Super motivation loading

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

As the title says, there really is a new era loading.
It is absolutely unbelievable to feel this happening, and it’s so welcome and I am so grateful!
Who wouldn’t be, if you suddenly feel that surge of energy. A deep desire to make any dream you ever had come true and have the type of motivation built to last.
The type that does not sway and that you have known was buried deep within, all your life. And that it was just a matter of time before it would reveal itself.
And there it is, in all its shining glory, and even more impressive than you thought it would be.

I mean:  Wow!

However, what I would like to discuss, and for the n-th time so I hope there’s still some capacity left with you to hear this, is WHY, HOW and OMG NOT AGAIN and IT S ALWAYS THE SAME THING AND WHY WON’T I REMEMBER.
And also:
“Should I not feel some kind of shame around this being that frickin’ shallow?”

Because Sara; It was a man. 

And it made me realize that I so still not have this knowledge, which is probably already past its 12.5 year anniversary by now, ingrained into myself.
I still make the same mistake.
I still think there is somehow something to be planned, to be figured out, in order for me to reach my goals. Or even, that I have goals.
And hobbies. Hobbies, Sara? Do you know what the first thing was that I did?
I pulled up his astrology chart, which I could do because he was a celebrity.

Now for context; This is the year I have pat myself on the back for getting more serious with astrology.
And I would probably have kept doing that, had I not become aware that my first instinct with him, was to pull up his chart.

Because for me there is no getting serious with astrology, Sara.
Having someone’s birth chart was new to me, I had never done that because in real life you do not have those data.

However what astrology had been doing, in retrospect, was bringing me closer to men; Past, present and future.
Through knowing their sun signs, but more importantly, because astrology made me understand myself better.
What I needed or how I interacted.
And sometimes it also made it easier to understand what had happened within a certain dynamic with a man too.

So recap – and I know I’ve written this same conclusion to you at least five times in the past 8 years:
Everything is always, about a man.

And vice versa:
When I am not motivated and not feeling it? Not making progress and am super-stuck? It’s simply because there isn’t a man attached to that area.

I’m like a little bunny who wants to chase the carrot. I’m not going to move, unless there is someone that I imagine myself (sometimes unconsciously) getting closer to by studying, doing or achieving the thing.

I need men to be my muses to inspire me.
Exactly like male writers and artists have needed female muses.

There’s just no way this dry, boring 3D is ever going to get anything done with me (or I for it) unless I ve tied it to a bigger cause, and that cause is a man.
A muse.

Except there was one exception: I have acknowledged that socially, I really do need to be embedded in a real life job and local context.
Only working for yourself online, is torture.

Maybe not when you are married, have a family, and your whole life is one big group chat and an endless stream of appeal, requests and expectations.
Then, having your own online business is your time away. In a way, it’s rest. It’s a boundary you are allowed to pull up.

But being alone, working alone just wasn’t for me.
And I’ve known that ever since late 2018, when I went all in on writing under this name.
Within weeks, I was cured.

So for years I’ve known that a normal job is required, and I could share even more very practical thoughts on this. All valid, and I am still standing by them.

But now there’s also the perspective of:
If the universe can send you this man? Exactly the right person, at exactly the right location, behaving in the precise way unlocking your full power and potential If the Universe can do this – And, we now know it can, because it just did so;

Then what else, can the Universe do?

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Sigma Birthday

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

I am writing you from a place of heavily mixed feelings.

Part of me is exhilarated to have cracked the code to her life, and knows what she’s doing.

But there is another part of me that has become painfully aware of a thick layer of trauma around things that are very close to home, and would theoretically need clearing out before this new life starts.
They currently revolve around being bullied by patriarchy on the moments I resisted being socialized. And that not being a closed chapter, but like a war that will never be won.
I have been on the cusp of social exile for as long as I can remember.

And that was week 2’s drama, after traumatic memories from childhood returning last week. And I will never share them because I have decided earlier this year that I will never do emotional labor for someone else, but that also means that no one else ever has to do mine.
I recently cried with a friend and – although there was nothing about it that could have been prevented or that was inappropriate in any way – it was the moment I realized the contrast between that one moment of vulnerability and no longer giving anything personal in all my other relationships.

The deeper layers in me are, and I would say “finally”, completely closed off. They are no longer taking part of my daily interactions, and this has been a strategic and conscious choice.

And yes, that’s a trauma response.
And also: It’s the best I can do.
There’s not going to be a part two, where I’m letting people in.

