The other day I spent some days at the sea. Not any sea – but the place where I was born. I left it behind when my parents divorced and have only returned for holidays since. This time was different, though. When I got there and took my first deep breath, the fresh salty ocean air must have found a secret pathway to a spot deep, deep within me that had been lying dormant for a good three decades. It touched it, ever so gently. And suddenly I knew: I have to go back. I have to go. HOME.
Tag: authenticity
Voices we shall never hear
I am in a bit of a writing frenzy, as you may have noticed. Usually, it’s not unusual for me to not post anything in a few months. Recently, however, I have been itching to write, to get things off my chest, or just think out aloud. Today I discovered a quote, a really beautiful one, that captured the essence of what I felt I wanted to write about: The mysterious world of animals. And how humans tend to perceive them. Wrongly perhaps.
Ordinary
The other day I watched a YouTube video on being ordinary. Or rather, why we tend to believe we have to be extra-ordinary to be considered successful, worthy, or achieved. I’ve long felt that all this talk about how to find your purpose, your calling, your passion is creating a new kind of anxiety. The anxiety of not ever finding out what we are here for. It puts the pressure on. When it might be way more helpful to take it off. And just relax into ourselves.
Closed for repairs
While browsing YouTube, as I often like to do, I stumbled upon this little treasure of a video. About breakdowns. It hit a nerve even though my own is now almost past tense. I say almost because I have not yet resolved all of the issues which threw me into it in the first place. But I like to think that I’m well on my way. Which is probably the reason I can start to appreciate the hidden benefit of breakdowns: the call to healing.
Losing weight
I’ve lost a lot of weight recently. Tons and tons of emotional baggage that I’d gotten used to carrying around with me like a giant metal ball attached to my ankle. A ball that had grown and grown and grown so big – that one day I just couldn’t pull it along with me any longer. Not one more inch. It had become too heavy. I was stuck. Stuck in a place where I could do only one of two things: stay stuck forever or start shrinking that ball, or better yet, unleash myself from it all together.
my one life. today 
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