Orimligt. This is a Swedish I word I don’t quite know how to translate. Literally it means unreasonable; “o” being negating and “rimligt” meaning reasonable. But unreasonable doesn’t do the word justice. It’s bigger than that. Something that’s Orimligt is not only unreasonable, it’s unimaginable. Incomprehensible. The closest I can come to translating it is Unlivewithable. Today I had an unlivewithable experience. I’ve had many in my life but today, I was on the outside looking in. Two of our retreat participants, a mother and daughter, just suffered a huge, unexpected loss. I call their room but don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to come over?” I ask. The voice on the other line is shaking and I hear wailing in the background. “Yes”. So I go. Then I freeze. They are in the middle of trauma – and I’m “coming over”? There is nothing I can do to make this better. There are no words to speak or actions to take that will diminish their pain. I remember finding out Andrea died and I realize, this is what it was like for the people surrounding me that day. Here I am, two years later, wondering how to act. Before I’m able to answer my own question I’ve arrived at their door. I open it, and I realize all there is is love. Love is all I can do. I can hold them. Cry with them. Let them talk, or scream, or be quiet, or fall apart, or keep it together, or all of the above in less than a minute – there is no right or wrong way to grieve. It’s not my pain but I feel it intensely. I imagine me and my mother on a yoga retreat somewhere, finding out that… I can’t. It’s unlivewithable. Somehow we get them on a plane. We hug goodbye and I know they won’t remember the details of this day at all. My heart breaks in a thousand pieces just thinking of what’s ahead for this family. The pain. The empty space. The pain. The pain. The pain. The moment I get home I collapse on the floor. This is how I process – I let myself feel. It’s the only way. It takes a good ten minutes before I finally stop crying. I close my eyes and listen to my heart beating. I don't know much about this life but I know this: I’m glad I’m alive. I hope you are, too. Don’t take any of it for granted.

yoga_girlさん(@yoga_girl)が投稿した動画 -

レイチェル・ブレイセンのインスタグラム(yoga_girl) - 4月21日 13時39分


Orimligt. This is a Swedish I word I don’t quite know how to translate. Literally it means unreasonable; “o” being negating and “rimligt” meaning reasonable. But unreasonable doesn’t do the word justice. It’s bigger than that. Something that’s Orimligt is not only unreasonable, it’s unimaginable. Incomprehensible. The closest I can come to translating it is Unlivewithable.
Today I had an unlivewithable experience. I’ve had many in my life but today, I was on the outside looking in. Two of our retreat participants, a mother and daughter, just suffered a huge, unexpected loss. I call their room but don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to come over?” I ask. The voice on the other line is shaking and I hear wailing in the background. “Yes”. So I go. Then I freeze. They are in the middle of trauma – and I’m “coming over”? There is nothing I can do to make this better. There are no words to speak or actions to take that will diminish their pain. I remember finding out Andrea died and I realize, this is what it was like for the people surrounding me that day. Here I am, two years later, wondering how to act. Before I’m able to answer my own question I’ve arrived at their door. I open it, and I realize

all there is

is love.

Love is all I can do. I can hold them. Cry with them. Let them talk, or scream, or be quiet, or fall apart, or keep it together, or all of the above in less than a minute – there is no right or wrong way to grieve. It’s not my pain but I feel it intensely. I imagine me and my mother on a yoga retreat somewhere, finding out that… I can’t. It’s unlivewithable.

Somehow we get them on a plane. We hug goodbye and I know they won’t remember the details of this day at all. My heart breaks in a thousand pieces just thinking of what’s ahead for this family. The pain. The empty space. The pain. The pain. The pain.

The moment I get home I collapse on the floor. This is how I process – I let myself feel. It’s the only way. It takes a good ten minutes before I finally stop crying. I close my eyes and listen to my heart beating. I don't know much about this life but I know this: I’m glad I’m alive. I hope you are, too.

Don’t take any of it for granted.


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