Search Results for born to run

I was all I had.

I was all I had.

October 13, 2017
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in Tip
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BoldomaticPost_I-was-all-I-had”Whatever its results, the California trip would have a lasting impact on me. I got to see the country. I came up against some real talent and held my own, but the band that took us out at the Family Dog stayed with me. They had something we didn’t, a certain level of sophisticated musicality. They were better than us and that didn’t sit well with me. It’s not that I didn’t expect to come up against superior talent; that happens, it’s the way God planned it. I was fast, but like the old gunslingers knew, there’s always somebody faster, and if you can do it better than me, you earn my respect and admiration and you inspire me to work harder. I wasn’t afraid of that. I was concerned with not maximizing my own abilities, not having a broad or intelligent enough vision of what I was capable of. I was all I had. I had only one talent. I was not a natural genius. I would have to use every ounce of what was in me – my cunning, my musical skills, my showmanship, my intellect, my heart, my willingness – night after night, to push myself harder, to work with more intensity than the next guy just to survive untended in the world I lived in. As I sat there in the back, I knew when we got back home, there would have to be some changes made.

Truth be told, ”I” is all that all of us have. I have me. You have you. And yeah, of course, we also have each other, but if I don’t show up for us, there won’t be an us. So: I am what I bring to the table. I am all I have.

Reading this excerpt from Born to run, it’s not surprising at all that Bruce Springsteen became the rock n roll legend that he has become. But I wonder – how many people don’t give themselves to the world, in the way Bruce has? What are we all missing out on, because people don’t value their ”I” enough, don’t see that their skills, intellect, heart and willingness, would give their onlyness to a world that needs it?

Inspired to continue blogging on the theme from the #blogg100-challenge in 2017 I give you:
The book ”Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.

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#blogg100 – Carefully protected delusions.

June 5, 2017
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”You always sound better inside your own head and in your dreams than you do in the cold light of the playback room. There, the way you truly sound initially lands on you like a five-hundred-pound weight. Inside your head, you’re always a little better of a singer, a little better of a guitarist and, of course, as with the layman, a little better-looking. Tape and film have no interest in the carefully protected delusions you’ve constructed to get through your day. You just have to get used to it.”

delusionsWhen it comes to how I sound, to myself, physics come into play, because the sound will of course sound differently to me, as I am speaking and singing, when it comes through the spaces of my body, the caverns of my skeleton, constituting the sounding-board that is me; and when it doesn’t. When I hear my self played back to me from a recording, the sound i s different, because then my own voice only comes to me through the normal route for outside sounds, making it into my awareness.

But when it comes to my looks… I don’t know. Something else happens. Or? Maybe physics has the answer there as well? As the perspective I have looking down at my body, automatically has me looking down at myself, somehow elongating me, I am always so surprised to see my mirror-reflection; much shorter and chubbier that what I look like from ”up here”. Makes me wonder though – is the same true also for really tall people? Do you also become surprised at how short you look in the mirror?

Regardless, the carefully protected delusions are perhaps one of the reasons why it’s a struggle – sometimes, or honestly; oftentimes, at least for me –  to be at ease with my own body?

#Blogg100 challenge in 2017 – post number 97 of 100.
The book “Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.
English posts here, Swedish at
herothecoach.com.

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#blogg100 – Gone for good.

May 29, 2017
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”…and then something inexplicable happened. Something great and timeless and beautiful and confounding just disappeared. Something was gone… gone for good.”

Death can cause great, timeless, beautiful and confounding things disappear. These words are written to describe what happened in the room when Clarence Clemons died. But great, timeless, beautiful and confounding things must not be fellow humans. It can be other things, any thing, of great and timeless beauty; a thing that, one day, is simply gone.

The MeYouWe of a relationship that suddenly shifts, inexplicably, whenever Me or You shift to our core. Making the MeYouWe transform and turn into something else, a totally new entity. An unknown, making it’s first rounds of the world, not certain of its place in time and space. Wanted? Not wanted?

The desperation when Me or You try to hold on, try to make the ghost of MeYouWe rise again, take form, reappear as it were… even though that is not possible. Not once a Me or a You have made a profound transformation.

