#TheYearofMindfulness, 52 Sundays, texts and thoughts

First Sunday.

First Question: What are you thankful for?

I’m thankful for so many things that I almost find it difficult to know where to start. I’m thankful for my life (not to be confused with being alive – even though I’m very thankful for that too). I’m thankful for all the things in life that can’t be bought with money. I’m thankful for the friends I’ve made and kept along the way – but also for the friendships I’ve had but no longer have. I’m thankful for coming to the realisation of what my body and mind need and what I can, and should, do to nourish them. I’m thankful for all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve met. I’m thankful for the times I’ve been brave in difficult situations and listened to my intuition instead of my ego. I’m thankful for the journey I’ve made so far, all the things I’ve learnt – big or small. I’m thankful that I’m determined and that I know what I want. I’m thankful that I can cry – for me it’s a great way to get rid of tension. I’m thankful for music and the way it makes me feel. I’m thankful for yoga and mediation. I’m thankful for being curious enough to try something new. I’m thankful for the person I’ve become. I’m thankful for life and for being allowed to be a part of it. I’m thankful to have a voice and to be able to speak my mind. I’m thankful for my freedom. I’m thankful for all the right choices I’ve made and for being able to appreciate them. I’m thankful for being so close to nature. I’m thankful for having a job. I’m thankful for my raincoat. I’m thankful for the ring on my left ring finger and the person I’m going to marry. I’m thankful for my body and for my mind. I’m thankful for wanting to change for the better and for doing my best to do so. I’m thankful for scented candles that actually smell nice and won’t giving you a headache. I’m thankful  for sleep and how it can help to heal my body. I’m thankful for being thankful.

grateful-heart_0

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#TheYearofMindfulness, 52 Sundays

The year of Mindfulness.

I think New Year’s resolutions are quite dumb. On the last day of the year, people are promising things left to right – just to feel like shit three days later when the resolutions didn’t go as planned. But where most people’s goals for 2018 are to eat healthier, get more exercise and lose weight –  I want to take a step back from the vanity of it all and instead focus on taking care of myself and my “headspace” – something I unfortunately have been quite (read really) bad with lately.

This year, I want to start appreciating the “simple” things in life and I want to take care of all the parts of me that can’t be seen in the mirror. For me, 2018 will be a year of mindfulness, and to celebrate this (but also to spur my creativity) I’ve decided to dedicate every Sunday for the upcoming 52 weeks to answer one of the questions below – starting today.

52 questions

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The first Sunday of the year.

I had so many great plans for the first Sunday of the year. I was going to wake up early, have a long hot shower, attend a morning yoga class at my favourite coffee shop and then spend the rest of my day writing and being creative. But when you wake up with a raging cold and the mood of wanting to stay in beed for the upcoming three years, you don’t push it. So no Sunday-morning-yoga for me. However,  I got some well deserved hibernation in bed with a very cuddly cat.

positive pants

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texts and thoughts

Life happens.

The problem with life is that you never know what you’re gonna get. You might think you’ve got it all figured out, but then life decides to make a U-turn, take a right where you would have gone left, and then drive for 48 hours straight in that very direction.

When I was 18, I had a plan. Today, nine years later, I’m 544 miles away from that plan (if you choose the fastest route on Google Maps). During these nine years, my life has had many U-turns. It has broken down, then been repaired. It has had its windscreen shattered, been unpleasantly close to a crash or two, and has run out of fuel more times than I can remember. But during the same nine years, my life has also taken me places I never thought I’d go. It has shown me sunrises over mountains and horizons behind blue, blue seas. It has picked up some amazing people along the way and played my favourite songs on the radio, over and over again.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that life, with its numerous mood swings and sudden and surprising turns, happens – and you just gotta deal with it. You gotta learn how to roll with the punches and make the best of what you’ve got. Because if life had turned out the way I thought it would when I was 18, then I’d be living in central London right now, dating Robert Pattinson. In my 18-year-old fantasy world, it would be late Spring or early Summer all year around and my kitchen windows would always be open so I could hear the birds sing, while working on some big journalistic scoop and drinking my morning coffee (mind you, I didn’t even like coffee back then). My London flat would look like something out of an interior magazine – neat, stylish and filled with big bouquets of fresh flowers from the local market. In my flat, every single trinket, ornament and keepsake would have its own special place. My life would be pretty and perfect and I would be pleased as pie.

