Kategoriarkiv: #English

NutriBullet!

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When I was in Seattle visiting a friend from high school, NutriBulletI got to try her NutriBullet for my morning green smoothies, and BAM, I fell in love, instantly!

So when I got home, I immediately started to search for it, and found one that I could order from Halens (Swedish site). I picked it up on Saturday, and have now tried it out a few mornings.

I am so happy with my purchase, and really enjoy making my morning smoothies with this device, quick and easy, fairly quiet, especially compared to the old food processor that I’ve been using until now, and definitely easier to clean.

My very own NutriBlast

I have yet to try doing anything else with it though. According to the folder that came with it, it can also be used for other things, besides smoothies. If you’ve tried a NutriBullet, do you have a good recipe to share with me?

I’m so sorry

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Svara

I am so sorry, so very very sorry.
For the way it has become.
For my part in it.
For whatever it is that made it this way.

I’m also very tired. Tired of carrying the feeling that there is something to be on the look out for, and that something doesn’t contain any niceties. On the contrary. In something there lies harsh words, needles causing tiny pin pricks, at times just one or two, other times loads of them; sometimes very general, othertimes oh so easy to tell that I’m at bull’s eye and the dart arrow hits right smack in the middle of it, or at least that what it feels like.

Perhaps more than anything, I feel sad about the entire situation. Because I just don’t see the sense in it. And perhaps that affects me more than the rest?

I used to want to make sense of the world, order and structure it to suit my liking, because that made me feel safe and good. I’ve let a lot of that go, but in this instance, at least right now, within my current state of mind while writing this (and who knows if I’ll ever publish it?), I would like to make sense of it.

Won’t you please tell me? Why the animosity? What’s with the pin pricks? What within you makes you believe that’s the way forward? What value do you get from this behaviour? How does this serve you?

I know it doesn’t serve me, at least not in a glaringly obvious way. Perhaps deep down on an unconcious level it does somehow…. what do I know? But it sure doesn’t feel like it does me much good. It drains me of energy. And it’s made me go off one of my favourite pastimes. And that’s a shame, because I really liked hanging around there. Not so much nowadays.

I struggle to make sense of it, and cannot. I uncover a fear or two, that I think can be contributing causes, but, seriously, this has gone on for too long, there has to be more behind it, than just a small fear or two.

coming close

So maybe I did get really close? I certainly let you in, and perhaps, in my loving, I did touch you? Maybe I came close enough to make you see something within you, that perhaps scares you even more? Can that be it?

Well, what do I know?
I don’t. And it’s really not for me to find out either.
I just wish it would stop. I would like to be friends, but barring that, friendly or at least civil would be a great start. More than anything I would like to prove this isn’t how it has to be:

“People want to be loved; failing that admired; failing that feared; failing that hated and despised. They want to evoke some sort of sentiment. The soul shudders before oblivion and seeks connection at any price.”
― Hjalmar Söderberg, Doctor Glas

So what do you say, won’t you please take my outstreched hand and together we can turn a new leaf, start afresh from here, forget what has been and be in the now?

A question worth asking

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Svara

That’s a question worth asking.

The sentence reverberated in my head…. as I realized that only because it’s a question worth asking, it does not mean, necessarily, that it’s a question worth answering.

I am extra fond of questions these days, compared to before. Or, I don’t know. It’s quite likely, now that I think of it, that a lot of my colleagues from previous work places thought I was a pain in the ass asking a lot of questions. Most likely a lot of them quite tough to answer, as I have always had a tendency to go up to system level, finding flaws and possibilities for improvement.

…if only the questions were asked, awareness raised…. then I could get going!

Perhaps once in a while, questions were not heard, deliberately, out of fear for what raised awareness might lead to?

And did I ever get frustrated when awareness was not raised. When I was speaking and writing to deaf ears and blind eyes, refusing to take it in. Like the three monkeys, holding their hands over eyes, ears and mouth.