It. Is. Not. Possible.
MeYouWe as it was, is no more.
A new MeYouWe might emerge. Or not. Because BoldomaticPost_People-come-into-our-lives-fopeople come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime, as someone wise once told me – I’ve forgotten when and from whom I learned of it. The words have stayed with me, and have granted me release when looking back at long lost relationships, where for one reason or another, the MeYouWe that existed – suddenly, inexplicably – disappeared, however great, timeless, beautiful and confounding it may have been. Gone. Be it for a reason or a season, off it went.

Silently, within the confines of my inner dialogue, softly, I whisper to myself: people come into my life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. And I cannot know which, until it becomes apparent. Friends for life; suddenly no longer a part of my day-to-day existence, however unimaginable that notion might have seemed. With gratitude, warmth, and love for what was, I can let go, in order to let come… a new friend? A new love? Never knowing, and not needing to know, if this will be the commencement of a relationship of a reason – a season – or lifetime.

It will be. Either one. And that’s as it should be.
And then something inexplicable might happen…

#Blogg100 challenge in 2017 – post number 90 of 100.
The book “Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.
English posts here, Swedish at herothecoach.com.

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#blogg100 – A nothingness enters.

April 7, 2017
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”There is no evidence of the soul except in its sudden absence. A nothingness enters, taking the place where something was before. A night without starts falls and for a moment covers everything in the room.”

Bruce Springsteen writes about the death of The Big Man, Clarence Clemons. As I sit here, horrified by the events today – one wreaked havoc and caused deaths on a street in Stockholm this afternoon. Another the less public and Kafkaesque experience, of sitting in on a ”return dialogue” at the Swedish Migration Agency, where all I wanted to do was shout This is not dignified! We cannot treat human beings as if they are pawns in a chess game! – I remember Bruce words, that affected me so a few nights ago, as I read it.

me and ekmanA nothingness enters… and all I am left with is a resounding sense of regret. Regret at what we humans are capable of doing towards and against one another. Dehumanizing our brothers and sisters, and in one fell swoop dehumanizing ourselves at the same time.

I don’t want to become numb. So I ration my exposure to the horrors of the world. Knowing I show up more loving when I do. And yet. Sometimes it is hard to resist, the numbness alluring, like the song of the siren… But even more enticing is the love, the generosity, the human instinct to look after one another, to care for our brothers and sisters. With that sense of love and compassion, I go to bed, lucky me and my loved ones are safe, sending out a warm heartfelt embrace to those less lucky.

”There is no evidence of the soul except in its sudden absence. A nothingness enters, taking the place where something was before. A night without starts falls and for a moment covers everything in the room.”

#Blogg100 challenge in 2017 – post number 38 of 100.
The book “Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.
English posts here, Swedish at
herothecoach.com.

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#blogg100 – The beginnings of my song.

March 24, 2017
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I’ve just gotten started on the book Born to run by Bruce Springsteen, but I am already smitten. The way he writes, how he crafts words into sentences, carving them to paint pictures within my mind, the tonality and rhythm of the phrases making me rejoice, and sometimes even be completely awestruck.

Bruce Springsteen is a skilled word crafter, creating worlds within me. I should not be surprised, really. From the lyrics of his songs, I know this. But still – with letters turning into words, making up sentences, forming phrases and paragraphs, sometimes direct and extremely explicit, sometimes elusive and coy, leaving me to weave my own image of what is roughly sketched on the page – I am smitten.

“This is the world where I found the beginnings of my song.”

What an alluring sentence. Inviting me to think back, to reflect on the beginnings of my song. And is it a song? For me? For Bruce, oh yeah. Without a doubt. But for me? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it perhaps more of a story for me, a novel? I write. Now. And I am so happy I am. It’s one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever given myself, taking on the challenge of blogging daily for one hundred days, which now is a routine of mine that has me hooked. It is so thrilling. I truly enjoy it.

beginnings of my songAs I write this, sitting in bed, after a long day at a customer writing their quality manual (not exactly thrilling writing in the same way, I admit. But still – quite the challenge, and filled with opportunity for learning!), a smile slowly spreads across my face. My eyes twinkle and I sit here giggling, cherishing the experience of letting come. Not knowing what’s next – what my fingers will get up to, dancing on the small keyboard of my mini IPad, and then – all of a sudden, there it is. A sentence, a paragraph, a blog post, two or perhaps, even three. The beginnings of my song?

