Our parents and our past life play a big part in our thinking pattern today. Our thinking habits that create our reality. Or this is what I believe. If we just accept our thinking habits without questioning them, our reality will never change. I won’t be able to do things I’ve been telling myself I can’t. I am what I tell myself that I am. We adopt or get effected of our parents way of living. When we are young we see the world through their reality, through their values. And by the time we start questioning things, we have already created so many habits we are not aware of. But we can bring them into light, by questioning what we are doing, how we are reacting now. Today. Why do I value different things? What did my parents think about that? How is my thoughts connected to the way my parents thought about something?
I love my parents more than anything. They are crazy heads. I’ve told you about my mum who secretly dream about slitting tires of big SUV’s because of the pollution.
My dad is the most unspiritual person who at the same time is the most spiritual one. It’s so hard to explain. He talks about himself in third person. When we were out travelling he “wanted to apologise on the behalf of Arvo (his ugly-cute name) that he was acting so stressed”. He is probably the most unspiritual traveller. Everything is complicated when travelling.
My dad believes that Arvo lives in the carriage that is his body. If you see my dad, or his carriage and him, you wouldn’t guess that this is a person who talks about himself in third person. He is super cute. Have hairy ears if mum doesn’t trim them. They are the cutest couple. Mum is fire. Dad is… mud. Mud in the most beautiful way.
What they have done for me, and how they have put up with me and all my shit throughout the years, is to me fascinating. I mean, I was inside me. So I know. I was in the storm. I was the storm, and I couldn’t escape it. But they had to live with the storm. Day in. Day out. And try to dance all kinds of sun-dances around me. They tried to calm the storm. But the storm could only calm itself.
My parents have done everything for me. They have loved me, trusted me, and believed in me. They have spoiled me, cared for me. They have been angry with me, and I have been angry with them. Oh how angry I’ve been. Phones have been thrown into the wall, books have flown out the window. But they have never stopped trying to figure out how to turn my anger into love. Self love. And love for life.
I know that soon enough I can give back. I give back already. With love, and understanding. I give back with the fact that they can now be calm. Enjoy the calm mind, after the storm. But I’ve got a lot more to give. A lot more to do for, and with my parents. There are no actions in this world that can show how grateful I am for these two freaks of nature. Or three. Mum, Arvo and the carriage he is in. And by the end of this week I can be in their little hippie home in Stockholm and get my feet rubbed and moisturised by mum. Who gets her feet rubbed and moisturised by Arvo and the carriage. Maybe I can rub the carriage’s feet this time, no-one ever does.