Time to Say Good Bye

Wow, so stressed and still so sick, no voice. All the phone calls I wanted to make to family and friends....sorry I will have to call you when I am in Italy instead. I didn't get to meet everyone and say good bye, please know that my thoughts and love are with you. I will make it up when you come and visit us.

My Swedish friend Annika, held a surprise party (and baby shower) for me. It was so awesome, and I thank you for doing that. You are a great friend and I will sure miss you--I know Olivia will miss you terrible too. (Great picture Annika, I love your ceiling)

Got to go, and I don't know when I can use Internet again....but "I will be back!"

Crazy House

Still no voice, and my throat hurts like hell. The house has never been so quiet.
Five different appointments today, packing our suitecases, getting the dogs ready, mailing boxrs and cleaning the house. Anyone have a magic wand?
Gosh we are leaving tomorrow!

Notes from Bosnia

I had been in Sarajevo for some time, and my money was gone from helping dogs, or bribing people not to kill any more animals. The money started to thin out. It went to people who transported wounded dogs and to people with higher positions who would sign papers so we could work undisturbed for some time. My last “book money” from the first two books I wrote was spent, and now I was as poor as the other people. I had made a huge mistake. But I found it impossible to pass some of the poor children and not buy them bread in the bakery, or to take the dog with a slashed throat to the veterinarian.
Ignorance! I couldn’t do that. Life felt so unfair, and watching the most vulnerable souls suffering because of people’s stupidity and selfishness was heartbreaking. In fact, going back home to Western Europe was the hardest thing I have ever done. To see our independence and wealth and yet hearing people complain. The frustration started to grow inside of me.

In Sarajevo I got an invitation to visit children in kindergarten. What an incredible joy to meet these children with all their curiosity and willingness to learn. The teachers were so caring towards them and welcomed me with open arms. I was amazed.
Outside you could see the buildings pock-marked with holes from bullets and rockets. Most of the buildings were made of concrete and the color grey dominated. But when the teachers opened the doors to these buildings, I saw color and joy --- colorful paintings by the students. Most of the paintings were of animals, and below one of them I read, “Animals do have a soul.”
The children seemed so happy. And when I left, they gave me a bag full of animal paintings to bring home to Sweden.

Morning Joy

What a great start this morning-- after a short painful night..my throat hurts and to my families joy, I have lost my voice.
But I am curled up with a wonderful cup of coffee and (giggling) listening to Mark Levengood, summer talking on the Swedish radio.
The whole house is still sleeping. It is my time!

Nostalgia

Sitting in an empty house listening to the Swedish Radio P1 Summer talker. It is kind of amazing to be able to sit here on the other side of the world 07.41 am and Ulf Lundell is talking live over the Internet to me at 13.41. I am so happy I can follow my summer tradition!
Every day for 2 1/2 month at the same time a different "famous" person will talk and play their favorite records. I like the idea for "them" to be able to talk to us without the clutter from the media.

Our move is upon us-- to a new country-- a new chapter starts with good cheese and wine.

Numbers to Remember not Ignore

One in three (3) girls and one in six (6) boys will have sexual contact with an adult before turning eighteen.

According to a study by National Institute of Mental Health, the average molester of girls will have about fifty (50) victims before being caught and convicted. The average molester of boys will have an astonishing one hundred and fifty(150) victims before being caught and convicted.
All told, they may molest as many as three hundred (300) children throughout their “careers.”

Gavin de Becker

Glad Midsommar/ Happy Midsummer

Happy Midsummer!
One of Sweden's biggest holidays is today Friday, with good food, songs and dance. Flowers in the hair is a must. This is Olivia last year, my midsummer girl.

Notes from Bahrain, Middle East

At the base I met the dog handlers and LT Garrett Kasper, the Public Affairs officer. I happened to talk the most to Master-At-Arms First Class Petty Officer Barry Tremble, a warm-hearted and sympathetic man who really listened to his two work-dogs. Barry realised the importance of good communication with the dogs and had a hard time parting from them when it was time for him to be transferred to another base in another country.
I really admired Barry, because even though it hurt him to part from his dogs, he never closed his heart but kept it open for the next four-legged friend.

Army gets educated dogs from Germany and uses them for patrolling, mine searching and tracking. There are seventeen dogs at US Naval Support Activity Bahrain. Most of them are Labradors or German Shepards, all with different personalities. Barry and I crouched down in front of two dog cages. I pointed at one of the dogs and said: “He needs a lot of mental training and gets a real kick from working.” Barry nodded and told me that that was the case. I looked at the other dog, which was lying on the floor, looking back at us. “He needs a lot of emotional safety, less exercise and more feeling, he wants to join in and receive warmth.”

