The wintering will continue, and season four of Meandering Conversations are put on hold. For how long, no one knows. There might be the sporadic pod episode in this feed though, perhaps me reading a few blog posts, the occasional solitary reflection or perhaps a random meandering conversation or two. Who knows.

In the meantime, if you need a dose of tankespjärn now and again, check out the backlog (in your pod feed or on YouTube), there’s plenty to revisit.

And I invite you to join me for another type of meandering conversation, in any or all of the eleven Doing Gentle With An Edge salons I will be hosting over on interintellect. All details can be found here →

The urge to write is bubbling more and more within me, and if you want to keep tabs on that, sign up for news on https://tankespjarn.com. There you can also reach out to me for a CoachTalk, which in many ways is like personal meandering conversation.

Hope to see you around – somewhere, somehow!

First published on my blog on August 18, 2020. Read the post here →

I am no longer willing to let myself be used as the scapegoat. I am no longer willing to step up when others claim that my words, my deeds, my actions, are what angers them, what upsets them or what scares them. Because in truth, it is their reaction to my words, my deeds, my actions, that angers, upsets and scares them.

This never means I get to act like a brute, avoiding responsibility for my words, deeds and actions. That’s on me.

What’s on you, is to do the same. To own your reactions.

You might well be angered or upset, even scared. But own it.

Don’t go here:
”You make me angry, upset, scared.”

Or here:
”Your words, deeds, actions, make me angry, upset, scared.”

Rather, try to find something like this place within:
”I felt angered, upset, scared by what happened within me when I came upon your words, deeds, actions.”

When both of us own our reactions, progress is possible. Connection, understanding and respect is to be had.

And I know, I cannot make you choose this. And it’s not for me to tell you what to do, or not do.
What I can do though, are two things:
I can strive to live up to this ideal, myself.
And I can be very clear with what is OK for me. To not swallow it, to not take it, should you happen to put your shit on me.

And that latter one, is where I have an opportunity to improve. To learn how to live it, to actually be someone who doesn’t take others’ shit. The outcome of that might well be that I also choose to not be with you, simply because I get to choose my company. And as peer pressure is very real and we become like those closest to us, I honor me by being very specific and particular in choosing whom I spend time with. Because that choice will impact me, making me be more –or less– of the person I want to be in the world.

And there’s nothing I want more than to surround myself with people who see and encourage the potential harbored within me, who positively challenge me to –always and already– be and become the better me.

First published on my blog on March 31, 2022. Read the post here →

Maybe violence isn’t all that bad?!

The first time I entertained that statement/question I shocked myself.

A long time ago (August of 2013) I wrote a piece entitled Violence is never the answer and I absolutely, one-hundred-percent believed it to be True. Capital T Truth. But now… No. I no longer think it is.

I am greatly influenced by Daniel Quinn and My Ishmael, where he speaks at length to this. I remember picking apples from my mother’s apple trees in the fall while listening to the audiobook. I’ve read the physical book before. I’ve listened to the audiobook before. But this time, happily picking apple after apple, I immediately ‘rewound the tape’ and re-listened to the chapter where violence is discussed in such a way that I all of a sudden saw beyond the violence, saw the reason for it, or at least a possible reason for it, in way’s I’d never before understood it.

As I worked on the transcript of my fifth conversation with Reddy, episode 49 on Tankespjärn with Helena Roth, where we spend much of the time playing (yes. Absurd as it might seem, play is the best descriptor, I think.) with violence, I heard myself say Maybe violence isn’t all that bad?!, knowing that if anyone can stomach me saying that, it’s Reddy. Which he did like a champ.

So, what about violence might not be all bad?

Well… Look at other species, and you will see more in-species fighting, and less between-species fighting. (Note, I write fighting, and not killing. Most predators hunt-to-kill other species, rather than rely on their own species for prey, but they fight with their own kind.) This has been true for humans too, for most of human life on earth. The in-species fighting has served the purpose of keeping other groups/tribes on their toes, making sure they don’t relax. (Which, incidentally, also is a way to keep the other’s as well as ourselves fit because who knows when they might return the favor?!). The concept of drawing first blood has sufficed, to a large extent, and not until the culture of Modern Man did we start to annihilate the others if they did not assimilate into our culture.

