An ode to the whisper of the wind…

I found you sitting on a little cloud in Heaven looking down on me.

I asked you “Do you like me as I am?”

You replied “How could I like you any other way? This is who you are.”

And in a clearing in the woods I found my voice, that I’d so long forgot.

I awoke anew with the rising sun.

In my hair glittered sunbeams of the promise land.

When all is well, beauty exudes from within.

Sparkles are caught in the fabrics of man.

It’s why lovers eyes open wide.

Yet love is already there, waiting to exhale its breath of beauty.

Drenching the body in its luster and its awe.

I heard his melody in the treetops.

The foreshadowing of the wind.

And I knew that I had finally found him in me.

The jester.

The man of many tales.

My heartsong.


Because the love of your life is within you.

What is will come to be.

And so it is.


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Two men and a bed…

Last night I went to bed with Rimbaud and Jöback. Two gay men and me. Quite the threesome.

On that note I highly recommend you never start writing a blog that alludes to sex in the headline. Because sooner or later you will start finding sex jokes and innuendo everywhere. It becomes a habit. Though most of the time, of course, you’re busy doing other things like say setting up a business, charity work and working as a freelance creative. Another threesome. A threesome some people might miss if they only read the headline.

I had the twins round yesterday and it struck me how far we’ve come. It is the most beautiful feeling. If you’ve ever tried raising other people’s children, children who’ve been abused since birth, you’d understand. It’s not easy. The rewards are paramount, but you’re never guaranteed them. And if you, like me, is a family support and you don’t have the right to adopt you often feel like you never do enough. It’s a heartbreaking feeling. It’s a bizarre feeling too, because you are helping, but it would be so much nicer if you had no worries about paying for any school, any extracurricular activity, any therapy and so forth. You pay for all that, you just don’t have as much as you’d like.

And that’s where you have choice – either you see the good you are doing, or you think you aren’t doing good enough.

I’ve thought a lot about how we see things and therefore act this week. Some conversations with my sister and best friend about people’s, including my own, love lives (when I’m not having threesomes with gay men, that is) have made me reflect upon this. You know how you have these patterns? You like certain men (playful mavericks), you react in certain ways (impress) and you feel in certain ways (not good enough). Then you meet men you don’t care much for (not crazy enough), you react in certain ways (completely aloof) and you feel in certain ways (goddess). End result, completely different. The men you don’t try to impress run after you, the men you try to impress stay aloof from you. Possibly because the men you try to impress never liked you in the first place beyond a certain level of attraction…and maybe that’s why you picked them.

Of course we act in certain ways to feed our subconscious beliefs. I think I’m not good enough so it’s perfectly OK if men I don’t like, like me. If men I do like, like me we’re on unchartered territory. I might end up with claustrophobia. Or I might end up messing things up just to prove my unworthiness. Or maybe I’d just have to be vulnerable. I might lose someone I care about as life isn’t certain. I might have to trust and trust can be broken. I might realize I’m actually quite lovable. Now that’s some scary shit. (I mean it’s just old thought patterns stuck in your brain since childhood. None of that is real. But you have habitual feelings attached to habitual thoughts and sometimes we get stuck there, simply because we haven’t figured out there are other ways.)

So then you sort of reach the conclusion that you are just going to be. Hang with the tension. Not try to prove your greatness, whilst thinking you have to do it to hide your unworthiness. You have to just be. With all your uncomfortable thoughts that you’ve now stirred to the surface. Hopefully that will mean they soon evaporate. If you try to suppress them, or wrestle with them, on the other hand, they will stay.

You also reach the conclusion after years of painful (or not…) investigation that it’s not a good idea to date “nice” men whom you aren’t that into (the not so playful not mavericks). You have to find the guy who you like, who likes you. You can’t compromise on the quality of their weirdness. That’s just non-negotiable.

