Yes. I have a day with a lot of doubts and second-guessing myself. What if I can’t do what I want to do? What if it takes trainings and money that I don’t have? I absolutely don’t mind more trainings – in fact, that’s what I want – but seeing how I’ve had barely any income in the past month and things are looking decidedly (stressingly) bleak ahead, any costs is an issue. And yet I am realist enough to know that I won’t be able to go from here to there in one simple and short step. It’ll be a journey of several steps. I only wish I could see outside of my own hazy doubts… Today, that’s proving harder than usual. I still struggle with the fact that I’m not exceptional, and I want to be. I’m good at lots of things, but amazing in none. I feel like I can keep my nose above water but rarely be among the best. I can help others reach their potential, but more than anything I want to reach MY potential. I want to shine brighter than anyone else, I want to excel, I want to be the best, or among the best. I want to be amazing.

Once again I have this feeling that other people my age and younger have by far surpassed me in work training and experience, while I was idling the years away with unfocussed studies that only barely masked the fact that I was hellbent on self-destruction. I don’t normally think like this, as I know that my studies have all been useful, and my experiences have made me who I am today, as well as wiser and humbler than many older than me. But when I start thinking that maybe 35-going-on-36 is quite late to figure out what I want, with no savings and no student grants left to fall back on, I feel that my age may be an obstacle.

About this time in my thoughts, the positivist in me intervenes: I am good at what I do and even better at what I want to do; I hold wisdom way beyond my years, am a fast learner and great teacher and lecturer. If I can’t see how good I am, maybe others can. I remind myself of the aura reading from a few years back when I was told that even though I don’t think I’m very good at anything, others find me annoyingly good at everything and I tend to outshine others without even realising it. Maybe that’s so. Maybe my doubt stems from the fact that deep down, I am aware of the enormous power and potential I hold and am unsatisfied because I haven’t even begun to fulfil it. Maybe it’s resistance that expresses itself through doubt and fear of not being good enough, and even fear of being good – of succeeding, of excelling, of being exceptional. Of shining. Because what if I do?

It doesn’t help me figure out what’s the next step, or really stop the thoughts of everyone else already being better than me, but if I can challenge those thoughts and make them more nuanced, I’ve already taken steps in the right direction.

And a question lingers: How far can I really reach?

Winter

The depressive fog lifts somewhat, but the anxiousness stays on. I’m semi-seriously considering whether to enter the dark mirror and become anorexic again, but I choose health. There really is no option and thoughts are only ever thoughts. I still wonder whether I will always live with this darkness, this dark passenger of mine.

When you’ve lived in the dark for so long, is it ever really possible to live in the light? To shake off the darkness and go on as if you’d never seen it, tasted it, felt it, lived it? Can it be that there are some wounds that are too deep to heal? Will there always be a shadow? Will there always be scars of darkness that might open again? When you’ve lived in the dark for so long, can you ever be free?

The Twilight Saga offers me some much needed escapism and makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t done for long. My emotions are reawakening, stronger than ever, as is the longing for love. A longing for loving in the way I know I am capable of; deeply and in a way that changes me into my soul. I realise that I’ve never been really in love, never quite ready for a unconditionally open my heart and let love transform me for ever. I decide to dare to dream without trying to control the outcome. Turn 35. Write more. Decide to go back to dancing. Get another cat, my little Bonnie.

Workstress over the next book. The spring term of Tribal Fusion classes begins, and for the first time in 15 years I am back in a dance class. Since it’s a completely new style I have no demands on myself to excel and can enjoy just learning something new, as a hobby. That’s a good thought, but it doesn’t last for long. I am soon hooked but feel useless, as it’s a new way of moving and I’m not mastering it as soon as I want to. Struggle with my demands on myself and really try to keep them at bay and just enjoy myself and the magical union of music, dance, and body – it’s just so much fun! End therapy.

Feel more and more at home in the BDSM/fetish world, meet M and experience definite physical attraction. I’m still glad to have met him, because there are a lot of less reliable people in this world.  Then again, I’m 35 and know myself a lot better than most other people around.

Spring

Dance, sex, fun. A simple relationship, but I’m not in love. Tired and stressed to my breaking point. I’m growing in acceptance of who I am and what I like. Grieve over friends who can’t accept that friendship has to be on equal terms; I can’t dance to someone else’s tune, I can’t hang out if and only when it suits them, and I won’t be controlled. By anyone. Betrayal by someone I trusted. I’m learning to let go of other people’s demands and expectations of me, prioritise what I need and try hard to not be affected by the reactions of other people when I place myself first. Which is of course easier said than done. Realise that I can let my guard down and be weak and vulnerable if I feel safe.

