mini course: the lantern wich helps you remember
This isn’t a course to teach you new techniques.
It’s a return to the track that was always yours.
The one you’ve known in glimpses — but forgotten how to ride.
The Lantern is a signal.
A hum. A glow. A remembering.
A practical tool to bring your awareness home.
2.
The Three Anchors of the Lantern
The Hum (in the Feet)
The signal that you’re on your original life track.
When the hum is present, movement becomes effortless.
It’s not about pushing — it’s about listening.
Your awareness drops into the soles, and the tracks begin to clear themselves.
🔥 The Amber (in the Chest)
The seat of your self-love.
When you rest your awareness here, the heart glows.
You don’t try to create — you become the current.
The body breathes itself. The train moves with life.
🧠 The Still Mind (View from the Conductor’s Seat)
When the feet hum and the chest glows, the mind no longer scrambles.
The conductor sees the next three steps — not by thinking,
but by syncing with the track ahead.
3.
What You’ll Learn
How to locate and amplify the hum
How to light the ember and hold awareness there
How to shift from passenger to conductor
How to recognize derailment and return
How to ride real-time presence through daily life
4.
Who This Is For
You already know.
You’ve felt those moments of clarity —
when life lined up and you glowed.
But then you fall off. Again and again.
This course is your blueprint to stay on.
Not through force.
Through remembrance.
5.
What’s Included
3 audio journeys (Hum, Ember, Conductor)
3 embodiment practices
Journal pages + sketches
Optional 1-on-1 reflection call (via AndersKiezen.nl)
Lifetime access + future updates
the three anchors: 1. the hum in the feet
Chapter 1: The Hum in the Feet
How the Body Tells You You’re on Track
What is the Hum?
The hum is not a metaphor.
It is a real, physical sensation — like electricity running through your soles.
It appears when your train (your body) is riding your own, original life track.
The track your essence laid long before your mind came online.
You can’t think your way to the hum.
You have to feel it.
It’s how the body says: Yes. This way. Keep going.
The Role of the Conductor (You)
When you’re a passenger, life happens to you.
When you’re the conductor, you listen to the hum.
You hold part of your awareness in your body — not just your mind.
The train moves by itself. You don’t need to push.
You only need to feel where the rails are clear.
The hum is your guide.
When the Hum Disappears
You lose the hum when:
You shift to someone else’s track (like saying “yes” from guilt or habit)
You follow old contracts (be nice, don’t bother others, be liked)
You try to control the outcome or rush ahead in time
You try to think your way to the right track
Example:
You were in your hum, writing.
Then you got stuck in Discord, trying to force an image upload.
The body tightened.
Then Leila needed a ride.
You said “yes,” but your system said “wait.”
The hum disappeared.
Your hands got cold.
Your conductor seat was empty.
How to Find the Hum Again
Drop awareness into the soles of your feet.
Breathe.
Let the thoughts come, but don’t follow them.
Let the body feel the current again.
Return to the track. Gently.
how to:
You can’t think your way into the hum.
But you can *return* to it.
This simple practice helps you shift from mind to body. From passenger to conductor.
**Try this now:**
1. **Sit down.**
Let the body rest, without collapsing. Feel the spine lengthen.
2. **Close your eyes (or lower your gaze).**
Let the world soften. Let it be held.
3. **Bring your awareness into your feet.**
Not with your thoughts — with your attention.
Feel the soles resting against the floor.
Notice the temperature. The texture. The pressure.
4. **Breathe into your feet.**
Imagine breath moving down through your legs, out the soles.
With each exhale, soften more. Let go of trying.
5. **Listen.**
You might feel tingling. Buzzing. A subtle pulse.
That’s the hum.
6. **Stay here for a few minutes.**
Don’t chase it. Don’t narrate it.
Just *be* here.
**☼ Note:** The hum often disappears when your awareness jumps into time — when you start planning, remembering, or worrying.
Return to the feet. Let presence rebuild the track beneath you.
the glowing amber
🔶
The Amber (in the Chest)
This is the fire that doesn’t burn out.
The ember lives in your chest — quiet, warm, steady.
You don’t have to light it. It’s already glowing.
But you do have to notice it.
It’s the place in you that remembers:
You don’t have to prove anything.
You don’t have to earn love.
You are love.
Even when you forget.
The ember glows when you stop performing and start being.
When your awareness gently rests in your heart
instead of spinning in your head.
This is not about becoming someone better.
It’s about becoming someone real.
the still mind
The Still Mind (View from the Conductor Seat)
When your feet hum and your chest glows,
the mind stops trying to figure it all out.
It stops spinning in circles and starts seeing.
The still mind isn’t blank — it’s quiet.
