What if listening is a skill?

He sits in front of me, talking, endlessly. After a while I don’t hear him, I just see the lips moving. I’ve heard this before, or almost the same, and I feel trapped. I look at him, and my thoughts are wandering ofd. I wait for my moment, and at an inhalation, I take the chance to rapidly saying something.

When I talk he doesn’t look at me. His eyes are elsewhere, and I know that in a second or so he will pick up the newspaper, and then say that he can listen to me and read the paper at the same time.

I cry inside, letting go of my words, and I know that another family dinner has passed.
And there is no one really listening. Me neither.

This happened for years. I asked him innumerable times to look me in the eyes when I talked to him, but he just couldn’t. Often he cut me off when I was in the middle of something. I got so used to being interrupted that I started talking in half sentences, without even noticing it. (A friend said: You never say a whole sentence, and he is interrupting you all the time).

I think that was a lesson which helped me to understand the value of listening. You can hear so much if you are really listening.

Well now you could say that I was a lousy listener when it came to my husband. And yes, I was. I was tired of the monologues, because it was like I was listening to him pouring out his thoughts on me. It was almost like I could have replaced myself with a paper doll, that could make nods, every second minute, just to show him that someone was listening.

I my youth I was engaged in politics and different associations, I wanted to (and actually still want) create a better, more fair world. But it took me only a couple of years to give that up, because I noticed that few was actually listening. And still today when I hear a discussion between politician I see this lack of interest in the other… It’s like many says: ”Listen to me, to my ideas, hear me out”… So what I witness is a series of monologues… and me… who has striven for connection for so long… just get tired.

So I practice listening. I am still not a superhero when it comes to listening, but I am getting better.
So try to do this:

In a conversation, focus listening.
Ask questions which encourages the other person to talk. And then listen again.
If you want to show that you really have listened, you could say something like this:
”I heard you say this and this…. is that a correct interpretation of what you said? If not, please fill me in.

What would happen is you become a better listener?
How can you listen to your self? Name some ways you could listen carefully to yourself? What voices do you hear?

Words from your love warrior

The curse of kindness

I kneel in front of him, I literally kiss his feet and I say:
– I love you from the depths of my heart, and even if you leave me I will feel gratitude for our love.
He looks at me from a distance, as if my words don’t really concern him.

There is this moment, when I really want him to see me, where I am not kneeling in front of him, where I am not trying to show him the grandeur of my love. There is this moment when I have given up the idea of reaching in to him, it’s this moment when I am so desperate to being seen, that I am prepared to show myself without any disguises, where I am prepared to be seen as a fool, or as stupidly weak.

The night before we had had one of our eternal battles, our inner children crying and begging to be seen, and my inner child with a feeling of being beaten to the ground, because his inner child demanded all the space. I could see myself trying to console him, leaving my own needs to be seen behind, because his inner child cried higher than mine.

As usual I lost the battle. I ended up surrendering to his inner child, to the stubborn, angry, envious and blaming child in him, surrendering to his needs and, and in this sequence, abandoning my own inner child. Again.

But in this moment, in the twilight of the morning, my inner child is tapping at my back, she is screaming, she is in rage. She wants me to stand up for me, and she needs me to do that, in some kind of confrontation with him.

The night before, before my surrender, I had really tried to be visible to him. I had tried to get his consolations, his love and his commitment to me and to us. I had failed, as countless occasions before, I had failed.

And now I stand there in the twilight. I am desperate. I know that my words don’t reach him. I know that me kneeling in front of him doesn’t reach him. I know that me massaging his feet with essential oil doesn’t reach him. But what would?

My inner child demands action from me. She wants me to show her that she is important. She wants me to prove my love to her. And she yells at me that it’s necessary to do that through waking him up.

I am devastated. I am exhausted. I speak to him, and he answers as if not hearing me, not noticing my desperation inside.

