Time for surrendering

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when…

So here I am, a few weeks later, attending my first facilitated session.

Yep, to really get this, whatever it is out of my system, I figured I couldn’t do it alone. I simply couldn’t see myself for all my selves so to speak.

So this is what I do now every Sunday. Clearing my energy and do facilitated meditation combined with healing conversations.

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when meditating. Tears swimming over and very slowly rolling down my face. I don’t even try to catch or stop them.

To me meditation is like bubbles coming down from the sky to greet you. Slowly they surround you to eventually encapsulate you in their safe white light. They become so many suddenly it is like you are sitting in a whole sea of them – bubble bathing.

When I breathe through my heart it bleeds and colours the bubbles pink.

I sit.

Very still.

In the pain.

My intellectual side can’t entirely figure it out. I want it to be obvious and clear and something I can fix. But I can’t. It has been with me almost since my first memories as a very young child. This sorrow my mother hated so much. Or at least that was what I thought she did. Maybe she simply just didn’t know what to do with it…

So we sit.

The pain and I.

“Universal”, the facilitator says.

Still doesn’t clear anything. Like I am my own riddle I can’t crack.

“Trust that you are guided and it will come to you”.

I get that this is the pain that drives me. That I seek it to heal something. That I hide from it when I can’t handle it anymore. It is why I have the life I have. Why I made all those good or less good choices.

When I leave I am very grounded. Cleared. I parked a bit a way, so I would get a natural walk afterwards. The word unity echoes in my head. It was mentioned in a by passing sentence, but it has stayed with me. And I don’t like it. I don’t want it to be unity. It feels trivial and pathetic somehow.

Surrender women. Surrender.

I keep on walking.

When I come home I reflect that it looks like nobody lives here. Somebody sleeps here, but nothing else. I feel a bit bad about it, but encourage myself that I at least reflect over it. That must be a good sign right?

I feel like I am 12 years old and starting all over again. But I am starting.

Everything has a first step.

312 signals to go. On my way home.

Image courtesy to 9comeback at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Kind conversations

Why do we expect that because we written something to someone – that they should be ready to respond instantly – and exactly the way we want to? Why is it so hard to let things be and allow some mystery?

I have for periods in my life really focused on changing my language, but it never seems to be really perfect or it can always improve…

Lately I have pondered on the lack of kindness  and gentleness in both the language towards ourselves as well as in the formal communication.

Why do we expect that because we written something to someone – that they should be ready to respond instantly – and exactly the way we want to? Why is it so hard to let things be and allow some mystery?

Do I really have to know the logical answer to why for every single thing?

Universal laws are as logic as it gets right – so why this immense need of sense that we even make it up with our little home made stories to why this or why that?

Is it our ability to create or creative thinking that back fires?  It just kicks off itself regardless what it is about? Or we need to understand what is around us and when we have a story we feel safe? Safer?

I have always had an attraction to the Socrates way of thinking – that all answers are within – and it is all about the conversations we have – or don’t have…

Now I am asking myself how to be more kind and how to use questions as a bridge to heal those gaps of misunderstandings, confusion and possible hurt.

What questions do you use when dealing with opposite opinions or conflicts?

And how do you untangle contradictive conversations with yourself?

Define.Define.Define. Is my new mantra to myself.

332 signals to go. Gently coming home.