writing

Open to the shifts

Open to the shifts

August 25, 2020
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This past week, I have not blogged daily. Haven’t written daily either, but even days of writing, have not always been days of blogging. This will likely prevail. I will blog, if blogging is in the cards. Or not, if (when) not. There’s a shift here, a desire, an inkling to play around with a somewhat different way of going forth. It’s not hard for me to blog daily. (Most times.) What’s harder is listening within, and blogging because there’s something to be said, something to be let out, rather than doing it because I’ve committed to doing it. (Makes sense?)

My deep-dive will not be published (now). But I will be writing (it). This is a commitment I’ve made, one which, truth be told, might even be hindered if I were to stick to a daily blogging scheme, having me go for the easy write rather than the deep-dive, which takes so much more from me. There’s effort. (In flow. Effort in flow. Trust me. It comes. But not without thorns, tumbles, tears.)

Then there’s the idea of doing yet another different type of writing. A deep-dive of sorts as well, but not within so much as without, into something specific. Wanting to do tankespjärn-pieces, that are more thorough. Researched. Thought through. (Yes. Mostly when I write, I simply sit down and write. But I’ve been longing for a different type of writing for a while. So how about it; Give me permission to do just that?)

As always (often? At least often!) when there’s a shift in one place/space, other shifts tag along.
One shift acting as a catalyst, causing other shifts to happen.

Being open to the shifts makes for an interesting life.
Explorative. Elucidating. Expansive.


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

August 24, 2020
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Third day in a row.
Sitting in bed, iPad in my lap, leaning against the headboard, supported by pillows.
Writing.

Oh!
At long last, getting back to this lovely routine.
Waking up, getting out of bed to go pee, and then sneak downstairs, fetching my iPad, before heading back under the covers. Setting myself up for a few minutes, half an hour, an hour, of writing.
Writing.

Writing, intentionally, a deep-dive into a topic (or rather, into an exploration within), a strong enough Why to get me to commit, to take action, to Do in order to match who I want to Be. An exploration I am, for now, keeping to myself, or at least, to a small group of people. Figuring things out, discovering, uncovering, not wanting to publish, as this specific baby is far from ready to meet the world. Perhaps it will be. One day. Perhaps it never will be. Ever. Regardless, it feels very good to be writing.
Writing.

And as always (often?), when I start to write, more wants to be written. It’s as if I open the faucet, and out it comes. Like this. Writings related to the experience of writing, or other; experiences, urges and insights, all of a sudden start to flow, wanting to come out, wanting to be written.
Writing.


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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The never-ending story of the questioning mind.

July 5, 2020
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I blog every day.
(Just like Seth.)
Is it too much, though?

Aarrgghhhh.
Resistance speaking? Fear? Not wanting to be too much?
(But I ”am” too much. And quite happily so.)

Who else publishes something daily?
Do you ever fear it’s ”too much to handle” for your audience?
Would you change, if it was?

For me, it’s simply the easiest way to do stuff. Daily.
(The Upholder in me nods and chimes in: I get such a kick out of run streaks as well!)

But I haven’t had a lot of people subscribing to my blog before, and now, more and more are trickling in, which makes me truly happy. And… fearful. For the above-mentioned reason.

Why?
(Oh, I know why, that’s simply the way the mind works. Thoughts come and go, and some of them sort’a makes an imprint, has me dive deep into the rabbit hole…)

Honest to God, I don’t read every post Seth publishes. I get the emails, and read some. Save them, to read later, and when there’s too many, I simply delete them instead. Unread.

So if you (imaginary subscriber of my blog) do the same, that’s perfectly fine.
I hope you read some, of course, but there’s no expectation from me that you read the lot.
Truly.

But should I take that, and turn it into a rational for not writing daily? If I post 3 days a week, would more people read more of the posts then? Or weekly?

Nah.

It doesn’t sit right.

But who knows, perhaps, once day, it might?
Or I’ll simply get fed up with writing/publishing daily, and I’ll start to ponder whether or not I write too seldom…

And on and on it goes.
The never-ending story of the questioning mind.


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

July 3, 2020
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It’s July.

(Already. How is it possible? Just the other day it was Easter, and before that Corona struck, and somehow, it’s been a year since I returned home from a week in Kenya. Amazing.)

I should be summarizing June based on my intention for the year (with my body in focus), but it will have to wait.

I should be heading to bed, actually…

(Tired.
That’s what I am.
Sitting on the sofa, yawning like crazy.
)

And yet.
Here I am.
Writing.

Because…
I haven’t written anything today.

Because…
I like having the blog post for tomorrow published automatically as I go about my morning routine, getting ready for the day.

Because…
once I’d eaten, tended the tomato plants in the garden, talked to friends about a fall event, I sat down to write after nine pm… only to realize I’d forgotten to send a weekly email to a client of mine, a very dear client of mine, so that’s what I did. Instead of writing. For me. 