I stand there in my robe. I walk into the bathroom. I put on the cold-water tap. I shower in ice cold water. Then I go out in to the hallway and stand there. My robe dripping cold water into the carpet, I feel the cold cloth towards my skin. I stand there, eyes closed, in a silent, wet, freezing, meditation.

He doesn’t act.

I stand there for five minutes, until my body starts to warm up again. Then I go into the shower again, cooling myself. Out in the hallway again. Silence. Dripping. No response.

After another five minutes, time for ice cold shower again.

Still no movement, no words, nothing from him. I have decided to do this ritual until I get some sort of response. I do this to tell my inner child that I hear her. I am prepared to be this drama queen, to exaggerate this much, to make her understand that I do love her, I am not just there to give him love, to make him feel good. I need to be there for me as well.

It takes more than fifteen minutes for him to react, for him to undress me, for him to give me a warming hug.

And it was worth it. It was a way for me to tell my inner child that I am important, that a love relationship is about the people being in a relation, not just one of them.

I have lead groups for ages. Often I start by saying: Be kind to yourself. I’ve always had a hunch that this “being kind to” is really about me, being kind to myself.

The other day I suddenly realized something new. I realized that kindness could be a curse.

Look at this woman kneeling in front of her beloved. Look at her begging him to acknowledge her love for him. Look at her willingness to give him anything to get a response for him. Look at me, a sucker for love and recognition.

Through my life I have considered myself as being a good girl. I have seen how the good girl in me has served me, and made me stumble and trip at times. I have seen how she has tried to do things to deserve love.

And now I get in contact with the kind girl in me. A persona who has worked undercover, who has been invisible to me, and who is a much needier kind than my good girl.

Kindness. Sometimes I have loved this quality, and sometimes I have despised it. I once had a very nice and kind boyfriend, and it triggered the bitch in me. I didn’t have the capacity to receive his loving kindness. I turned him down. I laughed at him. I was very arrogant.

Now I am able to see his love and his willingness and my own incapacity to being loved and how I needed to flee from his love. His kindness hurt me. And maybe, but just maybe, I felt a bit manipulated by his kindness. Maybe I felt that behind this kindness lured a neediness I really didn’t like? Or that this reminded me of something I didn’t really want to get in touch with. An old wound, still sore.

And now it’s possible for me to see how I have used kindness to get love. It’s possible for me to see that it wasn’t acceptable for me to be needy – a weak trait – so I choose the kindness strategy. Until now I have been totally unaware of this pattern. How one quality in me, can disguise something else, something deeper, something that would hurt more to dig up and scrutinize.

I have used kindness to get love. I have hoped that my care and kindness would give me love in return. I have traded kindness for love.

When did it start? Was this strategy there from my childhood? Did I use kindness to feel loved by my parents? Is my kindness connected to co-dependency? This inner child in me, forcing me to stand there ice cold in the hallway, what was she trying to tell me? What patterns in me did she uncover in that precise moment?

I get an epiphany around kindness. That kindness has been a curse in my life. That kindness actually has separated me from myself.

I realize that I have learned that being kind to another is the most important. I have learned that other persons sorrow, shortcomings, grieving’s, challenges, has been more important than mine. That being kind to myself would be to be egoistic. And in consequence with that, that self-love is something to be suspicious about.

And paradoxically, me being surrounded by people demanding, in an energetic way, me to being kind to them, at the same time seeing them as being… egoistic… forgetting to give me more kindness in return.

It doesn’t work to get love from being kind, if there is this hidden agenda: “If I am kind to you, you will give me love in return.” I need to start out from my self, giving me love, and then spreading it to others.

I need to change perspective. I need to change focus.

And I am so surprised. I thought that I already had done the homework.

And I here I stand… knowing what is necessary to do:
I need to be kind to me.
I need to listen to my inner voice.
I need to listen to my heart.
I need to say no to what doesn’t serve.
I need to say yes to that which serves.
And it scares the shit out of me.

What would happen if I didn’t fear disappointing others?

