Nope. I did not wake up early to make my man a sandwich.

I laugh on the inside, with a smile on my face, Pulaski at night on my ears, on repeat, dreams I dream long times ago coming into my memory and fading away.
I look pigeons at the neighbor’s roof. I wonder why morning or evening mist sometimes smells like an incense in a church.

Mmmm, this is why I woke up early.
To meditate. To make my art. To observe. To laugh. To listen to Pulaski at night on repeat.


“Let me wake up ten minutes earlier,” I said to my boyfriend. He secretly changed my alarm, because he wanted us to wake up at the same time. “I want to be alone in the kitchen in the morning, to make myself coffee without your mother asking me if the reason I woke up so early is to make you a sandwich.”
“Tell her next time that you woke up so early, because you have work to do, like the rest of us. She will be pleased to hear this.”


When I was six year old, I meant to brush my teeth, but I couldn’t get the toothpaste out of the tub. I took a razor that was lying there on washing machine and cut the tub. Plus my finger. The blood came out. I needed a plaster. What if mum will be angry at me when I come to her for a plaster? ‘What were you doing?!’ She will be mad. What story should I come up with? What happened to me?
Hmmm, but what if I tell the truth? I did nothing wrong. Why would I lie?
I decided that day that I won’t lie anymore. That I’m gonna speak the truth.
I broke this rule a few times in my teenage years, but otherwise is still something I live by.
Sometimes I don’t speak the truth because sometimes I rather stay silent.
That day, when I was around six and told my mum the truth, I realised that truth really does set you free. It was such a light feeling. I felt relieved I don’t have to make up a story and waste time trying to not get caught on a lie.


This morning in the kitchen I stayed mostly silent.
How to explain to 60+ somebody, who lived the life as she was taught, that I choose to live the life in another way? How to tell her that by me choosing differently, I don’t try to make her wrong?


I didn’t say I woke up earlier because I have to work.
I woke up earlier because of myself. I woke up earlier to make my art before anything else. I woke up earlier to have time for myself before anything else.
I woke up earlier to work on my art, which isn’t even work. It’s sitting here, typing the words. Looking at the distance, observing blocks of thoughts falling on it’s place. Going with the flow. Not even knowing what will come out of this. Not even knowing exactly what am I trying to say.


What am I trying to say?
Ah, I laugh at myself.
There is no one way. I don’t have the answers on how people should live. Let them live.
If my boyfriend’s mother thinks preparing a sandwich to her man in the morning is love in action, all I can do is let her live her way, let her live her version of love. It’s her life. Her art.


This is what I was trying to say. Not to have a point to prove. I just wanted to talk about art.
How much I love art.
I love how my perceptions of the world are changed through it.
I love how some other person put their life, their thoughts, their love, their emotions, their observations, their creative energy into a piece of work that expands my horizons.

I love how I don’t get it.
Oooh, I love how sometimes I get stopped in my tracks and I cannot think. My body-mind goes blank. I feel spacious. There’s more space around me and I float in it. And then I expand myself again.

Sometimes there are no words to find. Like that time, when I was driving with those crazy people I currently work on a project with.
She was driving her car with green leather gloves on, like she came from some movie. Who drives the car with gloves on?
He put on a CD with fucking Bruckner and we were listening to it at a full volume.
The landscape I know so well and love so much was passing by.
I felt grateful to share the experience of driving in a car, through beautiful landscape, listening to classical music with other human beings.
It was that deep rich sense of gratitude that you can almost touch. The feeling of gratitude you feel when you live one of your dreams, when you experience it in your body.
The music kept on playing and my sight went from the outer landscape to my inner landscapes (where is the border, anyway?). The sound was going through my stomach, through my womb, through my arms. I was crying. ‘Why do you cry?’ I asked myself. ‘I don’t know why, I just cry’.
It was something beyond thoughts.

And it was beautiful. And so real.

“There seems to be a perception of thinking that when you are talking about something real you have to either tone it down or make it look a bit grey. I always think that you can have great truth in great beauty – the two things go naturally together.” – Paolo Sorrentino

I love how art of somebody else influences me. I love how in art of somebody else I find myself. I love how understood I feel by it. I love how I find myself and upgrade myself through it. I love this sex of minds, that spiritual-sexual-natural-life (isn’t it all the same thing?) energy exchanged that takes place through art. I love how I take my pleasure out of it.

I love how I fall and rise in deeper sense of beauty and truth through art.
I love how rich I feel thanks to art.

I love how my walk through the fields is art itself. It’s something so beautiful. So rich with nature. So rich with thought forms of my mind that finally get enough space to be. So rich with inner peace and stillness. So rich with excitement. So rich with beauty. So rich with truth that I yet don’t know but can sense it. Haha, I am trying to explain it, because I am trying to share with you, this piece of my life that is pure art, but as I am explaining it, I am kinda losing it, like water slipping through my fingers.

Maybe we don’t need to share all of our thoughts, all of our truth, all of our art.
Maybe sometimes is enough to just enjoy it.
Maybe sometimes is enough to be an art, an artist and my own audience and have it all for myself. Just like god.

It’s time for me to take a walk on the wild side, to experience those fields on a whole new day, on a whole new level once again.

All I want for birthday is…

“Happy Birthday,” she said. “What do you wish for? Probably a job?”
“No, mum, I don’t want a regular job.”
“But this way you would have a regular income and not be without money like you are.”
Akward silence on my site.
“Okay, we won’t talk about that.”
Thanks god, I don’t want to talk with you about that.

