. That should tell you something about the nature of my <b>frazzled mind at that point.</b> I was simply in a state where I couldn’t make any decisions and I kept looking around at others plates to see what they were eating. Glancing at my neighbor’s neatly sliced toast with a smooth layer of tahini and the porridge with meticulously chopped pieces of apples I stared down into my bowl of disaster and thought to myself <i>“well, isn’t this symbolic”. </i><br />
<br />
After breakfast and one hour of rest (without permission to take naps – even though- yes I sneakily did the first two days) there were two more hours of meditation before lunch. Two hours of just concentrating on your nostrils and the air moving and moving out. Moving in and moving out. In and out. Endlessly it seemed like before the food bell rang again. A delicious vegetarian meal was served and then, wait... <i><b>What?</b></i> No more food? NO MORE FOOD!? Just more meditation and then a fruit snack and hot lemon water at 5. <br />
<br />
<b>NO MORE FOOD.</b> “What am I to do??! I need to eat, that’s the only way I keep my sanity! “I need my mouth be entertainnnnnnneeeddddd and I am going to be sooo hunggggrryyyyy”,<b> my inner, chubby-cheeked, cookie-nibbling five-year old yelled hysterically</b>. I filled my lunch plate up to the rims as if I was going to hike out on a 10 mile treck. “I might make it now”, I thought pleased with myself but soon drowsy from the gigantic portion. At the 7 o´clock discourse our Vipassana guru Goenka (a sympathetic Indian man with a glowing face being projected on a big screen in the meditation hall every night for one hour) explained the food-situation. “It is best to not be over-full when meditating”.<i> No shit Sherlock.</i><br />
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At 9 p.m it was time for bed and I crashed onto my pillow and stared up into the ceiling. “Only 9 more days, only 9 more days”.<br />
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<b>Day 2</b> I was mentally packing my bags. I couldn’t take one more hour of focusing on my nostrils and that tiny little area underneath our nose where we were supposed to feel sensations. I was going mad. <b>MAD</b>. During the two longer meal breaks I wandered aimlessly in the teeny-tiny wooded area we had been provided with for “recreation”. There we all strolled around, heads bowed down on the tiny paths, <b>like patients from a mental institution </b>let loose in the court-yard, trying not to run into each other (run is the wrong word, it was more like small slow-motion crashes without sound). During my midday “promenade” I heard a car on the other side of the fence and it filled me with nostalgia. “I know that world” I thought to myself longingly and then objectively examined my previous thought. “Heidi. You have been here for 42 hours. Get a grip woman”. <br />
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So the <b>days piled up.</b> I started to be able to tell people apart by recognizing their feet. I don’t think I have ever been so fascinated with feet in my entire life. Or my fingernails. I would scrutinize them daily, realizing that my left pinkynail is actually a bit wider than my right one, imagine that! <br />
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The meditation was still a challenge and during the breaks I had started the task of trying to sort out my life. But my mind wasn’t cooperating. I was sitting there, underneath a tree, preparing myself mentally, bracing myself and then shouting out (in my head obviously) “come on then, hand me those big life questions now!”. <b>And what did I think about? Soups. </b>Was my favorite really carrot soup or had I started preferring lentil soups now? Oh, yes, and how come Kellogg’s chose a tiger as their front figure? And what was the name of that tiger again? Was it just… No, it couldn’t be. Yes, I believe it was… Just… Tiger? No, no, no, wait. It was Tony, Tony the Tiger, That´s almost worse to be honest. Something about that name just doesn´t sound trustworthy. <b>Well</b>. He did market a product that mostly is made up of sugar. Of course he would have a name that sounds like a questionable cheap car-dealer.<br />
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Yes. Those sorts of questions aroused. <b>Deep stuff,</b> <i>I know. </i><br />
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<b>On day 3 </b>I actually started to make head way with some issues and had one of those ahaa-moments <i>(I have read somewhere that an ahaa-moment is actually when your soul recognizes something as a truth, something it already knew – LOVE THAT</i>) and I was sitting, basking in the sun, relishing at my newly found wisdom and then this old indian woman sits next to me and lets a big fart rip. <br />
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<i>So much for enlightenment.</i><br />
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I also found myself having a lot of arguments with my inner teenager. You know, the bored, eye-rolling, rule-ignoring brat with heavy eye-makeup. <br />
- “This sucks. I want to do somethiiiiiingggg” – she would howl relentlessly. “I know, I want to sing!”. <br />
- “No, Heidi, you are not allowed to sing”. I would answer calmly.<br />
- “Well, I DON’T CARE”, she would yell back defiantly. “I am gonna sing now”.<br />
- “No, you will NOT, young lady! You will NOT!”<br />
- “Try and stop me”, she would growl. <br />
<i>So I gave in, like any overworked teenage mom.</i><br />
- “Okey, we will go out into the woods and you are allowed to sing ONE line from a song, okey? ONE LINE”.<br />
Off we went into the woods and I let my inner teenager pick the song and she busted out… “You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down.”<br />
<b>Mic drop.</b> My inner teenager has horrible music taste.<br />
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On <b>day 4 </b>I had started peeling sunflower seeds, chopping them in half and eating them one by one. <i>Slowly. </i><br />
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Halfway through the retreat my mind had surprisingly enough started running out of stuff to think about and meditation was getting easier. And my head was not liking it. That’s when it started getting desperate. <b>Such an attention whore.</b> “Look, look, LOOOK! Listen to meeee!!”, it would scream. It was frantic, lacking coherent words and arguments it started throwing out shapes and forms. “Look, look! Here is a big, pink, blob! Look at it! Oh, and looook noooow, NOW it turned into a cupcake and now it’s growing legs and it’s running away. Chase after it, chase after it!!”. <br />
See?<b> Desperate </b>I tell you. <br />
