The Talk

No, this is not about sex…

No, this is not about sex…

Sometimes I get like cramps or sticking feeling over the chest and today was one of those days. This can come and go and be away for a while and then something happens and it is there again.

Yes – this is real and it is serious, so today I had to have The Talk with my youngest daughter – and it was not easy. I could see she was trying to keep her tears back and was stressed about what she had to remember – everything from what she would have to say to person answering when calling 112 to all sort of facts to remember and how to be able to explain a specific location if something ever happened and we wouldn’t be at home.

I grew up with my grandma and not anyone of my parents and when she died none of her children (3) were there. A few days before we had The Talk. She predicted her kids would fight over the cash – quietly she gave me her weddings rings despite the plain band and put them in my hand – “incase you ever come in trouble and they won’t help you”.

I don’t have any wedding rings. So what do I tell her? In case we only have a few hours left?

This is what I told her – after we gone over how to call for emergency help and what to do in the meantime – “you know that little voice that speaks to you, when you play or are all by yourself, if I am not here that is the one you should listen to – noone else. Always trust what your gut is telling you and if you’re unsure, go somewhere quiet and just be still and wait – it will speak to you sooner or later”.

And then a quick ten minutes crash course in how to be financially independent and what to expect of a trader and a banker and what reinvesting means in reality and how it works.

“But mummy – I know you’re strong and you wouldn’t want to die now”.

“I know, sweetie, but just in case ok”.

“OK, can we still do the bank thing in the meantime?”.

It is now 3 hours later and after 5 separate cramps it hasn’t come back – so yes – we can do “the bank thing” in the meantime.

326 signals to come home.

 

 

 

I am Malin and you call me George?

Maybe men identify with the suffering on the cross – however I am certain women cringe every time we see, hear or witness any harm done to any child, girl, woman, mother, grandma – physical OR verbal. We burn. That is the feeling we know.

Every morning I do some spiritual reading. ACIM (A Course In Miracles)most of the time.

And now I have a question to those who knows this better than me:

I can ground myself.

I can feel the earth under my feet and resonate with it.

I can co-create and all sort of amazing things fly through my mind.

I understand the emotional concept of the Father and Mother Earth.

I can feel the sense of all mighty protection and divine creativity and safety.

Every time there is an exercise where I have to meditate or think in the lines of “You are a Son of God”it slips through my fingers…

It feels like I am Malin and you call me George.

Why are we not Children of God? Or if I really want to dig deep – Daughters of God?

I fully comprehend and understand the concept of equality – but do we have to be in denial about diversity that makes every individual unique? So special?

I am not big on using the word God to begin with – even if I understand it – I am however big on feeling it and experiencing it.

Maybe men identify with the suffering on the cross – however I am certain women cringe every time we see, hear or witness any harm done to any child, girl, woman, mother, grandma – physical OR verbal. We burn. That is the feeling we know.

You may be my Brother, but I am your Sister. And we all belong together.

That is what I know.

You write Son. I read Daughter. You say George. I hear Malin.

Connecting my dots.

Is this off path?

331 signals home.

Image courtesy to Hyena reality at FreeDigitalPhotos.net