This week, I haven’t done much. I haven’t shared on Facebook, barely posted on LinkedIn, and I haven’t written anything new. Still, blog statistics malix.se show that you’ve continued to read, share, and find your way here. That makes me both moved and curious – because it means the words now live a life of their own. They travel, even when I rest from the keyboard.
It feels like a quiet confirmation. These posts all share a theme – stillness, presence, and courage to rest in what is. Maybe that’s where we meet – in the pause between the words.
Where you’re reading from
Readers from Sweden, the United States, India, Ireland, and Denmark have visited the blog this week. It’s touching to see how words written in Swedish, later translated into English, can find wings and travel further than I imagined.
Questions for you, dear reader
How do you feel when you slow down – can you rest without feeling lazy?
Have you noticed that some things grow the most when you stop pushing?
Maybe that’s where the quiet magic lives – in the space where we simply are.
Between the Lines – My Voice
The blog grows, not because I push buttons, but because I’ve allowed it to become something genuine. When you share something real – something that truly feels – it always finds its way to the right people. It’s the same in life: what’s true doesn’t need to be shouted. It just needs to exist.
AHA – Between the Lines
I’ve realized that my blog is no longer something I need to drive forward. It’s become a living room – a home where thoughts and feelings can take root. And sometimes, the greatest growth happens when I do nothing at all.
Reflection
I’m grateful. For every visit, every click, every moment you’ve paused here. I haven’t shared, marketed, or tried to push anything – yet the blog is alive. It makes me think – maybe it’s all about trust. To let what is meant to grow, grow in its own rhythm.
A warm thank you for visiting my blog and reading my words. It means more than you know.
Yesterday has already settled into history, tomorrow waits a little further ahead. But right now – this is where life happens. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
There are days when the words don’t want to come. When the body speaks louder than the mind and the world feels still, almost silent. Today is one of those days. Sometimes it feels as if both the body and the words need rest – as if stillness itself wants to speak. Maybe I need to step back from the words for a while, let the body have its say and let the lake, the wind and the silence take their place.
Ideas are not plentiful today. It feels as if the words have run out. It might be because of the pain in my neck, or simply because I have nothing new to tell.
In earlier years, this would have frightened me. The thoughts would come: have my words run out? Do I need help to find them again? But now I simply feel that maybe I need to rest from the words. Because they usually show themselves to be there, just behind the noise. They haven’t yet found their way into this morning – maybe they’ll arrive another day. Sometimes the words just need to rest in the body, to be rocked into a quiet song.
By the Lake
Yesterday morning at the lake. The jetties lay still and the world held its breath. Here, both the words can rest and the body can speak.
I went down to the lake to bathe. Only one of us “bathing sisters” swam; the rest of us stood with our hands above the water, letting our bodies cool down. I was first into the water and first back out again.
The feeling in my body after a swim is always wonderful. For a short while the pain disappears and my whole body fights to regain its warmth. Energy rushes through me and my thoughts slow down.
Even though the swims are wonderful and give me strength, I don’t think I’ll swim today. I’m thinking that I probably need to go to the health centre and get my neck sorted out. It’s been almost a week and a half now and the pain isn’t going away. Maybe I can get something stronger than Alvedon or Ipren, because right now it feels as if I can’t stand it any longer. I thought it was just a bit of neck pain, but the pain keeps changing and gives strange sensations in my body.
Reflection
In the past I would have been afraid that my words had run out. Now I think that perhaps it’s just like the body – it needs recovery to have strength again. The words aren’t resting to disappear; they’re resting to come back with new force.
AHA
It struck me today that words and the body are alike in some ways. When I give them rest, when I allow space for silence, both the words and the body find their way back into their own flow.
Between the Lines – My Voice
Between the pain, the swims and the silence lives a longing for balance. To dare to pause, to dare to be without words for a while – that is perhaps also a kind of strength. Life goes on anyway, and one day both the body and the words will awaken again.
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Final Reflection
It’s as if the body and the words work together in their own way. When one needs rest, the other carries the stillness. I think maybe this is how life tells me to slow down a little, to let the morning be quiet without rushing anything forward.
Perhaps it’s not about finding my way back to the words, but about letting them find their way back to me – when the time is right.
I live today, right now. History teaches me to rest in body and soul. Tomorrow waits out there in the future – a day I cannot live today. But what I do now can grow into something tomorrow. Right now is always, because this is where life is lived. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
Weekly statistics malix.se September 2025 become much more than numbers. They show where stillness and understanding find a home, and they remind me that what truly matters is not upward-pointing graphs but words that stay in the reader’s heart.
Moreover, Thursdays have therefore become my day to pause and notice how the words settle. Consequently, I no longer look at numbers merely for their own sake. Instead, I listen for what they tell me about you who read and about how the blog keeps growing together with us.
What the Week Whispers
This week’s weekly statistics malix.se September 2025 are therefore more like a story than a report. The figures show that many of you were drawn to everyday small wonders – the moon and the eclipse – as well as to reflections on ADHD and family life. This clearly says something about us: we long for both stillness and understanding, for words that hold both starlit skies and the kitchen table.