It’s getting late. I’m thinking I need to crack on with a few more things with Magique (never start a business unless you are perfectly OK with being on unchartered territory…like I should be in my love life) and then go to bed with two of my favorite men. Maybe tonight it will be Leto and Rimbaud instead? One gay guy, one experimental guy (someone once tried to put me off him by saying he does anything – I told the person I could quite accommodate that) and one of me. Of course one is also dead and I don’t know the other. Could be a slight problem.

(Rimbaud was a famous French poet. Jöback is a famous Swedish musical artist. If you don’t know Leto, you’ve been missing out. Google Leto + acoustic.)

Image Source: Magique
Photographer: Valentina Socci

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You look familiar. Oh, really?! Do you watch porn???

Do you ever catch a glimpse of something and go “Oh but that’s me!” realizing you’d forgotten? Not necessarily that you are porn star, but…other parts of yourself?

Once, many years ago, I watched a Superman movie and had a fright because I grew up admiring Lois Lane. Whilst a bit messed up the woman had gumption. Looking at my life at that stage I had very little of that gumption. I was insecure, unhappy and my guy was not Superman. Bizarre as it may sound, it was a wake-up call.

My fears had taken over my gumption. In my heart was a woman trapped by fear. Other times in life my ego took over and I was impressing instead of living.

There are also other parts of ourselves. The things we love in life. And somehow we have to live our passion and the personality we wish to have.

When it comes to me there’s the mother. The sex goddess. The woman who was raised by a man and therefore likes fast little cars, propeller planes and dirty jokes (as this blog can testify to). There’s the sarcastic intellectual who spent way too many hours reading books and analyzing life. There’s the grounded spiritual woman who seeks to learn from every experience. There’s the “I’m gonna fucking make it ego.” There’s the boho artist who crawls down streets to get the right camera angle and obsessively comes up with plots for books and movies and can’t go to bed unless there’s paintbrushes in the room. The one who has charcoal on her nose. There’s the girl who was raised in the country and needs her herbal garden and country kitchen where she can bake pancake on Sundays. There’s the city woman in stilettos and mini-skirts. There’s the entrepreneur who walks around thinking about business solutions, marketing tactics and how to lead a team. There’s the director who seeks to understand people and bring out the best in actors. There’s the Swede walking on Rodeo Drive, flying to a township in Africa and getting lost in the alleys of France. There’s the free thinking spirit and adventurer. There’s the morally obsessed woman who believes in having traditions. There’s the witch who brews up potions and lotions, believes in celebrating the shifting seasons and walks barefoot in morning dew. There’s the scientific brain who likes to have everything proven by statistics. There’s the gypsy and the homemaker. There’s the woman in leather pants and long skirts. There’s the eco-hippie in Louis Vuitton. There’s the ballerina who does street dance.

I don’t find any of this very confusing, apart from how to divide my time between all the things I love. I still remember a few years back though when I was chatting to a friend in San Francisco and told him I was about to head out in the garden to pot some plants (probably wearing clogs) and he was like “You? Potting plants?” I didn’t see why not. He didn’t see beyond the stilettos in the city.

There are times, however, when I forget a certain side of myself. I forget to live that part of me. And it is as if I die a little. Maybe I haven’t lived it because I got busy with something else, or there were problems that drained me, or insecurities made me avoid it. Then suddenly I see an image, I read a book, I meet a person and I remember the aspect of myself I’d forgotten. It feels like an explosion. Suddenly I’ve come alive again.

Last year I started writing poetry again. I remembered that true love might actually exist. I started living a part of myself I’d long forgotten. This year I’ve come to remember how much I love to learn and intellectualize. I’ve also remembered I have a social life (it was bound to hit me at some point). I feel like little pieces of myself are finally coming together. Because whilst I haven’t been confused about all the things I love, I’ve often been confused about how to combine them all. Someone once told me I have too many talents and that joke hasn’t been lost on me. I’ve often felt torn between countries, passions and lifestyles. No point in having talents if you aren’t actualizing them. My life has often been a fight for living my passions instead of living them. In the past two years I made a massive effort to bring it all together with Magique, Little Angels and movies. That’s to say Magique (which combines what I love in life in general) supports Little Angels, where I make movies…

