I am wrong

In the middle of the night, while feeling crushed in a vice, both physically and psychically, I heard this, very clearly and distinctly: ” I am wrong in this.”

Meaning: everything I believe subconsciously that seems to create these sensations are not the truth.

And it all evaporated.

I love being wrong

Monsters demasked

I am dreading talking to Kit about her not supporting my book at the publishing-webside.  I feel this sinking feeling and desperation coming – clearly an old taboo-monster lurking. So I ask Blue to give me the words I need.

It feels like a curtain is drawn away and light comes in. Trust is here. I know I can look forward to our Skype session and have great expectations.

And in the session I simply show her the paranoia-monster, who is bellowing “Fuck you, Kit, why can’t you write a comment about the book, you’re my best friend” and….much more of the same:-). Neither I or kit take it seriously, both are laughing at the outburst and the energy in it. And there is no guilt at all present – and no “bad language” repressed in order to “have Love.”

I feel a great shimmering silence emanating from my mind and body.

Kit shares her wailing complaining “tired toddler-mom”-monster. She says she wishes she were more enlightened in such situations where both her toddlers fight to have his diaper changed as the first. And when asked how she would tackle it if she was enlightened, she immediately knows that she would just lie down at the floor with both of them and laugh.

So now we both laugh at our monsters trying to be important and powerful.


Dancing with shadows

The last two days has been filled with intensely unpleasant feelings concerning a situation between a writer and me. I was asked to read his text, and “something” seemed to place itself as a veil between his text and me: I saw it as dreadful. He asked me to be honest, so I tried my best to convey my impression that he might use other expressions than poetry. He answered in a way that made it clear that he had read my suggestions through a filter. And  a very paranoid one.

There was an initial shock in the nervous system – and then the insight came that this was a classroom. I have struggled with severe paranoia so many times myself in the past – and am well aware that the perception becomes completely thwarted. Also, I reminded myself that what I was seeing was my own denied paranoia projected outward – and that I had a vested interest in seeing him as crazy and paranoid, and myself as the calm and sane one.

I sensed a clear decision: enough is enough. This is an idea in the mind that comes up to be corrected. I am not responsible for the error, only for the willingness for the error to be corrected. When the decision was made, I could see the man clearer – and  see the craziness as a sign of deep held denied beliefs of being guilty and in grave danger of being hit by the wrath of God.

My heart opened wide. I saw the whole scenario as a great opportunity to forgive myself for dreaming these ideas and for using them to firmly establish separation. The willingness to have the pattern corrected was felt very strong: I was so very willing to be wrong about the perception of God as an avenger.

I was uniting with the guy in a sweet feeling of being embraced by Love. I felt gratitude for this situation coming up to be forgiven and healed.

Next morning – today – it seemed like it was seeping back again. And another part of me knows in absolute certainty that even though it does not feel like it, when I asked for help in healing this yesterday, IT WAS DONE.

Now I just need to accept the healing. And there are stages in the healing: this morning  I saw, in my astonishment, how important I had made my childhood suffering: it certainly set me apart from many others. And I could also see, in a sweet and loving way, that somehow this girl found a story to believe in that kept her alive – and also kept the wound alive.

Today, I see that I start to dis-identify from “the girl” – it is a memory connected to certain beliefs, kept alive by me identifying with them – but they have no reality. And there was this strong sadness as recognizing that I was willing to give up my need for this old “specialness:” Olympics in suffering, Gold Medal.”

I really would rather be happy. And have a great respect for the process I am being led through. Yesterday evening I saw a film about – among other things -Butoh-dancing: “Cherryblossoms.” The young Japanese girl teaches the old widower about shadow-dance: allowing our shadow to express itself through movement, instead of rotting in trivia. I was dancing this morning, a very suitable music in the background from the radio. When it ended, the announcer said: “And this was “Dancing with shadows.”

I know. It sound completely too much.

But there it is

the walk to my Father’s Chair

Very symbolic dream two nights ago.

I am in my Father’s house ( my childhood’s home.) A young Chinese – or Japanese man – a man from the polar opposite of my world suggests that I do a ceremonial walk – to demonstrate something for the people celebrating Christmas in my home. This man  may be (reminds me of) another dreamed Asian who initiated a deep change in my life towards healing in my 20-es: his name was Kindred. At that time, I was in Jungian therapy. In the dream,I had gone through the ice and was dying from cold – an apt image of my experience at that time. Then the Japanese gets me out of the hole in the ice and takes me home to him – and blows his warm breath into my frozen body and soul. He disappears – and when  i leave his house the day after, I notice his name on the door: Kindred. I know it must mean something – my dreams always bring me vital info – and discovers that it means something like “closely related /family.”

So I listen well to him now, when he tells me that I should do this walk naked.

We undress me together. It is sweet and honest and innocent and  true.

I tell him to turn of all lights, except the  wax-candles on the Christmas tree. ( I have always felt a holy Presence when I light these candles and stay and look at the lighted tree in a dark room.) It is in this light I will do the walk – down the stairs and in to the living room over to my father’s big chair.

I must be naked and transparent going Home to God

Hehe – there was a  judge present in the dream. Of course. The judge was a LEMON! He told me that this was stupid and that I was a fool.

Oh God what a dreary life you must have, mr Lemon, when you have to judge like this all your judging life. No wonder you are sour.


The sweetness of allowing the “me”

I am doing  releasing with Mary. In a blessed now I am sensing how much I want to be a “me”. There is a wondrous sweetness about it: I am not sinning, I am not guilty, I am just allowing this wanting to be felt – and allow myself to enjoy it.

The enjoyment comes from just simply having no resistance to what is. The I that has the awareness of the me is so filled with tenderness, and is taking the me SO not seriously – allowing me to not skip any steps in the process.