And also!
As sort of a mid-post PS, real connection at a pure 5D energetic level is still very much possible. I’m still present there, I live there. 
The sealed gates are only felt at earth level, which is not where we’re going to have any conversation of meaning anyway.
I am now ready to be the warrior who never sets foot outside the house without her armor.
Trusting people with the real me has proven to be a very unsatisfactory experience and I am, again “finally”, dressing for the occasion. 

So no details on week 2’s realizations on social exile, nor on week 1 of childhood memories, but I mention the sequence here to illustrate that I was disappointed when after properly, although grudgingly, finding a way to deal with those very unwelcome childhood memories in week 1, I had systemic social trauma coming for me in week 2.
It was the point when I realized:
This is never gonna stop.

Either I’m gonna do the work I am here to do, or I am going to waste my life figuring out what is haunting me, on repeat, like I’m in the Tartarus.
*in line with earlier explained policies around not sharing stressful stories, specifics about Tartaric torture have been omitted*

I can heal and work through traumatic layers of my past, and spend my precious weekends on it, or I can cut my losses and say;
Goodbye trauma.
I see you, I know you, and you’re welcome to take your seat in the back, but you’re not driving this bus and you’re not giving directions.

So there is all that, Sara.
An awareness that I went through so much excruciating stuff, and that the past tense there is definitely not a real-life-depiction of truth.
Past tense is a statement.
It’s a declaration that I decide those things are in the past.
Or, as I often see with Tarot readings on Instagram where viewers are encouraged to leave a message in the comments (but often do so without needing any encouragement);
“I claim this message.”

It’s over, it’s done, and after this acknowledgement that I enter this birthday carrying the scars of my past, fresh cuts as well as wounds that will never heal, we now get to the good part;
The Sigma part from the title.
Which is not a new thing, I ve written about it multiple times, but after a year or eighteen months of detours I’m circling back to the label because I find it the easiest and the most clear one.

A Sigma is someone who lives solitary and isn’t part of the emotional infrastructure of society. There’s different interpretations, but an agreed upon aspect seems to be that they are disciplined, have a plan in life and execute it.
A Sigma operates according to their own set of internalized values.

All things considered, it makes this birthday a mixed bag.

The acknowledgement of deeper wounds than I ever realized I was carrying.
The exhilarating choice to be Sigma, and Sigma only.
And the comfort that there is at least one friend with whom I can still cry.

All things considered, I claim this birthday.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Men. Yoga. Writing.

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

This is mostly a part II to the last letter I wrote you, where I came to the conclusion that my desire to be a yoga  teacher had been genuine, and that I was going to rebuild teaching it, in some shape or form.
And I did, rebuild.

Shortly after writing you I started an online space, where I can build a body of work. In the upcoming years I do not see myself having opportunity to teach classes in real life, but I will be able to hang on to my teaching skills this way, as well as being able to build towards having a global audience.
Something teaching locally would never be able to do, or if or when it does, it will be on top of online visibility anyway.
So the online option suits me well.

However, once I had successfully brought this online, it definitely took a while for the excitement to kick in, I have to say.
And when it did it the online yoga space was not a major part of it, but a minor one. A seed, not something in full bloom.

And as I’m writing this, days after the big breakthrough, even the excitement of that epiphany, the ecstasy of finally having life figured out, has entirely left me.
Which should come as no surprise because I’m writing this on Friday afternoon, which has become notoriously unproductive.
I want to squeeze in everything I did not get done over the week, when I don’t have the energy for any of those things.
I’m having trouble even keeping my eyes open, and just took a nap lying straight on the carpet, and it took tremendous willpower to end it after 15 minutes.

All in all, the festive mood of having it all figured out, and looking forward to writing it all down in this letter to you, has definitely left.
But I remember the parts, and how they went together.
So let’s go.

First of all, a recap of the yoga epiphany that started it all.
The one I wrote you about, last month, when the epiphany was that I realized that although the profession of being a yoga teacher had proven to come with some baked-in financial challenges that I was ultimately no longer able to outsmart or outrun;
It had been a legitimate choice, and one that dated back to the previous century.

That it had not worked out did not mean it had been the wrong choice. 
It had been my original profession, and practical concerns should not overwrite that.

So that’s all stuff I wrote last time, but what it inspired me to do is to take stock of other original things, that had been present from the very beginning.
Because if my turn of the century choice had been to become a yoga teacher, then what had been the rest of my original blueprint?

I identified music/ hardrock, but also Madonna.
Music was and is present in my life. It’s not something that suddenly falls out or something. Those areas do not require active management.

