When waking up in a world seemingly not prepared for the thoughts I want to voice, communication becomes a multi-leveled challenge forcing the core to.. jump.. to scream.. to laugh. It forces my soul to LOVE . The heart gets ripped open time and again. This life demands presence! It craves improvement! It forces a person to be R E A L.

To understand what is happening with/for and to me; to interpret what's coming my way; to identify WHO I am ~ WHY I'm here ~ WHAT my purpose is, I have to learn to focus my being; be prepared to put in the effort to work for it; and learn to automatically decipher e v e r y t h i n g.

Be attentive. *I* am in control here. THIS is my Journey.

Deciphering the Kaleidoscope is my attempt to explain how I'm continuously working on doing it, and the Journey to every day be as mindful of it as I can. Coming out of life so far with multiple traumas and PTSD as a consequence, I need to have it as open and constantly conscious as possible in order to be healthy, be happy and move forward.

We're dealt a hand that we didn't really choose and within those parameters, we have the obligation to ourselves to make it right by us. Where I'm coming from doesn't define me; it presented tools to become me. Move away from fear and limitations, towards goals, dreams and progress.

In my way, my pace, and at my will.


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A question was asked in a Facebook group I'm a member of. 

"Would you date a man with baggage?"

Although many recognized that we all have baggage, others would refuse to date anyone that had any. And it got me thinking.

I wouldn't want to date anyone without some form of baggage. Trying times make us aware of who we are, push progress and insight. Baggage for me is a testament that we're humans, that we experience life, that we live to win, and that we sometimes, when we don't win, we learn.

Baggage means we put in effort someplace, left a part of ourselves and replaced it, and it changed us. It means we failed, sometimes forward, other times backwards, but we didn't stop.
Baggage to me are treasures, something that brought us closer to life. Because of this baggage, I am here.

The way we carry the baggage is the trick, sometimes it weights heavier than other times, but it doesn't stop us from going further. Looking at it shows just how long that journey has been and how far I've come.

When baggage becomes a problem is when it's not yet a baggage. When you're in the middle of it still unsure how to pack. And in that moment I'm not dating anyone, but I'll lend a hand, a shoulder or hand you a drink. Whatever that can help you get going.

I didn't come this far with an empty slate. And I didn't come this far to only come this far.




I was talking to a friend online today about long-distant relationships. As an ENFJ, the online communities melt into the real life and make the world so much smaller for me. Unfortunately, not a lot of people feel the same way and sometimes I feel stuck with that emotional reaction, and the thought does hit me that I'm definitely born in the wrong part of the world. That me being here in Sweden is a hinder instead of an asset. I can move. I'm not stuck. Are you?

For me, geographic orientation isn't as important as connection is, when I start talking to someone. Deep connection is far more valuable for me than sitting small talking with someone at a café. And I can connect deeply, in distance. That is one of the things that make ENFJs great.

In my connection to another person, I care about whether or not we have similar values; can we grow individually together? I care about whether we bring the best out in each other. I care about dreams and goals; but also how the inside processes thoughts and emotions. Will we be good for each other?
Getting to know someone in distance brings perspective and nuances on already known concepts; it push for other dimensions of emotional interaction. It push intuition, trust and clarity of sound, and collide the souls into lost ways - because you have to seek other means to be close. You get to know someone in more intimate ways - IF both people are true and honest, that is. It will force you to clear communication. This is nothing like every day small talk. You have to learn to communicate with details; learn to express yourself. Online some people find that to be easier - others find it to be harder. Whatever kind of person you are, to survive long-distant connection, you have to be true. 

In a long-distant relationship you get the opportunity to really connect without having small things getting in your way. It forces you to CHOOSE, daily, to be with this person far away from you. I tell you now, THAT choice is far more personal when you fight for it.
And for me, being chosen to be with - daily - is the key. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't know what they want or who they want. Presence is in this case essential - doesn't have to be physical, but will be physical, if that is the choice.

It requires will-power and creativity though, to be in distance. It cannot be a roller coaster from one day to another. You have to be sure, at least in the sense that you're going to try and make an honest effort to try. Long-distance relationships are not for everyone by any means.

I found that I focus on areas of communication that sometimes are disregarded when the person is right there in the flesh. Instant gratification is not going to happen so effort is called for to reach stages in the relationship. It will weigh sometimes, when time zones don't match and you want to talk and the other person is sleeping. It will force you to know about self care and trust yourself and the other person. It will temper you. It can keep you on your toes. It will require you to put in effort to keep it alive. But it also brings you a world of deep satisfaction. You meet someone you wouldn't have otherwise, had you thought your soul mate lived on the same street, and never lingered out of that comfort zone. Like me. I know that person doesn't live here.