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And then the <b>crazy part of my brain </b>started springing into action whenever the opportunity arose. You know that weird part that keeps making you question your own strength of will and decency and well, general self-preservation? The one that starts whispering when you stand by a cliff or a big bridge. “What if I was to jump…?” You laugh a bit at the thought, but then you end up taking a step back from the edge. Just in case. Well, <b>THAT part had a BLAST. </b>Example: the girl meditating in front of me had only one earring, a silverloop, and that excited my inner weirdo to the brink of insanity. “What if… What if I were to just, you know... Bite it. Bite a hold of the ring and just hiss at anyone trying to rescue the attacked woman from my teeth-grip”. For three sittings I sat with my jaws tightly clenched. You know. Just in case.<br />
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But that’s when the movies began. <b>Movie plot after movie plot </b>unraveled in my mind accompanied by the never ending soundtrack of Pitbull-songs (again blaming that teenage-brat living inside of me) and Foo fighters “he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus”. And that of course made me think about Jesus and how he would look in a music-video with Pitbull. <br />
<i>Interesting,</i> is the answer you’re looking for. Very interesting.<br />
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In the meantime, the meditation got serious. One third through the retreat we were introduced to the <b>Vipassana technique</b> which is a way of <b>self-transformation through self-observation</b>. It focuses on the deep interconnection between mind and body, which can be experienced directly by disciplined attention to the physical sensations. It is this observation-based, self-exploratory journey to the common root of mind and body dissolving mental impurity that is meant to result in a balanced mind full of love and compassion. <i>Well, sign me up for that!</i><br />
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We were now scanning our bodies in search for sensations to gain better understanding of our mind and the interconnection between them. Every body part, piece by piece was to be equanimously scrutinized. According to Vipassana teachings, there are two main reasons for misery,<i><b> craving and aversion</b></i> and they manifest in the body as sensations. Now it was time for us to face those layers and layers of misery surfacing from the unconscious and trying to remain balanced as we were realizing that everything is in-permanent. The nature of sensations is that they arise and they will eventually pass away. <b>That is the law of nature.</b> The key is to remain balanced and not let the spawn of misery shake us. This we then could apply in real life in dealing with difficult emotions and situations resulting from either overly clinging to stuff or profusely frowning upon things.<br />
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All good and well, right? But. <b>I started doubting, worrying</b>. With this technique we were trying to rid ourselves of craving and aversion. But… but… maybe I like craving? (<i>we will not even start with my cookie-addiction here</i>). And what determines what a craving is and what is a “healthy” want and ambition? And also, this whole staying equanimous through misery, will that also put a damper on the highs of life? To be able to appreciate the good, you gotta have the bad, right? Was I by the end of this going to be an<b> emotionally flat-lined vegetable?</b> I was freaking out, so I booked an appointment with the teacher, a woman exuding compassion and warmth. She listened to my anxieties patiently and said “Oh, no, you will still want things in life, but the difference is that if you don’t get it, you won’t be thrown into despair. And with joy, it will actually be a purer form of joy, since you will be aware that moment is fleeting”. <b>Smart woman, that one. </b>I was relieved and went back to work. Back to purifying the mind little by little. <i>A grueling endeavor.</i> They had warned us. It was going to be tough. And they were right.<br />
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<b>On day 7,</b> <b>we were all broken</b>. There was no energy left in the atmosphere. I had become a <b>sticky rice ball</b>, and not the fun sushi-kind topped with soy and pink salmon. I was a plain, over-cooked rice ball with questionable hygiene. I had barely enough energy to get myself to the toilet and I was convinced I left a trail of goo behind me in my attempt to snail my way to the showers. Lifting my head and looking across the yard, it looked <b>like a scene from a zombie apocalypse.</b> People were laying sprawled out everywhere, sitting stoically with blank stares or just standing, staring at leafs or whatever bug that would happen to cross their path. The only intellectual entertainment provided was the 7 o´clock discourse and I never thought I would be so thrilled to see an old Indian man wearing a towel talk for 1 hours and 15 minutes. But they were good talks, enlightening talks. About how misery is a product of our own making, that nothing outside of us can affect us unless we let it affect us and that we are all responsible for our own happiness. It all resonated with me, giving me ahaa after ahaa. BUT this Indian man, talking to us through a recording from <b>1991</b> (ohyeesssss) kept coming back to the importance of knowing the truth. Feeling it. Not merely intellectualizing it.<br />
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So, I decided to put <b>110 %</b> into this. I wanted to know the truth. I wanted to understand misery at the physical level. Stare it in the eye. So, I dusted myself off from sitting for too long on the beachy sand dune, looking across the sea for answers, and started picking up the pieces of my wrecked ship. One by one.<b> Relentlessly.</b><br />
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<b>I sat for two and half hours without moving</b>. Going through my body, piece by piece, feeling the vibrations, sensations. Hotness, coolness, tingling, throbbing. And then. <b>A massive pain</b>. In my left butt-cheek (<i>yes, very poetic</i>). It made me uncomfortable and my first reaction was to start wiggle around in an attempt to soothe it. Then I caught myself. No, Heidi, remain calm. So, I kept scanning my body, focusing on my breath, and slowly the pain went away. I was buzzing. <b>I GET IT NOW.</b> Misery isn’t permanent! As long as I stay balanced it will eventually subside and even out. I can objectively observe my misery without letting it throw me off into a soggy ditch of despair. I determine my reaction! It doesn´t control me!<br />