Barry told me that this dog hadn’t had anyone to take him on for some time; he had always had to wait. Other dog carriers didn’t think they got along with him and changed to another dog, but no one were mean to this dog. It was more a lack of communication.
The result; This dog felt abandoned and downhearted. Barry felt that and took him under his protection. He always brought the dog into his office and gave him as much emotional attention as he possibly could. When the dog had “a day off”, Barry brought him out to play catch with balls.

Barry is a man who speaks from both his heart and his mind. I hope that someday he will bring about his knowledge and compassion to other people. I also asked Barry if he believed that animals have a soul:
“Of course, from butterflies to the largest bird. But I call it spirit. If you remove a dog from it’s spirit, the dog dies spiritually, and only an empty shell remains”.

The hours passed quickly and I really enjoyed being with the dog handlers and their dogs. I felt the mutual respect and trust that made it possible to conduct a job well done together. For a while I lost myself in dreams and wished that I could add some of my knowledge to them and work with these equipages that I admired so. Maybe one day!

On the plane home my heart was filled with warmth over everything I had been allowed to see and experience, the colours, the scents, the tastes, the sounds. It felt as I had met life itself.

A part of me stayed behind in the heart of Bahrain.

Powrful and Hurtful Words

A woman called me and was very upset. She had had a person “talking” to her dog and according to this person the dog had “said” that he had brain cancer!
The owner cried on the phone and didn’t know what to do, should she put him to sleep?
Was he suffering? Was she such a bad owner?

Upset by her story, and it wasn’t the first time I had heard a story like this, I tried to calm the owner down by saying that I had never heard of any animals or humans that could diagnose themselves that well.
Animals are like we humans: they can “point” out with a feeling that is translated by the receiver. For example “stiff in right side”, or “headache”. Even if it is the right side, the problem can be on the opposite side and the animal or human is compensating by putting the weight on the other side and therefore is stiff on opposite side. Even doctors sometimes take much effort and examination to determine the actual cause of the pain or symptoms.

As an animal communicator, it is not our job to diagnose, we cannot cure and we have to be so careful about what we are telling the owner. That is why I get so angry when I hear these different scary animal stories. We animal communicators have a huge responsibility towards both the animal and owner.

This particular owner took the dog to the veterinarian and proceeded to subject the dog to many different kinds of tests. She got a huge bill, but thank God, the dog was healthy “as a horse” and now several years later, is still alive.

Not long ago I got an e mail from a lady that had lost her young dog in the battle with cancer. Deeply grieving her friend, and upset that he had died so young, she sought support and comfort from a person that worked with spiritual matters. The message she got from this person was that her dog had taken her cancer so she didn’t have to suffer it herself!!!
But the person also told her to go and check her breasts, there may be lumps!
I told the lady that in my experience, I had not met any animals that would take away our sicknesses.
I told her it was a win-win statement from this soothsayer: “If you go and check your breasts and there is something, this person will say—Good that I told you, I was right—And if you don’t have anything in your breasts this person will say—I told you that your dog took the cancer away from you.” Either way, he looks legitimate!
This poor lady is upset and now her grieving is double. Now she has to go through life punishing herself in the belief that she gave her dog her cancer!

I am not against spiritual help. I think we need both doctors and healers, I myself are using both. It is suppose to help, not scare and make the person sicker.

God Bless the Rescuers

How can anyone do this to children, our Angels?

God Bless the rescuers!

Time to Say Good-Bye to Friends

The countdown has started, time to say good bye to friends. Olivia's best friend Quincy; with whom she's been dinning with, played in the pool with, been giving a ride on the "bike".

All Olivia's toys got shipped over a month ago, Quincy stepped in and loaned her some of his.

We will all miss you Quincy, big brother Hudson, mom and dad... and Boxer Guppy.

Old notes from Bosnia 2000

When I lived and worked in Bosnia a lot of stories were told to me, many times I met the people and children. This Rottweiler "mother" I met and I can still feel the pain echoing in my heart. I want to share my memories with you.

He abused his wife. She was frustrated, had anxiety, and yelled a lot. To make her silent, he smacked with his fist on her nose and broke it.
He loved to maltreat her. The power and satisfaction he felt afterwards was better than an orgasm. Actually, it felt the same as after having one.

The children saw their parents abuse each other, and out of fear they stopped talking in their own home, which ought to be a sanctuary for them.
The kids stayed out on the streets the whole day so they didn’t have to witness the abuse back home, or listen to the screams and see the blood. The boys hated both their parents; they already hated the whole world by the age of eleven and twelve.