I suddenly remember one of the first emails I wrote you, in 2018, a drawing of a tree symbolizing what I was about.
The roots of the tree were Madonna (50%) and Men (50%). And the trunk and branches were split in two as well, with half being writing and half being yoga.
So I think that is one of the things that has not changed, because it was pretty much what I landed on this time as well.

That yoga had indeed been genuine, and truly me (half of the tree), but that the other two were writing (the other half) and men (the roots).
Madonna has taken a backseat, for non-specific nor dramatic reasons.
If I had to guess, I’d say it is because I integrated and internalized what she stood for to me. Like I said, nothing particularly dramatic or anything.

So since our last call and the redemption of yoga, I am looking for ways to integrate those two other areas back into my life, writing and men.
The writing, and in particular the body of work I created as Lauren Harteveld in the past. It’s something I’m not altogether clear on how to move it forward, but somehow being clear that Writing (or Publishing) is on my To Do or To Tackle list, is already clarity in its own way.

And the Men!
Oh, the men…..
Well, just like with Madonna, I think I integrated much of what they meant to me. And that, fortunately, a lot of what they stood for can be achieved by myself. And I also mean that punned 😉

But at the same time Men give my life its true meaning.
And I know how tone-deaf that is, in a time when women are finally, one-by-one, standing up, refusing to keep carrying the load of being society’s unpaid therapists and caretakers, and be the emotional-support laborer of the relationship or family.
No more, Sara!
Hell hath no fury like a woman no longer cleaning up after patriarchy.

So, yes, there is all that, and expect to see me at the barricades.
And at the same time?
Once we’re clear that from now on, we are all gonna clean up after ourselves and respect the sacred space of our conversation, our games, union and frankly just of society at large?

We are definitely ready to rock!
Because 
I love men so very very much.

Their defensive silences sealing off emotional depths the size of the Mariana trench, no one will ever set foot in.
Their two-punch jokes, that rely on you asking a predictable question.
Their sexual omnivorous nature, where the first flavor of what they do not like is yet to be invented.
I like their enthusiasm, their risk-taking.
I like how incredibly low maintenance they are, like dandelions happily sprouting from the cracked pavement and happy with a pizza and a beer.

I love their bodies, all shapes and sizes. They are like an entirely different species to me, so foreign. Like they hold an energy or ingredient I do not have myself, but on which my survival will depend.
The key to life but in a non-verbal way.

So again! There is all that!
And yet, still not done.
Because there is also a more quiet, and far less obvious thing men “bring” me, but that has nothing to do with them.

Because I am an entirely different person, when I’m dating.
Someone who takes excellent care of her body, and her house!
Two things that will become how I make my “Men Roots” operational.
And I’m nowhere there, just to be clear, but like with the humble yoga platform beginnings, and the At Least Now I Know I Got To Publish The Book beginning;
There is comfort in knowing what to do.
Taking care of my body and house, is a start.

Now naturally, I look forward to growing beyond these humble beginnings.
From an empty new online yoga space into a large online yoga empire;
A neglected collection of writings to a pristine collection of hardcover Lauren Harteveld books;
And from the mundane start of taking better care of my house and body,  to a bells and whistles sexual renaissance.

But these seeds of my new life have been planted, and the soil is being attended to.
The dandelions will be there, as they’ve always felt welcome.
And the rest will take a bit longer.

All in all, the old 2018 tree still proudly stands.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

The Sweetest Life

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

The best thing would be if I could write you I’ve got my dream man, my dream job, my dream business, my dream life and, why not, the dream body where I elegantly float through life as a 1991 yogini.

But what would be the next best thing?
How about: I can feel it’s all there, and I am absolutely stoked?

I can’t really pin down when it happened, which is a shame because then I’d know how to recreate it. On the plus side, I can’t hoard or hold on to it for dear life either, because I have no idea what it is.
So there are benefits to being clueless why life suddenly feels so good.

The closest thing I can compare it to is one of those early memes where a cute looking sticky man with large eyes carries a big jar with a label that says Happiness. And they say, in respons to something I forgot:
“Thank you, I made it myself.”

Without downplaying all the generous and unwavering support I got from so many people, including you because you have been with me ever since the walls came crumbling down in 2018, the closest thing I can say about this dangerously high level of bliss is;
“Thanks. I made it myself.”

Only to then be unable to resist and analyze it after all, even though I don’t have a clue what I’m looking for.

We start, of course, with the men.
Because I’m the only feminist still insisting her world should revolve around men, despite having the cognitive skills to reason that obviously, it should not.

