Norway has been a Christian kingdom since 1030, when king Olav, later to be called "The Holy", won a siege at the battle of Stiklestad near the city of Trondheim. The king fell in the battle between the Christ-Men, King's Men and the Farmer Army.
Through his death he turned hatred and hostility to peace.
The entire kingdom decided on a Thing, (democratic assembly from back to year 700), the Christianity should replace Odin, Thor and the rest of the old pagan belief. Now wonders kept to occur near the belated king, and a church was built in his memory. The first of many Saint Olav churches. The building started only four years after King Olav's death. King Olav was buried behind the high altar, later placed in a sacred shrine, and pilgrims from all over Europe came to taste the holy water of Saint Olav's spring water. Royal coronations were performed in the church till our days. Our king and queen were officially blessed for their duty in a ceremoniously in the Nidaros Cathedral.
The Catholic church named the cathedral "Cor Norvegia" , heart of Norway, since the relics of Saint Olav were placed there.
Also after the reformation in 1578 the church held its position of the foremost church in Norway.
To maintain and even extend and add ornaments on this old stone church, an entire workshop with crafted stonemasons, plasters, sculptures, archaeologists and conservators work all around the year to keep the church from deteriorating.
In the 1960-ies it so happened the sculpture of Archangel Michel lost its head.
Archangel Michael on the spire to the left of the front facade.
The sculptor followed an ancient tradition, to let a living person be a model for the replacement head.
This happened the early sixties with scaring murders of American presidents, Asian wars, social uprising in the ghettos, the cold war and above all the terror of a nuclear war, threatening to destroy the entire globe. The sculptor let the face of the spokesman for all our fear and despair be depicted in the face of the mightiest angel of all, Michael.
Such were the times, that it took 50 more years who was the model of archangel Michael.
Now even more pilgrims visit the dome to admire this mighty testimony.
Gunnar was there yesterday, and I said the only thing I really wanted as a souvenir was a postcard of archangel Michael/Bob Dylan.
"When He Returns"
The iron hand it ain't no match for the iron rod
The strongest wall will crumble and fall to a mighty God
For all those who have eyes and all those who have ears
It is only He who can reduce me to tears
Don't you cry and don't you die and don't you burn
Like a thief in the night, he'll replace wrong with right
When he returns.
Truth is an arrow and the gate is narrow that is passes through
He unreleased His power at an unknown hour that no one knew
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice ?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness ?
Can I cast it aside, all this loyalty and this pride ?
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease
Until He returns ?
Surrender your crown on this blood-stained ground, take off your mask
He sees your deeds, He knows your needs even before you ask
How long can you falsily and deny what is real ?
How long can you hate yourself for the weakness you conceal ?
Of every earthly plan that be known to man, He is unconcerned
He's got plans of his own to set up His throne
When He return.
Thursday, June 05, 2014
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Autumn has definitely arrived at my terrasse.
The last blossoms of the summer are fighting for their existence in yellow, orange and red.
This spring I spread nasturtium seeds in pots and pans wherever I saw brown soil. I fear that snails and caterpillars might eat the most, but oh joy, the power of the seed won the race.
My mother would always use the last summer months first removing the blossoms, they are edible, to lure the plants producing more flowers, and later collecting seeds for next year's flower feast. I feel so close to her, going through the same procedures.
Begonias are fighting for their lives. The first night frost will mean the end of them. I will as always bring them in security, in our basement, and try keeping them alive till next spring.
I have collected small seeds from the pansies since August. They have been a true blessing. Blooming since April.
My dahlias are the greatest challenge. They either dry or rot indoors. This time I have found a garden expert allied. By following her advices I once more will give them a chance. It's to sad just to let them die. They are grandmother flowers and so deserve to live. "The spring begins in the autumn", Karel Capek said. I'm so looking forwards to the fruits of my work. Have a wonderful Ruby Tuesday.
Photo and poem © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Monday, September 30, 2013
Two weeks ago we were rambling in the local district, turning our back from the sea to a fjord, woodland and inland.
The picturesque Monet bridge made us stop the car.
Time to return to old habits and joys. Like for instance blogging Ruby Tuesday 2.
The blond summer was busy, but now we're past Autumnal Equinox and it's time to slow down.
What a difference in the scenery just a few miles away.
We found the Norwegian edition of Monet's garden and deer preparing to leave the lowlands before the hunting season.A log cabin, smaller than any American shed, but a paradise to admire from the road to me.
A slow, but wonderful restful time of the year. I love being in it. Stretching out the joys of daylight as long as possible.
Shutting out the el.light in the morning. "Don't burn a hole in the day," my mother exhorted, long before Al Gore even thought of going green. In a short month the light will have diminished drastically. Carpe momentum is the slogan. Time is precious.
The deer are moving towards the mountains and the hunters are loading the firearms. We have too many deer for the time being, and even though they look breathtakingly elegant and lovely, they taste even better. I am so looking forwards to a tasty autumn meal.
Home is the sailor, home from the sea and the hunter is home from the ground...
Monday, April 29, 2013
King Winter has been extremely reluctant to leave the country.
April is soon over, and yet the grass is brown and the birches haven't sprung.
The sun is, however, with us longer day by day. We have about 15 hours of sun each day. Some amazing sun-downs and sunrises to enjoy in thick winter-clothing.
Morning sunrise in the east.
And sunset in the west.
I wouldn't change these magic hours for any Spanish beach.
This is where I belong.
This is where the sun also rises for me.
Welcome to play on with the members of Ruby Tuesday2
Monday, April 22, 2013
Gott, hilf mir; denn das Wasser geht mir bis an die Seele.
2 Ich versinke im tiefen Schlamm, da kein Grund ist; ich bin im tiefen Wasser, und die Flut will mich ersäufen.
3 Ich habe mich müde geschrieen, mein Hals ist heiser; das Gesicht vergeht mir, daß ich so lange muß harren auf meinen Gott.
King James Version (KJV)
69 Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.2 I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.
3 I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.
I wonder, were shipwrecked sailors resting underneath this special stone?
My friend Annie has a fine word for walking in grave yards. I hope she'll repeat it once more to me. I keep forgetting.
The text on this cast iron stone moved me deeply.
"Hereunder rests the dust of Madame so and so, widow after meerchant so and so.
She was born in 1778 on Hauske vicarage and died in Haugesund 1860.
She had no children of her own, but by her goodness she became mother to many who remember her with great thankfulness.
Among these were particularly two who she took in her care, and loved as if they were her own, and who always will keep her memory in loving recollection.
Peace be with thy dust.
Blessed by thy memory."
This happened at a time when Norway was among the poorest countries in Europe.I found it very moving.
A special neighbourhood to the old church. The red roofs are for Ruby Tuesday.
If one didn't have much land, but was in need of housing, one might build like this one century ago.
Gunnar overlooking one more graveyard.
Beautiful out take of a headstone.
Dandelion spring is finally here.
A stroll down to the sea, where children will be swimming in a month or two.
...And back again, where the train is waiting.
May your guardian angel follow you both this Monday, the Ruby Tuesday and evermore.