I turned out to be a lousy museum goer. I have planned yesterday to spend a day at the deYoung museum. But then it was raining heavily in the morning and I worked from a cafe looking at the rain drops slide down the window. Then I packed my stuff and went to MMA for the noon class. I have never been at the MMA at noon before.

On my way to the car I bumped into Isaac and he asked me what was my daughter’s name and I told him. And he said that he will call her “the little dancer”. And I told him how fighting is very much like dancing. Body touch and movement at certain pressure. And there is grace in both.

There were 6 of us at MMA at noon. When I was changing in the bathroom I saw my body in the mirror and I knew I love my body. I looked at my arms, hips, waist and I loved what I was seeing. Not a muscle waisted, not a muscle visible. Strength and energy compressed inside.

After the class we did some sparring on the mat. And there was a moment when after a few successful submissions I ended up in the worst possible position. On my back with my opponent’s body squared over me. The body was pressing my body and it hurt. I was still going, but I was about to give up. And then I heard Jason’s voice saying, “Move to your side, move your hips, elbow escape”. I did not even know he was there sitting and watching us. His voice made all the difference. I found the strength and I got out of it. And then it was easy and I made the opponent tap. And I am sure Jason does not even know how his words made all the difference.

My body hurt badly when I left. I sat in my car, rolled down the car windows and listened to Celentano love songs. Drops of sweat falling from my forehead. My hair was a mess. I fixed my hair and tried to breath better. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I knew I was not going to give up.

I drove home, took a long shower and made myself a salad. Celentano songs still playing in my head and my chest and arms hurting from sparring. My right hand was lightly bruised. And I stared at the bruise as if it was a medal. And I thought that it was funny how love and pain interlace in one beautiful pattern. And I have a crash on this pattern.

I thought that I was grateful to the kids for making me score higher. If I would not have them and all the financial and time responsibilities I would probably let myself act on a whim, I would be spoiled, I would do things as an emotional reaction. With the kids I pushed myself to think better, to have better job, to love what I do, to be what I want them to become.

I drove to school to pickup the kids and I listened to the same Celentano song. I was in love with it. It made me love Italian language which I understood so well. I thought about work and how I was about to give up yesterday and how today was another day. And I was not going to give up now. I started to think about a plan. It was a blurred map of points and lines traced in my mind. But it was something that had a definite shape and it made sense. My body knew it before my mind knew it and I trust my body. The pain and passion were so close to each other these days that it changed everything.

The moon was white and it was almost full. I looked at it as we drove home. From the hill it looked big and unreal. Its light gave strength. Outside on the street the night air was cold. Change was about to happen.

Life is short and beautiful!

I tell myself to enjoy more each moment and worry less. I saw my children asleep in their beds yesterday night and it felt precious. I felt sad that they do not have family around and they are just here with me. I love them dearly. I love them deeply. I want to care for them every moment, I want to see them laugh, to see them run, to see them play….

We worry too much about things we can’t change. We do too little to change things that are in our power. Seeing children and grownups smile is a gift.

I tell myself not to spend my time with things that do not matter. Not to gift my time to people who do not value it. Be friend to those who are friends. And remember that friends do not make you cry. Live your dream. Not the illusion of something.

Look people in the eyes. Smile openly. Laugh more. Love deeply. Love truly and forever. Forget bad things fast. Pardon people if they hurt you. Do not focus on pain or anger, just live through it and be done with it. Enjoy the kids. Enjoy holding their hands. Savor the food you eat. Appreciate the wine you drink. Never look at your phone if you have a real friend next to you. Walk barefoot. At night look at the stars.

Life is short and beautiful. I love kisses and hugs. And the softness of caring…

I baked a Mallorcan coca for myself today. Because I really wished somebody would cook a meal for me tonight. However, it is always me cooking for the kids and for myself. Every day. Day after day. Every meal.

Thus I took this recipe by my friend from Mallorca and baked a coca for myself and for the kids. It is very simple. Here it is:

-1/2 glass of olive oil

-3/4 glass of warm water

-flour (you add it till you can knead the dough)

Then you cut vegetables (onions, tomatoes, zucchinis, mushrooms, peppers, black olives, or any vegetables you have at home) in small pieces, add olive oil and salt to the vegetables, mix them well in a bowl and spread the vegetables over the dough. You bake it for 20 min at 400 F and it is done. And it tastes amazing!

The recipe is simple. Like a recipe for life 🙂

-patience

-kindness

-light

Only three ingredients and voila! I thought how great it would be if we would cook for ourselves and for others just this simple meal made of patience, kindness and light.

