A Pile of Straws, A Search for Light

I have seen the depth, and I have felt its cold, clammy grasp—the pulling force that keeps me down. Words are a straw amongst many, a way to find my path up. I can see the light, but not the way forward. It feels like I have tried every option, but deep down here, with me, lie all the broken ones. Yet, I know there must be a path I haven't tried. I might have started it once, gotten distracted, run out of steam, or simply stopped in fear—looking into the shadows, picturing what I cannot see.

To pick a path already tried feels heavier than trying something new. Or maybe, the answer is to try something I always thought I couldn’t do.

I am writing from a place very similar to this, in the realm of metaphors. Sitting in my parents' greenhouse in Norway, thinking about my life in Australia. This foreign country is where my pile of straws is gathered. This is where my kids are living, and where my unfound path is leading.

The fresh autumn air is cooling, and the bright colors from summer are fading, one petal at a time. It showcases the seasons that I love so much—the changing rhythm that exists in different forms around the world, just as my inner world is evolving. It is not structured; it is more like a forest path, leading through the wilderness, brought into existence only by the people walking it.

I will try to share this journey with you. I want to take you with me as I pick up an old, crooked straw, or find a completely new one. I have tried many things, and on the way, I have encountered mental health challenges, grief, reflection, the human condition, and abuse—to name just a few. Writing is the one thing I never thought I could do.

Join me on this journey by reading my stories, sharing your straws, or helping me along with encouragement.  Making me feel seen. A smile can change a person's life. By giving it freely, you are rewarded double. One given. One received.