Kategoriarkiv: Personligt

New minimalistic record

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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?

An epidemic of harshness

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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

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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.

#FourFitChallenge

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Har framgångsrikt avslutat min vecka med utmaningen #FourFitChallenge. Tillsammans med (hittills) 1068 andra har jag valt att under en veckas tid enkom använda fyra klädesplagg (under-, tränings-, ytter- och och arbetskläder undantaget).

Så här står det på #fourfitchallenge-hemsidan:

FYRA PLAGG I EN VECKA PÅVERKAR MER ÄN DU TROR. 

Låt din garderob bestå av endast fyra plagg i en hel vecka. Undantaget under­kläder, tränings­kläder, ytter­plagg och arbets­uniform. Matcha fritt med olika skor och accessoarer. Vädra plaggen i första hand under veckan, tvätta om det behövs.

Börja vilken dag du vill, vilken vecka du vill, ända fram till den 30 november. Du sätter ditt startdatum för din Four Fit Challenge när du anmäler dig. 

VARFÖR?

Vi svenskar slänger ca 8 kg textilier per person och år. Kläder och annat som påverkat miljön negativt både när det producerats och kasserats. Så kan vi inte ha det. Utmana dig själv att tänka mer hållbart kring mode i höst. Återanvänd det du redan har och tänk igenom dina inköp. Shoppa och klä dig mer klimatsmart helt enkelt!

Den kallare årstiden har redan gjort sitt inträde, och då är min huvudsakliga klädsel jeans och en ullfleece från Ivanhoe of Sweden, och även om jag sällan går i samma tröja en hel vecka (har tre stycken i olika färger som jag normalt sett saxar mellan), så har det inte känts som en svår utmaning för mig.

day 1

#fourfitchallenge – Day 1

#fourfitchallenge - Day 2

#fourfitchallenge – Day 2

#fourfitchallenge - Day 3

#fourfitchallenge – Day 3

#fourfitchallenge - Day 4

#fourfitchallenge – Day 4

#fourfitchallenge - Day 5

#fourfitchallenge – Day 5

#fourfitchallenge - Day 6

#fourfitchallenge – Day 6

#fourfitchallenge - Day 7

#fourfitchallenge – Day 7

Som du ser, har svarta jeans, min Beata och en svart respektive vit långärmad topp utgjort stommen i min #fourfitchallenge. Till det en svart och en vit sjal, för att ge lite variation. Ser minst två vänner på listan över #fourfitters, och är glad över att jag gör dem sällskap. Hakar du på?

Jag läser mina skrivna ord högt

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Fast tyst. I mitt inre. När jag skriver.

Jag läser mina skrivna ord, under tiden jag skriver dem, fast tyst. I mitt inre.
Rytmen blir viktig. Allt viktigare. Tror inte jag skrev så här för ett år sedan, rytmiskt, i mitt inre, hör hur orden, meningarna, skiljetecknen hänger ihop. En paus här, ett mellanrum där. Allt för att möjliggöra något mer, något bortom orden. Där känslan kan förmedlas, och byggs, i dig, precis som den skapas i mig, när jag läser och skriver, skriver och läser, samtidigt.

Letar ord. Finner dem. Ibland. Ibland inte. Går vidare.
Läser alltid om innan jag publicerar. Men filar inte oändligt på mina texter, det gör jag inte. Ibland går de snabbt att skriva. Oftast tar det lite tid, fast inte dagar. En timme. Kanske två. Men då uppbrutet, annat hamnar emellan. Ibland är det riktigt bra, för texten växer, min avsikt tydliggörs, i mellanrummet jag ger mig själv då jag släpper taget om det skapade, för ett ögonblick, en stund, en timme, dag, vecka i sällsynta fall.

Ofta har jag kanske en rad att utgå från.
En podcast. Ett citat. En tanke som jag fångade i flykten, i syfte att skriva om den, utveckla den, sätta kött på benen. Ge den svartvita världen färg. Måla. Med ord.BoldomaticPost_Undrar-om-jag-med-skiljetecke

Jag är lite kluven dock. Skriver ju både på svenska och engelska. Inte medvetet, strategiskt. Mer slumpen som avgör. Det bara blir som det blir. Oftast är det orden som styr, känslan jag vill förmedla, och var jag bäst förmår göra det, utifrån min vokabulär.

