Kategoriarkiv: #English

Graveyard ruminations

Publicerad den av
Svara

I’m sad to see gravestones in Swedish cemeteries being taken down and removed, for lack of someone to care for them, or perhaps more correctly, pay for someone else to care for them. And I get it. I guess. Someone has to pay the price for it, and all that.

But still. Having spent a few precious minutes of peace and quiet at the wonderful graveyard of St Kenelm’s church in Enstone outside Oxford, I still mourn the fact that Swedish cemeteries are such images of straight lines, well kept graves, and neatly tended shrubs and hedges.

Because the magic get’s lost somewhere along the way. I love burial grounds, and perhaps that’s an oddity in itself (although luckily I know I have several friends who join me in this oddity. I am not alone!), but the real magic of a cemetery is never as well experienced as in a gloriously unkept cemetery found in such number on the British Isles (including Ireland).graveyardsLush greenery, old gravestones, where the writing is all but impossible to read, tipped over gravestones, broken ones, in all manner of disarray. Hundreds of years old graves with a fresh bouquet of flowers and a burning candle on it. Some clearly forgotten. Birds chirping away, the dapples of the sun through the branches of a tree, insects buzzing, a dog barking in the distance.enstone graveyardExperiencing such peace and calmness, my soul settling down into the bosom of my heart, taking it in, all of it. I sense love in the air at cemeteries. Perhaps that seems strange, but then again, grief is love with a twist of sadness to it, right? Looking at myself, I cry for those I’ve lost in this world, because I love them and miss having them around in the form I’ve grown used to. Walking around on a cemetery I feel closer to those who are no longer here physically. Memories of times gone by sweep through me, of laughter, conversations, smells and sounds of my childhood tickle my senses, making me believe, for a split second, that I am sitting at the kitchen table of my Momo, drinking a glass of her homemade pink saft…

Oh sweet memories.

I am grateful for having lived a life which has created a grand library of sweet memories to ruminate upon.

Podcast 45/52 – liberated being

Publicerad den av
Svara

Short and sweet, another Good Life Project riff, on the word transformation and how it’s being used in the world of yoga, self-awareness and mindfulness. The term transformation, as it’s used in this crowd, really comes from is the sanskrit word/concept of jiwanmukta. And jiwanmukta isn’t about transformation, it’s about liberation. It translates into Liberated being.

BoldomaticPost_l-i-b-e-r-a-t-e-d-b-e-i-n-gWhen I listened to this podcast, there was a release within. A flash of lightning, an aha, that told me something I already knew, I just hadn’t put it into words. Jonathan Fields did that for me.

Liberated being – not transformed.
L i b e r a t e d !

So free yourself. Let yourself out of the cage created by and for you. Reveal what is already there, know there is nothing to transform. You don’t have to become someone else, transform into some other being, with different, better, more worthy traits and skills.

It’s all within you.

You cannot be found outside of You. You can only be found within.
So stop looking outside, thinking there’s something you can do, be, buy to find yourself. You cannot. Look inwards. Not to transform. To reveal. To get to know your true essence. To step into it, fully.

Sometimes. It scares me.
Becoming aware of my true essence, to feel, sense, notice it.
Other times, it’s the most divine experience, uplifting, hope giving, and enormously empowering. Because the power is there, within me. None else can empower me.
It’s within. I. Have. It. Already.

Let it out. Liberate it. Set it free.

It? Me!
Set me free. Let me out. Liberate myself.

Liberate thyself?

 

Near miss

Publicerad den av
Svara

Driving north, for hours upon hours. Headed for a family celebration.

Darkness comes swiftly. Teen comments on the compact darkness, very different from the much-lighter darkness of the town we live in, which is, throughout, well-lit. Too well-lit, I sometimes wonder? Never that pitch black night, that only is experienced when far away from well-lit towns. Where the darkness is so dark, it’s as if it’s of higher density, more compact, the air itself has a richer texture to it.

Driving on dark roads, through the forests of southern Sweden, up through Småland and Östergötland.
Hubby behind the wheel, teen beside him, me and the tween in the back.

Wham!

Hubby slams on the breaks, and I look up, through the windshield. See a roedeer in the middle of the road, just a few meters ahead of us, looking me straight in the eyes. It skips towards the side of the road, and when we come upon it, it has just made it past the width of the front of the car.