#Blogg100 challenge in 2017 – post number 24 of 100.
The book “Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.
English posts here, Swedish at herothecoach.com.

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#blogg100 – More important, why.

March 8, 2017
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“One of the questions I’m asked over and over again by fans on the street is “How do you do it?”. In the following pages I will try to shed a little light on how and, more important, why.”

Born to runAs a sucker for Why, already in the foreword to Born to run, Bruce Springsteen has me on the hook. I read a biography on him a few years ago and loved it. All of a sudden the man behind the artist stepped forward, claiming his place in all of it, and I was impressed. Mightly so, actually. So when I heard he was gonna release his own story, in his own words, I immediately ordered the book from my local library, and now it’w my turn. My turn to delve deep into the life of Bruce, as told by himself. And I look forward to finding out more about his Why. Because in a sense, I think it’s not so hard to figure out the How, is it? You play, play, play, and do all you can to get gigs, be seen, and so on. Busting your balls to get “the break” and when it comes, to be good enough to last longer than the proverbial fifteen minutes of fame allocated us all, according to Andy Warhol.

But the Why? What’s his Why? What’s the driving force behind Bruce, the musician, artist, performer extraordinaire, what are his reasons for doing what he does, and to keep at it, for years on end?

Seth Godin often talks about the pointlessness to How-questions. Asking Stephen King how he writes his books, what pen he uses, what paper, what computer, what hours in the day…. Finding out all those details still won’t take me an inch closer to “becoming the next Stephen King” will it? No. It won’t. One thing, and one thing only will give me even the tiniest of shots at becoming just that: Writing. Sitting down, every day, to write.

And it’s the same with Bruce’s How. It’s not the type of guitar, the program he uses to record sound tracks or the microphone he uses that’s the success factor. It’s that he – consistently and constantly – writes music, and plays it. Sitting down, every day, to write and play music. That’s it. And even though the driving force behind his desire, the urge, the calling, to do just that, might not in any way exist inside me – I know, that when people tell their stories, share their Why’s, something might resonate within me. A twitch, a vibe, something starting to strum, louder and louder, causing me to do what any successful person does, which is: Do my thing, over and over again. When I find something that pulls at me, won’t let go, if I let my energy flow in the direction of where it want’s to go, I will improve over time, I will learn, grow, expand, I will find success. In some way, shape or form.

And that leads me to another thought, about what Success actually means. To me. Not so sure it matters though, for me, or for Bruce? Maybe Bruce wanted to be a world-famous rock star, dreamt of Success, but I venture a guess that is not what drives him, at least not still. That cannot be his fuel today, can it, because he achieved that goal decades ago! There has to be another Why behind it, another reason for him continuing to do what it is he does. Perhaps it’s as simple as having found the thing he cannot NOT do?

#Blogg100 challenge in 2017 – post number 8 of 100.
The book “Born to run” by Bruce Springsteen.
English posts here, Swedish at herothecoach.com.

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Bruce – more than meets the ear and eye

September 8, 2016
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I love reading. I especially love reading biographies and have done ever since I was a child (or at least a teenager). So when I browsed the local library a few weeks ago, and spotted Bruce, I borrowed it and brought it home to read.Bruce

And what a book! It’s a well written biography, and despite the enormous amount of facts present in the book, it’s a joy to read, and doesn’t feel as information-laden as it actually is. But what really made me enjoy this book was Bruce himself. What a story. What a character. And jeez, what a skilled person, in his craft. Gifted musician, extremely (!!!) productive composer, and a very special singer, with a distinct voice.

