Letting love in,

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.

Coming home
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.

with-in love,
Camilla 🌳

She who
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.

Leading with pleasure

A couple of years back when I led a six month Mastering of Self training I arrived in one of the last modules sharing the experience of our two strongest energies creativity and sexuality having home in the same place of the body, nevertheless experienced in mine as separate. The merging of the two, the leaning and breathing into this new to me rich space of re-union awoke such a curiosity in me. Somehow our most powerful force with and through which all our passions, ideas, wishes and dreams are set in motion with whatever we engage with somehow had been split in two within me.
That day something got lit in me.

I remember one of the participants with light and excitement in her eyes asking “are we going to learn that today?”. I smiled and said “give me some years and I will be back once I have had the unfolding move through”. I am not making any promises that 40 something year old patterns can be unlearned in a weekend and yet, I am in full knowing that we without any doubt do have the ability to change in an instant. The habitual patterns of “am I worthy of this”, “that can’t be enough”, “this is too easy”, “I gotta do more” – the well-known to us work hard(er) dissolving is the dance I experience takes time.

Now in what feels like a life time ago since that weekend in the training I am awakening. Awakening to me.
I watered the seeds I planted that day.
I had to run faster than I could follow. I had my feet swept away under me falling deeply in love.
I had to re-find my footing and let go of all that I thought I knew my desires to be.
It was about allowing myself to receive love, to take love in.
It was me opening for the love to myself.
In opening all discomforts far beyond what I could ever imagine surfaced.
It has been shedding light on my shame. It was my fears and beasty stuff coming to dance. I was ready to surrender entirely, to dissolve limiting beliefs, to let go of the stories of who I thought I was to be and to release the constructs in my way to fully being the havingness of my desires.
It was allowing myself to receive the never ending moreness of all already present, here, now.

For years change has been something dangerous associated with some kind of loss. Wealth equaling sacrifice of what is dear to me – all seeds planted far back as a young teenager when deciding to shut down, toughen up, saying ok, it is me against the world now.
Years of self inter(fear)ence.

Not long ago in this unraveling I looked at my bank account – one thing always accompanied with a tension in my body – the number less than ever and it was then I knew everything had changed.
My desire for experiencing my limitless abundance had just come into physicality. I felt it and I knew that from now on my creations would come from a new place in me.
The yes to love, the allowing myself to receive, the opening to what is actually happening – years of what I have been teaching landing in a subtle, calm, open field unattached to where to next….

Eventhough it is a fumbling to the bliss of leading with pleasure. Playing rather than doing. Relaxing rather than forcing. Letting rather than getting, they all just has so much more juice to them.
In the journey of questions and answers I am feeling inspirations coming into form through me rather than created by me.

Am I frustrated in this new way of leading? Yes, it is a new to me skill.
Do I loose my footing and get caught in the not doing enoughness? Yes, I an old part of me want stuff done – preferably yesterday!
Is it comfortable when a old belief or self talk arrives? No, but I know it is love in disguise. It is me in my own way and it is part of the art of enhanced listening to the true inspirations in whatever wrapping they appear.

It has been absolutely great to be in full on “by me” mode. I would find my contentment in achievements and the more I got done, the more my inner gaging of good day or bad day would be in action.
I am not saying that one is better than the other, but the feeling of overwhelm, exhaustion, struggle having me touched to tears in writing these lines enhances my yes-ness in knowing that there is so much more for you and I to awaken free of learnt lessons, ways and stories that have gotten to be our truth.
Following the path of effortlessness that got lit that day years back in the training in union with the day not that long ago calmly experiencing that old fears had dissolved makes me curious for the never-ending moreness of letting the path come to me as I land my foot.


Starting close in
These times have had us all come to a threshold of a reset, re-viewing and invitating us to rewrite the story of “supposed to be”. If you as I find this moment ripe ask yourself this with me:

What do I desire to experience? Which seeds am I watering?
Where do I not give myself permission, hold myself back?

An invitation of letting answers come and be with the questions that are there.

In the beginning the unravelling of desires was not at all easy for me but the more I open the easier it gets.
It began when giving myself permission to love. The habitual struggling, the doubting where to next, the feeling of too much or too little just to mention a few – I made an agreement to love them as well.
Frankly, the bad ass toughing up, tightening my buttocks and getting shit done, I know her very well.
Giving up, why even bother. Who wants to hear my story. This ain’t important. Snap out of your self-absorbency will you – all burps from the beast coming along for the ride.