My life is still not seamless. I have a day job. Which I find it hard to focus on. I usually prioritize Little Angels, Magique and the odd script. Which means I’m usually broke. But somehow I think it’s all starting to come together. And I’m working on the day job…

Image Source: Pinterest 

This video sums up a lot of how I saw my future growing up. From propeller planes to film sets and African sunsets. I always had quite the imagination. Never saw the limitations. Possibly half the problem and half the solution. Unlike Swift, however, I intended to find a husband with sex appeal, not just a fling. Some men are just so…irresistible though.


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The hot make-up…

I think people have a lot of make-up sex because they realize what they were fighting about in the first place was a misunderstanding. We have a tendency to project our past on the present and push for an encore of past events. We also have a tendency to misread signs and interpret them in the way we want to see them (which isn’t always in the best of lights). And when we get triggered we don’t necessarily think before we act.

Sometimes when something hurts us we react. We scream. We cry. We lash out in anger. We retract. We play the clown, pretending nothing can touch us.

Personally I’ve always favored retracting. Then last year someone said something which really hurt me. It didn’t help I had PMS either. I cried all the way on my flight from Copenhagen to Cape Town pretty much, until I somehow sedated myself with painkillers and fell asleep. And if you know me you also know I don’t cry very often and if I do it’s usually moist eyes. I’m not very good at the crying part, but having PMS I couldn’t put a lid on my feelings. Couldn’t tell them to behave. And it was actually quite liberating.

You have to understand, this was not something said out of malice, but it was something which I felt very strongly about. The person means a lot to me and basically told me what matters a lot to me matters fuck all to them, simply because they wanted me to care less about it. Of course, I didn’t care less about it though, it just hurt me they didn’t care.

I made a decision then. I made a decision I had to talk to them. I understood this wasn’t said out of malice. I also understood that unless I made them realize what it meant to me and that they mattered to me, our relationship would deteriorate because I would withdraw more and more, thinking there’d be no point in sharing anything that mattered to me. As we’ve always been very different, I’ve applied this tactic many times in the past. The more they’ve voiced their negative feelings about how I live my life, the more I’ve withdrawn from them.

So once I felt I was calm and could speak from my heart, I did so. And I was very happy about it because for the first time I think they understood how I feel when they say certain things. And seeing them try to change has warmed my heart.

In this instance, it’s a relationship I’ve worked on for years. A relationship where sometimes I’ve felt I’ve had the courage to voice my thoughts and other times I haven’t, because I’ve been too scared I’d get hurt. At times I’ve also responded with anger, withdrawal and complete ignorance. Last year I’d reached a point where I knew if I kept acting a certain way, I’d reap the same results. I’d also healed more emotionally and was therefore willing to open up more.

This week something else hurt me. And I could and still can feel the urge to move away from it. The urge to get angry about it. The sense of hopelessness as I don’t know an exact way of fixing it. Whilst I believe speaking from the heart is the best remedy in most instances it doesn’t guarantee the other person will listen. In the other example it was two people who have tried for years to improve a relationship. That’s very different from dealing with people who might have no interest in improving their relationship with you. And it can be really, really scary if you know something needs to improve or it will affect a lot of other things.

Right now I feel I could use both a stiff drink and a hug (mainly a hug), but what I choose this year is unconditional love. To act from that space. It’s not always feasible, which is why I shouldn’t act at times. It is possible to constantly bring yourself back to a place of unconditional love though. It’s possible to acknowledge whatever feelings of discomfort you may have and rather than trying to resolve them by putting something else on top or diffuse them with distraction, you wait until they dissipate on their own. No anger, getting distracted by other things, withdrawing, or whatever else it is you feel like doing. You hang with the tension; hang with the discomfort until it gives way. You let it go.