Make up jobs, easter ball, dance. Dance workshops during the Tribal Powertrip Weekend – I feel nervous and a complete newbie, but am proud to say that I pull through. The dark/Gothic fusion workshop is heaven and I am absolutely reminded of why I chose to dance fusion. Invaluable girlfriends. Am tired and restless, absolutely understimulated. Insomnia, lack of sleep and lots of doubt in myself and everything else. M acts distant and dissociative.

Dumped again, once again get a strong feeling that there’s something wrong with me and I’m incapable of loving. (Even though I didn’t love.) Some girlfriends are angels that rescue me. Want to go comfort shopping but have a couple of new piercings done – just as well to do them when there’s no-one to disturb the healing process. Realise that my reaction to being dumped concerns my fear of being forever alone because I am not good enough and thus unlovable; not that I’ve lost the love of my life. I haven’t. Massive anxiety, lots of weight thoughts, but I keep myself busy in order to escape some of the feelings when there’s too much going on in my head. Do make up for a commercial film. My darling girlfriend S has her wedding party. Eva Brunne is elected bishop in the diocese of Stockholm and Sweden has our first lesbian bishop. Bonnie is in heat and sterilised. I miss the first classes of the summer dance courses because of work; it’s an uphill struggle with myself and a body that seems to refuse to obey. Anxiety and depression are constant companions, but I can almost ignore them at times. May ends with summer warmth and a more positive feeling.

Summer

Tattoo #7, which I’m madly pleased about. Am elected into the SHEDO board and am back in eating disorder and self-harm support. Discuss spirituality with lovely dance friends and realise that my spiritual side is stronger and most definitely active again, and once again a natural part of my life. It has been very lonely to be the only one around with pagan(ish) beliefs. My Priestess self is part of me and no longer to be denied. Awakening in the importance of living in my truth and being completely true to myself. Open myself to the power of transformation and sense that there is a huge change under way. Feel a bit like a butterfly waiting to break through the chrysalis; waiting to find the space to spread my wings.

I take the last step in coming out as a lesbian. It’s been a long process, and I have no idea what took me so long. It’s really not a big or overwhelming step at all, nothing traumatic. Simple, natural. I really can’t deny myself into thinking that I’m bisexual or want a man any longer, because emotionally, a man hasn’t done anything for me in ages. And whatever they can do, a woman can do better. As soon as the final piece falls into place and I 100% confirm my orientation to myself, I hear Rhiannon saying “Finally. What took you so long”, and I realise that She showed me this a few years ago, and quite clearly so. I guess I was just too stuck in the normative bog to fully understand. But now I am wholer in who I am, my preferences, my identity. I’m not saying that I’ll never have sex with a man again, because sometimes things just happen, but I make a distinction between sexual acts and sexual identity.

Dance moves higher and higher on my list of Important Things – did I ever really think that I could keep it a pastime, a simple hobby? No – I dance for life and live to dance, but I struggle hard with my enormous demands and expectations of myself, and the feeling of being too bad, never good enough. Put on too much weight during the summer break; and I had been so happy with and proud of my body during spring! Huge battles with myself during the last summer classes; when I look at myself in the mirror I only see this fat, tattooed chick who just can’t get anything right. Cry on the bus home and seriously consider burning my dance gear and burying this whole thing, because I am just one big failure. But I calm down, suck it up and decide to give it another term before I give up. Because I can’t quit and I have a feeling that things will get better, I know I have more potential than this, and also – I’m hooked. Addicted to dance. The mental training for dancers workshop makes me realise that I’ve made the right choice and helps me to focus and set goals for the term.

Autumn

Dance, dance, dance. SHEDO, support work. Financially everything is getting so much harder, not least when my publisher tells me that they’re dropping most of their fantasy authors, among them “my” author. In one go I lose 50% of my yearly earning. Youngest sister turns 30, I dye my hair black. Brother D and his wife E have a daughter – my 4th niece.

Dark & Tribalicious weekend. Amazing workshops for some of the best dancers and teachers; am in awe over the fact that I’m not a complete failure. I practise for almost an hour a day, have goals and am determined to fulfill them. Dancing is fun again, joyous. Yes, I have expectations of myself, but also more patience. And no matter how bad my day has been, when I start dancing it all goes away and I go into my dance place. Feel like I’m making progress and try to keep my expectations realistic, which is always easier said than done. Suddenly it’s like all light falls on my flaws, the things I need to improve, rather than the things I do right; and I feel like I’m stuck and not moving forward, which I at the same time know I’m doing. I explore my own expression, my energy in dance. Love it.

