After I have listened to all songs and covers from the now well-known and acclaimed musical La La Land that were available on YouTube and I have watched bits and pieces of trailers I finally went to cinema to see the musical. “The film that has faith that a boy, a girl, a bench and a plum-coloured sunrise are still capable of working their magic” (Robbie Collin). It worked. (Please do not read further if you intend to watch the movie).
Emma told us today with a sad voice that she still has not received a certificate at school for doing something well. She mentioned a short story she wrote about Christmas and the teacher said it was well written, however she still did not get the magic paper. I do not care about these rewards. Simply because I do not believe in the whole concept of giving special rewards for what I consider to be usual work at school. I also know from my own experience that these little incentives create only comparison, feelings of inferiority and fear of failure. Continue reading
We were returning from Christmas holidays 2 years ago and on the way back home, in the car I made up my mind and decided to enrol in sophrology studies. I did not have any special goal, any expectations but most of all I was totally unsure how I would cope with highly specific studies in French. I also imagined all people who would be much more competent than me. But…the subject intrigued me for a long time and I felt the eagerness to learn something new, something that discloses the functioning of mind and body and that it will do me a good. After the first lecture I wrote “Stillness”because at that time my whole being was in a state of surrendering to life as such. As if suddenly the quiet of the room and falling of the snow were telling me it is perfectly all right to be there among the others who were brought to join the very varied group for different reasons and goals. Continue reading
“Pain whatever its character and its origin comprises sensation, emotion, behaviour but most of all a story. Rewrite the story first and see what comes next. The understanding of the role of the storyteller is crucial for allowing the healing to take place. Therefore do not waist the energy to make the others to understand for they have their own story to understand first. Put your energy into knowing yourself and listening to your needs. For the pain hurts your narcissism so in order to heal you owe to yourself love and compassion.” A.B. Continue reading
Every year, every month, each day of our life is different, though it consists of the very same things we are used to doing. The festivities, the commemoration days, the holiday periods are there so we can change the mundane and at the same time they build a path of certain stability, something that waits for us always at the same time of the year. The mixture of repetition and change. Change that implies curiosity, expectation, thrill, pleasure but also fear of losing, of not getting there or going backwards. Stability that implies peace, effortlessness, pleasure, feeling of control but also fear of stagnation, boredom, spiritual death. I always used to love November for all this – the ambiguity and the opposites brought into harmony. The rainy and dark days and the warm light of candles and street lamps. The cool air and the hot tea after a long walk. The fog in the morning and the distant sun at the lunch time. The cold lakes we enjoyed in the summer that still welcome ducks and swans for a splash. The colourful leaves that dance their last dance with the wind and then land quietly on the ground in order to decay. The silence of emptiness at the cemeteries and the hope for eternal. The remembering and letting go. The sadness but not despair. The fireplace and cracking of the wood that diminishes in front of your eyes. The warmth that stays after it is gone. The films with happy endings and the life stories with or without happy endings. The slowness of the time and the speed of days, months, years passed. Everything changes only the November feeling stays the same…
November has always been the month of leaves falling down, rain falling down, the earth evaporating its characteristic smell. November is the dark early in the morning and in the afternoon, the strange melancholy of street lamps that shine on people walking quickly. They are wrapped in their coats and look down not just because they want to avoid rain puddles.
It is the time of All Saints and the gatherings at cemetery where lie the beloved ones or the ones we have never met but are linked to us by whatever story.
Coming and going. The life cycle.
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I was expecting you with joy, curiosity, ease of a girl who loves children but does not really know what a motherhood means. I read a lot about what happens inside of me and about giving the birth and nothing about what comes afterwards. I was sure that I would breathe it through, you would be healthy and I would be fit within 6 weeks. Then you came. Not with ease, I did not breathe it through. I was not fit in 6 weeks but you were healthy, big and you ate a lot. What came afterwards was the biggest discovery of my life, the biggest mystery and an immense challenge. Your clear blue eyes were my mirror and I could spend hours just looking at you.The autumn was beautiful, warm with its characteristic smell and I walked a lot in the area we lived. I enjoyed the silence and solitude and your sleep and breath were reassuring. Continue reading
She was born quickly as if she could not wait to see the new horizons. She was so tiny that I was afraid to hold her even though I already had one baby at home. She was “tanned” from jaundice and needed a special baby cot with a light as if she wanted to tell us that she was different from her brother and that we had to learn everything about babies from a scratch. She was a baby constantly seeking contact – skin to skin, impossible to be put down from loving arms. Continue reading