Being felt, heard and seen is a need of belonging in all of us I believe. My experience is the more raw, real and unraveled we show ourselves, daring to make our desires come visible the more an inspiration we are to the world.
How often do we negotiate with the somatic response from our bodies – that feeling of an instant “uhhu” or “nah’ah”? Almost as slapping our inspiration in the face saying “Not now dear true inspiration, I am busy doing something else….

What if we followed the appetite and an amazing journey where desired experiences are unfolding for us one moment after the other effortlessly?
I am very curious to hear what is emerging in you as you read these musings? What wants to come along for the ride? Which of your desires emerged? Was it a I am not worthy of getting that? I can’t ask for that? Or…?

Please feel free to comment below and your words of wisdom will all be part of the desire to have the bundle of the course I am playing into form, Embodied Permission ~ pleasure, permission.
In class last weekend my dear teacher Kathy Altman said: “Pointing your arrow to where it feels good is an act of love”.
This one landed so well in my journey and may be one for you to take into your day.

I also heard the art of love is taking love in. So hear this is my love and what I know.
You and I are limitless human beings being human, our playful, pleasurable journey of experiencing our desires – tangible and intangible – coming into form takes no effort only for you and I to allow, to open and to let it.
I desire to see us in our full potency of living, loving, leading with pleasure, full permission and play.
Your story matters and your voice is so needed in this world.
Know that there are much more than what our minds can perceive right now.
May your imprint in the fertile soil of Mother Earth be with soft soles of your feet listening as we ask “where to next.”

in love,
Camilla

Hold still and listen.
The faint and distant rhythm that is your own and follow and follow and follow
Until you recognize yourself in your step.
Settle into your own relieved body and follow and follow and follow
Until you know yourself once more and remember
Until you vow to yourself to never get lost again
That with each adventure out into the world
you will come home to yourself and rest.
Jane Pujji

Following ourselves home

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There I was in love. I had fallen. I had allowed myself to fall…. it was a listening journey. A journey in a world of change where the big pause button had been pressed by mother nature.
A needed pause, an about time for us all to stop and listen and hear what really matters. A pause causing so much fear collectively and yet I loved it. I loved the needing to stay in place doing no thing, reorienting myself, the main purpose being love. Being loved, sharing love, talking love and holding love – most importantly finding my self love. Maybe the exact time we all have been preparing for. Fear on high volume, boundaries of how to feel safe and for all of us an unvoluntary vulnerable jump into the river of the unknown. Trust stood its test and the need to show up to what was happening on the inside threw its doors wide open. The raw truth of who we are when normalities and what we might had taken for granted was taken away.
The listening to our body’s lead enhanced with the knowing that only we – you and I – could adjust, unlearn to re-learn in the adaptations needed when the cosy confines of opportunities to seek pleasure, entertainment, connection no longer there…. only Mother Nature in all her spring time beauty as our best teacher in sustaining our joy more silent than ever calling us all back home.

I loved it.
Landing in the middle of the wilderness of Northern California she called me back home and even though a pandemic was not what I was planning on for my three month stay in the mecca of conscious movement, it turned out to be exactly what was needed to find love – self love to follow myself home.
A grief deeper than deep accompanied me when this luscious adventure was coming to an end. A grief of having to leave the land that made me feel more home than ever before, leaving the god of a man who had taught me about the woman I like to be, the grief of going home to the known.
I realised I thrive in the unknown. Old fears became uncharged almost worthless in my inner landscape of worry land. The unknown presented itself as a beasty bastard at times and yet a gift to finally to let it go, I mean really let it all go. Let go of every single story and illusion of how things should be looking – a complete let go of myself and my passion to what I do.

One day in the magical meadow the grief showed its deeper meaning – actually I was grieving the ending of a shut down world. The expectations most of all the ones towards myself, the what’s next, questions not even ready to be heard arose. The world had changed and so had I forever. I was on a three month quest to go with effortlessness and it was coming to an end. With the world opening up again changes still unpolished old habits of self judgement surfaced and it wasn’t pretty.

When finally having my visa extended my entire body was feeling a degree and depth of relaxation like never felt before. The last weekend to be in this land of home I marvelled in natural time in relating with the man I had fallen for honouring him for his strength, his truth and devotional commitment to himself. I bowed for the dance of dialogue we shared non-stop for 2 months. My stay was coming to an end, ease was swirling in every cell of my body and everything felt like solidly landed…. at least that is what I thought.