My spirituality grows stronger. I feel Rhiannon’s presence clearly, am open to loving and being loved, feel the kundalini energy stirring and rising; I know something is coming. I still struggle with the idea that someone could be interested in me – which I realise when a friend asks me if I think another person is interested in me. What, me? Nah… I wish but why would anyone be interested in me? Try to let go of the thought of how, who, and when love will come and to just be. While I long to fall in love and meet someone, I am happy to be single, to not have to explain to anyone why the dance is SO important to me. No-one objects to anything I do or asks me to explain my priorities; I call the shots in my life. I realise that I really can’t have a serious relationship with anyone lesser than an equal, and equals are hard to come by and far between. Am asked whether I arrange ceremonies or workshops and start thinking about that more seriously. It feels like a natural step to take, the main questions is How.

New friends, re-emerging depression, fatigue, anxiety, positive thoughts as an antidote, New Moon. On October 22 the Council of the Swedish Church vote to keep the right of marriage and thus say yes to same gender marriages. VICTORY!

Winter again

Dance, dance, dance.  SHEDO. Frustration that gives birth to new thoughts. I realise that I have a happy basic attitude to life, that I am intrinsically happy. Happiness is a state of mind, not dependent on material wealth or things we have. Which explains how I can be happy even during moments of unhappiness. I keep growing, becoming clearer in what I want. One by one, pieces fall into place, in the midst of intense financial stress, I find thoughts of wanting to do something else, something more. Something new. A big change is coming, the costume of my life is growing to small, I need to break free to spread my wings, blossom, shine, reach my potential.

The desire for exercise reawakens, I get kicks from positive energy and possibilities, begin to recognise myself. Find a soul sister, a sister of fate and experience the weirdest mirroring ever. Confront my memories from being a gifted child in a school system that failed to see or meet my potential, reaffirm and recognise my intelligence. Feel better when I have more intellectual/mental stimuli. The anxiety is always just around the corner and I can’t always distract it completely, but am doing OK. Calm Christmas, am growing aware of how much I’ve changed this year and how I’m feeling more and more like Me.

In short, this was the year when I returned to dance with the same love and passion as when I left it, 15 years ago, but with an infinitely deeper self-knowledge and a creative and artistic need for expression. And I found the perfect combination of dance and my dark side. I’ve accepted and recognised more and more of me as I find things to recognise, and have let go of more denial.

I’m so grateful for what this year has given me, and what I have accomplished, and have a deep understanding for that the growth of this past autumn is just the beginning. I look forward to 2010 and to wherever this path will lead me. Life is good, and can only get better.

2000 – free fall broken
The new millennium starts with a fantastic New Year’s party with dear friends, who were a couple then but have since parted and are now married to other partners. I am increasingly anorexic but do my best to hide it and pretend to be normal. Too much of the delicious 5 course meal still ends up down the drain.

In spring of 2000 I’m doing my 4th term of Comparative Literature studies, which at Göteborg University means that I take a postgrad course (Short fiction, a really good course!), attend postgrad seminars and am supposed to write a master’s thesis. I start the term off with a bang by acting as an opponent for another master’s thesis; a small gathering that takes three hours and is hosted by both of the professors. I’m ridiculously cold all through winter and constantly repeat to myself that I’m not thin enough. Venture deeper and deeper into anorexia, the thesis writing becomes a facade, because I can barely think clearly anymore. Still, I excel in seminars and my course. I start exercising again, in the student gym which has a policy for dealing with eating disorders. I guess I’m hoping that they’ll tell me off if I go too far, because a part of me really wants someone to draw the line and stop me. It doesn’t happen. I’m soon doing 2-3 classes a day, several times a week, purge on a daily basis, at least once a day, even at the gym, and am aware that this can’t go on for long. But the rush – it’s indescribable. I am so happy, when I exercise I am 100% present in the moment and think of nothing else, and I feel safe again. I start out with a new antidepressant and after only a couple of weeks realise that I haven’t been depressed for a couple of days. After 4 years of trying one drug after the other, and almost 15 antidepressants alone and in combinations, the fog lifts and I can live again. The new-found zest for life and energy fuels the anorexic mania. In an act of self-preservation I quit the gym soon after my BMI drops below 14. At a routine ECG check in my GP’s freezing cold examination room I ask for a blanket against the cold, but only meet with the nurse’s critical gaze that scrutinises me upside down and up again before she asks if I’ve considered taking up exercise to boost my circulation. I am too stunned to reply.

