Tankespjärn with Helena Roth

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.

It’s easy to not experience calm right now.

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

There are many things I have no say in.

But there are many things I have a say in.

There is calm to be had.

Can I always choose calm?

The choice is still there though.

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

Intimacy.

What armor do I have on me, preventing you from seeing-into-me?

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.

Oh. So. Many. Choices.

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

And.

That’s what I wanna get to.

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 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.

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.

It takes discernment and self-knowledge to know,

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

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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.

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

In an instant.

If I hadn’t looked up.

Doesn’t the missing-out-aspect require me to know what was, and know that I did not get to experience it?

Hah!

Yeah.

I cannot be present to everything all at once.

And what I am not present to I cannot experience.

Snow. Rain. Snow.

8:44.

What might I miss out on as a result?

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 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.

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

I turn off Spotify.

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.