They saw a deserted van with the backdoors open and hurried over to it and saw four puppies lying inside sleeping. They closed the doors and set the van on fire.
The boys laughed while the puppies’ mother ran around the van, howling with grief from her heart and soul. There was nothing she could do, but a mother’s instinct was as enormous as any feeling souls.
Her grief made her stop eating and she never left the burned down van.
She starved herself to death.

Virginia 2

We went and visited Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, http://www.history.org/ and it reminded me so much of Skansen back home. It was so beautiful and peaceful, green parks, no traffic, culture, live animals and fantastic food.
Had lunch at a four star restaurant, "Trellis Cafe", the food was fabulous, colorful and tasty. I was in heaven.
Dessert, they are well-known for "Death by chocolate", and yes you couldn't leave at all disappointed.
Our waitress suddenly told us that she also speak two language with her children, curious we asked what the second language was? 'Italian.'
"We are moving to Italy" we shouted.
She looked at my husband, "I love my country but with children I am not moving back. The gypsies are kidnapping children and it is so awful. At the beaches or when you turn around for a moment putting your groceries in the car, and suddenly your child is missing. Please be careful!"
I had done some research and this was not news for me. But trying to tell my husband this he would think I was over-reacting and adding some extra spices to the story.
That is the label I will always carry around for being a former victim of sexual child abuse--I will be thought of over-reacting in cases and stories about child abuse.

When we left the restaurant I whispered a thank you in to the waitress' ear.

Olivia 22 months

Olivia is a helpful girl.

With four dogs we have to have our morning routines; we go out, take the pooper scooper and pick “it” up.

Happily she runs on her little feet and shows me where the poop scooper is, she takes my hand and walks around in the garden. With great Hawk eyes, she can spot a pile meters away, “No no no” she yells pointing. And I rush there and pick it up.

Once I thought we were done and started to do something else. I heard Olivia yell, “No no no” I looked up and she just stood there doing nothing so I didn’t think much of it. Seconds later she stood next to me and handed over the poop to me that she had picked up with her bare hands!

The water bucket for the dogs has to be cleaned and filled up every morning. Olivia loves to do that, of course, a lot of water to play around in. Now I have learned that we should clean it when she still wears her pajamas.

I never complain or at least I try not to —I am not a super mom—but I don’t want to get frustrated when it takes time for her to help me with things, or when it becomes a bigger mess because of her helpfulness.
It is such a wonderful frustration to watch her struggle with the broom to help me sweep the floor. Or when she wants to walk the dog, holds the leash and 60 pound dog Tjojs- walks fast and she is hanging on like a mitten after her.

“Tjschhosh, stop” she giggles.

Virginia

Having some days off and we are visiting Norfolk, Virginia.

Went to Norfolk Navy Base for a graduation and admired all the ships, planes and Black Hawks.
The weather has been as gray as the navy ships, and the traffic terrible, felt like being home in Stockholm.

Olivia is a super trooper to travel with, and yesterday dad took her into the pool for the first time. She loved it, and it was hard time getting her out. Maybe a Mermaid in a former life!?

A lady looked at me and my daughter and suddenly she outburst--"My daughter is rotten! She is spoiled and terrible to take out in public, I never want any more children!."

"Well ma'am, whose fault is that?" I asked her

From a Client's Perspective

Jack, the Doberman, entered my door followed by his owner, a woman my age. Jack was a happy, childish dog with a lot of imagination. He created his own world, from his own perspective and not from that of a human. He was a kind dog, and he couldn’t understand why sometimes his humans were yelling at him; he had done nothing wrong!

Jack wanted to become a police dog, this was his goal and his dream. He loved to sneak through the bushes outside their house. The fence was high, it was perfect because no one could see him from the other side. Summer was the best season, all the leaves on the bushes made good cover for him. He stood still, listening for someone that would walk by the fence. Suddenly, he hears a bicycle, “enemy’s on their way!” he thought and jumped over the fence, barking. The women on the bicycle got so scared that she fell off her bike and down into the ditch. Jack thought he was the hero! Enemy vanquished!

But his owner had another opinion and grabbed Jack by his ears, pulling him into the house. Jack was crying loudly, “what did I do wrong?”

When I told Jack’s owner about this story she laughed and said; “I can see now how a story can have two sides.”

Jack loved to be on the sofa and watch thrillers on TV, especially if all the kids were home. It was so wonderful to be all on top of each other, and sometimes a biscuit fell out of someone’s hand and into Jack’s mouth. He was so surprised that no one seemed to pay any attention to the biscuit in their hand. Maybe he should become a thief instead?
These were the best days of his life.