I can imagine the unwilling recipients of words and writing desperately desired me to hold my hand over my mouth, taking on the personal of that third monkey. But nah, that’s never really been my strong suit.

question worth askingBecause sometimes it’s all in the asking! Agree?

My greatest teacher

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2

Today my daughter turns fifteen. Fifteen years ago my life had just turned upside down as me and my then husband split up just five weeks before Alma was born. In all that turmoil, there was one thing which was rock solid regardless of the spinning motion of the world around me, and that was becoming a mother to this little person, who turned out to be Alma (whose name means soul in Spanish).Darling girl

As time went by, the turmoil slowly resided, and everyday life kicked in as we created a life together. Over time, our lives have taken new turns leading us to where we are at today. And when I look at where I am at, as a human being, knowing and looking within myself, Alma has been a pivotal person for my personal development.

Beloved AlmaSo I thank you Alma, for being my greatest teacher. I’ve learned so much together with you, and when I first started to look within myself, being the best mother to you that I am capable of being was definitely a motivating factor for me.

Besides learning a lot from being your mother, I also have a lot of fun with you, and I truly look forward to having a lot more fun with you in the days, months and years ahead.

Being a part of each others lives also means we get to ride the high’s and low’s of life together, and I cherish all of it, as it makes life so much richer. I wouldn’t trade being your mother for anything in the world.

Loka Brunn

Happy birthday, my beloved Alma!

I love you, and I am grateful every day for having you in my life. ❤

 

Constant comparisons

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Svara

How much comparison do you do in a normal day? I know I do a lot of it. I think mostly out of habit. Perhaps also due to the natural tendency the brain has of putting things in boxes in order to know how to relate to it.

Anyway, I think a lot about this constant game (hunt?) for comparison that goes on in life all the time. This game causes me to strive to be better, more worthy, smarter, with bigger insights, better grades and so on. All in comparison with someone else, someone else who will then fall beneath me, in the race to the top of the game. I can get caught up in it just like the rest of us. But does it serve me?

Comparing

And really there is no reason to compare. I am already all I am – I’m like the sun behind the clouds, always there regardless if my splendor shines through in a specific moment or not – and why should I compare one sun to another?!

How does this habit of comparing influence the way we share bits and pieces of our lives? Today, with social media, sharing snapshots, comments, thoughts from my life is easier than ever. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, RunKeeper, to name but a few. There’s a multitude of ways, and I use a lot of them.

The trick for me is to take part in what my crowd share, and rejoice or empathize with them or cheer them on, all depending on the situation at hand. But to not fall into the trap of comparing and, honestly, degrading my own life and my experiences due to someone elses life ”seeming to be better, bigger, brighter”. It’s a life.

I mean we are used to the pattern in society saying when people share we shall compare… And that’s the pattern I want to challenge, so that you compare when it serves you, not out of habit.

Knowing this still doesn’t stop me from feeling low sometimes, when I fall short in the comparison game. But understanding that it’s a mind game I’m playing, also means that I know, deep down, that the sun is always there. In me. In you. And why should I compare one sun to another unless it really is of value to me?

Holding a space of love

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Being held in a space of love is for me a great place to be coached from. But being held in this way is something that I’ve experienced in many different settings.

My MasterMind-group is a great example of this, and I think that is part of the success that group is/has. Being held in a space of love means that I can be me, full out, without feeling like I have to guard my human experience. I can just be, and tell my MasterMinders where I am at. Full stop. Daring to say what I am experiencing in the moment, is a liberating sensation, and not one that I’ve been used to experiencing. At least not this unrestricted, unfiltered and vulnerable. I’ve always been one for laughing when that urge sets in, but crying, or acknowledging my feelings of shame, guilt, embarassment and such, not so much. Letting those feelings shine through somehow meant that I was bad, corrupt, broken. Or so I thought. And that was a thought I believed to be true.