Things happen very fast. My beloved ex, S, comes back from a couple of months with his psycho bitch girlfriend in Australia, he gets a job with a localisation firm and brings some colleagues to theatre meetings. I apply for a summer job with the same firm, but don’t get it. One of the new theatre members is a project manager with the localisation firm and offers me a job as a resource, paid hourly. I accept. Today, I can’t even begin to understand how anyone would have dared to employ me then, at a BMI below 13 and probably quite manic, but I apparently made a good impression. I do well at work, am glad that no-one can see how my legs and hands shake at the computer. Have seizures and pass out several times at home. S and I get together again, in some way, after he breaks up with the psycho bitch. I go out for lunch with my colleagues, as S works there and I can’t escape it. The free fall is broken. I unintentionally overdose on my antidepressants all through summer and am totally oblivious to that until I go to have my prescription refilled and am told that I can’t have that yet. Oups. However, that was probably just what I needed to be anxiety-free, start eating and gain a lot of weight (in my mind a lot).

I go to day care, 3 half days a week, during autumn and relapse. I want to be free but am not yet motivated to stop starving and really gain weight. I use any excuse to get away from recovery. The one good thing from that group is the physiotherapist, A, who is forever my angel. I quit the treatment but manage to keep seeing A. Start my own business in October, as I’ve reached the maximum hourly limit at work.

2001 – the first steps out
Fighting with the health care system to be allowed to go into a treatment centre. Take part in radio programs about eating disorders. Struggle to motivate myself to leave anorexia, and do so-so. A couple of steps forward, slipping back, but with a general direction forward. A is my guardian angel who helps me find the healthy me inside, and she dares to be tough on me. Finally get the funding to go into treatment, but have to wait until autumn. Lead a more normal life; cooking with friends, a dinner that gets out of hand and turns into something else, take another couple of steps “out” by joining the Bi group and party with them. Go for many long walks, often walking at least half the way home from town at night, for hours every weekend. I work as much as possible, periods of intense work followed by period of being ill when I crash. Go to a crazy, fun 30 years bash in Falkenberg, fall really ill but wait a week before I see a doctor as I have too much work to do. The result is hideous sinusitis and my first otitis as an adult. Go to London and meet friends. EU summit with riots in Gothenburg. Tattoo number one. I create a recovery oriented web forum for eating disorders, ViFinns, and start private therapy after summer, to boost myself as much as possible before I go into treatment.

On September 11 I am on my way home from University and hear on the radio how a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center, soon followed by a second plane. My immediate thought is: “what a crap pilot” and that the second plane probably couldn’t see because of the smoke. I turn on the TV when I get home and it stays on all day. Start phoning friends when the news about terrorism are confirmed.

In late October I go into treatment for 8 weeks. I am critical but cooperative and deeply annoyed with all the unmotivated patients who take up expensive treatment places without wanting to recover. I speak to A on the phone forthnightly, which is not liked by staff. I get home on leave to see Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Make progress, put on weight, which is my goal with the treatment there, but am in a state of panic and disgust over growing. We have an utterly pointless family session. I come home a week before Christmas and am determined to keep doing well.

2002 – success and setbacks
Fadime, a Kurdish girl, is killed by her father and honour killing becomes a well-known concept. Author Astrid Lindgren dies. Pointless follow-up weeks in treatment; I feel like crap, am irritable and know that I’m being really childish, but no-one seems to neither see nor hear that I’m feeling so bad. Keep going to therapy and to A, have my ups and downs and get an ultimatum if I slip further. Every week I repress what I weighed the week before. Purge more and more seldom, start exercising again but in a healthy way, which I’m very proud of. Get two cats. Start working again and come autumn I begin my physiotherapy studies. Without any student grants, so I’m pretty much studying and working full-time. We have an amazing anatomy lecturer but I’m appalled at how impossibly stupid some of the occupational therapy students in anatomy class are. Yes, I am elitist. Fall in love with neuro-science and the massage course. Stressing over work and money.

2003 – growth
Take a sabbatical from studying as a physical training course clashes with recovery. Having that amount of scheduled training brings back too many destructive impulses and I don’t want to risk a relapse. Keep working with my support group, ViFinns, and start the local chapter of an ED organisation. Work a lot, motivate others in their recovery. Or try to, as the case may be. The US and its allies attack Iraq and overthrow Saddam Hussein. Work more, exercise. End therapy and get a nurse as a contact. Also terminate with A. Tattoo #2.

Early in the morning of September 11 Swedish foreign secretary Anna Lindh dies from the knife wounds she sustained in an attack the day before. I turn on the radio very early and a reporter says that our Prime Minister looks sad and dogged when he approaches the parliament building, and I know that she has passed. Shock and sorrow.

