Yesterday, at the exact time of the Solar Eclipse, I attended a very special event in a very special venue here in Oslo. It was a meditation concert called “Voice of Nature”, and in the words of the performers Bjørn Arne Løken (gongs and crystal singing bowls), Seshen (vocals and movement) and Ben Gerstein (on trombone), they wanted to “bring the depth and the vastness of the voice of nature, in free improvised music.”

The venue itself, Emanuel Vigeland’s museum and mausoleum, is a dark, barrel-vaulted room, completely covered with fresco paintings depicting the cycle from birth to death. It has a very unusual and almost overwhelming acoustics, so I knew this evening would be a unique experience in more ways than one. Two days earlier, I had performed a ceremony to prepare for the Solar Eclipse in the forest close to my home. During that ceremony, I collected water to use for my paintings, and I was guided to bring this water and my crystals to the evening’s event.

During the whole performance, my entire body was vibrating from the sound emanating from these three talented artists. The whole room acted as an immense resonance chamber, each sound lasting for several seconds and weaving into each other until it was like a living, breathing organism. The intensity increased to an almost overwhelming level, for then to subside all the way down again. The sound and the physical impact of the vibrations on my body felt like contractions, and it was such a profoundly powerful expression of the Sacred Feminine. The room was sparingly lit, like we were deep, deep underground. The image I got, was of being inside the womb of Mother Earth herself as she gave birth. I was also reminded of the words I had shared earlier in the day about the Solar Eclipse: “As the Sun is darkened the light quickens” and I realized that this was actually what I was experiencing. It was as if the vibrations and the sounds were assisting Mother Earth and all of us present to open up and receive the Eclipse energies.

When it was finished, I looked behind me: there, painted on the wall, was an image of a woman who had just given birth, the baby still attached to her via the umbilical cord. It could not have been a more perfect image to symbolize what I had just experienced.

Today, these words and the painting accompanying it, emerged. The painting was made using some of the water I had brought with me:


The contractions come and go

in relentless but loving waves

swelling and subsiding

from the sweetest of whispers

to a thunderous crescendo

the message is the same:

You are ready.


Dedicated to Seshen, Bjørn Arne Løken and Ben Gerstein.