Monday, December 29, 2014


In the blink of a tired eye our children have grown. Little heads coated in snowy white hair have turned into full blown cascading ruby red locks. Instead of being cocooned against your chest they seek the freedom of the fields and magical hiding places were they can be whoever they want. A fairy, an explorer, a mummy, a mystical creature dreamt up by their lucid minds.

As mothers we wish for for them to never grow up and to always be untouched by the whiplash of lifes hard hits. To not ever feel broken. At the same time we claw our hands into our frazzled hair and beg for long arduous days to be over. To not have to deal with another little person who will tear her own hair out if she doesn't get the purple cup. Who needs constant care and cleaning up after. Motherhood is quite tantric in a lot of ways. Full of dualities. We are essentially beings who are seeking answers and comfort, looking after beings who are also seeking answers and comfort. That in itself is something we must remind ourselves when we feel we are failing at this parenting gig. We are learning, always, about ourselves, the world and how to deal with all the experiences that flow into our life. We may be mothers, but we are also women, dreamers and souls wanting the fullest and most enriching lives possible. What a task this job is!

Lets try to savor the precious younger years of our children by taking an extra moment at night to nuzzle into their little heads as they fall asleep and inhale their sweet innocent aroma. Perhaps we could play one extra game of This Little Piggy and admire those teeney toes that once prodded you inside your tummy. We could spend one day a week where our phones are turned off and pack a bag with enough coffee and good food to keep us energized for a day of play outside. Include a rug and a good book for curling up under a tree when naps are needed. On the flipside, ensure you are getting that alone time with yourself. When I say alone time, I mean no one else around to talk to, not even your facebook friends. Settle into a little nook in a cafe and write out your anguish, read something that nourishes your soul and sip on a bottomless pot of deeply warming and nurturing tea.

Be good to you mama,
Astrid xx

Friday, December 26, 2014



Its a dream. This life. Its all a dream. I feel that more and more now. Sometimes I catch myself speaking and I don't even believe what I'm saying. I'm merely regurgitating someone elses opinion, or a value of societies or a fear of the cultural climate I was born into. I know when its truly me speaking. The authentic self as one might say. I know its me because I feel something stir inside of me and I can see more clearly. My mask as been stripped away for a moment and I am just me, connecting with you. The fogginess has gone and I feel the words I speak penetrate into the air around me and send ripples of wind to the person who needs that spoken word the most.

I strongly feel we should be questioning what we do, why we do it and what we say on a more regular basis. How often do we take the time to be still and just let precious truths rise to the surface like champagne bubbles, ready to intoxicate us with a much greater joy than the useless spilling of pretend opinions. We want to please, we want to be liked, we want to live up to expectations that come from someone elses need to control. I want to let you in on a little secret... you will never please everyone, you will not be liked by everyone and the only expectation you will ever meet is the law of this life and that is that sometimes it is wonderful and sometimes it is very difficult. Try to imagine everyone as big heavy dusty unfinished novels. Each one filled with chapters of heartbreak, dissapointments, euphoria, conditioning and experiences very different to yours. We judge others by only reading into the chapter they are showing. We forget there are so many words before that make up this being. So many words that perhaps we will never understand. It is not our job to. All we can do is be still and listen. It's all apart of the dream. We can only imagine and dream what treasures and poison this novel beholds by staring at its hard cover.

I, like you, get so caught up with the fucked up systems of this world and the lost who puppet us all into acting out their scene. They are some of the worlds most powerful yet to me the most dazed and confused. By speaking our truths we unearth our own artists easel and begin to paint a life that is bursting with our own unique strokes and colors. Then we step back and see that by listening to our inner voice a portrait of love, forgiveness and freedom has been created.

Channel your inner truth:

  • Pray. Pray for clarity and truth.
  • Practice active listening instead of reactive listening where you just want to say your piece without really absorbing what someone is saying.
  • Question everything you do in life from when you open those beautiful gifts called eyes till you close them at night. Are you living by default or with meaning?
  • Aknowledge your reality fully and honestly. This way we let go of assumptions and tone down any dramatic scenarios we make up in our mind.
  • Listen to your gut. Mama was spitting some truth when she told you this one. If you feel something on a deep level then that is your truth.
  • Reflect on your health. If you don't start voicing your truth or living it, your body will have a hard time keeping up with the lies. Lies are like poison to the body. 
  • Just be still. For one moment everyday, close your eyes and just allow the wisdom to float up. Don't be scared, love, you're merely a lotus in the muddy pond water awaiting to rise and show the full expression of your beauty. 