No longer settling for you are free to do what you do, as long as we are free to do what we do, the culture of Modern Man stated that you may no longer remain separate from us, rooted in your own culture and behaviours. You have to do what and how we do. Nothing else is acceptable.

The mash-up of this innate (?) trait–violence as a part of the way of nature–twisted, thwarted and manipulated by the culture of Modern Man, combined with technological advances, where you no longer have to be within arms reach to kill another person–has brought us to where we are today: A place where it’s easy, almost a given, to dehumanize the other, and where the effect of violence-at-a-distance wreaks havoc way beyond the concept of first blood.

So. 

Again. 

Maybe violence isn’t all that bad?!

But the violence I speak to is not the violence of today, where brutal, lethal force is applied at a distance, dehumanizing perpetrator and victim both. It’s as if we’ve turned up the volume too high on violence and need to turn it down again, to recalibrate violence to a level where it isn’t all that bad, again. Or?

First published on my blog on January 23, 2021. Read the post here →

The bottom line: Use discernment when choosing the company you keep, in all manners possible. Be it friends, books, newsfeeds or food, drink and exercise. And. So. On. It  a l l  impacts you, either short-, mid- or long-term.

The importance of the people I choose to spend time with, the books I choose to read, the podcasts I choose to listen to, the programs I choose to watch are as vital aspects of not simply sustaining me in all my glory, mind, body and soul alike, but to be regenerative, as the food I choose to eat, the drinks I choose to drink, the amount of movement and sleep I gift myself with.

Some of these things have an immediate effect, impacting me right off. Blood sugar levels, hydration, being moved to dance to a favorite tune or cry tears of empathy for the fate of a character in a TV-show. Knowing myself, being able to discern between what I truly need, what I want, what I crave, matters greatly, not taking all whims of mine as Truth to be adhered to, letting some slip by the roadside on account of not being in service, to me or those around me, near and far alike.

Others are more subtle, influencing me and the direction my life takes, the way my personal expansion behaves, in ways that might not be recognized in the moment. Like the slow turn of an ocean-steamer, taking miles upon miles to be effected, but in the long run causing the steamer to end up in a totally different place than if it hadn’t turned.

Like seeds sown. With a bit of water, sunshine and nourishment, of just the right kind, seeds will sprout and new growth will appear. Having a fondness for wild gardens, not too trimmed and well-kept, you might think I’d welcome any seed sprouting, any growth appearing, but alas. I do not. Some discernment exists even within my love for wild gardens.

I love trees, and yet, the oak saplings that are showing up at the edge of my garden will not be allowed to grow too big, because a fully grown oak tree in my small garden would totally dwarf everything else. It’s simply not appropriate  h e r e  however much I love and am fascinated by fully-grown oak trees in places where their presence is nothing but awe-inspiring.

So when choosing my company, in all manners of mind, body and soul, awareness and discernment are vital, or else something that does not serve me might sprout, grow and in time oust other plants, better suited in the wild garden that is me.

First published on my blog on November 25, 2021. Read the post here →

Riffing about an insight from the aftermath of my first divorce, where I had gotten the insight that whatever it was, it would not be accepted by my X, on the grounds of it coming from me.

It wasn’t what I said.
It wasn’t how I said it.

It was that I said it.
Or rather… it was that I said it.

When that was the case, he shut down.
Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, listen.

That was a hard lesson to learn for me.
To be so filled with ideas, feeling as if I had the fix for whatever the problem was, all the while realizing that there was nothing, bar telepathy, that I could use to share them.

It took me a few more years to internalize this in a way that I feel is beneficial and benevolent, because to start with this just gave rise to frustration and resentment. A malevolence, eating away at me, as well as towards my X.

In time though, I have come to be comfortable, at least now and again, with holding my tongue. Actually not experiencing the dire urge to blurt out whatever thought pops into my head, but to sit with it. Sometimes choosing to share. Sometimes content with keeping it on the inside, engaging in an inner dialogue with myself.

The snippet is taken from episode 30 The everyday creativity of music, coaching and meandering of Tankespjärn with Helena Roth, a podcast of meandering conversations, this one tfrom season two, with Andy Mort.

First published on my blog on January 4, 2019. Read the post here →

Headed for town, but before I took off on my bike, I packed a towel. Just in case. After recording a pod and having lunch with and at Caspian’s I decided: Yes. Today is the day for the first dip in the sea of the year.