Har nog aldrig tittat på hur jag skriver. Har bara skrivit. Lite intressant att notera hur jag – även i detta nu – läser orden högt, fast tyst, för mig själv. Tonfallet är viktigt.
Undrar om jag, med skiljetecken, radbrytningar, styckesindelningar, lyckas förmedla den melodiska rytm jag förnimmer i mitt inre. Vad förnimmer du?

Beauty surrounds us

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I don’t think I’ve ever experience the beauty of fall as I am this year. And I don’t think fall has gotten more beautiful – I think the change is in me. I’ve never been so aware, never taken the time, to look, to see the colors, the contrast, the smell, the vibrancy. The energy!fall love 1
I’ve become better calibrated. It’s like I’ve been fine tuned. My senses are functioning, on a whole new level. Whole heartedly.
I notice. I take it in. All of it.
For the first time, it feels as if I fully n o t i c e all the beauty that surrounds me.fall love 4

It’s been there before. Of that I am certain.
But it was never a part of my reality, in the way it is this year.
Because this year, my eyes have opened.
They take it all in, all that is, and always has been.
The texture, colors, smells, movement.
Wind. Sunshine. Dark clouds.
The heaven and earth.
fall love 5The withered hops in the allotment.
fall love 2

The horse chestnut leaves, glowing orange.fall love 7

The black walnut tree. The bark, the lichen, the leaves. And the fruits!fall love 6

The last holly hock, smiling at me, as I pass it. I have to stop. I ask if I may take its portrait. Of course, it tells me, smiling.
I smile back.fall love 3

It feels as if a view has lifted off my eyes. And my heart.
As I take it all in, I can feel myself expand, my awareness, love and gratitude for the beauty of the world fill me up, every cell of me.

Life.
I love it.
See it.
And live it.

Do you notice the beauty that surround you?

Podcast 43/52 – How are you?

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Guess what? I have a new podcast for you this week. At long last, you might think, perhaps getting fed up with On Being, Good Life Project and One You Feed, with a few others sprinkled on top these past 42 weeks. If that is so, today is your lucky day!

I stumbled upon ProBlogger a month or two ago, and have listened to a handful of episodes. If you are into blogging and want to expand your blogging skills, I would definitely recommend that you check out the entire podcast series from ProBlogger. But this episode holds value to each and every one of us, regardless if we blog or not.

Darren Rowse goes personal, and invite his listeners to do the same, truly asking ourselves the question: How Are You?

HowAreYouIt’s a question that invites an honest look at a lot of areas of life, perhaps all. If you’re up for it. Otherwise, pick one, and go deep.

Health? Diet? Exercise?
Love? Relationships? Friends? Family?
Parenting? Hobbies? Work?

As I ask myself How are you, in general I’ve never been so well, as I am today. As far as I know, I have my health, I eat better than ever, move about daily, even though, if I’m honest – there’s a nagging sense of wanting to be stronger and have more stamina. So there’s something to look into some more. Or. Perhaps I should just get on it, instead of looking into it… I mean. I know what it takes. Knowing myself, the best way to go about it, is to make a plan. Once I commit to a plan, it seems I don’t have a hard time sticking to it. So a plan it will be.

I listened to this podcast two times, back to back, so there is something about How are you that beckons me. It’s very easy to just breeze over a question like this one, especially since in many English-speaking countries it’s a greeting phrase, and not really meant to be answered honestly. Or? I wonder if I am?

Day 7 #NaJoWriMoPrompt: Who Inspires You?

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For today’s prompt, think about and honor the people (personal friends, family members, writers, singers, artists, spiritual leaders, speakers) who inspire you in any way. Write a list of those people, and if you have time, add a few sentences about how each person inspires you. Happy journaling.

I’ve done this before. Or I do this routinely, would be more correct to say. In the blog Christmas advent calendar counting down to Christmas last year for instance, I showcased many people who inspire me. And I regularly write on the blog, about people that inspire me in some way, both people I know and those I just know of. So perhaps, a challenge for me, would be to try to write about people I haven’t written (much) about before? Or, perhaps, I’ll try to stay close to home instead…

My maternal grandmother, my Momo –  So skilled with her hands, in many ways. Her paintings adorn my walls. She passed away many years ago, but thanks to her art, she’s with me in everyday life.

My niece Sara – Another artist. Yeah. There is something about artists that attract me, people able to create beauty with nothing more than a pen, paper and their own hands. But I can also have very deep conversations with Sara. I am inspired by her wisdom, and honored that she opens up to me, for us to have these conversations.

Malin, my bonus daughter – Curious on life, filled with questions, and often with a huge grin on her face. She is like liquid sunshine, able to light up a room with her mere presence.