We layed on the bed him reading out loud to me and in the mirror in front of me I saw my naked body. What I saw was the direct opposite of what I had seen and been seen with for months. My self hatred and disgust came, and it came with volume fully amped up. My body shut down and the words of the very interesting book he read out loud (one of my favourite things in the world by the way) was not enterring my body, I could not hear anything. I was deafened by my own inner voice beating me up for being fat, ugly, digusting laying there with all that skin in big folds. Laying next to a honk of a man, did he even like how I looked? He probably just did me for the amazing conscious love making we experienced, my size being a turn-off. He came to the end of the chapter and started talking about the last part he read. I was still in shut down not even hearing what he said.
My body was burning. My belly tightening, an acidic sensation ran up my heart and the inside of my throat thick. I managed to find the courage to open my mouth and share what was going on. There I lay still naked sharing my deepest wound of all and he received it.
He began talking about himself and his own experiences of hating himself. I did not listen, I still could not hear. I was way too busy to tend to what was going on in and under my skin. He wished to understand the disgust I felt. He wanted to let me know he did love my body but nothing, absolutely nothing was getting in. I only heard the parts and words fitting my story of him turned on by thin, long, lean bodies as far away from how I am carved out. I told him how my listening happened through the eye of a needle and whatever he would say, I was not able to receive.
All that I had experienced of luscious, sexiness and bodily freedom just died right there in an instant! I was all closed and could only do one thing, surrender.
The quest I was on when coming here for three months had one more stone to turn – the need to work with the disgust and shame I had with my body not for me to carry in this life time. Of course it needed to appear in my last week here. I was caught by surprise of how self hate that had not been on the menu the last months – the quite opposite in fact – and here it was was served as dessert, a deep talk and sweetly snuggled up drifting into sleep.

And that was not the end of it!
The following morning I woke up from a dream of being in a room with him having sex with a beautiful woman thin, tight skin, flat bellied her carried by him, her legs around his waist, them having amazing sex. I could not get out, I wanted to but I was obligated to see them in their ecstasy doing things him and I could not – one thing is for sure this girl dancer is too heavy to be swung around like that….
I woke up with the images not wanting to leave my head. After dancing for an hour I was doing my best to create some kind of spaciousness in belly and head. The images of them, the self hating image of myself, the words he had said – especially the ones not said – was pounding loud and fast in my body.

Mother Nature was calling me home and I went to the field. I called a dear friend. She lovingly listened, gave no advice, just nodding and let me know how much she loved my fleshy belly. After emptying the overload of words and emotions I could open myself up for space again and so I did…. in wide format.
In the following meditation a tree with a red stem and strong, shiny, green leaves grew out my heart. I opened my eyes. I saw the blue between the leaves of the tree more than the tree itself landing in a place of surrender and gratitude to what had been shown to me. My self hatred that had been stead asleep and needing to surface to be seen and nourished and it had nothing to do with him, I knew that all along.

Right there in the knee high grass of the meadow I saw “the what’s next”. In all its colours, shapes, ways and qualities I had gotten to experience what so many of us long for. Daring to feel the uncomfortable, have the tough conversations, be vulnerable when hiding away was the easiest. Him the honk my teacher, I the listener to a sleeping beast within me. The dance communion that always had freaked me out – when intimately relating in particular – and there in a pandemic far away from home I was forced to be with what was appearing from the silence. Being seen 24/7 and no where to run. I met myself at the edge and fell over to discover a creativity long not felt. I was ready to come up for air. “You learned your lesson, now make it a teaching” was the message.

What was in my way was the way.
I got to experience how the song we play to ourselves has a direct effect on our ability to show up to what is actually happening and on what we bring to the relational dance with an other.
I showed up to and with what was happening in me. Painful truths were shared with a grace and clarity without making the other wrong.
Is that not what life is all about?
Is that what we all longed for before we were asked to stay at home? To see and be seen in our true selves, connected, loved and held for whatever bullshit coming up?
What an amazing opportunity given to make us feel more, do less and be true.
If this real living is what a forced shelter in place a wondrous gap taking us all out of the normal brings, I vow myself to show up for the presumed second wave’s teachings heart first. I call it following ourselves home…..