write

opening the spirit within us to the spirit of what is

opening the spirit within us to the spirit of what is

October 26, 2020
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The bottom line:
”…opening the spirit within us to the spirit of what is.”
Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening, for October 26.

Blank.
Woke up.
Boiled some water, while doing a Seven with pelvic focus. Jiggling around, back, forth, a spine-wiggle or two. Or three. Side to side, in eights and in circles. Wakes my body up. Slowly and gently, I move on lighter feet to the bedroom.
Drag the covers from the bed, lie down on my sheepskins, with my butt up against the bed, feet on top, as if sitting on the side of the bed, back against the floor.
Do my Wim Hof breathing exercise, three rounds, simultaneously doing the Walkfeeling starter-move, opening up, aligning, getting hips and legs and back all working together.
Get up off the floor, drag the covers back into bed, bunching the pillows behind my back, I sit down, with iPad in hand.
Getting ready to write, I space off into the distance, not knowing what to write.
Nothing really comes to me.
Drink my now-lukewarm water, picking up The Book of Awakening, to read the entry of the day.

Blank.
So I do what I have a habit of doing.
This.
Writing down where I am, what I’ve done to get here, and all of a sudden.
There I am. (Or here?)
The fingers start to fly across the keyboard, dropping words upon words on to the screen.

Is there value in this?
For me? Yes. I think so. No.
I know so. Letting it, whatever it is for the day, flow out of me, holds value.
It’s an acknowledgment of being here. Of being present to what is. Observing myself, my surroundings, my emotional and mental state, I at once land here. Grounded. And at the same time, it’s freeing. Opens a door for my mind to go walk-abouting, skip-skipping along like a little child, uninhabited by the shoulds and musts of the day, of life. Simply being. Showing up and noticing what shows up. Responding to it. (The blankness. There. Here. And me, dancing with whatever and whoever comes knocking on the door.)

For others? Yes. I think so.
And No. I wouldn’t presume to say I know so. I do not k n o w if this is or can be useful to anyone else. What I do know is that me sharing what goes on within me, within this quirky brain and body of mine, often seems to resonate. Not with everyone (never my desire. I am not for everyone.), not even with many (how do I define many?) but most definitely with some. A few. (And those few. I do write, ship, share, for you. For me, yes. But also for you. Because this is another dance that I actively choose to engage in. The dance between me and the unknown. The unknowns?)

I have a few different Pages documents available to me when I plonk down in bed, ready for my morning writing. I have my so-called Morning Pages (which have never been what Julia Cameron describes, not for me. Most of what I put in that document shows up on my blog. Not ’for my eyes only’, because writing ’for my eyes only’ doesn’t seem to work for me. It’s not where the magic lies. For me.), a practice I started in 2016 (opened my Morning Pages from 2016, scrolling through parts of it. Oh my. There’s stuff there, unfinished stuff, snippets of me, that I never did return to, as intended. All of my Morning Pages documents are filled with them. Always thinking I’ll get back to them, ”finishing” it all. Never have. Never will?). There’s The Depth(s), containing my deep dive into shame, created on August 22nd, 2020, and at the moment, most often my go-to-starting point for my morning writings. Then there’s a recent addition, a document containing writings for a blog I just started, another blog. (An anonymous one.)

Sometimes, I know just what document to open, because I know what wants to come out fits specifically into one or the other of these documents. Other times, something comes out onto one document that doesn’t belong there. Like this.

I opened The Depth(s) today, and upon putting finger to keyboard, when blank came to me and I kept on, I knew, this text needs to be moved to my Morning Pages of 2020 because this text isn’t a part of the deep dive.

And I like that.
I even love it.
How I am adhering to the practice of writing, but not to having to write something specific, if something specific doesn’t come to mind.
Being open for what is, what wants to happen, what comes out of me. Through me.

A recent addition to the writings of my Morning Pages is the bottom line, which I can never write beforehand. It comes when all is done, all is out, and I look through it, trying to find the essence of the post. This is a practice that challenges me, in more ways than one.

First, to remember to do it.
Second, to actually find the essence. Not always easy.
Third, to capture that essence, in a sentence or two. Not always easy either.

Aaaaah.
Deep inhale, exhale.

Picking up The Book of Awakening, reminded of the entry of the day, I find it. The essence of this post. And with that. I am done. With writing. For now.


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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Do you know such a place?