This far into the text, I guess you might have figured out that me and Robert never happened. Neither did the flat I just so lovingly described. But I’ll tell you what did happen: life. Because that’s what life does – it happens. Sometimes we’re lucky enough for it to happen the way we dream, hope for and plan, but more often than not, life simply throws you a curveball and expects you to just deal with it. And so you do.

If you would have told 18-year-old me, who used to have ‘I’ll never fall in love again’ as her ringtone, that she’d be engaged (with anyone else than Robert Pattinson that is) by 27, she probably wouldn’t believe you. She definitely wouldn’t believe you if you said that she, one day, would be engaged to a guy two years younger than her. Why? Because that’s not how “it’s supposed to be”. But guess what? Sometimes love, just as life, happens. Sometimes love happens when you’re wearing a black beanie with the text ‘AIN’T NO WIFIE’ to the pub. Sometimes it happens when a random guy gives you stolen Gouda from the behind the bar, or when in the middle of the dance floor you realise both of you are studying the same thing at uni – just a couple of years apart. Sometimes love and life just happen – and then you simply have to take it from there.

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svenska texter

Min mormor dog igår.

Min mormor är död.

Det känns så konstigt att säga det. Konstigt att tänka det. Konstigt att skriva det. Att min mormor är död och att hon inte finns mer. Att hennes kropp ligger på Vrinnevis bårhus och att så är det med det.

Allt det där är så svårt att ta på, när man bor i ett annat land. När man hör sin mamma gråta på andra sidan telefonen och snörvla fram orden ’nu finns inte mormor mer’ så vet man mycket väl vad det betyder, men det tar så himla lång tid innan man förstår.

Först tänker man att ’jaha, då var hon död då för det är liksom någon logisk, känslomässig spärr som sätter in. Eller så kanske det är chocken. Man försöker säga ’jag beklagar sorgen’ men får bara fram ’men mamma, jag är ledsen’ eller ’åh mamma, förlåtför det är ju så man säger i det landet jag bor i nu. Hjärnan funkar inte riktigt som den ska, för den stänger liksom av. Den ställer in sig på självförsvar och överlevnadsmode – och man försöker bara vara logisk. För mormor är död. Hon är borta. Finns inte mer.

Sen när man lagt på så tänker man på hur hon dog. Man undrar om hon var rädd och om det gjorde ont. Om hon visste vad som hände eller om det bara hände helt sådär, utan förvarning och utan rädsla. Man hoppas på det sista.

Sen tänker man på sist man sågs. Man tänker på snabbvisiten i hennes vårdboende där hon inte längre riktigt var sig själv. Där hon från och till var förvirrad, smal och rullstolsburen – men där korsordstidningarna, NT och Landet Runt ändå låg i hög på köksbordet som en ständig påminnelse om den personen hon en gång var. De rappa kommentarerna var borta. Likaså det där hjärtliga skrattet. Kvar var bara en liten, liten tant i rullstol med mattat vitt hår som inte ville äta eller dricka – bara röka under fläkten.

Min katt sov med mig hela natten. Hon låg ihoprullad till en liten boll precis bredvid mig, nära bröstet, vilket alla som känner min katt vet att hon aldrig gör. Hon bara låg där hela natten och när vi vakande runt sex så var månen fortfarande uppe och lyste upp både himlen och taken på granitbyggnaderna runt omkring. Månen var helt rund och sådär oerhört klar att man inte kan göra annat än stå och stirra på den, där den gömde sig bakom skorstenarna ett par hus bort. Och på sätt och vis så kändes det helt självklart att månen skulle vara vackrare än vanligt, nu idag när min mormor inte finns mer. Som om det var naturens sätt att säga tack och hej för denna gång, det var trevligt så länge det varade. Nu är hon död, gammelgäddan.

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I’m Flashdancing it.

I honestly just googled “first blog post” and was kindly presented with about 387 million results. Sadly, ain’t nobody got time for that. So, I (as you do) checked out the three first results and went with the one I liked the best: “This Is Exactly What Your First Blog Post Should Be About” by some guy called Harsh Agrawal. And let me tell you – Harsh’s pretty harsh, to be honest. Because little did I know that your first ever blog post “serves as the primary basis of your blogging business” and that you’re pretty much “doomed to fail” if you get it wrong. No pressure.

Well. You know what? With all due respect Harsh, but I really can’t be arsed with pressure. Especially not after 12 years of school and four years of uni. So, hi, my name is Elin and I’m starting this blog because I can. I’m taking my passion, and making it happen – in true 1983 Irene Cara style. I guess we could say that I’m Flashdancing it.

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