You have to force your being to interactions beyond physical meet-ups. In turn, it makes the physical meet-ups more intense when they happen. And of course, long-distance relationships can be where is starts, shouldn't be where it ends.
It cannot keep being long-distance; the goal has to be, to one day actually be physically together. You might not know HOW that is going to happen, you just have to WANT it to happen, and it can be done <3

Because Love doesn't care about whether or not you're ready. It cares about whether or not you're willing.




I am stoked! I have a plan and I'm sticking to it!

Sounds like something one should do, I'm sure, but my plans are always flexible within the frame of its existence and outcome always what is best for people around me and rarely what is best for me. However, I am proud to say, I am done throwing myself under the bus.

I am going to improve myself. For me nonetheless. :)

I am going to jump on the train of eating even better, slow starting exercise, mainly for the overall well-being but also for the stress release. This method I'm having with dealing with it internally isn't working. My health is affected, my mood, my motivation, my inspiration and creativity. Days can get incredibly dark, I can't meditate and my body hurt; and I just refuse to spend any one single day like that again.

So plan is to daily put it here. I have to to keep myself accountable.

It's time.




It's one of those days where I dislike being single. It's not any special occasion today, just hit harder as Spring comes closer, and I remember so many moments when life was shared with someone. Taking trips to the woods just walking and holding hands. Sit in silence reading a book, sharing the living room space with someone. It is really the small things that are the big things when I look back.

I've grown accustomed to coming home to a silent house, no disturbances and no sound means no violence and no pain; but I can walk around in the dark unsettled and never grow safer with that. I've grown accustomed to certain things but no kisses and hugs by the entrance; no snuggling from behind in the kitchen, or the flutter by touches when passing in the hallway...? I'm used to walking around being touched by no one by now, but I miss it terribly.

And the further I get from my memories, the harder it seems for me to reach the probability of creating new ones with anyone. Years bring hinders ~ not because of fear or disbelief, but rather because my vision becomes clearer. My double standard annihilates most of my arguments. I'd love to grow with someone, reach our individual dreams and support the journey. Meet the imperfect perfect that i truly value.

However my mind goes "...but *I* cannot be half-assed imperfect perfect. No no. I'm not at my best, and who am I to present myself when I'm not at my best? Who'd love someone in progress, let alone love ME in progress? No it's better to wait until it's better, until I'm better, until I'm worthy. I'm not worthy.. yet."

One standard for me, impossible to a fault; and a standard for everyone else.

Believe me, I know how it sounds. I hear my inside say it all too often, but I still cannot bring my mind to silence when diving deep. Caroline Myss paints one of my walls with her perfect quote. "The soul knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind."

I know my soul knows. I know I will get to the point where I feel I am good enough.
I just need to be courageous enough to believe it on days like these.




I’m taking control of this physical presence of mine, this breaking ship; pulling it down forcefully to the bottom of this god forsaken sea, allowing it to be destroyed by nature once and for all. I’m restoring it, piece by piece.

All the times it has shattered and I have reconstructed, it has bled and I have patched it up; screamed; sometimes tormented, other times crumbled as if it was haunted; and I have silenced it with lullaby’s of hope. Armored it with plating hope.

Oceans could rage and waves could overthrow the decks; I pulled it through anyhow as if nothing was tougher. Be that as it may, something was, and it would rupture from the inside as a form of subaqueous mutiny to my own life. A subliminal act of courage, nonetheless.

Me. My Purpose. My Core of Existence. My Essence. My Being being larger than this. Preponderant to the weight of my memories, experiences and regrets. It’s been perdurable in a much lesser cage than seemingly suitable. Hidden away as a result of a laceration far greater than anyone knows. It was made ugly with fantastic pieces; not by design but by violence.

Now, each piece will be put together as originally as they came; as oddly shaped as they are, knowing everything there is to know about disquietude, despair and paroxysm. Emotions weighing as bilge water while dreams and hope functions as void tanks; never sinking this ship again. I’m making this fit for an unwavering journey of amelioration. Awake.

This body, right here, with octagon patches, others in diamond shapes or pointed hexagon silhouettes; once thought of as a beautiful kaleidoscopic evidence of a historical life time, when it was the patchwork of sequestration. Now put together tempered in all it’s nakedness; fortified with love; incorruptible through cleansing; coated by nothing more than itself. No longer “suitable” for the cursorily, the arrogant, the careless and the covetous; who are all missing the depth, loyalty and survival skills of this patched up entity. I’m fine with that – move along. Please.

I want it admired by someone who can apprehend the history and see beauty instead of patches, dedicate to keep it safe while it’s out there on open waters, be present in the moments of its restored worth, and treasure it for all that it is. Lovingly patched together in awareness. Not beautiful perhaps, but asymmetrical and radiant, a similar figurine of prismatic segments as any other, yet like no other.




What a tormenting illusion it is walking around feeling broken and torn; shattered in pieces, beaten and unfulfilled. How these lies that others (and we ourselves) tell us; and how they overshadow all that we are as humans.