Born to run is an album my older brother introduced me to when I was a kid, which was my entryway to Bruce Springsteen, and in a sense, I never got past it. I still think it’s the best he’s done, and Jungleland is, to this day, one of my absolute favorite songs. In my teens I listened to it over and over, drawn to the drama of the story, the varying sounds and atmospheres, and the powerful feeling of the entire song. But it’s been a while since I listened to it, so when I came upon the part of the book telling the story of the creation of that specific album, I immediately found it on Spotify, and started to listen. And did so with a new sensation, a deeper background, an understanding making me hear more in each song, picking up on the feeling behind, that which is sensed rather than heard.

While reading this book, a feeling grew stronger and stronger within me:
People are not what they seem to be. There’s so much more to each and every one of us, than what is apparent on the outside.

Even though this is not an autobiography, I got many glimpses of the person behind the public figure of Bruce Springsteen aka The Boss. And my reverie grew, page after page. For Bruce. His father, mother, grandparents. For people who tries to make the best of what they got, even when their best is far from sufficient… For the talented people walking alongside Bruce throughout his career. And for the audience, the listeners, the fans.

As I read, my reverie grew for human beings. We do try to make the best of what we get, and sometimes, it turns out absolutely magnificent. Sometimes, we end up with total rubbish, disaster, chaos and dread. Sometimes, the distance between a point of magnificence and a point of disaster is mere millimeters or seconds apart. The high’s and low’s of life. That’s what it is to be human. That is the Human Experience. And no one escapes it. Not me. Not you. Not Bruce. There’s no protection from it, thank God. Because without it, life would not be worth living. Life is made up of moments of high’s and low’s. And every single human being on Earth lives life according to this basic premise.

…..
Outside the street’s on fire 

In a real death waltz 
Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy 
And the poets down here 
Don’t write nothing at all 
They just stand back and let it all be 
And in the quick of the night 
They reach for their moment 
And try to make an honest stand 
But they wind up wounded 
Not even dead 
Tonight in Jungleland
…..

Since 2012 I have blogged over at herothecoach.com in a jumble of Swedish and English and this post is a sample of what I’ve been writing there over the years. As of 2016 I only write in Swedish there, and in English here. I hope you enjoy this #ThrowbackThursday, originally published here, and if you do, please subscribe to updates so you won’t miss out on future posts.

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Expanding worlds

September 3, 2017
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in Tip
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PrideI’m one rung down on the ladder of being most-priviledged-in-the-world being female instead of male, but besides that fact, I am priviledged. No doubt about it. And I am what I am – the color of my skin, the citizenship I’m born into, being a normative heterosexual – all of those things just are. I cannot undo then. But what I can do is try to widen my own perspective. I can get to know people who come from different backgrounds, who have different experiences of the world – good as well as bad – and most importantly, people who look at the world differently than I do. And I promise you, I can find totally different worldviews also in white, Swedish, normative heterosexual women, who on the surface are similar to me. But there’s so much more to what shapes us, than the surface of things. And both matter – both that which is apparent to the eye, and that which resided within our souls. Both help shape our individual realities.

On Being have a lot of podcast episodes that help me gain these different perspectives. That’s one of the main reasons why I love this show above all the other equally interesting podcasts I follow. But there’s something to On Being that just fits me like hand in glove right now.

And on this topic, giving me other perspectives upon life, the show with Annette Gordon-Reed and Titus Kaphar entitled “Are we actually citizens here?”. I’ve listened to the episode a few times, both the edited and the unedited version. And each time I listen to it, I gasp at some of the experiences that Annette and Titus share with me, and while it’s easy to feel like a total dimwhit for “just not knowing”, I try to keep my focus on what I learn; that which widens my world, and grants me a fuller picture of what it means to be human in this world.

On the same note, I’d like to ask you to read this blog post shared by a friend of mine after the Charlottesville-attack. In a similar way of listening to Annette and Titus, reading this trying to put myself in these situations, my world expands. And I wonder, if that is not one of the highest ideals I have for myself, and for my fellow humans – to grant ourselves the gift of expanding worlds.

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Blackfish – a must-see!

August 8, 2016
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Whale watching.
It almost didn’t happen, during our family vacation to Seattle and Vancouver. But I just couldn’t let the opportunity slip through my fingers. So it did. We went whale watching, all four of us. And what an experience!