And then she started talking about how she forgot her phone in a garage yesterday and how did she find it, or something like that, while I was searching web for the best option for us to go to Vienna on 31st of May, for the Vienna Philharmonic Sommernachtskonzert. Because I know she wants to experience this and because I want to experience this, because it’s gonna be epic fun and beauty and because I am so grateful to her that she enjoys classical music and that through her joy I fell in love with it too.

But I’m not sure if she is gonna be able to go, because she has a fucking regular job in which she works quite often on Saturdays and Sundays, yet she is still afraid to ask for two days off. Gosh, I am getting a bit pissed of here at my mum and whole fucking system…

But let me share, what do I wish for, what do I want for my birthday, my life, by the next birthday of mine…

I want to keep on working the way I want, with the people I want and who appreciate me and see my genius.
I want my mum to sit down with me someday and I want us to have a great conversation and I want her to see me for who I really am. For a genius that I am, for a peacemaker, for a person who speaks the truth, for a person who is daring greatly and isn’t afraid to show the world her shine, her tears (I’m crying like crazy now), her holy rage, her deepest love and compassion, her beautiful mind and a wild soul. I want my mum to see me and hear me and love me and stop caring about what others think about me and about her as mum, I want her to stop being ashamed of me and herself, when people ask her if I have a job already. I want her to tell them proudly that her daughter doesn’t have a job, that she has a life.

I wish that I keep on following my version of success. And in my version I have enough time for myself, for people I love, for long walks in nature, for playing with my dog, for consuming quality art and for diving deep into the dark light of my own consciousness. I am successful already by my own definition.

I wish I wouldn’t worry anymore about anyone elses opinion of who I should be. Not even my mums. I wish I would be so sovereign in my own being, in my own nature, in my own true essence, that I would follow it, live it, without hoping for others to approve of me and my actions.

I wish I would trust 100% that by doing what is best for me, I do best for everyone else. By being healthy as a particle, as one cell on this planet, I am taking care of everybody by taking care of myself, by being the best expression of me.

I wish I wouldn’t shy away and turn my light off, when men in the streets look at me and perceive me as an object of their desire. I wish, that I knew that because someone else perceive me as an object, that doesn’t mean I have to perceive myself the way others perceive me.
I wish I would stand in my power no matter what.

I wish I would be happy and that my predominant vibe is the vibe of inner peace, no matter what is going on. I want to expand into greater and greater peace. I want my inner queen and king to rule my inner kingdom of heaven with peace, unconditional love and infinite intelligence.

I wish I would paint those paintings I see bubbling up in me. I wish I would blow away all those opinions of what is art and what is not and just create because of the pure joy of creating.

I wish I would stop trying to find a label for myself, who I am and what I do. Writer? Coach? Painter? Poet? Fashion designer? Blogger? I am all of it and none of it and so much more. I am a fucking paradox in one person. I am black and white. Yin yang and tao itself.

I am born spiritual, I am born psychologist and philosopher, I am born artist, I am born as a space holder for peace that is unfolding on this planet.
I am born with desire, greed, ambition and hunger and I am using it in the way that serves me and everyone else.

I wish I would love me. All of me.

I wish I would let go of all the resentments that I still carry around, because I love myself so much that I don’t want to walk around with those arrows in my heart.

I wish that my inner girl, my inner child, is always proud of me, happy that I turned out into a grown up that didn’t forget the truth, into a grown up that let’s her inner child’s genius shine.
I wish that every time I look at myself in the mirror that I see the spark in my eyes, that beautiful spark that is there when I own my light and my dark at the same time.
I wish that when I show up somewhere, that people are happy to see me and I am happy to see them.
I wish the whole world feels like my home.
I wish that my heart feels like my home.

I wish that by this time next year my book is written and printed and I want to get notes from people, thanking me for writing it, because they finally feel like somebody gets them and they can be who they really are and be loved.

I wish I would see people as who they really are, I wish I would see their beauty underneath all masks and labels. I wish I would be always compassionate with the best in people and this way letting it shine.

I wish I would forgive easily and move on fast.

I wish I would always know, that I deserve the best, because I exist, that I don’t have to prove the worthiness of my existence with a statement on my bank account, hard work and how many important people I know.

I wish I would speak out the greatness that is within me, I wish I would speak my truth, I wish I would blow away all the fake modesty, all the ways I am making myself smaller, so that people would love me and I wouldn’t end up alone.
I wish I would blow all of this away and let myself shine my true self and be grateful for all the amazing people that love me for who I am, and let go of trying to prove myself to people who enjoy to see me fail, so they can be right about their perception of me and their pessimistic outlook on life.

I also wish to make shit tons of money my way and as the revenge love all those people who didn’t believe in me, “You see how good I am, bitchez?” 😀

I wish to stop taking myself so seriously and I want to laugh at myself when I fall into importance trap games those so called grown ups so much like to play.

And I also want friends that would prepare me a surprise birthday party.

This is what I want for my birthday, mum. And I wish I could tell to you how fucking grateful I am that you bore me, because I love this life so much and I see so much beauty in the world, and I receive so much love from the world everyday and I give so much love everyday and I wish I would open myself up more for even more love.

I wish you would see you raised a beautiful human being and that you didn’t fail as mum.

And you said you wish me that my secret wish would come true… my secret wish is that I could sit with you, my family, behind the table, having Sunday lunch and that I would actually feel as a part of the family. I wish I could share with you bits of my life, about what I do, what I work at, I wish I could share my successes and joy of life with you and you would be happy for me, even if you don’t really get it. I wish you would at least try to get it. With an open heart.