One foot

One foot in front of the other – Faith, Belief and Vision 

Little did I know, the day I started 362 lights home, that I would have an almost 4-year detour on the way forward. Maybe detour is a bit strong word, since it did fill a purpose and more importantly put food on my children’s table, gave us a possibility to find a new and improved home as well as putting my back on the working market. 

The faith however, hasn’t always been with me. Sometimes the view been so mudding and I so tired I didn’t remember the path I was on. Where I was heading. Looking back, I can conclude though, that my belief must have stayed steady. One foot in front of the other every single day. I am back on MY path again. 

We survived.  

We grew up. 

There have been days when I have asked myself – were we spoiled? Catered or something? Or why did it all become, so hard suddenly?  I have even believed it in periods. Telling myself what an idiot I must have been. My mother must have been. 

While the truth is, we were just not prepared. 

Prepared for any such curveball. 

Prepared for generating everything ourselves. 

Prepared for every single little consequence being on us. 

But we did it. 

Hard lessons and hard work. 

Not even taking it away would be easy – because now we know – and we are prepared. And we have a Vision. A next chapter.   

We know in our hearts of hearts, that if we belief and stick to it will happen. We will reach whatever we set out minds too. 

Dreams and wishes turned into goals and accomplishments. 

Things I even forgotten, but remember now looking back. 

School diplomas. Animals saved. New languages. Qualify for a credit card or loan. Being able to buy chocolate every day if we wanted to. New town. New friends. 

Looking forward to the next chapter – this is what they call faith isn’t it? 

297 signals to go. On my way home.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

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.

How do you know that you are on the right path?

So how do you know that you are on the right path, when everything and everybody (!) is telling you the opposite?

Deep breath.

Getting out of my head space and into the body.

Being grounded right here , in the life, right now.

So I am giving myself permission to give and for now I don’t have any better tool than this.

Deep breath.

So how do you know that you are on the right path, when everything and everybody (!) is telling you the opposite?

  • My heart is at peace (which drives some even more insane..)
  • I fall asleep easily and I have vivid dreams (don’t always know what they mean, but I can recall parts…).
  • Children and animals understand me instantly (no need for confusing explanations and arguments).
  • Knowledge and understanding comes with ease (even when I don’t know why or from where).
  • There is a constant dialogue with all types of higher forms and the signs are seen and considered (no missed opportunities, delayed conversations and wondering what to do next).
  • Giving or sharing (even to a stranger)comes without thinking.

This list can go on and be even deeper.

What I thought was “wrong with me” is actually my genuinely real talent and gift. And I can use it and act from it in many many forms.

To come away from linard conclusions, preempted knowledge, win whatever strategies – this is more about expending in the (3 dimensional) being.

A misused purpose that may have actually harmed rather than lifted, taken out of its context and denying its source and roots.

Rewired brain waves and revived heart energy.

For today let’s just finish there. Letting it sink in and know it is more to come.

347 signal to go.

Image courtesy of ntwowe at





Sad strokes

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then…

Today is the first day, of a week of tests, that my oldest is doing to enter University. All set and she is looking at schools abroad. At the same time the next one is planning a life in Asia…and what am I doing?

Me and the dogs. I get this is the time when my creativity is to blossom and I will have all time in the world doing all those things I never could as a young adult, but what were those things?

All I can remember was that I wanted my own family [and not anything like the one I had]. An international life, speaking several languages, learn film, politics and business…

…but the sad strokes of the upcoming solitude are already hitting me. How much fun we have had. Crazy stupid messy situations, that has become funny memories now.

I think of my mother too. How much of all this she is missing, when she didn’t have to. How scared and sad she must have been. How few of the things she planned we never did. Conversations never had.

But before that we have one more year all together and then me and the little one have at least another 4-5 years to camp together and do more crazy, messy, funny things.

Feelings are friends Doreen Virtue says. I am like a very old bottle starting to crack up, with the liquid zippering slowly down its sides. Still feeling primarily blocked and locked in.

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then on the feet again doing all my little things, such as being the school drive, the consultant, the house made, the animal manager… I smile.

Life’s contradictions and sarcastic ironies. Maybe God does think we don’t have enough humour?

Cracks let the light in, so let the light be love and the love happiness.

Happy and sad – sappy – and grateful.

348 signals left to come home.

Image courtesy of rakratchada torsap at