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

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.