Life is the only thing you can rob from yourself.
– @PierreMinik (but most likely said before)
i know the way i hurt you but i can’t comprehend why i let me i’m afraid to know how you feel seeing me again so i dare not look back to see if you’re there i know it’s not for me to wish but i wish i’d see you smile so i’ll know you weren’t consumed by my doing and while i wish i wish i’d see you see me so i could let my silent remorse be said that i know i took it too far
Think quietly Dance patiently Look softly Build slowly Hug readily Ask Choose Care Rebel forbiddenly Love loudly Count the thoughts you don’t have @PierreMinik
Greenland’s National Day is the day of summer solstice, when our daylight is at its longest. The midnight sun barely hits the horisont before it turns upwards again.
This is a picture taken from my bedroom, a few hours after the sun kissed the horisont. It’ll be another month before we have nautical twilight.
The 4th of June there was a live online concert streamed simultaneously from Nuuk (Greenland), Reykjavík (Iceland) and Tórshavn (Faroe Islands).
The Remains of the Commonwealth is a musical abstraction of the Danish Commonwealth where the three members of the group are playing live from the three geographical locations of Nuuk, Greenland, Reykjavik, Iceland and Torshavn in the Faroe Islands. Live performance combined with streaming.Excerpt from the Livestream on Youtube
The performing artists were Miké Thomsen (GL), Jesper Pedersen (IS) and Heðin Ziska Davidsen (FO).
I assisted the streaming from Nuuk. Here’s some behind the scenes photos.
Here’s a short part of the performance. The rest of the performance can be viewed on Youtube.
The Rainbow flag proudly waving in the subtle breeze of a summer-ish day in Nuuk, Greenland.
8 years ago I celebrated my 29th birthday. This was an important mark for me for several reasons.
All throughout my late teenage and early twenties I didn’t expect to live to be more than 25. I had undiagnosed schizophrenia and was struggling with depression.
Mid-twenties it turned out, to my surprise, I would survive. I got my diagnosis and began crawling out from the pit I was in. But I still didn’t believe I’d live to be 30.
In the following years I realised I needed daily content in my life, something to do and something to wake up to. I moved home from abroad, got a job and went snowboarding again which was one of the few things I had longed for during my years of darkness.
The year I turned 29 I started my second entrepreneurial project and times got lighter and even exciting, not the least because I met the wonderful woman I fell head-over-heels in love with and today is my awesome girlfriend. It was the year I realised death was not a certainty for the following years.
Today, 8 years later my reality is completely different. From time-to-time my disease still demands much from me but I’ve become more comfortable with it.
However, I’ve recently had a frightening revelations but it haven’t been about an impending death; it’s about my impending life.
I’ve tried resisting growing up for as long as I recall and I’ve comfortably thought I wouldn’t amount to anything and wouldn’t have many opportunities coming my way. Suddenly my mortality has struck me. Somehow thinking I only had a few years left to live was much less overwhelming than realising I could still have much time to live but also that there’s actually a limit I’ll hit someday. Pondering about not being able to live forever, I feel an urge to figure out what I want to do within the time I have, and what I want to be, and what dent I want to put in the universe.
All this uncertainty, scarcity in knowing I’m mortal and the opportunities before me stirs an uneasy feeling in my chest. It’s adventurous and seductive and at the same time it’s scary.
For now, I’m just happy that I can celebrate my 29th+8 birthday. Happy Birthday to me.