2004 – spiritual awakening and recovery
Go back to my studies, but half-heartedly. Am beginning to realise that I will have a hard time accepting the general outlook on people that still permeates the health care system (far from holistic) long enough to finish the training. Active in ED support and my ever growing web group. I get clearer and clearer about what is healthy, what’s needed to recover, more secure in my role as motivator. Move. Niece number 2 is born (number 1 was born in 1994). Leave the training for good. Very, very slowly go off antidepressants. Oldest brother gets married.
Huge spiritual awakening. I go to healing and full moon meditations and realise that I can easily connect to the divine/spiritual. Realise that my spiritual source and force is Goddess, a feminine energy. Read The Da Vinci Code and understand that there are others who believe in Goddess, find a starting point to look further into it. Find my way to webpages about Glastonbury and the Goddess Temple in a very strange way, but am forced to cancel a trip there in December due to lack of money. Lecture about eating disorders, hold a one day workshop for confirmand leaders, do an interview for a youth program on TV. Tattoos 3 and 4.

One September evening I realise that I am recovered. That the anorexia is behind me and over. A priceless feeling!

On Boxing Day morning I wake up early and turn on the radio, to hear reports of how an earth quake in the Pacific has caused a major tsunami that swept in over Indonesia and Thailand. I turn the TV on and as the hours pass the width of the disaster becomes clear. Unreal. I get a bit of a shock some days later when the cameras sweep over the boards with names and photos of missing and recognise the names of people from my home town. None of my friends are affected, thank Goddess. But this disaster brings a sense of hope for a resolution of the conflict in the Aceh province in Indonesia, as the Indonesian government readily send help there.

2005 – coming home
ED support involvement, spirituality. On the 8th of January I take part in a meditation for the tsunami victims as the hurricane Gudrun sweeps in over Sweden. No public transport works, so I walk home at night with some difficulty, and have to stop and cling to lamp posts in a couple of places. Exciting but not scary. Am told that I hold such an immense inner light – a bit surprising for someone who’s spent the bigger part of her life in the dark. Do reiki training and am initiated into step 1 & 2 during a very intense weekend. Go from that directly to tactile massage, step 1. Catch a massive cold, I suppose due to the huge amount of healing, break a couple of ribs from coughing and never really get back to normal after that; the tiredness has lingered since. Travel to Glastonbury for Beltane and find my home. A lot of pieces fall into place, Goddess is present and everything clear and simple. That’s where my roots are, and they go deep. Grow stronger, more empowered. Come close to burning myself out trying to help people who don’t really want to recover enough to do the work, learn even more about boundaries and what are my and others’ problems. Grow even stronger in my motivational and guiding work. Go back to Glastonbury in August, am happy and calm there. Read the leaflets about the Esoteric Soul Healing and Priestess of Avalon trainings, feel called to them but think that they are not for me. The practical problems are too big. Tattoo #5.

The hurricane Katrina ravages New Orleans. Rosa Parks passes.

2006 – transformation
Niece number 3 is born. I celebrate Beltane in Glastonbury and take a natural part in the the celebrations. The calling grows stronger; that’s where I am whole, that’s where I belong. Am beginning to get to know lots of people.  Meet another S, who pops up in my thoughts some months later and I suspect that we will have something to do with one another. Am slowly learning to trust my intuition. Invited to speak about motivation at the annual meeting for the Swedish association for eating disorder professionals, and get great feedback. Start private therapy with A and tell her about my spiritual awakening. She’s all support. Seriously consider the Priestess of Avalon training but can’t see how I could afford it. Return to Glastonbury for the Goddess Conference, hook up with S the first night and it doesn’t take 10 minutes before it’s us. Hugely transformative week, realise that my connection to Goddess(es) is much stronger than I thought; that I am stronger than I thought. Hold the Goddess energy, which is an overwhelming experience. Meet soul sisters. Realise that I have no choice: I have to do the training. It will have to work out. Go home, but return at Mabon to visit S in London and go to the ceremony in Glastonbury. The last morning in Glasto brings a gift: the mists settle deep over the town and the crows are ever present. Morgana tells me to “Come back home soon, Sister.” Yes, I am at home.

The training starts at Samhain, a still summery and overwhelming weekend. I feel like Bambi on ice as I have no experiences whatsoever from any form of Paganism, but my ability to learn quickly comes in handy and I realise that I may just have an intuitive knowledge. Deep female relationships with my Sisters. Travel to London for a longer stay with S over winter, but feel slightly apprehensive. Christmas in London is freezing cold, S seems completely uninterested in and unattracted to me; I get really low but try to stay positive. My first nephew is born on X-mas day. We go to Glastonbury for the New Year.