I want people to feel that they can trust me, that I am loyal, that I am caring.
And I notice that some of my striving to be this beautiful person, comes from a space of scarcity or fear. It’s like I have to earn the right to be part of something, and if I don’t to the right thing, others might be disappointed at me, and that can lead to me being kicked out of the community, what ever that is.

What I see is also one of my core wounds, an Achilles heel: Why do I fear being a disappointment for others, deep down?
I often say: ”What other people think of me is non of my business”. (And I blush, from shame, to say, that I sometimes care about what others do think of me). And I also know that most people are so occupied by themselves, that they seldom notice others shortcomings. If there is a disappointment, it often blows away fast. What rests is the worry in me: ”What if this person is disappointed at me. What could I do to change that? What could I do to not disappoint anyone in the future?”

And I know that these kind of thoughts aren’t constructive, and are signs of self-consciousness. Minding too much about what others might think. It’s like a bad fantasy where I place myself in the center, somehow believing that what I do or don’t do is of utter importance to others.

And at the same time… what do I think of others that makes mistakes or say something stupid? Often it disappears, or I forgive them, or I reflect over what happened, and find some explanation.

What if I really learn that each person is their own universe? That most of us worry about ourselves, rather than of people we meet. So the fear of disappointing others is so … should I say stupid? It’s like I let my fantasies, my fears, influence my behavior. In worse case I change my behavior, just because of this fear… And I don’t even know if this is something that might disappoint a person.

And when I let this fear in, I let go of some of my personal power. It’s like this fear replaces the power, and parts of me collapses. In a bad situation it’s like rolling down a hill, and not knowing where I land. And it opens for a lot of annoying and fruitless states… like starting to self-pity, or feeling like a victim, or feeling worthless.

When I can watch that this is playing out, I have a choice. I can see this as a learning potential. ”What was it that triggered this fear?” ”Does this remind me of something that happened to me before?” What was the outcome, when I as a child or teenager, felt this?” And then remind myself that I am alive and kicking, and that is proof enough that others disappointment didn’t kill me.

I don’t believe in pushing this fear into the shadow, trying to pretend it’s not there. To me it’s better to put out the fear in the light, and look at it.

I still want to be a trustworthy and loving person, but no longer on my own expense. I want to sit by the steering-wheel, and ask for pardon, when it’s really needed. And I want to go on being me, making my choices, even if others are disappointed or irritated or frustrated with me.

I started writing about shame, sexuality and power some 11-12 years ago. I started a blog where sexuality was one of the subjects… And family members have had all sorts of feelings around that. I notice. And I continue, because this IS important to me. I need to work on my mission, even though some doesn’t like it. I need to listen inwards.

And I also need to embrace my inner child, whose fear this is really. And as a little girl, it was actually sometimes dangerous to do things that might be disappointing for others. Because a child need support from the surroundings, she is dependent on others. Today I am freer, and I don’t want my limiting and fearsome beliefs, that sometimes surfaces, to decide my route.

1. Do you recognize any of this?

2. How do you handle you being disappointed at others?

3. How do you handle a situation where others might be disappointed with you?

Reflections from a love warrior

What if vulnerability is an important key?

This client of mine, I’ve met him several times. He is craving for touch, to be seen by a loved one, and he is so freaking afraid to be rejected that nothing really happens. The magic isn’t there.

I meet his eyes, I am listening, I am there for him. I give him space and massage. And I give him some small homework to try out with the loved one.

And then he comes back. Sometimes he looks very small, even though his a mature man to the years. And I wonder what makes it so difficult for him to come closer to the loved one, to be really intimate.

Sometimes he rants about his difficulties, and it’s like he often plays the same tune, name the same difficulties, and it’s like he slowly transforms into a victim. And it hurts in me to see this inability to sit at the steering wheel.

One day I ask him: Have your ever told her, what you tell me?

He just looks at me. ”Tell her, what I tell you??”