Jack loved his male owner, because he works “undercover”. I was so amazed over this dog that had a brain and was actually using it. How could the dog know that his master was working under cover in the police force?

Jack’s owner was now laughing even louder. Jack and I stared at her with our big eyes, wondering if this lady soon would choke herself, it sure looked like it.
When she had calmed down and dried her tears with the tissue I handed over to her, she started to tell Jack’s story.

“I could not have Jack home in the house all day; he made me nervous by walking behind me all the time. Now after your story I think he was playing detective, following me around.
My husband was out on different jobs following drug dealers and other criminals. One day I asked my husband if Jack could come with him on one mission, just to try. Jack was so wildly excited over the idea; he was bouncing up and down, inside the house, outside the house, in the backseat of the car. I guess he was so thrilled to go out on his first ‘assignment’. They picked up my husband’s partner and Jack was all over him licking him and bouncing on top of him too. I guess they did the wrong thing by laughing, which was a sign to Jack that he was a great dog.

“They arrived at a small neighborhood outside Stockholm and were sneaking up behind the bushes; I think this was the place he learned how to hide behind our bushes back home. But all this silence and atmosphere of excitement must have been too much for Jack, he would soon burst if something didn’t come out of this waiting. (“A cat would be just fine, I am not asking for much”, thought Jack.)
But after just some minutes the criminals that my husband and his partner were keeping an eye on walks out of the door and Jack gets so exited that he starts to jump and howl, “There they are, there they are!” Of course after Jack’s show and my husband trying to hold him, the criminals escaped.
My husband was furious and drove Jack home immediately; he felt so ashamed.
Behind him, Jack walked in the house and looked at my husband as if to say “you loser!”.

Returning Home from War

Another situation that has expanded a lot since the War on Terror started is stress from deployed soldiers and spouses.

Or is it the same? Do we have more insight and information today than during earlier deployments thanks to Internet and high technology?

The fears and worries among families can create a major problem, or concerns. Some of these families feel like they have no control over their lives and doesn’t know what the future will look like. Just like the soldiers going out to war, they have to prepare themselves for what might happen by doing so, they prepares themselves and their closest family members for the unknown in life.
But returning home after a long deployment adds a large amount of stress on both the returning soldier and his family, a family who might not understand the emotions and fears that have pierced their soldier’s mind and heart.
And the soldier may not understand that his family’s life has continued while he has been gone, and is not frozen in time from the moment he departed.
He maybe doesn’t dare to speak about emotions to other soldiers about wanting to go home, that he misses his family. Afraid of being judged as weak, and on the other side, no one of the others wants to stay out in war anyway, either.

Many wives feel stressed out by staying home with their children alone, and the emails from their deployed husbands are many times short and shallow. Some soldiers don’t want to speak about what they see and do, for fear of worrying their wives. The protection can make many wives feel shut out. When a solider comes home, the mixture of nervousness and fear, excitement and dread, all are mixed with happiness and sorrow. The soldier feels that after a long time apart, the couple (family) will simply continue from were they left off several months or years earlier. But the spouse has her or his routines, and has been handling everything. In many cases both will have a hard time accepting the new realities, and perhaps relinquishing responsibilities they have grown used to.
The soldier returns home tired and possibly exhausted and burned out, and simply want to have some peace and quiet. The whole family, maybe even some relatives rushes to be with him and follows him everywhere, sometimes even when he goes to the bathroom. This particular soldier went up during the night when the family slept just to be by himself.

Soldier’s who perhaps have a wife who wants sympathy for being alone for such a long time starts telling him how miserable she has been. He views it as the one he most of all wanted to get home to blames him and gets defensive, angry and sad. Their emotions feed off of each other like gasoline on a fire.
He is tired, he has seen much, and every night away the thought of surviving another day to come home to her, adds to his internal stress.

When I worked in Sarajevo for a year and a half, and then returned to Sweden, it was difficult to come home! No one understood my pain and the sense of helplessness inside, so I stopped trying to tell people about my experiences. I became frustrated over how the media covered the rebuilding of a recently war-torn country.

And, people from my country had a different opinion about helping the “cave” people. Some would say, “Let them kill each other. Who cares? It was not “our” problem.”

Growing Up

"When the caterpillar thought the world was over,
he turned into a butterfly."