2007 – ups and downs
On New Year’s day S tells me that he’s afraid I might get pregnant and that’s why he keeps away. Right. I feel utterly rejected and realise that he is not the equal I thought he was, but am still prepared to work on it. He apparently isn’t. I go home to the cats and realise that it would be hard to leave them again. S tells me over the phone that his feelings for me have changed, but not after he has already told others. I feel incredibly betrayed for not being the first to know, and for how things turn out during spring. But I feel deep relief over being able to grieve and then move on, held by my Sisters. I drop the web support group. Take part in the Imbolc ceremony after someone falls ill, and love it. Ceremonies come natural to me. Am told that I have a place around the Goddess Temple if I take it, am asked when I’m moving to Glastonbury. Anxiety over what to do with the cats. At Eostre I end up calling in one of the Goddesses in ceremony, once again at short notice. Am growing ever stronger in my truth and beginning to realise that I can be beautiful. Interesting meditation with Rhiannon at Beltane. Form strong friendships in Glastonbury, more perhaps than in my course; I feel strangely wary of getting too close to anyone. Start going to 5Rhythms dances when I’m in Glasto, meet a man there who turns out to have a lot of connection to some of my closer friends. He’s obviously very into me, but I’m not into him. What spark there was goes away when he becomes controlling, and when I tell him that it will never be us, his eyes go black and I realise that my intuition about him having quite a violent side is true.

Am somehow more present in England than in Sweden even though I spend more time in Sweden. Do a moon crescent tattoo on my forehead – a sort if initiation in itself. The last Harry Potter book is published. Work as a Melissa during the Goddess conference, sing in the Lammas ceremony and my training circle lead two morning ceremonies during the conference. For various reasons decide not to go on with the 2nd year; am really hurt by how people talk behind my back instead of to me, and then pretend like nothing’s happened when they see me.

Meet a man who stirs something in me that has been sleeping. Pure physical attraction. We dedicate as Sisters of Avalon at Mabon. A magical night! My vows are strong and true and I realise that it’s really the first step of my intitiation (which happens that winter, with the Lady of Avalon). Have two lovers, one of whom manipulates me and I feel so guilty and stupid for letting myself be manipulated that I don’t assert myself when he wants to go further than I do. Have an abortion, which is a surprisingly positive experience. No doubts whatsoever, at the time I only tell my closest girlfriends who are totally supportive, it clears a number of blockages and the remaining feeling is one of hope. It takes me almost half a year to stop denying the trauma in itself, and the physical reaction comes almost a year later. Debut as a fantasy translator.

Vi har en dedication till Sisters of Avalon vid höstdagjämningen. Magisk! Mina löften känns starka och sanna, jag inser att för mig är det mer än en dedication – det är en initiation.

2008 – stasis
My youngest sister gets married. Heath Ledger dies. Presidential election in the US, I follow Barack Obama’s campaign all through the year and am overjoyed when he wins. Less work, clearly harder times. Keep going to therapy, am clearly growing and proud of how much I’ve changed. Write more and more, feel a growing desire for creativity, expression, for touching others. Challenge my age anxieties and get more piercings. I love body art, so why deny that part of me? My youngest brother gets married and we siblings sing at the reception.

Major stress over money. Do make up artist training during autumn; it’s so much fun and I feel that I am good at it. It’s also a much needed creative challenge. Get my first assignment, a commercial shoot, before graduation. Try to figure out what the physical attraction to Mr hopelessly-immature-will-never-leave-his-girlfriend is about, as I’m not interested in complications and actually, not of him. Just attracted to him. Find my way into the BDSM/fetish scene, after years of thinking and insights, and feel at home there. Spiritually a confused and quite stagnant year. During autumn I grow more and more tired and depressed and end up being on sick leave. Back on antidepressants, but with limited effect. The year ends in a so-so way, partying but exhausted and empty. Life feels hidden beneath a thick fog.

And then there’s 2009, which will deserve its own post.

This song reached right in and grabbed my heart in an ice-cold, numbing vice.

It left me in tears; tears over the things we humans are capable of, the atrocities committed in the name of truth, justice and religion. The lack of civilisation that is the direct result of the cruelty of war, civil war, genocide, hate crime, religious struggle, rape, degradation, torture, bullying, battering, and abuse in its many forms.

I honestly don’t know how they do it; the soldiers who kill civilians, maim and torture innocent people. The guards in the Abu Ghraib prison in Bagdad who degraded and humiliated the prisoners, the torturers in Guantanamo… How could they do what they did and still look another person in the eye? I can’t believe that they actually thought, deep down in their hearts, that it was OK to treat another person like that just because it was an order, or because everyone else did, just as I can’t believe that the guards and officers of the concentration camps deep down could justify what they were doing. They may be stupid and blinded by their leaders’ bullshit about us and them, about how one people has a higher value than another, but deep down in their hearts, surely, they must have a sense of right and wrong. Don’t they know that they are selling out their souls, their civilisation, their humanity, when they abuse and degrade another human being?

I feel things deeply, and I have often felt that the agony over the things that people are capable of is too much to bear; the despair over animal abuse, child abuse, and the atrocities of war grows so heavy that I don’t want to live in a world where such things are allowed to happen (and go unpunished). I feel like the despair and hatred for the perpetrators grow so big that it’s a matter of killing or be killed. I of course don’t, but I feel it.

