This is from chapter “Snake” in When fear Comes Home to Love.”

Forgiveness – exercise

1) Visualize yourself as a child, and ask your inner Guide to lead you to a situation where you sensed your parents’ fear and chaos in the air, and your body instantly reacted to that and identified with it. Try to find the moment where you internalized the craziness, and made it your fault that your parents behaved crazy and scary.

Now JUST LET IT BE THERE IN THE BODY. Breathe kindly around the sensations, if there are voices just let go of them, you are resting in God this very moment when you say yes to what is there in your mind and nervous system. There is nothing more to do – just rest with whatever presents itself.

Another variation: If you are one of many who need a bit of help to release stuck energies from hidden pockets in the energy-system, I suggest you go to an EFT-site and download a free manual of the method. When you tap with your fingers on certain points in the meridian-system, while at the same time as you hold the pain or memory in your awareness, the most surprising releases may happen. It is very easy to learn the method – but may take time to truly master it. The Course reminds us that forgiveness is just looking, without judgment -and this is what you do: the tapping just removes the unnecessary charge of pain from the nervous system, while you look at the content with the Holy Spirit.”



And here is

I took a walk, and noticed

and went home and wrote  it down


Here is    breathing

and here is an enigma: in the middle of the green field, there is a deep imprint of a big wheel. Inside the imprint, small pieces of dry brittle straw and whittled leaves, while the grass around it is fresh April green. A one-wheel Big Foot.

and here is a young father and two children – red shirt, green shirt, black shirt – baseball batting practicing

and here is a young tree newly planted – inside a shining new olive-green plastic sack. Label: “TREEGATOR: water like a pro. Fill the sack with water and walk away.”  I have no water.I walk away

and here is a small area of the field that has been ravaged by tractors: wet red soil, like the torn belly of a slaughtered whale, having fought and trashed for its life

and here is a shiny white piece of an ice-cream cone wrapping paper

and here are three lads on bikes, 8-9 years old, with helmets in silver, red and blue, crossing each others’ tracks as they weave a playful pattern in the green field, their voices like crisp bird cries

and here is a swarm of tiny insects flying in certain patterns in a confined space, weaving it together, following  a secret blueprint

and here is the delicate crispy sound of my new red shoes on the new gravel path across the old field

and here are two big boulders framing the path, preventing cars driving here – and two much smaller stones between them, easy to lift away

and here is a rotten rest of a tree root. The fibers already falling apart, inviting Forget-me-nots to put down new roots

and here is a forgotten lid to a paint box from last summer. Half of it covered with faded white dandelions and dead  brown leaves. A tiny shiny spot of orange shines through the shiny black-brown paint

and here is ONE open yellow lily in an ocean of buds. Its stamen points away from the sun

and here is breathing

Self concept

Just a moment ago I saw a face in the paper that made my skin crawl. I realized that this is NOT the reaction and energy I feel good with – and prayed with all my heart to see him with Love.

Instantly I knew that I had seen him through the filters of my self-concept the made-up image of myself. BUT I WAS NOT THIS CONCEPT.I CANNOT BE A CONCEPT. Instantly a rush of energy poured out of me:  the forbidden, “bad” and “ugly” and “not-nice-girl” energies and feelings erupted.Lava-rivers of anger and disgust and hatred. My left eye felt like exploding, and I did not take any of the sensations seriously – they belonged to a made-up-role and concept that I unconsciously had consented to “be”, but that had nothing to do with my true identity as Gods Holy Son.

It was a true pleasure to allow all this venom and judgments and fears – and all the energies they had held in place, as long as I insisted they were “me” and therefore were seen as valuable and had to be protected.

I looked at that guy again in the paper, and now there were only a faint displeasure -I welcomed it fully, breathed with full awareness the whole time, and it dissipated.

How important words are for me-I have to find the exact word to be helped. See through the “me” did not change much for me – seeing the “me” as a self concept made all the difference.

How meticulously the child builds this treasured self concept: from parents’ expectations and things they tell us that we are, and how we should behave – and what is important as they see it – the praise and violence we receive to adjust to those expectations create always new filters in this marvelous ego formation we build up – this conglomerate of filters we look at our world through to make it inhabitable for us – and to make it make sense, due to our filters.

As I now rest happily in this huge release in my energy system, I give myself a warm hug and tell myself “I love and accept myself just as I am, this moment.”

And who might this “me” be, that I embrace?

The parts of me that choose to believe in certain thoughts and learned to maneuver through life through this maze of perceived rules – and that because of that, have valuable experiences of what makes us happy, and what does not – and also have found That which embraces it eternally.

My life has given me exquisite knowledge of the collective forces and archetypes that are humanity’s strongest influences – which I describe in my book, “When Fear Comes Home to Love”.

And from this limited concept of a “me”, i make up the concept of a punishing wrathful god- and as long as i don’t question the filters i see God with, the world will go its crazy ways,and the darkness in our soul will be seen acted out by “others.”

