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BeYou101, Skagabraut 35, Akranes (2026)

23/08/2026

What Was Never Spoken 🤍
In my family, there were stories we never told.
Not because they weren’t true,
but because they were too true to hold.
We stopped speaking it,
but the body kept remembering. 🕊️
What is not spoken does not die.
It changes shape.
A fear I cannot trace.
A quiet knowing — I do not belong here.
I feel the echo.
In my chest. In my relationships.
And then I started to feel it more deeply. 🌱
What in me is asking to be seen now? ✨
Some of it is mine.
Some of it is older than me.
I don’t need to know the whole history
to change how I carry it.
I don’t rewrite the past.
I just stop giving the past the same future. 🕯️
For her, the little girl in me.
And for anyone who has felt the echo. 🤍
Have you ever felt an echo you couldn’t explain? 👇
youarealwaysbecoming
BeYou101 AOK

21/08/2026

Í mörg ár reyndi ég að passa inn í kassa sem var ekki minn.
Svo fann ég lyklinn. Þakklætislykill sem gengur að hjartanu í gegnum tilfinningar. Með emerald fyrir hjartað og ruby fyrir rótina.

22 er dagurinn minn. 22 er árið mitt. 11 er vegurinn minn.
Master Built, Not Mass Produced.

Þú ert ekki að endurtaka sama lesson-ið af því þú ert slæm í að læra. Þú ert að endurtaka það af því þú ert ekki að lifa eftir þinni tölu.

BeYou101 er að muna hver þú ert.
DM: MY CODE fyrir Sálarkort.
Made by AOK

03/08/2026

The Loop, According To Me

Neuroscience called, babe.
Said my brain is basically a scrapbook
of everything I already know.
No wonder my life keeps looking like a rerun
I didn’t even like the first time.

Same alarm.
Same people.
Same coffee, same commute, same conversation where I say
“I’m really going to change this time”
while my neurons roll their eyes and press play again.

Same circuits firing, every day.
Same thoughts making same choices
making same messes
making same feelings I then try to journal away.
Wash, rinse, repeat until enlightenment or exhaustion.

Whichever comes first.
Turns out my environment is a very pushy DJ.
My job says, “remember who you are here?”
My relationship says, “remember how we fight here?”
My kitchen, my street, my inbox —
all of them whispering, “stay the same, love, it’s safer.”

And I listened!
I got the new job with the old mind.
New city, same carry-on baggage.
New love, same PowerPoint presentation of my triggers.

I rearranged the furniture of my life
and wondered why I still felt like me.
But here’s the whitty plot twist they don’t put on Instagram:

To change, I have to think thoughts my living room has never heard before.
Feel feelings my calendar didn’t approve.
Build brain pathways to a place I’ve never actually been.

I have to close my eyes and lie to my nervous system
so beautifully, so vividly,
that it believes it.
That it finally says, “oh, we’re there now?”

I stopped letting the outside write the inside.
Now I wake up before the world can tell me who I am.
Before the phone. Before the to-do list. Before the old program boots up.

I sit there, stubborn, in a feeling that doesn’t match my reality yet —
and I stay long enough for my brain to get uncomfortable
and then, miraculously, to get used to it.

Same thoughts, same life — yeah, I got the memo.
Now I’m breaking the loop not by hoping,
but by being someone my old reality has never met before.

Let the fun begin ☀️❤️✨

✍🏻 AOK
🎨 AI generated

30/06/2026

The Frame We Outgrow.

Our past arrives as an unseen architect, quietly building the frame through which we experience everything,
the inherited lens of old stories, family silences, and survival patterns that taught us to shrink,
fold, and dim ourselves to feel safe or acceptable.

Pain lives in both body and mind,
the chest that learned to brace, the belly that still tightens, the looping thoughts that whisper be smaller, be quieter, earn your place by disappearing.
True healing asks us to turn toward the ache with courage,
to feel it fully, let the body tremble and speak, allow the tears and breath and honest words to move what’s been stored for years.
We release it from muscle and memory alike until the old weight finally drains away.

Only then does the frame begin to loosen.
We were never meant to hide our light just to fit inside someone else’s narrow design.
Now we step beyond it,
no longer afraid of our own power to transform our lives from the inside out.
We become the artists of our becoming, painting new horizons with the colors we once buried.

This is the healing.
This is how we come home to ourselves.
This is how we live, unhidden, unafraid, and finally Free.

