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Dec 10, 2012



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Posted: Dec 10, 2012 8:01pm
Nov 8, 2012

What if you could be artistic and tuned into the universe, operating as a channel for limitless creativity, absolute freedom and power? Congratulations! You are now officially artistic. We are born creative and it takes very little to reassess that natural state. To make art, all you need to do is to grab a brush and go – really.

Artistic freedom is equally important as the freedom of speech. It is the freedom to just be, to revel in the endless possibilities of the moment. Spirituality and creativity is the same thing. The creative flow is your spirit and when you create, your spirit works through you. The creative process enhances, strengthens and celebrates your true essence. This does not mean that everyone should have a creative profession. It means that you, I and everyone else needs to make time and space for weekly creativity in order to feel really good about ourselves and to remember who we are.

Everyone secretly wants to be an artist or a writer. It looks like magic from the outside, watching an artist confidently move a pencil over the paper, rapidly and consistently rendering the image until there is a sudden stop; the artist steps back and observes the image in deep contemplation before getting back to work with a smile on the face, as if a quiet whisper had delivered a secret to the ear of the sensitive artist. Or look at how the poet is caressing existence with words. That quiet whisper comes from inside, it is a feeling, an idea and a complex calculation. But it doesn’t need to be a calculation to be valid, it is ok to have no idea of what is going on, it is ok to be clueless and lost, it is ok to dip a brush in purple or red and just splash the brush on a canvas, just for fun. Is that art? It is the beginning of art and it can go beyond your imagination, but you need to start somewhere. Loosen up and have fun. Just remember to leave self-importance behind.

Fear of failure is stopping many people from expressing themselves creatively. The good news is that nobody can fail. It is not a competition. There is no goal to reach – all that matters is the action. The action is what is going to nurture your spirit and strengthen your connection to the magnificent you. The feedback from the outer world; praise, sales and a tap on the shoulder, feeds the ego – that is different. Your spirit does not need to prove its talents to the world; it is needless and rejoices in spontaneous expression.

Many artists create extraordinary and unique works, because they are comfortable with their creativity and they trust their hunches. It can be difficult to be self-confident as a beginner, which is why I recommend you to start with loose, abstract, improvised painting. Let yourself go. Be needless of positive feedback from others and allow your spirit to be the source of your strength. Enjoy the feeling of playing with color, shape and line and be brave enough to enjoy the result as well, as it is one step towards your freedom as an independent and powerful creator.

 

Elinrós Henriksdotter
www.Henriksdotter.eu 

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Posted: Nov 8, 2012 12:58pm
Nov 1, 2012

 

He was that kind of dad who would read bedtime stories in the hammock as the sun was setting behind the trees, and then abuse me in the bathroom, in the bedroom and in my grandparent’s bathroom. This happened a long time ago, but it took me twenty years to revive those memories; until then the source of my pain, my shame, my guilt, my depression, my fears and my self-hatred was a mystery. Nothing had happened as far as I could remember. I kept it all to myself and forced the darkness outside of the boarders of my consciousness.

After years of depression, anorexia, bulimia, aggression, drinking, mania, drugs, suppressed femininity, anxiety, restlessness, hopelessness and panic attacks, I finally hit the bottom at the age of 25. On a quest to find out what was wrong with me, I reached my subconscious through meditation, self-induced trance and improvised painting. When the memories came back to me, pain shot through me like eons of rows of knives penetrating every inch of my body; mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Through daily meditation and painting, my inner voice guided me through a deep and challenging journey to my subconscious where I faced what was holding me back, tying me down and polluting my mind with fear. The sessions began in a safe and comfortable angelic realm, where everything is pure energy. Embraced by love I had the strength to enter the dark corners and take care of my demons one by one. They came out of me, and they were the part of me who had grown powerful over the years as I let their voices dictate my life. Once I had taken the demons to my heart by listening carefully to their stories and accepting them for what they were, I connected to the five-six year old me, who some days refused to come out of the attic, where she hid from the light of day covered in dust and dirt. The little girl gradually gained confidence in me and showed me around the house, allowing me to witness how her father systematically broke her down.