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On the next day, <i>my old friend anxiety </i>raised its ugly head in my chest in the form of intense throbbing and I was short of breath. I recognized it, welcomed it and calmly said “oh hi, there, I have been waiting for you”. And I waited it out. I focused on my breath, scanned my body and eventually <b>noticed my anxiety fading away</b>. I hadn’t let it got the best of me.<br />
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<b>I was walking on clouds.</b> Feeling lighter by every experience, by every meditation session, ridding myself of old baggage and gaining more and more insight about my sensations, my feelings and their interconnectedness. And then, <b>THE PAIN struck. </b>I thought I had experienced pain before, but naaa-aaah. My left thigh had been a blind spot for a while (not having any sensations) and then suddenly BOOM, massive, excruciating pain. I tried to breathe through it, tried scanning my other parts, tried to observe the pain objectively, but it started spreading through my body, making me dizzy and light-headed. I couldn’t focus, I was losing balance and the pain was unbearable. <b>I felt myself starting to come to the brink of passing out and I gave up</b>. I opened my eyes, cradled my legs in my hands, the pain immediately went away and my body just started shaking. I started crying without being able to control it. I walked out of the meditation hall and sat in a corner, in a little ball, shivering and crying. After 10 minutes I looked up with a tear-drenched face and decided to go back in. On trembling legs I stood up, went back to my seat and finished the session.<br />
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After that I was <b>shaky</b>. I had to talk to someone, so I went to see the teacher. I told her about my experience and she looked at me with a soft gaze and said. “Heidi, that is a good thing, that was some really deep stuff surfacing.”<br />
But how to handle it?, I asked. <br />
“When we face the storm, we <b>put down our anchor</b>, the breath, and we hold onto it.”<br />
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Next session I was ready. I knew the pain was going to come back. I had given up and it was going to come for round two. <b>And after a while it did. </b>The sensation was getting stronger and stronger and I was tensing up. But as I saw the storm coming I put down my anchor and stuck with my breath and scanned my body. The pain lingered. And lingered. And I realized that pain and misery can exist without throwing everything of balance. There are ups and downs and sometimes there are both at the same time. The pain, however, like the natural laws command, subsided. It eventually went away and left only a warm, subtle, throbbing sensation. <b>The storm had passed.</b> My boat was still intact, clucking gently on the soft, vibrating surface.<br />
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I stepped out into the sunshine and lay down in the grass. My body started shaking again. But this time with laughter. I lay there, with the sunrays beaming on my face and I laughed uncontrollably. I simply couldn’t contain it. I was laughing for no reason at all, other than<b> pure joy.</b><br />
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On the last day of the retreat, an hour before we were allowed to start talking again, I sat with a cup of tea, enjoying my<b> last minutes of silence</b>. It was a breezy, sunny day, but I was sitting in the shade of the tree. The sun was heating up the right side of my face and after a while I noticed my left cheek getting colder, shaded by the leaves and cooled by the wind. I felt the slightest sensation of misery arising, just the subtlest notion. <i>Well, that is ridiculous</i> I thought to myself and turned my face so that both cheeks could enjoy the sunshine, a moment that I knew was fleeting, allowing me to fully enjoy the warmth in the present. <b>In the now.</b><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“If you want to awaken all of humanity, then awaken all of yourself. If you want to eliminate the suffering in the world, then eliminate all that is dark and negative in yourself. Truly, the greatest gift you have to give is that of your own self-transformation.”</span></i></h1>
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<b>Lao Tzu </b></div>
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-79313538707894598772014-12-18T22:53:00.000+02:002014-12-18T22:53:07.481+02:00Dear santa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-81834224981881268102014-11-12T09:34:00.001+02:002014-11-12T09:34:24.574+02:00Someday is now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-83758541599815805392014-11-12T00:11:00.000+02:002014-11-12T00:11:09.107+02:00En reklammakares sanning<div style="text-align: center;">
"The power of willful ignorance can not be overstated"</div>
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En PR-arbetare förklarar hur det går till det här med att sälja in saker (i det här fallet främst kött) som vi annars kanske inte skulle köpa (om vi visste hela sanningen). Förpackning, slogans, "green"-washing och prat om teknik och framsteg är en stor del av att det säljs både onödiga prylar och charkuteriprodukter (av djur som knappt kan andas och stå under sin korta livstid), men den största orsaken till att ifrågasättbara produkter existerar är.... wait for it... konsumenterna! Vi väljer att inte se hur våra produkter tillverkas, vad de innehåller och hur de påverkar djur och natur, utan väljer att tro på reklammakarna.<br />
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"Everyone is prepared to look the other way"</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/mKTORFmMycQ" width="640"></iframe>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-68204209890220848832014-11-11T22:04:00.003+02:002014-11-11T22:04:51.022+02:00Att vara en manSnubblade över det här idag. En snabbkurs för "män som tappat bort sig själva i jämställdheten".<br />
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Män som får lära sig att vara manliga genom att hålla fokus på varandra trots att de distraheras av "sexiga kvinnor" som åmar sig. "Cringeworthy" fick en helt ny innebörd.<br />
Manscoachens förklaring toppar det hela: "Det handlar ju om att vi ständigt distraheras av saker (?!) runt omkring oss, det är bra att kunna stå kvar i sig själv och så att man kan driva sju företag och ha 30 anställda som Paolo (Roberto reds. anm)"<br />
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Kan vi bara snälla sluta dela upp alla människor i manligt och kvinnligt, lägg fokus på att hitta ditt eget jag istället för din egen könsstereotyp. Urk.</div>
