I am Benedicte Marie, and the woman behind Amarie Atelier. 29 years ago, I was born into the embrace of Norway’s western shores, where fjords meet the mountains and the land hums with ancient memory. This land raised me. It carved me from wind and water, from salt and silence, and taught me that life is both fierce and fragile — that the sacred lives in every breath
when we choose to witness what stands before us.

My path has never been straight. I was a sensitive child in a world that did not always know how to hold the complexity of my emotions. I felt everything; the grief, the stillness, the buried anger and fear, the unspoken stories in other people’s eyes. My sensitivity got early dimmed, not out of cruelty, but out of fear of its depth. So I learned to hide, to be composed, to silence my body’s knowing, and make myself smaller than the life that wanted to move through me.

At twenty, my body could no longer keep it together. She broke under the weight of everything I had refused to feel, and the neglect of nourishment I had taught myself to restrict in order to survive. What followed was not a grand awakening, but years of descending into the quiet place where I finally began to breathe again.

Breath by breath, I found my medicine. Crack by crack, my heart broke open to life, and I discovered that my sensitivity was never my wound — it was my wisdom guiding me home. It was the doorway into intimacy, to truth, to the sacred language of my being and the art of remembrance.

Through this remembering, I slowly returned to the wisdom of my feminine body and to the cyclical rhythm of nature and womb. After years of shame and silencing her, I finally came to the understanding that healing was never about striving upward, but softening inward.