My parents were separated and I used to lay awake at night at my mother’s house, disturbed by my feelings, looking for a way out of hell. I prayed to God with tears running down my face, and sometimes my mother would come in and ask me what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her the truth. Then came the day when I decided to never go back to my father's house without giving my mother and stepfather the real reason why. As we rapidly grew apart from each other and it became increasingly difficult for me to deal with my suppressed emotions, I wondered when they would give up on me. When I turned 15 they moved to Africa and left me behind.

When we enter our darkness and explore with fearless determination, we illuminate. This book is about how I faced my demons through painting and meditation, guided by spirits and angels, and about how I ultimately forgave my parents from the bottom of my heart. All women can come out on the other side, radiating and free, and become the queen of their universe.

 

I am watching you bouncing a ball against the brick wall of your home. The window to your room is open, allowing you to blast your favourite pop tunes over the sunny backyard. You are singing along to the tunes. Do you only sing when nobody can hear you? That would be a waste of such a talent. I counted the bounces to three hundred until I lost count.  It is sad to watch you play by your own and I know that you would never have it any other way. Your little heart is too heavy for human interaction. It is too heavy for shared joy, because the mud inside is choking your laughter. You are sure that everyone can see your pain and therefore you are a burden to the world. People tell you to smile, they tell you to be normal and they tell you to hang out with the other kids. The problem is that everything you do, you question. Everything you feel, you question. They are after you in school now; the guys drive you crazy and you chase them and you spit after them and you hate being alive, except for now, alone with the ball, the music and the wall. That hole you dug inside of you to hide the truth is going to swallow your days just like a black hole swallows existence. With your will power and determination you have created an oblivion-devise that will keep your secret safe for two decades. I want to take you into my arms and tell you exactly what happened. I want to wake you up, because life doesn't have to be a bad dream. If you only knew about your powers to build and heal by speaking your truth. It is you who are building the walls. All I can do now amidst the red ruins of scattered bricks, blood and squashed strawberries is to remember you and love you in eternity. I will tell the world about you and they will admire you for your strength.

 

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Posted: Nov 1, 2012 7:07pm
Oct 20, 2012

Internal Fragrance

Following the floral trace

She is faceless

Remembering one thing

With no beginning

One thing only

One song

That broke her heart

And killed her when she

Hid, Forgot

To sing louder and clearer

To deaf ears

In dead gardens

To ask for nothing

But a voice

Her voice

 

We know her by the embrace     

Within the limits

Of her scent

The scent of her song

The beat of her joy

Observed from above

The fragrance flows upwards

Through her

 

 

 

She sings louder and clearer

To deaf ears

In dead gardens

Softer and sweeter

To crooked minds

And black hearts

Following the floral trace

All the way

Home

 

 

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Posted: Oct 20, 2012 3:52pm
Oct 10, 2012

Her Colorful Landscapes

 

Truly meet her

To reflect the golden stream

Sense the colorful landscapes

They are who she is

She caresses herself as the wind

From the west to the north and small rain drops land

On autumn leaves and bare skin

 

 

Queen of Liberty dies and wakes up new

With senses heightened

Soft and complete

 

 

Whisper love

In a foreign tongue

As new life unfolds

And small rain drops land

Pleasure will silence all sound

And reality implode

To recreate itself more creatively

While you are busy

Becoming one

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Posted: Oct 10, 2012 2:37am
Oct 10, 2012

Her Colorful Landscapes

 by Elinros Henriksdotter


Truly meet her

To reflect the golden stream

Sense the colorful landscapes

They are who she is

She caresses herself as the wind

From the west to the north and small rain drops land

On autumn leaves and bare skin

 

 

Queen of Liberty dies and wakes up new

With senses heightened

Soft and complete

 

 

Whisper love

In a foreign tongue

As new life unfolds

And small rain drops land

Pleasure will silence all sound

And reality implode

To recreate itself more creatively

While you are busy

Becoming one


Illustration by Elinros Henriksdotter, painting 'Hello Halo' for sale on website.
For more art, writing and music please visit www.henriksdotter.eu 

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Posted: Oct 10, 2012 2:20am

 

 
 
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Elinros Henriksdotter
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Jinja, Uganda
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