The general reason why the men in my life have started to feel so good, is because since 2024 I’ve started falling in love again. There’s movement in an area that had fallen completely out of order over the years.
And I’ll leave it up to the imagination which area that is, because I like being mysterious.

But more than facts or details, it’s just the entire vibe of my love life that has changed. For a long time, I’ve had the endgame in mind to be able to feel (big apology for the theatrical language) like an absolute Goddess, fully owning my sexuality but completely independent of if I have lovers or not.
And that is exactly what has happened.

It’s best explained as a feeling of sovereignty.
There is so much, that is no longer on the table.
And if you caught the sexual reference, then that was punned. The Goddess demands a proper bed.

Simply put, sovereignty means I’m not going to share my life in any traditional, or non-traditional, sense.

As soon as I wrote it out, the word sovereignty also gave me the key to what the jar of happiness is made of. Fortunately, because I do not feel like analyzing every area of happiness. Just analyzing it by my changed relationship to men, already gave away the answer.

Sovereignty is the reason I’m now suddenly carrying around this big jar of happiness, looking forward to lovers, career, business and the whole rest of my life, because I got everything handled and whatever happens on top of that will spark even more joy.
Give more satisfaction, interaction, meaning and purpose.

Every area of my life, I’ve already determined how I relate to it, and what my version is.
Including estimating the maximum price I am willing to pay to live this independently.

It’s like I engineered something I always believed was up to chance, until it was within my control.

There is an old riddle about two guards, guarding two doors. One leads to heaven and one leads to hell. The guard in front of hell will always lie, and the one in front of heaven will always tell you the truth.
What question should you ask, to know which door to take?

The riddle teaches us how to navigate uncertainty, by using what little certainty we do have.
But prior to that, there’s an even bigger message;
Only walk through gates if you know exactly where they lead to.

In particular, if they’re guarded.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

An Armed Mission

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

I imagine having to sit them down, the men in my life. Plural sounding overly optimistic here, but I need this approach, this policy or battleplan if you will, to be neutral, non-personal and fully functional, regardless of how often I need it.
Which could range anywhere between “never” and becoming the new standard of all my relationships. 

I hope the honesty gives the talk a certain intimacy. But know it will also carry the weight of my loneliness. It is a moment of confirmation that I chose, and accept its many consequences.

I imagine what I say to be something like:
“I understand your desire for more commitment, but I cannot offer that. 
I want to mean something for the world at large and I can’t do that when I’m tied to someone else.”

This will all be true, but the warmth in my voice will reveal this is the rehearsed story. And that it’s now up to them to ask and dig deeper.
Or choose to leave it here. 

An Armed Mission.

I landed on the word mission, because that’s how I see it;
And it’s a way of living, not a defined end point. 
But defending or accomplishing a purposeful way of living requires just as much discernment, as having a defined end point, the way a classical mission would.

And I have thought this through, and have found the concept of friendship to be the safest and most beneficial one to strive for.
But it will not be what men expect of a woman when they court her, nor is it what they will want to give when looking for something casual.

My unisex friendship-model will be too light or too much.
And yet, it’s what will have to do.

The word armed before mission, comes from armed peace, a term used during the cold war to describe the absence of open conflict, but reflect the deep distrust of one another.

Where mission meant I am here to establish a way of living that can mean something for the world at large.
Or, put differently, where I can be of meaning to the world at large, through how I live;
Armed, stands for me being prepared to defend it.

But where the cold war (an “armed peace”, comparable to my armed mission) was ended by world leaders talking to one another, I cannot end mine.
Because what I distrust is not represented by one person, it is the underlying constructs, thought patterns, and systems.

There is no point in talking to one person about toxic masculinity, because patriarchy is the very water in which we swim.

Recently, specific details on systemic and normalized violence against women surfaced, which Dutch media did not cover and I’m glad they didn’t although I don’t believe that means we don’t have the same problem here.
And after the first shock I immediately recovered thinking;
“Why am I still upset hearing this?”
Because it went directly against a promise I had made to myself years ago.

I have witnessed how surprise about what is being done to you, severely undermines your ability to respond and strategize. Being surprised by aggression, which is usually the case if the perpetrator is someone you know, immobilizes you and traumatizes you.
It becomes a double blow to your system; The violence you experienced plus the lack of trust in your own capabilities to assess people’s true nature correctly.

I vowed I would do everything in my power, to never let that happen to me.
That I would assess every situation, every person, and rather be wrong avoiding someone, or blocking someone out, than to be a victim after trusting someone.
Trust became something that had to be earned, yet was still never really given.

