Sometimes life is funky: Berlin May 2025

Morning reflections by the dinosaur park

Parked at a dinosaur amusement park just outside Berlin, I am staring at the leaves moving in the soft morning light and the rippling water of the lake in front of my windscreen. The first coffee is gone, and before I make the second, this text wants out. There’s the sound of a chainsaw and, funny enough, no birds — which is odd as the birds usually are my calling to write. 

To my left is a fellow camper and two giant plastic dinosaurs; to my right, my little camping coffee kitchen. I broke our inverter by insisting it could supply my rice cooker (let it be noted, my husband was right all along, and I was wrong), and now I pay for it by having to make good old moka pot coffee, leaving both of my espresso machines in boxes under the bed, along with the milk frother and all.

Back to basics & surrendering to trust

There’s nothing wrong with being humble for a while. Squatting in flip-flops, working with my good old Bialetti — the moka pot that has travelled the world with me for the past fifteen years — I breathe and feel grateful. Grateful that I live a life where I can expect to have a hot cup of coffee every morning, no matter what.

Back to basics. Everything is, of course, as it should be, as it always is. Scanning back through my life, I know there are still events and elements I have a hard time accepting as part of the “all is well” ( alt er godt is our Danish mantra, and this is the best translation). But when I silence my mind, I know I do trust it. I trust I don’t need to always understand. I know it is not my job to understand — it’s my job to listen and follow the guidance. Or, as I sometimes frame it: I don’t need to make a plan; I just need to follow The Plan.

Listening beyond the noise

It’s funny how this magical world works. My mind was full of to-do lists, practicalities, and skepticism, and all I could hear was the chainsaw (still there — I wonder if it’s something else or if they’re working really hard!). But as I sit with the words, allow them to flow, observe my surroundings and my mind, the birds start arriving.

At first, there was a chip from one I couldn’t identify, underlining: “you are on track.” Then, a woodpecker in a tree right in front of me (I don’t need to look at the computer while writing), followed by some small sparrows fluttering almost like butterflies, and a discreet common coot on the lake. Most importantly, I heard the crow — reassuring me the deep truth is at play here, a calling from my Norse spirituality: yes — the ball is rolling; yes — keep going; yes — more is to come.

Echoes of surrender & ego

Yesterday, we had a podcast recording with Kute Blackson and talked about ego, surrender, the soul, and guidance. I didn’t personally feel I connected well with the guy, but I did feel we were on the same page. I had been talking with my wise husband in the car for the past two days, as we’ve been driving from Budapest towards Copenhagen, about the same things — and there’s an interesting alignment of themes going on: how un-focus-ing is the main way. 

When I asked Kute how he received his guidance, he talked about whisperings, callings so gentle and soft you could easily miss them, and about silence. When I discussed with my husband the difference between that in-between stage in the mornings — where the mind is neither asleep nor awake — and actual meditation, it was the same conversation somehow: about what kind of silence allows for the guidance, or what kind of guidance, and about this un-focus.

The deliberate listening in the silence, allowing for the silence, and the in-between consciousness and the meditations allow for — or basically are — an unfocused state of mind, where presence has to give space to that which is not at the center of the focal point, has to zoom out without agenda, has to let go.

Trusting the subtle magic

It is SO HARD to put actual words on this!

A bit like what you see in the corner of your eye, a bit like hearing the birds behind the chainsaw, a bit like allowing for a lot of ego-process and personal emotions to play their part, while knowing your eternal soul will have its deep connection anyway — and all you can do is surrender and trust this.

Being unattached to the unfolding of that which will always try to stay in the stagelight, knowing the whole theater is a work, knowing there is so much more, knowing the theater is just one element of the big city in a big world.

Am I making any sense? To me, I am.

Remembering healing & the past

The chainsaw has stopped. I see the light on the lake — it’s beautiful, like children’s eyes and literature and sunrise. It’s giving me moments of deep connectedness. The leaves and the light and the water — the birds are just decorating, not talking to me, just cheering me on.

