"If you embrace me, I´ll bring you to the wonderland of magic pearls and stars of freedom will forever guide your way."
How do one resist to that? I fell in the arms of that stranger, still, but floated off in a split of a second and into a blinding light.
What happened next? I don´t remember. I wandered off from were I used to go and took another route. Do I change my mind? No, how can I. I don´t even remember what it feels like being lost.
"Take the blue pill and I´ll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes." Do you remember, I used to quote that frase. Now I know what it´s all about. What it feels like to fall into that well and believe it to be endless. However, it´s not. It has got an end, but it looks like nothing you´ll ever seen before, that´s for sure. I can´t reveal any more about the outcome. Yours willbe different from mine. But if you dare go down the deepest lane, you´ll find that freedom will meat you halfway. And when you become aware that there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing else to see then what you have already seen, then you are already at the bottom. Awareness is an end in itself, as they say, and it´s true.
It works.
12 september 2009
6 september 2009
into oneness...
I call out, before my eyes, I see but all your names.
So beautiful the world of peace, within and in your grace.
I´ve lived befor, yet born again, I see what I did hide
from you, my God, I seak to find, the truth but open wide
From hurt and pain arises faith, my truth is mine revealed.
From faith a power, burning strong, my wounds my heart is healed.
In golden light I let my tears rejoin with tears of fredom
until my heart unburdened be and rapture fills the room.
What bliss, what joy! I see, I see! So simple life can be
Awareness is the greatest gift I´ve ever lived to See!
An enormous THANKS to all who made the Oneness Procsess able to join and go through. You gave me my heart back!
With Love!
p.
So beautiful the world of peace, within and in your grace.
I´ve lived befor, yet born again, I see what I did hide
from you, my God, I seak to find, the truth but open wide
From hurt and pain arises faith, my truth is mine revealed.
From faith a power, burning strong, my wounds my heart is healed.
In golden light I let my tears rejoin with tears of fredom
until my heart unburdened be and rapture fills the room.
What bliss, what joy! I see, I see! So simple life can be
Awareness is the greatest gift I´ve ever lived to See!
An enormous THANKS to all who made the Oneness Procsess able to join and go through. You gave me my heart back!
With Love!
p.
24 augusti 2009
facing oneness...
I leave by this time tomorow. If I´m lucky I will hold myself from crying when I say good bye, but I feel that I have the odds against me. He, that I hold so dear to my heart, will stand by, watching the plane take of. He doesnt know what I´m about to go through. Me neither, by the way, but at least I know it will be good. I´m in the hands of a God in whom I trust compleatly and I dont have to be afraid.
I love you, my darling. That will not change. Thus you don´t have to be afraid either.
My father, to, will see me of at the airport. As always when I´m of for a new adventure he´s the one taking me safe to and from the airport, harbour or station. Always the same calm and loving embrace before I go. Then, I know I´m to be safe, all the way and back again. Dear Father, how I love you for that... Thus you have always bin there for me, yet I have not always noticed and I´m sorry.
Mom, don´t cry. i´m back before you know it and I´ll cary all the sun you need back home with me, for you to experience whenever you need! Such is your love, and such the love I´ll return.
I may not be the same when I return. I may be just the same too. I dont expect anything. I just hope to be freed. If God needs me to, so be it. Come what may. I just want you to know that I love you all soo much and I pray the angels watch over you while I´m away.
Every miracle starts with a prayer.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti
I love you, my darling. That will not change. Thus you don´t have to be afraid either.
My father, to, will see me of at the airport. As always when I´m of for a new adventure he´s the one taking me safe to and from the airport, harbour or station. Always the same calm and loving embrace before I go. Then, I know I´m to be safe, all the way and back again. Dear Father, how I love you for that... Thus you have always bin there for me, yet I have not always noticed and I´m sorry.
Mom, don´t cry. i´m back before you know it and I´ll cary all the sun you need back home with me, for you to experience whenever you need! Such is your love, and such the love I´ll return.
I may not be the same when I return. I may be just the same too. I dont expect anything. I just hope to be freed. If God needs me to, so be it. Come what may. I just want you to know that I love you all soo much and I pray the angels watch over you while I´m away.
Every miracle starts with a prayer.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti
10 augusti 2009
A seekers path...
I have no heart left to talk about when the plane take off, the nausius feeling grabs hold on me and I know I have less than a day to my favour before I´m to be finished with this life.
Outside the smal plasic window the sun rises above the horizon below and cover the fields in gold and amber. Tears I knew I would be shedding starts acordingly to well up and my insides turns into a battlefield. To follow my intuition would mean getting up, screaming panicstrucked to the stuarts to get me off. Take me back down, I wanna get out! Causing a scene, yes, but following my heart. As a child I lurned to get my ways around and continuing as a grown up I have lurned to keep the distance needed to always be free to move in any direction. Take another route if I want to. The world do not bend as I want to but I know how to be flexible. In that way I say nothing but cry my tears as I had directed the scen already. I flex for the situation is out of my control and it´s already to late anyway.
And so I pick up, again, the memory of Him, whom I met and slowly go to know during long nights of frustrating conversations. Having the same opinion can be sinserily bad sometimes but we found in eachother a conection far better than expected. His name; Tom. Ocupation; Non. Brought up on the streets of Dublin, at the age of 15 hitch-hikeing all the way down to Barcelona were he stayed as long as it took him to by a ticket to Katmandu. Having heard about the lost land in the far-away East and feeling the strongest desire to get there some day. Working the ship-yard, loading and unloading crates and emballages for to little money. Sleeping ontop of the softer ones until the next ships at the dock signaled and called him to get back on his feet. To move on became his living, the signs of the world his guidence. When to get going, when to leave behind a love, a job, a city. By the age of 27 he had climbed the stairs to the top of the Eifeltower, got lost in the Pyrenees, traveled by bike from Albania to China and chased doves at the Red square in Moscow. He was indeed a slumdog and so much like me anyone could ever get, part from the suit, the refined surface of a young man old as the sea.
At the same age, we had had our turns with love and sorrow but although we had lived compleatly devided lives we seamed to have the same red string following along our stories. I told him about my restlessness, he talk about finding his Neverland. I ask what questiones he held, and he gave me mine in return. Days and nights had passed by while we entered each others palaces. Crying for the same reasons and fighting over peanuts. Off course the day came when we ended up making love, in the satinsheeted hotelbed at his, with the french balconydoors whide open to drown our sounds in the citys. Many nights after that first one we fell in love with each other again and again. Talking less and less about passed times and spending more in the prescent. We held hands in public, he payed for dinner. It could have bin the perfect life, millions of moments when we both understood that we indeed belonged together and from then on choosed to stay that way. Instead the day came when after sex, he fell asleep and I lay awake with an encreasing urge to leave. And without knowing why, I did. Snuck out and into the hall where I dressed quickly, sandals in hand and tiptoed all the way down to the lobby.
Next time I saw him were at the Three Brothers and a live band had turned the open area in the middle of the restaurant into a small 360 scene and by the time I got a table the music already moved in all directiones, filled the eyes of old men and the blood of travelers. Simple, yet enchanting it reminded me of gypsees and french kisses, cottonsheets smelling of autumn and never ending nights in Calcutta, all at the same time. He sat across the room in the company of friends and drinkers. His black hair shining wet, tanned arms and folded cottonsleves. The silver bracelet that he never took of as a never ending promise to his sister to return to Dublin one day. To me he was perfection in persona and this I realised right there and then, but when he turned and looked across the room and right into my eyes I knew why I had left that day. If I had not, he would have and sooner or later I would be the one with a broken heart. "Never trust a restless soul. Never put comfort in a wind." As my mom used to say. Still, it felt like he saw right through me, across the room, penetrating the music and put spears in my heart.
Why did´nt I ask of him to come along with me? Why did´nt he ask me to stay? I know why. The questions is only disruptive. My life will continue back home, along the seasons, with all the changes inbetween. His life fits in a suitcase and a wooden box, mutch like a painters. What is in it I do not know. I guess no one does but him self. Just as his heart and mind. Shared in bits and pieces but the rest held in secret and oblivion to all. I could feel his sadness as a chilly mist around him and sometimes pictures sliped trough his mental cover and I gave away a glimpse of who he had become. I never told him but tried to face his every aspect in a loving way. Now theres no turning back. The nausea gets even worse. Feeling dizzy I call the stuartress and ask for some water and a large wiskey. What am I doing? I never drink wiskey!? But the polite and most pretty girl returns quickly with my orderd beverages and I take a large mouthfull before I have the time to stop myself. It tastes aweful and I have to stop myself from caughing by the strong burn down my throught. However the releasing relaxation from the alcohol hits me instantly and I lean back, focusing on my breath and the warmth spreading from my gut.
Then, the lady sitting next to me, sleeping what it seemed like a minute agao, turnes to me and say; "Sometimes the bitternes of life has to be swallowed with an even more bitter fellow for a company cause eaven though it tastes better sweethearts does´nt do you any good." Then, with a blick of one eye, she leans back again and continue to sleep.
Strucked by surprise, I don´t know what to do or think. God moves in mysterious ways, thats for sure. And as if I´m pushed out of it, I suddenly feel very tired and the sounds of the engines slowly puts me to sleep.
Outside the smal plasic window the sun rises above the horizon below and cover the fields in gold and amber. Tears I knew I would be shedding starts acordingly to well up and my insides turns into a battlefield. To follow my intuition would mean getting up, screaming panicstrucked to the stuarts to get me off. Take me back down, I wanna get out! Causing a scene, yes, but following my heart. As a child I lurned to get my ways around and continuing as a grown up I have lurned to keep the distance needed to always be free to move in any direction. Take another route if I want to. The world do not bend as I want to but I know how to be flexible. In that way I say nothing but cry my tears as I had directed the scen already. I flex for the situation is out of my control and it´s already to late anyway.
And so I pick up, again, the memory of Him, whom I met and slowly go to know during long nights of frustrating conversations. Having the same opinion can be sinserily bad sometimes but we found in eachother a conection far better than expected. His name; Tom. Ocupation; Non. Brought up on the streets of Dublin, at the age of 15 hitch-hikeing all the way down to Barcelona were he stayed as long as it took him to by a ticket to Katmandu. Having heard about the lost land in the far-away East and feeling the strongest desire to get there some day. Working the ship-yard, loading and unloading crates and emballages for to little money. Sleeping ontop of the softer ones until the next ships at the dock signaled and called him to get back on his feet. To move on became his living, the signs of the world his guidence. When to get going, when to leave behind a love, a job, a city. By the age of 27 he had climbed the stairs to the top of the Eifeltower, got lost in the Pyrenees, traveled by bike from Albania to China and chased doves at the Red square in Moscow. He was indeed a slumdog and so much like me anyone could ever get, part from the suit, the refined surface of a young man old as the sea.
At the same age, we had had our turns with love and sorrow but although we had lived compleatly devided lives we seamed to have the same red string following along our stories. I told him about my restlessness, he talk about finding his Neverland. I ask what questiones he held, and he gave me mine in return. Days and nights had passed by while we entered each others palaces. Crying for the same reasons and fighting over peanuts. Off course the day came when we ended up making love, in the satinsheeted hotelbed at his, with the french balconydoors whide open to drown our sounds in the citys. Many nights after that first one we fell in love with each other again and again. Talking less and less about passed times and spending more in the prescent. We held hands in public, he payed for dinner. It could have bin the perfect life, millions of moments when we both understood that we indeed belonged together and from then on choosed to stay that way. Instead the day came when after sex, he fell asleep and I lay awake with an encreasing urge to leave. And without knowing why, I did. Snuck out and into the hall where I dressed quickly, sandals in hand and tiptoed all the way down to the lobby.
Next time I saw him were at the Three Brothers and a live band had turned the open area in the middle of the restaurant into a small 360 scene and by the time I got a table the music already moved in all directiones, filled the eyes of old men and the blood of travelers. Simple, yet enchanting it reminded me of gypsees and french kisses, cottonsheets smelling of autumn and never ending nights in Calcutta, all at the same time. He sat across the room in the company of friends and drinkers. His black hair shining wet, tanned arms and folded cottonsleves. The silver bracelet that he never took of as a never ending promise to his sister to return to Dublin one day. To me he was perfection in persona and this I realised right there and then, but when he turned and looked across the room and right into my eyes I knew why I had left that day. If I had not, he would have and sooner or later I would be the one with a broken heart. "Never trust a restless soul. Never put comfort in a wind." As my mom used to say. Still, it felt like he saw right through me, across the room, penetrating the music and put spears in my heart.
