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.

Hvala ti za kavo!Hvala ti za kavo!

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