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Synd att programmet, med titeln "Man och manlighet" inte tog tillfället i akt att diskutera den begränsande mansrollen och vilken inverkan den har på män och deras självförtroende och liv. Inte att tuta det gamla manshornet och sminka upp en massa brudar som sidoattraktion. <b>Blä</b>.</div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-71921789553798074832014-11-10T22:29:00.001+02:002014-11-10T22:29:50.230+02:00SminkupgradeMitt gamla mineralpuder börjar vara inne på sista flämtande kornen (<i>c/o mineralsmink, räcker en heeeeel evighet</i>), så bestämde mig för att köpa en ny dosa när jag trillade över en ekologisk bb-cream. För att vara helt ärlig så visste jag faktiskt inte vad en BB-cream är. Men köpte den, tog hem den, provade den och kom fram till att vad det än är så gillar jag den. (<i>nu googlade jag och wikipedia säger att det är en "all-in-one facial cosmetic product to replace serum, moisturizer, primer, foundation and sunblock" - låter väldigt fanceypantsy</i>). <div>
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Har den senaste tiden satsat på att få hyn i skick igen och försökt dricka mycket vatten, rengöra sminkborstarna regelbundet, scrubba, ansiktsmaska mig samt mumsa i mig havtornskapslar med jättenattljusolja och omega. O den har blivit bättre :) Så nu behöver jag inte något väldigt täckande på facet och då passade bb-creamen väldigt bra. Den är väldigt "skir" om man nu kan använda ett sånt ord för en kräm o ger en fin lyster. Men den kunde vara aaaningen mer täckande. Plus att den är lite i det dyraste laget, lite på 30 euro, men försäljaren sa att den var väldigt dryg (<i>it better be</i>). Passade på att köpa en läppenna (<i>har en massa underbara läppstift av märket benecos som jag byter mellan, men de är lite åt det glansiga hållet och ville ha en matt röd färg, det här var perfa</i>). Köpte även en benecos rouge (<i>benecos är lite av ett budgetmärke inom ekokosmetika, bra priser och bra kvalité - men kanske inte för bassmink</i>) i en lite kallare färg nu till vintern (<i>har annars ett korallrouge i puderform av C/O mineralsmink som jag älskar</i>).</div>
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sådär, då var det slut på det här parentes-inlägget. (<i>over and out</i>)</div>
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Var även in till clas ohlson o köpte de där miljövänliga värmeljusen som jag bloggade om tidigare.<br />
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Och ekomärkt målarfärg. Köpte ett gammalt sybord för 15 euro som jag ska sandpappra o måla vackert ljusblååååååå. Nom.</div>
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-1344145295385397732014-11-08T10:36:00.000+02:002014-11-08T10:36:44.984+02:00LördagsfrukostÅååååh, sovmorgon och lördagsfrukost med enhörningstofflor o camino. Fabulous.<br />
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-5044279229244048632014-11-06T22:40:00.000+02:002014-11-06T22:40:08.646+02:00Det här med greenwashingNoora Shingler tar upp en sån himla bra sak på sin <a href="http://www.kemikaalicocktail.fi/2014/11/unilever-ja-viherpesun-abc/">blogg</a> om green washing. Hon upprörs av Unilevers nya shampoo somvid första anblick kan se riktigt miljövänligt och trevligt ut, men som vid en närmare titt bara är green washing, tricks som ska få en produkt att se grönare ut.<br />
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Den stora NOLLAN uppe på flaskan ska signalera allt skit den inte innehåller, som parabener och silikoner (dock ändå bara en bråkdel av alla kemikalier som används i shampoon). Noora skriver lite fyndigt om det här uteslutningsmarknadsförande som blivit allt vanligare: "I teorin kunde till exempel småsten kunna marknadsföras som glutenfria, sockerfria och till och med ekologiska, ni förstår vad jag menar?" (fritt översatt från Nooras blogg)<br />
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Den är "infused" med ekologiska gröna teblad (vilket inte nödvändigtvis behöver innebära mer än en droppe eller två) och längst ner står det "100 natural origin"- syftandes till det gröna teet.<br />
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Hela flaskans utformning ska signalera naturlighet och miljömedvetenhet med ljusa färger och en stilistiskt ren grafik. Allt för att kunden ska lockas att ta flaskan hem i tron om att man gör både sin kropp och miljön en tjänst.<br />
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Men så enkelt är det inte. Noora tog en närmare titt och fann att INCI-listan ser ut som de flesta andra konventionella shampoona, en lång radda med kemikalier. (Roligt också att det inte fanns en uns av timotei i den, trots namnet på produkten).<br />
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Om man vill vara säker på att välja ett shampoo som är miljövänligt ska man gå på certifieringar. Om en produkt har en certifiering behöver den inte övertyga dig om att den är "100 % naturlig".Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-75147891522616648232014-11-06T00:08:00.001+02:002014-11-06T00:08:45.380+02:00Dagens underhållning<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/-HI4DC18wCg" width="640"></iframe><br />
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"There is nothing more than a woman likes to hear than how pretty she is"</div>
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RIDÅ!</h3>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-91857134178049182112014-11-05T23:27:00.001+02:002014-11-05T23:27:22.289+02:00Kemikalier och biogasNär jag var hemma i Vasa senast damp det ner två tidningar i postlådan som jag medverkat i. Till Marthabladet har jag både fotat framsida och gjort en intervju med en av mina idoler: <a href="http://denondabadankan.blogspot.se/">Katarina Johansson</a>, som skrivit böcker om kemikalier i vardagen. Sen en grej för Finlands Natur och Miljö om ÅCA:s biogas anläggning :)<br />
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Älskar att jag får ägna mig åt sånt som intresserar mig!<br />
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Här är intervjun med Katarina, en sån trevlig och inspirerande människa!<br />
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<b>Katarina skriver för en giftfri vardag</b></h2>
<i>Katarina Johansson är författaren bakom två populära böcker om de osynliga gifterna i vår vardag, kemikalierna. De gömmer sig i allt från plast till barnskor och kläder och Katarina har tagit det som sin uppgift att göra folk uppmärksamma på vad som lurar i produkterna.</i><br />
<i>- Det finns så mycket skit på marknaden, säger hon.</i><br />
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Hemma hos Katarina Johansson i Årstadal är det full rulle. Det är makens födelsedag och tårtbak varvas med packning inför semesterfirande i Småland. Sju månader gamla Frans ligger på golvet i ett babygym och tittar storögt omkring sig medan storebror Henning leker med bilar på vardagsrumsbordet. <br />
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- Vi åker imorgon, så det är lite stökigt, säger Katarina med ett leende.<br />
