A possible miracle in the bag

…unravel some type of relationship to a book…

This is my first read of A Course In Miracles and I am about half way through the text- and the student book.

I have read quite a lot in my life, but what I like the best with ACIM is its way to somehow always be, just that one step ahead of you.

I say to myself I must be crazy or lost or confused and the next time I open the book it tells me exactly the same and what to do about it.

As much as it is a great experience to unravel some type of relationship to a book (if you can have that?) it also grounds me in the facts that we must all be so much more the same than I can ever imagine.

Something else it has established is that – before – when I used to be talking quite badly to myself for not doing this or that, or not keeping up  or not be as far ahead as I “planned”/”wanted”to – I am exactly where I am suppose to be – otherwise the book’s answer wouldn’t be so exact.

Often I leave the book open with the lesson I am on on my working desk – both as a gentle reminder, but also as a companion somehow. In the lack of other fellow ACIM people in my nearest circle the book itself has had to take on that role.

Days when I seem to be waking up running and never sitting down it happens I get as far as in the car, just to go back in again to pick it up and put it in my bag. Then it sits beside me on internet cafes, waiting rooms, waiting in traffic and so on.

I may never open it and just be checking in on it. You are ok down there? No pages squeezed? You could say there is some type of bonding with the possibility of a miracle, even when I have taken my hands off the hows, whens and wheres.

And so the day goes.

A little miracle is always possible.

337 signals coming home.

 

 

 

Revise plan

Something does have to be done now.I have to live this life as I mean it…

So it says on my weekly to do/goal if I don’t reach certain goals.

I have now lived through a couple of partly horrible days when that occurred.

So revised action is required.

About 12 years ago I set out on a journey – that at the time was just a personal little issue – to be a single mother AND be none dependant on the government for benefits or anything else for that matter.

Little did I know that it would become a battle of a lifetime and a quest that from time to time spans from having the right to say or do certain things to big social or economic issues.

Personal freedom runs very deep with me. Not so much due to anyone trying to suppress me, but simply because it is an urge that is very strong and very deep. Like eating, sleep, creativity or sex – the right to be the truest version of oneself.

I used to go about as if this was about external permissions and regulations – being liberal; pro globalisation, pro minority groups, animal rights etc.

I now realized that the biggest with all of it is myself. I am the judge, the victim, the crusader and the rebel all at the same time.

I thought it was about me not feeling so lost in the world, just to wake up to a madness, that is so screwed it becomes about plain survival practically, emotionally, socially and financially.

Being an observer, a creative, a deeply connected person this is not going to be easy – but it the only way I have. Every day I don’t remember why I taken this path. Lead when it would be so much easier to follow. Maybe it is the notion that whatever has to happen has to happen fast – something has to be done right now. And maybe it isn’t just about me, but about all of us.

Something does have to be done now.

I have to live this life as I mean it…

338 signal to go. Finding my way.

Image courtesy of surasakiStock at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Breathe, woman, breathe!

My daughter looks at me seriously and says I am over working it. Again. She is very wise. Always has been…

Today is still a day in waiting.

Responses. Feedback. Agreements and activations.

It is like hearing the thunder on a distance and holding your breath while you wait for the sky to open up and the rain finally come.

It is painfully slow. Never have I been so aware how much I have always depended on my own doings and actions. I don’t trust anything or anyone really by the look of it. Now I have to let other people in. Let them be part of my life. Do their part and trust it is all for the overall good of everybody.

I catch myself not breathing at all or holding my breathe simply forgetting about it.

It is annoying how bad I am at just letting go and let it be.

Breathe, woman, breathe!

I get a glimpse of clarity and then I fall back in the slowness of things again. That is what it feels like anyway. My daughter looks at me seriously and says I am over working it. Again. She is very wise. Always has been. To change her tempo for anyone else has never been her thing.

So let’s focus on the clarity. When I listen and follow my own inner flow scheduling is totally useless. I can’t schedule it at all and it is simply disturbing when I have to stop because of some outer expectation pressing.

I can see every step I need to take and how they add up to the path I am led to take. I am in creativity heaven…and then I need to ground myself again and again.

Earthly commitments and responsibilities.

I like grounding but I don’t like how we so easily attack each other to make things happen faster, better, or our way…we simply attempt to change other people’s paths too much.

Hmm. Need to digest that some more.

