Tired? Wake up!

My Mix 2

There And Back Again

I’ve collided with a star…it is raining down stars. I am swept away by loving energy…ecstatic love…a deep soulful connection that feels like stars are flickering and shooting all around me. 

Emotions and energy are sacred to me…as they are the source of my creative process. I use them to turn my life into music…and in the music contains the exact emotions that are stored within me. 

Those who give me this energy and are not afraid of emotions, are welcomed as loving stars within my constellation (globular star cluster). 

I go beyond what is touchable to a place where music begins…’go there M, go find your new music’, the stars whisper. 

I go…

Thank you TA for giving of your loving energy.

beat

4.Color blue

Selected works from Fernando Sor's Opus 60
Engineered by Steve Steckler at Asparagus Media

Study -20

Call back Angels, track 6. Angels abandoned by beauty

Featuring Inyha (voice)

Glory Beauty

Leaves

🛒

I wish you a very happy new year and mostly I wish that all those bully leaders, dictators and political parasite such as Mister N, Mister P, Mister T, etc. will be dismissed in 2025.

Music: Syrel

2024 ---> 2025

This is the Norwegian version of my original, See Me

Lyrics/ Vocal by me
Music made in GarageBand

English version with English lyrics:
Listen to See Me  (Original) by Janne Hennie on #SoundCloud
https://on.soundcloud.com/2Ux87ioBRt9TBok4A

Norwegian Lyrics:

Æ e som en båt utpå et tåkefullt hav
Seile avsted...
E fortapt med fri
Ikkje hold mæ igjen
Æ treng å seile for mæ sjøl
Kanskje kan æ finne ei trygg havn der ute...

Men se mæ
Kan du se mæ
Æ står og vinke til dæ...
Hør mæ 
kan du høre mæ
Når æ rope på dæ...

Leite etter svaran til de spørsmåla æ har...
Tåka vil forsvinne og æ vil se land igjen

Men se mæ
Kan du se mæ
Æ står og vinke til dæ...
Hør mæ
Kan du høre mæ
Når æ rope på dæ...

Ikkje hold mæ igjen
Æ treng å seile for mæ sjøl....
Tåka vil forsvinne 
Og æ vil se land igjen.....

Se Mæ (Original, Norwegian version of see Me)

Transmission ━points of the thinking space

“Who stole Teddy’s cookie jar” short movie main theme. Now on Fetchflix

Teddy loves cookies and jealously guards his recipe for himself. He gets help from a team of tiny bunnies and cats because his fur makes him rather clumsy. However, yesterday’s batch was stolen. Will Teddy and the tiny rabbits and cats team be able to recover the cookie jar? 

“This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. Ho and for those who did not get it, Fetchflix TV is also fictitious.” 

Music: Syrel
Photography: Syrel, Book Cover (1987)

Musical notes: This theme could have been the main theme of the series “Only Murders in the Building.“ but hey, Siddhartha Khosla did such a wonderful work composing her theme that it would be a sacrilege pretending I could do better. Thanks to Tchaikovsky and Saint-Saëns for their help on mine ;o)

Who stole Teddy's cooky jar

The Road Less Travelled

There and Back Again: Part One

The journey began at dawn, the father and daughter standing side by side, gazing at the towering mountains ahead. Snow-capped peaks stretched endlessly into the sky, their path winding through rugged trails and shadowed ravines. She clutched a satchel filled with tokens of home, while he adjusted the straps of his pack.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Are you?”

He chuckled. “A little.”

Days passed in a rhythm of trudging steps and whispered stories. She marveled at soaring eagles and winding rivers below, while he spoke of distant lands—golden temples, ancient forests, markets brimming with spices. At night, they traced constellations, writing their own story in the stars.

Then, one morning, they crested the final ridge. Below them stretched a vast valley, lush and untouched, shimmering with warmth and rich with the scent of an ancient world.

Her father placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “We have arrived.”

“What do you think is waiting for us?” she asked.

He smiled. “Only what we are brave enough to find.”

They took their first steps downward. Their journey had only just begun.

There and Back Again: Part Two

The valley stretched before them, shrouded in mist, the towering cliffs behind them now silent sentinels. Gnarled trees loomed on either side, their twisted branches reaching like skeletal fingers. The air was thick with whispers, rustling through the tangled undergrowth.

The girl clutched her father’s hand. “It feels... wrong.”

He squeezed gently. “Stay close. Fear is loud, but we don’t have to listen.”

Shapes stirred in the darkness, glowing eyes flickering between the trees. Strange calls echoed through the valley. The girl pressed against him. “Are they watching us?”

“Perhaps. But watching isn’t attacking.”

The path narrowed, tangled with vines and roots. A low growl rumbled nearby. She froze.

“You are brave,” he whispered, draping his cloak around her. “Fear does not own you.”

Something scurried past. She stifled a gasp. “What if we don’t make it?”