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Den hemtrevliga, ljusa lägenheten är inredd med retromöbler och hörnen grönskar av storbladiga växter. På golven ligger trasmattor och på disbänken står en porslinsburk fylld med köksredskap, alla i trä eller metall. Överlag är det lite plast i lägenheten och bland de få livsmedel jag skymtar, har nästan alla en ekomärkning. Katarina säger att hon och maken Magnus försöker tänka på att hålla sitt hem så fritt som kemikalier och onödiga tillsatser som möjligt.<br />
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- Men det finns ju skit här också, säger Katarina skrattande och rör handen i en svepande gest över lägenheten och pekar på datorer och sladdhärvor. <br />
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Med ”skit” menar hon allt från hormonstörande ämnen, såsom bisfenol A och ftalater till perfluoerade och antibakteriella ämnen samt tungmetaller. I elektroniken hon just pekat ut finner man till exempel ofta flamskyddsmedel och de skyddande höljena till sladdarna kan innehålla otrevliga plaster.<br />
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- Till och med i barnskor hittar man antibakteriella ämnen som är miljöförstörande. Det är sådana där dumma saker som gör mig irriterad. <br />
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Hon säger att det finns en övertygelse bland konsumenter att det som säljs i butikerna är okej och säkert, något som inte alltid stämmer.<br />
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- Det krävs väldigt lite för att få ut en kemikalie på marknaden, men det krävs ganska mycket forskning och pengar för att få bort den igen. De som jagar de dåliga kemikalierna ligger alltid ett steg efter.<br />
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<b>Ville dela med sig av informationen</b><br />
Katarina fick själv upp ögonen för de osynliga gifterna då hon gick en miljökurs på universitet.<br />
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- Jag har alltid varit intresserad av miljöfrågor och på kursen hade vi en marinbiolog som berättade om två olika ämnen som kom från tandkräm och shampoo som var problematiska. Det var inte något som diskuterades i samhället och jag började nysta.<br />
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Hon läste på om kemikalier och hormonstörande ämnen i produkter och förvånades över hur lite det pratades om de här frågorna.<br />
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- Så jag ville delge den här infon till andra.<br />
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Informationen tog sig i uttryck i en bok, ”Badskumt, gifterna som gör dig ren, fräsch och snygg”, som utgavs i april 2011. I den lade hon främst fokus på kemikalierna i produkter man hittar i badrumsskåpet. I samma veva som boken gavs ut föddes sonen Henning och då började Katarina fundera på andra produkter som hennes son skulle komma i kontakt med, allt från nappflaskor till regnkläder.<br />
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- Jag gjorde en grundlig research och insåg att jag hade underlag till en ny bok.<br />
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I oktober 2012 såg boken ”Den onda badankan. Ditt barn och de osynliga gifterna” dagens ljus.<br />
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- Jag har fått väldigt bra respons på den. Det är många som sett den som en inspirationskälla.<br />
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<b>Många skadliga ämnen är tillåtna</b><br />
Hon säger att det var relativt lätt att hitta information till boken, men att man ska veta var man ska leta. Under arbetets gång kom hon på sig själv med att bli förbannad ett flertal gånger, dels över att det finns så mycket skadliga ämnen som används i vardagliga produkter, dels att dessa ämnen är tillåtna.<br />
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- Det förvånar mig att det finns en sådan dubbelmoral i lagstiftningen, Man kan förbjuda bisfenol A i nappflaskor, men det är fortfarande tillåtet i konserver och plast. Samma med vissa ftalater som är förbjudna i leksaker, men tillåtna i andra varor. Till saken hör det att barn inte leker bara med leksaker, de leker bland annat med mobiltelefoner eller fjärrkontroller. Så då är barnet inte alls säkert, det är en falsk trygghet vi invaggas i.<br />
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Som konsument är det svårt att veta vad leksaker, möbler, elektronik och inredningsprylar innehåller då dessa varor, till skillnad från livsmedel, inte har innehållsförteckningar.<br />
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- Det är omöjligt att veta vad som är i dem. Då är det bättre att ta det säkra före det osäkra.<br />
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Och det är vad hon gjort i det egna hemmet. <br />
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- Jag började rensa ut bland leksakerna, främst mjuk plast och plast som har några år på nacken. Nappflaskorna bytte vi till glas och vi tog bort teflonpannan och ersatte den med gjutjärn. Generellt när vi handlar grejer försöker vi välja naturmaterial och så är vi ganska små konsumenter. När det kommer till badrumsskåpet resonerar jag att barn behöver ganska lite. Jag har nästan aldrig tvättat håret på Henning. Man använder många produkter för att man tror att man behöver det, men egentligen behöver man väldigt lite i hudvårdsväg. <br />
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Men visst fuskar hon ibland och hon säger att det är viktigt att inte drabbas av panik.<br />
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- Om man aldrig tänkt på de här sakerna tidigare kan det kännas överväldigande. Känner man så får man ta lite i taget. Börja med de lägst sittande frukterna, så att säga. Man ska inte ha retroaktiv ångest, det har man ingen nytta av, det är bara att se framåt. När man köper något nytt kan man tänka på att köpa en bra grej. Jag tycker egentligen inte att det är konsumentens jobb, allt i butiken borde vara schysst. Men i väntan på den utopin tycker jag att man kan försöka minska sin exponering.<br />
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<b>Katarinas bästa tips för en giftfri miljö för barnen:</b><br />
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- Plastbanta. Rensa bort PVC-plast, plast som är mjuk eller har några år på nacken. <br />
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- Undvik att lägga varm mat i plastbehållare.<br />
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- Köp gärna begagnade barnkläder eller köp miljömärkt.<br />
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- Tvätta nya lakan och kläder efter inköp.<br />
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- Undvik att ha elektronik i rummen där barnen sover.<br />
