Now I listen to the rain

Before you continue reading this blog, please watch this video 

so you can better understand my situation. 

Yes, its true.  I have been faced with the same hard situation of listening to a real cowboy/girl talk.  Knowing that the language spoken must be english, yet I do not understand what is said.

The first time the western accent caused me some trouble, was when I first got here.  We had only stayed in our new home for about a week.  Then I started noticing that the air conditioner didn't seem to be working properly.  Either that or what worried me more, I just was not adjusting to the desert heat.
So, by recommendation we called the big bug Ivan Lee, which came over directly.  Ivan Lee (probably in his eighties) is a cowboy through and through.  Wearing a cowboy hat, jeans, patched and re-patched shirt and some pretty fancy cowboy boots.  He is kinda like the towns very own maintenance man.  Knows how to fix everything and has a few acres of parts for any kind of fixing up.  And Ivan Lee has the thickest accent I have heard so far.  He came and went a few times that day, to fix my air conditioner.  Pointing and waving his hat.  But by hook or crook, I could not understand a word he said.  Telling me something very important for sure.  Probably something about the dial in the house because he kept putting his hand on it while talking.  He also explained to me how an air conditioner works after taking off the covers of it.  Or he was praying.  Either way, the air conditioner works perfectly.  Haven't had any trouble with it.  Ivan Lee knows his stuff.

And so it is, that I often have to give my full attention to the person speaking.  I can honestly say that learning to listen again has been one of the lessons I did not expect to learn on this adventure.  The most recent and foreign sound that I have heard, was on a Saturday, Founders day celebration and between 5 and 6 am, someone was shooting a canon (I think).  Not once, or twice! But about 20 times.  If I closed my eyes I could imagine myself as a character in Mary Poppins.  First silence, then the loud startling sound of a canon shot and then the mad dogs barking.

Here I have learned the joy of listening to the rain after such a long time of draught.  I miss the sounds of water in all its variety.  Or hearing the owl in my back yard. Imagining what it looks like since I still have not found its hiding place.  I also listen to the train.  It's now become this humming steady sound.  I hear insects that freak me out and country music that makes me happy, sad or in love.

And now, reflecting on all these new sounds, I have this deep desire (combined with a little regret for not listening more carefully in the past) to listen ... really listen to my kids.  How much I have probably missed!  When they were younger, they kinda did sound like a mumbling cowboy.  Always telling me of their great adventures or deep thoughts.  Didn't always understand them then.  But it became easier and easier.  Somehow parents gain this skill to be the only people on the face of the earth to understand what their toddler just said.
Now my kids have grown and I consider myself richly blessed with teenagers that still talk to me (a little more clearer now).  They tell me everything from their deepest secrets or regrets to their true love.  I hope they know how grateful I am for that.  As long as they keep talking I will do my best to listen...really listen.

Today I am living in the past!

I came here to the USA to start anew.  I expected my new experiences to be fresh and exciting.  They just had to be.  Because I knew I would leave behind the life I had worked so hard at building, leave the country I was proud to call home and leave the ones I love so deeply.

At first I felt a whole lot of excitement mixed with fear.  I was ready for a new chapter, a new beginning.  Now, six months later - the fear is settling with every new day and every gracious victory. And I am totally fine with that.  One can not live in fear for very long.  Somehow you adjust.

But what disturbs me, is the "looking back" is overtaking the excitement.  I long for what once was.  I miss, regret and cry sometimes too.  It slows me down and distracts me from Now.  How can I not look back?  What has been, is what I am now.  

So it was, during a moment of reminiscing that I started feeling guilty.  Here I am, living a dream, learning, experiencing and ... living in the past!  What a waste of time.   And then it came to me:  Let go of shame, not the past.  The past is no worse than today or tomorrow.  The past is only destructive if you add feelings like shame, longing, regret and un-forgiveness.

So, I started the list:  

Excuses for "living in the past" - guilt free!

Do some genealogy

Celebrate a birthday, anniversary etc.

Applaud milestones made and goals reached 

Write a letter to a long lost friend

Marvel at all that you have learned and share it with someone

Learn about your country's history (or the country you happen to live in at this exact moment)

Page through pictures and scrapbooks (it might just make you smile)

Browse through an antique store or do a furniture makeover

Listen to and/or record family stories told by one of your loved ones

Take pictures of rundown buildings, cars etc.  