Luckily enough we went out on a morning trip and it didn’t take long, once we’d come to the sheltered waters amongst the Gulf Islands outside Vancouver, before we saw the A-group of the J pod – if my memory serves me right, that is. No promises there! But then Google wipes my uncertainty away, and I can inform you that my memory serves me just perfectly, thank you very much.orca 1

We saw Granny, over one hundred years old (born in 1911) and the oldest known orca in the whole world, as well as a few of her grandchildren as well as a few of her great- and great-great-grandchildren, as well as a huge male that usually hangs around with Granny, according to the naturalist onboard the whale watching vessel from Steveson Seabreeze Adventures.

orca 4

We followed the A group for close to two hours as they headed for open sea, and it was awe-inspiring. Absolutely stunning. Looking back, it’s hard to grasp, that we’ve actually seen these majestic creatures in the wild.

And that’s the thing. That’s the only place where you should watch orcas!orca 3

I just finished watching Blackfish with my husband. Just two weeks after witnessing the grandeur of orcas, here we are, witnessing the horror that humans have inflicted upon orcas, from these waters. Quite probable there are orcas in captivity related to Granny and the rest of the orcas in the pods in the Puget Sound and Salish sea area.

What a tragic documentary, and yet, it’s a must-see! There are still too many orca’s in captivity, in surroundings that are just torture for these creatures who swim for miles any given day, out in the wild. You cannot build a compound that can provide what these animals need, it’s just not possible. They are too large, and move to quickly, and simply should not be kept in captivity. And then I haven’t even started to tell you about the social structure. The matriarch runs the show, with brilliance, grace, guts and a lot of experience. And they stick together, having developed a part of the mammalian brain that humans haven’t got. They are social, in a way that surpasses anything human beings are capable of.orca 2One of the baby orca’s that we saw, possibly the one sticking it’s head up above, is 1-2 years old, and has teeth marks over her body. You see, she was stuck during birth, and the older orcas grabbed her, with their teeth, and pulled her out, saving her life as well as the life of her mother. As I saw the pictures of her scarred back, shown to me by our guide, tears welled up in the corner of my eyes. Imagine the wisdom of Granny and her relatives, to know that they had to help this baby orca out of her mother, or else they would both perish.

The species is facing extinction, in part because of a lack of food, but also because as top predators, toxins amass in them, causing them to get sick and die. I had no clue, but there are resident orcas that feed on salmon and squid (such as the J-pod), transient that feed on sea mammals and sea birds, and yet a third type, offshore orcas, that feed on fish, sharks and sea turtles. J-pod, and the other pods in the Pacific Northwest, are the most studied orca’s on earth. Our guide told us, she (and I am assuming this goes for all the other naturalist guides onboard all the whale watching vessels) has to fill in a report for every sighting of an orca. Location, time and date, and numbers. She took plenty of photographs, and was thrilled at our luck. You see – this was just the 4th or 5th orca sighting in the area since the spring, because this years salmon run is so bad the pods have to stay further away, to be able to eat.

Facing extinction though, doesn’t mean they are extinct. Not yet. So there’s hope. Perhaps we can start with ending the ruthless captivity of way too many orca’s like Tilikum?

Granny is over one hundred years old. In captivity orca’s never live that long.

In captivity almost all male orca’s show dorsal fin collapse. In the wild, it’s almost not seen at all. And the dorsal fin is all muscle. In a grown male, it can be as large as 6 feet, that is, close to two meters. Imagine that!

There no record of an orca in the wild harming a human being. In captivity, there are too many tragic examples, as Blackfish shows all to clearly.

It is beneath us, as a species, to treat other sentient beings like this, is it not?

 

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Dissolving into the infinite

May 5, 2016
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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 unlike 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 ever 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 holds 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 the weight of the responsibility that is Mine to carry. Letting the rest burn off, turn to ashes in the 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?

Since 2012 I have blogged over at herothecoach.com in a jumble of Swedish and Englishand this post is a sample of what I’ve been writing there over the years. As of 2016 I only write in Swedish there, and in English here. I hope you enjoy this #ThrowbackThursday, originally published here, and if you do, please subscribe to updates so you won’t miss out on future posts. And by all means – get in touch with D if you are in need of the best listener there is!

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