I came to realize last week that what people tell us is about them, but at the same time it affects us greatly. It does, unless we are open to hear others too. When a person accuses you of being scared it is he himself who is scared. When the person tells you he does not trust you it means he does not trust himself. When a person tells you you can’t do something it is he who can’t do it, not you. When people are hurt and depressed they talk about their own past and present drama. They talk about their anger and their weaknesses. It is not about you, it is about how messed up their own lives are. It is about how lost they are…. However if you love the person it is hard, it is extremely hard not to fall into this emotional pit. Keep a moment of silence in your mind and do not react, do not reply with the same anger, depression, weakness. At a tough moment the other person wants you to be hurt like him, to scream like him, to be weak and broken like him. Then you are suffering together. All you can do is to give your friend a hand to lift him up. And use exactly these three ingredients: patience, kindness and light. Like if you were baking this old Mallorca dish. You always put love into kneading the dough. You can’t do it without love, it never tastes the same. And make sure he knows that if you can’t lift him up you will sit by his side as long as needed, may be forever.

The most important thing here is to keep yourself open to all other people. To listen to the world outside of your intimate world. Do not be upset if one person does not like you. So what? This does not make you ugly. There are hundreds out there who will love you. Hear them. Do not be upset if you can’t get one job done correctly. It does not mean you are a failure. It only means there are 300 jobs you can do amazingly well. Do those.

I was hurt and felt unloved when the person I loved never gave me flowers or said that I looked great or did anything to make me feel cared for. I was an idiot. I was an idiot because I consciously decided not to notice that almost every week I received proposals for dating. And I was never part of a dating site and never looked for it. However people would message their friends saying that I looked beautiful and hot and if I was open to date them. When I finally stopped feeling hurt and opened my eyes it felt great. Most of the time I did not date those men, but it still felt great to be asked. It allowed me to recover my confidence and strength. And when we are confident and strong we do not hurt others. When we are confident and strong we project patience, kindness and light.

Life is like kneading the dough with love.

The life is not about knowing it all. It is not about being secure and confident. We all go through moments of confidence and moments of insecurity. The beauty is in balancing those moments and walk on the fine line between confidence and doubt.

The idea is to keep walking when you feel shy. To keep walking when you are scared. To keep walking when the road seems to get only harder and harder. The idea is to observe the scenery, to enjoy each moment and to help the fellow human being next to you. The idea is not to save the world but to help this one person whose shoulder is touching yours, who may or may not appear needy, but who became part of your life due to the path you undertook. Love is born in no other way.

The idea is to reverse the moments of doubt into the moments of intimate mystery when you turn your eyes inwards and take a chance to explore yourself. The idea is to reverse the moments of confidence into the moments of empowerment of others.

Behind the moment of shyness lies the strength. Behind the moment of confidence lies the doubt. Never ending serpentine taking you up the hill….

People will want to average you out. To make you average. Because it is safer for them. It is more predictable and easier to live if we are all similar.

If you are strong people will tell you to become gentler. If you are kind and nice people will tell you to become tougher. If you are fat people will tell you to lose weight. If you are skinny they will tell you to gain some. If you are creative they will want you to become more organized. If you are very organized they will encourage you to be more creative. It comes all to the fact that they want you to be like everybody else. Instead of you being very strong at something people will want you to develop all your other sides. Once you listen to them you will become a well-rounded person. An average person.

I think we should not follow the advice of others. Follow your gut and intuition instead. Be more you and less average. And this means you will not be a well-rounded person, but you will be very good at who you really are.

I am a strong-willed (stubborn?) person by nature. A leader, a chief, a hunter … I always felt admiration for strength in all its forms: emotional, mental and physical. In a crowd I will only notice and remember people who posses those qualities. I will also remember those who desperately need them and be there to protect them. Since I was a kid I climbed trees, played pirates, learned how to fight, became good at throwing knifes, made explosives in our kitchen and shoot arrows into the birds in our summer house. Some days I believed I was Hamlet and others I was Captain Blood. With all this I was never a tomboy. I loved dresses and I loved being a girl. However I greatly enjoyed all the “boys” games. The pace and energy of it are part of my nature.

At a birthday party when I was 6 or 7 y.o. all the mothers were commenting on us, little girls, sitting around the birthday table. One mother said that we all looked cute like little kittens. And other mother commented that yes, all, except me, because I looked like a lioness cub. I did not know if I liked this comment or not but I remembered it.

As I became a grown up all I heard was that I should be more feminine. Than instead of playing horse polo or doing judo I should take on dancing or yoga, or at least swimming. Something that will make me be more of a woman. Those comments came from my family, close friends, boyfriends…. almost everybody.