Since then, my stance has become both milder as well as more firmly rooted.
Milder, because I no longer focus on individual accountability.
And stronger, because rooted in the conviction that society’s global systems and cultures enable and encourages violence and set us up against one another.

Instead of asking: “Can this person be trusted?”
I scan: “What is the group, larger culture, or partnership, this person is part of?”
I make a risk assessment about how toxic it could get, how easily I will be sacrificed, but even if it all comes out clear I know for a fact they cannot afford to sacrifice their belonging there.
Not because they’re bad people, but because not belonging to these structures  (of social groups, of government, of religion, of family, of your employer paying you) can kill you.

Over the years I have understood no one can be trusted, and why. And I’m okay with that. I would have chosen belonging too, if that had been an option.

“This is my last life on earth,” I say, strategically bypassing a discussion about what happens after death.
“Perhaps it is my only life, I don’t know.
Either way, I’m not coming back.
All I know is that I have to get this one right.
Do anything I can, to live a worthy life.

But I would love for you to be my friend.”

And hope they say yes.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

A Safe Space for Her

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

I cannot let this story end, the way I was willing to just minutes ago.
So bear with me, because I won’t let this die on us.

Lauren deserves her happy end.
Even though I have no idea how to give her one.

But the previous version reminded me of the role of the last fairy in the story of Cinderella. She had not yet made her wish. And that was why, after the evil witch had cast a spell that Cinderella would die on her 18th birthday;
She, the final fairy, could soften it to Cinderella sleeping for a 100 years.
Not dying.

Only in my story I was the evil witch who had decided that in order to survive patriarchy for the upcoming decades, I had to fully step into my masculinity;
And Lauren, the femme lover, had to die.

And I was also the last fairy who said:
“We will build her a safe space. Lauren will live, we will make sure of that.”

And now I am Lauren Harteveld the writer who says:
“That is not good enough. We need to save her. And by save I mean that her best life should not be behind her. It should be ahead.”
And I paused before I added:
“And by best life, I mean best sex life.”

And good fairy-me and evil witch-me said:
“Duh.”

And that was how, minutes before writing this post, I changed my mind, even though I have been convinced for weeks I would go the masculine road.
And that the moments when I still wore beige (my Lauren color), the moments I felt love for a man or thought of myself as a sexual being, that they were nothing more than final flare-ups of denial.
I thought I could push through because this was the only way.

You know everything that happened, and how it absolutely broke me. Or to be more precise: It rebirthed me into this badass superhero who did not feel anything anymore.
The moments I step into that version of me, there is a complete isolation.
And it doesn’t even feel bad, it feels enlightened.
Because when you are emotionally detached, you are no longer bothered by the heaviness of life. Life becomes serene, funny, playful. But there is a complete disconnect because despite the word “lightheartedness” having the word heart in it: My personal lightheartedness did not have my heart in it.

So even though the plan took care of all the moving bits and pieces, by saving Lauren as well as providing a safe, coherent and doable strategy as to who I would be the second half of my life;
I couldn’t do it.

The day felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, dreading the bungy jump that suddenly felt like a death verdict.
The part about actually saving Lauren, the feminine part of myself that I cultivated so patiently over so very many years, no longer seemed so certain.
Something could go wrong. In particular if at any point in time I would start to believe I actually was this powerful masculine energy.

And even if it did work;
Having Lauren boxed up in a safe room couldn’t possibly be enough.
A Lauren the Lover who revives herself at 6 PM, and/ or in the rare hours I don’t work nor socialize?
It’s all great in theory – or not great but realistic and probably the best decision any woman can make regardless of her age – but it also felt completely destructive to even think of shoving her away like that.
She has already has been shoved to the side by her lover;
If I would do this I would be doing the same to “her” as what he has done, and leave her just like he had: By no longer making space for her. 

Maybe that’s the end of this story, pointing to the road I should be taking. The other way. To stop cultivating the bodyguard, the masculine side of me, even though I have successfully been pushing that for so very long now.
And even longer if I count the first iterations of that, 8, 10 years ago.

Maybe it should be the other way around.
Instead of saving Lauren the Lover in a climate controlled room, where she can rejuvenate her female energy after 6 PM and cherish her soft feminine ways;
That instead, I should have an emergency outfit for moments that absolutely need to be met in my masculine energy.
That Lauren the Lover is my default, and regardless if I ever get a new lover.

It feels vulnerable and risky, but all things considering, I think Lauren should lead.