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- Välj naturmaterial till möblerna och inredningen i barnens rum.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-14039081800620116292014-11-03T21:27:00.002+02:002014-11-03T21:27:39.671+02:00Magisterdrömmar<b>Har kommit underfund med att jag vill plugga vidare.</b> Inom miljövetenskap. Har den senaste tiden varit så villrådig kring vad jag ska göra, men så slog det ner som en liten bomb i mitt huvud. Jag vill studera mer. O så briserade den här lilla bomben och stillade mitt stormiga sinne :D Det var så självklart. <i>Uh-mazing</i>.<br />
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Tror jag varit så anti plugg sen jag bajsade ut min kandidatuppsats med stor möda. Men nu är jag taggad igen. Har dammsugit nätet på bra magisterprogram inom miljöfältet och fått tips och råd av goda vänner. Nu har jag hittat två favoriter, ett i <a href="http://www.lu.se/lubas/i-uoh-lu-XAESS">Lund</a> och ett i<a href="http://sisu.it.su.se/search/info/SGMFO"> Stockholm</a>. Någon som har erfarenhet av någondera?<br />
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-88832394128353718102014-11-02T20:51:00.001+02:002014-11-02T20:51:24.217+02:00Dagens text<b>Annika Sandlund leverar i<a href="http://hbl.fi/opinion/i-dag/2014-11-01/675681/vad-fan-ar-problemet"> Hbl</a>:</b><br />
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<i>Jag är feminist. För mig betyder det att jag ser att kvinnor i de flesta samhällen har en ställning som är underordnad männen. De flesta samhällen inkluderar Finland. Det betyder också att jag tycker att det är fel och något som både män och kvinnor borde åtgärda.</i></div>
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<i>Det betyder inte att jag ständigt är arg. Eller att jag vägrar använda läppstift. Men det betyder att jag reagerade när jag 2004 meddelade min manliga chef att jag var gravid och hans svar var ”Grattis … men vad synd, jag hade annars tänkt befordra dig”. Det betyder också att jag reagerar varje gång ett anställningsformulär ställer frågan ”Är du, eller kommer du att bli, gravid inom de närmaste sex månaderna?”</i></div>
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<i>.....</i></div>
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<i>Journalisten Caitlin Moran anser att det bara finns två frågor som en kvinna bör ställa sig för att avgöra om hon är feminist eller inte. Den första frågan lyder ”Har jag en vagina?” Den andra ”Vill jag bestämma över den?”</i></div>
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<i>Utgående från egen erfarenhet är jag frestad att lägga till ytterligare en fråga, riktad till både män och kvinnor som gnäller varje gång en kvinna säger sig vara feminist.</i></div>
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<i>Frågan är: Vad fan är problemet?</i></div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-59986391834718207902014-11-02T19:59:00.001+02:002014-11-02T19:59:22.264+02:00Miljövänliga värmeljus!<a href="http://www.klimatsmart.se/nyheter/clas-ohlson-saljer-varldens-forsta-miljomarkta-varmeljus.html">Äntligen finns det miljövänliga värmeljus att köpa! </a><br />
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Bara i Sverige förbrukas 300 miljoner värmeljus om året, vilket motsvarar en mängd på över 225 ton aluminium. Aluminium kräver mycket energi vid tillverkningen och knappt hälften av ljusbehållarna lämnas in till återvinning. Det har man nu löst genom att lägga ljusen i glasbehållare som kan fyllas på med nya ljus från refillförpackningar.<br />
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När man köper ljus är det bäst att köpa 100% stearinljus, vilket jag iaf har funnit omöjligt att hitta i värmeljusformat, då de oftast består av paraffin. Men i de här nya gröna värmeljusen finns det bara stearin och de har miljömärkts av Svanen!<br />
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Finns att köpa på <a href="http://www.clasohlson.com/se/V%C3%A4rmeljus-startkit/Pr441290000">Clas Ohlson</a>!<br />
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-1311002143511950202014-10-30T10:04:00.001+02:002014-10-30T10:04:26.644+02:00De kluvna drömmarna<b>Är så kluven</b>. En del av mig vill bo i en stor stad, jobba som miljöreporter på något fränt magasin eller dagstidning, använda alla mina loppisklackar som dammar i garderoben, gå ut och dricka vin i gott sällskap, ha röda läppar och en page som kräver att jag stiger upp en halvtimme före jobbet för att fixa till det perfekta svallet.<br />
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Och så den andra delen. Den som vill hitta ett torp på landet att rusta upp. Jaga gamla möbler på loppisar och auktioner att rusta upp och måla vita och turkosa. Ha äppelträd, bärbuskar och egenodlade potatisar. Gå ut och gå med en lurvig hund i skogen och plocka svamp. Köpa en häst att installera på gården i en charmig lada tillsammans med kackliga höns och bygga en liten gårdsbastu. Ha långt hår som enkelt går att sno ihop i en fläta och bo i snickarbyxor och vita bomullströjor. (<a href="http://levmerpamindre.blogspot.fi/">ungefär som i den här fantastiska bloggen</a>)<br />
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<b>Nåja, var sak har sin tid.</b><br />
<i><b></b>Just nu är min tid tydligen att vara en evig bag-lady fast på sträckan Vasa-Åland.</i>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-47487934130336345962014-10-30T09:43:00.002+02:002014-10-30T09:44:13.406+02:00"What are you willing to struggle for?"<a href="http://markmanson.net/question">Dagens mest tänkvärda text.</a><br />
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<i>If I ask you, “What do you want out of life?” and you say something like, “I want to be happy and have a great family and a job I like,” it’s so ubiquitous that it doesn’t even mean anything.<br /><br />A more interesting question, a question that perhaps you’ve never considered before, is what pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for? Because that seems to be a greater determinant of how our lives turn out.<br /><br />......<br /><br /><b>Who you are is defined by the values you are willing to struggle for.</b><br /><br />This is the most simple and basic component of life: our struggles determine our successes. So choose your struggles wisely, my friend.</i>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-61258329040201913882014-10-27T19:26:00.001+02:002014-10-27T19:26:45.851+02:00# Veckans miljökoll<b>EU har fastställt klimatmål</b><br />
EU-politikerna är nöjda, men miljöföreningarna är inte övertygade. Ungefär så verkar sammanfattningen lyda efter att EU natten till lördagen slog fast sina klimatmål till 2030 (<a href="http://supermiljobloggen.se/nyheter/2014/10/ambitiost-eller-oacceptabelt-asikterna-om-2030-malen-gar-isar">SMB</a>).<br />