Why did´nt I ask of him to come along with me? Why did´nt he ask me to stay? I know why. The questions is only disruptive. My life will continue back home, along the seasons, with all the changes inbetween. His life fits in a suitcase and a wooden box, mutch like a painters. What is in it I do not know. I guess no one does but him self. Just as his heart and mind. Shared in bits and pieces but the rest held in secret and oblivion to all. I could feel his sadness as a chilly mist around him and sometimes pictures sliped trough his mental cover and I gave away a glimpse of who he had become. I never told him but tried to face his every aspect in a loving way. Now theres no turning back. The nausea gets even worse. Feeling dizzy I call the stuartress and ask for some water and a large wiskey. What am I doing? I never drink wiskey!? But the polite and most pretty girl returns quickly with my orderd beverages and I take a large mouthfull before I have the time to stop myself. It tastes aweful and I have to stop myself from caughing by the strong burn down my throught. However the releasing relaxation from the alcohol hits me instantly and I lean back, focusing on my breath and the warmth spreading from my gut.
Then, the lady sitting next to me, sleeping what it seemed like a minute agao, turnes to me and say; "Sometimes the bitternes of life has to be swallowed with an even more bitter fellow for a company cause eaven though it tastes better sweethearts does´nt do you any good." Then, with a blick of one eye, she leans back again and continue to sleep.
Strucked by surprise, I don´t know what to do or think. God moves in mysterious ways, thats for sure. And as if I´m pushed out of it, I suddenly feel very tired and the sounds of the engines slowly puts me to sleep.
17 juli 2009
A seekers path...
I open the door to the old church and expected to feel the relieving chill contained inside the stonebuilding. The mid-day sun, combined with the heavy humidity, as if it were to rain again, were almost unbarable. Even my palms were sweeting and my feet burned were the skin due to the sweat were in constant friction against my teva sandals. All morning I had listened to a lecture by an AidGroup, trying to explain why the best for the native people is not to be fed free food and taken care of, but told how to read and write. As long as the major part of the population is uneducated, it´s easy for the government to get their will through by bribes and coca-cola promises. All through the speach I listened carefully, but with a sick feeling in my pit, cause there I was, searching for my soul while traversing the country as a European trader and the obvious truth had a foul tast to it. Afterwards I turned down the tea-request and skidded off to find some remote place were I could gather my thoughts. The old church had a nice glow around it, even from a distance, yet simple and derelict. I was surpriced to find, as I walked trough the doors, that the front part of the roof had bin removed so that the insides almost looked like an atrium right above the altar. Letting the sun fall down beatuifully on the stonealtar and the place were the altarpieace used to hang and Magnolia had taken over. There were no chill, no ordinary feeling following when entering a church. This place were like a hidden gateway to other realms, lost in time and well kept from reality. It felt like entering the gates to Narnia or Shambala perhaps. There were no remaining benches and so I sat down in the grass, facing the magnific Magnolia and the sunlit altar. I felt sad. In my mind I noticed thoughts and memories comming back that I had left behind as I left the airport and my everyday life back home. Thoughts of value, destiny, purpose and the future path of mine. Throughout my life I had bin at constant move from one path to the other, no matter in what area. Changing field of profession, education or situation within only months sometimes. Never staying, never satisfied. Surely it made me flexible and experienced in many fields and areas, but I always longed for finding the One Mission of my life and as long as I did not, I always mourned meanwhile laughing no matter what I did. Silently I cried out to God.
"Why is it so hard for me to find the right thing to do? Why do I have to run around like this, searching, trying, failing, flieing.... No matter what I do there is always the feeling of incompleatness, always some area uncovered that I rather fill. If I do this, I long for that, and when I do that, I long for this! Why does it have to be like that?! GOD!? How can I come to term with the different aspects of me, so that they can work alongside and as a unity as I assert myself in the world?
The answer poped into my head when my own thoughts had cried out like that long enough and mind seamed to need a pause. When there was a gap where God got a chance to break in.
Is that the right question?
I was surpriced by the counterquestion.
"I don´t know."
Then ask yourself what is the right question.
"Uhm,...okay.... What question do I look for answers to at this time?"
What questions do you have?
"Well, lots! But I might not want to ask them out loud, I guess, even to myself, because it feels rather childish and stupid..."
Why, my child....?
Noticing the irony in this, I laughed out loud.
"Yea, okay, point well made.... I guess I do not want to start a new project. Im tired of starting over... Tired of the constant challange. "
So, what are your questions?
"Well, I guess my question is what the right thing is, for me to do. I would like, no, I need to know how I can find a vocation that really fits me as a person? What job is fullfilling both in creative and spiritual ways? It feels like I´m trying and trying, searching and searching.... I do not want to spend all of my life like this! I need your help!"
Is there a need to find this job or is there a job that needs it to find you...?
"Is there a job that needs me!?"
Off course there is.
"Then how can I find the way to it?"
By opening up to the fact that you are, indeed, needed. By acually letting me help you.
"But, I were never needed... by anyone... I am not used to thinking like that...."
Is that true?
"Yes...To me it is..."
Then what happens if you do not believe in it anymore?
"But this is what I have lived to believe. What others have proved to me. No one has ever needed me."
What if I need you?
You! Why whould you need me?
I need everyone, all pieces of creation I need, or else the creation would not be whole.
"So, I should ask you were you need me...instead of asking myself were I need to be."
Exactly.
I had to take a deap breath here. Return to focusing on the enviroment, halting my thoughts for a while. If God needed me, then why did I try so hard to find my own path? If God new, then why did I search for answers everywere else? I felt I had to ask how to let God run the show, but I already knew the answer to it to. The duality of faith, the hardest task for humanity, to let go and trust in God. The only forum we´ve got is the prayer and even that is a oneway conversation. The sublime force of God being all to easy to dubt when not manifested clear enough or as we emagened or want.
"If you need me.... then I want to be at your service. I have always wanted to be at your service but I have never understood how. Your ways seams to difficult, to demanding or to far from real life-living.... Somehow it feels like Im not ready to follow, to let go of control but it´s easier to go on, trying the best I can by my own and play it safe. Perhaps Im not ready to give up."
Why would it be to give up?
"I dont know. Perhaps because I dont know what you want me to do..."
You don´t have to do anything.
"I know. But that is the most difficult thing to!"
Can I help you?
"Yes. Please do!"
Close your eyes. Now emadgen a beach, mileswide and the blue pasific infront of you. Emadgen you together with a friend that you´ve known forever. Your best friend. Now emadgen what you say to him or her, as you watch the ocean.
"I wouldnt say anything. Its just a good feeling that needs no words."
Then that is what I want. Now emadgen a forrest, filled with treas and roots and branches all over, like the rainforrest you saw in Peru. Emagden your in the middle of it, and your friend is with you. Emadgen what you say to him or her.
"I wouldnt say anything. I would only watch and be fascinated by it all. Perhaps holding hands though, if I were a little overwelmed or scared."
Then that is what I want. What if you were is a big city, doing the same.
"Then I get the feeling of wanting to get away."
Then you know that is not the place for you.
"Yes, I understand. I need to emadgen myself in a situation and pay attention to what I feel, and the feeling will tell if you want me to be there or not."
I continued to emadgen myself in different areas, different situations and noticed how I felt. At work, with kids, in an airplane and so on. At one point I emadgened myself infront of a pool with dolphins in it and as I slid down and into the water I was suddenly overwelmed by emotions and started crying. At the same time sadness and an enormous healing. Hearing my sobbs and wailing and it sounded like I were a dolphin to, releaving my heart to them. The feeling that followed, the imense peace, made me get back up unto the ground, wanting to stay, being a dolphin like them. But it was as if they said, look, you are a human now, enjoy it! And all of a sudden I felt so free. Realising that there is accually nothing I have to do but to enjoy life. What I really wanted, I noticed, was to feel peace in my heart. As I did at the beach and in the forrest. With peace in my heart it would be easy to live according to Gods will.
"If that is what you want God, then how can i find peace in my heart?
By not running away from what you feel.
I stayed for a long time in the church. The sun soon moved beyond the edge of the roof and let shadow fall upon me and the atrium and scents of the evening had already filled the air as I left. The magnoliablossoms had closed thier petals for this day but I had opened up for a new way to understand God.
"Thank you." I thought as I strolled back towards the citycenter. "Thank you for helping me understand, God. Thank you for being a feeling inside of me. Thus you are always with me."
And as I noticed the peace inside, I smiled and knew that it was true. That it was God.
"Why is it so hard for me to find the right thing to do? Why do I have to run around like this, searching, trying, failing, flieing.... No matter what I do there is always the feeling of incompleatness, always some area uncovered that I rather fill. If I do this, I long for that, and when I do that, I long for this! Why does it have to be like that?! GOD!? How can I come to term with the different aspects of me, so that they can work alongside and as a unity as I assert myself in the world?
The answer poped into my head when my own thoughts had cried out like that long enough and mind seamed to need a pause. When there was a gap where God got a chance to break in.
Is that the right question?
I was surpriced by the counterquestion.
"I don´t know."
Then ask yourself what is the right question.
"Uhm,...okay.... What question do I look for answers to at this time?"
What questions do you have?
"Well, lots! But I might not want to ask them out loud, I guess, even to myself, because it feels rather childish and stupid..."
Why, my child....?
Noticing the irony in this, I laughed out loud.
"Yea, okay, point well made.... I guess I do not want to start a new project. Im tired of starting over... Tired of the constant challange. "
So, what are your questions?
"Well, I guess my question is what the right thing is, for me to do. I would like, no, I need to know how I can find a vocation that really fits me as a person? What job is fullfilling both in creative and spiritual ways? It feels like I´m trying and trying, searching and searching.... I do not want to spend all of my life like this! I need your help!"
Is there a need to find this job or is there a job that needs it to find you...?
"Is there a job that needs me!?"
Off course there is.
"Then how can I find the way to it?"
By opening up to the fact that you are, indeed, needed. By acually letting me help you.
"But, I were never needed... by anyone... I am not used to thinking like that...."
Is that true?
"Yes...To me it is..."
Then what happens if you do not believe in it anymore?
"But this is what I have lived to believe. What others have proved to me. No one has ever needed me."
What if I need you?
You! Why whould you need me?
I need everyone, all pieces of creation I need, or else the creation would not be whole.
"So, I should ask you were you need me...instead of asking myself were I need to be."
Exactly.
I had to take a deap breath here. Return to focusing on the enviroment, halting my thoughts for a while. If God needed me, then why did I try so hard to find my own path? If God new, then why did I search for answers everywere else? I felt I had to ask how to let God run the show, but I already knew the answer to it to. The duality of faith, the hardest task for humanity, to let go and trust in God. The only forum we´ve got is the prayer and even that is a oneway conversation. The sublime force of God being all to easy to dubt when not manifested clear enough or as we emagened or want.
"If you need me.... then I want to be at your service. I have always wanted to be at your service but I have never understood how. Your ways seams to difficult, to demanding or to far from real life-living.... Somehow it feels like Im not ready to follow, to let go of control but it´s easier to go on, trying the best I can by my own and play it safe. Perhaps Im not ready to give up."
Why would it be to give up?
"I dont know. Perhaps because I dont know what you want me to do..."
You don´t have to do anything.
"I know. But that is the most difficult thing to!"
Can I help you?
"Yes. Please do!"
Close your eyes. Now emadgen a beach, mileswide and the blue pasific infront of you. Emadgen you together with a friend that you´ve known forever. Your best friend. Now emadgen what you say to him or her, as you watch the ocean.
"I wouldnt say anything. Its just a good feeling that needs no words."
Then that is what I want. Now emadgen a forrest, filled with treas and roots and branches all over, like the rainforrest you saw in Peru. Emagden your in the middle of it, and your friend is with you. Emadgen what you say to him or her.
"I wouldnt say anything. I would only watch and be fascinated by it all. Perhaps holding hands though, if I were a little overwelmed or scared."
Then that is what I want. What if you were is a big city, doing the same.
"Then I get the feeling of wanting to get away."
Then you know that is not the place for you.
"Yes, I understand. I need to emadgen myself in a situation and pay attention to what I feel, and the feeling will tell if you want me to be there or not."
