breathing

Approaching the event horizon from the unknown

Approaching the event horizon from the unknown

February 25, 2020
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There’s that blank stare… from me. Looking out. At nothing. Past everything, into the void beyond, the unknown, into the depths of that which contains multitudes…. but it’s as if I simply cannot see. As if I am blind. As if I am unhooked, uncoupled, unconnected. A single entity floating around in space, all alone, with nothing to latch onto.

What to write about?

Writer’s block doesn’t exist.

Nah.
True.

And yet… sometimes I have to prompt myself with precisely what I do now. Not knowing what to write, having no clear sense of purpose, no ideas popping, eagerly awaiting being put down on paper… so I just start typing. Seeing what comes out.

Sometimes utter rubbish.
Sometimes surprising myself, with content or form.
Sometimes publishing it.
Sometimes not.

But many times, just the simple fact of putting pen to paper (finger to keyboard. I have to come up with a more poetic and beautiful analogy to the pen to paper-one, can you help?) eases me out of that void, into the world of the living, pulling me back from the depths of despair (slight exaggeration, but it’s a lovely alliteration!) and having me stumble onto the event horizon, from the other way, as it were. Normally I come onto it from the known, slowly, gently, softly, inch by inch getting closer to it. Not so now. Now, it’s more as if I am hurled around in space, and there it is, the event horizon, the semblance of things I do no visible beyond the edge, I’d better grab a hold of it. Tossing out my arm, making contact with the event horizon, getting my breath beaten out of me from the impact.

There.
Breathing. Gently. In. Out. In. Out.

Coming from that place, the unknown, the void within (without?), the event horizon has a surprisingly solid feel to it, in contrast to when I ease onto it from the known.

Shifting perspectives (and this is what #tankespjärn is for me) provides that opportunity.
Opening up for an exploration of new vistas, new experiences, new possibilities.

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The time in between the seconds

May 29, 2019
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The spaces in-between.
I have grown to love them.
To understand, value, cherish and seek them.
Rejoicing in them, when able to. Which I am not all the time. Far from it.
But as with most things… the more I am with the spaces in-between, the better I am at rejoicing in them, revelling in them, revering them.

Rectify. 
A series I just started watching.
Daniel is asked what was real to him during his years in prison. He replies:

The time in between the seconds

The in-betweens.
There they are.

Synchronicity in the making.
I’ve had a day filled with in-betweens. At a customer, all day, participating in a quality audit. Responding to questions when needed, keeping notes of what was being done and said. And in-betweens. Loads of them. Just sitting there, waiting (resting in the tranquility of it!) for the inspectors to finish reading, to come with the next question or request.

On the bus home, I watched episode two. And then… towards the end; this. A reminder!
A reminder for me, to make room for the in-betweens. Those moments of doing nothing. Waiting for the tea kettle to boil. For the final spin cycle on the washing machine to come to an end. For the red light to turn to green when out and about on my bike. For the sun to settle.

Not having to fill every moment with action – checking email, social media feeds, messages, or any number of other activities that have come to take the place, the space, of the in-betweens – but rather… simply… being? Breathing? Like balm to the soul.

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From me to me

January 31, 2018
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from me to meThe other day I took part in a conversation amongst precious souls, my circle of Camp fire sisters, that meet up about once a month over Skype. As always, deep connection took place, as we each shared what wanted to be heard.

Afterwards, Mayke sent us all this amazing piece of writing, spurred on by the virtual camp fire-conversation. I asked her if she could not release this text into the world, and if she didn’t have a place for that, that I’d love to feature her as a guest blogger here. So, without further ado, I give you:

From me to me, by Mayke Vullings

Some words, from me to me:

Today I am

In a child’s carousel

Twirling around in endless circles

The laughter long gone

Loudspeakers on full force

Bombarding my ears

With questions I cannot answer

Shouting my inadequacies for everyone to hear

Blocking deep truth I lost touch with

I am lost

In thoughts who keep me prisoner

Dictating a perspective

That leaves no space to breath

Now frantically looking for a way out

 

My friend whispers: that is the way in

Become your own Mum

Force yourself up

And go to the stove

Heat the water

Pour yourself a hot cup of tea

Sit down wrap your hands around the cup

Follow the steam with your eyes

As thoughts vapouring in thin air

walk to the couch

Cuddle into a blanket

Next to you a bottle of silence,

Your glasses and a good book to read

Breathing, breathing

Staying on this island as long as you need

 

Somewhere in the room

You know for sure –

are your ballet shoes

patiently waiting for your return

to step into

start dancing your life

again & again & again

recognizing yourself in the now

for who you truly are.

 

Amsterdam, 29th of January 2018

Mayke

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