It seems this has been long waiting.

Now I really get what Ken means when he asks us to notice how much we don’t want to do the Course, and  forgive that.

lost and found

This night, helicopters flew over my house many times. Cars with huge lights. Soembody was searching for someone. When morning came, I read the paper – a Downs syndrome-woman had been lost in the woods since last evening.

I prayed to H.S: I don’t know what is best in this situation, and I forgive myself for believing that she/I can be lost. I see her as being found, safe and healed and happy.

Half an hour later I read in the web-paper that she was found alive and happy at approximately the time of my prayer.

Ego goes bananas of course. “I” did it!”

Nope. Me choosing peace and seeing her unharmed may very well have contributed to her being found – I have 3 notebooks filled with situations like this when “miracles” have happened as answers to prayers / choices for truth – but if so, this has to do with my choice for truth and my forgiveness for dreaming the situation of being lost.

The peace i felt when i prayed felt awesome: the power of knowing that our choice has immense power.

No more being sucked into hell

I had a Skype session with my friend Barbara – dealing with the belief, ” I need to prepare and be alert for being sucked into hell when I die.” After half an hour, something within shifted – I saw that I have a choice – that I can say ” I believe I will NOT be sucked in to hell.”

The same night I had a dream, with the old usual insanity in the form as stalkers and murderers. I wake up, sense the crazy energy within, and know in an unquestionable way that this is something I/ego made up: and I am willing to set it free. I am willing to choose to believe in Truth instead of my made-up-horror.I invite truth into the space that I have give to insanity. I am so willing to be wrong about everything that I have made. I choose to let go of those beliefs.

This feels completely  natural and true. I feel strong and present.

And when I wake up, all kinds of body-sensations are trying to trick me into believing that I am in danger, that nothing has been changed.

But it has.


The Work

Doing the Work is effective these days:

Judgment: “Having fear to alert me for lurking dangers are valuable.Otherwise, I can be tricked into horrible situations.”

Is this true? yes

Can you be absolutely sure it is true?


How does it feel to believe this thought?

I feel cold, contracted, victimized, small angry,scared.

Who would you be  without this thought?

Free, open, trusting, present, grounded, feeling safe and connected to God.


)I do not need fear to be safe. Without it, I would feel tuned into the right mind where I would naturally know what to do, how to react, when to step back – not in fear or reaction, but out of a knowing that some situations call for alertness – but this alertness would not be out of paranoia and fear, but from being awake. I would naturally be drawn to situations to join, not separate.

2)I would see clearly what was most beneficial for all parts to do.

3) Doing anything from fear brings me into wrong mind with all its consequences.


I am the projector

Big stirrings in the psyche. I am grateful for my dreams that show me what is going on.

Dream: My husband and I are packing up our summer place, we are going home. A young and handsome Indian /Pakistani man is also there, helping. LOTS of luggage –  among other things, a big freezer. This is the first symbol this night of my need to preserve things.

My husband is grumpy and sulking.I tell him I will not do this in a grumpy way. We can choose to have fun doing this. And we do!  Now there comes many others who help and laugh.We all enjoy the packing and carrying, laughing and joking. There is a great atmosphere of cooperation, everything happens easily with no stress.

In the next dream-sequence, we are all of us inside an enormous fort. I am leading us, and have to find passages through innumerable narrow labyrinths/corridors. There are waste papers everywhere – and empty plastic bags in the thousands stored in some corridors/channels.

I know exactly how to navigate: Now up through this hole – right through this narrow tube – down left here, look out for all the plastic bags, blocking the way. I start dragging the loose, and make a passage where we can crawl through. I am good leader, since I know where I am going.

Now we are gathered at the top of the Fort – and looking out down into a courtyard from older times – maybe medieval. I tell the crowd: “Under that ground have we passed.”

The plastic bags are a great symbol for “in case I need to carry something with me/hold on to it,I have what I need. I obviously think I need millions of these opportunities to store stuff. “You never know when that can come to use, dear.”

I wake up. Know that  “I” exist in so many dimensions.

Close my eyes, and a symptom is bothering me: images are flickering in front of my eyes. It is very disturbing, and one of these episodes led me to a psychiatrist last year. They always stop the flicker when I ask Jesus for help – but this time, I have clear insight:

These are images projected by my mind outside time and space. I need to go back to the projector itself – that’s where the choice lies: am I projecting from the ego-mind or from the right mind?

As soon as I realize that I am the projector, and choose  Love, the flickering stops.

It’s a book – not my body

I have discovered that what makes me so resistant to have my book published – is that I identity with it. This identity is connected to the little girl-victim-identity: I recognize now that I am equally afraid of somebody attacking the book, ridiculing it, wanting to destroy it, coming after me and destroying me, as that memory of the girl was afraid of this in her rapists.

It’s psychological understandable that I identity with my work – I think most of us do – that’s why we love medals and hate being fired. If they will judge my book and hate it, it is me they hate and judge – so it feels. But my book is not my body – although the explorations in it has been experienced through my body. But I am not my experiences. And after the morning blog here and the insights I know that what is most scary about my fears re the book’s becoming public is the stories I tell myself – that “I am that person whose job it is to be stalked and raped and punished. – And I don’t want to hold on to that belief.  I am not that story – and while I am saying that, some part of me says “you will never get rid of it.”

Truth is – writing this book has been great healing process. Others reading it and telling me that it teems with Love is a clear sign that it is NOT my body: it has come through me, which is a sign of my willingness to look at the story from a gentler place than the ego.

I wish to be free of these triggers into the story. I hope this time is a big step further. Kit shares an image: “It’s like when a  block of ice breaks off a glacier.”



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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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