When I turned twelve, we moved to the other side of Malmö, Sweden, and another terrible phase started. I was tall, skinny with thin blond hair, and my parents wouldn’t buy me the latest in clothing fashions. Mother thought I looked beautiful with a corduroy coat, so she gave me one to wear.
I felt like an old lady. Everybody had cool short jackets and tight jeans from the latest designer. Far from being a beauty my classmates eagerly reminded me of that in that terrorizing way only children do to each other.
Since both my parents smoked heavily, and every day my clothes reeked. I tried to pour perfume over my clothes, and of course, that made it even worse.
I was the perfect target to start bullying, and I had no chance to run from them since my long coat would make me trip when I tried.
In the classroom for some reason I don’t remember, I sat in the boy’s row. The guy in front and the one behind me pushed the desks together so hard that I lost my breath. I started to cry, and our teacher, a very harsh lady did not have any compassion at all. She saw my tears falling down my cheeks, still she yelled out my name and forced me to stand in front of the whole class and read out loud.
The boys loved to push me around, and the girls didn’t talk to me. To this very day, I don’t know which torment was worse.
Math was a mystery to me. I couldn’t count.
Actually, I didn’t have the concentration for it. I therefore ended up in a special class to get extra help. In this class, it was the school’s worst boys and me. One particular day, our teacher told us we would play a little game. All five of us stood behind our chairs and the teacher gave us each two numbers to multiply. The one who answered wrong had to sit down. After several turns, it was between me and one of the bad boys.
I won!
Overjoyed, I was good at something. I could master this math!
When the bell rang we all ran out side. The last boy that I had beaten wrestled me to the ground while the other children cheered. He said I had sneered at him when I won, and told me never to do that again!
He punched his fist right on my nose and the blood squirted out. The blood and tears mixed in my mouth.
He was right; I would never do it again. That day I stopped counting, and I also refused to attend school.
Meetings involved Mother, the teacher, and the principal. The school nurse also attended! It went as far as she having to come and pick me up at my house. How embarrassing! Now the kids got something else to tease me about. Some of my classmates recorded a tape, talking about my long ugly toes and that I ran to the school nurse as soon as I had a fart stuck up my butt.
Later on, they played it for everybody who wanted to listen.

Sundays were the worst days. I cried the whole day, and had a nervous stomachache because school would start the next day.
A whole day spent being terrified.
Why did I have to go through all this?
When I started upper secondary school it got a little easier, but my self-esteem was lower than zero. The boys started to grow past me and the hitting stopped.
But still I could hear some guys yell, “Big bird.”
It still hurt my feelings. As a teenager I wanted to be popular and beautiful, as pretty as some of the most popular girls that hung out with the handsome tough guys.
And most of all, I wanted to feel the adults support.

Have you listen to your child/teenager today, without adding your own words?

Be the Voice

Children’s brains are not fully developed, so they cannot combine logical solutions. And when adults cannot handle the issue, how in the world can a child grapple with it?
Our parents are the ones who supposedly should teach us right from wrong, however, when a parent takes advantage of your innocence, you have no idea that it is wrong.
Even today, the ignorance is great and when society or authorities don’t help, who will?

In 2005, I read a report that claims that the average child victim in the United States must tell nine different people about their abuse before someone actually calls the police. (Cory Jewell Jensen, M.S. and Steve Jensen, M.A. report)
One of the explanations; children have difficulties giving a valid sustainable description of the course of events that can adequately substantiate prosecution. They don’t have the language, the time-comprehension, or the experience of human behavior. Some children don’t even understand they have been raped or molested. But they know something was done to them that weren’t right.

Important Bills

My friend cried when she told me about how close her daughter had been to committing suicide. Her daughter had been bullied in school for many years and the school didn’t back her up with support. My friend blamed herself for not seeing the symptoms when her daughter didn’t feel well so often. She had thought it was “just” a teenage phase, with the mood swings and locking herself into her bedroom.
When the mother confronted the teacher, she claimed it wasn’t that bad --- kids could be nasty as teenagers. It had been like that when the teacher grew up forty-years previously.

What we don’t see is that our society is changing in every generation with more cruelty. And the changes seem to be accelerating generation to generation. Since cable television and the Internet came into our living rooms (good and bad), violence has become closer to us in different ways. It can have a strong impact on many teenagers’ minds, and even we adults.
There are even suicide sites on internet were other “people” encourage teenagers to commit suicide!.
Another kind of cult is born!