I continued to emadgen myself in different areas, different situations and noticed how I felt. At work, with kids, in an airplane and so on. At one point I emadgened myself infront of a pool with dolphins in it and as I slid down and into the water I was suddenly overwelmed by emotions and started crying. At the same time sadness and an enormous healing. Hearing my sobbs and wailing and it sounded like I were a dolphin to, releaving my heart to them. The feeling that followed, the imense peace, made me get back up unto the ground, wanting to stay, being a dolphin like them. But it was as if they said, look, you are a human now, enjoy it! And all of a sudden I felt so free. Realising that there is accually nothing I have to do but to enjoy life. What I really wanted, I noticed, was to feel peace in my heart. As I did at the beach and in the forrest. With peace in my heart it would be easy to live according to Gods will.
"If that is what you want God, then how can i find peace in my heart?
By not running away from what you feel.
I stayed for a long time in the church. The sun soon moved beyond the edge of the roof and let shadow fall upon me and the atrium and scents of the evening had already filled the air as I left. The magnoliablossoms had closed thier petals for this day but I had opened up for a new way to understand God.
"Thank you." I thought as I strolled back towards the citycenter. "Thank you for helping me understand, God. Thank you for being a feeling inside of me. Thus you are always with me."
And as I noticed the peace inside, I smiled and knew that it was true. That it was God.
12 juli 2009
He slept while she left. Sneaking out of the bedroom and tiptoed down the hall. Her own reflection in the kitchenwindow almost made har jump, not wanting anyone to see her. Light feet at the spots were the floorboard disaproved, haltering before entering the darkness in the hall to prepare her eyes. She picked up her sneekers, folded her jacket, almost in slow motion turning the key around, holding her breath. Then the door slid open, without a sound she was out. He was still sleeping, without notice, without knowledge. She laughed in silence, a gost in the night, a free spirit, an untamed heroine. Out and into the endless open, every oportunity awailable to choose. No passed life to forcefully bend into. No traces left but her scent in the wardrobe.
5 juli 2009
A seekers path...
The days when it did not rain I often took long walks along the beach. Collecting seashells and beutiful images of the ocean and the sky making love by the horizion. One day I found a little cover by the upper coastline. A straw and wood constuction someone had tied together and nail to the ground with sticks. Due to the heavy rain it had sacked a little but I found a good and strong piece of wood to raise the roof and manage to staple to it a piece of plastic so that there became a tent underneath the straw. From inside the little hut I had a great wiew of the ocean and still I´d be safe from wet in case I got caught in a shower. This day I sat down to meditate upon the mening of thinking and the balance with that and the state of not-thinking . I had often listened to reflections upon Truth. What is true and how do we respond to it. Since Thought often dominate in the narrow space of our focus, peace seldom get the chance to reign, and when it does, thought emediatly wonder why it´s quiet and what we managed to do to achieve that state. And so the moment is gone. But without that conection with serenity and peace, we have no chance to understand who we are and what is true.
To begin with, I had always believed in some sertain thoughts concerning my pharents, my childhood and the thoughts about the world I´d inherit. But theese thoughts had, when spoken out loud in the prescence of my pharents, met resistance and disregards and it turned out that the thoughts that I had held as a truth belonged only to me and were somewhat a construction of memories and emotiones put together from different events. Therefore, I had for many years held true what now seamed to unfold as a fiction of my mind. These made-up truths had not only haunted me in my thoughts but effected me until now to act and react acording to the wounds and hurts conected to them. I had become part of who I thought I were, becuase of these actions and therefor kept on holding them for real and also kept on trying to heal the emotiones caused by the actual moment, that I thought I remembered. Like a dog trying to catch my own tale, except I had non to begin with...
Feeling rather stupid I came to think about other so-called truths that lived inside of me. Thoughts about my body and how I tried to stay in shape all the time, believing I had to to be atractive or happy perhaps. Thoughts about who I were to become and how I often felt more like a victim of sircumstances rather than the master of my own future. How often I had played the part of vounded child, even counsciously, in situations were I did not know how to handle a conflict. Why did I do that? Why did I react as on instinct and old patterns and not as the grown up I had become?
"Because you are, also, that child."
The voice answerd even before I had pronunced the question through in my mind.
"I know I am that child. But I am also grown up. I should have lurned to act acording to a grown up, should´nt I?"
"These are your judgements..."
My judgements. Off course. I thought I behaved wrong. Judged myself as childish.
"How can I lurn to behave, or react in a more afficient way?"
"Observe."
My mind filled in by itself. As we are children we lurn by observing others. Just because we have lived to be grown up it does´nt mean we stop observe and lurn, though we might not be aware that we do. New questions formed in my head. Am I unaware about how mutch I lurn by observing others and how mutch do I acually behave acording to what I have lurned? Am I being merely a puppet by society? The thought made me feel sad and a little uncomfortable.
"God, can I not decide for myself what I want to lurn and take to heart?"
"I gave you free will, did´nt I?"
"Yes... but...can I choose how to lurn to be?"
"Off course you can. Why do you think people search for comunities to belong to? The Budhist have the Sanga as Christians have the church. Muslims all turn their heads towards Mecka..."
"Aha, okay... Yes I see now... But I have never had only one Guru, religion or comunity, yet I have always longed for this feeling of belonging..."
The silence talked back to me. The image of the neverending sea. I had never made a choise to follow anyone. Always to proud and unresonable to bend my values. Perhaps because no matter which master, religious doctrine, fatherfigure or loved one there always seamed to be blank spots and puzzlepieces missing. There were right about no perfect teacher or teaching. Also, both Budha and Jesus said to the people; this is my way, you must follw yours. Still everyone ended up following and copying their every single step. Eager to end up at the same spot, to become like them. This conflict were somehow always ongoing inside of me to. The conflict inbetween being independant and being openhearted. I had had to many experiences of being let down when trusting in others or alowing myself to feel comfortable and somewhat safe in the company of others. At the same time I longed for nothing else and nothing more then to do just that. Together with the feeling of never being good enough, never really belonging, it created a discordance that I found made it hard for me to live in peace when among others. The mere thought made my stomach turn into a tight knot and my heart ache. A sadness so strong and owerwhelming it made me want to cry out in despair.
"God...?"
"Yes...?"
"I want to become like you."
"You are."
"But how can I know I am, when I do not follow any rules?"
"You feel. Don´t you?"
"Yes... but the feeling is hard to stick to sometimes... I easily get lost... And I feel so alone, God.
I wish there were a religion I could stick to, that I felt were as much mine as everybody elses."
"There is. It´s called the heart."
Sadness overflooded my insides and tears welled up and wet my cheaks. At the same time a fine rain began to fall. Carefull and humble drops, ever so smoothly touching the sand and the water as if they did´nt whant to disturb. My religion, I thought, off course it´s the heart. It has always bin.
A man with a child at hand walked by and along the shoreline, leaving footprints in the sand like a bracelet. The heart, I thought, is the point were God meets with man and were people meet eachother. Like the axle in a wheel, the sun in the solarsystem. Whatever we live, whatever we lurn from the surounding world, it´s in the heart truth lies. The point of peace that have no name, no description, no explanation but were all truth is to find. Beyond understanding, beyond reason is God, but within our expanding hearts. I noticed I smiled. Sitting, as I did, in lotus position underneath the shelter I thought I must look like a budha wanna-be. Perhaps he was just like me, searching for truth beyond life. Perheps he to found in his own heart, an expanding place, a sun of peace and understood that there is nothing to find but the choice of being there at the same time as being alive.
The soft rain stopped and instead an orange sun slowly sank towards the ocean as I got up and strolled back to the bungalow. Following the footprints in the oposite direction, leaving a third pair of prints in the sand, one more string of beads along the bracelet.
To begin with, I had always believed in some sertain thoughts concerning my pharents, my childhood and the thoughts about the world I´d inherit. But theese thoughts had, when spoken out loud in the prescence of my pharents, met resistance and disregards and it turned out that the thoughts that I had held as a truth belonged only to me and were somewhat a construction of memories and emotiones put together from different events. Therefore, I had for many years held true what now seamed to unfold as a fiction of my mind. These made-up truths had not only haunted me in my thoughts but effected me until now to act and react acording to the wounds and hurts conected to them. I had become part of who I thought I were, becuase of these actions and therefor kept on holding them for real and also kept on trying to heal the emotiones caused by the actual moment, that I thought I remembered. Like a dog trying to catch my own tale, except I had non to begin with...
Feeling rather stupid I came to think about other so-called truths that lived inside of me. Thoughts about my body and how I tried to stay in shape all the time, believing I had to to be atractive or happy perhaps. Thoughts about who I were to become and how I often felt more like a victim of sircumstances rather than the master of my own future. How often I had played the part of vounded child, even counsciously, in situations were I did not know how to handle a conflict. Why did I do that? Why did I react as on instinct and old patterns and not as the grown up I had become?
"Because you are, also, that child."
The voice answerd even before I had pronunced the question through in my mind.
"I know I am that child. But I am also grown up. I should have lurned to act acording to a grown up, should´nt I?"
"These are your judgements..."
My judgements. Off course. I thought I behaved wrong. Judged myself as childish.
"How can I lurn to behave, or react in a more afficient way?"
"Observe."
My mind filled in by itself. As we are children we lurn by observing others. Just because we have lived to be grown up it does´nt mean we stop observe and lurn, though we might not be aware that we do. New questions formed in my head. Am I unaware about how mutch I lurn by observing others and how mutch do I acually behave acording to what I have lurned? Am I being merely a puppet by society? The thought made me feel sad and a little uncomfortable.
"God, can I not decide for myself what I want to lurn and take to heart?"
"I gave you free will, did´nt I?"
"Yes... but...can I choose how to lurn to be?"
"Off course you can. Why do you think people search for comunities to belong to? The Budhist have the Sanga as Christians have the church. Muslims all turn their heads towards Mecka..."
"Aha, okay... Yes I see now... But I have never had only one Guru, religion or comunity, yet I have always longed for this feeling of belonging..."
The silence talked back to me. The image of the neverending sea. I had never made a choise to follow anyone. Always to proud and unresonable to bend my values. Perhaps because no matter which master, religious doctrine, fatherfigure or loved one there always seamed to be blank spots and puzzlepieces missing. There were right about no perfect teacher or teaching. Also, both Budha and Jesus said to the people; this is my way, you must follw yours. Still everyone ended up following and copying their every single step. Eager to end up at the same spot, to become like them. This conflict were somehow always ongoing inside of me to. The conflict inbetween being independant and being openhearted. I had had to many experiences of being let down when trusting in others or alowing myself to feel comfortable and somewhat safe in the company of others. At the same time I longed for nothing else and nothing more then to do just that. Together with the feeling of never being good enough, never really belonging, it created a discordance that I found made it hard for me to live in peace when among others. The mere thought made my stomach turn into a tight knot and my heart ache. A sadness so strong and owerwhelming it made me want to cry out in despair.
"God...?"
"Yes...?"
"I want to become like you."
"You are."
"But how can I know I am, when I do not follow any rules?"
"You feel. Don´t you?"
"Yes... but the feeling is hard to stick to sometimes... I easily get lost... And I feel so alone, God.
I wish there were a religion I could stick to, that I felt were as much mine as everybody elses."
"There is. It´s called the heart."
Sadness overflooded my insides and tears welled up and wet my cheaks. At the same time a fine rain began to fall. Carefull and humble drops, ever so smoothly touching the sand and the water as if they did´nt whant to disturb. My religion, I thought, off course it´s the heart. It has always bin.
A man with a child at hand walked by and along the shoreline, leaving footprints in the sand like a bracelet. The heart, I thought, is the point were God meets with man and were people meet eachother. Like the axle in a wheel, the sun in the solarsystem. Whatever we live, whatever we lurn from the surounding world, it´s in the heart truth lies. The point of peace that have no name, no description, no explanation but were all truth is to find. Beyond understanding, beyond reason is God, but within our expanding hearts. I noticed I smiled. Sitting, as I did, in lotus position underneath the shelter I thought I must look like a budha wanna-be. Perhaps he was just like me, searching for truth beyond life. Perheps he to found in his own heart, an expanding place, a sun of peace and understood that there is nothing to find but the choice of being there at the same time as being alive.
The soft rain stopped and instead an orange sun slowly sank towards the ocean as I got up and strolled back to the bungalow. Following the footprints in the oposite direction, leaving a third pair of prints in the sand, one more string of beads along the bracelet.
29 juni 2009
A seekers path... part two.
The rain that fell during the following season was a reflection of life itself. Pouring and popping, tapping and splashing as if it were a creature, a living soul. The way it tipptoed in the morning, romaged and roared later on or the way it leaned over and hit the ground from an almost bizzar angle. I will not lie if I say it fell in a thousand different ways during that period. At least it felt like that because it cept on surprising me in the way it sang me to sleep, talked to me during long midday hours when there were nothing else that could be done, wispered ancient wisdom or laughed at me when I tried to take cover on the way to the warung and back. Even the geckos fled it. Clinging, like they were pasted on the walls in the little bungalow, never mooving when someone were watching but all of a sudden gone or located elsewere.