29/06/2026

Late for Dinner
I was the little girl who found her way to his house
drawn by the scent of wood shavings and freshly cut grass.
My best friend’s grandfather shaped a ring for me
from something ordinary,
making me feel chosen in an ordinary world.
He taught me to carve wood slowly, listening to its grain,
to cut the lawn in straight, proud lines,
and told stories that opened doors inside me I never knew existed.
Had a garden full of delicious fresh strawberries.
One day he was house-sitting for friends.
It was almost time for dinner,
Mother would be calling, plates set on the table.
I should have turned toward home.
But I could not say no
to the man who had given me the ring.
I stepped into the quiet.
What happened there
shattered something wordless inside me.
I walked home carrying the ring like a burning secret,
a shame that bloomed from nowhere,
as if I had broken myself.
I arrived late. Scolded for the delay,
not for the wounds no one could see.
I swallowed the truth with the cold meal,
letting it sink heavy in my stomach.
Days later I whispered it to my cousin.
She laughed.
And I learned that silence felt safer.
The grown-ups had warned us once,
“Don’t go there so often.”
They sensed something was wrong in the air.
Yet the silence proved stronger than any warning.
Years later, when word came of his death,
the dam broke. Memories surged up, unbidden
memories that had quietly coloured every lens through which I saw life, and relationships
trust, touch, stories, and myself.
I told my mother and my sisters.
“Uff,” she sighed heartbroken yet unaware of the impact of her words “It was a good thing you didn’t say sooner.
Your father would have killed him.”
And I understood, her worries were valid…
I had protected them all
by carrying it alone.
Later I learned there were more than just me,
others who had walked the same shadowed path.
Silence does no one any good.
It lets the wrong things grow in the dark,
and colours the lens through which you experience the whole of life, love and self.
making you warier, more distant, anxious, smaller inside your own story.
I am returning the shame.
It was never mine to keep.
I will not carry it anymore, into the next chapter.

01/05/2026

You are always becoming—
a river that never stills,
carving canyons from the stones
you choose to let touch your skin.

Every glance, every voice, every ghost
you invite across the threshold
presses its fingerprint into your clay.
You shape, and you are shaped.

You bled for this version of you—
built a garden from the ash of old fires,
drew borders with trembling hands,
said no until the word became holy.

Now the garden needs a gate.
Not iron out of fear,
but wisdom forged in the fire
that once nearly swallowed you whole.

One careless text, one “just for the plot” night,
one familiar chaos you swear you’ve
outgrown—
and the river bends backward.

The peace you planted starts to wilt.
The future you glimpsed slips between fingers
like smoke you thought you could hold.
You thought the healed self was armor.

It is not.
It is a flame—
bright, alive, and hungry for fuel.
Feed it the wrong wind
and it forgets its own name.

So stand at the gate like a quiet guardian.
Exclusivity is not arrogance;
it is devotion.
It is the sacred duty
of staying who you fought to become.

Let the old energies knock.
Let them whisper through the cracks.
You do not owe them entry.
You owe the garden your loyalty—
every root, every bloom, every dawn
you almost lost.

You are always becoming.
The only question left
is whether you will become
the one who keeps the garden
or the one who lets it burn
for the sake of a Tuesday
that felt a little too quiet.

Guard what you built.
It cost you everything.
Make sure it was worth it.
👩🏻‍🌾❤️🔥

01/05/2026

This one isn’t about pushing harder through willpower and fear of failure.
It’s a gentle invitation to replace rigid discipline (that fight-or-flight pressure in your nervous system) with devotion, a deep, loving “I choose this” energy that comes from the heart.
When you fall, there’s no punishment or shame; just a soft hand pulling you back into flow. Science shows this shift moves your body from stress into a calm, sustainable state where consistency happens naturally…

Spiritually, it’s freedom,
your path was never meant to be a cold machine – it’s yours, alive, curved, and beautiful. You’re already becoming the version of you that glows… just feel it and let devotion steer. ❤️

Devotion. (The Path Is Yours)

They preached grind harder, chain the will tight
discipline’s whip under flickering light.
Pressure in the chest, “or else” in the veins,
one slip and the whole vision scatters like rain.

But the real fire isn’t force, it’s a quiet choice,
love at the source, a softer voice.
Devotion calls you back with a patient hand,
no shame in the stumble, just “welcome home” again.

Feel the future glowing deep in your bones,
not checklists, not rules—just the you who’s already home.
The path was never rigid, cold, or mechanic
it was yours, beautiful, flowing, serene.

Drop the iron grip, let devotion take the wheel.
You’re already becoming…

just feel what you feel. 🫶🏻

20/03/2026

Smá Samantekt á „Tunglið talar við sjálfa sig“ –

„Tunglið talar við sjálfa sig“ er innileg einræða þar sem Tunglið gengur eftir endalausri Hrafntinnubraut í næturmyrkrinu.

