Posts tagged ‘introspection’

2013, August 5

Thoughts from places –Weekend getaway

My thoughts from places, while on a weekend getaway in July.



Most of the time it’s hard to find my way, hard to find the “right” way. I know the path I need to take, but most steps are made on the sides. I try to find good trails, but even when I am on them, I seem to forget how to walk. However, I believe that even the smallest attempts are “seen”, felt, and there, I find signs to guide me. I haven’t asked, not consciously, I do not make demands in clear and precise words. But they are there in my mind and in my heart, and the Universe sometimes listens and points towards a new path.


I am content. Happy with what was, with all the good in that. A dramatic final farewell isn’t necessary here.


Many things are like riding a bike. You never forget the “how to.”


I hope everyone knows how important they are in contributing to the "all things are exactly as they should be" concept, on this very day.

Because without you, they wouldn’t be.


Thank you for the advice, and answer to my unasked question.


I’ve been thinking, and the one conclusion of my meditation is actually two. The first is that ignorance is bliss and second that the truth always hurts. I never tried to make my blog a place of just balloons and cake and smiles, it’s often where I throw my baggage. If it’s good or not, I have no idea. Should I apologize in advance if I might upset someone? Only write about topics that concern me only myself? Should I not write about anything else but happy things? Hide the truth because it is difficult to face? What to do? In the end I think that it is not mandatory for anyone to read my writing. They have a choice. We all do.


Details are irrelevant. But paying attention to signs, all you have to do is to be open and you will see them. People can heal; and a touch, a smile, a pat on the back can produce such a powerful exchange of energy and direction and force that an indestructible bond can be formed.



It is possible  to travel to a city and dislike it the minute you step off the bus. But only if you give it a second chance and discover even at least one thing you love about it, can your trip turn around and you’ll experience it as something magical.


On days like today, how could I not smile with my whole being? How could I not be convinced that the message coming from all different sides, is the same one? And why, why do I still find it extremely difficult to do what should I do? Why can’t I turn away from the bad, why can’t I ignore, forget, forgive? Why bother with the ugly and not look around to see miracles? During this whirlwind of madness and malice and gossip and anger and selfishness, a secret that escaped from under cloches today brought me happiness and peace. To know that from a hundred people one appreciates me for me is enough. I take one step, then another, and slowly figure out the path.

2013, July 15

A dramatic final farewell isn’t necessary here.

The title is something on which my friend J agreed with me regarding the below thoughts. They’re originally my comment on J’s blog post, Parts of a whole (revisited), and some afterthoughts as I’ve been thinking about this ever since.


My journals are somewhere in a box behind all sort of things. And, in the lack of a place to burn them (no real yard), they’ll likely stay there until I have my own little house with a garden where I can build a fire.
Danielle LaPorte’s post prompted the same feelings in me – that of “Yes” and that which, turns out, is why I haven’t been journaling since then. The vastness of the past is something I like, while investing in the future is what “pays off” on the long run. There can sometime be a magic to old Dear Diary. But this is not the time.

What I do wonder when I’ll throw away or burn, are photographs. I’ve thrown away photos from a relationship before. I haven’t regretted it.

And from another one that ended, I’ve deleted blog comments. I kind of regret that latter.

But I haven’t deleted photos. Not the digital ones tucked away in a myriad of numbered folders on my laptop, nor print versions. I’ve gathered the prints into an album. It sits on a shelf. Not in plain view for everyone’s eyes, but not particularly hidden either. I agree that a physical act of release can be a good thing, in many situations.
However, right now, I can’t bare the thought of throwing these photographs away. I probably never will burn them, either. And it’s taking a while to figure out why.

All I can think of at the moment is: it might be because I’m content. I’m happy with what was, and all the good in that relationship. So, for now at least, they’re “safe” from a dramatic final farewell.


PS: She did it. J has burnt her journals meanwhile, and I can tell you one more thing for certain – I surely will burn mine when I get a chance.

2013, January 28

Sometimes, the answer is ever-changing

What does “a good life” mean to you? This was the question. And there were so, so many wonderful, heart breaking and tears inducing answers.

My answer?