I had arrived at the airport in the middle of the night but the air was so hot and humid it made my shirt soaked and sticking to my back in seconds. It was not the accual season for rain but with the changes in the climate no one could tell the forcast anymore. I was exhausted from the flight and was glad the cab offered a few minutes of airconditioned heaven as we drowe past fields of rise and Bintang Supermarkets, the new and the old in mixed bled and beautiful orchards in every available area in between, all along the way to The Three Brothers. The night was clear, no rain, but a starlit sky above. The magic of the land swept me of my feet. The energy buzzing in the air like a fine glitter. Imediatley at arrival I headed for the pool, dived into the soothing water and let the cool infiltrate my mind as well as my body. Feeling like a dolphin I swam and dived, played around and floated on my back watching the stars above. As I became still a thought came into my head. A question put into univerce: can a man change his stars?
My stars, I knew what they said about my persona and good future, but do they speak of a destiny about to unfold, no matter how I live my life or do they just point out where my soul is heading? Are my stars the same this time around or are they more of a follow-up to past lives? I remembered the old man back in Katmandu and how I never really had got an answer from him about weather he believed in reincarnation or not. Answers reveal themselves in time. I knew this, had lived to see it happen to and all had bin well if I had bin able to rely on thet and to relax but on the controversy I felt so mutch in a hurry all the time. As if I had a mission to complete, a quest to solve or at least something very important to understand and get into doing. Always feeling as I was wasting time, doing things at random lacking the knowledge needed to change and get ahead. This thoughts spinning in my head at all times, making me comfused and frustrated. At times I had believed I had got a clue but that clue only led to new questions, and so the quest continued.
Almost without noticing, I asked out loud; "God, how long will it take until I understand?"
And somewere beyond all counsciusness a voice, much like my own, answerd; "How long do you want it to take?"
Silence followed.
"I want to understand right now! I have wanted to understand all my life!"
The voice answering with the tone of a nagging child; "I want, I want, I want!"
I remembered what a friend had explained about questions, that if you don´t get an answer, perhaps you ask the wrong question. So I tried in another way to formulate a question.
"I... I...hm... i don´t know what to ask for....really.... I don´t know what it is Im looking for"
"Then go find it."
"Find what?"
"What it is you are looking for."
"Is it that easy?"
"Yes. It really is that easy. Finding is the doing in a nother sence. Only you decide weather you want to Do or to Find."
I suddenly recaled what a teacher had said about life points of wiew, that for some people life is a fight, for some a lesson and yet for others a game. All due to our perseption. I tried to put out another question.
"Is there a sertain level of consiousness that I need to reach in this life?"
"To...?"
"Well.... I don´t know. I thought you knew the reason?"
I felt stupid, but It seamed like whom ever I was talking to laughed out loud.
"Is´nt there a reason?"
"There is a lot of reasons; all made up by you. I only whant you to be happy. To live in peace with whatever and whoever you are. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"
"Well.... I dont´t know. Perhaps it´s to easy!"
"Life is easy! You are the once making it hard!"
"This is silly! I feel like Neal Donald Walsh, having a conversation with God."
"Do you think he is the only one being able to have such a conversation?"
"But I feel like having a conversation with God to, right now."
"Well, you are. The only difference is that you don´t write at the same time."
I have felt that urge to write so many times, I thought, yet I havn´t. I have had that urge to create in other ways to, why I studied both music and went to artschool. But the restlessness and impatience, the have-to´s and restrictiones cept me from falling into the flow and so I gave up that to and started to work instead. Did I run away due to fear of meeting God?
"Im here."
"God, I want to have this conversation...still I run away.... I guess Im a little afraid of you... Afraid of what it might lead to if I let go of all restrictions and just go with the flow... I know there is no reason to be afraid, still it´s hard not to... Will you wait for me?"
"I will wait all the time you need. There is no other option. I am always here, always prescent, always about to unfold before you if you dare let it happen. If you dare let Me happen."
"But I don´t want to waiste any more time!"
"Then don´t."
"But what shall I do? What can I do?"
"You can meet me in whatever form you like. If you want to paint, then paint with me. If you want to write, then write trough me..."
"But does it matter?"
"It only matters to you what you do."
Like I needed a pause, I returned mentaly to were I was, still flat back in the water, and I noticed how tired I was. Getting up and off to my little bungalow I thought about the matter I had chosen. How I had tried all kinds of artistic expressions but only to the extent where it started to pay off. Then something else had always turned my focus around and I had stopped with whatever I had bin doing. I wanted to believe in magic, the dreams and fantasies of mine. Wanted to make them come true but never had the guts to put my back into it. Ready for bed I snapped a book out of my satchel and started to read from where I had left of and this sentence glared at me from the page: "Youve got to give magic a hand sometimes, lad. Give it summat to use... the right conditions."
I laughed out loud at this, thinking God has a million faces and voices. Just look around, be a little aware and you´ll get the answear you seak. I closed my eyes and fell asleap right away, with the book on my chest and a little smile on my face, and as I did I new God was watching and smiling to.
I had arrived at the airport in the middle of the night but the air was so hot and humid it made my shirt soaked and sticking to my back in seconds. It was not the accual season for rain but with the changes in the climate no one could tell the forcast anymore. I was exhausted from the flight and was glad the cab offered a few minutes of airconditioned heaven as we drowe past fields of rise and Bintang Supermarkets, the new and the old in mixed bled and beautiful orchards in every available area in between, all along the way to The Three Brothers. The night was clear, no rain, but a starlit sky above. The magic of the land swept me of my feet. The energy buzzing in the air like a fine glitter. Imediatley at arrival I headed for the pool, dived into the soothing water and let the cool infiltrate my mind as well as my body. Feeling like a dolphin I swam and dived, played around and floated on my back watching the stars above. As I became still a thought came into my head. A question put into univerce: can a man change his stars?
My stars, I knew what they said about my persona and good future, but do they speak of a destiny about to unfold, no matter how I live my life or do they just point out where my soul is heading? Are my stars the same this time around or are they more of a follow-up to past lives? I remembered the old man back in Katmandu and how I never really had got an answer from him about weather he believed in reincarnation or not. Answers reveal themselves in time. I knew this, had lived to see it happen to and all had bin well if I had bin able to rely on thet and to relax but on the controversy I felt so mutch in a hurry all the time. As if I had a mission to complete, a quest to solve or at least something very important to understand and get into doing. Always feeling as I was wasting time, doing things at random lacking the knowledge needed to change and get ahead. This thoughts spinning in my head at all times, making me comfused and frustrated. At times I had believed I had got a clue but that clue only led to new questions, and so the quest continued.
Almost without noticing, I asked out loud; "God, how long will it take until I understand?"
And somewere beyond all counsciusness a voice, much like my own, answerd; "How long do you want it to take?"
Silence followed.
"I want to understand right now! I have wanted to understand all my life!"
The voice answering with the tone of a nagging child; "I want, I want, I want!"
I remembered what a friend had explained about questions, that if you don´t get an answer, perhaps you ask the wrong question. So I tried in another way to formulate a question.
"I... I...hm... i don´t know what to ask for....really.... I don´t know what it is Im looking for"
"Then go find it."
"Find what?"
"What it is you are looking for."
"Is it that easy?"
"Yes. It really is that easy. Finding is the doing in a nother sence. Only you decide weather you want to Do or to Find."
I suddenly recaled what a teacher had said about life points of wiew, that for some people life is a fight, for some a lesson and yet for others a game. All due to our perseption. I tried to put out another question.
"Is there a sertain level of consiousness that I need to reach in this life?"
"To...?"
"Well.... I don´t know. I thought you knew the reason?"
I felt stupid, but It seamed like whom ever I was talking to laughed out loud.
"Is´nt there a reason?"
"There is a lot of reasons; all made up by you. I only whant you to be happy. To live in peace with whatever and whoever you are. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"
"Well.... I dont´t know. Perhaps it´s to easy!"
"Life is easy! You are the once making it hard!"
"This is silly! I feel like Neal Donald Walsh, having a conversation with God."
"Do you think he is the only one being able to have such a conversation?"
"But I feel like having a conversation with God to, right now."
"Well, you are. The only difference is that you don´t write at the same time."
I have felt that urge to write so many times, I thought, yet I havn´t. I have had that urge to create in other ways to, why I studied both music and went to artschool. But the restlessness and impatience, the have-to´s and restrictiones cept me from falling into the flow and so I gave up that to and started to work instead. Did I run away due to fear of meeting God?
"Im here."
"God, I want to have this conversation...still I run away.... I guess Im a little afraid of you... Afraid of what it might lead to if I let go of all restrictions and just go with the flow... I know there is no reason to be afraid, still it´s hard not to... Will you wait for me?"
"I will wait all the time you need. There is no other option. I am always here, always prescent, always about to unfold before you if you dare let it happen. If you dare let Me happen."
"But I don´t want to waiste any more time!"
"Then don´t."
"But what shall I do? What can I do?"
"You can meet me in whatever form you like. If you want to paint, then paint with me. If you want to write, then write trough me..."
"But does it matter?"
"It only matters to you what you do."
Like I needed a pause, I returned mentaly to were I was, still flat back in the water, and I noticed how tired I was. Getting up and off to my little bungalow I thought about the matter I had chosen. How I had tried all kinds of artistic expressions but only to the extent where it started to pay off. Then something else had always turned my focus around and I had stopped with whatever I had bin doing. I wanted to believe in magic, the dreams and fantasies of mine. Wanted to make them come true but never had the guts to put my back into it. Ready for bed I snapped a book out of my satchel and started to read from where I had left of and this sentence glared at me from the page: "Youve got to give magic a hand sometimes, lad. Give it summat to use... the right conditions."
I laughed out loud at this, thinking God has a million faces and voices. Just look around, be a little aware and you´ll get the answear you seak. I closed my eyes and fell asleap right away, with the book on my chest and a little smile on my face, and as I did I new God was watching and smiling to.
27 juni 2009
Nu, såhär i efterhand, tänker jag på vad du sa och hur du var.
Eller kanske snarare vad du inte sa och inte gjorde...
Du var väldigt mycket frånvarande som jag minns det, var du inte det?
Där, men inte med oss. Som om du inte hörde hemma.
Tankarna krockar.
Du var ju hemma där. Du hade till och med skapat det själv.
Hur det var.
Hur kom det sig att du inte valde att vara med sen?
Jag lekte ofta med Barbiedockor när jag var liten tjej.
Byggde upp interiörer av böcker och saker som skulle föreställa nått annat,
garderober med skor på rader och bäddad Barbiesäng, för en sån hade jag. En riktig.
Sen, när allt var klart, då var leken redan slut. Då ville jag göra något annat.
Jag byggde upp världar men deltog inte i livet i dem. Inte jag heller.
Du levde ditt liv i periferin och lät mig utforska mitt på egen hand.
Skapade dina världar.
Så blev också mina världar min verklighet, min fantasi, min trygghet.
Och jag blev inte alls den du ville. Jag blev som du.
Eller kanske snarare vad du inte sa och inte gjorde...
Du var väldigt mycket frånvarande som jag minns det, var du inte det?
Där, men inte med oss. Som om du inte hörde hemma.
Tankarna krockar.
Du var ju hemma där. Du hade till och med skapat det själv.
Hur det var.
Hur kom det sig att du inte valde att vara med sen?
Jag lekte ofta med Barbiedockor när jag var liten tjej.
Byggde upp interiörer av böcker och saker som skulle föreställa nått annat,
garderober med skor på rader och bäddad Barbiesäng, för en sån hade jag. En riktig.
Sen, när allt var klart, då var leken redan slut. Då ville jag göra något annat.
Jag byggde upp världar men deltog inte i livet i dem. Inte jag heller.
Du levde ditt liv i periferin och lät mig utforska mitt på egen hand.
Skapade dina världar.
Så blev också mina världar min verklighet, min fantasi, min trygghet.
Och jag blev inte alls den du ville. Jag blev som du.
26 juni 2009
...a seekers path...