Remember the good times

Forgive 

Forgive yourself

"I plead with you not to dwell on days now gone nor to yearn vainly for yesterdays, however good those yesterdays may have been.  The past is to be learned from but not lived in.  We look back to claim the embers form glowing experiences but not the ashes.  And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future."  Elder Holland

A hick Christmas

If ifs and buts were candied nuts oh what a Christmas it would be!

I took a little drive around our small town to see all the different Christmas lights.  Not precisely what I am used to seeing at Christmas time.  I have never seen these blown up Christmas figures before and here you can find a lot of them.  Interesting decorations that made me think that you should never let anyone cramp your style.  Do what you have to - to feel like you want to.  Any time of the year.  And if you are one of those that is having a hard time accepting that - drive by and wave!

Settling in at the County Fair

The County Fair showed up in our neighboring town this fall. I was so excited to experience this annual event and so was everyone else in my little town. Leading up to the event the country folk explained to me what to expect - farm animals of all sorts, greasy food at every stand, quilts, rides and rodeo, all mixed together for our entertainment. I decided I wanted to try savoring a Navajo taco (a deep fried bread topped with beans, beef or chicken; and lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream and salsa) while cheering on some random rednecks at a demolition derby (that is a separate blog in and of it's self).

The day we went, my girls and I had a blast. The girls running from one line to the other. Getting in as many rides as their little tummies could handle. I took the time to stop and look around. What a comprehensive sight! Lights everywhere, bright colors, loud country music and then the smell!! Crisp desert air blended with the smell of food and animals. A thought kept coming to my mind: "How can these County Fair workers do this? Set up everything for a week of fun, games and food, just to have to take it all down. Pack it up and head to the next place. Moving from one place to the other, over and over again. Where do they live? What do they call home? Is a trailer next to the cows all it takes to feel settled? Or maybe just a mattress on the back of the truck so you can make it quickly to the next rodeo event? " I wondered if such a lifestyle was tiring or thrilling. Draining or adventurous? Maybe some people don't need one place to call home. If what we are looking for can't be found where we are at, then move on! Have these people found what they are looking for or are they just not looking for anything? Restlessness caused by our complicity can, I guess, be just as unsettling as moving around constantly. And vise versa, the freedom of moving around can give you a sense of resolve and contentment. You learn how to live in the moment.

Elder Holland said it beautifully: "The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future."

What I learned that very windy afternoon, walking through the County Fair -

Become restlessly content, let go, move on and most of all - Enjoy the ride!

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Don´t squat with your spurs on

If I would ask you the question: "Where should I go to see a real cowboy?" What would be your answer? ... Well I found real cowboys and girls at the Rodeo.  Big belt buckled cowboys. Hats and all. It was cowboy paradise!  I just couldn't grasp all of that wild west seeping through every sense.
So if you don't know what a Rodeo is, let me explain to the best of my Scandinavian ability.  A Rodeo is a sports event where you compete on horse or bull in different categories while being timed. To name a few: Laddies Barrel Racing, Steer Wrestling, Breakaway and Tie-Down Roping (Roping a calf made my youngest pretty sad) and then of course Saddle Bronc Riding and our favorite - Bull riding. I know you didn't come here to read a detailed explanation of a Rodeo, so I guess you could just Google it to know more. And yes, that is all I know about the Rodeo.

Bull riding was to me the most exciting event of the evening.  It's thrilling to watch a very breakable human being on a seemingly wild animal.  The rider takes his time to get situated on the bull and makes sure his grip on the rope around the bulls neck is tighter than bark on a tree.  Then the gate opens and off he goes. Holding on for dear life as the timer ticks.  I have gone through this in my mind a few times and I can still not figure out how the rider gets off the bull any other way than letting go either because the bull won or by the riders choice.  And when that happens... he flies to the ground, lying there, right next to a mad bull. And get this!  That is when the wild west sends out the Rodeo clown to distract the bull so the rider can run for dear life.  I guess the bull gets the saying: "Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or a fool from any direction." 

The Bull riding event left an impression on me.  You know those lessons in life that you have to learn the hard way?  Life does that to me a lot.  When going through tough times, hard lessons or rough roads, make sure you hold on, ride it out. And when your storm is over... make sure you run faster than molasses on a cold day.

