Maybe it is
That I am a Sunday blood woman today
Maybe it is
That I awoke at 6.39am this morning
Despite no alarm
And every other morning since
Getting home from Cape Town
I have not been able to push myself up at 7.30
Despite an alarm
Doesn’t that say something
That if you let the flow know for you
You let the flow flow what it knows
Then you will be up at whatever time you body needs
Ruins what can be natural
What can be a Sunday flow
Maybe that is
How every day could go
Flow, know, flow, and go
Sunday used to be the day before Monday
Now Sunday is just a Sunday
And I am by myself
Messy haired in a bed where I’ll sleep
For two more weeks
23 years old on the 23rd of April
Smelling of peppermint and rosa damascena because those are my decent smells
My Sunday smells
I am in a house not necessarily called home
But I am home
In my body
Thank you, woman body,
Flowing with tide
Blood of potential life
I am grateful to even the pain
Where’s my mind
Between the lines
I’m just fine
This Sunday Sunday
Hi friends, below is a message for justice.
It’s time for humans to wake up, and mother earth shows that when she quakes up and storms over all the time now. It is time for us to join her beat. Rhythm of love can sometimes be thunderous when it is for a good cause. Let’s beat these love drums so flippin hard for justice for all beings of nature.
Right now many thousands of horses have been and are being slaughtered in the US for a while. For too long. One horse killed is too long. There’s this one chic doing something about it over at Wild One Tour. About her campaign she says “Wild One Campaign:
– The journey will take me and a small team two months from Los Angeles to Palomino Valley, where 50,000 horses are confined in 3% of their allowed space.
– I will document the entire journey on social media urging everyone to spread the message and will perform at several venues raising awareness and funds for the campaign.”
We also had the sacred lands of the Native Americans stolen recently over at Standing Rock. They say colonialism like it’s an antique concept? Pffft. They say they wanna make America great again? Then you might wanna settle peace on your own land before you go and bomb somewhere else (cause bombs are such a great peace tool in the first place).
It’s absurd and idiotic and corporate bullshit… We need to take our voices back as individuals and societies in our western world.
Being a rider and horsewoman myself I could say a lot about why they are the most beautiful animals on earth. However, I won’t at this stage as they are living breathing animals and that should be enough of a reason.
Love ALWAYS wins in the end. The question is how long we wanna wait until that happens, and what we lose in the process.
Photo by Hannah Ehn Salter, of me.
Listen and spirit speaks
Free wolf woman
Going through these 2017 spring days lately, some of them deeply tired, anxious or stressed, spirit has spoken to me louder than ever before. Literally stops me through all kinds of signs. Perhaps also, because I am learning to listen better. Giving up my need to express for a moment so that I can hear. From within and without, in nature or in heart, through different emotions, thoughts, or intuitions, from trees or clouds or cats or the wind, she is speaking,
ENOUGH (growling wild wolf).
Stop moving against the FLOW.
Or, STOP MOVING at all.
Or RUN FREE, RUN WILD, LET YOUR BODY MOVE.
Whatever I am resisting comes up as a mirror, often immediately as if to give me a direct opportunity to rewrite that action, the script, before I have had time to finish it fully. Before I set it into an unhealthy habitual pattern. It used to be more subtle before and not as obvious, but now I feel so close to her, to him, to her and him in myself, to spirit.
One thing lately is me stressing out over my different identity, or identities.
What versions of myself will I feed next? Feminine, masculine, the nurturing or action taking? Where will I go this fall to study, and what, the arts or the sciences? How, who, the hell AM I, really? Where do my person, persona, baggage begin and where do those of the people around me begin? Isn’t it then, my responsibility to take care of myself first and foremost, as it is for them? Then I choose to let go of the guilt felt when others demand my energy in ways I should not, cannot, and don’t want to give. When I have finished that step I can donate. When I am in balance there is no drainage of energy and spirit can give freely, I can give plenty to both myself and the people around me.
Back to who the heavenly hell I am: The answer is: everything. Soulful spirit is too rich to decide just one city to live in all her life, just one season to enjoy. She says I am meant to walk with all elements, in balance, shifting in phases when time says so. There are five elemental flowers in front of me; one blue water, one red fire, one white air, one fluorescent cosmos and one green earth flower. And I choose to water them one at a time. Sometimes, however… Storms will wash and blow over all simultaneously. The old twigs and leaves and petals are washed away, and regrown. Sometimes a forest fire sweeps by. The ground may shake when mother earth needs a stretch. When needed, cosmic spirit gives life or takes a flower soul back home. Both are a blessing. Both are in right time. Both are rebirth of different kinds.