Photo taken by my husband, as a metaphor for the blog’s journey and for words that are free to lift and travel.
The Stillness that Carries the Story
Perhaps it is exactly this stillness and understanding that is closest to my heart, because that is where my longing lives. Yet it is often difficult to reach. Those quiet times when everything slows down give me space to stop and reflect. Maybe such moments are what we humans need more of. These small moments may not seem important at first; however, when we truly reflect on them, they reveal an undertone of meaning and, perhaps, an answer. Does that sound vague? Right now I may not even see the whole answer myself, yet I feel it is there.
When I compare this with the so-called elite blogs, the difference becomes obvious. They often chase graphs that point sharply upward, quick clicks and big numbers. For me it is quite different. I would rather one single reader takes a thought home – something that quietly changes a day – than see the figures shoot sky-high. After all, if just one sentence follows someone through their day, then my text has already done its most important work.
Moreover, I also notice that the English versions attract more readers from abroad, especially from the United States. That makes me happy – not because the reach increases in numbers, but because the words gain a larger space to live in. Nevertheless, it is not the numbers that matter most. Because it is your presence as readers that gives me the warmth to continue. Therefore, sharing this stillness with you feels especially meaningful.
What I Take with Me
I carry with me a reminder:
That small everyday moments are valuable, no matter how many clicks they bring.
That writing in two languages allows stories to meet people I have never met.
That many of you pause for the thoughtful and the slow.
Consequently, this confirms that the blog can remain a place where everyday life can breathe, and where one can simply rest for a while.
Between the Lines
This is more than statistics. In fact, it is a map of relationships – between me and you, between text and thought. I feel a quiet gratitude for writing at a pace where words can take root rather than rush by.
AHA – Between the Lines
What strikes me, as I write and look back on the week, is how easy it is to get caught up in numbers. However, my own aha-moment is that I truly do not want to live according to curves that point ever upward. What makes me happy is when someone tells me that a single sentence stayed with them, offering a thought or comfort. That is where the true value lies – not in charts or statistics but in what touches another person’s heart.
Reflection on Weekly Statistics malix.se September 2025
Photo taken by my husband, symbolising stillness, reflection and those small moments that carry meaning.
For me, weekly statistics malix.se September 2025 are a reminder that every line can mean more than a number. When I look back on the week, I am reminded that writing carries its own purpose. Therefore, following the words rather than chasing them brings both me and the reader a deeper calm. And perhaps it is exactly in that stillness that new stories quietly begin.
A Question for You
What do you take with you from the week that has passed? Perhaps a thought, a sentence, or simply the feeling of pausing for a brief moment? Please share in the comments – I read every word.
It’s Saturday. The coffee is steaming, and the house is quiet. Because of that, I find myself listening inward. There is nothing I have to do right now – yet, there is something I want to do. The words are whispering. A post is on its way. I do not yet know what it will be about. However, I already know it wants to be written. And, of course, it wants to be written by me.
A Quiet Saturday Reflection
Today is one of those days when I simply listen. I listen to the sound of the keyboard, but also to the cat lying next to me, and to something inside me that is moving slowly – yet clearly. As a result, I begin to think about tomorrow’s post, the one that will be written by me. At the same time, I want it to land with you, the reader. Yet I also realize that I cannot know exactly how it will land with you – or what you might carry with you afterward.
I imagine that tomorrow’s post will grow out of just this – out of stillness, out of the pause.
A Letter, Perhaps?
Perhaps it will turn into a letter to someone I miss. Or, on the other hand, it might become a thought about why Sundays sometimes feel empty – and other times, sacred. Maybe I will write about love, the kind that no longer has room in relationships. Or perhaps it will end up somewhere else entirely – somewhere everyday, somewhere you might recognize yourself in.
When the Time Is Right
We will see. The words will come when they are ready. That moment arrives when I have untangled the thoughts and found the right feeling – the one that allows the words to simply spill out of me. That is when time stands still, and I step into my writing bubble. Eventually, that bubble will lead me to the finished post.
Often, that is exactly how my posts are born. Afterwards, when the piece is complete, I realize that an hour or two has passed without me noticing – and I have been living entirely in writing time.
Callout
What do Saturdays usually feel like for you? Are they a moment of rest – or just a short pause before the next demands?
Reflection – A Quiet Saturday Reflection
Some posts are born out of chaos. Others are born out of silence. This one is born out of waiting. And waiting, after all, is also a place.
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”Yesterday has already settled into history, tomorrow waits further ahead. But right now – this is where life is happening.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
It doesn’t matter that I do not know yet. I write anyway, listening to the thoughts that begin to form. And it is in that listening that I find my way home to myself.
Today we’re heading out with our little LVL^2. There’s a pleasant feeling in my body – a sense of well-earned rest. Maybe it’s because the laundry baskets are empty. That doesn’t happen often. I don’t know how many loads I did yesterday, but it turned into a full laundry day. And still, we managed to fit in a swim.