... Some time passed. I started to become a little restless, both worying and thinking about what had caused this event. Had something happened or did he just forget about me? Perhaps he had other, better things to do? Did he believe that me, on my hand was not to come back due to the rain and therefor passed to? I felt stupid. Sitting alone, underneath a tree that did not offer very much of a shelter from the rain instead of crossing the street to the nearest shop or restaurant. I thought I saw people passing by shot glimpses of mirth at me. Like I were some outcast child or a dog left outside a dinners while the owners have thir meal. I felt like that child, or dog to. Waiting in the rain for a man that I so dearly wanted to meet. So eager to talk with him, and to listen. Thirsty for knowledge and teachings to reflect upon. My heart started to ache and my stomach rumble. What if I were not to see him, ever agian? Perhaps he was just one of those one-time angels that sometimes bless us with their prescence, leaving imprints that lasts for a lifetime. The thought owerflooded me with sadness. I wanted him to be there almost as much as I longed for my father to be there for me when I was a child. Eaven now, grown up as I had become, I still longed for his prescence, his attention and console. My thoughts kept going, memories on replay. Me, left alone in this world to fight a battle I had not choosen. A lifetime struggle to fit in, to balance between beeing not to god and not to bad. Never more nor less than what seamed to be the norm. All the confusion, discord emotions and strangeling feeling of never being able to please the ones around me, no matter what I did or how. Emotions rushing trough my body, hurt and loss, dissapointment and anger. Some with memories atached, some new and out of the blue conected to this moment. It escalated and intensified, streams of icecold showers and boiling heat rumaging inside, like a vulcano and a lavin at the same time. It cept on for I dont know how long, but what felt like an eternity. But then it all stopped. All but silence and only this one sentence hanging in the air right before me saying; NO, THIS WAS MY CHOICE.
Like a lightning had strucked right down and into my head it all became clear to me. Everything I had ever lived, everything I ever did and were about to do, everything was my choice. Counscious or uncounscious. The result, my perseption colored by my mind and judged by the same, but neverthenless, the actual event was a cause of me making a choice. The insight was so enormous it totaly numbstrucked me and I don´t know for how long I remained in this wake. Hours passed. The rain stopped. Kids cried. Cars pushed the water aside as they passed by. The doves came back, the sun even peered through cracks in the clouds. Scents of mud and fumes, curry and ginger started to spread and intensify as the moist evaporated. A cow, white underneath the dirt and weat, passed in the typical lazy pace of thiers. I remained, however. Unable to move, and even if I had no reason. Images from my passed that once was draped with painful emotional covers now seamed obvious and resonable. Because I had not understod the meaning while it happened I had stored the memory with the first impact wrapped aroud it. Over and over I had let the events cause me, like I was a wictim of some kind, and tried to hide, to take cover or fight them as my enemies. Instead of embrasing the outcome of my choice I had fled, and I saw how this pattern had repeated itself throughout my life.
Slowly, as I returned to consciousness, to the enviroment, the city gained structure and focus again. Everything seamed to be back to normal outside and around, but inside of me everything was different. I was awake in a way I could never had emadgen being before. Saw everything in a new light. Carried a new feeling of freedom and a conviction that everything that had happen and everything that was about to, would be for a reason, and that reason were my choise to make and react upon. Univerce wants us to become perfect and so I did not have to be afraid. The choice of lurning trough fear or love lies only in our perseption.
Slowly I also noticed that I was soaking wet and shivering of cold. Remembering the hot chai I had brought for the Teacher, I opened my satchel and poured myself a cup instead and as I did so I realized that I was to a teacher. All knowledge is from God anyway, we only choose from whom and how to gain it. Smiling to myself I raised the cup and saluted myself before I let the hot and sweet chai fill up my sences.
Like a lightning had strucked right down and into my head it all became clear to me. Everything I had ever lived, everything I ever did and were about to do, everything was my choice. Counscious or uncounscious. The result, my perseption colored by my mind and judged by the same, but neverthenless, the actual event was a cause of me making a choice. The insight was so enormous it totaly numbstrucked me and I don´t know for how long I remained in this wake. Hours passed. The rain stopped. Kids cried. Cars pushed the water aside as they passed by. The doves came back, the sun even peered through cracks in the clouds. Scents of mud and fumes, curry and ginger started to spread and intensify as the moist evaporated. A cow, white underneath the dirt and weat, passed in the typical lazy pace of thiers. I remained, however. Unable to move, and even if I had no reason. Images from my passed that once was draped with painful emotional covers now seamed obvious and resonable. Because I had not understod the meaning while it happened I had stored the memory with the first impact wrapped aroud it. Over and over I had let the events cause me, like I was a wictim of some kind, and tried to hide, to take cover or fight them as my enemies. Instead of embrasing the outcome of my choice I had fled, and I saw how this pattern had repeated itself throughout my life.
Slowly, as I returned to consciousness, to the enviroment, the city gained structure and focus again. Everything seamed to be back to normal outside and around, but inside of me everything was different. I was awake in a way I could never had emadgen being before. Saw everything in a new light. Carried a new feeling of freedom and a conviction that everything that had happen and everything that was about to, would be for a reason, and that reason were my choise to make and react upon. Univerce wants us to become perfect and so I did not have to be afraid. The choice of lurning trough fear or love lies only in our perseption.
Slowly I also noticed that I was soaking wet and shivering of cold. Remembering the hot chai I had brought for the Teacher, I opened my satchel and poured myself a cup instead and as I did so I realized that I was to a teacher. All knowledge is from God anyway, we only choose from whom and how to gain it. Smiling to myself I raised the cup and saluted myself before I let the hot and sweet chai fill up my sences.
23 juni 2009
... A seekers path...
The following day felt like a mess even before I got out of bed. The night had brought heavy rain and to most inhabitants it was an act of blessing from God, making sure the wells filled up and the fields ripened and gave a good harvest. That the streets turned into mud and flods of water did not concern them at all, honking and yelling from overloaded cars and mopeds as they tried to drive through. My head aced. I had to get up and attend at the morningpuja and there were still the meeting with the man from yesterday to reflect upon. Would he be there at noon today if it still rained? The thought lingered in the back of my head as I made it to the bathroom and sat down on my heals, feet on each side of the hole that made the toilet. I had got used to the conditions by now, but it took several turns with diarea before I did so. There is a point, wich you have to reach, if you are to stay here. The point from beyond you do not care about or question the poor being everywere and at you sleeve at all hours, that the water is probably even more dirty than you, that you do not have a bowlremovement that looks anything like you are used to and will not have until you leave and that women are nicely treated but never regarded as an authority. Once you get to that point youre no longer tucked by the sleeve, you use the right hand and have lurned how to swear in Hindi.
I stopped by the Pilgrims bookshop, for no perticular reason but just because I had the oportunity to drown into the oceans of unread stories and magic adventures stored from floor to sieling in the labyrith alike shop. The first time I almost got lost, entering the next room and the next without paying atention to where I first started and how to get back out on the street again. The back of the shop turnes into a peaceful oas with a restaurant, numbers of comfortable chairs and separate and sometimes hidden corners and tables. It had turned dark before I got out that time. Now I knew the place a little bit better and headed straight to the section with books about esoterica and religion apart from Budhism, that filled a room of its own. I wanted to read about the history of earth, history of man and the collective consiousness that keaps on spreading and reaching new generations of people all the time. Because most people tend to see the problems of the outer world as separate from the inside they also keap on blaming the world. The Dalai Lama say that all conflicts starts within and that there is no other way of making a change but to start with our own inner conflicts. What I was searching for was some kind of mirror to reflect my own. Thinking about how to know what to change and how to accually work the field was a mantal task I had carried around for many years and it seamed like the more I got to see, the more I saw that there was so much more to see. However sane, the quest cept me going, searching for yet another question to define what I did not know.
Eager to keep the time and to meet the Teacher, I left without buying anything but stopped at New Orleans to pick up some Chai. After all the Teacher had asked me to do so, eaven though the weather was nothing like the day before. Having to wait until all the men have had to order, I finaly got my termos filled up, stepped back out and into the anklehigh muddy water and began to vade my way through the streets. Exhited and curious about the encounter I kept on thinking about what I had to lurn today, the possible choices of subject and what I wanted to aks him. Finally I rounded the corner and entered the crossing street where we were about to meet, but the sight was empty. Perhaps I was early? Having a seat were he sat the day before I decided to wait.
......
The following day felt like a mess even before I got out of bed. The night had brought heavy rain and to most inhabitants it was an act of blessing from God, making sure the wells filled up and the fields ripened and gave a good harvest. That the streets turned into mud and flods of water did not concern them at all, honking and yelling from overloaded cars and mopeds as they tried to drive through. My head aced. I had to get up and attend at the morningpuja and there were still the meeting with the man from yesterday to reflect upon. Would he be there at noon today if it still rained? The thought lingered in the back of my head as I made it to the bathroom and sat down on my heals, feet on each side of the hole that made the toilet. I had got used to the conditions by now, but it took several turns with diarea before I did so. There is a point, wich you have to reach, if you are to stay here. The point from beyond you do not care about or question the poor being everywere and at you sleeve at all hours, that the water is probably even more dirty than you, that you do not have a bowlremovement that looks anything like you are used to and will not have until you leave and that women are nicely treated but never regarded as an authority. Once you get to that point youre no longer tucked by the sleeve, you use the right hand and have lurned how to swear in Hindi.
I stopped by the Pilgrims bookshop, for no perticular reason but just because I had the oportunity to drown into the oceans of unread stories and magic adventures stored from floor to sieling in the labyrith alike shop. The first time I almost got lost, entering the next room and the next without paying atention to where I first started and how to get back out on the street again. The back of the shop turnes into a peaceful oas with a restaurant, numbers of comfortable chairs and separate and sometimes hidden corners and tables. It had turned dark before I got out that time. Now I knew the place a little bit better and headed straight to the section with books about esoterica and religion apart from Budhism, that filled a room of its own. I wanted to read about the history of earth, history of man and the collective consiousness that keaps on spreading and reaching new generations of people all the time. Because most people tend to see the problems of the outer world as separate from the inside they also keap on blaming the world. The Dalai Lama say that all conflicts starts within and that there is no other way of making a change but to start with our own inner conflicts. What I was searching for was some kind of mirror to reflect my own. Thinking about how to know what to change and how to accually work the field was a mantal task I had carried around for many years and it seamed like the more I got to see, the more I saw that there was so much more to see. However sane, the quest cept me going, searching for yet another question to define what I did not know.
Eager to keep the time and to meet the Teacher, I left without buying anything but stopped at New Orleans to pick up some Chai. After all the Teacher had asked me to do so, eaven though the weather was nothing like the day before. Having to wait until all the men have had to order, I finaly got my termos filled up, stepped back out and into the anklehigh muddy water and began to vade my way through the streets. Exhited and curious about the encounter I kept on thinking about what I had to lurn today, the possible choices of subject and what I wanted to aks him. Finally I rounded the corner and entered the crossing street where we were about to meet, but the sight was empty. Perhaps I was early? Having a seat were he sat the day before I decided to wait.
......
22 juni 2009
...a seekers path....
"What about reincarnation? Do you believe in reincarnation?"
Underneath the shadowpatterns of branches and leaves the image of his face became like an mosaique. A watercollorpainting by someone great but sience long known or remembered. And so, for a moment, it transformed into a womans. Softer in the edges, more feminine and almost pretty. I was stunned. This had to be due to the circumstanses I thought, the magic of a remote city in a most remote land. A magic built up by tales and stories passed on from dacade to decade, generation to the next about the land and the caves where the masters and dieties took their refuge, the mastering of sidhis, the spirit of the land. Where people tigh strings of brightcollored flags everywhere and there is a secret route to Shambala hidden for all but the pure in heart.
The woman peered at me with a little laughter playing round the eyes and the intensity was so strong it felt like She could see right through me. The voice still belonged to the old man though.
"From the begining there was a certain amount of energy gathered. With evolution it turned into what we call the earth and all that includes. As far as we know, no energy can disapear, end to exsist or turn into anti-materia. Therefor I believe the amount is still the same. What happens when a body die and turns into dust is obvious, but what becomes of the energy is up to God to let us understand when that time comes." Closing his eyes again, face back to normal, the moments gone. A springflood of questiones rushed into my mind turning my head into a beehive, unable to sort one out. I knew that universe is constantly moving, evolving and transforming. Everything but God, and so the experience of God in us. Wherever I came in the world people explained to me the same truth, that the contact with that deep source is the only thing that remains the same, only expanding as we dive deeper into it. There may be milliones of teachings and tecniques, but the point of perfection searched are the same.
"You think to much, didi!" He said with a little chuckel and peered at me from where he sat. "Thats the reason why so many people get lost in this world, they think to much! Collecting knowledge and reasons and years and years of feelings inside until they are so full of everything else but what they are really looking for. I tell you, Didi, to find whatever answers you have, its not a matter of filling up with something but to let go of what is keaping up the space!"