• To me you say what is, you talk about your insecurities, your pain. You tell me what you avoid, and what you long for. Have you shared that with her?

He just looks at me, again. It’s like I’ve proposed something unimaginable. ”Say what is”.

For a while he looks like something hollow. It’s like my idea is threatening to him.

”If you say what is, you show vulnerability, and that might become a heart opener”, I say.

And it’s like he never ever in his life have considered to share whats going on inside him. And I understand that he’s been hiding most of his life. 

And I ask him to really try it out. Try vulnerability out. And he nods.

After the session I reflect on what happened. To me it’s natural to share what is. I make conscious decisions around what to share, and then I do it. And the most common response, is that I feel love pouring towards me from the person I share with. It’s like we create a soft and intimate space, just by saying what is present in the moment. And naming any fear, worries, shame or guilt that is present. Include what is usually pushed away to the shadows. 

And from that space streams love. It might be almost terrifying to start sharing, but when the words starts coming, when eye-contact is there, what usually happens is love. Even if you reveal something that you usually are ashamed of.

And I also learned something new about myself. That sharing, that being vulnerable (also sharing the light), has become something natural to me. Maybe thats why it took so ling before it hit me: Being vulnerable might not be something natural for everyone. 

And my experience is that vulnerability is one important key for a love-warrior to understand herself and fellow human beings.

”Why do you keep using yourself as a bad example?”

My mother read one of the earlier books I wrote. It was called something like ”Better relations at work”. In that I used myself as the person who made mistakes, and what I learned from them.
My mother asked me why I used myself as ”bad example”? 

Until them I hadn’t noticed this trait in my books. And my purpose with sharing shortcomings was not to push myself down, it was rather to use myself as an example, being a mirror to the reader, showing that I went from a to b, and learned something. Yes, that’s it, I showed a possible learning-process and also shifts in behavior.

One could say that using myself as example is bold, blunt, stupid, clever, lazy or smart. To me it was definitely smart, because I didn’t have to make interviews with other people, telling their stories. I mean I was the source and knew what had happened.

And today I am aware of that this has become a style, something that I often do. Using myself as a possible mirror, using myself sometimes as a potential role model.

And in all my books (all non-fiction) I am always there, somehow. Because I learn from other people, from their mistakes, and from their success. I learn how I can live my life in a way that really works for me. And I choose how personal the stories I tell am. I’m sort of in control.

And what I see is that people really can mirror themselves in my experiences. ”I recognize myself in what you tell…” This was so obvious when I had written ”Have you no shame - liberate your sexual power”, where I told my journey from shame to pleasure. 

And I actually don’t see myself as a bad example, as my mother stated in 2006. I use myself as an example. Period.

I see myself as a woman who has many things in common with others. I have not lived in an ashram, or climbed Kilimanjaro, or being part of a band. I married at 24, had my first child at 25, lived with my first husband for 17 years, living parts of the time in a big house… Well sort of ordinary. I pretended to be tough, and played that part, but was scared and hollow at the inside. And then I started my journey towards liberation. And it’s sort of that journey, that I picture in my books. And that journey is sometimes like walking on roses and sometimes on the spikes of the roses. I choose to see myself with stronger clarity, including my fears and shortcomings - and I described how I dealt with that.

And I guess that’s what I aim at as a love warrior. That we see the totality of ourselves, and embrace who we are. And if we are aware of our shadows, we don’t longer need to play them out. If I accept the shame, it doesn’t trigger so much. If I notice my arrogance, I don’t start blaming myself for it, I just get aware that the arrogance is present for a while, and I might even smile at it.

And it’s like I am trying to really sort out what I want to share with the world, how to make the love warrior tangible for me, so that I can start doing what I deep down long for. Spreading the message from the love warrior.  And what I see, more clear now, is sharing my experiences is really the core… (and then choosing what parts that might be helpful for others).

Reflections from your love warrior 

What would happen if you let your fears surface?