Roedeer jittery jumping to safety into the forest, leaving us in equal safety in the car.

Near miss.

Heart pounding.
Tween asking why we slammed the breaks, being the only one who didn’t see the roedeer. ”I almost slammed my head in the car seat in front of me”, he whines, chocked when he hears what just *almost* happened.
Hubby driving on, shaken, like all of us, including the roedeer.

But for the quick reflex of hubby, what might have happened?
Gratitude filling me, all of me, from top to toe. Pulsing within, along my racing heart.

Near misses.
Sometimes, they bring a gift. A wake-up call.
Sometimes, they pass unnoticed, and the gift is not brought into awareness.

near missesThis near miss – a gift. Reminding me to make the most of what I’ve got, here, now, today, in this very moment. Enjoy what I have, and remember to take pleasures in the small things of life. Such as a look shared between hubby and wife, in the rearview mirror, as the car speeds ahead again, albeight a bit slower than before. The realization, in that shared look, that life is both precious and gorgeous, and we’d better make the most of it, because it can end, in an instant. And it will. Sometime. Until then, I’ll take this near miss as a gift of life, a reminder to live a life that matters.

A library of Memories

Publicerad den av
1

I have a grand library of memories within. 43 plus years I’ve lived and breathed upon this earth, in the form of Me. Thousands upon thousands of memories, shelved upon the bookcases of the library of Memories within. A little bit like the memory balls of Inside out by Pixar/Disney. bodleianBut as I’ve recently been in Oxford visiting the Bodleian Library, that’s the vision I see before me as I close my eyes and let my imagination carry me away, into the library of Memories within.

There are memories of all sorts there, all flavors. Happy, Ecstatic, Joyful, Sad, Grief, Troublesome, Painful, Sweet, Beautiful. And more, much more. Like a library contains books of different categories, so does my library of Memories. A multitude of memories, encompassing all categories (?) of the Human Experience.

I have, sometimes, felt weighted down by this grand library. Memories have stuck, top of mind, not wanting to (or being able to?) settle peacefully upon a shelf, next to other memories of the same type, or from the same time. A heavy load to carry around, dragging me down, draining me of energy.

This rarely happens anymore. I seldom feel burdened by memories and experiences. They just are. They exist. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don’t have to layer them with the rights and wrongs of my past. I feel. Fully. But no longer (as often as before at least) label experiences, and the resulting memory, as good or bad, as right or wrong, as worthy or unworthy.

Being ok with what is, both in the Now, and in remembering the moments of Now long since passed, makes a difference in everyday life for me. It helps me both feel – truly feel – that which I feel, while at the same time I observe myself feeling it. Not judging. That’s what it is. The difference. For me. Can you relate? Do you know what a difference it does to stop judging oneself, in any given moment?

Creeping up on me

Publicerad den av
1

Afternoon has just come, I’m sitting on the plane flying home from #SethinLondon, and it’s all creeping up on me.

A lack of sleep. A multitude of impressions, of intake, words, questions, new friendships forged, heartfelt hugs from people I didn’t know walked the Earth a few hours before.

Slowing down.
Letting it sink in.
Exhale.
Feel like I’m coming in for landing, in so many more ways than physically.

The chill in the cabin makes the hairs on my arm stand up.
Inhale. Exhale.

Look out the window at the landscape of clouds, so many layers, thick, thin, white – grey – blue in a billion hues. Seen from above they truly form a landscape. Like moutain plateaus, separated by crevices, nooks and crannies, as well as the steepest ravines. Seen from below they look like a silken parasol, a light and flimsy fabric, yet still able to shield me from the sharpest rays of the sun.mattersYawn.
Chills running through my entire body.

Yawn.
Body telling me to rest. Close my eyes, take ten of solitude and silence.

Shake and shiver, tired, elated, inspired. And grateful.
For everything I have, all that I am, and all I will be.
All there will be.

Float away.
Happily.
I am alive, and I get to do work that matters. I get to live a life that matters. What a gift I’ve been given. And you too. You know that right?

