sun

Feel the water

Feel the water

May 26, 2020
/ / /

Bike to the ocean.
Sit down on the bench close to the pier.
Undress. Slowly.

Pull out the sarong from my backpack, the sarong that’s always and already there, in case I feel like taking a cold bath – which, I am happy to report, it still qualifies as (my personal limit is below 14 degrees C).

Put away my phone and my glasses, use a scrunchie to gather up my hair in a bun, and walk towards the stairs, down into the water.

Sun is shining.
Hardly any wind.

Step by step, not fast, not slow, just an even pace, I walk down the stairs into the water. Face the sun and start to swim, all the while counting. Upon hitting 300 I turn around and start to swim back to the pier, but when I reach it, I stay in more. Longer. Don’t want to get out. Not yet. Haven’t had enough.

Turn to face the sun again, and with every cell of my body, every fibre of my being, I feel the water slowly lapping against my chest.

Continuing to count, I take another shorter swim, before I finally, upon hitting 800, get out of the water, realizing it’s about time to head on off to my friend for the Q&A I was to moderate an hour later.

14 minutes. Give or take.
15 degrees in the air.
11,5 in the water (I have my sources).

There’s nothing quite like it.

Read More

A text that is not yet done.

May 16, 2020
/ / /

Started to write this long post on victim vs perpetrator given a recent case making the Swedish media, of a well-known man getting caught buying sex, which is illegal in Sweden.

But that text is not done.
Not ready to publish.
Perhaps I weaved too many threads into it, making it more of a mess than anything coherent?

I will let it be, for a day or two, revisiting it to see what it wants to become. What the message really is. For me. And perhaps, for you.

I think I will step outside instead, letting my bare feet meet ground, soil, grass, pebbles, twigs and sticks. Letting the wind blow my hair, the sun warm my skin, the smells remind me of springs of years gone by. Listening to bird-song and rustling leaves, feeling my own heartbeat, steadily ticking away, grounding myself. In life.


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

Just Being.

March 14, 2020
/ / /

Completely blank calendar.
24 hours of naught.
That does not happen often, and the only reason it happened today was the cancellation of my trip/course this weekend.

Not a cloud in the sky, almost no wind, 6 degrees Celsius and the warmth of the sun.

Slow morning in bed, reading, tindering with an interesting bloke, did my morning seven’s (two of them) before my three-round Wim Hof-deep breathing, breakfast. A 15 km bike ride, left-over lunch of the loveliest Jerusalem artichoke soup and now… headed outside for some gardening.

Dry leaves, withered stalks.
To be gathered and collected, tossed in the garden bin.
Filling up a few bags of firewood to bring inside, for those sure-to-come stormy and cold spring evenings. And if not… it will be very ready to burn come the fall dito’s.
Perhaps a bit of weeding as well, even though very few plants that are considered weeds in my garden.

Just Being.
Being.

Read More