October 4, 2020
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The bottom line:
Finding a place where you and your endeavors have optimal conditions for deep-diving, for discovery, for expansion, for exploration. Within or without. A place which helps you go deeper, burrow further, discover more, other, new. 

I write.
Every morning, I fetch my iPad from the downstairs charging station, after feeding Pop the cat, and bring it back to bed with me. Using the wifi of my iPhone, as the wifi at Hasselbacken has exceptionally shaky reception in my bedroom, a fact which I am not altogether sad about, I load Pages and open The depth(s), containing my current writing endeavor. 

I write, write some more, pause, looking out the window, drinking a sip of lukewarm water, breathe for a few repetitions, deliberately, sensing into it, and then write some more. 

But you don’t get to see it.
Not here.
Not yet.
Possibly not ever. Here, that is. 

Parts of it will be shared, with you, but not here. Perhaps you will not find it. You see, at the moment, my plan is to share, in due time, parts of it at least, anonymously. 

It’s a way to be gentle with me, to not push myself so far outside my comfort zone that I freeze. But rather, to play at the edges, dipping my toe now and again into the unknown, in that which I paint inner landscapes off as scary. After not dying this time either, revert back to base, rest, recuperate, nourish myself, only to let me loose at play at the edge, over and over again. I do share it though. So far, all of it’s been shared, in a small community, a community where I feel held, where it’s (me. My writings) not just possible, but even welcome. A safe container, boosting me, strengthening my resolve, self-confidence and commitment. To finally, at long last, shine a light, at that which I’ve kept in the dark. For so long. Forever…

The writing is better, goes deeper, affects my every waking moment, informs my every waking moment. Thanks to the container in which I share, thanks to the people within this community, generous and gifted, loving and laughing, kind and considerate, smart and sharp, all in the most nourishing mix. My roots go deeper, my branches wider, the leaves of me vibrating with the richness of the colors of the rainbow, open to receive sunshine and rain, in exchange for oxygen, the life-blood of humanity and all things organic, freely given, in abundance. 

Do you know such a place?


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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Insights that truly shake me to my core

May 17, 2020
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I haven’t gotten the text on the victim vs perpetrator-perspective in the bag yet. Did discuss it with some wise friends today, and… it will come. I won’t let it go. But it’s still not ready.

And then… I wrote another text last night, after having done three more prompts in The Creative’s Workshop. The prompts gave me an insight into two modes of mine, perform/deliver and discovery, and the text I wrote a few hours later was directly related to this.

You see, a while after finishing those prompts, I got such a massive insight into my own behaviors, into where I slide easily into discovery mode, and where I stick to perform/deliver as if it was a life-raft, even though it’s most likely dragging me down, rather than saving me.

And it’s gotten to be a habit – a routine? Or perhaps even a ritual? – to write in situations like this. When hit by insights that truly shake me to my core, putting fingers to keyboard helps me find, what it is I suddenly see. It’s a way for me to step fully through the door that the insight invites me into, which is the way I describe what tankespjärn is. So yes. Insights, for me, are most often tankespjärn of the highest quality!

This insight is personal. Deeply personal.
And I don’t know if it’s to be shared widely.
Not yet.

I have to digest it a bit, wrap myself (not my head. My self! Significant difference for a recovering head-footer-person, i.e. the head with feet attached that small children draw as their first attempt at humans, that I am.) around it, and just let it be.

I did share it with two of my absolutely closest compadres, directly. They are as close to me as my own skin, in many ways, and I know, there’s nothing but love and support to be gotten from them. And within minutes and hours, I had gotten just that, from both of them. Love. Support. And more love.

The process… now and again, there are variations to the general process of writing, and this is one of them. When it’s something that hits home, deeply affecting me, I need to make sure that I am not bleeding from any wounds, before sharing. If I am, the reader gets more than they should, and it’s not fair on them. It’s not for me to spread my hurts, wounds, sorrows, on others, widely.


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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I see how others…

March 2, 2020
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I see how others write, and I go Oh, I’d like to be able to write like that.
But then I realize, I write the way I write. And I’ve found a flow in my language that I enjoy and like. So… it’s more a matter of enjoying the writing of others, and possibly be inspired by it.

Doodle from a session on Innovation and ontological design by Karl McFaul and Michael Sillion, at Studio in Malmö, 2018.