I was robbed of my senses - that was my life in a summary. My voiced was silenced, my body and my emotions were brutalized; my thoughts robbed of their creativity, inspiration and motivation - shocked into survival and hibernation. I negotiated everything to survive, even my worth and my dignity, but not my core and integrity. That, no one can take. The things that make me, Me.

I have fought for it, much harder than most can imagine, and I have built it up and rebuilt to many peoples misunderstanding. I've been judged by the things people failed to see, haunted by memories and terrorized by deeds, ultimately causing me to answer less questions, closing up and allowing less people in to my inner circle; which in turn creates even more misunderstandings and bitterness and weirdly enough, jealousy, around me. I'm even called stupid on occasion, and some family members think I should grow up.

When I saw that all I did was playing a hand that was dealt for me instead of grabbing my own cards, I changed my tactics. When I heard my words were spoken in rhymes from other peoples fast paced sentences, I stopped speaking so I could figure out what I wanted to say. When I understood that what I saw when I looked at myself was what they did to me, not who I was; I wiped my mirror clean and switched focus; cleansed my vision, closed my eyes.

I still haven't found the sense of worthiness though, however the basics are there, I know that.
​To keep my worthiness in a tipping weight scale is a tricky thing, but I weigh all my words and actions carefully just like I chose to do way back when. I was not to become who they were, do what they did, say what they said, treat people like they did. It was a measuring scale clearer than glass forming a pattern in me to shun away from it. And that was fine with me. It keeps me humble. It keeps me true. 

There is nothing dishonest about honest things. 

There is only discomfort in knowing expectations were too high; fine tuning frequencies usually do the trick.

​​Running away can also help.



I'm experiencing a new form of Outer Place; I'm watching everyday go by in a different form of involvement. I'm present, however present in a sense of a vibrating silence. Everything around me is still. I see movement but I'm not caught in the sounds of it. I see colors; every persons opinion becomes a spectacular play of colors; every persons emotional response bleeds out in rainbows.

​There is nothing chaotic about colors blending. When sound is off, it is a painting forming; sometimes unaware of its own birth.What I am witnessing outside of myself isn't bothering me. In short moments, I actually don't care much for what is forming before my eyes. It doesn't interest me. I really don't want to be involved with all this nonsense. I want Real.

I'm unaffected and delivered gently moment to moment, and I can actually hear my own breathing. I'm aware of it while everything else is moving.Now and again I'm pulled into the noise, and it is most times overbearing. My mind reacts with so many questions why life is like this, why so many are lost in it, walking like hollow pieces searching for themselves while, at the same time, pieces fall into place. 

This is not hard to understand.I don't need answers, I just need to follow the questions crashing into answers, solving themselves all on their own, falling to the ground in a sorrow-filled pool of madness.People don't know they're Alive. 





Soul-moving, Heart-touching fabrics
of a canvas-like Existence
forming vacuum bubbles of Absoluteness.

Life resurrected into quantum pieces
Taking Breaths;
Raining Selflessness
Shocking to Awareness,
forming to Feel.
Forming to Live

Breathing to Understand;
being Breathless to Allow self
to Live a Life IN Understanding
of a painted cried out Purpose

Alleviate "Me"
Watch it Unfold
In Breathlessnessof its vast structure
Through the Realization..
that there is none..






[October 21, 2008]

As Night held you

I could Whisper in its Silence

as the Spirit I was..


I could pass you swiftly, enter your Dream;

flutter like a Butterfly.

Kiss flowers upon your Dreaming meadow,

and have you smell my Fragrance of Light..


You dreamt of me and smiled,

but you forgot me again, when opening your eyes..


And before Day awoke you, I could caress you with my Soul's beam,

as the Spirit I was..

Weave my Essence in with yours

just to hold you close with reverence.


I could carefully mirror you;

create water pools of thoughts..

Seduce your Inside to yearn for me

have your Soul seek me in its Memories,

and have you Bathe in my Source of Light..


You felt me and cried,

but you forgot me again, when opening your eyes..


So I trembled,


that these hands could reach unhindered,

if but a Moment,

to touch you sleeping next to me..


That, when Mornings first Light awoke you,

how intense wasn't this wish to stay with you..


...still you woke up dazed

and a hands breath echoed in the mist of my passing,

because of what I was..


 I sighed in sadness while travelling the inscrutable worlds

Chose to not live here until we could live together

Chose to not come here until you remembered me

Remembered the Love we once shared

..and share still, in Hidden Dreams..



we could have built bridges of love for eachother

like Lifetimes ago

Overcome Infinity like ancient breaths

I could have Embraced and Held you

as the Spirit I was..




Helplessly I wonder what use is it

if you cannot Feel me?

On the verge of tears I ask what use is it

if you cannot awake and See me?

Inside me I suffocate how my love embraces you

and you still cannot Be with me


Because of the Dreamer you are

and the Spirit that I am..