Den röda tråden i rapporten är att utsläppen av växthusgaserna ska minskas med 40 procent jämfört med 1990 och andelen förnybara energikällor ska öka till 27. Även energieffektiviteten ska öka med 27 procent. Utsläppsrätterna i EU:s handelssystem ska minskas årligen med 2,2 procent mellan 2021 till 2030. Fram till 2020 är den årliga minskningstakten 1,74 procent. Fattigare EU-länder får stöd genom att 10 procent av utsläppsrätterna ges till dem. (<a href="http://www.svd.se/naringsliv/nyheter/eu-enades-om-klimatmal-till-2030-sveriges-slipper-extra-hoga-mal_4039855.svd">DN</a>)<div>
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<b><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'DroidSerif Web', Georgia, serif; font-size: 0px; line-height: 21.9940013885498px;">Sett till din bedömning av vetenskapen, vad borde EU:s 28 medlemsländer ha för mål till år 2030 för att vi ska ha en rimlig chans att hålla den globala temperaturökningen under två grader?</span>Johan Rockström</b>, chef för Stockholm Resilience center säger till <a href="http://supermiljobloggen.se/nyheter/2014/10/johan-rockstrom-besviken-over-klimatuppgorelsen">SMB</a> att detta inte är nog.<br />– <i>Det enkla svaret är att vi med god säkerhet vet att världens utsläpp av växthusgaser måste minska med i storleksordningen 80 procent till 2050 jämfört med 1990. Och för att vi ska ha en chans att nå dit så behöver EU ha ett mål på minst 60 procent till 2030. Det är ett absolut minimum och det är helt nödvändigt om man tar hänsyn till det faktum att det kommer vara nio miljarder människor på jorden 2050 och att världsekonomin kommer tredubblas till dess.</i></div>
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<a href="http://hbl.fi/nyheter/2014-10-24/672331/eu-ledarna-overens-om-klimatmalen">HBL</a> rapporterar att statsminister <b>Alexander Stubb</b> (Saml) är nöjd med överenskommelsen. Han säger att paketet innehåller många goda element för Finland och var speciellt nöjd med modellen som innebär att utsläppen ska minskas inom trafiken, jordbruket och uppvärmningen av byggnader. Han anser att bördan i framtiden fördelas på ett mera schyst sätt mellan medlemsländerna. Finland drabbas av den nuvarande modellen där små och rika länder tvingas bära en större börda. Hittills har länderna i östra Europa i praktiken fått öka sina utsläpp av växthusgaser. Enligt den nya modellen måste även fattigare länder minska utsläppen.<div>
Det är med dessa riktlinjer som EU beger sig till klimattoppmötet i Paris nästa år då man hoppas få till ett globalt avtal kring frågorna.</div>
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<b>Världsbankchefen jämför ebolahotet med klimatförändringen</b></div>
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<b>Jim Yong Kim</b>:<i> Ebola and climate change have a few things in common. Most importantly, we are running out of time to find solutions to both. Also, until very recently, the plans to fight them were either non-existent or inadequate. And, inaction is literally killing people – one because of the rapid spread of a deadly virus, the other from the poisoning of the atmosphere and the oceans. And finally, perhaps most critically from our point of view, resolving these problems is essential to development, whether from the perspective of human suffering, economic growth, or public health.Ebola and climate change have a few things in common. Most importantly, we are running out of time to find solutions to both. Also, until very recently, the plans to fight them were either non-existent or inadequate. And, inaction is literally killing people – one because of the rapid spread of a deadly virus, the other from the poisoning of the atmosphere and the oceans. And finally, perhaps most critically from our point of view, resolving these problems is essential to development, whether from the perspective of human suffering, economic growth, or public health.</i></div>
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<b>Forskare varnar för surare hav</b></div>
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Storbritanniens forskningschef är orolig över havens framtid. De absorberar drygt en tredjedel av koldioxidutsläppen som människan orsakar och försurningen av haven har ökat med 25 % sedan industrialismens början. Han säger till BBC: “If we carry on emitting CO2 at the same rate, ocean acidification will create substantial risks to complex marine food webs and ecosystems.”</div>
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Försurningen lär förvärras i takt med att haven värms upp av klimatförändringen.</div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-71511953563284162932014-10-17T12:00:00.000+03:002014-10-17T12:00:00.898+03:00Limmade och gladaFörde förra veckan två par shoes till skomakaren, ett par Converse och ett par av mina älskade Finlands-läderskor. Båda hade börjat få en lös sula undertill och behövdes limmas. Fick tillbaka skorna en vecka senare, limmade och klara för 10 euro! =O Tycker det är ett himla billigt pris att betala för att förlänga livslängden på ett par skor. Nu ska jag föra dit mina andra skor som behöver lite uppfräschning (byta klackar och lagas).<br />
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<b>Om du hittar shoes made in Finland på loppis, tveka inte!</b> Stört bra kvalitet. Mina absolut bästa vinterstövlar hittade jag på loppis och de är gjorda i Finland (inte denna på bild dock, dessa är mina höst-stadsskor). Men vinterstövlarna har varit med mig i vått och torrt i fem år nu snart. Finska läderskor på loppis är ofta väldigt lite använda (löns att kolla sulan under skon ifall de är slitna eller inte) och de är väldigt bekväma.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-29640988072804563832014-10-17T00:16:00.000+03:002014-10-17T00:16:17.273+03:00Skrämmande är bara början<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><i><a href="http://newsner.com/2014/10/nar-hans-rosling-visar-vad-som-hander-med-ebola-kommer-du-forsta-precis-hur-illa-det-kan-ga/">Newsner:</a> "FN:s säkerhetsråd höll natten till onsdag ett krismöte om epidemin. Anthony Barbury, FN:s samordnare, hade dystra besked: Om vi inte lyckas bromsa epidemin inom 45 dagar är slaget förlorat och kaos väntar.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Den 1 december måste 70 % av Västafrikas ebolasmittade vara isolerade och 7 av 10 begravningar måste ske på ett helt smittsäkert sätt."</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I det här klippet visar Hans Rosling, professor i internationell hälsa hur snabbt ebola sprids och varför det är så viktigt att stoppa epidemin nu.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/sYVUs2_F5Kg" width="640"></iframe>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-80241233344232019992014-10-16T20:44:00.003+03:002014-10-16T20:44:56.912+03:00Katten med hattenHittade en hatt på Emmaus. Blev lite kär. Tog hem den. Tvättade den med tallsåpa. Funderade lite kring vad det faktiskt var för tyg. Satt den på huvudet. Vart glad.<br />