With this I could tell he was finished and he made a move to rise up. The sun had shifted from noon to early evening meanwhile we talked and the street had slowly filled up from one corner to the other with rikshas and shopkeepers crying for atention, sad-eyed children begging for rupies, people walking, talking, driving mopeds and ox-carts, sellers, dealers and beautiful women in bright-collored saris dancing by with the grace of queens. Afraid of never seeing him again, I wanted to ask for another meeting, a moment, a chance to learn more. But before I had the chance to speak he did.
"Go now and when you come back tomorrow; bring chai and water. The sun is hot, even for an old man."
Underneath the shadowpatterns of branches and leaves the image of his face became like an mosaique. A watercollorpainting by someone great but sience long known or remembered. And so, for a moment, it transformed into a womans. Softer in the edges, more feminine and almost pretty. I was stunned. This had to be due to the circumstanses I thought, the magic of a remote city in a most remote land. A magic built up by tales and stories passed on from dacade to decade, generation to the next about the land and the caves where the masters and dieties took their refuge, the mastering of sidhis, the spirit of the land. Where people tigh strings of brightcollored flags everywhere and there is a secret route to Shambala hidden for all but the pure in heart.
The woman peered at me with a little laughter playing round the eyes and the intensity was so strong it felt like She could see right through me. The voice still belonged to the old man though.
"From the begining there was a certain amount of energy gathered. With evolution it turned into what we call the earth and all that includes. As far as we know, no energy can disapear, end to exsist or turn into anti-materia. Therefor I believe the amount is still the same. What happens when a body die and turns into dust is obvious, but what becomes of the energy is up to God to let us understand when that time comes." Closing his eyes again, face back to normal, the moments gone. A springflood of questiones rushed into my mind turning my head into a beehive, unable to sort one out. I knew that universe is constantly moving, evolving and transforming. Everything but God, and so the experience of God in us. Wherever I came in the world people explained to me the same truth, that the contact with that deep source is the only thing that remains the same, only expanding as we dive deeper into it. There may be milliones of teachings and tecniques, but the point of perfection searched are the same.
"You think to much, didi!" He said with a little chuckel and peered at me from where he sat. "Thats the reason why so many people get lost in this world, they think to much! Collecting knowledge and reasons and years and years of feelings inside until they are so full of everything else but what they are really looking for. I tell you, Didi, to find whatever answers you have, its not a matter of filling up with something but to let go of what is keaping up the space!"
With this I could tell he was finished and he made a move to rise up. The sun had shifted from noon to early evening meanwhile we talked and the street had slowly filled up from one corner to the other with rikshas and shopkeepers crying for atention, sad-eyed children begging for rupies, people walking, talking, driving mopeds and ox-carts, sellers, dealers and beautiful women in bright-collored saris dancing by with the grace of queens. Afraid of never seeing him again, I wanted to ask for another meeting, a moment, a chance to learn more. But before I had the chance to speak he did.
"Go now and when you come back tomorrow; bring chai and water. The sun is hot, even for an old man."
20 juni 2009
A seekers path...
I once met a man in Katmandu. In the heart of the old city where the sand by thousands and thousands of feet slowly has turned into solid streets. I saw him by the corner where the black marketeers hides from the sun at noon and the sweet smell of chai lingers. Underneath the Jasmine some doves had taken their refuge and the man sat down to rest both his elderly limbs and eyes by their side. I almost missed him, draped in an olivegreen scarf on top of a jaliskirt, as I stepped out from the crossing alleyroad, sun in my eyes and the heavy smell of garlic and foul meat like a invisible wall before me. The street being bussy even at this hour due to the stream of tourists and everyday people living the modern way.
The man leaned against the wall, hands folded on top of his spiny cane like a sword stucked in the ground before him. A knight of his generation, soon to be lost in time. The insight came to me in a split second; That man is a Teacher! and with that a sudden urge to fall down on my knees infront of him, asking for his blessing, begging for permition to wash his tired feet. I did not, of course, but catched by the sudden urge I came up to him and took a seat at a distance that alowed me to both show respect and interest. From my satchel I brought some of the leftover naan from my lunchpac and started to ground it between my fingers to feed the doves. Saying nothing I knew he noticed me.
Some time passed. Still he did not say a word but the bread and the doves gave me a reason to stay. I noticed he was watching though. Some more time passed by. Then, finaly he spoke.
" If the doves had not bin here for you to share your bread with, what reason would you have to stay?"
A million thoughts and answers ran through my head, rights and wrongs, judgements and discourages. What question was that anyway? Was this a ridle, a quest? Somewere at a distant a man cried for a Riksha. The wind touched my arms and reminded me that I was only wearing a shortsleaved shirt. My feet tired of being straped into Teva sandals.
Then Time stopped.
"The doves are not the reason why I´m here" I said, " they are only reminding me of what a blessing it is to have bread to share. The reason why I´m here is because I have long seeked answers to my questions and what seams like faith or God if you like, has brought me to this place at this perticular moment."
"So you are a believer?" he replied, a little curiosity in his voice now.
"We are all believers, in what is what differ us. But yes, you might say I am a beliver."
He hesitated and I took the chance to take the lead in the conversation by turning towards him.
" Are you?"
"It is true. We are all believers... For long I believed in my believe to. Lived as a monk in the temple close to Bodhana, you see. Everyday seaking the truth, everyday meeting the eyes of Buddha, turning the weels for making our prayers heard and spread..." He fell silent and closed his eyes, as if he could see the memories, like a movie, repeating themselves once again.
"And then?" I asked, "what happened?"
With his eyes closed still he took a deep breath, the way elderly wise men do and as to wait for the right wind hesitated before he let the words out.
"Nothing happened, that´s what happend."
"What do you mean?"
"It means; Nothing happened. There were no sudden enlightment, no changing in the outer world, at least not to the better, no siddhis mastered... Instead, Nothing happened."
"...please... what is the meaning of this, Nothing?"
Now he opened his eyes and also made a little shift in his position to face me a little bit better. And as he did, I saw him in a new light. I could tell he was happy by the lines of his face. A constelation of stars in each eye and the eternity carved into his light smile. The old man was gone. Instead I saw the boy he once was.The man, the monk, the seeker and I understod when I saw him what I could not understand. The abscence of time where he was.
The man leaned against the wall, hands folded on top of his spiny cane like a sword stucked in the ground before him. A knight of his generation, soon to be lost in time. The insight came to me in a split second; That man is a Teacher! and with that a sudden urge to fall down on my knees infront of him, asking for his blessing, begging for permition to wash his tired feet. I did not, of course, but catched by the sudden urge I came up to him and took a seat at a distance that alowed me to both show respect and interest. From my satchel I brought some of the leftover naan from my lunchpac and started to ground it between my fingers to feed the doves. Saying nothing I knew he noticed me.
Some time passed. Still he did not say a word but the bread and the doves gave me a reason to stay. I noticed he was watching though. Some more time passed by. Then, finaly he spoke.
" If the doves had not bin here for you to share your bread with, what reason would you have to stay?"
A million thoughts and answers ran through my head, rights and wrongs, judgements and discourages. What question was that anyway? Was this a ridle, a quest? Somewere at a distant a man cried for a Riksha. The wind touched my arms and reminded me that I was only wearing a shortsleaved shirt. My feet tired of being straped into Teva sandals.
Then Time stopped.
"The doves are not the reason why I´m here" I said, " they are only reminding me of what a blessing it is to have bread to share. The reason why I´m here is because I have long seeked answers to my questions and what seams like faith or God if you like, has brought me to this place at this perticular moment."
"So you are a believer?" he replied, a little curiosity in his voice now.
"We are all believers, in what is what differ us. But yes, you might say I am a beliver."
He hesitated and I took the chance to take the lead in the conversation by turning towards him.
" Are you?"
"It is true. We are all believers... For long I believed in my believe to. Lived as a monk in the temple close to Bodhana, you see. Everyday seaking the truth, everyday meeting the eyes of Buddha, turning the weels for making our prayers heard and spread..." He fell silent and closed his eyes, as if he could see the memories, like a movie, repeating themselves once again.
"And then?" I asked, "what happened?"
With his eyes closed still he took a deep breath, the way elderly wise men do and as to wait for the right wind hesitated before he let the words out.
"Nothing happened, that´s what happend."
"What do you mean?"
"It means; Nothing happened. There were no sudden enlightment, no changing in the outer world, at least not to the better, no siddhis mastered... Instead, Nothing happened."
"...please... what is the meaning of this, Nothing?"
Now he opened his eyes and also made a little shift in his position to face me a little bit better. And as he did, I saw him in a new light. I could tell he was happy by the lines of his face. A constelation of stars in each eye and the eternity carved into his light smile. The old man was gone. Instead I saw the boy he once was.The man, the monk, the seeker and I understod when I saw him what I could not understand. The abscence of time where he was.
16 juni 2009
To all of you beautiful people who spended the last week in Taizé; Thank you! I am truly Blessed to have met you all!
Thank you all for sharing your stories, your tears, your fears, your happiness, your songs, your truths, your hearts, your lives....
To you with whom I grow in peace, love and understanding; theres no words... I am but so blessed to be in your prescense!
This life is a beautiful gift because of you.
Beyond words,
I am,
Blessed!
Thank you all for sharing your stories, your tears, your fears, your happiness, your songs, your truths, your hearts, your lives....
To you with whom I grow in peace, love and understanding; theres no words... I am but so blessed to be in your prescense!
This life is a beautiful gift because of you.
Beyond words,
I am,
Blessed!
4 juni 2009
Today I find it hard, to stay with what is
because of my heart
that seaks pleasure first
Today Im restless, weary and tired
stumbling across the inner field
of mine
Obvious; if I listen
Be still, take time
rest in silence, seak whats behind
and stay with it untill peace incline
I know, still I don´t
So tired, but sleepless
to restless to rest
Thinking makes no sence
not present in the present
What to do? Nothing to do!
I stay with my peacefull kaos
Rivers my flow from the deapth of the source
but I rest at the bank with my labour
because of my heart
that seaks pleasure first
Today Im restless, weary and tired
stumbling across the inner field
of mine
Obvious; if I listen
Be still, take time
rest in silence, seak whats behind
and stay with it untill peace incline
I know, still I don´t
So tired, but sleepless
to restless to rest
Thinking makes no sence
not present in the present
What to do? Nothing to do!
I stay with my peacefull kaos
Rivers my flow from the deapth of the source
but I rest at the bank with my labour
2 juni 2009
Mitt liv, min kropp
min kärlek, mina ord
min längtan, mina villkor
mina tankar, mitt hopp
Din passion, din ödmjukhet
din frustration, din vilja
dina drömmar, din begränsning
din lust, dina lekar
Nej
Liv, kropp, kärlek, ord, längtan, villkor, tankar, hopp
passion, ödmjukhet, frustration, vilja, drömmar, begränsning, lust, lek
Inget mitt. Inga mina.
Inget ditt. Inga dina.
Jag
Du
Sen allt som rymms där i och emellan.
Men utan orden som förklarar
orden som benämner
orden som förminskar -
eller förstorar
utan dem Är bara det som Är
Utan rädslan finns ingen laddning
Laddat är det vi flyr och befäktar
möter som räddande änglar hos andra
eller väljer att blunda för
Speglar är vi för varandra
Speglar att spegla våra sanningar i
speglar att låta bekräfta det sanna
och allt det som är sant där uti.
min kärlek, mina ord
min längtan, mina villkor
mina tankar, mitt hopp
Din passion, din ödmjukhet
din frustration, din vilja
dina drömmar, din begränsning
din lust, dina lekar
Nej
Liv, kropp, kärlek, ord, längtan, villkor, tankar, hopp
passion, ödmjukhet, frustration, vilja, drömmar, begränsning, lust, lek
Inget mitt. Inga mina.
Inget ditt. Inga dina.
Jag
Du
Sen allt som rymms där i och emellan.
Men utan orden som förklarar
orden som benämner
orden som förminskar -
eller förstorar
utan dem Är bara det som Är
Utan rädslan finns ingen laddning
Laddat är det vi flyr och befäktar
möter som räddande änglar hos andra
eller väljer att blunda för
Speglar är vi för varandra
Speglar att spegla våra sanningar i
speglar att låta bekräfta det sanna
och allt det som är sant där uti.
