You don’t need to believe in god or higher power

Published Categorised as 3 Ptice Eco Friendly Accessories, Personal, Self development

“Coaching is a good thing, but I am too intelligent, it’s hard to believe in something when you are so smart.”

Yes, the weight of the knowledge is holding you down. You see all that it’s wrong with the world. All that is wrong with you. It seems impossible to be intelligent and happy.

Oh, the mind loop I know so well.

And all intelligent people take pride in being intelligent. Maybe they will try to hide it, even from themselves, but it’s there.

When I was younger, I knew I was intelligent. People kept telling me. I was the best in school without real effort. I was called geek, I was outsider (or at least I felt like one) because I usually got the best grades and other kids thought I am learning all the time. And I was learning all the time and even I didn’t know that. I remember I was getting up at 5.30 in primary school so that I could read few pages of The Lord of the Rings before school bus. The time well spent, because now, when I am 27 I am finally getting what some of the metaphors in the book meant.

I was learning all the time through reading shit loads of stories. In my bed, awake till 5 in the morning, because I couldn’t put off the book.

I am still learning all the time.

Then there came a time, where I started to realise, that I am really smart, but I don’t feel much love in my heart. I felt superior to others. I felt like shit, because I knew I am nothing more than others, yet I couldn’t stop myself from looking down on them and so I started to feel like I am less, because I was feeling like I am more. Inferiority complex because of superiority complex.

I had suicidal thoughts quite often. I remember fantasizing how I would kill myself. Hoping that someone would show up on my funeral. Thinking how big I was, yet they couldn’t understand me. Another dead young genius, collateral damage of a fucked up society. Haha.

Or even this, I was thinking about staging suicide and then escaping to New York. Taking only a mini shiny bright green backpack with me. You can laugh. I was 7.

I didn’t kill myself because I was afraid I’m gonna fail at it. And because something in me wanted to live. Because after all, I had some friends as well, who would probably miss me. And who would get my barbie dolls?

Back to what I wanted to tell. I was a smart kid. No doubt about it. But I felt ugly. I was a girl, yet I felt like a boy. I was smart, yet I wanted to be beautiful. And beautiful girls are dumb. That’s what I saw on the TV. So I decided, that at least, I’m intelligent and that’s where I am gonna put my focus. But then I started thinking. If I would have to choose, between intelligent and beautiful, I would choose intelligent, because if you are intelligent, you can also make yourself beautiful.

And yet we have people who are beautiful and intelligent but aren’t happy. Because they don’t love. Because they don’t feel loved.

So I realised at some point that my heart is empty. Of course, I was giving and receiving something, but I didn’t really feel it. I felt apathy. I wasn’t crying for years, I think, I couldn’t remember the last time crying. I felt like a beautiful big tree, that is hollow inside. And sooner or later it’s gonna fail and everybody will see that I am nothing.

So I started discovering love. What does love feel like? How can I give it and receive it? I am still on this journey, of course. We all are, I guess.

And I started realising, that we all give and receive. Everything I am, everything I have, all of this is here, because right people and right things showed up at the right time in my life. And because right things were left behind.

I cannot enjoy the most delicious food in the world if my stomach is full to the top. I have to take a shit. Leave it behind.

And when I was watching the other day the dust in the air after a morning shower (after two days of not showering, if you need to know (or if I need to tell), I saw this light dust, in a golden light of the morning sun, dancing through the air, lighter than air. And yet this dust was once part of my solid looking body. These were the dead cells of my body. Or they aren’t even dead, transformed, whatever. It was full of beauty.

And these smart ass brain-body of mine will once be completely dead. And I don’t know what happens after dead. Believing in the reincarnation of not, believing in immortality or not, believing in god or not, seeing everything as love or seeing everything just like one thing parasitising other that is parasitising another that is parasitising another… My body will go back to the dust of the Earth.

And it’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?

But I don’t want to die yet.

And while I am still alive (a life), while I have this body, while I have the eyes that can witness beauty, while I have the fingers that can type this, while I have friends and family that I love and that love me, no matter for how long, while I have it all, I’m gonna enjoy it. It’s all mine and nothing is mine at the same time.

And maybe I’m gonna fall in depression again and somebody might hold a space for me then, just like I can hold a space for others now.

Where is the point here? No matter what you believe in or don’t believe in, no matter if you see all the sorrow of the world or all the beauty of it, no matter if you are super intelligent or not, you can still choose how will you look at things.

Albert Einstein (I think you agree he was pretty intelligent) said “There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

You can comprehend both options with your beautiful mind.

I choose to live as everything is a miracle because it feels more fun.

What about you?



Love and everything,






With Love,

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By Anita Puksic

Full time human being. With whole heart and brain devoted life coach for artists, entrepreneurs and visionaries, that are ready to release their heavy baggage and start living as they always believed deep inside IT IS POSSIBLE, especially for them.

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