Fear of betraying who we used to be.

This originally debuted at the wonderful Roots of She I didn’t plan on bookending my debut and goodbye posts for Roots of She with Norwegian poetry but it seems to be what I find when I peel back the layers and move closer to the core. I’ve looked at the world through this poem with the words out of focus but more as a lens. So many of you wrote that you loved to see the Norwegian in the last poem (one I penned on my own) so I’ll leave it here in Olav Hauge’s original form. The translation is below.

Eg er ein båt utan vind. Du var vinden. Var det den leidi eg skulde? Kven spør etter leidi når ein har slik vind!
I am a boat without wind. You were the wind. Was that the direction I wanted? Who asks about direction when one has such wind!

. In not too long I’ll be again, looking through these words. The echo of the wind is a memory. My hair, once raptured and wild in its gusts now still in the calm. Do we slip away or go out with a storm? Either way, the sail is at ease.

It can be hard to let go. We hold out for the wind to pick up but also wonder if we want to set a new course. I never needed the wind but it did take me. I enjoyed the ride and discovered that it was the wind that needed me. And still does. A sail gives shape to the wind, defines the wild and gives it purpose. Like a long pause, expecting and waiting for music to begin again we suspect the wind has changed, died or blows in a new direction.

In waiting the boat drifts, with thoughts of new directions, new energies, and new possibilities. What is our obligation to the wind? What is our obligation to our own wild self?

Not following our hearts often comes from a fear of betraying who we used to be, at the cost of who we are now.

So we drift, suspended in time as it marches by. We surrender ownership of our days to a passive hope. Sometimes we drift into a current and find ourselves in a new place, sometimes into a maelstrom, finding ourselves being pulled further down. But the drift is a surrender, for better or worse.

Do we wait until the wind might move us again? It’s through the poem I will look and see if what is written in the stars mirrors my heart. The stars are beautiful and bright but like the Northern Lights, my heart wants to dance across the sky. And I’m ready to move again.

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