So I rode to the pier farthest from town, the one designated for skinny dipping. Parked my bike, took a picture and started to undress. Gloves, beanie, winter coat. Shoes, jeans, long johns, woolen socks. Woolen sweater, long tee, and my woolen undershirt. Off it goes. All of it.

As I pull my sweater over my head, a door to a somewhat surreal universe cracks open.

Grabbed my towel and headed out to the pier.
Sunny, windy, 5 degrees tops. Probably the same temperature in the water.

Tie my towel to the pier to stop it from blowing away.
Waves.
Slippery staircase, hold on tight.

And in I go.
Hesitate… and I would never do it.
So I just take one step after the other, until I am up to my neck in the ocean.

Cold. Yes. Shockingly cold.
Fully manifest in that other universe. The am-I-really-doing-this-and-can-this-really-be-happening-universe.

Hyperventilate while two waves crash into me, then get out. One step after the other, until I am up on the pier again.

In the other universe, I get out, cold and wet… and all of a sudden, my skin starts tingling. The chill vanishes, the wind disappears, time seems to stop, and I am totally present to the beauty of it all.

The ocean.
The sun.
The wind.
The vastness.
And last, but not least, to myself. For doing it.
Living. Fully!

Grab my towel and rub off, while taking my time walking to the bike and my clothes.

Slowly emerging from the alternate universe, I dress, happy, pleased, not feeling any cold whatsoever.

My soul sings!
I did it.
First dip in the ocean this year, and I know this dip will be followed by many others.

Who would have known that taking a (cold) dip in the sea would let me travel to another universe?
Who would have known a dip in the sea would fill me with this most wondrous feeling?
How will you know, if you would experience something like it unless you give it a shot?

First published on my blog on September 24, 2017. Read the post here →

Listening to Jonathan Fields in conversation with his longtime friend Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project if you’ve read that book? I have. Enjoyed it. This conversation centers around The four tendencies, something which Gretchen apparently touched on in one of her earlier books, and then dove deeper into, making it the topic for her current book The four tendencies, a book I most definitely want to read after listening to this podcast.

The four tendencies centers on how we, as human beings, relate to inner and outer expectations – being prone to or resisting one or the other. The four tendencies are given names; Upholder, Obliger, Questioner, Rebel. More than 800 000 people have taken Gretchens simple online test to get a feel for ones own core tendency, and I turned out to be an Upholder. Not surprising, just from the podcast itself I felt the most connected to this tendency, and the online test confirmed it.

As I listen to the podcast (over and over again), clarity arises.

Clarity in why I am good at keeping promises to myself (such as meditating every morning and doing my daily Seven, such as promising myself to practice the guitar for twenty minutes a day for sixty days, and following through) but also towards others (meeting deadlines, keeping promises, getting the job done).

Clarity in why some people struggle with things that come naturally to me, because I can see other tendencies in them, giving me a greater understanding in what makes them tick, one way or another, which might make me become a better coach, mother, business partner and friend in the future.

Clarity as to how the assignment “to make people better at motivating others” isn’t about what works for me, but rather about the four ways there are to have people gain the most traction from their own inner driving forces. A Upholder meets both inner and outer expectations. For a Questioner understanding why is central making them meet their own inner expecations. The Obliger struggles and fails to meet inner expectations but readily meets outer ones. And at last the Rebel, resisting both outer and inner expectations, which to me sounds really tricky. I mean, what remains then? Spur of the moment, I guess?

If we all knew our own tendencies, and had sufficient knowledge about the other three, for sure that would make a huge difference in any setting we find ourselves in. At school, at work, with the closest family, with friends. Knowing my own tendency, which is actually quite rare, which means what works for me, won’t necessarily work for you. And if you and I both have some knowledge about our respective core tendencies, perhaps there is a greater opportunity for us to find common ground, to be able to stand by one another, being there for each other in ways that are truly helpful?

I am an Upholder, with leanings towards Questioner, I think. The test online doesn’t dig deep enough for me to truly distinguish the nuances in great detail; am hoping the book will. What are you?

First published on my blog on October 1, 2018. Read the post here →

Presence.
Closeness.

Finding me.
In your eyes.
Seeing and being seen.
In my yes. My no.
Lucidity is kindness, as always.
To breath; rebirthing, opening up, energies in flux. Loudly.

Body contact.
Hands caressing my body, soft as a feather.
The strength of an arm holding me close.
Letting my enjoyment be seen, heard.