My beloved friends in back office of #skolvåren are another example of this. That’s also a group where I can just be me. And it’s such a wonderful sensation, let me tell you.

And yes, I feel this, sometimes, within my family. Not always. It’s as if the close relationships sometimes makes it harder, because there are so many expectations between all involved. Or is this just my perception of it?

There is the child. As is. And then there is my image of what that child should be, could be. As he/she is not. When I believe in the imaginary image that I am holding my child up against, constantly measuring, checking, judging to see whether or not my child ”fits the part”, I am NOT holding my child in a space of love. Rather the opposite.

There is the spouse. As is. And then there is my image of what that spouse should be, could be. As he/she is not. When I believe in the imaginary image that I am holding my spouse up against, constantly measuring, checking, judging to see whether or not my spouse ”fits the part”, I am NOT holding my spouse in a space of love. Rather the opposite.

And go figure, the more of this I practice, the more of this I get in return. So if I want to be held in a space of love, what better way than holding that space of love myself?

Holding a space of love

Because I can drop the imaginary images, I can shed them, and just be with what is. Be with my child. Be with my spouse. Just be and hold them, from a space of pure love. Because the love is there. That has never been the issue. But it’s been clouded, which has made it harder for said child or spouse to feel held in a space of love. Because love hasn’t been all they have been held within. And that has been the case. Except occationally, when all there has been has been that timeless and unconditional love, undiluted.

Now, this past year, as I’ve been shedding more and more of the layers I’ve been ensconsed within, layers that are no longer serving me, blocking the light within me to shine through, I have also dropped my attachment (most of it? all? is it possible to drop it all? it honestly feels like that most of the time) to the imaginary images, and I am with what is. And that kicks all of my relationships up into a different ball game. And you know what, I’m really curious as to what will unfold from this place and space.

I’m doing more and more holding from a space of love, and it has a calm and peaceful sensation to it. It’s like an exhalation after holding my breath for a while. Holding my breath requires a lot of tension. And the relief when I exhale is palpable. That’s how I feel when I hold a space of love. And I love that. So if I want to be held in a space of love, what better way is there than holding a space of love?

Be gentle with yourself

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I do a lot of coaching sessions right now, and one of the things that almost always seems to come up in the conversations, is the general tone of the inner voice we all carry with us. Mine used to be a dictator, lashing out at me with a leather whip, and being real nasty, on a daily basis. But not anymore. Not a lot, at least. I’ve become gentle with myself, and I cannot even begin to describe the difference it’s made in my everyday life.

Being gentle with myself, for me, means that I don’t beat myself over the head with a shovel anymore, whenever I do, say, or even think, something ”bad”. Because I’ve come to understand that ”bad” is a construction. My thoughts and the resulting feelings are neutral. They just are. But we have, as a society I guess, placed a whole lot of meaning on them, giving them a value.

If I ask you to name three good feelings, I’m certain it’s not a problem for you. Perhaps emotions such as love, joy, happiness, generosity, care come to mind? Now if I ask you to name three bad feelings, perhaps you’ll come up with emotions such as hatred, anger, anxiety, vengence, desire, jealousy and so on?

Well. What I’ve realized is that this is nonsense. It’s not true. There is no such thing as a good or bad feeling. That’s all make belief. We’ve invented it. And I think the reason we’ve made up all these stories around these feelings, is because when acting upon the ”good” feelings, generally there is value to that action. It serves us in some way, that is more easily understood and felt than when acting upon the ”bad” feelings. Acting on hatred rarely serve us, and generally speaking there is less apparent value to acting on these feelings. And I agree with that. But, that still doesn’t mean the feeling and the thought it came from, are good or bad. They still just are. They exist. Period.

And I even venture as far as stating, that believing in the story of good and bad thoughts and feelings, is actually causing much more harm to us, than shedding that belief, and seeing the thoughts and feelings for what they are. A thought. And a feeling. Nothing more, nothing less. Just that.