Now breathe. In and out and in again.

339 little signals to light. On my way.

Image courtesy of Christian Meyn at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

 

Trusting the process

I never thought much about the throwing up, so why about the crying?…

Lately I have been putting a lot of effort on a particular part of my work. To the level that yesterday I felt like I was going to cry because I couldn’t come up with anything more I possibly could do…

Then a tiny voice reminded me not to rely everything on myself.

Walk away. Take a walk literally. Trust your efforts.

Anxiety left, but now I sit here again staring at it like some new planted seeds, which hasn’t started to show up yet. Like I could speed up the processes by keeping looking at it.

Now it is time to let the process process. The cake to bake. The seed  to crack and grow – by itself.

So what do you do when the cake is in the oven? When the tree is nurturing its fruit? The baby growing?

Take care of myself. Keep busy with something else. Intentionally distract myself if need be. Enjoying the down time.

Breath.

I assume crying like that is the same as when you run a race and throw up in the end. You give it your all and a bit more. Completely turning yourself inside out…

I never thought much about the throwing up, so why about the crying?

It is just telling me I did gave it my all – just as I set out to do – and that is all I can do.

Now it is time to move on. Do the – next – right – thing.

I’m fine. All is well. I am on my way. 340 signals to go.

Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid  at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

 

The things we do NOT think about

If someone outspokenly told me they were going to teach me a fear based thinking pattern and that I would defend it against myself…

Together with whales and dolphins we are the spices with the most developed front-lobes aka we can think. Then how does it come that we more often than not wake up to situations where we clearly haven’t?

If someone outspokenly told me they were going to teach me a fear based thinking pattern and that I would defend it against myself with the help of pride, expectations and possible humiliation I would probably have said no thank you.

But no one asked me. And in hindsight I doubt anyone asked them. It was just the way it was done.

We scare small children into an emotional dependency and then we tell them about right and wrong. Good or bad. Love and hate. Belonging and separation. Inclusion and exclusion.

Not everybody does this. It is a very dualistic and a Christian/Jewish way to define the world.

As much as I wish it was not the case I have to admit this occurred to me just lately. I simply never bothered to think about it.

So I thought most of the world was unsafe. Down to the very relationship with myself.

Trust didn’t exist. Anywhere.

To actively retrain is not always easy, but I persist. So I think.

Varied results yes, but I keep at it.

Universal laws, metaphysics, spirituality, religion, self-help, traditions, habits. You name it.

Read. Read. Read. Think. Think. Think. Read again.

Maybe this is the liberty of not having any parents or older relatives alive? Nobody there to put you back in place again…

341 signals to go.

Image courtesy of khunaspix at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

Days of deep thinking

Are we this uncomfortable or untrained in talking about feelings?

At the moment my access to internet is not constant. What first may seem like a complete disaster has turned out to something quite good and actually helps me focus. I read, write, hang with the kids – and think.

On this discovery of understanding and finding of myself, as a complete being with feelings, it is some things that first confused me, that now is becoming clearer, but not entirely yet.
As much as I enjoy finding a “tribe” in fellow sensitive and seeking spirits I have also become painfully aware of a quite passive aggressive and undermining language used against me or “us” as a community.
If I express any other feelings than “I love this or that” or “you are amazing” I am referred to as a drama queen. And out of the many things you do could call me drama queen isn’t really it. [If something dramatic does happen I never soak, I never call anyone, I don’t intrigue – I am the type that rather back out, shut down and go very quiet…].
So to say I am sad or this is hard or I need help is actually quite difficult – so I am practising. Not in an accusing way, but more of a matter of fact – this is what I feel right now. With the kids is working quite well. We have an open conversation about it and have by now agreed not to accuse each other and if the other one just want to be alone or talk, to respect that. When I talk about it, so do they I have noticed. Everything is more open and we are getting to know each other more closely.
In the outside world it is quite the opposite. If you don’t answer fine to the 5-times-per-day-how-are-you you are weird or something slightly wrong with you. I always wondered why people ask in the first place when they are so not interested in the answer. [on that note I always also wondered how Italians know what you are talking about when the start to talk themselves before you finished…?].
Are we this uncomfortable or untrained in talking about feelings?
If someone tells me anything else but fine I usually feel relieved. It is like it gives me permission both to actually engage on a somewhat slightly deeper level with this person, as well as it allows me to express myself in a deeper way.
So I don’t get the drama queen stuff. Nor do I understand the empath down talk.
I am however going to try to find the golden middle way and come back to it in a later post.