A sum: relax, nothing’s in control. You are where you need to be. You are meant for all things that serve your heart, your lust, your life.
When it is just me, when I have been alone for a while, it’s like I know inherently what I need, without having to speak about it. Or rather the speaking is the silent and certain doing, dreaming, moving, step by step in line with myself. This doesn’t mean easy but it means true.
When it isn’t, when I put myself out of my heart’s path and am influenced for better or worse by the stressed out me, by people, situations, organisations, and other powers – especially for a longer time – it takes a good while for me to know myself again, as I am, without the noise.
Now has been one of those awakening times again. Reborn again into a new version of myself, I thank the anger within me that reminds me when it is enough. I thank the rumbling mother, growling wolf, hissing snake within that shakes my bones. It is a healthy anger. It is a nurturing anger. It is a life forcing anger, not a death producing one. It is one that says, STOP! LIVE! BREATHE AS FULLY AS YOU DESERVE! DO NOT LIVE WHERE YOUR HEART DOESN’T BREATHE THIS FULLY! AHO AHO AHO
Whether or not you’re into alcohol make sure to drink every last droplet of the wine that is your life. Set yourself free of mental limitations sweet one, break the rules that hold your heart n body back & create your own reality. Hands to mouth and chant as loud as you can; awo-wo-wo-ho #modernpocahontas #wildchild #alwaysrisinguptospirit #neverbackingdown #warrioress #fuckya
A lot of self love, and lack of it, is coming up last few weeks.
On some kind of an edge.
The signs my unconscious have been waiting for arriving – but all happening at once, it seems, almost too quickly to comprehend.
Been wanting to make sense, write, accomplish, but hopes on myself not in tune with the reality seeming to speed by.
Bitter sweetness, great mental emotional challenge, and assuring laughter being felt from within. My compass, gently and briskly nudging me in the direction I seek when I ask or forget to. And that’s the thing, I ask now when before I didn’t even know there was anyone or thing to ask. I have started believing in myself and the inherent intuition. Angels, call it what you will. Maybe not fully trusting yet, but at least I now believe in the full possibility of myself blooming fully and I am growing. Because I am human, because I am spirit, and because I am here – so f*in’ worthy. Day by day, somehow, I will see my flower expanding more in colour and potency.
I have had to remind myself however, that blooming doesn’t happen overnight. Some words;
Ha ej så bråttom att blomma
Are you rushing to bloom?
What a paradox.
Blooming takes soil, watered by rain, collected by oceans, that have traveled only to kiss your feet.
Blooming takes a seed perfectly imperfect, growing but not overnight, meeting both challenges + fruition and slowly developing in fullness
My dear child if you are rushing to bloom
It is because
In your souls soil are memories of having been different flowers many times before
Red blue and yellow,
Forest side and ocean bound,
In mountain cold and desert heat
So be kind
It’s not strange you are deeply longing for something you can’t describe;
It’s in fact the longing for completion
Wholeness of yourself – all reflections, versions of yourself –
Its a mirage –
thinking we think we can define ourselves here and now to one single thing –
You already are everything
Everything you are
Is more than you can fathom
So you might as well relax into the expansion of it
In great, badass kindness
Be unafraid of your potential
Let the rest fall away
Let the rest… fade
Having a man bun does not automatically make you sexy
The fire in your sexuality has little to do with the appearance of your ass
Going camping once doesn’t qualify you as a natural woman
And smoking does not make you cool
Your free spiritedness is not solely or possibly at all determined by that Spiritual Gangster top you are wearing,
Or the quality of your instagram handstands –
Just as your true connection to self is not proven through your tumblr, twitter or whatever-else-there-fricken-is-nowadays-account –
Your worth grounds very physically in the
Acceptance of your eyes
Purity of your voice
Generosity of your arms
& the real kindness of your heart
It lives in the ethics of your flesh
Badass integrity of your bones
Raw intuition of your feet
And the deep strength of your gratitude
( – that is the first muscle you should train)
This is what makes you truly sexy, natural, cool, wild and free…