boundaries

Friction

Friction

August 20, 2019
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Synchronicity. Around… Friction.

On Akimbo.
In a conversation with D and C, a conversation you just might be privy to listening in on one of these days.
With my campfire sisters, as well as in my reflection with D on that conversation we had.

And now.
As my final words of the third Mastermind-session (of 13 total) that we just wrapped up, me and my four participants.

Friction.
It makes the world move.
Without friction. No cars. No bikes. No nothing really.

We would possibly be sliding around haphazardly… might be fun. But it’s not what we have. Because we do have friction.

We even have two kinds.
There’s friction. And then there’s Friction with a capital F. Life-giving. The Friction that makes me grow, rather than just wear me down.

There’s form. And the formless.
For some, oh it’s a stretch to conform to form. Rules. Boundaries. That’s where the friction is at. Play with it. Work it. Use it. See what happens within the form.

For some, so the opposite. The formless, the vast expanse of endless possibilities. Nothing to hang onto, no given starting point. That’s where the friction is at. So play with that. Work it. Use it. See what happens within the formless.

Dance between them.
The Friction and the Frictionless. Between that which is such a stretch and that which is easypeasy.

As you dance – the event horizon for you and your relationship with the form and the formless will shift. Transform. Expand, ever onwards. Might it even constrict?

Yeah. I think it just might. And then… another transformation. Something born, which was always and already there, within you, you just had never opened that specific door within before.

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How to relate to limits?

April 20, 2019
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How to relate to limits? My limits.
The boundaries that serve me versus the ones that stop my personal expansion as a human being.

A recent meeting that blew me out of the water, making me shatter my self-made box of limiting stories and beliefs. Writing about it. In that way that I write. Zoomed out and in at the same time, strangely impersonal yet enormously naked. I think? That’s how it feels to me. And that’s what matters, because, honestly, I have no idea what you pick up on, or not, how you react, or not. My style of writing is my style of writing.

So. Writing about it. Because that’s how I make sense of the world, of my world, how I learn and explore within myself. And yet. As I write, about this recent encounter, that has opened a new door to my universe, I cannot help but wonder… dare I? Dare I not dare?

To share or not to share, that is the question.

I’ve quite a few texts written that I’ve yet to share. Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t.

Will these texts I am currently writing move in with these unpublished texts, or join the world in full view, with the rest of my 2000+ blog posts?

And no. I am not one to believe that I have to share everything. With everyone. Not anymore… I did. For a period around the turn of the millennia, that’s just what I did.

And at the same time, I find vulnerability in sharing what it’s like to be a human being in this day and age, is something I am drawn to. Regardless if I’m the one doing the sharing, or you.

What I’ve come to know is that when I share something completely raw to me, it’s not a good idea to share publicly. With close friends absolutely, friends whom I know will not sympathize but empathize. Once healing is underway and I’ve got a healthy distance to whatever caused my wound, my sharing might be of great help for others, besides for me. Because when my wounds are not open, raw and causing me acute pain, others do not have to manage me and my current state, but rather, can focus on what my sharing opened within themselves.

Yet. It’s as if I’ve yet to arrive, at whatever/where ever I am approaching. So I pause my writing and check my Facebook feed. Stumble across a post, on leaky boundaries vs clear ones. Baaam! Scroll at bit more, and come across yet another post, on baring ones’ soul while being a vessel for creativity. Putting oneself out there, to public display, not giving a hoot about the expectations of others. Swop tabs to LinkedIn, and slam dunk, post number three on being honest with what I feel and need, as opposed to interpretations and judgments, is right there in front of me.

Synchronicity in the making.
But what’s the message? Really, what am I being told here?

To share? To not share?

Somewhere… there’s still a nagging doubt within.
If I pick at it just a little, pick at the doubt, what I find behind it, is fear.
Fear of what a few select people might say or think.

So I pick at that just a little, pick at the fear, and what I find behind it… is…?

Me.
Belittling myself as well as those few select ones.

Now… how or who is that serving?

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Boundaries?

September 14, 2016
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What do I want? What are my needs? What’s ok, and what is not ok, for me, right now? Am I speaking up, for myself? Am I allowing that silent voice within, the wisdom, to speak? Am I listening to it?

So many questions.
A lot of thoughts, feelings, emotions and beliefs.

But boundaries?

Not so sure about that.

No. That’s not true. I am sure about it.
And I can feel a bit of resistance to accept the answer. That’s why I tried to confuse myself, by writing “not so sure about that” even when I am.

Because I am not setting clear boundaries, as I haven’t fully delved into my needs, so I don’t know what those boundaries are right now. What is it I want? What do I need, right now, in order to be gentler to myself than I ever have been before?

Breathe.
Close my eyes.

Exhale and listen.
What wants to happen now?

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