I want to avert my eyes and forget what humankind is capable of, but what would that make me? A silent accomplice? I believe that any sentient, intelligent, caring person has a duty to see, to witness, and to be the change that is needed. There may be precious little we can do, but any major shift of consciousness has to start from within each and every one of us. And we are able to change the world. Not at once, but bit by bit. We hold the power to live our lives from a place of love, not hate or fear. If we send out love in the world, there will be more love, and we can influence the energy of others by what we choose to send out.

In the words of Mahatma Ghandi: “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

If I could see you, Lady, I might kneel before you and ask what you want from me
But I can’t, and you are not in front of me, but behind me
Watching my back in the dark as I, stumbling, find my way forward
Passing through chambers from memory and halls of future dreams
You remind me that I only ever have to reach out, and You are there

Walking through long-lost memories I open old wounds to heal
and although I feel lost and alone in the dark again
This is the place where everything comes together
And I will walk from the darkness of the lowest dungeon into Danu’s crystal cave
The place of Dreaming, where I can rest in the Stillness before rebirth
And Dream the future into being
Dream Love

In the spiralling castle, outside of space and time
Dream meets reality, and I walk through the corridors of sleep
I will hail Rhiannon as I near Her presence
And find myself once more in Her deep red Hall
In the darkness I search not for the light of day, but for the light of Love
My torch, my beacon

This is the way to the Mirroring, when I open my eyes and find the Soul Mate
When I open my heart again

©Lisa Isaksson, December 12, 2009

However hard I try to escape the black holes in my mind, the darkness, the emptiness, I only manage so far. It’s not an escape in the sense of thinking I can get away from it; more a temporary escape from the feelings while waiting for the light to return. But there is more to it than the darkness of depression. That doesn’t account for the emptiness and the hole inside. Only partially.

I keep thinking that if I fake being whole, act as if I were, fill my life with things that make me feel alive, I will be whole. “Fake it ’til you make it,” right?
I keep thinking that if I can deny the hole, I won’t fall into it, and perhaps not even notice it. But can I make it go away by ignoring it? By trying to fill it with other things – things that are meaningful and fill my life with light and joy – but that still aren’t what is missing? The hole is after something that’s gone missing, and it doesn’t seem like I can fill it with just anything. Or anyone.

I have something in my life that is so important that no matter how bad I feel, I know it makes me feel alive, well, happy. For a time, at least. It’s dance. As essential as breathing, but the effect doesn’t stay for too long. Is it a life-force or a drug; is it part of my being, the very essence of my Self, something that I do because I am alive, or is it something that makes me feel alive by replacing or numbing something else? It can be like a drug in the sense of the dance high, the endorphin rush, the adrenaline rush, but in the best sense possible. Not to mention harmless. It is fire, it is passion, it is creativity – the complete opposites of darkness and depression.
But it’s not enough to heal me, or my life.

When I immerse myself in dance, work, social life, TV, movies, and more than anything else the Twilight Saga, I almost forget about the emptiness, the loneliness, the hole in my heart. I can laugh, I can interact, I can be happy, I can seem normal, insofar as I ever am. I am good great at keeping up pretences, and even better because the happy face is true. Even when it’s not the happy face, I have a polite mask that is almost free from cracks apart from for those who know what to look for, or those who get to catch a glimpse of what’s behind the mask. The polite mask is the one I don’t really know how to put aside, as it’s grown to me. And people believe it. People in general like to believe the lie, the camouflage, the pretences; it is easier that way.

But when I’m alone again, when the movie’s over, the final page of the book turned, when I get weary of endlessly flicking through the channels, when the dance is over and there is nothing and no-one to occupy my mind with, I am still holey. Sometimes, the pain is so strong that I have to remind myself to breathe and all I can do is hold myself together. I know it will pass. Outside of the clutter and distractions of life, I feel lost, invisible, empty and very lonely. And I fear that I have forgotten how to open my heart and life and let someone else in.

Because, of course that’s what it’s all about: Love. I hold so much love inside that I sometimes feel like I could burst into flames or explode in a myriad of tiny hearts. But there is nowhere to channel it; no-one to share it with. The give-and-take of shared love, of giving and receiving love, of being loved… that’s missing in my life. And has been for a long, long time.

And it is a missing piece, a hole in my heart that is waiting to be filled, and that can’t be filled with anything else. It will not make me whole, people and life are far more complicated than that, but it is a missing piece that doesn’t go away just because I ignore it. At times I am more successful at denial, but not at the moment. For some reason, I keep coming back to it, which probably means that there is something to learn, to prepare, to change – to open myself for. Could this be what I’ve felt/seen – is it finally time soon?

