Freya von Bulow
5 min readJun 22, 2021



My body is changing.

It starts to yield to gravity.

What the fuck am I saying …?

My body has always yielded to gravity.

Every body does.

Law of nature.

That’s why I don’t float lonely in space.

Well, we do as a collective but that’s beside the point.

I always felt gravity more.

Because I always felt heavy.

My mom called it big boned.

Always bigger than my peers.

Which is normal considering that I have African blood in me.

There has to be shape somewhere.

But having been brought up in Northern Europe, where a small butt and tits was/is the beauty standard, I was always gonna fail that mark.

So I constantly and half heartedly (half arsedly) and, mind you therefore unsuccessfully, went on a long string of diets.

Nothing worked because my mind wasn’t there.


It didn’t feel right.

Isn’t it curious that one can sustain a diet for about 3 days and then the motivation drastically goes downhill?

5 days was my maximum and then my will would collapse.

Every time.

Like clockwork.

It was unsustainable.

And you know why?

Because I wasn’t supposed to diet.


That’s why.

There was nothing wrong with my body.

What was wrong was the attention I was giving it.

Giving gravitas to it.

Making it heavy.

Heavy in the head, heavy in the manifestation.

That’s how it works.

Constantly paying attention.

To my food intake.

To how I look and that look relates to others.

To nutritional value of food or lack of.

In a nutshell the concept that food can be both good and bad for you.

Who determines that?

So called science (facts) and marketing (make believe).

The truth is there are no facts.

No laws of health.

It is the attention you give it.

The belief you hold.

That food can have an impact on the body.

Negative and positive.

It goes both ways.

It’s really interesting.

The first time is finally was truly happy with my body was when I came to Amsterdam 4 years ago.

And had little money.

Choosing food to eat was not a thing of what I fancied but what I could afford.

There was the mind shift.

If I could afford it, it didn’t matter if it was healthy or not.

Sorry, that’s not entirely true.

The belief that eating KFC every day would keep me slim and healthy is not quite there yet.

But it’s possible.

Because it is only a belief.

(Yet again, I couldn’t afford KFC every day, shit is expensive, that’s why I didn’t buy.)

What was crucial was the shift in attention.

Food became unimportant.

It was simply there to sustain myself in the cheapest possible way.

Question: have you ever entered a supermarket simply with the premise to sustain yourself?


Try it sometime.

Just for the experience.

The difference is astounding.

We need very little.

Yet we give it so much attention.

Inflated attention.

Way out of fucking balance.

Ok, back to my body.

Which is deflating.

My skin starts to sack.


Interesting that the minute I was finally super happy with my body … one glorious year or so … the next challenge is in place.


I tried to ignore it.

But it is staring me in the face.

Started with my boobs.

Big trigger.

I always loved my boobs.

Now they are slapping me.


Probably the single biggest insecurity I have about my body right now.

A trigger I cannot ignore.

Sagging boobs are horrible and I’ve been dreaming of getting them ‘fixed’ for a while now.

Gravity is my enemy.

And no matter how many exercises I do (which is none because they are annoying) I don’t think there are any muscles in there anyway.

Muscles don’t offset skin.

Most men I’m currently dating are younger than me so the boob thing really bothers me.

(Although it doesn’t seem to bother them at all)


Is it only my attention?


Ok so now what?


I want to disregard gravity.

Be weightless.

If I was without gravity, my tits would be fine, right?

My ass too.

The skin under my arms as well.

So how can I live with less gravity?

By giving it less gravity.

Less attention.

Not taking it seriously.

Truly not being bothered.

Being weightless in my mind.

About my body.

It’s a challenge, I realised.

A huge one.

To do with the concept of age.

The belief that with age things go wrong.

That with age there is deterioration.

Gravity becomes an enemy.

Gravity = grave = grave

And isn’t it interesting that when it seems that gravity has complete hold over our body, i.e. when we cannot lift a finger anymore i.e. when we’re dead .. that then we become completely weightless?

Full circle?

Why wait that long and go through a arduous crumbling stage in order to finally experience weightlessness?

Freedom of gravity?

Why not start being weightless now?

Why not?

There is no fucking reason why not.

It’s just a choice.


Change of mind.

So what would a weightless person do? How would a weightless person think?

How would a weightless person feel?

Do I know a weightless person?

I need to study them.

Act like them.

Think like them.

My beautiful friend R is like that.

She rarely sits still.

She’s like a butterfly.

Physically and mentally.

Her movements are effortless.

Her head is flighty.

I want to think effortlessly.

I want to move effortlessly.


By giving attention to how I move.

And adjust my movements accordingly.

Give attention to how I think.

And change my thoughts accordingly.

How does a butterfly think?

Probably not at all.

It moves effortless on instinct.

That’s what I want to do.

But I also want to be aware …

Aware of overthinking.



I will try not to think today.

See what happens.

Giving attention.

And taking it away.


That’s the key.

To everything.

You’re welcome.



Freya von Bulow

AMSTERDAM DIARIES 2020+ Daily Philosopher Notes — Alchemy of Words. Creative Direction & Life Concept Creator