I honestly feel calmer and more grounded than I have all day. And that’s my answer then, right there.

It’s a yes.
Duh.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Angel Love

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

In retrospect, it was probably to-be-expected, after my previous message to you.
That, of course, I would go on digging in the past, for men who reached my heart or more, after I had set up my new “system” to “handle” with men who were interested in me.
Neither system nor handle are exactly the right word, but it will have to do.

Either way access to me seems to be under control and I no longer need to be involved.
There is plenty of time to look back and reminisce.

Which could explain why someone I had not thought about – not like this! – came up again. He’s also the unnamed love interest from the final paragraphs of my previous message to you.
I didn’t remember until I just reread. Apparently he was already heavily on my mind, last time we talked.

The irony is that I have had many attempts to deliberately think about him, but I never succeeded.
I tried because I thought it would relieve the burden of feeling so much for my last lover. That I could transfer it to a borderline fictional crush from the past. Only to find out it didn’t quite work that way.
Then why now?

I’m grateful and it feels just as great as I imagined it would;
But why now?
Why was I able to recreate my affection towards him, in an entirely natural way, without any effort?

And then I found the answer!
Because the man I fell in love with last year, carries the exact same energy.

Now before I dive into this, a concept I will call Angel Love, describing the ethereal yet powerful presence both him and this new man have or had, I want to preface it by comparing it to another powerful, yet entirely different energy, which is from that past lover, Mr.Big.
The stark contrast between Angel Love and Mr.Big’s love, will bring my point across more vividly.

So first Mr.Big;
Why was I so extremely crazy about him, and why did I feel so safe and nurtured even though I was only his mistress? Nothing more was offered.
The answer lies in the inviting atmosphere Mr.Big created; 
Warm, nurturing, and completely low key.
He was completely at ease, and he kept his space clean, warm in winter and he wasn’t one of those grown ups who doesn’t have any sweets or candy around.
Although I have only had good lovers and wonderful men in my bed, he was beyond a shadow of a doubt the best lover I ever had.
I could turn my whole box of kinks upside down, and he’d still know what I was hiding.
It was magnificent.

So! 
Then why on earth do I find myself romanticizing someone – two men actually, if I include the one I met last year – Why do I romanticize them when what I had with them counts as “almost nothing” to “absolutely nothing”?
Nothing but “a moment”, where we both felt it.
But moments don’t count. Not compared to living out your whole box of kinks.

Is this some Victorian romantic idea of favoring men I have done “nothing” with, over the one I was well on my way of doing “everything” with?
But fortunately, I cracked the code, and that wasn’t it.
It had nothing to do with morals of any kind.

You see, here’s the thing;
With Mr.Big, the foundation of what he offered was very much in the 3D. The material world. His wealth and demanding nature had earned him the seclusion of a luxurious condo, all to himself.
Now he was the one who got that somehow accepted in his marriage, which is quite the feat, but there was no denying that I felt so safe and taken care of, because he was first and foremost taking really good care of himself.

Mr.Big was also a man I could trust with the vulnerability of my naked body, and of being there alone in his apartment. It’s not like anyone with real estate can get into my pants, far from.
But the truth of the matter is still, that Mr.Big’s appeal, and the appeal of what he offered me, was largely a financial matter.
Privacy is as expensive as it is hot.

So if that is our baseline here;
Then what is Angel Love?
And why does it explain why I’m suddenly thinking about that man from the past?

Angel Love is the name I have given to the silence surrounding both of these men. The peace, the calm, the zone of non-interference they carry around themselves.
It’s an aura where nothing is said, because there is nothing to say. Everything they want you to know, vibrates in their field.
Which is, why are we not surprised, extremely little.

These men keep their energy fields clean, and you get the feeling they’re very intentional about it. And aware most people are too preoccupied with themselves to even notice.
That it’s a matter of principle.

They go out the door with clean, unreadable auras.

What follows is that they are no longer reliant on anything else. Not on the clothes they wear, not on the environment they’re in, not on the people who interact with them, not on owning a penthouse and being the only one with the frontdoor key, and not even on fulfilling sexual desires.
They’re energetically sovereign, nothing can touch them. Which naturally invokes the response in us, the normal people, to desperately want to touch them.

We want to pierce through that magnetic field that is their aura and see what happens. Will our hand slip into another universe?
We want to touch their skin; Is it warm like ours? Or cool, or even slightly cold as if they’re not from here? But from heaven.

It is their ethereal nature that makes them so alluring.
Not just to be with them, and to make sweet angel love, but you want to be them.
You want to be saved from this messy entanglement of being human, and float through it, just like them.