At the moment, I feel probably as far from relationships and dating as I ever have, and romantically it is dark. The darkest night, the new moon. But it is in the darkest night that light is reborn. Or in the darkness of the eclipse, the split second before light returns. So maybe it’s time to bring out the shades and open my heart again. In spite of my fears, I pray that I will keep the doors of my heart open.

Listen as a caregiver

Listening and understanding is a form of caregiving. Every form of caregiving is an expression of love. Whether the caregiving occurs in the form of attending to babies and young children, the lonely, the elderly, the frail and the dying, or simply caring for the person who next walks in through the front door, each act of caring is an act of loving.

We know that caring does much to sustain everyday life. They hold the key to understanding how to live together well.

The gift of our complete and focused attention is one of the kindest gifts we can give one another. It confers on both giver and receiver a sense of meaning and value. We find that when we focus our attention on another, they become more real for us, the relationship becomes more meaningful, and we become naturally more compassionate.

The solidity of our sense of “I”, obscuring our heart of compassion, begins to dissolve and the “other” becomes our central focus. If we take a moment to think about it, among the more precious moments in our life are those times when we have felt most deeply understood by another human being.

With attention, we feel heard, seen and understood. We are nurtured in the gift of another’s attention. Giving the gift of our attention with the spirit of a caregiver, is to give the greatest gift of all – the gift of skilled listening.

Practise: The next time you are in dialogue with someone, focus on the other person with all your senses. How does the gift of your attention seem to affect the other person?

Review:

If you don’t know how to fix it, stop breaking it

You’ve got to be inspired by any child who dares do this, when so many adults keep quiet.

This video is from the UN Earth Summit in Brazil 1992. The speaker in this video is the then 12-year-old Canadian girl Severn Cullis-Suzuki.

I am only a child. Yet I know that if all the money spent on war was spent on ending poverty and finding environmental answers, what a wonderful place this would be. In school you teach us not to fight with others, to work things out, to respect others, to clean up our mess, not to hurt other creatures, to share, not be greedy. Then why do you go out and do the things you tell us not to do? You grownups say you love us, but I challenge you, please, to make your actions reflect your words.

1992. 16 years ago and every single word is just as valid today. Really, nothing has changed. Growing awareness over environmental issues, a much bigger climate change with far worse effects, and yet… nothing has changed. For all the nice words, politicians have done precious little apart from talking.

10 years after the Rio Earth Summit, Severn Cullis-Suzuki wrote a piece in Time Magazine, no longer a child but a young adult, who had learned that the world is a lot more complicated than it looks as a child. But complicated does not mean impossible.

Real environmental change depends on us. We can’t wait for our leaders. We have to focus on what our own responsibilities are and how we can make the change happen.
…
[I]n the 10 years since Rio, I have learned that addressing our leaders is not enough. As Gandhi said many years ago, “We must become the change we want to see.” I know change is possible, because I am changing, still figuring out what I think. I am still deciding how to live my life. The challenges are great, but if we accept individual responsibility and make sustainable choices, we will rise to the challenges, and we will become part of the positive tide of change.

In three weeks, the United Nations Climate Change Conference 2009 (COP15) starts in Copenhagen. It is already a disappointment. It is already clear that the summit cannot lead to a binding treaty. Instead, it can be at the most the first step to such a treaty. World leaders are still stalling.

It is still unclear whether President Obama will attend the summit, even though he will most likely be in Northern Europe  for the Nobel Peace Price ceremony on the 10th of December. I cannot think of any reason for him not to attend the COP15.

Last week, November 10, he said to Reuters (from Telegraph.co.uk) : “If I am confident that all of the countries involved are bargaining in good faith and we are on the brink of a meaningful agreement and my presence in Copenhagen will make a difference in tipping us over edge then certainly that’s something that I will do” Well, after the weekend’s clear message that there can be no binding treaty from the COP15, this still remains to be seen.

I refuse to give up hope in our ability to change our ways and work for the environment instead of as against it, but I know this: We cannot wait for leaders and legislation. We cannot wait for politicians to tell us to change. We have to be the change. “We must become the change we want to see.”

There is no flow here
No way out
Like a pool of stagnant water
Blackened putrefaction
Being stirred
But there is no flow here
Stasis in darkness

Darkness closing in
Sqeezing tighter
A dark entrapment, cold embrace
Powerless and immobile
In a dark shell
There is no way out here
Mother of pearl

Or is the dark shell a chrysalis?
When a moonbeam penetrates the black water
Will I find the key to my power
Like the Phoenix rise from darkness
Spread my wings in freedom
And soar to the sky

Some men have thousands of reasons why they cannot do what they want to, when all they need is one reason why they can.