promise

Betrayal occurs

Betrayal occurs

June 12, 2020
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Betrayal occurs when those who have power see the trouble and look away. Betrayal occurs when people break promises, hedge on vows of help, protection, speaking for, standing with, withdrawing from acts of courage and acting preoccupied, indifferent, unaware, and so forth instead.

– Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run with the Wolves

I haven’t finished reading this book yet.
I thought I would be done by now because I did finish the book part of it earlier this week, but then, I peeked at the notes. And was hooked.

Imagine.
A book where the notes section – you know, with minuscule font size, page upon page, referring to something you simply cannot be bothered to flick back through the book to find… – draws you in. Where it contains almost the same amount of marginalia-worthy, dog-ear-enticing phrases and pieces of information as the book part of the book. Like this stanza.

Betrayal occurs when those who have power see the trouble and look away. Betrayal occurs when people break promises, hedge on vows of help, protection, speaking for, standing with, withdrawing from acts of courage and acting preoccupied, indifferent, unaware, and so forth instead.

Have you been betrayed?
I have.

Have you betrayed?
Looked away? Broken a promise, hedged on vows to help, stayed silent, pretending to be busy with other things?
I have.

I think there’s not a person on earth who would answer these questions differently.
And I don’t know that that is something to strive for.

But getting conscious about it.
When I betray – or even better, when I am about to. Giving me an opportunity to n o t.

Betrayal occurs when those who have power see the trouble and look away.

Daring to witness me, call me out on my own bullshit.
To n o t look away.
Not from the trouble, and not from me, trying to escape – myself?


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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No. I love it.

May 7, 2020
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I have to say, those 30 minutes of daily gardening, have proven to be something that’s truly turned into a wonderful gift. For myself.

And I want to do it, but I don’t have to do it. It is a choice, one I’ve made, and I don’t have to remake it every day, but then again, if there’s neither room nor energy for gardening, then I will not beat myself up for skipping a day.

I know I am Champion of Runstreaks (2090 days of Seven-morning workouts in a row, is all the proof I need; not that I need it) and hence, the 30 minutes of daily gardening doesn’t have to do with that. But rather… ever since my ex-husband and I separated in the fall of 2016, the garden has fallen into greater and greater disarray, as he was the one who spent a lot of time tugging at weeds, cutting the miniature lawn and trimming the hedges. Last year when I thought to ask Mr D if he wanted to assist me in cultivating my garden I had also promised myself not to vacation away from home… which definitely isn’t how it turned out. Instead, I spent 10 days in Kenya and 12 days touring UK, Belgium and the Netherlands… not to mention working like crazy.

Orange = radishes. Blue = carrots. Green = spinach. Pink = leek. And the cherry blossoms scattered like snowflakes all over.

This year, I will spend my summer here. At home. Which is just what I want, and have wanted for a couple of years, and finally will have the opportunity to do. I made myself the promise to not leave home come the summer of 2020, and on account of the pandemic that’s a promise I can easily live up to… but hey, if I can find something positive in the current situation, that’s a good thing, in my view. So I won’t beat myself up over that either.

And I enjoy it.
Sticking my hands in the dirt. Sowing a row of carrots here, a row or two of radishes there. Watering the prepared beds, tugging at some weeds. Getting rid of last year’s rasp- and blackberry brambles, starting to attack the wild roses going rogue at the front of the house. 

Being bathed in the soft evening sunshine, listening to the birds chirping away. Now and again sharing a word or two with my lovely neighbors, or for that matter, passing seedlings back and forth across the fence. Sitting underneath the apple tree overfilled with blossoms, talking to and petting Pop the cat, coming to keep tabs on me.

All the while, supported and aided by Mr D, either here, in person, helping me dig, plant, prepare, telling me what goes where, and in what combinations. Or there, online, cheering me on when I send him a daily text with photos, sharing my daily gardening-session with him. 

I enjoy it.

No.
I love it!

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Feeding myself and my garden

April 30, 2020
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–The gardening. How’s it going?

–Why, thanks for asking, it’s going fine!

After making the Sunday-promise of 30 minutes of daily gardening for the upcoming week, coming home Monday and Tuesday evening after long busy days at the office, I immediately donned my garden garb, taking my basket of seeds and the rough outline of the garden, set the timer to 30 minutes, and got to it.

Sowing seeds.
Watering.
Nipping at a little something here, and a little something there.
Picking a bunch of dandelion flowers to dry for tea.

Loving it.
By the time the timer alerts me I’ve not wanted to stop, but with an empty stomach and other commitments, I’ve put the gear and garb away, eager for the next day. 

Today is Wednesday, and as the afternoon progressed, it started to rain. Windy. Chilly.
Biked home in insufficient clothing, not being prepared for rain, I arrived home wet, cold, and hungry. So I decided on having dinner with some borrowed gardening books for 30 minutes of garden inspiration rather than go outside.

This way of honoring my promise, but not limiting myself to physical labor, makes it feel sustainable. And I am already starting to ponder keeping the promise going after the week. After my 30 minutes of gardening, I feel refreshed, recharged, grounded. 

And you know what?
Feeding myself with inspiration is as important as feeding the garden itself with new soil, fertilizer, seeds and plants. 


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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