Spoiled with newness

Yes, yes! I will be the first to admit it, I love to be spoiled. Always have and alway will. Whether it is spoiled with happy moments, spoiled with helping hands, spoiled with romance, spoiled with gifts or spoiled with love.  I love it all.

And now I am experiencing being spoiled with newness.  Everyone should have the chance to be spoiled with newness often in their life. It's amazing.  Every day seems to greet me with open spoiling arms.  For someone that is not accustomed to a desert thunderstorm, hearing crickets in the night or having a massive 18 wheeler pass you on the freeway (or drive on a freeway for that matter), just about everything thrills me. I keep thinking to myself : "I don't ever want this newness to end. I don't want the complacent, same old, same old every day life." Nobody in their right mind would want that. Right?

Once it was the sound of the wind that woke me up in the morning, now it is the sound of horses. I used to take sunday walks through lava and moss. Now it is through sand and sagebrush.   I don't know what homecoming is, or a crockpot. And when I smell a skunk, I'm sure it will awaken my senses with the same thrill as smelling gas in my kitchen for the first time. Yes, I did freak out at first, but then my brain wrapped itself around the newness and that thrill I talked about, sept over me.

Somehow it makes me feel alive.  Awake! I didn't think I was that kind of person that would venture outside my comfort zone and enjoy it so much.

It was at church last Sunday that I caught myself thinking "Hey, someone is sitting on our bench." Then it hit me! I'm settling in. Getting comfortable and complacent.  It's too soon. I'm not ready for that. Next Sunday - new bench.

Lee Ann Womack - I hope you dance -

Soul therapy: To weed or not to weed

I had signed up to visit Mrs. P and help her with her physical therapy yesterday. Another Saturday morning were I was up and running by 8 am, just like them country folk.  I did not know Mrs. P at all. Never met her and didn't even know were she lived.  But it became one of those services where you come home feeling like: "who helped who here?" What a great lady.  I went home feeling like she gave me some soul therapy.

During my visit with her she informed me, in a very polite manner, that it would be wise to weed my garden.  Yes surrey!  A stranger from the west, told me to weed my garden.

We had been talking about how much I missed the green colors of Iceland.  I told her that my landlord here in AZ had sent someone over to weed my front yard and now there is nothing there except brown, fine sand.  I also told her that now every time the wind blows,  I'm afraid my front yard will end up in my living room.  I missed my weeds.

I asked her if it wouldn't be better to leave the weeds.  At least that gives a little color and keeps the sand in its place.  But no!  She had news for me.  The weeds ( and I still have a lot of them in my back yard) are "pretty", but they leave these little nasty stickers.  They stick to your clothes, carpet, furniture and hurt quiet a bit. This I did not know ( just like so many other things here in the wild west).
So I thought about how I have been sending my kids to school, through my back yard and through those nasty sticker weeds, at least twice a day.  Then I had one of those brief "bad mom" moments.

It also made me think of this summer and all my stuff I had to go through before I packed my life into boxes and store it for a year. So much junk and stuff.  Things I thought were necessary for my wellbeing and happiness. Things that I can not even recall now.  I have now lived almost two months in a foreign country and the only thing I brought with me is two suitcases per family member.  And thats fine. I feel like I have weeded my life. It's simple.

And on a even deeper note.  I wish I would have weeded my soul along time ago. There is so much stuff that I have carried with me for so long.  Not the "my parents should have raised me different" or "kids at school were so mean". No more like the garbage I bring to myself every single day. "You are not good enough", "you will never do this or that" or "forget that you will ever feel so good". Things like that.  Little sticker weeds that have bothered me for years and years.  Time to let go and let the sand blow and settle were it will.

So, a gentle reminder  - finish weeding my garden/life.  Thank you Mrs. P and I hope for more friends like her to tell me to weed my garden.

Just another day

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise" - Ben Franklin

Well, that would make me sickly, poor and stupid.

Let me tell you how Icelanders use their weekends.  And yes, I can pretty much declare that about 75% of the Icelandic population enjoy their weekends as follows:

• Sleep in till at least 9:30 am (never make a phone call to anybody before 10:00 am).  Most would love to sleep in till 11:00
• Linger around while eating toast and reading the newspaper (if just to see what sales or events to go to).
• Maybe do a chore or two.
• Make your way into town.  There you go to one of the sales/events you saw in the newspaper or just hang out at the Mall (Smáralind or Kringlan) or the flee market (Kolaportið).
• The day would then end with dinner at moms house or hanging in front of the TV.  If you are a little on the wild side you make sure to stay up way past midnight.