It doesn’t chase. It doesn’t fight.
It simply knows, because it’s riding with the track.
When awareness rests in the soles and the chest,
you return to the conductor seat.
From here, you don’t need to think three steps ahead.
You feel them ahead.
You see them unfold, not because you planned them,
but because you’re synced with the rail.
This is how presence sees the future —
not by predicting it, but by moving with it.
🔸
Intro
The amber in the chest is not a metaphor.
It’s a living presence.
It glows when you remember who you are —
Not with your mind, but with your body.
It is love.
Not the kind you chase. The kind you become.
It’s the moment you’re not trying to do anything right.
You’re simply here. And your own presence is enough.
🔸
Try this now:
Place a hand over your chest.
Feel the skin, the warmth, the weight.
Don’t rush it.
Close your eyes.
Breathe into your heart —
not the organ, but the whole chest space.
Notice what’s already there.
Not what you should feel.
What is actually there?
Tingling, tightness, warmth, numbness?
Stay.
Let your awareness rest like a feather on a glowing coal.
No pushing. No expecting. Just presence.
Whisper to yourself:
“You don’t have to do anything. You’re already loved.”
Listen.
When the ember lights, it feels like soft golden fire.
Not excitement. Deep peace. A quiet joy.
🔸
Notes for Conductors:
The ember glows brightest when you’re not performing.
That’s why it fades when you start trying to prove, impress, fix, or explain.
Like the hum, the ember disappears when you slip into other people’s tracks.
This is not a feeling you chase.
It’s a home you return to, again and again.
🔄 To Return to the Conductor’s Seat
Sometimes you realize you’ve slipped back into the passenger seat.
You’re reacting, trying to control the scenery, doubting the ride.
This is not wrong — it just means it’s time to return.
To return is simple — but not always easy.
Start by noticing the signs:
Your mind is racing or overthinking.
Your body feels disconnected, tight, or numb.
You feel like you’ve “lost the thread” or forgotten what mattered.
Then gently guide yourself back.
Drop awareness into the soles of your feet.
Even just 10%. Let your body breathe itself.
Let the feet hum with aliveness.
Place your attention in the chest.
If the ember is still glowing, you’ll feel warmth or expansion.
If it’s gone quiet, whisper your own name inside.
Remember why you ride this track.
Let the mind slow down.
You don’t need to know.
You just need to be here — present with the track beneath you.
You don’t have to push.
The train is already moving.
You just have to return to the conductor’s seat.
Sometimes you realize you’ve slipped back into the passenger seat.
You’re reacting, trying to control the scenery, doubting the ride.
This is not wrong — it just means it’s time to return.
And returning doesn’t start with effort.
It starts with a choice.
Step one is this:
💨 Just drop everything.
Let go of needing to know, fix, control, or continue.
Say: “Not this. Not now. I return.”
The moment you drop everything,
you fall back into yourself.
You land.
From there, you can softly move:
Into the soles of your feet.
Let the aliveness return. Let the hum rise.
Into the chest.
If the ember is dimmed, just be with it. Whisper your name inside.
Let the mind slow.
The conductor doesn’t steer by thinking.
It listens. And the track answers.
You don’t have to push.
The train is already moving.
Just return. Just ride.
🚦 Feeling the Track Ahead
This isn’t something you think.
It’s something you ride.
It happens when your feet hum.
When the ember in your chest glows.
When the mind falls quiet.
Suddenly, the next step reveals itself.
Not with fanfare — but with flow.
You’ve felt this before:
🎵 Singing along to a song —
you just know when to start.
There’s no counting. Your body enters the beat before the beat arrives.
🚗 Driving a familiar road —
your hands turn before you “decide” to turn.
The body steers itself with knowing.
🧽 Cleaning the house —
you stop thinking and start moving.
Not rushed — paced.
Your body flows from object to object, and when you look up…
the space is cleared.
🍰 Baking a cake —
it begins with butter,
and then without planning,
step by step, it unfolds.
The whole process completes itself in one seamless arc.
That’s the conductor’s vision.
Not with the eyes, but with the inner timing of alignment.
You feel the track ahead.
And because you’re on it,
the train glides.
This feeling is not rare. It’s natural. When you build the three anchors into your day, the track keeps revealing itself. It’s not magic. From the passengers vieuw it looks like magic. It’s remembrance.
keeping the lantern lit
The Lantern isn’t something you hold.It’s something you become.You don’t need more training.You don’t need new skills.You need to remember what it feels likewhen your whole instrument is aligned.Feet humming.Chest glowing.Mind still.That’s your original life track.This course is not a map.It’s a mirror.Every step you take from here on can be chosen from the conductor’s seat. And when you forget,just feel for the hum.It always knows the way back