I don’t know exactly why the process of hanging with the tension works, but it does. Suppression doesn’t. Holding onto emotions/situations and debating them in your head doesn’t. Putting bravery, humor, or whatever else on top doesn’t. Pretending the issue isn’t there doesn’t. Only when you face it can you let it go. Only then can you access that space of unconditional love.


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He’s got you in chains…

The secret to finding long lasting love is finding a man who can open your soul and your legs. Simultaneously he should have your back, stimulate your brain and make you laugh, whilst building the pillars of a healthy relationship.

The truth is, at some point most relationships fail. Because even if all the ingredients are there – the soul connection, the emotional connection, the intellectual connection, the humor and the sex – someone acts out some behavior that will tick you off. The pillars of the relationship will start to crumble. You will feel angry because you think they have done something wrong to you. Maybe they did do something wrong, maybe you provoked it, maybe you just imagined they did something wrong based on how you processed the information (usually based on your past). Maybe it’s his fault, maybe it’s yours.

Likely they will also lose some of their humor, sex appeal and what have you at one point or another, because they’re going through some shit. Life happens and people turn lackluster for a while.

This is when most of us justify our own bad behavior. Because he lied we can lie. Because he cheated, we will cheat. Because he doesn’t communicate we don’t have to either. Because he doesn’t want sex, we can go fuck someone else. Because he lost his sense of humor, we can turn into a sauercraut. Because he’s an ass, we can be an ass too. Our actions turn into a big “fuck you.” And all along we think it’s his fault. We think we want to save the relationship. But do we?

We can’t accept someone behaving like an ass, but to put a stop to it in a loving manner is an art. To be able to see our own emotions, let them go and interact with the other person through love takes strength. To communicate from a pure place. To put your foot down without screaming. To honestly ask what’s going on instead of blaming. To share your pain without hurting them in turn. To listen to what they have to say about you without getting defensive. And to leave in case they choose to continue whatever it is they are doing if you are unable to accept it. Because by the end of the day a relationship is about love – either you accept a person for who they are, or you walk away. You can’t be with someone and blame them for who they are at the same time. That’s madness. Everyone has some flaw you need to accept, but if something’s unacceptable to you and you cannot learn to love them in spite of it, you gotta pack your bags and go. No matter how good the sex is, or how comfortable it feels to “have someone there.”

You’re a wonder. You’re amazing. Your core, your heart, is the most incredible thing. But so is his. No matter how far underneath the blankets it’s hiding. Relationships are about bringing that out. The naked heart. Seeing it, sharing it and celebrating it. When it becomes about something else, things start to fall apart.

The same goes for friendships. Business relationships. Any kind of relationship. You gotta act and communicate through love and know what you accept and what you don’t. You gotta keep your zen even when they’re creating a storm. Otherwise they own you. And none of us are happy being controlled by someone else. Unless in the bedroom, of course.


Gerard Butler and Jennifer Aniston for W. Sexiest editorial ever? 

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The withered face of love and addiction…

I had a spectacular experience today. I saw the face of love. It’s the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.

The year before last two friends of mine relapsed into drugs. One sent me a message, asked for help and went to rehab. One spoke to me at length about being sober and having no problems, didn’t ask for help and didn’t go to rehab. It didn’t matter how we pleaded. Eventually I stopped seeing this person, not because I wanted to, but because I knew I couldn’t see them alone anymore because they couldn’t be trusted alone and because I had so much going on and couldn’t keep putting myself in a position where I had nightmares about other people’s lives. And that’s what I used to do. I’d wake up in a sweat dreaming about overdoses.

There was also a part of me that felt I failed. I failed to get them help. I failed to make them realize they needed help. I failed to get hold of the resources we needed to get them help. I felt I wasn’t good enough. In fact, that year I felt I didn’t bring enough to anyone, because everyone was struggling. I was overwhelmed with disasters in every direction and it was more than I could handle.

I often thought myself unwanted growing up and I tried to compensate by bringing something I knew was wanted. I brought my skills and my talents. So when I can’t bring that I sometimes don’t show up at all. That year when everything fell apart I felt so inadequate, so “not good enough” that all these old wounds started bleeding, without me even realizing it. I just retracted into myself, as I often do.