Almost on a daily basis I am a little afraid of something. The fear might be felt like the flaps of a little bird inside my chest. Or it might feel like a pressure over my chest. Or an uneasyness. Or the whispers from my inner critic.
What I usually do is letting the fear be present. Just breathe with it. See what happens if I walk through it. Sometimes, I turn to the fear and ask: ”What do you want to tell me in this moment?”
And slowly, the fear evaporates. And it happens that this little process learn me something new about myself, sometimes it’s actually what is needed, not to be ruled by the fear.

My truth is that we can learn to handle difficult feelings, just by letting them be there, and not acting on them. This is simple on one level, but might also be overwhelmingly difficult on another level - because it requires something of you: To be responsible for your wellbeing, your thoughts, your actions, your words, your feelings.

I want to share a metaphor. Let’s say you are at a beach, you walk into the water. When you are standing in the water, you suddenly see a ball, or a balloon, filled with something you fear, or are afraid about. It could be anything. One ballon is filled with one fear/shame and you push that balloon under the surface. You have to use force to keep it under the surface, and you really want it to stay there, for no one to see. And then there comes another thought, fills another balloon, and you press that one under the surface as well. And then comes another. And in the end you might have a bunch of ballons of repressed feelings under the surface. You think you are in control. And then, someone yells at you, saying something that you, normally, could cope with like: ”Didn’t you hear, it’s time for lunch, you have to go out of the water?”.

Instantly you feel extremely guilty and you start screaming something nasty at the person, wanting you to take part of the meal. The other person is stupefied… how could you be so angry in an instant? What happened was that you lost grip of one or two of the ballons, and they popped up in the face of your friends. And you had no control what so ever.

When trying to push down what you might consider as your shadows, or what you don’t like, fear or are ashamed about, they risk to pop up in any situation, you showing for example outrageous anger for something tiny.

If you, and that’s what I practice (and sometimes fail) is to not press the balloons under the surface, but letting them rest on the surface, so I and other can see them. On the surface I don’t need to use any of my energy, but to press them down takes a lot of energy.

So one way of becoming more free is to slowly, one at a time, let the balloons rest on the surface. One epiphany I got when starting to do this, was, (time to blush a little), that vert few saw the balloons on the surface, or didn’t bother if they saw them, or even embraced me, saying… I am also afraid.

What if you try to identify something you push down under the water, or be lingering in the shadows, and just let it be there, visible? 

Notice what is happening to you. Notice what is happening to people around you.

What happens to me then? Sometimes something in me relaxes. Before I was really really tense… and now… it’s a softness in my system, which comes from relaxation.

Reflections from a love warrior

What if your ego is a balloon?

Sometimes I meet a person who seems very sure of himself (well, I’ve met this most in men). Sometimes he is boasting  about what he is doing and how good he is. Sometimes some blaming of others, or putting others down is part of the scene.
And I, sometimes, feel sorry for him. And I am on the verge, but just on the verge, of saying:

– Do you need a hug? 

Of course it’s more to it than that. I meet this persons who seems to have blown his ego up, without proportions. The balloon can become so big, that it might explode any moment. And from my perspective it’s sometimes like the ego of the person is in that big balloon, and on the ground stands an insecure boy, holding the cord, hoping for people to see the big ballon, instead of him in his smallness and insecurity.

What would happen to a person like that, if someone just took a tiny needle and broke the balloon? What would happen to the ego, his idea about status, who he is, who the world sees, his reputation, his hops and dreams? Would they die as the balloon shrinks and fall to the ground, and everybody could see the tiny floppy thing on the ground?

I guess I boasted my ego to some extends to hide myself, what is I, from being scrutinized or judged. I thought it was better if people disliked my ego (the role I played), instead of judging what is the core of me. It was sort of like a safe way to take.

And sometimes I’ve met persons who do want a hug, who do want a change, who are tired to play the part they’ve been playing until know. Who has a longing to show who they really are, but are so freaking frightened, that they cover up with the ego.

