Like the old man I am, I finally figured out how to internet in-flight and this song is stuck in my head:
🎶They will see us waving from such great heights
🎶Come down now they'll say
🎶But everything looks perfect from far away
🎶Come down now but we'll stay
Anna got a little going away present for me at the thrift store and surprised me with it this morning. "Hey, look, it's you!" she laughed as she plopped it down on the table and poured me some kind of "detox" tea. I can't believe she found one of these here. Hej, Mumrik. 💙
There's some new rambling message over on my webpage and I've cleaned up some of the mess I made while I was being decidedly juvenile in a tailspin.
https://t.co/mUIA6VEFYm
A new (unofficial official) chapter in Under the Surface history has been unleashed on the public, written by AxelBot 1.0 with help from @nekirmum and myself: https://t.co/i9mPKyezH2
I think you will find it is very special.
To 'practice gratitude' as she calls it. It's hard to be grateful for a world of hurt but I'm going to try.
She says, "In Kåre speak: if you don't reprogram yourself you're going to end up in an endless loop. Do you want that?" Truth is, I don't.
Went on a walk to clear my head under clear skies. I told Kåre I refuse to do another one of those but Anna suggests that another good exercise might be revisiting the Google Earth and rewriting history in a more positive light.
It's been ten years today since my Micke passed away. Some days I think fondly of him with ease, others I let the riptide carry me out to sea and I sink into sorrow. Today is one of those days. But I've learned to tolerate the yearly grief tsunami. I always resurface eventually.
When it rains in L.A., it's an event and when there's thunder and lightning? Insanity. Angelenos completely forget how to drive each time it happens. The rain makes me think of home. The sound it makes on the roof, how I love waking to it and languishing in bed, just listening.