Today I bumped into my friend when visiting another friend, Tony who has cancer, and we laughed about old times. I also told them I want to see them. I want to speak to them.

As I asked them to have coffee with me old memories of having coffee with them flashed through my mind – one time them telling me their life story which is the most heartbreaking story I ever heard, I almost puked; another time me trying to convince them to see the light and move away from abuse. Mingled with the memories another image popped up; an image of me once again trying to make them see something. To convince them to find happiness.

With that image came fear and despair – fear I’d fail; fear I’d turn into some preacher; fear for them and the path they’re on. And that’s when something hit me; this thought telling me I love them smashed the other images to pieces and my fear melted away. I was reminded that the only thing I owe anyone in any kind of relationship is to love them, not save them. I can’t. It’s not up to me. I can tell stories about other people; about myself and my journey. I can do all of that, but it’s not my job to change them. All I owe the people in my life that I love, is love. And I can give that, even if I can’t give anything else.

Naturally, there are other elements to a relationship and if someone is hurting themselves you are likely to step in and get them help, but you can only do so much. By the end of the day you have to accept them for who they are and where they are at on their journey. You may not even be able to be too close to them if they are acting destructively, but you can love them.

As this came to me there was also a huge sense of acceptance – to love someone regardless of how they choose to live their life. For me that is pretty big as I was once a control freak who believed success and therefore love was granted if you perform well. As mentioned: skills and talents. In fact, one of my biggest fears growing up was drugs. I thought becoming an addict was as low as you could go; totally losing control of yourself. And if you don’t like yourself very much and fail, then you fail again to prove just how shitty you are for having failed in the first place and that means if you were to take drugs, chances are you wouldn’t stop. As I didn’t like myself very much growing up I stayed away from drugs like the plague.

I can’t cure Tony of his cancer either and for a period it really pained me that I didn’t have the funds to do something to change his life, his food (or lack thereof), his worries. It made me sick of myself as I felt someone that ill should be a bigger priority than some of my other projects.

You can help Tony here through Indiegogo/Generosity

I think sometimes my own fear that I can’t do enough and be enough means I avoid something. That feeling of helplessness and an ability to suffer on the behalf of others make me avoid it altogether. I haven’t been to see Tony for a while – I saw him today, because I realized he wants to see me. Even if I can’t bring miracles. Even if I can’t bring skills. Even if I don’t always know what to say.

Sometimes I avoid calling my grandma, because I can’t cure her loneliness and I feel guilty because I don’t live in Sweden. After mom died my grandparents on both sides helped raise us. And I feel I owe it to her to bring her the happiness she brought me. The safety, the stability that I now try to bring to kids here. But whilst I can give her my love, I can’t give her my life.

Today I simply saw love. I saw how you love people even when they don’t love themselves. I saw how you love the imperfect. I saw what it means to people that you love them. I saw how I’ve sometimes avoided giving love as I felt that love alone wasn’t enough. That I had to do and be something more. I saw how I often haven’t loved myself. I saw love for myself.

I saw love in a torn person’s face and that made me see love everywhere.


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Good morning lover…

Each person is a story. Graspable and ungraspable at the same time. Comprehensible, yet incomprehensible. As a person leaves this world, what is left is the impact they had on others; their story turning into other people’s stories. Still, with each person gone a story is lost, unless captured in memories, photos, films and books. Fragments of a life, pieced together. Analysis from people who most likely don’t understand. They create their own stories around the story. Still, that’s what makes it so beautiful – how we fuel our own fires with that of someone else’s. Yet, at the same time, it’s the tragedy as we will feed our own beliefs to the point of ridicule. Look at what happened in Germany, look at what’s happening with terrorism today. The religion at fault. The scapegoat.

