Blog

The Weaver

Moving in waves above sandbanks and mountain chains, the weaver was first a dream dreamt by the matter of the universe. From the core of the earth she was connected with the world of concrete. Living many lives spinning her own and others dreams and weaving them into patterns she cares for. Where do they begin and where do they end? Entangled in the worlds of dreams and the world…

The drop

A drop dripped into me and I am a drop dripping. Drop, drop dripping life. I’m a drop in and of all the oceans. Clouds. Swamps. Ponds. Lakes. Streams. Rivers. I’m a drop landing on a leaf, rolling down the leaf, falling, flying through the air, landing on the next leaf. Landing, rolling, falling, flying till I land on the forest floor. I collect. I lose myself in something. I…

the (w)Hole Union Us

I feel there’s the (w)Hole universe encapsulated in gifts received from you and through you…                         Sword-Weaver, water Drops, Flame-voice, dancing lady (Sun)Death,  Journey in a little bottle…   Evening after, Sister asked me what the most transformative experience was? Well, dear Sister, it was our Union rituals of shadow&light: one by one, air by air, each poetic self…

morning of Domestification

Transition of the seasons

A year has passed since the academy manifested in Copenhagen. Some of us are still here. Are you? The shadows fall differently in the autumn, as the sweet tast of summer takes leave. This is an invitation to gather, briefly, yet without haste. To mark the coming of the darkness of the season. Do you wish to leave something behind in this transition? Write it down on a note, or…

Performance – Ølgod

Jeg synes det var en god oplevelse, og jeg kunne godt lide at man ikke vidste hvad der skulle ske. Jeg synes man skulle ligge på gulvet i rigtig lang tid og kunne ikke koncentrere mig til sidst. Der måtte godt være to eller tre, som tog os ind ad døren, og ud igen. Man kunne også bagefter fortælle, hvad meningen var med selve forstillingen.

Drawings from a student

A student has documented her journey through Sisters Academy #6 – The Boarding School at Den Frie in drawings and was so kind to share them with us. See them here.  

The splitters

May women who cut people heads off who live freely whose fingers are stinky who wipe on their dresses their bloody nails be cursed Ambre.

The Crack

The Crack is moving further. Listen to the silent noise – like a creaking iceberg just before calving. It is time to investigate the intersection between light and darkness – the land of sorrows, frustrations, death and relief – the place where seeking, touch and sensations is your compass into the unknown. The lines of the crack are not straight. Let the feet move, lean back, and you will bee…

.

my fingers, crawling forward out of the hand like melty worms show me where to put them I come with the tide leaving everything behind walls of the apartment confined spaces my own space the spaces of my body inside out look at my tongue, my throat, it’s red as the interior of shops on valelentines day love blinking heart-shaped lights Close your eyes my language thick with meditations now…