And as I see that God is Love – seen through the Heart we all share –

– and that I are created in ITS essence – not through the filters of conditioning –

– I can marvel at the process of softly and often not so softly unravel the process back to zero –

– and smiling at it all


I wrote this little poem yesterday:


My soul burst out in butterflies today
and then delivered me from all those lies
I was cocooned in, holding me grotesquely sway
in bitterness and blame, and opening blue skies
instead, oh, breathing out the sweetest prayer –

dear Love, I see that beauty never dies

I flew and watched and found my wings so versatile
I had become the very substance of God’s smile

Take care of yourself

Practicing “The Untethered Soul”-way  has flowed easily and with grace. It has been simple to experience my Self as the Observer, the Witness – and not getting involved in whatever the mind presents. I love Singer’s way of describing the practice – he tells us to watch us watch, and not get involved in what we watch – “don’t play with it” he says, and this sentence is written in gold for me.

I have needed to make an important distinction – when to play/engage in stories and form and when NOT.

As artist  and therapist embracing  all art modalities,  I know that all CAN be played with. That is what “Healing Crisis – 108 ways to turn crises into possibilities” is all about. You may read more about that work on this blog, where I present the 4 books I am in the process of self-publishing.

What I discover with Singer’s process is that as soon as darkness wells up, just as energy, I can relax physically and intentionally let it go. That has worked phenomenally for a couple of days. I have found that if I get the impulse to paint or dance or writes stories/poems to deal with the pain, that is excellent – it is fun! and effective! -But sometimes it is simpler just to release it. What becomes clear is that my Self wants me to enjoy the process and not “work” at it.

So yesterday it was just impossible to stay in the watcher-position. I wrote this poem instead –  being conscious that I want the underlying message to come through: the art of  hiding any outer signs of protest or distress, so the facade seems completely flawless. You find it in all families where the demon of perfection is a member.



My mother has sewed a national costume for me.I wear an embroidered bonnet on my blond hair, and  a white cotton blouse with wide sleeves under the embroidered costume.

She has sewed at night to finish it in time for my performance .She has even made one for my doll Anne too.

Anne belongs to me

I am a clever and talented little girl: I make poems and melodies and perform them from a stage at my school closure, accompanying myself on a little accordion. My parents sit very close to me. They will let me know every error I made afterwards. This is love.

Under the dress, allergic itching boils cover all of the body – except for my face and hands which is visible.

Afterwards my father tells me that I should have sung with more feeling.

So I accepted where I was and took care of myself as best I could. And had a wondrous dream:

I am visiting a School for Teachers. I am there to teach – the old technique my husband had taught me on how to create puppets,  more than 100 years old. When I entered the infinite corridor of the school, where discoveries and observation and play was happening everywhere – (no blackboards) I felt hilarious with joy. And I decided that I would happily leave my old tradition.

I visited many classrooms, and everywhere I felt  the same joy of exploration and inclusion. Nobody – absolutely nobody were excluded in the creative process, and it was a matter of course that everyone’s input was invaluable. This created an exquisite feeling of unity and joy.

Then I met a strong and exuberant man called Benner – or something like it. He had this great motor bike, and I hopped on as passenger. Complete freedom! We are now driving down a muddy slope, and before us lays the ocean. Oops  – is this safe? I decide that it is: that Benner knows what he is doing.

And there we are, flying across the water surface with immense speed. We fly so fast that the nature is starting to seem flurry – the forms dissolve and becomes light. We flow through a tunnel of this light, the beauty  and joy is indescribable.

In this school, it was demonstrated that the most joyous work came out of the structure that everybody’s inputs were valued.The Self was playing with Itself, and if a “part” of the Self had a sense of “No, not like that”, that sense belonged to the truth of the process and was just picked up  by that part. And the result was perfection – but the perfection in Self and not in  separate self, as the Doll-poem was about.





Who is dying?

Ilona at MarkedEternal and I are working. I find it difficult that terms are so different from the Course – and ego uses my confusion to resist and suffer. Ilona is calm and describes as good as she can what things mean in her description. I am in  a big mixture of exhilarating joy and dense What???? She tells me to be gentle to myself – ah! A Course-term:-)

So this below came floating up in my mind: an earlier process with “who am I:”

I wrote this 20 years ago, to a paper in my education as Expressive Arts Therapist. We were given the assignment to write 10 “book-reports” in a creative expressive way. I reviewed Stephen Levine’s wonderful work “Who is dying” – and that led to a connection and friendship with the Levines since then that is such a gift in my life.

Here is the original aquarelle – and to save you the stress of reading it, I have written it out in a linear way.

Who is dying?
who lives and suffers and cries in pain?
Leelah is in pain
who is Leelah?
Leelah is a teacher -a mother – a healer an artist
(A what-ist?)
a witch – a bitch – a madonna – a whore
who says this? who writes?
who wants this to be beautiful?
a voice in me –
who is me –
who is listening to what is writing –
who is writing what?
what is writing who?
who is what is who really is –
who is confused now –
who says this
who is blocked now
who is judging this block as BAD
Leelah is.
  Leelah is.
Who is Leelah?
Leelahis a seeker
A lover
A lover
Who is loving Leelah?
Who is Leelah loving?
Love is who-ing Leelah
Who is love?
Who is writing?
Who is here – witnessing
smiling –
who is seeing the smile
who is who is who is


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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