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BeYou101, Skagabraut 35, Akranes (2026)

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.
✨🦁✨

03/02/2026

The Chariot:
The poem takes the traditional meaning of The Chariot—triumph through willpower, mastery over opposing forces, forward momentum, and victory—and turns it inside out to reveal the hidden cost and inner struggle behind that polished success.
The charioteer grips the reins so tightly her hands bleed, not from external battle, but from the desperate need to stay in control. She fears that if she ever stops moving, lets the chariot rest, or loosens her hold, she will vanish, fall apart, or finally be caught by the loneliness and self-doubt she’s been outrunning. The two sphinxes (symbolizing duality: past vs. future, darkness vs. light, destruction vs. aspiration) pull in opposite directions, while she—the small, trembling voice between them—quietly begs not to have to keep choosing which part of herself gets to survive.
The journey has armored her so completely that even her reflection feels like someone else’s achievement. The crooked crown shows she never learned how to receive glory without flinching. Every lurch forward is secretly an apology to the frightened child inside who still believes that if she just goes fast enough, the emptiness won’t catch her.
The turning point comes when she begins to loosen her grip—not in defeat, but in trust. She realizes the sphinxes were never tearing her apart; they were the only way she knew how to be held together. The real victory isn’t domination or endless motion. It’s arriving—bleeding, wobbling, breathing, finally soft enough—as herself.

29/01/2026

The Empress.

“Nature’s bounty flourishes, love nurtures life, and beauty blooms in every heart.”

The Empress Whispers to Herself
I sit in this garden that keeps growing me,
thighs soft against the earth,
hands open like forgotten bowls
catching whatever light decides to fall.

Hello, tender one,
the one who still believes
she must earn the honey in her own veins.
Look how the roses keep blooming
without apology, without proof of worth.

You ask me why the body remembers
every small hunger it was taught to hide.

I have no clean answer —
only the slow pulse beneath my breast that says:
you were never meant to be small enough
to fit inside someone else’s permission.

The wheat bows heavy around me,
not because it is tired, but because ripeness is heavy.

I carry the same weight in my belly —
not a child, perhaps,
but the promise of something
that insists on arriving
in its own unhurried season.

I used to think creation meant noise:
shouting seeds into soil, demanding they hurry.

Now I know
the deepest growing happens
when I am quiet enough to hear the roots
decide where to reach next.

My crown is twelve stars
because time is not a line —
it is a circle I keep stepping inside,
again and again,
learning to mother the woman I once abandoned
in order to be loved.
So come closer, frightened heart.
Lay your head here,
in the curve where my shoulder meets sky.
There is room.
There has always been room.

The milk of me is not finite.
It flows the moment
I stop asking if I deserve to pour.
I am not waiting to become.
I am already the abundance
I spent years trying to deserve.

And you —
you are the soft animal
finally allowed to stop running
and simply
ripen.

itallstartswithyou create painting healing poetry

27/01/2026

The Magician ✨❤️🪄❤️✨. “With a spark of intention, reality bends to will, a symphony of creation unfolds.”
The Magician Speaks to Herself
I stand at the table where four tools wait like obedient hounds,
one for each corner of what-is-possible,
and I am the fifth — the spark between them,
the hand that refuses to choose just one.

Listen, quiet one,
the one still hiding her palms in her sleeves,
afraid the light will show the calluses,
the scorch marks, the ink stains from rewriting fate at 3 a.m.

You think power is something borrowed.
I tell you: it is made.
Every time you point at the sky and say “there”
a star remembers its name.

The wand is not magic.
It is attention with a spine.
The cup is not a gift.
It is desire that learned to hold still.
The sword is not violence.
It is clarity that stopped apologizing.
The coin is not wealth.
It is commitment wearing practical shoes.

I am the gesture that says
“I will not wait for permission from the universe.”
I am the moment certainty puts on lipstick
and walks into the room like she owns the architecture.

Darling hesitant heart,
stop asking if you’re allowed to be this bright.
The lemniscate above my head is not decoration —
it is the shape your doubt makes
when it finally exhales and becomes infinity.