Young peoples’ minds are fragile and easily manipulated, and it is not until they are around twenty one-years old that their brain is fully developed. We adults have forgotten how our minds and spirits worked in our younger days. We may have been harassed or even bullied, but we could get away from it to a sanctuary.
We didn’t get harassed through e mails or text messages like many children are today. Imagine sitting at home, in your sanctuary, and being encouraged to commit suicide… how emotionally debilitating would that be?
Many young people are home alone a lot, with parents working many hours and the youth’s new friend becomes the computer. We used to think the television was a horrible babysitter, and it was. But imagine how much more insidious is the internet! Something about the interactive nature of it makes it that much more compelling and dangerous. It is more difficult for parents to be aware of the warning signals since we were not raised with the new technology.
We cannot change what we don’t know, but the first step is communication, getting to know our children, just being a part of their thoughts, not only their activities.
How many of us adults didn’t write in our diary as teenagers how lonely we felt, that no one understood us; we had broken hearts and our life was over. But a diary didn’t respond, and didn’t manipulate those emotions facelessly.

My friend blames herself for working too much, “But I had to pay the bills.”
Suddenly, she looks at me with another sparkle in her eyes, “I am going to cut down on my hours, which means we cannot afford our big house. But I bet we can find a smaller house that is cute, and I can be home more with Amanda.”

One year later she sent me a letter; We found a smaller house but it has this old charm. Amanda and I painted the rooms in different bright colors and on the weekends we went out on yard sales finding furniture that we are re-modeling. It is a long term project but we are having so much fun together. The computer is now in the living room area so we both can keep an eye on each other. I never realized that you could become seduced by a computer. I guess some people feel more powerful behind their computer, that their words can eat themselves in through the receiver’s brain and heart. Fantasies can become true and no one can laugh at you and your low self-esteem.
Amanda and I are much closer to each other, and having this project together teaches us more who we are. We can both see that we have made something good out of our days. We even compromise; if Amanda thinks a bright pink hallway is cool and I think a light olive color is more suitable we try to have a discussion. The hallway is now bright yellow, like a sunny day, that welcomes you into our home when you open the door.
Both our lives’ are more meaningful, and Amanda is doing wonderfully. I had forgotten how it is to grow up and how scary the word can feel to a teenager.

Have you talked to your child(ren) today?

Notes From May 2003

I started the Foundation, Animals Without Limits in 2000, lived in Sarajevo for 1 1/2 year working with animals. Some people attacked with the question "Why help animals?" in a very aggressive way. Today, I found some notes that I wrote in May, 2003.

It was very hard to sit in front of the TV in Sarajevo watching CNN news. The world becomes so small that it fits in to my living room and comes so close in to my life.
Now, I am sitting in Sweden and watching the news from Iraq.

A small girl that is just 8 years old is working. Her job is to tie carpets. Her day begins at 0500 and ends at 1900 every day in the week, even Saturdays and Sundays, never a vacation. She will probably not grow to be very old. Every day is she inhaling wool fibres that her tiny lungs catch and hold, these lungs that probably will never breath freedom.
Her eyes and hands are being destroyed slowly day by day and with a pain that reminds her daily about the situation we have put her in to.

War, anthrax, nuclear weapons and refugees. With all this I find it more difficult to answer the question that so many people ask me: “Why help animals?”

But it is not hard to help the animals in war-affected countries. Wherever the human being is in life he will always have questions and other opinions. Maybe he feels guilty because he doesn’t do anything for the humans or the animals.
Maybe she doesn’t have the knowledge, after all, what you don’t know you cannot change.

When I work with animals, I am working together with other people and children. Children and their animals are a natural pair in every culture. Children learn to be compassionate and caring from and through animals. If there were no animals, many of life’s lessons would be lost on the children, and the adults that grew from such a world would be sorry indeed.

But why help animals when so many humans are in desperate need? My answer is that I help people to regain their compassion and concern for their neighbors and their society, through the animals.
On this earth we need both, and both do what they are good at.
We have the same needs and feelings, whatever religion we have, or colour of our skin, or sex, even if we walk on two legs or four. We breathe and live here together on this earth that we slowly suffocate.

It is a strange way of showing our gratitude.

The bully that is ganging up on a fellow pupil says; I like you but you are a threat to me and that scares me.

The man that hits his wife says; I do it because I love you so much, but sometimes you annoy me.

The paedophile that is molesting a child says; I do it out of love, I love you my child don’t you understand that?

The warrior says; I do it out of love for my people and my country.

The person that uses the religion as an excuse to use violence says; I do it out of love to God that is so big.

It is a strange way to show their love, when it is blind for the receiver’s feelings.

My Latest Book

Great news!

My latest book, that was released April 2006 -- will now be sold in paperback --

You will be able to buy it in book stores and at airports, beginning of July.

