A Norwegian Canadian. An Author. A Photographer. A Director. A Producer. A Literary Critic. A Mythologist. A Cosmologist. A Martial Artist. An Abolitionist. A Musician. A Lover of Science Fiction, Dark Chocolate & Red Wine. CEO of Vraeyda Media.

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“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them… And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” Genesis 1:27 & 31 (KJV)

I have been perpetually berated with the idea that human beings are bad, immoral nouns who steal, cheat and destroy. Humans are creatures created to be governed, ruled, dominated and taken down a peg or three because one day when we were formed by God, we ate from the wrong tree, learned things we shouldn’t have and became the bane of the earth. Better, saith the Religious, to remain in Edenic ignorance before God than to open one’s eyes and discover the ins and outs of why.

 All because impressionable Eve was taken in by the swindler Satan, who was a hissing, talking serpent, by the way. Yes, Earth’s First Woman was bamboozled by a snake chatting her up, wrapped around the branches of a tree telling her eating its fruit would give knowledge of good and evil. That in knowing where the line was drawn, it would make Eve and her husband gods. Eve fell for it, being incapable of scepticism in her idyllic ignorant setting, and duly tempted realized that nudity was embarrassing and God might be angry that they went against the one thing he told them not to do. Rebellious humans! Oh, Adam blames Eve for feeding him the fruit, you know. In the Renaissance they went so far as to say women were the font of all evil, and along with Lilith’s brood of murdering succubi, unrestrained legions of women would be the downfall of civilization, dignity, purity and decent living. When most women weren’t able to read, I can believe their ignorance and education-less emotionalism would be more of a threat! How odd then, that in the height of the English successes came Queen Elizabeth I and her merry gang of female compatriots who proved to not only acquire intelligence, but feminine attributes which made them paragons of their gender, and carriers of brighter futures and cleaner worlds!

By now someone is probably wondering what my feminist flutterings have to do with the Church. Religion has been the greatest propitiate of ideas since Adam and Eve got their leaves on. The majority of my issue with organized religion is based on its reliance on constructed social dependence. As a social construction, it is posited religion was a basis for maintaining the sacred norms of a society. How a society functioned was itself a function on the clergy’s ability to maintain morals, ethics and ideal philosophies. Cosmology became hypothesized evidence for a certain frame of mind, a method of proving divine philosophy & social order in the heavens. Mythology or religious writ was built upon a collective of unexplainable phenomenon and history, given credence by its propensity to survive and control the populace. Drifting from the consistent representation of the cosmos was heresy; grounds for being executed, expelled from the tribe or dealt with severely until one returned contrite and begging forgiveness from the fold.

Where would we as a North American and European society be if everyone followed the religious maxims of their days? Would the Earth revolve around the sun? Would it be flat or round? Had we always engaged in utmost belief, demons would cause disease instead of bacteria and viruses. The mentally ill would be possessed, extricated in fear not brought forward in a spirit of healing. Had we no rebels, we would have no proper world, nor scientific progress. Yet, the most auspicious rebels were the ones who did not deny relevant truths from whence they came. Reform seems to be far better than revolution.

Now, the globe has come into an era where geographically it is incredibly small. Where a collection of centuries ago crossing continents took years and many lives, today it can take less than four hours and a plane ride full of dehydrated air. The global village has become a melange of cultural sensibilities, yet our abilities to discern similarities in each other hasn’t quite caught up with the curve. We state especially in North America that we are a melting pot of tolerance, when as of yet we cannot see the views and discernments of others. We live awe struck by phantom terrorists, religious fundamentalists of whom we have nothing but fear, ignorance and an inability to quantify. How can we truly call upon the spirit of the living God when we cannot rectify the differences in ourselves? What right do we have to knock on heaven’s door asking for God’s goodwill and bounty? Where’s the grace gone?

If God is a universal phenomenon, then God came not to one people group but all. If God is a global entity then there must be (unobscured by natural differences of terrain and physical condition, and the differently nurtured histories) common threads of truth evident on a global scale. By fighting past the socially constructed pieces of the divine and the sacred, I believe we can dig amongst the tatters that remain for what is truly God. Truly Divine. Spiritual experience has multiple avenues and similarities. Ask yourself how many things in other religions legitimately battle against the words of Christ? In my experience, pastors and philosophers are more than willing to dialogue with you as long as they consider you pliant to their unique or mass produced system of belief. Have a discussion for discussion’s sake and it’s a waste of time, a method of the Evil One to take good Christians away from their moral duties to follow what their pastors say. Once they discover you are on the fringe and unapologetically searching, most wash their hands of you, or attempt constantly to save you with their narrow noose-like views on Father God and saving grace.