Not the refreshing, cold dip I often long for. The lake at home was warm – almost body temperature. I didn’t even feel cold getting in. But the kids enjoyed it – and so did I. Even though I was in the water almost as long as they were, I still felt warm when I got out. But I also felt grateful. Swimming together is its own kind of quiet luxury. Though mostly, I just swam on my own.
Have you ever felt that? When life is overflowing with things to do, but still feels strangely empty? Maybe those small moments – a swim, an empty laundry basket – are where life happens most clearly.
Thirty kilometers in blazing sun
Later in the morning, my brother and his daughter arrived. They had biked all the way from Uddevalla – 30 kilometers in blazing sunshine. The temperature reached 27–30 degrees. I’m impressed. Also, a little worried. I would’ve passed out halfway.
But my brother has always been determined. He once biked all the way to Gothenburg. I suppose it runs in the family – because when our grandfather was young, he and his brothers used to cycle from Gothenburg to Uddevalla every weekend. They worked until 1 PM on Saturdays, then hopped on their bikes to spend Sunday with their parents. Would anyone do that today? I doubt it. These days, people train for the sake of training – not to visit their parents.
Do you think we’ve become too comfortable? Or are we just showing love in different ways today?
A pancake worth remembering
After the swim, I got the idea to make a gluten-free oven pancake. I’ve tried many times before – but it’s never really turned out right. That fluffy, firm texture has always been missing. But yesterday… it worked.
I found a recipe from Det glutenfria köket (The Gluten-Free Kitchen) and made a double batch. I left out the bacon since we were having it with ice cream. The pancake turned out exactly the way I hoped. We ate it with queen’s jam and vanilla ice cream. The kids devoured it like they’d never seen food before. And I… I just sat there, enjoying the fact that I pulled it off. It had that soft, fluffy texture – just like I remember from my mother’s kitchen.
Recipe – Gluten-Free Oven Pancake
You’ll need: – 4 eggs – 3 dl gluten-free flour mix (like Finax Red or Semper Mix) – 4 dl milk – 1 tsp psyllium husk – 1 tsp baking powder – A pinch of salt – 1 pack of bacon or smoked ham (optional)
How to make it:
Preheat oven to 220°C (428°F).
Whisk a bit more than half of the milk together with flour mix, psyllium husk, baking powder, and salt.
Add eggs one at a time while whisking.
Pour in the rest of the milk. Let the batter sit for 10 minutes.
If using bacon – dice and pre-bake it in the baking dish for 10 minutes.
Pour the batter into the dish and bake for 30–40 minutes in the center of the oven.
Serve with jam and ice cream – and a cup of coffee if you like.
Evening with cheese, crackers, and card games
Later that evening, my daughter and her partner came by. She had called earlier and asked if we could have cheese and crackers. I said yes right away. There’s something about those kinds of evenings – simple, yet deeply meaningful. We sat out on the patio playing cards until the dark slowly settled in. I wasn’t exactly a champion at the games, but I did win with my laughter – and my “fult ord”.
(Now, I don’t actually say a lot of bad words. I say “fult ord” – which literally means “bad word.” The boys at work thought that was hilarious and joked that whenever I said it, they’d mentally insert an actual swear word. But after a few months, they all started saying “fult ord” too. It became our thing.)
Have you ever felt that someone is doing something just to ease your pain? It’s beautiful – but also fragile. What happens when we realize we need to carry our own grief?
But in the middle of all that warmth and joy, a thought crept in. One I’ve been carrying for a while. I don’t want my daughter to come just because our son doesn’t. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to fill a void or be a comfort. That emptiness – that’s ours to deal with.
I’ve spoken to her about these thoughts. And I hope she comes to us because she truly wants to – not out of guilt or responsibility for something she can’t fix.
And yet… I’m so grateful that she does come. That we have these evenings. Together.
Thoughts on faith – and a question from my neighbor
Before I end, I want to share a short clip from my neighbor’s YouTube channel. She makes sweet little educational films for children – but sometimes, she speaks to us grown-ups too. Today she asks: Can we live without religion?
I don’t know. I think many people in Sweden live without God in the traditional sense. But I believe we all still believe – in something. Karma, nature, kindness, purpose. I believe goodness creates more goodness – that kind acts ripple out into the world.
Faith has always been part of humanity. People have always needed to believe in something bigger – a reason to keep going. Our ancestors had gods long before priests came. Vikings, cave dwellers, everyone had their form of belief.
As for me – I go to church once a year. On Christmas Eve. For the songs, for the peace. I wouldn’t call myself religious. But maybe I am, in my own way.
Do you need something bigger to believe in? What holds your thoughts when the world feels too large – or too empty?
Reflection
This was a day full of sun, swimming, food, family and thoughts. A day where the heat pressed down, but my heart opened. A day that tasted like pancake, smelled of sun-warmed skin – and left something to quietly ponder.
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