“Hmm…” (I typed that and immediately ran a different direction leaving my comment on my friend j’s blog post in midair. Then I went back and elaborated on that).

I was thinking I don’t know how to define a good life. Or how to best describe it. How to say everything I want to say in less than a way too long list.

So I’ll just say this. Maybe it isn’t about a definition. Maybe it isn’t about the best description. Or saying everything in a list or in one word.
Maybe it’s all about that little inner compass pointing North when we’re headed in the right direction, and standing still when we have reached it.

And maybe, just maybe, the answer is ever-changing. Much like ourselves.

2012, August 29

Thoughts from places…

… because those Vlogbrothers video titles are awesome and they are always my favorite of their videos.

Here are my thoughts from places, while on hiatus these past few weeks. ( Missed you guys! <3 )


I am completely fine with having to reorganize my suitcase several times before leaving, both home and the places I visited, because I packed too many books.



Everywhere I go, I see hearts. And everywhere I go, I see something I can turn into art.


People who disagree with you and correct you every step of the way, even if they are actually adding to the conversation, are so tiring.


Life and death are so intertwined; just like each and every moment in between.


Death has a way of catching up with you when you’d rather try and recover from a loss… But if there is such a thing as a beautiful death, it must be that of simply falling asleep and dying of old age.

Funerals are for the living. And when you miss a burial, you can’t help but feel that loss just a bit more painfully every single time the subject comes up.



Thinking of Connie’s Sky, I took pictures that day. And though I’m so many miles away, and was very far even from an internet connection – I felt so very human and so connected to Connie Hozvicka, to Jill and to Judy. I think it’s within human nature to forget this sometimes, but we do hold each other’s hearts in our hands.


Annie Q. Syed said in one of her Still Sundays posts, which I managed to read while on hiatus, that: “in stillness I am reminded life changes course in the small plans that may appear magnified because there is no map.”

I fully understand that. And would like to add, that, sometimes even with a map it’s possible to lose track of our journey and spend too much time in paper towns.


I left behind a love letter in one of the passenger cars of the steam train we rode in. Because there is magic in everything. IMG_6962-1


Balance. Not easily found. Not easily kept. I’m still searching for it. For just the right balance that I need. I finally feel like I’m on the right track.


2012, January 3

Recap: Choosing throughout 2011

Turns out, this has been a year of surprising myself.

I chose one little word, and eleven more, a sentence, for 2011:
I chose to hope, dare, live, smile, dream, love, create, appreciate, listen, leap and enjoy.


– Decided to take each day for what it is. A new day.

– In the midst of business, it felt so lovely to notice, to appreciate, and not walk past small gems (like poppies by the tracks).

– Thought about my being a writer, and ended up wondering if people living with writers understood them? I cam to the conclusion that they almost never do, but I will keep writing anyway. It has to be important to me, not other people.

– Defined courage as rushing into oncoming traffic, on all Life’s stages, on a daily basis.

– Started sharing two of my passions, writing and traveling, through articles about the places I’ve seen on Milliver’s Travels where I’ve joined the staff since July.

– Raveled in the beauty (its way of showing love) nature provides and enjoyed walks.

– Gave my best to just being myself and checked in with my soul. Talked about why I write, how I started and what writing looks like to me. Pushed myself out of my comfort zone.

-Realized that I wasn’t afraid to be by myself back when five adults managed to lose me, between lost and found, four years old, in a shopping center full of strangers.
This has led me to realize that there’s no reason in the world why it shouldn’t be like that today.

– Managed to clear some clutter and clear my mind during the process.

– Found it interesting how, while CDs can’t record anything else besides computer data – they can bring up millions of memories the Heart records so well!

– While finding the right spot for one of my plants, I thought of how much I want to grow roots somewhere, even if I’m not yet entirely sure where the perfect spot for me is.


And as much as I wanted to, I haven’t really kept in mind that sometimes, when it’s least expected, it works the other way around too. However, something wonderful happened. Words, characters, books, songs, places, objects, people, feelings, dreams, happenings… Life – chose me.

There has been tons of surprises throughout 2011. As I mentioned it above, I’ve surprised myself. And it has also been a year of growth. A friend brought this to my attention last week and although I’ve noticed it myself, looking back it’s more prominent.