342 signals to go.

 

Drowning in a water glass

Falling into a 2m deep hole covered by snow finding Ground Zero…

When I was very young and first started school it was mandatory to learn how to swim and dive.

I remember especially when we suppose to jump from the higher (3m) trampolin. My big worry was when I finally arrived in the water, that I would misunderstand what was up and down, and swim in the wrong direction and consequently die because I would never have enough time to get back up to the surface in time due to my little detour.

So I never dive from from any heights. Not then and not now.

Now I know that if I am confused down there I just blow out some air and it will show me where is up, however now I am concerned if I would hit something I can’t see from the surface on my down.

And die and never come up.

Another time I accidently fell into a 2m deep hole covered by snow, so once in it I had no idea what it was, how deep it was and where safety was. And I was fully winter dressed and it was around 40 cm of snow so no one could hear me mumbling around there.

Eventually I had to give up – I couldn’t stay afloat longer.

So I let myself sink.

And sink.

The layer of snow vanished over my head like icebergs.

Eternally and evergreen and I would just be forever gone.

But.

Then I hit the bottom.

And when I hit the bottom I realized I could jump myself up.

And when I could jump I could explore where there was something to hold on to.

And once I done that I could climb up.

And once up I could walk home.

I almost drowned – in a hole – made for a waterpump on the back side of someone’s summer house, which they left uncovered during the winter – in a water glass it felt like.

The sinking – regardless of if it is air, water or in our minds – is the scary part. Am I dying? what will that be like? Will it happen soon or w ill I experience pain first? How far away is it? Is this the beginning or the end?

Surviving at this stage isn’t always an option. Everything is surrendered and we sink.

Flying through the air. Sinking like stones in water. Lost in our minds.

And then the crash. Hitting rock bottom.

And we wake up. (Hopefully).

Our personal Ground Zero.

343 signals home. Pushing upwards.

Image courtesy of winnond at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

Resistance

It talks they say.

I try to listen.

Sometimes I wish to just scream “ I’m just tired ok!”…

It talks they say.

I try to listen.

Sometimes I wish to just scream “ I’m just tired ok!”.

I need to sort out business, my life, prepare rehearsals, finish a book script, do fund raising for one of my projects, build a new network in a new industry, study and do tons of research, sort my mother’s affairs, manage animals and kids, be the taxi driver, take care of myself – did I say that already? – no? – there you go…

I used to think that if it was something I resisted and I did it anyway – despite feeling u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e – that would be good. And that things I resisted where I plainly avoided them would make me b-a-d.

I am not so sure anymore.

Doing something that you really resist, as in breaking new grounds or compounding something, can be next to addictive. Keeping you on a high – for too long.

Things I avoid that makes me feel really bad has taught me at least two things. One is that feeling that bad as I do/did is simply a sign of guilt over something, that I have to ask myself really deeply if I could have controlled? Most of the time that wasn’t the case. Things just are sometimes. Good intentions and all I also have to surrender and maybe this is what it is teaching me?

The other thing is – more importantly – when someone tries to guilt ride me and I go on that trip with them, eventually I risk that it becomes detrimental. So I have to resist. I have to keep distance and not take things to heart. Because my heart really does takes to it.

I wish I could say ”I’m sorry, but if I get involved and personally invested I will have a heart attack”…

I tried twice and both ended in me being accused of even worse. So no point.

Often I am just quiet. I am there and I think that would make whoever feel that I attend their issue, but no. They talk themselves into the most fascinated conclusions taking my lines too.

So I burn. I burn from energy of the fear, the unfairness, the hurt, the guilt I take in from others. So unless I have had the time to protect myself beforehand I now simply don’t interact.

So maybe it isn’t resistance, but self-care. And when I do this I can keep the distance to see if this all comes from other things. Unknowingly I triggered something? But that is ok.

By keeping myself emotionally clean I can see their innocence. Even my own.

Things can be un-done.

So resistance is after all good. It tells me where I am emotionally vulnerable, over engaged or not letting something go when it is passed my mental due date.

344 signals to go.

 

On my own

This is the first day and night I spend on my own since my mother passed away…

This is the first day and night I spend on my own since my mother passed away.