Give me a word and I’ll write you a poem. I can even write you a story. I can write about anything. I can make up the unbelievable and believable. In high school I called certain discussions and essays “intellectual bullshitting.” I still do. I can take a quote or a novel and make up almost anything about what it means. I can weave it into a nice story and argue my point of view. You can debate anything if you really want to. I can look at things from different point of views and argue them; making up more arguments as I go along. Most people don’t. Most people look at it from their point of view; using the fabric of their life as a point of reference. Just like I do when I write poems and stories. I’ll write about anything you ask, but it’s still me. It’s different things I see. Different aspects of my life. And sometimes I like arguing the points I haven’t resolved myself, nor know if they are resolvable. By the end of the day we know very little. Life evolves and we with it. Today is not tomorrow, nor yesterday. Yet, I still believe we can learn from the stories of others.

Sometimes we find ourselves in stories too. Like I’ve said in previous blogs, artists connect us through their art. For a moment in a note, in a lyric, in a painting, in a choreography we find ourselves. A part of our world. And we feel connected to the artist. At the same time, we created our own story around the story. We connected with what we felt; not necessarily with what they meant.

And there he was this young boy…he was strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words… – The Fugees (One of my favorite lines of all time because it describes that moment of connection perfectly; in love and in art.)

The media writes stories all the time. It comes up with opinions of its own. I once read that because Oscar Pretorious once lied and once ended up in a pub brawl (or similar) where he shouted “I’ll kill you,” he was a murderer. I’m wondering how many people have lied and at one point shouted “I’ll kill you” in a fit of anger? I presume there are quite a few murderers in our midst if this is what makes you a murderer.

It’s rare to read articles about what we can learn from so and so conflict and how we can best resolve it. Experts are wired to talk about it from a certain angle. I’ve rarely ever heard someone scream “Yes, let’s get some immigrants and involve them in a project in our country whilst the war is on so that we all come out richer because of it.” Not sure that’s possible, my point is mainly that people tend to view situations from a certain angle (it’s a “crisis” not an “opportunity”) and therefore go about creating results based on their assumptions.

Collaborations across man made borders is a beautiful thing. It’s also rare. Because there are borders of beliefs. Of assumptions. Of trains of thought, religion and politics. But it’s possible. And stories help it become possible as they share our humanity with the world. Romeo wasn’t all that different from Juliet after all. The Capulets and the Montagues.

Stories to me is about how we see life. I tend to see mine as a tale; one where I can add magic by changing my point of view. I’ve also been known to make decisions based on how well it will suit the plot of my life. Adventure normally comes before sanity. Sometimes that leads to plot twists. Yet, at other times I’m so dedicated to my dreams I forget to live entirely, I just work and lose the plot with it…

Stories to me are also my life in so many other ways. I write them for others. I write them for myself. I have a passion for sharing people’s stories. I want to create products that create stories for people; give them an opportunity to enjoy the magic of a moment that was crafted for them. The story was written for them and they get to experience it. All products, in essence, are stories waiting to happen.

I just took a break from a very busy day to write this as I felt the need to write for me, not clients…and because the threads of a poem started coming to me as I was walking around doing some things round the cottage and I felt like taking five to write it down. You’ll find it below. And I could tell you what each line means. I could tell you what made me laugh about it. I could. Or you could just write your own story around it. Mine is my secret. Written in plain sight.

Good Morning Lover

He blew by on the wind
Chili mingled with salt
Spices calmed by yoghurt
Mildness and sweetness
Yet that undertone of hot sauce and fruity notes
Playful adventure; hot desire
You meet, you greet, you feel
You learn to taste them
See them for who they truly are
Discover their scent, layer by layer, until only the base notes remain
Yet they wouldn’t be the base without the heart and the top notes
You fumble
Through the dust and the sweat; passion tangled in starched sheets
Midnight reveries
You search, yet you already know
You stand there half-drunk on possibility
Possibly scared of heartbreak
Like two souls semi-conscious at the dawn of eternity
As the sun cuts through the clouds

By Maria Montgomery


Tangled Up

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