I see how others draw, and I go Oh, I’d like to be able to draw like that.
But then I realize, I draw the way I draw. And I’ve found a flow in my doodling (more than anything) that I enjoy and like. So… it’s more a matter of enjoying the drawings of others, and possibly be inspired by it.

I see how others take photographs, and I go Oh, I’d like to be able to take photographs like that.
But then I realize, I take photographs the way I take photographs. And I’ve found a flow in my photography that I enjoy and like. So… it’s more a matter of enjoying the photography of others, and possibly be inspired by it.

I see how others make music, and I go Oh, I’d like to be able to make music like that.
But then I realize, I don’t necessarily make music if by making music I mean to compose. But I make music, in the way that I sing, play the guitar, and dance (isn’t that a way of making music as well?). And I’ve found a flow in how I sing and play and dance that I enjoy and like. So… it’s more a matter of enjoying the music-making of others, and possibly be inspired by it.

I see how others respond to being tagged, or how generously they comment on the posts of others when stumbling upon them, and I go Oh. Why haven’t I thought of that? That’s something I could easily do, myself.
And then I realize, that’s the beauty of a community such as The Creative’s Workshop. I can be inspired by all these wonderful creators, in any way, shape or form that I like, without ever having to belittle myself or beat myself up for not having thought of something first. I can simply bear witness and try things on, see if it’s a fit, see how I can comment more generously, connect more graciously, create more humbly.

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There are darlings to be killed

October 28, 2019
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You should write and publish with a delay, so you have time to go back and review/rewrite your posts after a few days, a week, or so, he said, giving me something to ponder.

And yes.
I should.
And more importantly.
I want to.

Because I know the quality of my texts would improve if I did. If I write, leave be for a while, and then revisit my texts, it’s easier to kill darlings when there are darlings to be killed; easier to twist and turn the text to ensure the message is clear as can be: easier to sense into the relevance of the text.

When I give myself (and you, dear reader) this gift, my texts are better, more to the point, hold greater clarity and fewer detours and/or dead ends.

So.
Yes.
I should.
And more importantly.
I want to.

And…. this has repercussions. Because I don’t have seven days worth of blog posts planned and scheduled. Let alone fourteen days worth. Which is where I ”should be at” if I want to make this shift.

Luckily, at this very moment I am sitting opposite Sara, who lovingly invited herself to come join me for one of my planned writing retreats. Since we’ve done writing retreats together with much success on previous occasions, I happily accepted, and now, sitting here, I know I am beholden to her. Without her presence, I would most likely be running circles around myself, doing anything but w r i t e, just like I did my last attempt.

So I give myself a mission to get seven days worth of blog posts in the pipeline, thereby giving me the opportunity to write, and revisit, before publishing.

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Willing myself to write

September 30, 2019
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It’s past ten pm, I have yet to blog and finish a meditation challenge-activity as well as send off a challenging activity of my own to my digital #tankespjärn client, before I hop into bed. Pop the cat is draped elegantly across the sofa, right next to me, my guess is he’ll run after me once I get off the couch, to beat me to bed.

I am not really in blogging-mode, and yet, here I am, willing myself to write. You see, these past months I’ve not made time for blogging in my extremely jam-packed calendar, and it affects me. I ground myself when I write; I become aware of what I am, where I am, who I am when I sit down to let my fingers tip-toe across the keyboard. So the fact that I’ve been a busy bee coupled with the fact that I haven’t blogged is starting to take its toll. Blogging is a part of my wellbeing practice.

Had a friend suggest I ”just write, you don’t need to publish it”. But that’s just it. I don’t ”just write”. Or at least, way too seldom. Publishing my writings is what makes me write, especially as I have the intention to blog daily. That means I write daily, and that is of huge benefit to me.

So here I sit. Ten past ten at night, after a long day of three different networking meetings, four almost-half-hour bike rides, and both choir and guitar practice. Writing. Getting into the habit of blogging daily again. A habit that serves me.

Possibly I should take a helicopter view of my blogging routine, and set up a new set of intentions. Perhaps daily isn’t optimal? Perhaps it should be every other day, perhaps only on weekdays, perhaps… well. Who knows. For now, though, getting back on the horse again seems like the wisest thing I can do.

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When earth shrinks and the universe opens wide

April 15, 2019
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Once in a while, significant events take place. Such as …

Birth.
Death.
Marriage.
Divorce.