My girls picked up their stuff from the car and returned me the keys and then wandered off to spend a day and a half at a hotel with my ex, swimming in the pool and watching football.

All so that I “could work”.

First I kept busy studying, researching, writing emails – put this blog out there for the first time – trying to understand html coding…

…got myself so worked up I ended up writing a deep and long email about the mental mobilization required to launch an online campaign…to the technical support [do-not-reply-to-this-email] guy whose name is probably something I can’t pronounce, but I call him Henry.

By that time even my conscious brain was registering that this u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.

I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow I have to get from A to B.

And I didn’t want to cry sitting alone at a café[people always look horrified when you do –like they would have to do something – when you are two they can somehow pretend it is not up to them and at least try to look sympathetic].

I have cried a lot by myself this last year. Both openly and alone. So now I know and normally I don’t care anymore. If I need to cry I cry. But today everything seemed u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.

Since I suspected they were talking about me I eventually decided to leave. Smiling casually as if nothing ever happened.

And went to sit in the car.

I don’t like to drive, but I like to sit in the car. Close all doors, pull the seat back, take my shoes off and read or meditate – often I do a lot of hand writing.

When my mother was still alive and in the house I used to do my morning reading in A course of Miracles in the car. As if the distance between the house and the parking lot would have any relevance.

So I try to chill in the car. It works a little bit. I write something. Feeling a little it more in control.

Eventually I decide to drive home.

After being busy feeding and giving water to everybody and dotting around the house I sit down.

We don’t really talk me and the dogs. I mean not out loud. We do our thing, but the is no conversation.

And in the house there are no teenage slamming of doors, no music constantly on somewhere, no phone calls, no playing with puppies – just silence.

Far away traffic, some birds singing, some dog sighing, another one sneezing.

When I sit down, so do they. Nobody moves.

If I do move, they all attend me, rushing up to see if I possible would drop them anything.

I go out in the kitchen making myself a cup of soup and some bread.

Like a ball thrown too hard in your solar plexus the loneliness hits me. But now I can’t cry.

It is stuck somewhere in between.

I am supposed to be the grown up and I feel like calling them right up, telling them to come home right away.

But I don’t.

I take my work calls and pretend everything is just normal…

I miss them s-o-o-o much.

I go back to the laptop. Distract myself. Write all this.

Pretend there is someone on the other side. Just like me. All alone.

Signing out. 345 signals home.

Creative overflow striking

When we create we can laugh at our mistakes – we can see the trying meaning so much more than the to-be-or-not-to-be of a certain result. I don’t really…

So I used to have this label on me as the business strategist, but the more I am putting it to the side, the more feelings (which some days are really overwhelming) are flowing and, in the moments of renounced internal peace, big chunks of creativity.

It makes me happy. Creativity make me happy. Not just because I loose a bit connection with all worldly problems, but because it is fun. It is a space I love to be in.

When we are in that flow we are directly communicating with Universe and not always to conventional way. But who cares? It makes you feel energized, have faith and hope and problem solving becomes something funny and entertaining.

For me a lot of creative work has been associated with mastery. However as much as I love the satisfaction of mastering a particular skill or appreciate someone else’s ability and performance, I have come to see the gold in the process. And not just for professionals – for any one. What healing power it has. Mood changer it is. Initiator.

The best is – when we create we can laugh at our mistakes – we can see the trying meaning so much more than the to-be-or-not-to-be of a certain result. I don’t really get what happens between school and adulthood, but somehow everything tends to become very stale and stiff.

The big good or bad of a dualistic world. Being born Christian and raised accordingly it is sad to say that I have a feeling our so called Christian interpretations have been so misinterpreted and had such a horrible effect on society. Yes, I know there is a lot of good too, but this – about the good and the bad – the sinner and the saint – that is a misinterpretation that is man made up and only used to install power positions and separation.

It is inevitable to be thinking of the massacre in USA saying this… It is not just justice and fairness that comes to mind, but what do we actually do when, in reality, when law (or whatever legal threat is applicable in the related state) is out of the game?

I mean when people don’t care if they will die – nothing will stop them but changes in the consciousness – and how do we really genuinely have those?

In creativity we are equal. We may have different resources and be differently prepared, but in the moment we are all equal and we can all co-create for the better.

So maybe break the ice of separation by simply smiling – works even when we don’t speak the same language?

346 signals of joy to go.