Astrid xx

Monday, December 8, 2014


Moving to Hollywood saw the same look of dismay on my face as a child who was prematurely told that Santa does not exist. The absence of princesses living happily ever after and people falling madly in love in cute little hipster outfits saw my romanticism of the place die in quite an instant. While there is beauty here it is snuggled up with a lot of litter, poverty, shit stained streets and souls grasping for the illusion of happiness from fame and fortune. Nevertheless, I love it. I don't want to leave this reckless town and its relentless heaving of noise and chaos. For all its filth, tacky glamour and prostitutes hollering on my 7am walk, there are the mountain walks, the many kindred spirits and so much for the senses to explore. The ability to escape and replenish the soul is as easy as heading up Western ave, taking a right onto Los Feliz Boulevard and a left onto Fern Dell drive to find yourself in a woodland paradise called Griffith Park. Deer and horses a plenty, cellphone reception and smog at a minimum. It's here I have spent many hours seated under tall trees gathering my thoughts into my minds basket, ready to sort out the weeds from the blossoms. I love watching the trees in autumn in this town. The branches bare and bent resemble a kind old lady's arthritic fingers pointing out to a distant memory. Chlorophyll drained leaves are plucked by the fall breeze and swirl down creating a fiery red and brown rug for its forest floor. These old woody giants stand tall and admire the seasonal loss. They do not wither or complain about the changes that occur but instead seem to look upon their letting go with admiration and go as far as to create beauty with their shedding. I always look to the trees when needing inspiration to keep going, to keep changing without resilience.

Los Angeles could beat you down. It could strip you bare with its capitalist teeth, exposing your naked bones which are splintered with insecurities, worthlessness and doubt. Or perhaps you could be like the trees. Feeling the weave of the winter blanket being stitched across your vulnerabilities and creating a hardy new skin on those exposed limbs. Swaying with the changes but always rooting down to seek life force and sustenance from the earth. Staying grounded in the storm. I think that's what has got me through this upheaval of moving from one country to another. I have not resisted or challenged the change unfolding in front of me. I have seen the lessons and beauty in the transitional times, and midwifed that inner child into the birth of a new chapter of her life when she has wanted to run away scared into her safe yet stagnant past.

I bid you to make like a 1960's Californian hippy and start hugging some trees when your soul is feeling tethered. The great thing about this place is you have to be really crazy to look crazy so be a free spirit! Learn from nature that speaks in tongues of beauty and time because they have and will continue to outlast us through their effortless meetings with change. 

Astrid x

Monday, December 1, 2014


Words are powerful. What I may say and mean more often than not will not mean the same to you. A word I love may evoke feelings of despair or a memory you had chosen to put away in a little box, locked.  A simple word can trigger many different thoughts, feelings and memories. Like a word as simple as warmth.

Warmth is a word that has been on my mind a lot lately. As I lay here nestled in next to my baby I feel nothing but warmth. Inside and out. His milky breath warms me. His little body all wrapped up in soft cottons warms me. His presence of expansiveness and unconditional  love, warms me. 

In these cold, darker, wintery days warmth is something we seek. 

Warm fabrics and skin on skin contact

We find it under feather filled covers of the bed warming up little feet and toes with our hands.

We find it when we walk in the door with cold noses only to be kissed hello with warm lips.

We find it on the palms of our hands glowing orange as they face the crackling fire.

A warming cuppa

We find it in a hot ginger tea, the spices creating a slow burning fire in our bellies. 

Winter is a time for connection and reflection. Use this season to hunker down with the ones you love. Edge a little closer to that special someone sitting next to you, take their warmth, give them warmth. Rest in the fact that you feel introverted at this time. Tis' the season to be inside and to delve deep into oneself. 

Mamas hand, warm and protective

It is a basic human need to be warm. Give the gift of warmth to your children or a loved one or a stranger for that matter, in the form of a hot chicken soup, a pair of woolly gloves or a heartfelt I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love Astrid x