Why then did Thomas Merton engage with Far Eastern thought? Why did one of the most significant Christian philosophers of the twentieth century deem it an imperative to dialogue with other religious traditions? Thomas Merton influenced the Dalai Lama. Dialogue has become part of our world, why can’t it be a deeper part of our religion? What’s wrong with cherry picking truth? Most churches let women speak, and don’t require women to wear head coverings, as per the Bible’s instructions. So, in that sense, every church is cherry picking already. Is the issue one of selfishness? Is the issue based around cherry picking truth to make one’s own needs met and thus include building an entirely new social convention of one? If that is the case, denying the self to search for the truth seems the most appropriate cause of action.

Denial of self is a global concept. If there is no ego, how can the ego continue to consciously strip meanings like deer in winter stripping bark off trees? Perhaps the metaphysicians, the fringe believers, the mystics, oracle readers, the new agers have something to teach all of us about the sanctity of belief and the search for clear, concise, unencombering truth?

How can one search for the meta-divinity if one is still steeped weekly in one of the socially created systems which preserve a singular view of the sacred? It is only by being outside of a specific faith community that one may investigate clearly, just as with terrain one may find a trail by hacking and pioneering through bushes and gullies, but only removed from the immediate and at a different perspective can one find a clearer path toward the common destination. My goal is not to abandon the Church and Christendom, but midwife it through the dross of social convention into the true freedom of a world consumed with the love and mercy of the divine. It’s about God and about Grace. It’s about the truth that God made us good. God formed and breathed us into being, looked at what God made and said it was good. Good meaning intrinsically on the yes side of plus. I cannot live in a world where everyone in it is a demon waiting to claw at effigies of Christ. Sin came. We caused it, but deep inside our souls, inside ourselves is the prevailing concept that God wouldn’t have sent Jesus Christ for a bunch of devils in disguise. We are, beyond sin, beautiful beings of God. Images of God, and being not evil, God would not have created pure evil as it’s outside the Godhead.

Far from being a testament to universalism, my search is one of purity. Clarity.

I abhor hypocrisy. I abhor the use of religion for personal or social gain. Like many humans, I grimace instinctively at the many evils committed by religious organizations in the name of God the Father, the Virgin Mary and the holy Jihad. Yet, although I abhor the misuse of the Divine, my faith in the divine power guiding the universe has not lessened. I believe firmly that this cosmos is a created entity, ordered by God and loved by God. Be that as it may, as a self-proclaimed loather of hypocrisy, I am fully aware that returning to an organization I have noted problems accepting in totum is itself a form of hypocrisy. How can one who vocally condemns pieces of a community then return to that community as if the act of returning is a form of acceptance? One does not continue to attend political rallies for a political party one no longer votes for. Likewise, one does not continue attending a school one already replaced with another or quit all together. Returning to the Church before these issues are resolved is a form of vocal, physical and social acceptance of the deeds and policies of the Church.

This is something I cannot in conscience do.

As a woman and a historian I have not reached a point in my research and personal journey where I can forgive the Church and members who call themselves Christians, who have marginalized gender-groups, people-groups, committed crimes in holy names, and poisoned the lives of millions in a “noble” attempt to follow the false word of sacred script. The social convention to place man above woman in the church, home and outer world is one which although is written about many times in the Bible and other holy teachings, I find to be a convention not of divine providence, but of paternal machination. I believe these scriptures to be methods of chaining women to a traditional role in order to maintain a social order, not in order to maintain a spiritual maxim.

If God is genderless, then the historical basis for many misogynous teaching is moot. God is called the Father not because God is a male entity, but because in the social perception of the Biblical cultures, the male dominated society was easier to interpret and understand. Both male and female allegories are used in Scripture to express God. God is limitless, expansive, creative. God is both male and female, and we having been created and deemed good in the eyes of God should be considered as physical, spiritual and social equals. Even in today’s North American society, male/female relations are not yet at an equilibrium. Add in the ever growing debate on traditional gender roles and the sexual revolution, and the gender of God has become a powder keg connected to a MOAB beside an atom bomb.

Should I walk into the average traditional church and speak my intended views on scripture, faith, meditation and gender roles I would be considered a heretic and told to stay away from the children. I would be marginalized in an environment originally structured to be an all inclusive place of comfort and joy. Being raised in a home where Grandma’s form of religion was the only true form of religion (however narrow), my revulsion of traditionalism is clear.