I am not masculine at all. Those who can’t see my femininity are blind. They are looking for a washed out stereotype of what a weak and needy woman (or man) should be. I enjoy greatly being a woman. I love myself. I love my body. I look at myself every time I get out of the shower or when I change in front of the mirror. And I love what I have become. Every curve, every cell of my skin, every muscle of my body is extremely feminine and sensual. It is also strong and powerful.

I am glad I only did what I wanted to do. I am glad I did not dilute myself with things that are not me. I am glad I did not do what other people told me to do. This would have made me be blah. This would not have made me be more feminine, it just would not allow me to become a deeper and more passionate me.

We know who we are. We should develop those qualities that make us  be “us” to its uttermost excellence. We should not spend time of making ourselves average. Life is too short for that. If you are kind, then shoot for being the kindest. If you are strong, then work on becoming stronger. If you can control your emotions like nobody else, then keep improving it even more. Focus on your strengths and love them, grow them, work on them. Listen to who you are and be that even more. Amplified 10x.

…and when I dance, I dance; For those who have seen me dance know it. Hell… I love dancing in the trenches of gothic streets of some mediterranean city in summer nights. You dive into the night air and the life is forever and your skin becomes music.

I wake up and feel tired. And it is hard to go back to sleep.

The wind is moving the trees’ branches outside of my bedroom window. It is 5am. It is October. The sun will be out in a few hours and the street will look beautiful framed by all the red, green and yellow leaves. But right now it is still dark and I can’t fall back to sleep because I am thinking about work, money, kids, people, myself.

I talk to myself and make myself smile. And still there is the dull pain behind my back. And I focus on listening to the wind and the leaves. It is quiet in the house. The kids are still asleep. I move halfway to the other side of the bed. The sheets are cold there and it feels nice.

Then I think about work and that things are pretty bad there. Bad but not desperately bad. Things will only be bad if we give up emotionally. We lose our battles when we give up.  I say to myself that I am not going to give up. It does not matter the reason. Then my mind jumps to things that need to be done. I close my eyes and breath. Breathing hurts. It is probably from stress.

I lay in bed and think about my first night in Norway. We were sleeping in this big village house. The house was empty and the night air was very cold in August. We slept on two air mattresses that we brought with us from US. We had nothing else with us. I could not sleep. I was laying on my back and looking into the starry sky seen through a large window. I was scared. I was scared for my life, for the life of the kids. We were in a country we did not know, we did not speak the language, we were pretty far north. No friends, no family, no work. The relationship with my husband was already damaged and I felt alone for many years then. No one to share my worries, no one to reply upon. And it was a scary place to be. And I was scared. I looked at the sky feeling the cold sweat on my skin and I thought that if you would be with me I would not be scared. I could never be scared if we were together. And I smiled and I was not scared any longer. I just imagined putting my forehead tight to your shoulder and I knew that we could get through anything. It was a fantasy and I felt asleep towards the morning.

This was back then. Four years ago.

Right now I just feel tired. I have a light headache and I sit in my bed and try to look through a Williams-Sonoma website to distract myself. Their sparkling pots, and nice silverware, and pumpkin pie recipes, and brand new apple peelers. Because in reality I am crying. I know all the right answers to my problems. And I also know that it is not about the right answers. It is not about answers at all. It is about carrying your belief day after day, no matter how hard it is. Because exactly this part is hard: carrying the belief fully alone day after day. And being scared.

I stretch in between of the sheets, put my hands on my hips and listen to the quietness of our house. I am glad the kids are asleep. And I try not to think about anything for the next hour. I just lay and listen to the leaves that swirl in the wind.

Red leaves.

(A tale that I am starting to forget)

We were walking next to each other through a field of the dark golden rye. The field had no end and if we looked in any direction all we could see were the multiple shades of golden rye moving slowly in the soft afternoon light.

We were not walking together. We did not hug or hold hands. Nor we were walking separately. Just side by side. We liked the closeness of each other. Sometimes we were silent, sometimes we talked.

We saw a person standing in the middle of the field. As we approached him, we saw his dark coat with a hood over his head. His clothing resembled that of a monk or of an old person who walked many roads and is used to sleep under the stars. We could not even surely say if he was a man or a woman. Sometimes it seemed to be a woman talking under the hood and sometimes we thought he was a man.

And then I realized that you were no longer you but a tree. You became a large oak tree under which shade I was standing. And then the man under the hood said, “I will give you some silk yarn because you are to knit the most beautiful blanket that ever existed. It will be the most precious yarn your hands will touch and you will enjoy the work greatly. You will love what your hands will be able to knit. It will not be easy.” And he felt silent for a while, then looked at the tree next to me and continued, “You will need a lot of patience. And confidence. A lot of people will come to rest under this tree and they will all leave. A lot of people will be next to you and you will get to be with many, and they will also leave. A lot of things will hurt you and him,” and he looked at the tree, “and you both will go through a lot of pain. But you must not stop knitting. You have to continue till you know that the blanket is complete. And you will know. It will be the most beautiful blanket that ever existed. It will be the lightest and the softest one. It will be gold and transparent at the same time and it will be heavy in winter and airy in summer. Its pattern will make the eyes happy, its touch will make you feel peaceful.”