New minimalistic record

Publicerad den av
1

I’m flying to London, for a day of Seth Godin live in London, and am a bit astounded at the new record I’ve achieved packing for this trip. Granted, it’s only two nights, but still. I have set a new record for minimalistic packing, and I’m proud of it. In my small backpack I have toiletries (and I probably don’t have to tell you it’s not a lot, and what there is is in travel sizes), a nighty, underwear, a spare top, a pair of wrist warmers, a pair of earings and a hair clip, my IPad, charger and two powerpacks, a small notebook, a pencil and a pen, as well as my Pencil from fiftythree. A small bag of nuts and an empty plastic water bottle that I filled up at the airport. I also stuffed my shawls in there (one small, one larger) since it was so warm at the airport.

I also bring the clothes on my body (and no, I haven’t piled up just to avoid carrying it, I’m wearing jeans, a linen, top, wool sweater, underwear and a pair of trainers), my IPhone and ear phones, my small waist bag (with cash, credit cards and my passport) and a coat. I also stuffed a marble in my jeans pocket. It’s accompanied me on a lot of trainings and seminars since 2,5 years back. It’s getting loaded with great energy, let me tell you!

I did forget to bring my electric plug adaptor, but my friend Michael brought two, so I’m good to go anyway! I’m hoping I won’t regret forgetting to bring my Moon Cup, and I checked the weather and decided against rain clothes. 

This is actually less that what I would likely have brought had I gone to my mom’s house for two days….

So, what am I ”forsaking” in order to travel this lightly?

Well. Nothing in my view, but possibly in yours. I will be wearing the same clothes for three days, except for underwear and my top. I only have one pair of shoes, so I chose comfort over beauty. Hm. I can honestly not think of anything else. But if you’ve seen me, you know I use no make up, so the one litre plastic bag with liquids and stuff is far from filled up (and serves as my toilet bag). And besides, if I need something I didn’t bring, I have money and there are plenty of shops in London. But, perhaps that’s another thing someone might think I am forsaking: shopping. Only thing is, I really don’t like shopping, and there’s not a whole lot I need actually. SO no shopping for me (except perhaps a book at the airport… but there’s room in my bag for that, I swear!).

I see two major benefits to travelling this light:

  1. It’s light! I don’t have to drag along a heavy suitcase. and the backpack is not heavy on my shoulders, which means I can carry my entire luggare around without any physical discomfort or hassle.
  2. The less luggage I bring, the less fuel the plane has to use to carry me to and from London. (And yes. I am fully aware flying at all is a major environmental set-back, but still, by travelling light, I am making a difference. Minute, but better than nothing.)

Are you a fellow light traveller?

Podcast 44/52 – are you into Poof?

Publicerad den av
1

On Tuesday me and my friend Michael Sillion will attend Seth in London, a full day Q&A session which he announced a month and a half ago. I was quick to let him know that I was interested, and once the tickets were released, I jumped at the opportunity to grab a 2-for-1-deal. Hence Michael joined me, which makes me very happy.

So, I figured, why not warm up with a podcast of Seth. This one is from Good Life Project, where Jonathan Fields and Seth Godin talk about any and every thing possible, and, as always, it’s a very enriching conversation to listen in on. You can actually watch the conversation as well, but I prefer podcasts actually!

I’ve listened to this episode probably five or six times by now, and one of the best parts of it is when Seth talks about Poof! (Around 16 minutes in on the conversation if you want to go there directly.)poof

I am not sure I am so good at making things go (deliberately) Poof, and I’ve definitely gotten a lot to think about since listening to this (over and over again).

Are you like Seth, into Poof?

 

An epidemic of harshness

Publicerad den av
2

I used to have an inner dialogue akin to a mix of Hitler/Mao/Stalin, or that’s how I remember it, anyway. I don’t anymore. The voices of dictators inside myself, is a thing of the past. I can’t pinpoint an exact time when they stopped, but gradually, over these past 10 years or so, their once overpowering and loud voices got more quiet, less frequent, and nowadays, I basically don’t hear them, at all.

I know the moment where I realized I didn’t have to believe them, didn’t have to act out their orders. It’s probably 9 years ago, by now. Coming for a session with my therapist, I didn’t have cash with me, to pay for the session. I berated myself, prostrated myself, viciously whipped myself with verbal lashes. So ashamed of myself, stuck in the feeling that I was disrespectful to my therapist. She looked at me, astonished at what she saw. Asked ”Why are you so hard on yourself?” and I gasped ”You don’t have to be?”. ”No”, she said, continuing, ”I would have just said ‘I didn’t bring cash today, I’ll bring it next time”.