There are still people in this world being marginalized, condemned, tortured, unfulfilled and killed for their views, differences of opinions or disobedience to a religious organization. This is unconscionable. Also unconscionable is modern day slavery, gender discrimination and traditionalist gender roles making it impossible in some areas of the world for women to have true equality and freedom. Until these issues too are resolved, how can I enter into a traditional female role? Even a traditional social role like monogamous marriage is being mistreated and lauded in its hypocrisies by many false prophets, false philosophies and false conventions. When little girls still wake up never knowing when their families will sell them as brides, when women enact constant demeaning labour simply because ‘she is a wife and this is what God said a wife must do’, when women are denied the right to personal safety, personal sexuality and personal choice of when and how to bear children, the world itself is off its kilter. This cannot be God’s will. How can one enter into a convention such as marriage with so many damaged women and damaged men remain in the wings, caused personal pain by the very convention which should be a sacred act of one-ness? One flesh? I do not deny the fact that there have been many excellent marriages in the world. I do not deny that the sanctity of marriage is a basic human right. What I refuse to accept is the misuse of such a holy function of human and sexual unity. Fully acknowledging that Christianity is by far not the only religion to have such issues, I close with this affirmation.

There is a divine guide in this world. This divine guide is a being of love, an entity who created the universe out of love, who is active in this universe. In our lives. Perhaps after a lifetime under the thumb of at times incredibly fundamentalist Christianity, I’ve rebelled by searching not for the pre-recorded voice, but the whisper after the thunderstorm. Until I find that whisper, no man made house, nor social practice, nor pre-ordained event will satisfy my yearning for the divine. For God, and God’s mercy, grace and abundant all encompassing love. Reform the Church. Open dialogue. Find similarities and do not condemn others for socially contrived causes. Reform the Church. Love God.

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I hit the road on my day off and ended up in the South Vancouver neighbourhood in which I grew up. My mother mentioned the house where we both grew up had been demolished and in a ferrying swell of nostalgia I deemed it safe to take the sight and lock it from iris to retina, down optic nerves to the memory of my brain. Locking a chapter of early life away.

I was fifteen when we left Vancouver for Langley and I cannot say I was happy with the change. Although I adored my new private school, as I grew from teen to twenty-something the lack of viable wild fun in Walnut Grove grated at my skin. I have been feeling lately like a lime being zested. Raw and spent, my vitality being given to employment which for many is uncannily close to life’s pursuit of unified happiness. I live, eat, shop (but for forays into Coquitlam Centre) and work in Langley. As much as Vancouver has undergone a natural progressive shift in the twelve years I’ve been out of residence, driving its streets was a lesson in the security of the past. In so much of the world roads stay the same for centuries. Buildings stood and continue to stand for hundreds of years, and in this microcosm of North America’s Westcoast, change is an electric charge claiming the areas I once knew. Polarizing them. Shifting the lay lines of Vancouver Specials and cottages with gardens to monster houses with coach homes out back, neighbourhoods becoming specialized like European villages which had been separated by a day’s walk. 

I love Vancouver. There’s a dispassionate ease to the streets and shops, which the people spark into whirlwinds and pillars of fire. Now I sit in a cafe sipping coffee and eating a vegan cookie watching the multicultural masses ebb and swell around me and I know despite the fear that my change will get eaten by the parking meter outside, I am home. I write and I breathe and I seep Vancouver in my veins. My only regret on this day of rejuvenation is the consuming loneliness of journeying alone. And the price of parking.

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The Blessed Season is upon us, whether Lutheran or Atheist, the Northern World needs the power of a celebration to keep the darkening nights at bay. Long strands of kaleidoscope baubles hang from houses and each one fills me with a different kind of cheer. A new spring comes to my swollen foot, a reminder of what in the martial arts world we like to call ‘good days of training’. My left arm has acted as shield and buckler in a combative exercise little more than controlled brawling. The ache in my bones fills me not with regret, but a potent happiness. My partner understood well the mystique behind battering each others’ shoulders and ribs, dekeing will come later, as will learning how to move just that bit faster than my opponent-partner.

God Bless Martial Arts.

A year ago life was dark, the downwards hill was all but insurmountable and my brakes had failed. Skidding forward, I felt no joy and had barely a glimmer of what would become the powerfulness of defeat.