For me, this makes it much more easy to feel what I feel without beating myself up over it. I can be nervous without being nervous about it. I can be angry without being angry at myself for it. And so on. This is what I mean with being gentle with myself. I feel what I feel, and that’s ok. I’m ok with that. Most of the time, that is… because sometimes I’m at a low state of consiousness and then perhaps I’m not ok with being angry and upset. And you know what? That’s ok too!

Now, what this ok-ness doesn’t mean, is that I give myself permission to act on whatever feeling I’m experiencing in the moment. No. That’s another ball game. I’m ok with feeling whatever I feel, but I now know I don’t have to act on every feeling I experience. I can just sit with it. If I’m angry, that’s ok. But that doesn’t mean I have to scream and shout. Sometimes I do, because I feel that’s what will be of service to me in the moment. Sometimes I don’t, because I don’t feel it will be of service to me in the moment. There is no right or wrong that is always right or wrong. It varies. (Barring actually inflicting harm upon another being. Does that really ever serve anyone?)

Knowing this, really really knowing it in my heart, means that I am no longer a slave to my feelings. I don’t have that urge to lash out, when I’m angry, at least not at all as frequent as it used to be. I have a choice to act on my feelings, and what will serve me in the moment will vary. That means there really is no right or wrong here, and with that realization, suspending judgement upon myself and other has fallen away, and only remains to a very small extent in my life. So I’m not only more gentle with myself, I am also much more gentle with you, and the rest of the world.

Except when I’m not, because I have a muddled mind, lacking clarity, and that’s ok. I know my clarity will return, in time, and I also know that it really serves me to be gentle with myself. At all times.

be gentle

Be gentle with yourself. Try it out. You don’t even have to believe you deserve it. Just try it. Ok?

When they sleep

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I read a poem today, by the Norwegian poet Rolf Jacobsen (1907-1994) :

All people are children when they sleep.
there’s no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.
They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when no one will do anybody harm.
If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
– God, teach me the language of sleep.

half-open flowers

If only we could speak to each other then, when our hearts are like half-open flowers, what a difference that could make. What would you be saying differently do you think?

Writing induced by flight mode

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It’s funny this, how I seem to be at my very peak of writing whenever I am on a plane, with my iPad in flight mode, isn’t it? Or perhaps it isn’t? Very few distractions, plenty of hours to make the most of, and not a whole lot of options as to what to do. I like it a lot though, getting down to it, writing blog post after blog post, that will be published in due time – some might never make it to the public view though! – and just going with the flow, picking up on a thread, and just writing away for a bit, finishing, finding a new thread, and so on. Repeat until breakfast is served…

So I’ve been thinking how I can set it up for me so I actually can get down to this very peaceful and easy-flowing writing without having to hop across an ocean to do it, and one thought that I’ve been having is to go for silent writing retreats by myself, somewhere. Preferably someplace with no or restricted wifi, to make sure I don’t waste my time idly chatting to friends on social media platforms of one sort or the other.

Now, I do write at home though. Otherwise I’d be hard strapped for daily blogging, let me tell you. And once in a while I take full writing days, because the urge to write is so overpowering which makes it a joy to surrender to that feeling! But I’d like to do more of it.

If I get to dream – and I do! -, I’d go to a simple cottage, somewhere out in the country, with beautiful scenery, so I can also take long exploratory walks, and just write. This summer I visited the summer house of the sister of a dear friend – that would be a perfect spot to go. Secluded, amazing surroundings and with a wonderful ambiance to the house. But I’d have to go alone, because I know if I went with my dear friend, we’d be talking talking talking. Then again, that ain’t bad, so I’m gonna dream about going away with her and a few more friends as well, on a talking retreat! And actually, that’s more likely to happen in the near future, because we will make it so.

Silent retreat

So, the question for me is, when will I make my dream of a silent writing retreat happen?