Birgers dogMy maternal grandfather Birger – never ”too old to learn”. I remember finding this dog during one of my #cleanse4expansion-sessions. He emailed that drawing to me few years before he died, or wait… No, he painted it using Paint on his computer, printed it and sent it via snail mail, that’s why it’s signed by him! Anyway,  80+ and eager to learn to use his new computer. That’s inspirational to me. And what a gifted story-teller he was! When he got started he had us all in raptures, eager to hear just one more story.

Then there’s Me – I inspire me. Huh. Go figure. Didn’t have that one pegged what I started this journaling session. But it’s true though. I do inspire myself, especially when I notice how far I’ve come towards unveiling the one deep within, the self of pure potential that is there, inside, shining through more and more often. When I see how differently I act Today, compared to Yesterday, it makes me very curious about Tomorrow!

Sitting here, listening to some music, hubby cooking dinner in the kitchen, reminiscing about my grandparents who have long since passed away, but also on the younger ones on this list. And then there is me. In the middle. A bit farther on the Journey we call Life than Malin and Sara, but with a long way to go before hitting old age. Aware of the links between us all, how I am connected to the past and the future, while being in the present.

I close my eyes. Exhale. And relax into gratitude. Gratitude for life, for awareness, for the sense of immense connection to all that is. Realize, there’s inspiration all around and within me. It’s abundant. I just have to look for it!

Ellen Langer talks about mindfulness as the act of noticing new things, and suggested looking at your spouse with the intent to find five things about them that you’ve forgotten about, that have faded into oblivion, into everyday ordinariness, in a way that makes you just not see it anymore. She suggested your spouse would come to life again in front of your eyes, rekindling a bit of the wonder you felt towards them once upon a time.

I just saw that inspiration is the same. As I sit here, I become aware that most people are inspiring to me. There’s always something inspirational. Just as I could probably find something really annoying about most people, I can find something about them that inspires me. *haha* Guess which one will make me feel better? I’ll choose the act of noticing things that inspire me any day, rather than going on a quest for annoyance.

What about you? Inspiration? Where? Who? What?
Do you actively look for and notice it in your life?

 

 

Skriv-retreat inbokat!

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Har under ett år eller så stått i funderingar kring att boka in mig på ett skriv-retreat nånstans. Gärna ett ställe i skön natur och med lite halvkass (eller obefintlig) uppkoppling. Bara vara. Skriva. Med dator och lite juste toner i bakgrunden, och sen… inget mer.

Jag. Datorn.
Ett blankt papper. (Datoriserat dito vill säga.)
Skriva. Skriva lite till. Och kanske ta en promenad runt knuten innan jag sätter mig tillrätta och skriver ytterligare lite till.

Tänker inte så mycket mer än ett dygn. Kanske två.
En får ju börja nånstans, tänker jag.
Har aldrig – jag säger: a l d r i g – åkt iväg på ett skriv-retreat.
Men ju mer jag skriver, desto mer pockar det på att skriva mer.

Innan jag började blogga så skrev jag mycket dokument, kvalificeringsprotokoll och -rapporter, kommunikationsplaner, kravspecifikationer, instruktioner och mycket annat. Har mången gång bortförklarat det där lite grann, då både bror och far min skriver böcker och mycket annat, med att ”jag har kanaliserat min kärlek till orden till mitt dokumentskrivande”.

Men nu, när jag bloggat i dryga tre år, så inser jag vad jag gått miste om under alla år då jag inte skrivit, för mig, utan enkom för jobbets skull (som projektledare och valideringsingenjör inom Life Science är det inte direkt några litterära underverk som författas, det kan jag gå i god för).

Ju mer jag skriver, desto mer älskar jag det.
Ju mer jag skriver, desto mer ser jag hur mitt språk utvecklas, blir allt mer mitt eget, min egen igenkänning i mina texter växer, dag för dag, blogginlägg efter blogginlägg. Och i takt med min växande lust och kärlek till skrivandet, sammanhangen, bilderna som målas i ord och skiljetecken, växer lockelsen att bara få grotta ner mig i skrivandet ett dygn. Eller två.

retreatOch vet du? Jag har tom en plats för en tilltänkt skriv-retreat tillgängligt. Av bästa slag, avskilt, i underskön natur, med skogen runt knuten och utlovat middagssällskap.

Jag menar – vad väntar jag på? Tja. Bra fråga. Har bara inte fått tummarna loss. Men så idag kom frågan: När kommer du? Och istället för att dra på det, så bläddrade jag igenom kalendern. Tjockt fram till nyår. Men vecka 2. Kanske. Kanske!