Do you have magic like that? I happen to know I’m not the only one receiving guidance from birds — it’s more common than you’d think. Pepole recieve in all kinds of ways, and I am convinced none are better than other. 

Allowing for the beauty of this moment, my scarred tissue from when I had cancer reminds me of the intensity of moments and the healing of our personal story. Somehow, I always knew I would become very sick at some point in this life. I’d had flashes of myself in hospital beds for many years — not the C-section context but something way more severe, something unwell, something off. Since I was a teenager, I had these flashes, pushing them off, trying to not jinx it, allowing but at the same time not really accepting. When it finally happened, when I was 35, I knew. I knew before the diagnosis, I knew before they drew my blood, I knew. 

All is well — and even that: beating cancer in the middle of life was part of what had to happen. I truly trust that, and the scars still burn. I still have to allow it. I still have to surrender to it — almost fifteen years later!

Preparing for the next steps

In the here and now, the chainsaw has started again, another camper has arrived, and I need that extra coffee. Work is calling: I want to look at the village project, the book project, the photographs, the social media, the blog, the newsletters — and I want to go for a run, high-fiving plastic dinosaurs, laughing because this world and this life journey are hilarious. 

Are we always aligned and ready to listen to Big Guidance? No. But it’s not hard to do. Learning to un-focus and allow for the sparks of light, the silent voice of … (use your filler word here: Universe, God, Angels, Source), soul-energy, and guidance is the way to go.

There is no method, no universal “From Sleeping to Enlightenment in 8 Weeks” program (like the Couch to 5k running programs), no one-size-fits-all, and no rulebook. We all have to find our way to un-focus.

And then there was silence. No chainsaw. No birds. No words.

The Conrad Family just left Budapest — the largest pop-up in the history of Rachel’s gatherings — and also a pivot point for our own family. Immersed with so many families, we had an overwhelming expansion, personal growth, and inspiration, unfolding what we are and launching rockets of new projects, explosions that seemed silent but are overwhelming.

We had to feel the deep roots of our souls, stay tuned on a delicate instrument while running and running and running. It felt like stepping up to a challenge calling our names, our full soul names — and I lean back and laugh as my mind recalls the resemblance to when we once had to run in an airport:

Our family name on the loudspeaker: FINAL CALL FOR THE CONRAD FAMILY — In my minds eye, I still seemy husband in front with the trolley, Chinese tourists flying to each side, little bits of our luggage falling off every 23 seconds, one of the kids running with half a cucumber high over his head, me with a coffee (of course) picking up what dropped, and with a kid in a sling or on my hip somehow, the teenager (our oldest at the time) so annoyed with us.

We did make it, and now the cucumber airport story is one of my favorites. We laughed so much, when we finally sat down in the aircraft. 

Surrendering to life’s bigger calls

Somehow, Budapest was that, just in a soul version. You better step up to the challenge — the universe called for us when we were there. You better understand we mean business, the angels called. You better surrender, life told us. You better know who you are and stay tuned because this will be a wild ride — were the words on the wall.

Clear as day, as soon as we arrived. 

So we did. 

Step up. Run. Move fast. Grow. Let go. Breathe.

We let go of art and culture, we let go of agenda, we let go of rules for teenagers, we let go of ego, we let go of backstories, we let go of fear, we let go of plans, we let go of false humility, we let go of control — surrendered to what is, to calling, and to love.

I need to write something about that — not as a spiritual journal, but as a concrete story of parenting three teenagers who grew up on the road and being a free spirit. It’s a different story of motherhood, and it’s not for now. I did write something about free kids while in Budapest, and it IS worth reading (if I may say so myself), so go do that here.

Wrapping up & moving on

Meanwhile, I will admit — the chainsaw was a handheld grass cutter; I now see it out my window, approaching, dust and leaves and all blowing in the wind. My feet are cold, and the next coffee is calling.

And the morning run to the dinosaurs, around the huge parking lot and back a few times, before we start the car and complete the brief road trip from Budapest to Copenhagen.