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-58549899458313127652014-10-15T12:29:00.002+03:002014-10-15T12:29:40.989+03:00Kemikalier i bindorI augusti lät <a href="http://www.womensvoices.org/issues/detox-the-box/always-pads-testing-results/">Women of the Earth</a> testa 4 av always bindor för kemikalier och skadliga ämnen. Visade sig att det finns en del otrevligheter i de till synes oskyldiga plastpaketen, bland annat aceton och cancerframkallande ämnen.<br />
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Så här lyder uttalandet av Women of the Earth efter att man fått testresultaten:<br />
<i>The results of the testing indicate that both scented and unscented Always pads emit toxic chemicals, including chemicals identified by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services National Toxicology Program, the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, and the State of California Environmental Protection Agency as carcinogens, and reproductive and developmental toxins. </i><br /><br /><b>Och dessa är ämnen som hittades i testet:</b><br />Styrene: carcinogen<br />Chloromethane: reproductive toxicant<br />Chloroethane: carcinogen<br />Chloroform: carcinogen, reproductive toxicant, neurotoxin<br />Acetone: irritant<div>
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När jag intervjuade <a href="http://www.kemikaalicocktail.fi/">Noora Shingler</a> (miljöjournalist, bloggare och författare) i våras så berättade hon att hon fick upp ögonen för osynliga kemikalier i vardagsprodukter i samband med att hon fick i uppdrag att undersöka just bindor. </div>
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formaldehyd och om man är allergisk mot det kan man få utslag ner på benen, berättade hon.</span></div>
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Exakt i vilka komponenter som kemikalierna finns i bindorna är ännu inte klart, enligt Women of the Earth, som nu efterlyser mer tester och större ansvarstagande från Always.</div>
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Jag vill här slå ett slag för <b><a href="http://www.menskopp.se/?Sida=Varfor">menskoppen</a></b>. Världens bästa substitut till både tamponger och bindor med tvivelaktiga komponenter. Var först tveksam till koppen som jag tyckte verkade som världens skummaste grej, men nu skulle jag inte klara mig utan den! Det är både ett billigt, miljövänligt och praktiskt alternativ. Plus att det är så löjligt bekvämt. Just saying.</div>
Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-67559461022272905122014-10-15T11:51:00.001+03:002014-10-15T12:05:33.593+03:00#Veckans miljökoll<b>Läkemedel och p-piller slår ut djurfaunan</b><br />
Forskare slår larm om att man bör reda ut miljleffekterna av våra vanligaste läkemedel innan djurlivet tar allt för stor skada. Undersökningar visar att bland annat antidepressiva medel och hormonella preventivmedel har stor inverkan på djur och natur. Tidigare i september avslöjades det (skrev om det i en tidigare #miljökoll) att antalet vilda djur halverats de senaste 40 åren. En av orsakerna tros nu vara miljöförstöring i form av läkemedelsutsläpp. Studier visar bland annat att i sjöar med höga halter av hormonella läkemedel har över 75 procent av djurlivet dött ut.<br />
Läkemedel befaras till och med ha en större inverkan på natur och djur än bekämpningsmedel då processerna är långsammare och inte lika synlig som miljöförstöring orsakad av giftiga utsläpp.<br />
<i>“With thousands of pharmaceuticals in use globally, they have the potential to have potent effects on wildlife and ecosystems. Given the many benefits of pharmaceuticals, there is a need for science to deliver better estimates of the environmental risks they pose,”</i> säger Kathryn Arnold, på University of York till <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2014/oct/13/drugs-flushed-into-the-environment-could-be-cause-of-wildlife-decline">The Guardian</a>.<br />
<b>Visste du att?</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: SV-FI; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Kombinations p-piller innehåller i medeltal
mellan 20 och 35 mikrogram östrogen per piller och är den största
hormonförorenaren i våra vatten, enligt en undersökning gjord av Svenskt vatten.
De nyare preventivmedlen, såsom p-plåster och p-ring, innehåller en större mängd
syntetisk östrogen. Ett plåster kan nämligen innehålla närmare 600 mikrogram,
alltså drygt 17 gånger mer än ett enda p-piller. Endast en liten del av östrogenet
transporteras genom huden och för att ”vara på den säkra sidan” fyller man
plåstret med en mycket större mängd än vad som behövs. Efter användning finns
cirka 460 mikrogram EE2 kvar i plåstret, en mängd som är tillräcklig för att
förorena över fyra miljoner liter i vatten i så hög grad att fiskar påverkas.
Resterna från p-ringen är ännu större till sin mängd och kan förorena 24
miljoner liter vatten. Därför är det extremt viktigt att inte slänga p-plåster eller stavar i toaletten eller i naturen!</span><br />
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<b>Nytt värmerekord i september</b><br />
Enligt NASA var både september och augusti de varmaste månaderna som uppmätts sedan 1880. Man uppskattar att hela år 2014 kommer blir rekordartat varmt.<br />
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<b>Östersjöns bottnar kan dammsugas friska</b><br />
Genom att avlägsna det översta lagret av de döda bottensedimenten i Östersjön ska man kunna öka syrehalten i havet. Det tror i alla fall miljöteknikföretaget Teknikmarknad som utvecklat en "dammsugare" som förutom att suga bort dött bottenslam ska kunna ta upp även en del av fosforn som ligger gömd i sedimentet.<br />
Försöket är en i raden av många uppfinningar som har som syfte att rädda den allt syrefattigare Östersjöbottnen. För tillfället utgörs de döda bottnarna av en yta som är två gånger större än Danmark.<br />
Men det nya tilltaget får kritik: Fredrik Wulff, professor i marin systemekologi vid Stockholms universitet, varnar för att metoden kan leda till att miljögifter som ligger på botten rörs upp. Men på Havs- och vattenmyndigheten säger man att de tester som tidigare gjorts visar att man kan suga upp sediment utan att ämnen sprids i vattenmiljön i övrigt.<br />
Källa: <a href="http://miljoaktuellt.idg.se/2.1845/1.588313/ny-dammsugarteknik-ska-radda-ostersjons-bottnar">Miljöaktuellt</a>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7341925285451608486.post-18185601846656783832014-10-14T11:47:00.000+03:002014-10-14T11:47:07.349+03:00Nån som missat?<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/I_r9zoaLzec" width="640"></iframe><br />
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Aviciis nya. Diggar.</div>
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13862255241341736493noreply@blogger.com0