Speaking out loud, my inner wish.
What I desire. Right now. With you and noone else.
To speak. Be granted my wish. Speaking another. Granted, yet again.
Daring to let go.
Daring to let me ask for, be granted, receive.
Revel.
Simply being with it. Being with.
Sensuality.
Caresses.

Not taking responsibility for anyone but me.
I. Here. For me. Not you.
You. Here for you. Not me.
In the space in between, We are created.
Multiple We’s.
Shifting. Growing. Weaved together, by laughter, eye contact, touch.

Shares. Laughs.
Truth and lies; more laughter. Frivolous and heartfelt, all at once.
That which is significant, and that which is insignificant.

Elemental massage. Like earth, fire, water, air, ether.
Heavy. Earthed. Grounded. Powerful. Well needed.
Surprised. Sweeter to receive than give, which gives me permission after the fact, for what I gave. Like a winter swim: tingling skin, awakened, alive. Blood flowing through my veins.
Rippling, sparkling. A moment of grace.
Softly, softly. Caressed by hair, by breath, by the outermost part of the fingertips. More, give me more!
Caressed by energy, by the force field generated by closeness and presence, even without physical contact. There is so much more to us, we reach far beyond our physical bodies.

The gift.
That I do. Dare. Let myself.
Give. Receive.
The exquisite thrill, heartfelt and real, far from ABC.
The amount of pleasure available to us in life, far beyond what I ever knew, dared, understood, thought myself able to.

Beginning to understand.
Bliss!

First published on my blog on June 12, 2020. Read the post here →

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?

First published on Creative Gallery in 2021. Read the post here →

Christmas?, I asked, only to hear my mom respond over the phone, without hesitation, No.
Ok, I replied, and that was that. Me and the kids, Benjamin at 16 and Alex at 21, at home for Christmas, unlike the normal Christmases, even though normal has never meant exactly the same every year. Venues have shifted, as has the number and constellation of family members. But often, Christmas has been spent at my mom’s place.

When I tell the kids, the idea that we don’t have to do, or eat, what we normally do on Christmas arises.
Said and done, we decide to cook dinner together, a non-Christmasy dinner. Benjamin asks Do we have to watch Kalle Anka? meaning the Donald Duck/Disney-one-hour collection of cartoons that’s been broadcasted on Swedish TV at three pm every Christmas Eve since 1960. I say No, but I probably will.

As the day approaches, I decide I will get the mulled (non-alcoholic) wine with peeled almonds and raisins, ginger bread and a saffron sponge cake – my mom had sent it our way a few weeks earlier, keeping vigil in the freezer until the time had come. And time had come. – ready by three pm, and that I would watch Kalle Anka, ensuring the kids they were free to do whatever they wanted.

First published on my blog on March 16, 2019. Read the post here →

Listens to Jonathan Fields on Good Life Project, interviewing Milton Glaser. Interesting and thought-provoking, as these podcasts usually are. However, one thing stood out enormously in this episode:

I’ve spent so much of my life in certainty. Ridiculously so, and only to a certain degree can I attribute this stance to youth and ignorance. I kept up that attitude for too long, to the detriment of my own well being.

I am experimenting more and more with the latter though – the doubting, the questioning, the exploration of new thought, new ideas, new ways of being and doing. And boy, does it ever make for a much more fun and exciting life! There is so much to discover in life, and that’s the road I want to travel.

But still, there are things I am certain of, I guess. But they become fewer and fewer. And I no longer believe my beliefs are permanent. It feels more like I am where I am today, believing whatever I have come to realize by this point of life, but who knows what tomorrow might bring? I sure don’t.

What are you certain about?

First published on my blog on March 27, 2020. Read the post here →

Last week as I stepped into the cold water of the ocean off the coast of Malmö in the south of Sweden, I had my phone with me. I’ve a habit to do that, now and again, as I record myself going in, staying in, sharing my experiences with cold bathing. What came out of my mouth that crisp spring afternoon, with sunshine and blue skies, as I was standing in the water, which, just like the air was around five degrees Celsius, was this: There is calm to be had.

The world has turned upside-down, for so many. A global pandemic is raging, and I fear that we’ve just seen the beginning of it. Cities, counties, countries and companies are closing down in varying degrees, and whatever was normal, no longer is.

And.
With all that going on.
There is calm to be had.