Så nu är det avsatt ett par dagar för skrivande i januari, och bara att lägga in de preliminära datumen i kalendern gjorde något med mig.
En känsla. Av frid. Av längtan. Av lust.
Snart. Bara jag. Datorn. Ett blankt papper.
Vad månde bli av detta?

Dissolving into the infinite

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I sit on the sofa, with D in front of me. He just arrived, as we had agreed the day before. He said ”I noticed a resistance, like my timing was off?” and yes… he was so right. I had four more hazelnuts I wanted to munch down, before we got started. Felt a bit embarrassed at myself, chewing, chewing, chewing. As he raises the slightly off-vibes, immediately I drop into the NOW, and realize, here is a person who sees so much more than that which is visible using only the eyes. An hour long therapeutic process awareness experience commenced, widening me, to the extent that I felt I was close to being without boundaries – so far outside of my own body, it’s almost scary. But just almost. I would not trade that experience for anything in the world.

Being seen. Held. Loved.

Tears and laughter.

Deep anguish, as well as the most divine experience of slowly dissolving into the infinite, that which is me, and outside of me, ‘til the end of spacetime…translucent

I don’t know how to describe what D leads me to experience, but it’s something other than anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s going within, while simultaneously going out, far and wide, reaching all that is, has been and will be.

When we are done, and I’ve landed again, somewhat at least, within the confines of my own body, there is a translucent feeling to it, to me. I am tired. Like having run a marathon… or so I imagine, since I never have.

Time disappeared as we sat opposite each other on the sofa. All that was, was all that is. All. And nothing. At the same time.

I saw more of me.
Saw those that came before me, the generations upon generations of women who have given birth to babies, who in turn bore babies, and somewhere along the line this resulted in my mother giving birth to me. And me giving birth to my daughter.

About holding it in…. or not.
The pivotal moment in time when the path ahead, for the women stemming from my womb, going back all the way to the womb of my First Mother, shifts, no longer carrying the weight, the burden, of judgement and inner harshness, concealed within. Letting it out into the world. Being, perhaps, created by those who cannot stand to see it, visibly, so used to it being concealed. Cringing from the physical aspects of it, when it is recreated outside, rather than sneakily hidden underneath the skin, the flesh, deep within our soulbodies. So much easier to ignore, pretend it’s not existing, turning it into something that-we-must-not-name…

About the jagged sensation of Worry.
And the much softer and huggable Concern.

Running a gauntlet.
Not because of the session itself, but because that’s what I have been doing, inside myself, for so long. So long I almost cry thinking about it. And cry I did. Oh, how I cried. For what has been. And what might be.

Dream-paralysis.
Lethargy.
Heavy. So heavy I cannot even flutter an eyelid. Impossible to move.
And yet… the ability to move is there. I choose not to. But why? Why?

Tired.
Oh, so tired, from running that gauntlet.
Feeling so alone. Absolutely alone, with no assistance… and then D reaches out his being to me, and hold me with his eyes.

Crying, desperately. But for once, sharing the burden of my pain, not alone in it, not having to carry it all alone. D is there, helping me carry… and I can imagine what it would feel like, to let go of all the responsibility that is not mine to carry, that I have been lugging around, for eons of time… believing that I should? That I would have no value unless I took it all on?

Oh. Be gentle. I am still learning. Stumbling about on earth, doing the best I can, failing miserably at times, exultingly successful other times. And meanwhile, putting myself through that gauntlet, over and over, a never-ending story.

Or? Might my time as a gauntlet-runner be coming to an end? Now that I’ve seen it, experienced it, become aware, so aware, excruciatingly painfully aware of what I’ve been internally putting myself through, out of… what? Fear?

Pure. Innocent.
Might I be? Am I allowed to be? To just Be? Aware?
Letting go of all that has been, being reborn. Like Phoenix, reborn from the fire, rising from the burning embers, flapping it’s wings and flying off… Being, Aware, and only carrying theweight of the responsibility that is Mine to carry. Letting the rest burn off, turn to ashes in that fire.

Liberated.
Jivanmukta.

As I write this, it’s there once more. The sensation. Dissolving into infinity.
At least, I feel it again, I revisit it as I write. I close my eyes, and it is within me. The liberation, experiencing the moment that is what is, all that ever has been, and all that will ever be. In one single point. Now.

Have I ever had an experience as humbling as this?