His smile was small but warm. “We will. Together.”

They pressed on, deeper into the valley, where the darkness breathed and the unknown lay waiting.

There and Back Again: Part Three

The trail twisted through the valley, the shadows thinning as they pressed forward. Then, as they rounded a bend, the mist began to lift. The girl gasped, gripping her father’s arm.

Before them, rising beyond the clouds, stood a city of light. Spires of crystal and gold pierced the heavens, towers shimmering as if woven from the sun itself. The air was filled with music—mighty chords echoing through the valley, a choir of voices vast and powerful, swelling like a tide.

The girl’s breath hitched. “It’s beautiful…”

Her father stood silent, awestruck. The mist curled away, revealing bridges arched over flowing rivers, terraces brimming with strange and vibrant flora. Domes of silver and glass reflected the sky, and banners in unknown symbols fluttered in the wind.

“Where are we?” she asked, eyes wide.

“A place beyond dreams,” he murmured. “And we are its guests.”

They stepped forward, the weight of their journey fading as the music carried them toward the unknown.

Written by me & ChatGPT

There and back again Part 1-3

There and Back Again

Chapter 1-3 (https://shorturl.at/Kv6K1)
Chapter 4
Mist still clung to the earth as the father and daughter descended from the ridge, the gleaming city now behind a veil of soft cloud. This valley was unlike the haunted one they had crossed—no growls, no flickering eyes. Here, silence reigned, not with menace, but with mystery.

A sound floated through the mist. It was delicate and searching—its voice rising and falling like wind over dunes. The girl paused. “What is that?”“An old sound. It means someone is here.”
They followed the music deeper into the valley. The path was overgrown but not wild. Vines embraced ancient stone walls etched with symbols. Towering sculptures stood half-buried in earth and time—guardians of something long forgotten.
Soft rhythms joined the mysterious melody, barely more than a pulse beneath their feet. It was as though the valley itself breathed, alive with memory.They walked on in reverent silence.
Still wrapped in the valley’s quiet awe, they moved forward, the melody guiding them toward whatever lay ahead.
Chapter 5
The first tremor came through the ground—a low thrum that rolled through the soles of their feet like the heartbeat of the earth. Then came another, stronger. The girl stopped mid-step. “Do you feel that?”
Before the father could answer, the sky filled with sound: thunderous drums, layered and immense, beating in rhythm like giants marching across the heavens. The air itself pulsed with it. They climbed a low rise of stone and brush, and then they saw it.An army.
It marched in perfect formation, stretching like a living river across the open plain below. Rows upon rows of armored warriors moved with synchronized grace. Their weapons shimmered gold in the diffused light—long spears, curved blades, massive shields engraved with symbols that echoed those carved in the valley walls.
The drums continued, unrelenting and vast, their beat not one of chaos, but of discipline and intention. The girl’s eyes widened, not with fear but awe. “They’re protecting the city.”
“Yes,” her father said, his voice hushed. “This is no army of conquest. This is a wall of living honor.”
He watched the formation, noting the way each soldier held themselves—upright, steady, eyes forward. There was strength here, but not reckless strength. It was the strength of guardianship, of quiet, deliberate power.The girl leaned into him. “They don’t look like they want to fight.”“They don’t,” he replied. “But they will, if they must.”
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the city once more—spiced air, warm stone, something older still. And through the towering sound of the drums, a single, higher note sang faintly in the distance, threading the thunder like a voice in a storm.
Together, the father and daughter watched the golden army pass, silent witnesses to a force both fearsome and noble, standing between the world and something sacred.
Chapter 6
The drums faded into distance. The golden army vanished into mist. And in their place came a wind—warm, gentle, and full of memory. It swept through the valley like breath from the earth itself, curling around the father and daughter.
As the melody grew bigger, the wind swirled upward, lifting her feet from the earth. Her eyes closed, arms outstretched, as the warm air carried her higher, the notes cradling her like wings. She felt something stir inside her—not fear, not even excitement, but knowing. The journey had shaped her. She had seen mystery, wonder, danger, awe. And through it all, she had learned to trust her feet, her breath, her heart.
The wind grew brighter, lighter. The air itself seemed to dissolve, and her eyelids grew heavy. When she opened them, she was home.
Her room was quiet, the morning light soft on the windowsill. Outside, birds called gently. The journey was gone—but not lost. 
She turned her face to the window, eyes filled with wonder . And in the quiet of her heart, a voice spoke and she smiled...

Read the story here!

There and back again Part 1_6

Chapter Four

Mist still clung to the earth as the father and daughter descended from the ridge, the gleaming city now behind a veil of soft cloud. This valley was unlike the haunted one they had crossed—no growls, no flickering eyes. Here, silence reigned, not with menace, but with mystery.

A sound floated through the mist. It was delicate and searching—its voice rising and falling like wind over dunes. The girl paused. “What is that?”