Those are a few of the more obvious significant events in life. But there are more. Events that make earth shrink and turn minuscule, all the while the universe opens up, ready to be explored.

Patterns are broken, limiting stories cease to be true, a life is being lived – in its totality.

Told D who, wise as always, told me (paraphrasing) Write, write, write, about all that has just taken place. Write to yourself, and open the letter at the earliest in a year. Write, as a gift to you.

So I lit a candle, filled up my teacup with warm water, and wrote, wrote, wrote. Three full pages. To me. About an event that made the earth shrink and turn minuscule. An event that made the universe open wide, ready to be explored.

By me.

Universe.
Here I come!

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I write. But not lyrics. Yet?

February 9, 2019
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I write.
Not as much as I read. But I write.
Since August 2012 in the form of blogging, before that (and also after) more writing at work… the number of routines, and test protocols and reports of various kinds I’ve written during the years, you’d not want to know, neither would I.

This will be my 2105th blog post (Swedish and English, the latter 20% of the total), and I intend to continue blogging as long as I find value in it. It serves me, and I enjoy it. So I write and will continue writing.

Recently, a glimmer of an opportunity to write lyrics have arisen, and I wonder… how to write lyrics? Lyrics first, and then someone will put music to it? Or music first, and I put lyrics to it? Can I? Should I?

Smile at me, shake my head a bit, and know full well that the answer is this:
Try it. Experiment. Play with it. See what happens, how it unfolds, if there’s something there – it will become obvious. If not, that will also become obvious. Why make it harder than it has to be?

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On the issue of the day

November 20, 2018
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in Tip
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I often return to blog posts of the past. My blog posts of the past. As I’ve been blogging for 6 years – more or less daily for 5 of those years – there are quite a few blog posts to choose from.

When there’s an interesting article or question or observation asked, many times I am reminded of something I’ve written that is relevant to whatever prompted the connection being made in my mind. So I search for it (and oftentimes find what I am looking for. Not always though) and can share what I’ve written and pondered about… about whatever really. Fear. Mistakes. Dancing. Coaching. Existential questions. Anything really!

And what is apparent, is how timeless many of my posts are. They can be recent or have 5 years to them, and still be as relevant today as when I wrote them. It’s not valid for all of them though, and listening to Seth Godin on Good Life Project, I got some insight into why that is. Seth was telling Jonathan Fields about “the issue of the day” and how he makes a point n o t to write about is – in specifics (listen from about 49 minutes in):

I care enough about my vision of the world that if I thought that I could change the way we did things by blogging about it, specifically, I would do it. But I feel like, a) chiming in on the issue of the day is a trap because it protects us from having to take responsibility for a larger view. […]
I think you can read at least half my blog posts as political, but none of them are saying Today, I think this person is wrong and this person is right, because as soon as I do that it’s so easy to ignore what I said because I am not on the right team, what ever team you want to be on. And so, I don’t want to play that sort of short-term tribal thing. Instead I want to say thank you to people from where ever you are coming from for giving me two minutes of your time, think about this. And if you think about this and still want to support that, well that’s your choice because you are a grown-up. Because I don’t believe what you believe, I don’t know what you know, I don’t want what you want. But here, here is a thought that feels to me coherent, and hard to argue with, and I notice things, do you notice this? And I know that that kind of input has influenced my life coming up, particularly as a teenager and surely thereafter, way more than when someone says this person is right, that person is wrong.

This is truly food for thought for me, and in how and what I write. Because I do chime in, now and again, on the specifics of the issues of the day. And those are posts that have a much shorter lifespan than posts that take the larger view.

I love how a new thought can open up for new perspectives – will this lead to changes in how and what I write? Or not?

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Falling into a rut

July 9, 2016
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I am. Falling into a rut. Here. On this blog. And it saddens me a bit.

pen to paperOn Thursdays I post a Throwback Thursday post, and Sundays is Doing Gentle-time. On the 25th each month, I do a general reflection on what being gentle towards my actually means to me, in the moment.

But that is almost all. And that is what a rut looks like, at least for this lady.

And I want more. Different. Other things.
I want to write more.
Reflections. Observations.
Tips on great podcasts, books, video snippets, articles.

I have so many ideas where I want to put pen to paper to allow them to take form. Transform from existing solely within the confines of me, into something I can share with you.

So why don’t I?

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