Twisting the Truth

Psychopaths tend to lie over and over again, and they are so convincing that you repeatedly fall for it. Since the psychopath is only concerned with achieving his own desires or satisfaction, he creates a “cocoon of belief” that satisfies his wishes and needs. If you confront him, he would stare at you like you were the one lying and the one being the psychopath. It is therefore many of us can feel, or come to believe, we are mistaken, or that it is our fault.
These people start at an early age to manipulate and contort the truth. Eventually, the victims have been fooled many times and different ways, creating a whole, detached reality we are a part of. It doesn’t mean that we are stupid because we fall for their web of deceit over and over again. My molesters, brilliant ones, started early by brainwashing me, like a cult. It takes years and years to get out of the grip of such a person. It makes it all the more difficult if that person is a parent or someone you know.

In my experience, my molesters had no conscience at all. They were masters of manipulation.
We all go through life and many of us have the inner voice that tells us what will happen if we do this or that. Right and wrong is based on a moral foundation as well as learning through cause and effect. A person who decides to be unfaithful, knows he or she can be caught and lose their spouse, the whole family, and reputation. Even when you lie, your conscience tells you it is morally wrong, and the person being lied to may discover the lie and never trust you again.
Many molesters don’t have the moral fence within their soul to keep them from the unthinkable, and they are so focused on their rush that they don’t think ahead to the non-moral consequences. They never feel guilty even when being caught. When caught, they show remorse only for the situation they find themselves in, not for the acts that brought them to this point. They just become afraid like a little child, and they will fight to hide their actions and weakness by denying it or blaming the persons they harmed. They get a rush out of controlling the person by giving different statements over time. Their charm is like poison, ingesting the confusion into the one that confronts them.
Indeed, the avoidance of and escape from responsibility is another rush they get!

The Turtle Paddly

The whole family was waiting when I arrived. Paddly, the turtle was laying in a big terrarium with sand, and a lamp that spread a strong, constant light over him. The owner lifted him up and I took him gently, I had never before in my life touched a turtle.
He was also my first turtle client.
But I think he became more afraid of me; Paddly went back in to his “own” house, his shell. I took him back to his terrarium, all of a sudden Paddly sent me a feeling of tiredness and sadness, he was missing something in his life.
Suddenly, could I see a small creek with sand on the sides but mostly clay, and also leaves, and tree roots that are growing down into the water. One man with rolled up trousers has his hands down into the water. He is picking up turtles and throwing them into a little boat made out of wood. In the next sequence images of the turtles are in a box, everything turns pitch black, the oxygen is reduced and the dryness is terrible! That is how Paddly is feeling at this moment, he longs for moisture and leaves and to be able to swim a little. But here in his real life, there is only sand.
I told this to the family and they said he was a dessert turtle I was wrong!
I felt like I had failed and left the family with a sad heart that I hadn't been able to help them.

Months later I received an e mail from the wife, I couldn't get your message from Paddly out of my mind so I started to do some research. Finally I met a guy that worked with turtles-- and I had Paddly with me to show him. The first thing this guy says when he sees Paddly is, "What a beautiful swamp turtle."
You see, Paddly got in the wrong box when he went through customs.
Now he is living with moist and even a little swimming pool and he seems "happier" than ever. I guess he wants a wife too.

Stepson Jackson

Being a stepson must be incredible hard. So many new people in his life--coming and going-- and all are having something to say. You get attached to some people, you get siblings that you maybe get to see once in a while.

Jackson 12 years-old, is a great big brother and he helps his sister without anyone telling or asking him.

Last Christmas he just had money for one Christmas present, and he choose to buy that gift for Olivia. My heart got so touched, and I am making sure that Olivia will hear that story over and over while growing up.

Killing Angels

A big tragedy in Texas happened last week.

A mother—25-year-old-- was found hanged in her trailer home. Before she hanged herself she also hung her four daughters (5,3,2 years-old, and 8 month-old). The youngest, an infant, was still alive when found.
In reality, the mother was little more than a "child" herself.

Texas has had a lot of recent tragedies with mothers killing their own children.
I got an e mail from a friend who lost her four-year-old daughter to cancer. Every time she reads about parents that have killed their children she gets heartbroken—she would do anything to have her daughter back in life. Every day is a reminder for her; when she sees other children playing and laughing, every day she thinks different thoughts marking the childhood progress that will never be, such as “today Kathy would start school...”

What is wrong with our world? Why are too many so mean to our children?
They are our angels from above that come down with so much unconditional love. They are innocent and only want to give us joy (and grey hair—by the way, we have great coloring products today)
Are we so busy that we miss all the mothers’ signs of depression? And why are we having so many depressed, sick people anyway? Is there something about the society we’ve created devoid of morals, or with “relative morality”?