But.
Perhaps because-ing myself is as bad as shoulding myself?
Or… perhaps shoulding myself isn’t bad at all? Except when I think it means I have to do something, and that I am bad, unworthy, a lazy no-good, if I don’t?

Perhaps because-ing myself isn’t bad either, as long as I don’t use it to avoid taking full responsibility for me, myself and I, and all the situations I put myself into?


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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Say w h a t?

June 21, 2020
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All of a sudden, I have at least four posts to write, where I know precisely what they will be about.

Say w h a t?

Yeah, I know.
For me, this is an oddity, an outlier. I normally sit down, and something shows up, which I then write about. Or, I start writing something, but it turns into something else, through a process I cannot describe, but one which my system knows full well, as it’s run often enough.

But now, I have a post on a book to write, one on generosity, one with a limerick gifted to me, and then one on today’s Zoom-call with my tankespjärn-community (which in itself is a post containing a multitude of spin-off-posts).

This means… if I sit down to write all these, I would be ahead of the game by at least four days. If I still stick to writing each day, that would get me halfway to the goal I’ve had for a while, of being approximately a week ahead of myself. Being ahead by a week or so has the added perk of me being able to re-visit written-but-not-yet-published pieces, tweaking and trimming them if need be.

But first… an hour of two of gardening!


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

June 6, 2020
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She showed me the trailer to American son on Netflix, and in no time at all, I asked if we couldn’t watch it. So we did. Had us frustrated, irritated, annoyed, upset and shocked.

Then a friend in The Creative’s Workshop discovered Stabat Mater, the piece Jens Bragdell Eriksson, my choirmaster, wrote in 2016 for my choir. Listening she wrote, having me put the album on myself, so I can listen knowing she’s doing the same, on the other side of the world. Together, at a time like this. Important. Vital. Rejuvenating. 

American Son.

Stabat Mater.
At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.

And George Floyd calling out for his mama, before dying.
(Click this link. Read it. Promise me, you’ll read it. Then come back here.)

The synchronicity of it hitting me hard.
Parents. Children.
Death. Dying.
Life. Living. 

Trying to make sense of experiences I cannot possibly experience, asking when I don’t, taking in the differences in what it is to be human, in someone else’s body. 

There’s so much to learn, and I intend to continue learning.
Listening. Reading. Watching. Conversing. Asking. Writing. 

Being. And Doing.

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The only thing that’s needed.

April 13, 2020
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…empty.

That’s me.
Right now.

Started writing something or other… frowned my nose. Deleted it.
Wrote a caption… and deleted that as well.

And you know what?
Once in a while, perhaps silence is the only thing that’s needed?
So I gift silence. To me. To you.

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Stimulating ventures get my creative juices going

March 11, 2020
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Riding my bike to the train station this morning I had a thought.

I’ve regained my joy in writing.
I haven’t had this much fun writing for the past year, or so!

I know full well what’s sparked my renewed thrill with writing – attending The Creative’s Workshop, and being a part of such a generous and caring community –, and that had me do a double-take. In hindsight, I’ve not partaken in (enough) stimulating ventures, which, apparently and not surprising at all, get my creative juices going.

That’s an important realization for me.
I enjoy it.
I thrive off it.
I am more creative on account of it.

And luckily enough, it’s completely in my own hands. I can jump in, or get out of, stimulating ventures at any time. There’s no end to the number of exciting, exploratory, engrossing workshops, courses, pieces of training I can attend. No end!

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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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Three dailies and two prompts later…

February 12, 2020
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The Creative’s Workshop. 

Jumped in six days ago, the dailies started three days ago, and there have been two prompts so far (Mondays – Wednesdays – Fridays. It’s Wednesday today, so…), and I am already having a blast.

The dailies are about writing something, anything, daily, for 100 days in a row. Been there, done that. Not a problem at all for me.
But never have I done it in a community like this one. Never with so many people willing to share, to encourage, to question, to cheer and hook up with on this journey of ours for the next 150 days or so.

The prompts are a thrice-weekly prompt. Intended to get me thinking, writing, creating. Answering from instinct rather than figuring things out. Putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard as it were) and letting what-ever-wants-to-come flow out of me.

My calendar is more full than I feel comfortable with. I have a huge capacity for Doing. No doubt. But in the past six-seven years, I’ve cultivated my capacity for Being as well, and with a full calendar, there’s less room for the latter, unfortunately. So I have been low on energy. I’ve been tired. Feeling drained. Putting pen to paper (fingers to keyboards, sure, yeah, of course, but it just doesn’t sound as poetic, does it?) have resulted in… naught. Nada. Zilch.

And now, three dailies and two prompts later… I am buzzing. Alive and kicking! Inspired, energized, On. And very curious to see what want’s to happen here!

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