My whole life I have been in an inner fight.
I was too loud, too big, too fat, too sensitive, “you can’t be part of this pack with all those emotions, I heard. Said sarcastically in the there this did become my truth.
The constant reaching for achievements to justify my belonging.
The learnt goal-oriented way.
The tempo of getting stuff done making me joggle several balls in the air far faster than I can even imagine possible in hindsight.
Was this a way to feel part of the pack all along?
The baddassery of getting stuff done – the sensation of I got this. The fulfilling feeling of crossing yes done! off the list. It was an amazing sense of accomplishment and yet it took so much effort. I was exhausted.
And I let go of everything.
I gifted myself with time and spaciousness created for the newness to bloom, for play rather than work, for letting rather than getting. Dedicated to leading with pleasure and playfulness in the most non-linear creativity I ever experienced I unlearned and weaved myself free of the known.
A day not long ago I went home to where I grew up.
I felt the clay of the soil in which I grew up under me, I had no idea I missed it.
I had not heard the longing for homecoming until I was home.
I sat at the shore of the fjord seeing the sunset and realized I had traveled the world marvelling in breathtaking sunsets while all along right there down the hill from my childhood home there it was in its red, purple and orange greatness.
Asked a few months back “what do you really desire” I boldly stepped into responding expecting to swiftly list several answers to this simple question… and I was stuck.
I did not know. What did I really desire? I remember wondering am I loosing it, going nuts just here in a meeting in zoom? My mind, heart, belly scattered in all directions.
Far from what I desired I had run faster than I could follow and the fear of not finding my way back broke me open. I was on my knees and at a point of not even caring anymore.
Through the excavation of filters, constructs, limiting beliefs and the habitual go tos, all came to surface and I met them heart first in their unwrapping.
It was me in my own way. I was coming home.
A chosen path of effortlessness took me to the most uncomfortable, painful, beastie darkness within. The degree of fear for survival, of money, of not fitting in, being outside the pack, all dissolved the day I gave in and let it all die for the new to be birthed – the desires in their bright delight was unfolding within the darkness.
It was love in disguise.
I was awakening.
I had forgotten me and was taking Remembership.
The desire watered for years – freedom – hello!
A prayer answered finding me at a slow enough pace to receive it.
My story now goes from being mine to everyone’s
It came out of hiding behind the battle, the white knuckles of tightly gripping for now being able to surrender into desires.
May we keep giving ourselves permission to re-write our story and lovingly receive those of others gifted to us.
Please feel free to share your story below. Which desires are singing in your chest wishing to be experienced?
I am easy to reach.
Just write me.
a wild writing by Camilla
She who ravels open. Allows the cracking of her every cell.
The breaking, a feeling almost not to bear.
She relax open. Awakens to all that was always there, ripening, hiding – fought in a battle she could not win. A fight that was not anyone else’s but hers.
She broke open, her heart overflew with the dark blood of her heartbreak, the acid of her self-disgust, the heat of her disappointment.
She who layed there. Knew she was about to wake, break, shake, to let not get.
She who had feared change and wanting to contain a power, a force not possible of controlling.
She who now knew.
Knew that today and every day she was to open, allow, make love to every petal of not enoughness, fear, doubt, self critic.
She who now looked at the world as the ever-widening partner of a dance she was here to participate in, fully!
She who did not care how it looked any longer.
She had so much to give but had forgotten the feast of love given to her. She who did not see the love. She who was blinded.
She was about to burst into tears when finally love did show up on her doorstep.
She, in a constant feeling of there was more. A yearning for opening, for being taken, loved open and be the never-ending moreness of opening for the ocean to fill her.
She who sits dreaming about what to have.
She who when it exists in her internal world create, speak, live share herself from behind the walls of fear of not feeling as good as or too much if…
She who learned to hide the real truth. She who can dance furiously and when in the presence of others would be the dimmed version, the adapted outfit, the more adequate one.
She who has broken open to love. Making love with life while falling in love with each and every single moment. She who made breath her lover.
She who can lay for hours until her inspiration leads her to the next moment.
She who rules her world solely through, by and as the love that runs through her.
She who is about to let you in – the truth about her, you get when you invite it.
Invite her in and she will open and as she is in opening so will you.
She will let you know, see and be the light that you are.
She who dares to break her own heart open to have life be lived through her.
She who gives permission to it all pleasure fear, love, joy, doubt.
She who knows that there is nothing for her to do, but all for her to be.
She who is now ready to be seen, ready to be heard, ready to empty onto the page in her raw directed openness.