Pick up the tools. They are not heavier than fear.
Arrange them. They will not bite unless you believe they might.

Speak. The first word is always the loudest spell.
I have already turned lead into dawn a thousand times inside this chest.
You have too — you just called it surviving.
Now watch me: I lift my hand.
Reality blushes. It knows what comes next.

So come closer,
small trembling architect of your own life.
We’re about to make something
that didn’t exist until we dared to want it.

Ready?
The table is set.
The world is listening.

And we —
we are the verb
that begins every miracle.

24/01/2026

Ég skrifaði ljóðabók, draumur sem ég haft lengi og oft byrjað á en aldrei klárað fyrr en núna.

Ég nota spil mjög mikið til að spegla sjálfa mig, ekki bara tarot, allavegana spil…

Ljóðabokin er öll skrifuð á ensku, einfaldlega af því mér finnst auðvelara að finna orðin, en hver veit, kannski á ég eftir að snúa þeim yfir a íslensku líka 😅

Þessi íhugandi ljóð túlkuð útfrá Stóru Arcana Tarot spilunum voru bornin af minni eigin leið um tilfinningaleg lægðir og augnablik sjálfsuppgötvunar, leiðsöguð af tímalausri visku spjaldanna og fléttuð með myndum af málverkunum mínum. Hvert Major Arcana spjaldið varð ljós í myrkrinu, þögull félagi sem hjálpaði mér að horfast í augu við fortíðina, gömul mynstur og trúr með samúð frekar en ótta. Í gegnum þau lærði ég að lækning er sjaldan bein lína; Hún er ríkt, lifandi teppi saumað úr sársauka, von, seiglu og náð.

Tarot spilin fyrir mér eru svo miklu meira en myndir á spilum eða spá inní framtíðina, þau eru dásamlegir speglar og leiðir fyrir umbreytingu.

Þetta safn er mín auðmjúka gjöf—Má segja skrá yfir pílagrímferð einnar sálar (minnar) í átt að lækningu og sjálfs viðurkenningu, og róleg áminning um að við erum öll að ganga svipaðar leiðir í uppgötvun… ❤️

11/11/2025

The Heart of Unity

He is the head, the guiding light,
She is the backbone, strong and right.
Together they weave a sacred thread,
Binding love where dreams are spread.

The body’s strength, the vision’s grace,
A partnership, perfectly in place.
If the head neglects the base,
The whole can fall, lost in space.

Respect and love, the foundation’s core,
A happy wife, a happy life—yet more,
For harmony’s song is crafted tight,
When two souls walk in shared light.

Guard your love, protect your realm,
Let pride and ego not overwhelm.
Cherish each other, learn, forgive,
For love is the reason we truly live.

Watch who enters, what’s true, what’s foe,
Build your kingdom, let your love grow.
Kings and Queens, stand tall and strong,
Their legacy written in love’s lifelong song.

Rise together, stand as one,
Let your union shine like the sun.
In unity, find your power,
A love that blooms, a shining flower.

✨🎨☯️✨

.e.a.l

23/08/2025

I did it 💪🏻🏅✨💖

On my 50 Birthday that I spent in bed, unable to walk due to hypertension in my psoas and a torn thigh muscle I made a promise to myself to run 10K in the Reykjavik Marathon.
At that time I didn’t know who I’d be supporting by me running but Hvatningarstöð SKB í Reykjavíkurmaraþoni, Snorri Thors, Jóna Elísabet Ottesen, Hugarafl were all absolouty 💯 worthy causes only one asked so that’s who I ran for officially and so proudly too 🫶🏻

I ran for them all, all amazing individuals and organizations that I am deeply honored and humbled to know both personally and professionally ❣️❣️❣️

But First and foremost I ran for myself 💪🏻✨
My kids and family, and my Rock
♈️👑⛰️✨

BeYou101

01/05/2026

01/05/2026

20/03/2026

07/03/2026

04/02/2026

03/02/2026

29/01/2026

27/01/2026

24/01/2026

11/11/2025

23/08/2025

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