Flabbergasted, my only respons was ”You can do that? You don’t have to whip yourself into submission for failing to live up to your own standards?”.

That was a pivotal moment in me, discovering myself.

Since then, I’ve come such a long way that the dictators rarely, if ever, let their voice reverberate within my head.

I quite often recount this story with coach clients, because I’ve found most people recognize this. All but one client, actually. And I’ve had coaching conversation with hundreds of people by now.

All.

But.

One.

Of those I’ve brought this up with, recognize this in themselves. harshnessThat has led to me to the conclusion that there is a raging epidemic, spread across the globe, across the human population. At least within the Western hemisphere. An epidemic of inner harshness. A harshness that makes us behave internally in a manner we would never want to expose another living being to.

And the problem with this epidemic is that it’s all but invisible. Because when I see someone that I really admire, I compare my inside (my inner climate) with someone else’s outside. Having no clue. Absolutely none, as to what that person’s inner dialogue sounds like. He/She might look like he/she has it all together, on the outside – but what goes on within?

In, and of, heaven

Publicerad den av
Svara

Today, in a coaching session with my coach, I found myself in heaven. Cuddled up in my armchair, with Carla on SKYPE, talking, listening, reflecting, and most of all, being.

Sharing the sensations of the past months, the conversations, meditations, insights. Experiences. And wham – I’m there. In heaven. In the softest of places, simply being. My voice, in communion, getting more gentle, soft-spoken. Pulse, breath, all slow down, calmness reigns. Indicating the state I’m in.

To meditate on a pinprick of light, in the middle of my chest. A pinprick of pure light, love, compassion, happiness. A pinprick which slowly grows, filling up every cell of my body, going further, beyond the physical boundaries of my body. Slowly expanding, with every intake of breath, pausing on every exhalation. Inhalation, expansion. Exhalation, stillness.

pinprick

Expansion – Stabilization. Expansion – Stabilization. Expansion – Stabilization.

The pinprick grows, meter by meter, kilometer by kilometer, country by country. I envision my beloved friends and family, spread across the globe, bathing in the light, love, compassion, happiness stemming from deep within my chest. Love guides me to them.

Soon, it’s as if I am at the crest of this wave, the wave of expanding light, love, compassion, happiness. I am in it, as well as of it. Experiencing and witnessing, all at once. Not in one spot along the rim of the ever-expanding pinprick, but all over it. In every single point, in all dimensions.

I see the Earth, this blue and green planet, then the moon comes into focus, followed by our solar system. The pinprick engulfing the Milky Way, while I continue to ride its crest, expanding into another galaxy, and another, and another…

The sensation of falling backwards, into infinity, with all that is, right in front of me. Being in it, as well as of it. I am it. Infinity. Heaven. On Earth. All of universe is right there, within me. I can feel the sensation, pulsing, pulsing, slow, but steady. A pulse felt in all that is me, today, now. My skin, hair, eyes, all of my inner organs, my heart, brain, all my senses.

It’s as if I’ve gained an extra sense. There’s sight, sharper than before. But known to me. There’s smell, hearing, taste. Touch. Nerve endings tuned in to notice minute details. All known to me, since eons. But richer, sharper, more attuned to actually performing to their fullest capacity.

And then. Something else. Universality. A sense which enriches all the other senses, a heightener. Boosting, maximizing. And then some.

I am in, and of, the universe.
I am not merely human, I am it all.
All that breathes, all that lives, but more, still more.

I am stardust.
Stellar wind blows through me.
I am in, and of, heaven and earth, and all that has ever existed.
And I am not alone. This is what we all are, where we all are.

Known to some, unknown to many. Including me. Up until very recently. But not anymore. Once experienced, it cannot be un-experienced. Like reading. Internalized, forever a part of me.

I just never knew. Wasn’t ready for it before. But it was always there. Within.

I know this. There is no need to search for heaven. It’s already within you. Open up to it. That’s the only thing to do, nothing else, because when the student is ready, the teacher appears.