Takeoffs Khao Phraya and Khao Sadao April 2024

 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8qV-6l4DQs

Paragliding fra Oftenåsen 24 juli 2024 – Laget med Clipchamp

Paragliding from Oftenåsen July 13, 2024

Prøve

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaB6L0IhY7Y

Freediving Skjelvågen jellyfish 4 juni 2024

Trekke skjerm Steinkjersannan 30 mai 2024

Paragliding from Lorvika on May 10, 2024

Paragliding from Khao Sadao on April 15, 2024, one hour in the air

Paragliding from Khao Sadao Only 15 minutes, and toplanding

Paragliding from Khao Sadao almost to Dan Khunthot on April 8, 2024

Paragliding Khao Sadao April 6 2024

Prøve april 4

Paragliding from Khao Sadao to Agricultural College on Sunday March 31, ...

Paragliding from Khao Sadao almost to Dan Khun Thot on March 23, 2024

Paragliding Khao Sadao March 2024

Dedicated to Xi Jin Ping, Putin, Kim Jong Un, Donald Trump, other despots, and wannabe despots

 

”Requiem for året 2024 – dies irae, dies illa”

Noen ganger skulle jeg ønske at latin var et levende språk som vi alle kunne forstå. Den norske oversettelsen yter ikke rettferdighet til Requiem på latin og absolutt ikke til enderimet i hver strofe.

Dies irae, dies illa
solvet saeclum in favilla:
teste David cum Sibylla.

Vredens dag, hin dag
da verden skal forgå i flammer
som forutsett av David og sibyllen.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
quando judex est venturus,
cuncta stricte discussurus!

Hvilken beven det vil være,
når dommeren kommer
for strengt å granske alle.

Tuba mirum spargens sonum
per sepulcra regionum,
coget omnes ante thronum.

Basunen sprer en herlig klang
gjennom gravkamrene i alle land
for å kalle alle foran tronen.

Mors stupebit et natura,
cum resurget creatura,
judicanti responsura.

Døden og naturen forbløffes
når skapningen gjenoppstiger
for å svare dommeren.

Liber scriptus proferetur,
in quo totum continetur,
unde mundus judicetur.

Boken vil bringes frem
hvor alt er skrevet ned,
hvorfra verden skal dømmes.

Judex ergo cum sedebit,
quidquid latet apparebit:
nil inultum remanebit.

Når dommeren tar sitt sete
vil alt som er skjult bli synlig,
intet vil gå ustraffet.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus,
cum vix justus sit securus?

Hva skal jeg, elendige, si?
Hvilken beskytter skal jeg oppsøke
når selv ikke de rettferdige kan være trygge?

Rex tremendae majestatis,
qui salvandos salvas gratis,
salva me fons pietatis.

Konge av uhyre majestet,
som uten vederlag frelser de som må frelses,
frels meg, nådens kilde.

Recordare, Jesu pie,
quod sum causa tuae viae:
ne me perdas illa die.

Husk, miskunnige Jesus,
jeg er årsaken til din ferd,
mist meg ikke på denne dag.

Quaerens me, sedisti lassus:
redemisti Crucem passus:
tantus labor non sit cassus.

Utslitt satt du i søken etter meg,
du forløste meg med korsets pinsler,
la ikke slik en bragd gå til spille.

Juste judex ultionis,
donum fac remissionis
ante diem rationis.

Rettferdige vredens dommer,
gi forlatelsens gave
før oppgjørets dag.

Ingemisco, tamquam reus:
culpa rubet vultus meus:
supplicanti parce, Deus.

Jeg sukker, som den skyldige,
mitt ansikt rødmer av skyld,
spar den som bønnfaller deg, Gud.

Qui Mariam absolvisti,
et latronem exaudisti,
mihi quoque spem dedisti.

Du som gav Maria forlatelse,
og hørte tyvens bønn,
gav også meg håp.

Preces meae non sunt dignae:
sed tu bonus fac benigne,
ne perenni cremer igne.

Mine bønner er ikke verdige,
men du, gode herre, vær god,
så jeg ikke brenner opp i evig ild.

Inter oves locum praesta,
et ab haedis me sequestra,
statuens in parte dextra.

Gi meg et sted blant fårene,
og hold meg borte fra bukkene,
la meg stå ved din høyre hånd.

Confutatis maledictis,
flammis acribus addictis:
voca me cum benedictis.

Når de forbannede har blitt dømt
forvist til etsende flammer,
kall du meg med de salige.

Oro supplex et acclinis,
cor contritum quasi cinis:
gere curam mei finis.

Jeg ber ydmykt og fromt,
hjertet er knust som aske,
hjelp meg i min siste time.

Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus

Hin tårefulle dag,
da fra asken stiger
den skyldige som skal dømmes.
Vis ham nåde, Gud.

Pie Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem. Amen.

Barmhjertige herre Jesus,
gi dem hvile. Amen.

Paragliding Khao Sadao March 17, 2024

Is Donald Trump mentally deranged?

 See  https://edition.cnn.com/2024/01/21/opinions/nikki-haley-trump-mental-fitness-obeidallah/index.html?iid=cnn_buildContentRecirc_end_recirc

Paragliding Khao Sadao end of February 2024 2

Paragliding Khao Sadao end of February 2024

Paragliding Khao Sadao February 18, 2024

Groundhandling Wat Prong Chang February 15 2024

Paragliding PTB February 12 2024

Groundhandling on February 2, 2024

Groundhandling on February 1, 2024

THE LITTLE MATCHGIRL H.C. ANDERSEN 1845

 

The Little Matchgirl (H.C. Andersen 1845)

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she'd not been able to find again, and a boy had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.

Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she thought of that!

In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.

Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant's home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.

"Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.

"Grandmother!" cried the child. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!"

And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.

But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

"She wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.

 

video 2023 december 23 freediving hat nual koh larn

video 2023 December 7 driving from Lom Sak to Phu Thap Boek saam (three)

Takeoff phu thap boek november 28 2023

Paragliding from Phu Thap Boek Saam to Lom Kao on November 27, 2023

Løping – Laget med Clipchamp