But here in Arizona, country folk start their weekends early, just like any other day.  

I was so not prepared our first Saturday here.  I had been told that there would be a yard sale in town that would also be a fundraiser.  I was excited to go. Yard sales are not to be found in Iceland.  That would definitely be something to check out. But little did I know that it meant I had to be up and running at 7:30 am. What? In Iceland I'm barely up at that time on a weekday. 

All good yard sale going folk show up early.  I'm not good yard sale going folk so I ended up showing up "late." Everyone in town was already there (kids and teenagers also) and all the good stuff was gone.  

How does the saying go again? "The early bird get the worm."  Well I guess me and my family have been living to long by the saying "The second mouse gets the cheese."  

Learning to wake up early has been a new years resolution of mine for many years.  I would say this is the time for change.  And my country friends and fellow town habitants are helping me out with that.

Today is just another Saturday and therefore I am up and running by 6:00 am.  How about that?

My daughter A has cheerleading practice at 7:00 am. My other daughter Y has a football game at 8:00 am and my 17 year old son D is still sleeping away all the good daylight like a true Icelander.

I hope to get more out of rising early than just being up before somebody knocks on my door.  

I hope to be able to:

• Be more prepared and ahead of the days chores. Surprisingly enough rushing and being late is more tiring than getting up at 6:00. 
• I would like to hear my thoughts and know my schedule.
• Get my yoga done before the day has past and energy levels are down.  I've notice that then I make up excuses more easily.
• Eat a healthy breakfast. 
• Get spiritually nourished.
• Enjoy a sunrise or two.

So while D is still sleeping my country friends have already milked their cows,

cooked a warm breakfast, 

fed the animals, mowed the lawn and 

even made a phone call or a visit to good neighbor. 

Don't let the sun catch you sleeping.

Hard work and play - are often the same thing

One of the first things I have learned here in Arizona, is that when country folk work they are actually playing and vice versa.  Yeah, so you are thinking: "Ok, cowboys love their work. I can see that. But, no! Playing can never be work".  Well, I beg to differ and say that it is true!

Let me give you just one example!

Yesterday a family invited us Icelanders for an afternoon at the "Cracks".

A crack in the middle of the road

A hidden gem of red and cream colored rocks in the middle of nowhere.  Really! Driving there the landscape looked flat and bare, with nothing but sagebrush.  It had been raining for two days, which is unusual for this area. Well, country folk don't let a little rain stop the fun. So off we went anyways.

We got there and it was just beautiful.

Northern Arizona

Us Icelanders had never been there before and therefore we tried to take in every scene, smell and feeling.  Not minding the light drizzle of rain (which we Icelanders are used to) we hiked around and admired the great landscape. 

We tried to light a fire to cook our foil dinners.  Which is something an Icelander has to learn to do 

(that is, light a fire and cook foil dinners).

But the fire did not stand the drizzle that had now turned into a down poor.  And neither did the rest of us.  Well to be honest, everyone seemed happy except the women that had to cook with no fire.  But the decision was made to head home and eat there.  So far this whole story sounds just like fun to you. Right?  Well it was on our way home that play and work intermingled.

For it was while we were on our way back home before dark, that one of the trucks got stuck in the dirt, that now had turned into this spectacular compound of mud. 

Heavy and thick, it devoured all four tires.

And so the work/play began.  I could see in the faces of my country friends a mixture of: excitement, worry and determination.  With one shovel, a flashlight (which I mastered quite well) and sagebrush, we (or they, to be honest, because I'm still learning) spent the next hour freeing the heavy truck.

Was it hard?  Yes!
 Was it cold?  Yes!
Did it fulfill our need for play? Oh, Yes!

When back home in dry pajamas, my thoughts kept wandering back to that eventful afternoon. I made up my mind that this would be my first blog.

Remember that work is not just necessary, but if you decide, it can also be fun.  Love your day filled with projects, assignments, duties or whatever you want to call it.  Love that you are capable. Love that feeling of accomplishment.  And last but not least - Love to play!