“An old sound. It means someone is here.”

They followed the music deeper into the valley. The path was overgrown but not wild. Vines embraced ancient stone walls etched with symbols. Towering sculptures stood half-buried in earth and time—guardians of something long forgotten.

Soft rhythms joined the mysterious melody, barely more than a pulse beneath their feet. It was as though the valley itself breathed, alive with memory.

The girl reached out, brushing her fingers across a mural carved into the side of a sloped stone. It depicted travelers like themselves, standing before a radiant figure with arms outstretched. Her eyes widened. “Do you think… they came here too?”

Her father nodded slowly. “Long ago, perhaps. Or maybe this place remembers everyone who passes through.”

They walked on in reverent silence.

Still wrapped in the valley’s quiet awe, they moved forward, the melody guiding them toward whatever lay ahead.

Chapter Five

The first tremor came through the ground—a low thrum that rolled through the soles of their feet like the heartbeat of the earth. Then came another, stronger. The girl stopped mid-step. “Do you feel that?”

Before the father could answer, the sky filled with sound: thunderous drums, layered and immense, beating in rhythm like giants marching across the heavens. The air itself pulsed with it. They climbed a low rise of stone and brush, and then they saw it.

An army.

It marched in perfect formation, stretching like a living river across the open plain below. Rows upon rows of armored warriors moved with synchronized grace. Their weapons shimmered gold in the diffused light—long spears, curved blades, massive shields engraved with symbols that echoed those carved in the valley walls.

Banners fluttered in the rising wind, each marked with a sigil neither of them had seen before but which seemed ancient and absolute. At the head of the force rode figures mounted on towering beasts, their armor impossibly ornate—gilded and dark, reflecting both sun and shadow.

The drums continued, unrelenting and vast, their beat not one of chaos, but of discipline and intention. The girl’s eyes widened, not with fear but awe. “They’re protecting the city.”

“Yes,” her father said, his voice hushed. “This is no army of conquest. This is a wall of living honor.”

He watched the formation, noting the way each soldier held themselves—upright, steady, eyes forward. There was strength here, but not reckless strength. It was the strength of guardianship, of quiet, deliberate power.

The girl leaned into him. “They don’t look like they want to fight.”

“They don’t,” he replied. “But they will, if they must.”

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the city once more—spiced air, warm stone, something older still. And through the towering sound of the drums, a single, higher note sang faintly in the distance, threading the thunder like a voice in a storm.

Together, the father and daughter watched the golden army pass, silent witnesses to a force both fearsome and noble, standing between the world and something sacred.



There and back again Part 4_5

Chapter Six

The drums faded into distance. The golden army vanished into mist. And in their place came a wind—warm, gentle, and full of memory. It swept through the valley like breath from the earth itself, curling around the father and daughter.

They didn’t speak. There was no need. The wind carried them forward, though their steps were light and unforced. A melody rose in the air—soft, distant, a heavenly piano that shimmered like sunlight through water, each note lifting the heart as if touched by light itself.

The daughter walked slightly ahead now, no longer clutching her father’s hand. Her stride had changed—longer, more sure. She glanced back once, offering a quiet smile, then faced forward again. The path was dissolving into golden haze, the landscape softening like the final moments of a dream.

As the melody grew bigger, the wind swirled upward, lifting her feet from the earth. Her eyes closed, arms outstretched, as the warm air carried her higher, the notes cradling her like wings. She felt something stir inside her—not fear, not even excitement, but knowing. A calm truth. The journey had shaped her. She had seen mystery, wonder, danger, awe. And through it all, she had learned to trust her feet, her breath, her heart.

The wind grew brighter, lighter. The air itself seemed to dissolve, and her eyelids grew heavy.

When she opened them, she was home.

Her room was quiet, the morning light soft on the windowsill. Outside, birds called gently. The journey was gone—but not lost. It lived within her now: in the dust on her satchel, the curve of her spine, the rhythm in her breath.

She turned her face to the window, eyes filled with the kind of wonder that only comes after seeing what most never do. And in the quiet of her heart, a voice spoke—not in words, but in certainty:

You will go again.

And she smiled.peaceful

Story by me & ChatGPT
Image made in Midjourney

There and back again Part 6

In addition to SC - tracks available on 
Spotify: http://bit.ly/3sGsCG8
iTunes: https://apple.co/2RAe9DU
Apple Music: https://apple.co/40TPePO
Youtube Music: https://bit.ly/40Uky0W
Amazon Music: https://amzn.to/3QZhU5C

Composing using PC, Cubase Pro, Reason and various orchestral libraries among others. Focused mainly on orchestral, atmospheric, cinematic soundtrack style.

For licensing queries and commision work contact Sturle on Sturlestrausscomposer@gmail.com

There and back again Part 1-3

Sturle Strauss Lisaeth-Composer