Untouchable.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
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Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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Nederlands blog:
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Marble Track of Love

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

I remember marble tracks as being  a simple wooden toy, where you drop the marble on the top track, and watch it rolling down over de diagonal slide to the right, drop to the next tier, and so on.
Until it comes out at the bottom , over a melodious staircase that makes music from the marble running over it.

But I just Googled these marble tracks, and they have gone totally next level!

No longer a uniform toy, the tracks are now built similarly to Lego. And there are boxes with sets for tracks ranging from globe-like spheres to colorful tracks connecting multiple tower constructions.

So my vision of a marble track symbolizing my love life, but one with gates that lock or open between different layers, is actually less fictional now than it was based on the toy from my youth.
That’s what I’ve been up to!
I have translated
lessons from my love life, into a system. And it is giving me wings in every other area as well. Because you could build a track for each and everyone of them.

The idea is that the tracks, not you, select potential suitors.
And to not get emotionally invested until a marble falls through, into your bed in this case.

In a way, I’ve always had a marble track in place, but it was broader than what I’m aiming for now.
But it did work.
For instance, I have never encountered bad lovers, EVER. Our arrangements have been flawed in more ways than I can count, and I have worked around tough character traits  (both theirs and mine!!) at a level I would never have managed if sex had not been the reward.
But I never had someone in my bed who was not a wonderful lover.

As sort of a mid-text PS: I do want to add that I need to be madly in love with a man, right? I mean, you could argue that the track is nothing more than me learning not to engage with people I am not madly in love with.
That I take myself through that track time and time again, knocking into gates that stay closed because I know damn well I m not in love.

But for this blogpost, I’m going to leave that part out, because it’s just not very interesting. And frankly, it’s also not what has given me this feeling of “Cool I hacked this!”
You don’t think “Cool! I hacked this!” when you decide not to engage unless deeply in love. That is not actionable enough.

But back to this marble track, which has always been there.
But now, in the 2.0 2.6 version, I no longer feel responsible for who wants to go into the maze, nor for what they encounter there.
In particular not what they encounter inside themselves. I no longer perform emotional labor and consider it part of a broader feminist package against patriarchy.

And next to me not smoothing out any hurdles, the tracks are also about things I need to have an amazing experience.
Things
like: Effort, initiative, holding space for me, attunement, and focus. It is tempting to add “clear communication”, but I really should not because I like the mystery of things being done without words.

The marble track should run in a way that it blocks anyone who will not be able to meet my new standards. 
For both our safety, really. But mostly, for my mental peace and quiet. 

The marble track has been working like a charm. And yes, it is keeping everyone out, which does not sound like much of a result.
But it is preventing me from performing emotional labor. Something I admit still having been caught up in, as recently as last year.

Meanwhile, I’ve made several attempts estimating which men from my past would have been in my life, if my boundaries had always been this strong, my standards this high.
I’ve identified four!

Two lovers would have been in my life, in much the same way as they have been. One from when I was very young, and my last lover as well. So the first and the last, really. Unchanged. If I had to psychologize it I would say those connections were so destined, they would not have been changed by any circumstance. Much less by me applying the principles of a kid’s toy.

With the majority of the men who have been in my life, there is of course really no telling if we would have done better, if I had had better standards. For many men it would have offered a challenge they’d have loved to live up to.
I can look back and think they would not have passed, but the truth is I have no idea how they would have responded. Many of them may have upped their game and could still have been in my life. And bed.

But the most interesting reflections were the ones immediately offering an entirely different picture!
A better one.
And although I said I would leave that aspect out – Yes, these were in fact men I was deeply in love with.

One was someone who broke up with me, in an incredibly messy and fucked up way. And yet I can now see that if he had had to work for my attention, he would have fought for me like a lion.
In hindsight I think he was someone who operated on the IKEA principle: The more effort he would have to put in to get it all up and running, the more attached he would be.
Had I not been the one working my ass off, he would have, and our relationship would have been entirely different.

And the final man with whom I know things would have been so much better, was someone with whom I was very much in love, but I rejected him because I was already involved. And also because my feelings for him scared me. He did not offer any stability or safety for me to hold on to.
And yet?
His energy was so clear, the connection so real;
He offered me the purest relationship gold but from a planet I had never been to. I did not recognize it.

Maybe me being so enthusiastic about the marble track never had anything to do with keeping the men out that were not putting in the work.

