Gifting me a morning ritual

Gifting me a morning ritual

October 13, 2020
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The bottom line:
Building a morning routine, where I feel thrown off my game when time does not allow for it to run its course in full, and realizing that this morning routine, or perhaps even ritual, is a gift. A Gift. To me.

Getting thrown off my new morning routine where I wake up, of my own volition, at six am. Get up, pee, go downstairs to fetch phone and iPad, standing in the kitchen doing a slow morning Seven of pelvic movements, waiting for the kettle to boil while checking my email and doing a quick scan of SoMe (now that the ayurvedic challenge is over, no more morning videos to peruse). Armed with electronic (writing) devices, a cup of warm water, I head upstairs, doing my Wim Hof breathing regime (normally in bed, today I lay down on the floor, pulling the duvet off the bed, to keep me warm), before climbing back into bed, to do my morning writing while drinking the warmed up water.

Once I’ve posted my writings, somewhere or other, I head for the basement bathroom, do my regular morning Seven (lately, a lot of Lindy hop-practices, which is akin to cardio, let me tell you) before jumping into a two minute-cold shower, before getting dressed, ready to meet the world.

By this time, it’s nine o’clock, give or take, and I realize how anything scheduled by me before nine throws me off my game. Off my writing game, to be precise, because the other things I do, regardless. Not necessarily in the order described above, but more or less.

Yesterday I’d scheduled a CoachTalk at 7:15 am, and then the day simply rolled on… never granting me (me never granting me, that is!) the time and space to sit down and do my (deep dive) writing. And somehow the entire day feels slightly off.

Yesterday, I had a Zoom-call scheduled at nine am, in conjunction with the Bonnie Bliss Yoni Club-training I’m taking online right now, and I got into sharing something I will be writing about in my deep dive, so in a sense, I got ”it” out of my system, but… it’s still not the same.

There’s something to the writing that provides both an edge (the permanence of it? The shareability of it? The way my words take on a life of their own? The dance with fear at being rejected, shamed and shunned for writing what I am writing?) and an expanded opportunity for learning. When I write, I explore. It truly is a deep dive, regardless if I am deep diving into a topic (shame) as I am at the moment, of if it’s ”just” writing because I want to, because I blog daily (No. Not at the moment. Unless the sharing in a small online-community can be called blogging, which, in a sense, it actually can.), because it’s a habit I’ve gotten accustomed to.

The way I write, I learn.
About me. About you. About the world.
There is discovery and surprise, there is exploration and aha-moments, there are connections made visible that have previously eluded me, there are new questions arising.

Waking up today, I realized… I need to stop giving away my mornings to others. I want to give them to me. I want to honor the precious opportunity they are to me, and be much more deliberate in when I schedule something else during this time. Sometimes, it’s a necessity. I have clients requiring my presence at certain times. I have commitments to others giving me an opportunity to prioritize, making me truly look at how I spend –and value!– my time. But if I am to give my mornings away, it’s going to be for very good reasons.

Because I haven’t, ever honestly, been so aware of the need to value my time, as I was today, waking, and realizing how my entire system longed for my morning routine, the very same one I did not gift myself with yesterday.

#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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Beyond the bend?

May 10, 2016
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Summer has arrived in Sweden, and quite abruptly at that. Feels like it was winter, more or less, way too long, and then all of a sudden the weather drastically shifted and it’s now warm enough to go with bare legs and feet, soaking in the sun and warmth. Had been inside for too much of the day, so having a scheduled CoachWalk with a client to look forward to this evening made me very happy. Really enjoyed the evening walk in the park.

CoachWalks are my favorite way of coaching, I must admit. Out strolling, sauntering slowly along the gravel paths, passing trees in bloom, nettles rising above the old stems of last year, birds chirping merrily and the sun warm in the face. Something happens then. Or… more like it: something can happen then, something quite out of the ordinary. Last CoachWalk we took, all of a sudden we were laying down in the grass to look at an imaginary projection of a problem, getting beneath it, looking at it from below. Quite literally… the problem vanished, dissolved into thin air, as it were.

beyond the bend

Never really knowing what might lie beyond the bend, we walk on, sometimes in engaged conversation, now and again in comfortable silence. Once in a while we stop and talk, intensely, waving arms around, picking up a stick and drawing in the gravel to make a point, clarify, illustrate. With a curious and gentle disposition, a lot can be discovered, and better yet, uncovered, when you put one step in front of the other, and walk on. Because you never really know, what might lie beyond the bend, do you?

Feel free to get in touch with me, if you are ever in the neighborhood of Malmö and would like to experience a CoachWalk. If you’re not geographically close, a CoachTalk works just as fine! 

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