What happened to me when I started to show me, to be vulnerable in front of others, when I also started to be more visible to myself, was that love started to grow. 

Some of that ”ego-acting” had led me into if not self-hating, so to self-pity and the like. I had felt like a hollow phoney, and that anyone, anytime, could put the needle into my balloon and crush me.

When I suddenly was me, I could see that I was able both to give love and receive low. I came in contact with my worthiness, the fear of being called a phoney slowly vanished. And this, to actually be aware of this ego-business, making ourselves bigger than we are, could really be a change-maker. 

Today I think there are people who believes that the ballon is big for real. They overestimate themselves - sometimes depending on conditioning, the belief that one needs to be big and boasty to be a success. And then there are other people who really tries to look bigger than thet are, to cover a strung sense of inadequacy.

What if we start loving ourselves as we are. If we let go of the balloon? How would it be to be us, then? What changes would happen inside and outside in the world, outside our busy minds?

Reflections from a love warrior 

What if … your thoughts are not for real?

I am going to win this one.
I am going to loose.
I am sure that she loves me.
I know that she hates me.
It’s like no one is seeing me, I am all alone.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. They are there almost all the time. But what do they really represent? The truth?

When in a coaching session and a client blurts out some of the misery he or she feels, it’s like I see a bucket of thoughts tumbling out. Sometimes they make some sense. Sometimes they smell. Sometimes they are out of it. Sometimes they are grandios, sometimes thet are filled with fear or worry, sometimes they av matter-of-factly.

And they all come from my clients mind.

And sometimes, when the stream is heavy with negativity, guilt, blaming, self-blaming or shame, I ask the question:

– Do you believe in your thoughts.

Often there is a silence. It’s like you could hear angels passing by. The breathing has stopped. There is a silence. Sometimes this is a moment when the primal brain is activated and want’s to protect the client from this naughty question. Sometimes there is a big sigh, like in a relief. And sometimes nothing really happens.

– Of course my thoughts are true, what are you aiming at, don’t you believe me, do you think I’m a lier, could the client in fight-mode answer.

And the person sighing might say:

– Thank you, what a relief. Are you saying that I’m not my thoughts.

And some simply answers:

– No, I don’ believe all my thoughts. And they say it from a space of knowing. 

In my reality, you are not your thoughts. And sometimes it’s really good to make a distance to them. Because our thoughts, which are good for so many reasons, sometimes is what chain us to our fears, our past, our worries, our shame, our sense of inadequacy. Sometimes it’s our thoughts who puts us in prison.

And the amazing thing is that we also have the key to the prison door. It’s possible to lessen the power of your thoughts. 

And there are several ways to do it.

I’ll share one here (and might return with another, more playful way).

Exercise:

Sit for a while in peace. If you prefer, close you eyes, to get more in contact inwards. Notice your thoughts. Start imaging them as clouds on the sky. Now try to lessen you attachment to the thoughts. See them, like the clouds passing by, hear them, but just let them pass. Sit lik this, letting them pass by, for a few minutes.

And then, follow one or two breaths, and just notice how it is to be you in this moment. And what happened to the feelings and emotions your thoughts usually creates?

Message from you lovewarrior 

What if … it’s time for the great forgiveness?

I did wrong.
I hurt somebody.
I lied.
I was arrogant.
I was too much in that situation.
I didn’t take care of myself well enough.
I did lot’s of stuff to save him, to save the marriage.
I didn’t have the power to leave, until I was in pieces myself.
I was in a fight as a ten year old.
I tried smoking and drinking when I was under age.

What if it’s time to forgive ourselves? What if it’s time to embrace all of ourselves. Even the least love-able parts?

I often do a little meditation with my clients. When they have their eyes closed and focus on the breathing, I start out asking them to hold a hand on their hearts, and then, a bit later, I ask them to listen to the body, is there any part that needs extra attention for any reason? Being forgotten, disliked, having pain, being happy… whatever … And then I ask them to put a hand there, and breathe into that space.