Maybe the reason I am so incredibly happy with this find is that I know the track will let the right one through.
Immediately.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for these letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2026* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1991 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Becoming Lauren’s Bodyguard

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

In November I wrote you a post called Becoming Lauren, which was about centering the softer, former-lover part of me.
Lauren is the name I created for myself almost two decades ago, when I started my quest to develop my love life, and in tandem with that, became a writer.

I never set out to become a writer yet it became clear from the get go I would never be able to step on the journey, let alone complete it, without becoming a writer.
Every quest requires transformation, and self-reflection is by far the most thorough as well as most autonomous way to do that. Had I not become a writer, I would have top-heavy burdened my friendships.

But now that it’s all in the past, every element surrounding Lauren Harteveld requires a review.

Do I still need that amount of reflection, now that I no longer have a sex life?
And I know for an absolute fact I will never let things get that complicated again.
But how can I keep what the past two decades brought me?

November’s post was an attempt to outline all the good Lauren brought me, and how I would want to, and need to, start designing my life more consciously in order to honor “her”, and not be burdened by work.

Little by little, and definitely with a generous amount of trial and error, the past six weeks have been about acting accordingly.
About giving “Lauren”, the soft sensual writer side of me who as a rule wants nothing to do with the outside world unless it’s really really good and sweet;
About giving her more space.

But what it made clear is that contrary to what I thought, the person I need to be focusing on in order to reach this space and atmosphere where Lauren can thrive is not Lauren;
It is her bodyguard.

It’s like that quote you often give me on creating Art being about creating the space where Art become inevitable.
I “only” need to create the space where Lauren becomes inevitable.
The space/ the life, where “of course” my inner-Lauren would want to be!

I need to be her body guard, protector, guardian angel, beneficiary, Landlady, Housekeeping and accountant so that she can do the only thing she wants to do:
Enjoy life in all its softness and sweetness.

Since my final letter to you I have been coming to terms with that, and that therefor the focus is not on Lauren.
It’s on giving Bodyguard-me full authority to
keep people out, to set boundaries, control access, check identities, run background checks and to never let anyone interfere with Lauren before full clearance.

Even past interactions are no guarantee you will immediately be granted access;
The situation we are in, will be vetted every single time.
Access All Areas-passes will expire immediately after the event.

Now that I know this, which is only a recent insight, life has become incredibly simple, because for starters, the bodyguard only works 40h/week.
Any interaction needs to be within that time, because without her bodyguard Lauren does not even pick up her phone.

The only productive or worldly thing Lauren does, is writing. First thing AM, in her bathing robe, and letting it lavishly flow into her day, taking as many hours as she needs.

And her bodyguard still fast asleep.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for my letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2025* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 1990 diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
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Becoming Lauren

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.

The good news is that my work under my real name, is taking shape.
And I love it so much.
The past couple of months I have streamlined my content planning, my wardrobe, my personas, and life has been throwing me boons instead of curveballs.
The right people are crossing my path, I’ve been incredibly lucky.

And yet….
Yet something is seriously off.
And because everything professional is better than it has ever been, I know the problem is not there. It is within. 
I’m losing my real myself, Lauren the writer.

It has been a blessing that, because I have been a writer under this alter ego for such a long time, I found who I truly was many years ago.
It made my “real life” easier. Because underneath I knew who I was, even though most people didn’t see me that way, and didn’t know I was a diary writer.

And I expected that once my career in this real world was just as well-thought through and fitted me the same way writing as Lauren Harteveld fitted me –
My life would feel even better.
That n
ow, everything was aligned and as it should be.
Except apparently, it isn’t.

It feels like a brick has come loose in the road. Or an iron lit covering a manhole has shifted.
That something that used to be fixed, even when the rest was falling to pieces, has come loose.
And it won’t go away by basking in my newfound happiness in the workfield.
This, is deeper.

And I think it’s “Lauren”, this writer persona that is also my truest self.
The person I chose to become two decades ago, when I was solid in my work, and was willing to pick up some personal projects such as being single.
Which I had never tried.

I thought I’d do some stupid things, regret most of it, and probably even regretting breaking free like that and be lonely when I know I could have stayed with my boyfriend.
I was so willing to be disappointed.
But I wasn’t.

I loved being single, and it also made me a writer.
And I became Lauren.

But now with the rest of my life firing on all cylinders, I feel she’s slipping away…

I need to make her a priority once again.
Because I’m nowhere without her.

I have become her.

.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog for my letters to Sara, the series Harteveld 2025* and the Behind the Scenes of my year 2000 (going on 1990) diary.
The subscription button is on this page, most likely on the top right.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:
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