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.

I want to tell this to my children: You are not a failure while you do not give up. None of us is a failure while we keep trying. My daughter did not get accepted to SF ballet school. I know she really wanted to go there. If there is one thing in life that I want to pass to my children it is the strength of not giving up on things that are important to them.

Never cheat yourself out of live, never cheat yourself out of love. Otherwise you will always be anxious, restless, exhausted, unhappy. There will be a handful of things that you will really love doing, those things might not be what you have studied or prepared for. Still, pursue them. You will know with your heart when you are doing the right thing. Never cheat on yourself here.

I have never studied business because my family believed it was not a noble profession for a woman. I studied literature instead because it was “womanly” to do so. My heart belongs to building and running companies. This is the only thing that I enjoy doing. And I know I am good at it because it is almost as if my body knew what decision to make before my mind formulates it. Doing it is a reward in itself. It is the only reward I want. Working in literature would have never made me that happy.

Never cheat on yourself. Never talk yourself out of things your heart is set on pursuing. Do not let failure stop you. There will be so many stops and fails along the road that I can’t even tell you how hard it will be. But it will be worth it because at the end of each day you will look at yourself in the mirror and you will be able to face yourself and feel the peace. And you will know that you are not a failure.

Never cheat yourself out of life, never cheat yourself out of love. You will love others. And they will betray you over and over again. Even the best of them, specially the best of them. Those who you thought would never hurt you or let you down. Even then do not rush to the next stoplight. Breathe, look yourself in the eyes and know your heart. Your love is yours. It belongs to you. Follow your heart and not the words of others. Your road might be longer, but know you are not a failure while you do what is true to you.

Do things you love even if you do not excel for a long while. If those things are in your heart eventually you will become good. It is the heart work and the perseverance that makes great artists, great writers, great dancers, great businessmen. Really, there is nothings else to it.

My son and my daughter, you will grow up fast. As you grow, as you become strong and independent, I am not going to tell you what to do in your life. The only thing I will teach you is to look at yourself every day and be able to face yourself. And love yourself as you look yourself in the eyes. For this to happen I will teach you to never give up on things that are important to you. Never give up on your path, never give up on what you want to do, never give up on your love, never give up on yourself. You are not a failure while you pursue what is in your heart.

I just overheard somebody saying “I have been there with the love of my life” referring to her boyfriend. And it all sounded smooth and easy. Like if this is how it is supposed to be in this world.

Where did I go wrong? Why things are never easy?

At times I feel like an idiot. Like if I have missed something important, exactly this small detail that makes everything smooth and simple.

When I am about to lose my breath I remind myself that my road is longer and will take me higher up the mountain. It requires more endurance and more strength. It is beautiful along the way too. I will walk more windy days and I will sleep uncovered under more starry nights. I will smell more flowers. I will hear more birds sing. My skin will become golden from the sun.

And I will meet somebody I love at the end of the road.

The hard thing is to always find the strength to walk.

There are a few things I truly enjoy doing and I have been pushing those aside lately. Or when I did those I rushed through them as not worthy of my time. Or I did them quietly. And I felt guilty liking them when in reality those things made me be me.

-I love baking with the kids. I love baking sweet stuff like cakes, madeleines, brioches, cupcakes. And I love seeing kids around me when I bake and to do it with them. I love how our place smells when we bake here.

-I love having kids over at my place. I love sitting and reading a book on a couch when overhearing kids speak, laugh, joke and make all kind of funny noises. I do not mind them screaming and solving their small conflicts. I enjoy having them around. And I specially love hearing them speak French.

-I love driving and looking at people and places. Long commute does not tire me. I am at peace when I drive. I like the feel of the steering wheel and the gas pedal; I like their resistance and obedience at the same time. Driving is sensual for me.

-I love reading. Just that. Just sitting with the windows open and hearing the sounds of a quiet summer afternoon. The birds outside, the breeze. It feels comfortable. It feels like if the world was made of silk and felt soft and luxurious at the same time.

-I love learning new etudes and minuets on violin. I love it because of the sound and because it takes all my attention. It makes me forget everything else except music and be really present to the strings, the bow, the sound. I belong to myself when I am learning to play music.

-I love my bedroom. It is the most peaceful and relaxing place I have ever known. I do not like clothing too much. I love myself after the shower in a black silk negligee reading in my bed. These are the best moments with myself. All the years I have been married my bedroom has never been mine. I never liked it. It was a pile of furniture and things that belonged to both of us and none of us were passionate about. Just things. Right now it feels like beauty. I am passionate and relaxed at the same time there.

-I love my work. It seems very stressful, but I do not mind this appearance of stress. I like doing things with goal and purpose. And I get to do it every day. With all the business and mess I am not stressed. I learnt how to manage time, people and my own emotions. Stress is created by postponing the right decision. Once you do things stress disappears and you find the beauty of resistance and obedience. And again, it is sensual.

-I love that most of the things I live every day I feel them with my skin. Living is sensual. It is sexual. It is physically exciting. There are few things that I like more than others. Because those excite me right away and make me not think about the past and not dream about the future. It is the sun on my skin; the feeling of the sand under my feet; walking on the shore in the cold ocean water; the taste and the smell of coffee; the warmth of wine when I am thirsty; the moment when it starts raining and I feel my hair getting wet; putting oil on my skin after the bath; talking business to people; sitting in my bed before falling asleep; fighting and seeing people fight. All those things make me live right there.

Many times I felt guilty for feeling the things so passionately. For getting excited with each one of them. In my late teens my mom consulted a doctor, an OB, who was her friend because I was always too excited about everything. The doctor found nothing wrong with me, she said I sensed the things with my body at a much higher rate than other people. Still with my mom’s worries I carried the sense of guilt of living the way I am. I pushed it aside. I rushed through things that mattered the most. I resisted myself.

Somebody told me “be selfish”. Selfish does not mean to push others aside, it does not mean to disregard the people around, it does not mean to put myself in the first place always. It means to stop resisting myself. It means to enjoy (not not to feel guilty for) the small and big things I love doing.

Love is born from selfishness.