The Versatile Blogger Award

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Thank you so much, Nihasuri, for nominating Beach Books Blog ❤

Here are 7 truthful facts about me. I did not include those that I’ve already mentioned a lot on Beach Books Blog. About Enseaclopedia that I write on my yellow typewriter, about my salty passion for the sea and my dream to open a bookshop by the sea one day with books about the sea. Here are the facts I haven’t yet told you. Personal and truthful.

Rules:

-You have to thank the person who nominated you and provide a link to their blog! (Being kind)
-Link the nominees and inform them about their nomination (passing the love, that was given)
-Nominate at least 15 bloggers of your choice (At least)
-Share 7 facts about yourself (being truthful)

7 facts about me

1. I’m never forgetful of being grateful. One of the persons that I’m sending thank you notes in my mind is Vivienne Westwood. I read her biography written by herself and Ian Kelly when pregnant with my second so. Around the time when I changed the course of my life. Her life story, that is still in full speed, gave me more courage to jump in the dark unknown. To leave the job I where ok with, and not to know what to expect. But to believe deeply inside that there is a possibility to find your own road, to unearth your true dreams, buried under the daily drive. When Dame Westwood was very young, she worked as a teacher and was far away from fashion world. But she always knew that there is something behind that thick curtain of life as she knew it, there is something more, and she had to make a scary jump in the dark unknown to reach the other side of the curtain. She even spent one year living in a trailer with both her little sons, knitting and reading all day and sending her kids to museums instead of schools, that she couldn’t afford for that year. I learned a lot from her biography. Mostly the courage to trust.

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2. My heart and fascination belongs to the sea, but there is something so calmingly beautiful about rivers as well. I live between the river and sea. River is one minute walk from my house; to the sea I have to ride my bike if I want to reach it in a few minutes. My river is wide and majestically slow, not bumpy or hectic. “The river is within us, the sea is all about us,” wrote T.S. Eliot in his poem The Dry Salvages. How true. River is soft, tender, although sly, be careful. Her banks are green, a bit of jungle. It reminds me of inner wisdom, fertility in everything you do with love, of a steady flow. Shamanic taste of nature. When my father had a car crash last summer, I had a dream of a pink river one night, where everything flows, embraced by almost psychedelic liquid of pure love. He is alive and well now.

3. My grandfather, a well-known Latvian painter, that I sadly didn’t have the possibility to meet, had a beautiful idea for his summer cottage by the lake. He wanted to build it in a form of triangle, with both roof planes going from ground to the peak, covered in reed. Frontside and backside of the house from glass. He realized his dream. And I spent all my childhood summers in this amazing house that grandfather had called the Nest of Reed or Wigwam.

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4. I love swans. Amazing beings. Crispy white and royal. Loyal to each other. And ready to stand for themselves if necessary. Sometimes I see them on seaside. Swimming in the sea like white yachts. Surreal view. Because I’m more accustomed to meet them in river. I even know where one pair builds their nest each spring. In a very safe place that you can view from distance and they don’t mind. My sister once took a photo of them and made me a gift. A large and framed black and white photo of their nest of reed with swan queen sitting in the throne of their love.

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds –
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

Mary Oliver

5. Last time when I cried while reading a book was last summer. I read Hemingway’s Farewell to Arms and the ending pierced me. Previous time was in childhood when reading a wartime novel Blizzard of Souls by Latvian writer Alexander Green. Not because of war, I think, but because of the mastery to pour so many pain in just a few apt words.

6. From all the places in the world my strongest wish is to visit Grand Canyon one day. The billion years old bronze seabed with bright green river and Navajo Indians, children of the weaving Spider Woman.

7. I think I’ve written enough already. But if you want one more fact about me – recently I flipped through my diaries and notebooks that I’m keeping for the last two years. And I found an entry that I wrote in 2015 when I still had no idea of my upcoming sea voyage. “I want to crochet the surface of ocean,” I wrote. How prophetic it sounds right now 🙂

I’m still bad at choosing so many bloggers, but the ones I highlight, are special to me. This time I want to give the deserved attention to Oliver Brennan and his blog whosyourvillain.com. Follow him in his unique journey!

And thank you, Nihasuri, once again ❤

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