It’s easy to not experience calm right now.
I know that.
I see that.

I also know it’s equally easy to experience calm.
I know that.
I see that too.

There are many things I have no say in.
What my government is –or is not– doing. Whether or not the school my youngest attends will stay opened or not, and what will happen next, neither locally nor globally.
No. Say.

But there are many things I have a say in.
In what I choose to do with my days. How I spend them, regardless of external constraints. What I read. What I listen to. What interactions and conversations I engage in. If I seek out Drama, or not. If I stick to routines (as best I can) that serve me and my wellbeing.
If I show compassion and care. To me. And you. And us.
A. Say.

There is calm to be had.
And it matters whether or not I choose calm. Or not.
Because I matter. Just as you matter.

Can I always choose calm?
Yes. I can.
But I don’t.
Because I am human. And so are you. And that’s the way it should be.

The choice is still there though.
There is –always and already– calm to be had.

First published on my blog on July 21, 2021. Read the post here → 

Intimacy.
Into-me-see.

What armor do I have on me, preventing you from seeing-into-me?
(What armor do I have, preventing me from seeing-into-myself?
Oh, that’s perhaps the more significant question?)

What are the costumes I put on, that act as protection, a shield, admitting access into me only to a certain depth, often quite shallow?

I can step into costumes such as… being a mother. A sister. A wife. Colleague, neighbor, friend.
Or costumes where I am a clown, the joker, the wall-flower. A silent observer, all-lights-on-me, the dependable one. Or the victim, perpetrator, by-stander.

Oh. So. Many. Choices.

I have quite a few costumes in my wardrobe, some more used than others.

And.
It’s not  b a d  to have and use costumes.
They serve a purpose, for sure. Propping me up, acting as an exoskeleton when I don’t have what it takes within me to step into a certain role. But once I’ve learned the how’s and what’s of it, what then? What might be if I then get out of my costume, trying the waters all on my own?

That’s what I wanna get to.
To a more conscious use of costumes, far from an automatic, habitual use. Where I rely less and less on them, stepping into situations and relationships as me, more fully. Thereby opening up for the depths of me to be more accessible (yes, to myself, as well as others).

What costume/s do you habitually put on?

In meandering conversation with Mayke Vullings, we speak about intimacy and costumes, coming at it from two very different standpoints. In the end though, we are in complete agreement that we want to show up in life in ways that invites intimacy, and getting out of ones costumes definitely enhances the likelihood of more intimacy. To hear more, check out episode 13 Intimacy and into-me-see from the podcast Tankespjärn with Helena Roth.

First published on my blog on October 7, 2018. Read the post here →

Defense mechanisms.
How powerful they are.
They run automatically in situations where something (what? The soul? My psyche? That which is beyond human, the greater force behind all in the universe, Mind?) triggers me. Runs to protect me. It’s like a script triggered by a series of logical if-this-then-that-sequences gets flipped into action, and bam, I am no longer consciously running the show that is my life, but rather a passive bystander, possibly bearing witness. More likely a puppet, arms, and legs flailing, a defense mechanism in full swing.

How grateful I am that they exist, as they do what they are named for. They do defend me. Once in awhile though, they are triggered by a faulty sequence, having me defending myself, when there is nothing – or no-one – to defend myself against. I can also learn to go into a specific defense mechanism because it’s come to be a habit. Serving a purpose once upon a time, but no more. Where the trigger switch is a remnant of days long gone, making me react on a faulty premise.

I like observing. Myself. Others. Individual as well as group dynamics. Sometimes it’s hard not to ache for those who’s defense mechanisms no longer defends them. Quite the opposite. The defense mechanism of old has turned into a self-inflicting wound of today, triggered, again and again.

Without the power of observation and the habit of reflection (and doing gentle, by God, doing gentle towards oneself while reflecting!) it must feel like being repeatedly stabbed by a knife. Over. And over.

This has been me. I realize. As I write.

Perhaps there’s some trace of this behavior left in me… but it’s not prevalent. It’s not something which, when I look within, I can put a finger on and say Oh yeah, that thing, yes, that happens quite often. I don’t have any of those left, at least not in the way I live my life today. Perhaps there would be if my circumstances shifted. But they haven’t. So there aren’t any big ones left, so to speak. Not in me. But I do see it in others.