Bruce Lee once called the Martial Arts a method of acquiring liberty, a discernment brought about by the mixture of battle (both artificial and real), and enduring art. Georges Saint Pierre seeks the Beautiful Victory, as we all in the arts know not all victories are beautiful, and not all beauty is safe. Since the wretched December last my body and mind are on the mend, I’ve failed in larger proportions than ever before and come out attempting at least to brush the cinders of my Power Suit and continue on in both business as in life. My arsenal grows, and on December 20th, I test for First Degree Black Belt Recommended. Strengthening my weak shoulder and gnarled near useless fingers are the great loves. The powerful affections, the security of knowing beyond all ills, evils and personal downfalls, I am intensely loved. Grief pours into my worthy throat alongside my gin and tonic as I finally allow myself to mourn the loss of the possible, the disappearance of my significant other. Is it time to let him go? One must wonder if one can have a relationship with someone who doesn’t bother to communicate at all.  

Yet what have I learned from him? I have learned that love extends past boundaries of time and presence, I have learned that standing rightly, highly is a transcendent act of will. I affirm my increase, the fears of my failures are falling away to dross. I am above all, loved. I learned despite my nature I am a woman who does openly have a beating heart in her once-mangled ribcage.

In this age of affirmations, I look to the Aquarian moon and succor my creative soul on the tide-like fact that now is the perfect moment. I am fulfilled, birthed in my creativity and continue onward with the support of my uncannily unconditionally loving family and friends. Knowing my Mother is a rare jewel, my brother a decent hearted paragon and despite her failing health, my Grandmother can look back on a life with pride, and that all of these do give me the toughest support and love. We will succeed in all we do, for this family is full of wildfire.

This is an age of beauty. Today in my white marble-walled haunt I enjoy the beauty of catharsis and the therapeutic wisdom of words. May the winter’s chill play the perfect juxtaposition to the warmth in your lives. We are more than conquerers. We are the new wave of an ocean which shall be forever coming onward. We are expansive and created by infinite love, infinite mercy, infinite grace.

Celebrating Victory: My Two First Place Medals!!

Celebrating Victory: My Two First Place Medals!!

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The more I live, the more I experience an ever abundant spirit of love. First felt in the constant presence of the Creator, it calmly disseminated into my family, friends, and working experiences. Parents at the Academy wish me well and assure me in darkest places. Students give me High Fives and happy thanksgivings, and my boss has taken to encouraging successes and chiding the doubts which had lingered in my pessimist’s mind.

Death to the pessimist mind. Even my mother and I are beginning to talk earnestly, slowly, testing waters neither of us have swam in much, if at all. My brother is becoming a vast friend, and my small cluster of friends are invaluable, unique in each way and distinctly wonderful. Despite the distance, I feel cared for, distinctly pulled into a dear affection by my English beau and our daily chats.

I am unequivocally blessed.

My right shoulder tingles as I listen to healing music and breathe deeply for some of the first seriously deep breaths in over a year. Another moment of healing and love in this amazing day. In this quiet moment I can again weep at the experience that though boughs break over my path, it is well with my soul.

Love is infinite and kind. It guides us to true points of reflection and sincerity. Love created the universe in fulness, an act of supreme affection and joy. Utter, compete, though-there-be-pain joy. What force greater than omni-encompassing love could have done it without splintering and wiping clean the slate? What guarantee do we have that love didnt? We have as a cosmos experienced our own Baby Cry resounding through the vibrational distinctions of love, endless, enduring, entropy-defying love. My heart swells, I feel connection, fear and security in my own reflection of the Sound. The only sound. The every sound. The sound of God declaring with a word there would be light.

One ineffable, increasing, unwavering word and we on its crest as we settle into our lives entrenched and enfolded in the word which begets all things. Love. Undeniable, unthinkable, immutable. Days recede to longer nights and yet the hope of yuletide lights, of days which bring closer a repast into more spheres come closer within the residing sound of the eternal wave of love.

Happy Thanksgiving.

My first online radio show, a discussion on The Hero Within by Carol S. Pearson, using the stages of the Quest as a guide for personal enlightenment & development. Discussion, the overview of the book, and an excellent mini-lecture.

Thanks to the Resistance for the opportunity to speak! What a blast, you guys are great. Wholeness!

inhabitat.com

Fabulous idea for the future of housing from my fellow Scandinavians.

What do you think is the future of housing?

Henna Rose  (Taken with Instagram)

Henna Rose (Taken with Instagram)

"Literature gives us an internal compass, a way to negotiate all life’s rough and tumble. It gives us insight, empathy, direction and warning. It is a concordance for the physical world, a magnificent prism through which reality is refracted. Much loved passages whisper in our ears. Long-dead authors hold us by the hand. Half-forgotten poems fill our mouths. Literature is present at the birth of our first child and the ordering of our morning coffee. It fills us."

Source: bookriot.com

Red Belt. #WTTU (Taken with Instagram)

Red Belt. #WTTU (Taken with Instagram)