The old man stopped talking and after looking at the tree and at me said, “Here is the yarn.” I expected him to pull a bag of yarn magically out of nowhere but instead he dipped his hand inside of his coat and handed me a small ball of yarn. It is true that the yarn shined as gold and it was unusually transparent, it made my hand heavy and at the same time it seemed weightless. It was the most beautiful yarn my hands have ever touched. But it was just one ball of yarn. After I stopped admiring the yarn I said, “I will not be able to make a blanket out of just one ball of yarn.” And the old man replied, “It will be enough. Just never stop knitting.” And then he bowed his head to us and proceed his road. In a few minutes he was not visible anywhere in the field.

I sat under the tree, leaned my back on the trunk and started knitting. And then it all happened like life happens in movies when you put them on fast-forward. We were together on this field and then many people passed by us. Some stopped because of the shade that the tree gave, some because they liked sitting next to me and talking. Some would sleep under the tree, some would put their head on my shoulder and find some peace for a short while. They would leave and new people would come. I would walk around sometimes to get the touch of the sun on my skin, but then I would come back to the tree and resume my work. And so we grew fond of each other. I got to love his shade and his trunk that I leaned on while working, and he got to love my constant company, the stories I would tell him and the work that was being born under my fingers. The blanket was getting bigger and bigger every day and it acquired the most mysterious and attractive pattern that human eyes have ever seen. It was soft and warm and it always looked festive and bright. It absorbed all the colors from the sun and shined throughout the day, and when the sun was getting lower it would turn gold and transparent and shine like stars throughout the night. And as it grew bigger it began to keep the tree and me warm during the chilly nights.

A lot of time have passed since I started the blanket. And then one day we realized that it has been quiet for many weeks in a row. Unusually quiet. There were no more people coming to spend time under the shade of the tree and no more travelers coming to listen to my stories. It was a sunny afternoon in fall, similar to the one when we met the old man with the silk yarn. I was leaning on the trunk of the tree and it was incredibly comfortable and it was quiet around. And the tree liked me leaning on him. The sun was setting and the fall wind was blowing away the leaves of the tree. Now the leaves were as gold as the rye around us.

And that day we realized that the blanket was complete. It had the finite form and did not need anything else. It was beautiful. It was gold and transparent; it was warm and light; it made the eyes smile when looking at its pattern. It was large enough to wrap it around myself and the tree. And so I did.

We both grew to love each other’s company and now it was peaceful under the warmth of the blanket.

I could sit and look at the water for a long while. Just listen to the waves and be silent.

I wish I could love flowers more. I stopped noticing its beauty lately.

Too much pain and anger transform us. We let anger get into us in order to get out. The pain resides in our bodies. We get used to it and do not feel it any longer. I got too used to constant pain.

And then I became extremely tired of everything. Tired of being surrounded by shallow people. Tired of empty words. Tired of going on dates that do not mean anything to me. Tired of dealing with people who are not interested in our future. Tired of people who do not dream.

I believe we can do more than we think we are capable of. We can love more. We can dream more. We can build more. Still everybody gives the brightness of their eyes to the screens of their cell phones. I look around and wonder…. Is it worth it? And then I feel sad.

It is ok to feel sad.

Tonight I could sit and look at the clouds and listen to the sound of water.

There are two things worth living for. Love and progress. If it is not love than progress must be it.

It is 6:15am and I am putting gas in my car on a small gas station between Mill Valley and Sausalito. As I am putting gas I am watching a large pickup truck that is towing a long boat. The truck is making a wide turn and is about to hit my car with the boat.

-Don’t spend your life like this.

I turn my head and I look at the man who spoke these words. He is standing next to me, smiling.

-He will either hit your car or he won’t.

-You look stressed. It does not matter if you stress out or not. What can you do?

-I can scream at him.

-He won’t hear you. He will either hit you or he won’t. Do not live your life like this. Do not stress out about things in your life.

-And if he hits me?

-You will enjoy a day off.

-I have to go to work anyway. I have too much to do.

-It is your choice. But you can take a day off and enjoy it while your car is being fixed.

I smile back.

-Do not spend your life like this, – he sits back in his car, a dark red BMW SUV, and disappears.

-You are right, – I say in to the air, and I keep seeing his happy face. And I smile.