And it pains me. I try to stick to empathizing, as I do not want to sympathize. I do not want to pity or belittle. I try to take care of the pains I experience myself. Not always easy when I am pained on behalf of someone else. Well worth the effort though. What helps me stay centered is the adage from Byron Katie of My business, your business, God’s business. Some things are simply not mine to deal with

First published on my blog on May 7, 2018. Read the post here →

With curiosity and a wish for more, Tess picked up on the distinction between judgment and discernment in the post on Intuitive living, and I can only agree: it is a distinction which piqued my curiosity as well.

“You may have noticed that we have never discussed forgiveness. Forgiveness is not a concept of the All. Forgiveness implies judgment. Forgiveness implies right and wrong. Your Western culture and religions have created the concepts of sin and forgiveness as a way of controlling people’s minds. Judgment was created in this way. (You must understand judgment as being different from discernment. Discernment is an important skill to develop.) There is no place for judgment. The concepts of sin and forgiveness and redemption are not concepts borne out of Love. Love is within each one of you, bestowing mercy upon you in each moment of your existence.” [As voiced by Spirit.]

Full blog post on link above. 

First published on my blog on May 24, 2020. Read the post here →

Open.
To receive. To give.
Both actions require openness.
Otherwise nothing can come in; nothing can get out.

If I am not open to receiving, I am not open to giving either.

Being open is my default-state. And yet… I am not always open.
Sometimes I shut down, close up, not having enough energy to give, nor receive.
Both actions require energy.

It takes discernment and self-knowledge to know,
when it is time to shut the aperture, restricting intake as well as output.

First published on my blog on September 14, 2020. Read the post here: https://tankespjarn.com/procrastination/

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Website: https://tankespjarn.com/

First published on my blog on January 25, 2021. Read the post here → 

The bottom line: I get to experience that which I am present to, and not experience that which I am not present to, as I cannot be present to everything all at once.

I’m sitting in bed. It’s 8:24 am and I’ve just completed my regular Wim Hof breathing practice. Before that, I did a seven-minute pelvic exercise in my morning gown, standing in the kitchen awaiting the kettle coming to a boil. Just drank the by-now lukewarm cup of water, grabbing my iPad to do a bit of morning writing before getting up, for real.

Open PAGES, look at the screen.
Blank.

Raising my head, I look out the two windows facing me as I sit, propped up by pillows in my bed, and it’s snowing. Big flakes.

Surprised, I immediately put fingers to keyboard and start to write, only to look up again three minutes later… no snow.Snow flakes have given way to raindrops. Huh
Go figure.

In an instant.
There.
And then, not there.

If I hadn’t looked up.
I would have missed them, the snow flakes.
Makes me wonder.
How much do I miss?
And… kind of like the question if a tree that falls all by its own out in the forest actually makes a noise even with no one around to hear, I wonder if it actually matters? Do I miss out on things, if I do not know they exist? If I had missed out on seeing these snow flakes, not knowing that there was a brief interlude of heavy snowfall, just for a minute or two… would I really have missed out?

Doesn’t the missing-out-aspect require me to know what was, and know that I did not get to experience it?
Is knowledge a prerequisite to missing out on something or other?

Hah!
It’s now 8:33 and as I raise my head (this is what I do when I look for inspiration, my head and eyes tend to veer towards upper left), guess what?

Yeah.
Snowing.
Again.

I cannot be present to everything all at once.
I cannot be present to everything, period.

And what I am not present to I cannot experience.
What I am present to, I experience. And the better I get at being present, the deeper those experiences impact me. It’s as if I am thrown a piece of string, with each experience, a piece of string that I can then follow, outwards, beyond. To more experiences, to a wider perspective.

Snow. Rain. Snow.
Must be around freezing for that to happen, or perhaps a few degrees above. But not more. And definitely not less.
Will it cause slippery streets and pavements? Will people hurt themselves on account of this?
Might it snow enough for kids to be able to start a snow ball fight, make a snowman or even go sledding?
Will I have to shovel snow when I leave the house later today, for a walk?
Might it turn colder, affecting the five pieces of maple logs D brought this weekend, logs we intend to inoculate with mushroom mycelium? Is winter finally coming? What will we do with the logs then, how to keep them from freezing?

8:44.
Again. No snow flakes falling.
Part of a dance that might well continue if it wasn’t for the fact that I have a Zoom-meeting starting in fifteen minutes. I tear myself away from my musings, as I realize it’s high time to get out of bed to get ready.