Texas has seen a number of child killings by mothers in recent years.
Less than five years earlier, another Hudson Oaks family was torn apart when Dee Etta Perez, 39, shot her three children, ages 4, 9 and 10, before killing herself.
Andrea Yates drowned her five children in the family's Houston bathtub in 2001. In 2003, Deanna Laney beat her two young sons to death with stones in East Texas, and Lisa Ann Diaz drowned her daughters in a Plano bathtub.
Dena Schlosser killed her 10-month-old by severing the child's arms with a kitchen knife in 2004.
All four of those women were found innocent by reason of insanity. Yates initially was convicted of capital murder, but that verdict was overturned on appeal.

Data from Foxnews Internet.

God Bless Our Kids

This picture has been sent to me both from America and Middle East. My Muisar!

How You Can Develop Your Intuition

People have been writing, asking if I know any good courses for people to learn how to communicate with animals. You don’t have to go to any specific animal communicator course; you can build your own development in this area. Since we all are different and know diverse things we may need different paths. A weekend course doesn’t provide much since this ability takes a long time to develop and manage. It is not just about receiving messages, it is a lot about making sense of and returning the message to the owner of the animal(s)

Perhaps, you could give yourself a course every 6 months. In between, you would practice and let the information-education melt into your system of thinking and intuition.
You don’t have to follow these suggestions in any special order: tune in, do research in the area were you live. You will see that what is meant for you will come to you, maybe a teacher you have admired is coming to your town, or there will be a flier in your mailbox.
Take time, do research and ask, ask, ask.

Yoga class; you can practice to focus and quiet your thoughts so you can receive more information. Yoga is great way to get more information about yourself and your body. Your body will be your key tool while working with animals.

Meditation; same as above but here you are really focusing to tune in and this is so useful even if you are not going to work with animals. You can be more aware about your environment, thoughts, dreams and intuition.

Healing; also working with your intuition to tune into another person or animal. You learn how to sit silent for along time (30 minutes). A great experience for me, the discipline of sitting still and not talking… and not fall asleep! You can later use healing on yourself, your animal or, who knows maybe you want to start working as a healer.

Tarot; same here, working with your intuition and to dare to say what you see and feel. This is a good one but can be a big challenge, you get a thought or a feeling and you share it with the person in front of you.

Life gives us so many opportunities to practice. Shut the radio off in the car, you get so many good thoughts as you travel along.

In my latest book I share all my information’s and my particular way, you can also borrow other books and take notes in your own little book; growing and teaching your spirit.

Good Luck.

They Need You

http://www.releasechimps.org/

Please don't look away, give them your voice and...their freedom.

Dog House

I have not forgotten nor have I healed but I am trying to take my power back. Suddenly my old solutions are not working, even less since I have children. It was kind of easier before, or so I thought.
Some wrote to me asked if I felt better since I am still writing on my blog—but you see—I try not to let anyone cut me down so it effects my writing (just spelling). And I have Olivia, for her I have to do my very best, she didn’t ask to be born into this world, so I owe everything to her to try to be a good role model. The mother is the biggest influence to her daughter but also her father, how he is will affect on her choice of boyfriend(s)
He is out painting the doghouse—camouflage.

I got an e mail from a woman that made me smile, “I hope things have worked theirselves out and you have not hung your fallen hero from the nearest tree.” And “We have been married 4 years now and my husband will swear he is a permanent resident of the "dog house." I loved this comment, thank you friend.

Good Thought to us Authors

Don't take rejection personally,
but take criticism very seriously.

David Eisenbach

Mixed & Eating & Culture

Eating Swedish pancakes with strawberry preserve-- that your mother or grandmother made-- are great childhood memories. Yesterday I wanted to be one of those moms for my daughter Olivia.
I made the pancakes with a lot of love, tasted....yes like being home!
Olivia took one bite, then the pancake came flying like a UFO in the room.
Nooo, she wanted Peanut Butter on her pancake!!
That made me realize, she is a mixed child....half Swedish, half American!

• I am a true Swede, I tried with peanut butter....I had morning sickness before, now I know what color we have on the bottom of our toilet.
• When I moved over here 2004, I had never had a peanut butter/jelly sandwich. ohhh, I am getting goose bumps now.
• When I was saying mixed baby, many people came up to me, "she is not mixed, she is white!" (Most silly comments I have ever heard!)

But watching my daughter eating with joy and love is what is most important, and I guess she created a new recipe yesterday. Maybe she's the next face on the Food network channel.