I’m not the same person I was seven years ago. I’m not the same person I was at the beginning of 2011. And I’m not the same as yesterday.

I liked it right there, right then. But I most definitely like it right here, right now!

Here’s to a 2012 as filled with surprises, change and growth as last year was!

2011, July 18

A check-in with my soul

I’ve seen the ocean. I’ve watched sunrises and sunsets. I’ve visited Hungary, Sicily and France. I’ve traveled a bit in Romania too. I’ve heard silences louder than words. I’ve noticed the meaning behind a touch. I’ve listened to music played from the heart. I’ve read lines which spoke to me. I’ve written phrases which touched souls. I’ve felt fear, sadness and betray. I’ve also felt happiness and love. I’ve experienced feelings and things I never would’ve thought I would. I’ve found my way out of the dark. I’ve trusted my first instincts. I’ve been wrong. I’ve also been more than right. I’ve held hands with people I love. I’ve waited and I’ve been patient. I’ve cried. I’ve smiled. I’ve laughed. I’ve made wonderful friends. I’ve failed. I’ve succeeded. I’ve caught a glance of other’s affection for each other. I’ve heard the exact words I needed to hear in the exact moment I needed to hear them. I’ve put up walls – I’ve torn them down and then built them back up again – I’ve realized it’s a process. I’ve decided to choose. I’ve changed. I’ve let go – over and over again.
I’ve crafted myself a life, which although imperfect, I like. I’ve lived a little magic.


* Inspired by Lisa McCray’s What I’ve Seen, which was brought to my attention by the awe-inspiring J.

2011, July 13

Writing away a piece of my soul

Writing… We all do it. Bloggers do it. Writers do it. I’m a writer. Right?

I wrote my very first blog post when I was upset. Really upset. I cried all the way through.

I started my blog at a time when, after a health scare, after a life scare, everything around me seemed pitch black.
And it helped. The tiniest ray of light shined through from deep within. Things started brightening. Yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough.

I wrote my very first flash fiction when I was sad. Really sad. I cried all the way through.

Before I started creative writing, I’ve been reading a lot of it on my friends’ blogs. I kept wondering how they managed to write so well, to leave me speechless. To inspire me to such heights. I believe it was/is the personal touch. The fearlessness of imperfection.
The friend (and wonderful editor) who inspired me the most was the first person to read that very first piece I wrote. She loved it. She’s the reason I started writing. And I am the reason I’m still writing.

I transferred all my pain, all my sadness into the piece I wrote.
And it helped. The story couldn’t be further from the reality of my life, yet it absorbed everything I was working through.   
In one sitting.
Most of what I write, I write in one sitting; I can’t really leave a story unfinished until I don’t have an at least very rough draft. I wrote several pieces like that one in the same manner. Yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough.

This year, I’ve mostly written poetry that bares a profound meaning to me. And come to think of it, almost all the poetry I’ve written is very personal, goes to a deep level, even when readers wouldn’t notice that no matter how many times they read said poem. I like that about free verse. I like that about poetry. Yet, somehow, it seems like it wasn’t enough.

Because the same goes for my blog posts. Especially lately. After that very first blog post I wrote, for a very long time my posts weren’t too personal. They all reflected what I love, hate, question, etc. They all reflected me. But they weren’t filled with as much emotion and meaning (again, even if only perceived by me alone) as my latest posts are.
This is something I noticed as I was searching for a poem I wrote, among my very first poems. I went back through my blog posts as I searched and noticed the shift through them.
Not from one extreme to the other. Not from one day to the next. But gradually. Steadily.
And the only writing there’s no shift in? The poems. They started out intricate and remain the same.

I wrote these imperfect thoughts you’re reading last night when I was supposed to be sleeping. When I was anxious. Really anxious. About most everything. With all the memories coming back to me. I cried all the way through.

What the conclusion was supposed to be when I started writing this I can’t recall. However, the conclusion now is this: it helped.

Yet, somehow, it isn’t enough. So I will keep writing away little pieces of my soul. And hope it will keep helping, hope it will teach me more about being fearless of imperfection.

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