What might I miss out on as a result?
And what might I experience?
To what am I present?

First published on my blog on January 10, 2017. Read the post here →

The feeling that I’m not enough. That no matter how hard I try, how hard I work, I will never be able to do enough, never able to do all that which I feel I should be doing. The frustration of not being able to make a difference, the difference I should make.

It’s not a feeling that I experience often anymore.
I used to. A lot. I had so many thoughts about what I should be doing, how I should be doing it, how fast it should be done and so on, infinitely. Know that feeling? Are you there? Or have been there?

I think a lot of us know that feeling. That’s what I perceive at least, looking at the world around me. Listening to friends and family, seeing their struggles with not being enough, never being enough. And I have to say… it really makes me question the way we’ve shaped society. Because I have a hard time to see how this serves anyone, let alone all of us collectively. I mean, you can argue that it makes people put their best effort to whatever it is they are involved in. But I honestly think it costs more than we get. The energy drained is more than what’s generated from those efforts, performed under stress, duress, unhappiness.

I, for one, know that when I stopped engaging so much with that type of thought/feeling, all of a sudden, I had so much more energy! The energy I used in beating myself up for not being enough, all of a sudden could be utilized for much more contructive things. I had energy to spare, to engage myself, to activate myself, to take better care of myself, to interact with the world around me in the way I want to show up in the world.

I am not enough.
It’s a thought. And perhaps, at times, it’s fact. That’s true. But I do believe, more often it’s an opinion. And as such, it’s worthwhile asking yourself How does this serve me? Asking that question might help you see the opinion for what it is, and realize that you have a choice in whether or not to engage in it, or not. Where’s your energy best spent, I ask? Beating yourself up for not being enough, or for more constructive things?

First published on my blog on August 19, 2020. Read the post here →

I turn off Spotify.
The pipes leading to the heaters gargle a bit, and a car drives by on the residential road outside. And there’s another one, farther away, on one of the larger streets a block or two away. My 16-year old son Benjamin semi-shouts Hey, hey upstairs, ensconced in his room, involved in a Valorant online-tournament with some friends, online-friends.
Car.
Another car.
And this ringing noise, slightly whining… is it but a figment of my imagination? Or perhaps, the residue of noise from just before, ruffling the sensory hairs in my ear canals, generating a high-pitched, yet more grass-rustling-in-the-wind-like noise.
I hear myself, breathing out. Breathing out again, and then, there, an even softer exhalation.
Benjamin scrapes his chair against the floor, which just so happens to be my ceiling, as he’s upstairs, and I am downstairs.
He laughs and yammers away, as I raise my head, looking out the window right in front of me, a head-movement accompanied by a crack in my neck, oops, another car on the street just outside the other window, the one to my right.
I’m sitting at the dining room table, the only table around, the kitchen too small for a kitchen table.
Look up again, another crack, but softer, more of a crick.
I inhale long, and deep, exhaling even longer.

In October of 2015, I went for a walk in the recreational park just across the street. It was a walk that etched itself deeply into my memories, as, for the first time, I s a w. I was more fully present to the beauty surrounding us, surrounding me, than I’d ever been before.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the beauty of fall as I am this year. And I don’t think fall has gotten more beautiful – I think the change is in me. I’ve never been so aware, never taken the time, to look, to see the colors, the contrast, the smell, the vibrancy. The energy!

Looking up once more, and yes, you know it, another crack.

It’s like an undulating wave, this paying attention and noticing. Now and again, I am at the peak of the undulation, totally present, attentive, noticing. Now and again, I am at the very bottom, lost to the world, nowhere close to the here and now. Most of the time, in movement along those undulations, headed towards attentiveness, or towards not-presenceness (a habit of mine. I make up words. Sometimes really good ones. Not sure this one qualifies though).

I started to slow down to the speed of life in 2013, perhaps even more so in 2014, and have kept on with that practice ever since. And I see now, as I sit here, that ringing tone still present within me, starting to believe it’s not within me after all, but something you might also hear, if you were here, sitting opposite me at the table, that me slowing down, simultaneously made me level up in the art of noticing and paying attention. Within, as well as without.

And I love it.
But, without a doubt, there’s a lot more attention- and noticing-powers within me, so I am upping the ante, willing myself to play around with this for the next few days (and… hopefully, forever and ever!).