1 juni 2009
Eyes wide open,
clouds passing by
reflectioning the greatness
of the sky
Green green grass below
resting limbs of mine
greatful for the softness
underneath my spine
So shimmering the buds of leaves
at the tips of every branch
so tender every raindrop
transparant
In blissfull moments
being
aware of the endlessness
no end and no begining
The sky above,
the clouds inside
the rain the sun
the open wide
within, beyond,
both far and near
all is that was
will come is here
clouds passing by
reflectioning the greatness
of the sky
Green green grass below
resting limbs of mine
greatful for the softness
underneath my spine
So shimmering the buds of leaves
at the tips of every branch
so tender every raindrop
transparant
In blissfull moments
being
aware of the endlessness
no end and no begining
The sky above,
the clouds inside
the rain the sun
the open wide
within, beyond,
both far and near
all is that was
will come is here
30 maj 2009
Kom, jag vill så gärna vara nära dig.
I hjärtat, i tiden där vid din sida.
Kom, snälla, jag önskar dig allt gott!
Vila i min omfamning, trygg.
Du och jag, vi har levt tillsammans alltid
ända sedan jag föddes har du funnits där
men aldrig nära, aldrig du och jag
aldrig jag i din absoluta närhet
Nu är du en mor liksom vår
Jag är fortfarande här
bredvid dig, bakom dig
vart du än går
fastän att jag aldrig funnits i ditt hjärta
fasten jag aldrig varit en del av ditt liv
fastän du kanske avskyr mig ännu...
Jag finns här.
Jag väntar.
Mitt hjärta är stort nog för både dig och din son
om du vågar beröras
om du vågar släppa in
Jag finns här
älskade syster min
I hjärtat, i tiden där vid din sida.
Kom, snälla, jag önskar dig allt gott!
Vila i min omfamning, trygg.
Du och jag, vi har levt tillsammans alltid
ända sedan jag föddes har du funnits där
men aldrig nära, aldrig du och jag
aldrig jag i din absoluta närhet
Nu är du en mor liksom vår
Jag är fortfarande här
bredvid dig, bakom dig
vart du än går
fastän att jag aldrig funnits i ditt hjärta
fasten jag aldrig varit en del av ditt liv
fastän du kanske avskyr mig ännu...
Jag finns här.
Jag väntar.
Mitt hjärta är stort nog för både dig och din son
om du vågar beröras
om du vågar släppa in
Jag finns här
älskade syster min
27 maj 2009
När jag var liten var jag aldrig ensam,
jag var i sällskap av vinden
lekte med färgerna och trädgården
kurragömma bland björkarna när inte syster hade tid
Månen och jag var vakna samtidigt,
vi kunde tala i timmar
och sagorna tog med mig till drömmarnas land
Än i dag är jag aldrig ensam
Jag hänger med havet,
talar med träden
skrattar med måsarna och smyglyssnar på duvornas kärleksförklaringar
Med kroppen mot jorden är jag alltid trygg
Jag vet att änglarna hör mig
Min bror är den som söker en syster
Min syster är en källa till livet
Jag är aldrig ensam,
I sällskap av allt Gud givit!
jag var i sällskap av vinden
lekte med färgerna och trädgården
kurragömma bland björkarna när inte syster hade tid
Månen och jag var vakna samtidigt,
vi kunde tala i timmar
och sagorna tog med mig till drömmarnas land
Än i dag är jag aldrig ensam
Jag hänger med havet,
talar med träden
skrattar med måsarna och smyglyssnar på duvornas kärleksförklaringar
Med kroppen mot jorden är jag alltid trygg
Jag vet att änglarna hör mig
Min bror är den som söker en syster
Min syster är en källa till livet
Jag är aldrig ensam,
I sällskap av allt Gud givit!
24 maj 2009
På sistone har min styrka satts på prov. Den jag trodde jag besatt hur som helst.
Den svagaste länken, den sköraste punkten föll i ljuset och brast.
Som en åskådare stod jag och lät det ske. Deltog, ja visst, jag erkänner.
Muren jag byggt upp föll för mina fötter och bräcklighetens ansikte mötte mig när dammet lagt sig.
Idag gråter jag tysta tårar över det som skett men lär utav smärtan. Reser mig ur kaoset och borstar av mina knän.
Tacksam att få se min svaghet. Ur den ska en starkare krigare födas.
Den svagaste länken, den sköraste punkten föll i ljuset och brast.
Som en åskådare stod jag och lät det ske. Deltog, ja visst, jag erkänner.
Muren jag byggt upp föll för mina fötter och bräcklighetens ansikte mötte mig när dammet lagt sig.
Idag gråter jag tysta tårar över det som skett men lär utav smärtan. Reser mig ur kaoset och borstar av mina knän.
Tacksam att få se min svaghet. Ur den ska en starkare krigare födas.
20 maj 2009
Nattvandring
I kväll går jag över broar. Tänder ett bloss längs vägen.
Tänker svunna tankar i ny regi och lägger en evighet bakom mig.
Det finns en kraft i marken, i själva jorden, som en källa till livet vi inte behärskar. Naturen bjuder på midsommarblomster, fukt och mylla som afrodisiak, och alla dofter tilltar i styrka vartefter kvällen lider...
Jag står invid grinden. Jag möts där. Jag har en vandring att göra och det är sent men nektergalen sjunger så vackert och jag är inte rädd. Min själs natt är inte mörk och morgonen kommer snart åter.
Gryningsljuset är så skört över ängen där daggen ligger blottad, våt och förgänglig när som värmen stiger. Precis som rädslorna, när ljuset får spela och skrattet får skuggan att vekna.
Jag vänder mig inte om sedan jag stängt grinden. Eden ligger öppen.
Tänker svunna tankar i ny regi och lägger en evighet bakom mig.
Det finns en kraft i marken, i själva jorden, som en källa till livet vi inte behärskar. Naturen bjuder på midsommarblomster, fukt och mylla som afrodisiak, och alla dofter tilltar i styrka vartefter kvällen lider...
Jag står invid grinden. Jag möts där. Jag har en vandring att göra och det är sent men nektergalen sjunger så vackert och jag är inte rädd. Min själs natt är inte mörk och morgonen kommer snart åter.
Gryningsljuset är så skört över ängen där daggen ligger blottad, våt och förgänglig när som värmen stiger. Precis som rädslorna, när ljuset får spela och skrattet får skuggan att vekna.
Jag vänder mig inte om sedan jag stängt grinden. Eden ligger öppen.
19 maj 2009
Sharing
I see your fear, brother, and I know how you feel.
I see how you suffer, sister, and I know how you feel.
Mothers cry, tears of compasion
Fathers do not bend....
I see you all, and I feel what you feel!
I know you all, as a shadow of my past...
... I have to go... withdraw... seek within and above...
God?
I reclaim the truth! Bestolen from the hearts of mankind.
To share with you, sisters, sisters.... all of love and compasion.
Bring peace to your heart, brother.
To eaze my mothers hearts
To give my fathers strenght
To give gold to you who believe you are poor
To restore dignity to you who believe you are brokend
To share all with you who knows the true values....
Please, God, let us see....
Please, God, let us be free....
I reclaim the truth, bestolen from the hearts of mankind.
I see how you suffer, sister, and I know how you feel.
Mothers cry, tears of compasion
Fathers do not bend....
I see you all, and I feel what you feel!
I know you all, as a shadow of my past...
... I have to go... withdraw... seek within and above...
God?
I reclaim the truth! Bestolen from the hearts of mankind.
To share with you, sisters, sisters.... all of love and compasion.
Bring peace to your heart, brother.
To eaze my mothers hearts
To give my fathers strenght
To give gold to you who believe you are poor
To restore dignity to you who believe you are brokend
To share all with you who knows the true values....
Please, God, let us see....
Please, God, let us be free....
I reclaim the truth, bestolen from the hearts of mankind.
16 maj 2009
lesson no.1 - ask about the catch!
I would like to object; though I know
It´s the order of things, that we are in shapes this time
It´s just the order, now.
But it´s as I recall another state,
another way,
a bodyless shape...
that I´m not in, this time around
perhaps it´s the punishment mentioned in the Bibel
The gate to Eden is closed
"Go! seak thy worldly kingdom if you believe it is better than love!"
What if the leaf they covered up with are a symbol of the body...
Why, oh why did I not ask "what´s the catch?", when given the chance to live again.....
It´s the order of things, that we are in shapes this time
It´s just the order, now.
But it´s as I recall another state,
another way,
a bodyless shape...
that I´m not in, this time around
perhaps it´s the punishment mentioned in the Bibel
The gate to Eden is closed
"Go! seak thy worldly kingdom if you believe it is better than love!"
What if the leaf they covered up with are a symbol of the body...
Why, oh why did I not ask "what´s the catch?", when given the chance to live again.....
15 maj 2009
laws by nature - laws by love
Do you believe in the laws of nature?
Let me ad a little information...
In nature there is no such thing as need
there is no such life that craves by nature
no such heart that is not loving...
Your physical body is the only thing that is "you"
a vessal, a tool, a machine if you like
All your feelings
comes out of either fear or love
All expressions
are manifestations of God or fear
Now...
Do you feel the difference?
Perhaps you believe in God, perhaps you don´t.
It does´nt matter anyway
because there is no such thing as a believe in God.
Either you feel God, or you do not.
Or let me put it this way;
Either you recognize the expression of God through yourself, or you do not.
Now;
Do you feel God?
If not;
Re-membering yourself
is the key
All of you - every single aspect
as it is, as it was, as it will become
Now, invite God to be with you
as you Re-member Your Self
put the pieces unto display and watch what happens
All is there, no matter how you try to forget
All is there, even if you try to hide it
All is there, and all is part of you
Now see it,
together with the loving precense of God
Let it fall into light
All of it
Now...
Do you feel God?
Let me ad a little information...
In nature there is no such thing as need
there is no such life that craves by nature
no such heart that is not loving...
Your physical body is the only thing that is "you"
a vessal, a tool, a machine if you like
All your feelings
comes out of either fear or love
All expressions
are manifestations of God or fear
Now...
Do you feel the difference?
Perhaps you believe in God, perhaps you don´t.
It does´nt matter anyway
because there is no such thing as a believe in God.
Either you feel God, or you do not.
Or let me put it this way;
Either you recognize the expression of God through yourself, or you do not.
Now;
Do you feel God?
If not;
Re-membering yourself
is the key
All of you - every single aspect
as it is, as it was, as it will become
Now, invite God to be with you
as you Re-member Your Self
put the pieces unto display and watch what happens
All is there, no matter how you try to forget
All is there, even if you try to hide it
All is there, and all is part of you
Now see it,
together with the loving precense of God
Let it fall into light
All of it
Now...
Do you feel God?
13 maj 2009
into the wide
I met with Mother Gaya the other night,
droped into the wide, wide knowledge
And though she said nothing, she showed me
theres nothing as time or history
still
The only me that is, is in the experience of me in time
limited to believe in what I se,
in what I precieve
in that I feel
Now
Mother Gaya let me se
there is nothing as a Me
I am all and all is me in the co-exicting realms of energy
Limited to bodysence
Limited by believe
Limited my mind that struggles to be free
I laugh now I know,
It´s nothing to be afraid of,
nothing is true in this emagination
Yet, this body is alive.
The piece of mind that is the experience of me
is still bound to time
It´s fine! I laugh now I know,
there is nothing to be afraid of!
droped into the wide, wide knowledge
And though she said nothing, she showed me
theres nothing as time or history
still
The only me that is, is in the experience of me in time
limited to believe in what I se,
in what I precieve
in that I feel
Now
Mother Gaya let me se
there is nothing as a Me
I am all and all is me in the co-exicting realms of energy
Limited to bodysence
Limited by believe
Limited my mind that struggles to be free
I laugh now I know,
It´s nothing to be afraid of,
nothing is true in this emagination
Yet, this body is alive.
The piece of mind that is the experience of me
is still bound to time
It´s fine! I laugh now I know,
there is nothing to be afraid of!
3 maj 2009
Friheten har många ansikten
Hur föklarar man för någon, det som inte går att förklara? Hur beskriver man en vision för en blind?
Jag ser det du inte ser. Vet det du inte vet.
Varför?
Jag vet inte. Det har bara alltid varit så.
Du är upprörd och trött, jag ser det i dina färger. De fladrar som en ljuslåga...
...och det som inte är menat som ett nålstick, skär ändå igenom din kropp.
Motorsåg genom blåbetong och sanden rinner ur timmglaset om du står kvar och låter det göra ont.
Älskade vän, jag ser att du tvivlar, men för att orka måste jag blunda. För att hoppas måste jag be och när mina bilder blir sanna måste jag orka stå och se. Jag vill inte såra dig, men jag har inget annat val om du väljer att bli det.