Það talar til konunnar sem ber gömul tár og úlfa í hálsi sínum. Tunglið gefur aðeins ljós til að sýna form, aldrei fullan sannleikann, og faðmar bæði hina saklausu heimskingja og hina hörðu lifendur inni í sama hjartanu…

Meginboðskapurinn er fallegur

„Þú varst aldrei villt, elskan. Þú varst aðeins að verða mótuð af löngum, þolinmóðum höndum þíns eigin verðandi...“

Ljóðið fangar kjarna Tarot-kortsins Tunglið – blekkingar, ótta, innsæi og innri umbreytingu –
❤️✨❤️

lookwithinyourself itallstartswithyou loveyourself poetry themoon

07/03/2026

Þessi útgáfa af Temperance sýnir kortið sem hugleiðingu innra jafnvægis — engil (eða innri rödd) sem stendur á mörkum vatns og lands, einn fótur í straumnum, hinn á steini.
Hún hellir vatni á milli tveggja bolla án þess að missa dropa — tákn um nákvæma blöndun andstæðna án þess að eyða neinu eða halda of mikið eftir.
Ljóðið er hljóðlátt samtal hennar við sjálfa sig (eða við barnið sem enn býr í brjóstinu): „Af hverju flýtir þú þér að nefna sársaukann? Af hverju hræðist þú hléið þar sem ekkert er enn ákveðið?“
Innra barnið óttast að jafnvægi þýði dauði eldsins, að verða bara „polite line drawn through chaos“ — falleg en dauð lína í gegnum ringulreiðina, sem eyðir villimennskunni sem einu sinni öskraði.
En Temperance svarar: Jafnvægi er ekki dauði eldsins. Það er að læra að brenna hægt nóg til að loginn muni eftir eigin formi.
Hún hellir áfram: skýrt í skýjað, kalt í heitt, tár dagsins í fyrir andardrátt morgundagsins. Enginn hraði. Engillinn kemur ekki með því að skella dyrum — hún stígur inn um rifuna sem við skiljum eftir þegar við hættum loksins að berjast við taktinn sem þegar hreyfir sig í okkur.

Í stuttu máli snýst þessi túlkun um þolinmóða blöndun andstæðna (tilfinningar og skynsemi, fortíð og framtíð, eld og vatn), innri frið sem kemur ekki af skyndilegum breytingum heldur smáu, vísvitandi flæði. Það er ekki um að slökkva villimennskuna eða þvinga allt í fullkomið jafnvægi — heldur um að læra að brenna hægt, hlusta á innri taktinn, skilja að sönn sátt kemur af því að leyfa hlutunum að blandast án þess að flýta sér eða hræðast hléin. Það er mjúkur, lækandi ferill sjálfsuppgötvunar: „Stay. Mix. Become.“
Þessi útgáfa er mjög kvenleg, innlifandi og lækandi, ólík ströngum „moderation“-túlkunum — hún leggur áherslu á að jafnvægi sé lifandi dans, ekki dauð regla. 🌿💜

poetry create lookwithinyourself itallstartswithyou empowerwomen

04/02/2026

8. Strength
“Unyielding courage in softness, where compassion tames the wild within.”

Strength Roars to Herself
I kneel, yes—

but only because I choose the ground
that lets me meet the lion eye to eye.
Not as prey.
Not as tamer.
As equal.
As sovereign.

Hello, fierce one,

the one who still apologizes
for the volume of her own heartbeat.
Stop shrinking your roar
to fit someone else’s comfort.

That lion inside you?
He isn’t here to be broken.
He’s here to remind you how vast your power sounds
when you finally let it speak.

I used to think strength meant
never letting the jaws come close.

Now I know:
real power is letting them open wide
and still standing tall enough to stroke the teeth
and say,
“I see you.
I honor you.
And I am not afraid.

”My hands are steady,
not because they never shake,
but because I decided shaking is allowed
and still I remain.

The lion feels it—
the unapologetic calm that says:
“You may rage.
I will meet every flame with ocean.
You may claw.
I will cradle the wound until it remembers it is holy.

”I wear no armor
because I am the armor.
I carry no chain
because freedom is what we both deserve.

We lie down together now—
wild heart beside wild heart—
not in surrender, but in recognition:

we are the same unbreakable thing
wearing different skins.

So rise, beloved.
Let the growl become your crown.
Let the fury become your wings.

You are not here to manage the beast—
you are here to become
the woman who walks with a lion at her side
and calls it home.

This is your strength:
not the absence of fear, but the thunderous decision to love yourself
so completely
that fear bows and calls you Queen.

Now walk.
Head high.
Heart wide.
The world is waiting for the sound
of you
finally claiming every roaring inch

of who you are.
✨🦁✨

BeYou101

23/08/2026

21/08/2026

03/08/2026

30/06/2026

29/06/2026

01/05/2026

01/05/2026

20/03/2026

07/03/2026

04/02/2026

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