Now, when reflecting over that, one interpretation of the meditation might be, that this movement of the hand could be seen as a sort of forgiveness. ”Forgive me for having forgotten you, stomach, now I am here for you… what do you need in this moment?” 

I think that there is a connection between low self-esteem and feelings of guilt and shame. It’s like we give ourselves away to other persons judgments. And we might even have a tendency to expect ourselves to be judged.

And then our ideas are amplified by the ”inner judge”, ”the inner critic”, who is blaming us for doing or being wrong when we too things that might seem bold for these ”inner protectors”. And then we can let this run around in our system, and make ut feel like fakes, or misfits, or worthless beings.

I’ve done a lot of exercises where we aimed at forgiving. And we started out forgiving others for what we thought they had done to us. And in the next step it was time to forgive ourselves.

And my experience is that is so much easier both to be our own bully aka not forgiving ourselves, than to actually look at ourselves with kindness, and from our core say: ”I forgive me”.

Have I forgiven everything I’ve done to myself, my arrogance, my faults, my cowardliness, my lies, my unfaithfulness, my inability to set boundaries, my longing for love, me being bewitched by a narcissistic person?

Well, not in totally. I’ve come so far as to not regretting what I have done in my life. I see it all like experiences that has brought me to where I am in this moment. 

I wonder what would happen with my, my energy, my being, if I really, to the core, would forgive myself? (And as a flip-side - isn’t mistakes, bad decisions etc part of the human experience, part of being a human being, a ”perfect person”, is it possible being a human?)

So I take a big inhale. Put a hand on my heart. I look into the mirror and I say: I love me. I forgive me.

What do you have difficulties forgiving your self for?
How would it be to be you, when you don’t feel guilt or shame?
Imagine that you are free to be you - how would that be?

The great forgiveness is, to me, the ability to also forgive yourself.

Message from a love warrior 

What if it’s time to see courage as something more then as a means to broaden the comfort zone?

I wonder how many times I’ve seen the little picture (and even shared it myself) of a little cloud named ”your comfort zone” and then a little dot, far away from the cloud and there is a black arrow pointing at the dot, saying ”Where the magic happens”.

There is some true to that. But not the whole truth. And sometimes, maybe more often then we are aware of, that the magic happens within the comfort zone.

We are all conditioned, one way or another, by our parents, society, religion and school. And one way at looking at personal development, is that it’s purpose to BREAK us free from that conditioning, to be who ww truly are, to get in contact with our essence.

My experience is that I needed to handle some of my fears, to be more free to be me. But not through breaking, not through overriding my boundaries totally, but to approach my fears in a somewhat safe way.

I needed to learn what is only happening in my head, and make a distinction between fear and danger. It’s not dangerous to stand in front of an audience, but it could be very fearful. 

I remember that I, as a teenager, was really scared speak in public, but I still did, trembling inside. And then I decided I needed to learn to stand there, not being so filled with fears in my head, and I ended up writing a book on public speaking, which actually sold in some 15.000 copies. And at the same time I led workshops on public speaking, and during this process I learned to handle my fears. I was definitely courageous, but I did this transition in my pace, and on my terms. 

When leading the workshops (with many women as participants) I started by saying this mantra: ”Be kind to yourself, take any opportunity to practice and know that you are good enough”.

Some 15 years later I realized that it was really good to say this, but the person needing to hear it the most was probably me.

So to meet life and situations and being both courageous and kind, is a manageable way I think. And sometimes the most courageous thing I can do is to actually say a clear NO. 

It’s so easy to say yes to things, not to be seen as a coward, or as someone who isn’t interested in the magic - but maybe some of the courageous actions we see, is in reality a sign of fear (I need to do this, to succeed with this, to proof something to the world… and If I don’t I’m worthless.) What if your worthiness comes from truth, kindness, stamina, and listening to that inner voice of yours?