Det är tungt att möta sin ensamhet när den skrämmer. Svårt att andas när det bränner. Friheten har många ansikten...lika många som Gud.
Jag önskar du kunde se vad jag ser.
Jag ser det du inte ser. Vet det du inte vet.
Varför?
Jag vet inte. Det har bara alltid varit så.
Du är upprörd och trött, jag ser det i dina färger. De fladrar som en ljuslåga...
...och det som inte är menat som ett nålstick, skär ändå igenom din kropp.
Motorsåg genom blåbetong och sanden rinner ur timmglaset om du står kvar och låter det göra ont.
Älskade vän, jag ser att du tvivlar, men för att orka måste jag blunda. För att hoppas måste jag be och när mina bilder blir sanna måste jag orka stå och se. Jag vill inte såra dig, men jag har inget annat val om du väljer att bli det.
Det är tungt att möta sin ensamhet när den skrämmer. Svårt att andas när det bränner. Friheten har många ansikten...lika många som Gud.
Jag önskar du kunde se vad jag ser.
30 april 2009
InShallah. Jag kommer fram.
På vägen till det heliga berget, där jag skall avlägga mitt löfte, stannar jag invid stranden och tar av mina sadaler. Vattnet svalkar skönt och kitlar kallt mot anklarna. En lisa för trötta fötter.
Min Zahir är den oas där mitt hjärta finner ro men för att komma dit måste jag vandra genom livet. Bergen och dalarna, vinden och solen - alla är de prövningar som jag måste möta och sådana är reglerna; skatten finns där regnbågen slutar även de dagar solen skiner.
Du gör mig visst sällskap en bit? Jag ser att du söker du med. Reflektionen talar sanning.
"Jag undrar om jag får välja stigar själv eller om Gud förändrar landskapet vartefter jag beträder marken?" säger du och kisar mot solen. Jag tiger till svar.
Dessa frågor mänskligheten burit på genom excistensen... frågorna utan svar är de enda som aldrig dör, som en slags ordbunden paradox.
"Jag vet inte hur vägen kommer se ut men jag vet att jag är på väg till det heliga berget för jag har gjort ett val. Guds vägar må vara outgrundliga och jag må välja eller inte välja, men berget väntar där det är och jag är inte trött. Vattnet porlar friskt och livgivande längs med vägen och glädjen finns i de små tingen. En vandrerska utan brådska för jag vet att där framme finns ett heligt berg, varje dags vandring är mitt löfte och min Zahir är en oas av frid."
"Kommer du komma fram innan det blir mörkt?" undrar du.
"InShallah. Jag kommer fram."
Min Zahir är den oas där mitt hjärta finner ro men för att komma dit måste jag vandra genom livet. Bergen och dalarna, vinden och solen - alla är de prövningar som jag måste möta och sådana är reglerna; skatten finns där regnbågen slutar även de dagar solen skiner.
Du gör mig visst sällskap en bit? Jag ser att du söker du med. Reflektionen talar sanning.
"Jag undrar om jag får välja stigar själv eller om Gud förändrar landskapet vartefter jag beträder marken?" säger du och kisar mot solen. Jag tiger till svar.
Dessa frågor mänskligheten burit på genom excistensen... frågorna utan svar är de enda som aldrig dör, som en slags ordbunden paradox.
"Jag vet inte hur vägen kommer se ut men jag vet att jag är på väg till det heliga berget för jag har gjort ett val. Guds vägar må vara outgrundliga och jag må välja eller inte välja, men berget väntar där det är och jag är inte trött. Vattnet porlar friskt och livgivande längs med vägen och glädjen finns i de små tingen. En vandrerska utan brådska för jag vet att där framme finns ett heligt berg, varje dags vandring är mitt löfte och min Zahir är en oas av frid."
"Kommer du komma fram innan det blir mörkt?" undrar du.
"InShallah. Jag kommer fram."
26 april 2009
jag såg er
Jag såg er.
Äkligt! vidrigt var det
Jag såg er och hallen var tyst som i graven
ensam i mörkret smög jag
Jag såg er.
Konstigt, smutsigt var det
Jag minns att jag somnade först långt långt senare
och drömde säkert med
Tänk vilka spår, vilka mönster det skapat
en syn så kort så kort
Samlag i natten sen barnen somnat
trodde ni
men jag såg er, jag såg er
Äkligt! vidrigt var det
Jag såg er och hallen var tyst som i graven
ensam i mörkret smög jag
Jag såg er.
Konstigt, smutsigt var det
Jag minns att jag somnade först långt långt senare
och drömde säkert med
Tänk vilka spår, vilka mönster det skapat
en syn så kort så kort
Samlag i natten sen barnen somnat
trodde ni
men jag såg er, jag såg er
25 april 2009
Jag såg ett barn idag
Jag såg ett barn idag. En flicka som inte ville leka med andra barn, men vara ensam i sitt rum och i sin egen värld. Var hon lycklig? Det vet jag inte. Men i hennes ögon fanns en sorg som inte fötts ur intet. En frustration över någonting hon inte kunde förstå sig på. En vilja att vara ensam till följd av en brist på förståelse, en rädsla för det okända till följd av en alldeles för trygg värld.
Lekte hon där för att hon verkligen ville eller för att hon inte orkade med smärtan i att inte få vara med de andra barnen? Av rädsla för att bli utestängd innesluten?
Jag såg det barnet idag och det barnet var Jag.
Så många år av inkapslad smärta. År av frustration utan förklaring. Så många år som jag förträngt, känslor jag valt att inte minnas inte känna inte låta vara en del av mig. Hur har jag kunnat leva med detta inom mig utan att förstå? Hur mycket mer finns det att se...?
Mina tårar idag förlöste en smärta från då. Som ett barn grät jag. Bitterhet och skuld och övergivenhet långt in i hjärtat... Som om Jag gråtit då, just där i min barnslighet grät jag idag och insåg att tiden inte har någon makt över våra liv egentligen. Allting går att läka också i efterhand för Jag är den jag är just nu plus alla dagar jag levt. Alla minnen och alla upplevelser är i mig och de är inte bundna av tiden.
Jag fick se en skymt idag... av det barn jag varit... som vill läka och leka genom mig Nu...
Gud, ge mig styrka att orka se min sorg med glädje.
Lekte hon där för att hon verkligen ville eller för att hon inte orkade med smärtan i att inte få vara med de andra barnen? Av rädsla för att bli utestängd innesluten?
Jag såg det barnet idag och det barnet var Jag.
Så många år av inkapslad smärta. År av frustration utan förklaring. Så många år som jag förträngt, känslor jag valt att inte minnas inte känna inte låta vara en del av mig. Hur har jag kunnat leva med detta inom mig utan att förstå? Hur mycket mer finns det att se...?
Mina tårar idag förlöste en smärta från då. Som ett barn grät jag. Bitterhet och skuld och övergivenhet långt in i hjärtat... Som om Jag gråtit då, just där i min barnslighet grät jag idag och insåg att tiden inte har någon makt över våra liv egentligen. Allting går att läka också i efterhand för Jag är den jag är just nu plus alla dagar jag levt. Alla minnen och alla upplevelser är i mig och de är inte bundna av tiden.
Jag fick se en skymt idag... av det barn jag varit... som vill läka och leka genom mig Nu...
Gud, ge mig styrka att orka se min sorg med glädje.
22 april 2009
Lev och du får veta
Jag funderar ofta över varför jag är som jag är, och om det till slut skall uppenbara sig ett svar på den frågan. Liksom ett; "Aha, nu förstår jag hur det kommer sig!" för det vore så skönt.
Det finns många som klurar på samma sak och många som försöker skapa titlar och tillhörighetsmöjligheter för sådana som mig. Betalar man ett antal hundra kronor kan man få höra någon annan tala om vad han/hon kommit fram till efter sina timmar på kammaren. Och visst kan det vara lockande, att få ett svar. Köpa konceptet och i alla fall ha det att hålla fast vid när de egna tankarna skakar om medvetandets trädgård. Att tro på någonting.
För det är lättare att tro på det någon annan redan tror på. To Re-member, höra till, höra ihop... Samhörigheten klingar som ett vindspel och jag älskar det. Vill höra mer. Höra till. Och ändå....
Jag hör inte till. Inte någonstanns. Jag är bara en droppe i havet. Lika mycket del av allt och lika lite del av någon speciell sorts vatten. Vi är alla sådana. Men vad är det då som gör att olika situationer och upplevelser skapar olika mycket resonans i kärlekslådan? För jag tänker mig oss människor som gitarrer, där strängarna är våra kalibreringsinstrument för att kunna avgöra vad som får oss i harmoni. För visst är det så, att det är just i harmoni vi så gärna vill vara. I alla fall jag. Dova och ljusa toner klingar tillfälligt i en harmonisk melodi. Det kan till och med bli disonans utan att det stör! Så länge harmonin är där, i grunden.
Vad får mig i harmoni? Kanske är det den enda frågan värd att ställa mig själv. Bara genom upplevelser kan jag förstå och livet är upplevelsernas källa. Så, kanske är det svarens svar; lev och du får veta. Tillbaks på ruta ett med andra ord. Tack då.
Det finns många som klurar på samma sak och många som försöker skapa titlar och tillhörighetsmöjligheter för sådana som mig. Betalar man ett antal hundra kronor kan man få höra någon annan tala om vad han/hon kommit fram till efter sina timmar på kammaren. Och visst kan det vara lockande, att få ett svar. Köpa konceptet och i alla fall ha det att hålla fast vid när de egna tankarna skakar om medvetandets trädgård. Att tro på någonting.
För det är lättare att tro på det någon annan redan tror på. To Re-member, höra till, höra ihop... Samhörigheten klingar som ett vindspel och jag älskar det. Vill höra mer. Höra till. Och ändå....
Jag hör inte till. Inte någonstanns. Jag är bara en droppe i havet. Lika mycket del av allt och lika lite del av någon speciell sorts vatten. Vi är alla sådana. Men vad är det då som gör att olika situationer och upplevelser skapar olika mycket resonans i kärlekslådan? För jag tänker mig oss människor som gitarrer, där strängarna är våra kalibreringsinstrument för att kunna avgöra vad som får oss i harmoni. För visst är det så, att det är just i harmoni vi så gärna vill vara. I alla fall jag. Dova och ljusa toner klingar tillfälligt i en harmonisk melodi. Det kan till och med bli disonans utan att det stör! Så länge harmonin är där, i grunden.
Vad får mig i harmoni? Kanske är det den enda frågan värd att ställa mig själv. Bara genom upplevelser kan jag förstå och livet är upplevelsernas källa. Så, kanske är det svarens svar; lev och du får veta. Tillbaks på ruta ett med andra ord. Tack då.
21 april 2009
Maktub
Som om det är skrivet, sker det som ska ske. Jag ser bara de stjärnor jag ser men där finns så oändligt många fler. Det som väntar efter gryningen är en rymd vars excistens jag bara anat. Det som sker sker. Maktub.
Nej, min vän, Jag är inte naiv men har accepterat min plats på jorden. Jag får aldrig glömma att ödmjukt vända mina händer mot solen, att be om Nåd och tacksamt öppna mitt hjärta... Vägen är inte min att staka ut, lyckan blir mig given. De stjärnor jag ser är de jag ser men Gud ser fler...
I stunderna mellan ögonblicken jag alltid kommer att minnas går det mänskliga påhittet tiden. Ögonblicken är guldkornen i sanden, vaskar gör jag ständigt och jämt. Alkemisten förvandlar istället sandet till guld men jag undrar om det inte är just sanden som gör att guldet glänser.
Alkemist är jag inte, sanden är vacker i sig självt. Stjärnorna blinkar mot en nattsvart himmel och jag har ett liv att vårda.
Maktub.
Nej, min vän, Jag är inte naiv men har accepterat min plats på jorden. Jag får aldrig glömma att ödmjukt vända mina händer mot solen, att be om Nåd och tacksamt öppna mitt hjärta... Vägen är inte min att staka ut, lyckan blir mig given. De stjärnor jag ser är de jag ser men Gud ser fler...
I stunderna mellan ögonblicken jag alltid kommer att minnas går det mänskliga påhittet tiden. Ögonblicken är guldkornen i sanden, vaskar gör jag ständigt och jämt. Alkemisten förvandlar istället sandet till guld men jag undrar om det inte är just sanden som gör att guldet glänser.
Alkemist är jag inte, sanden är vacker i sig självt. Stjärnorna blinkar mot en nattsvart himmel och jag har ett liv att vårda.
Maktub.
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