The End Of An Era.

When I was a little girl, I drew.

I drew my dreams. Anything and everything I could not have at that given time, but could imagine in my dreams.
I drew with pencils on paper.
I drew my first apartment, the clothes I wanted, the future I imagined. The way I wanted to look.
I became absolutely proficient at drawing horses, as their romantic symbolism fueled my young mind.
As a teenager, I continued drawing, mostly escapist pictures for my girlfriends. Ethereal looking women, dreamy, with large eyes, full lips and flowing hair - they were a hit with my teenage peers.
Growing out of my teens, I moved to oil and over a few years created oil paintings, some of which still adorn the walls of my parents home, and until recently, my own walls in the white house on the hill.

As I became an adult and as my dreams shattered, I realized that life was hard and unforgiving, which took the fun out of drawing and painting and I stopped. All together.
Work and carrier took over.
Living took over to some degree as well.
Sometimes I wondered bewildered - how I could I no longer wish to paint and draw, something that was almost second nature to me...?
Yet, I knew deep within that a personal era has ended and nothing would be the same again.

And then, many years later, when life turned around and I entered a period of search and discovery once again, resembling a teenager in so many ways, but being an adult trying to find her purpose here,  I found something new and novel into which I channeled my creativity.
Writing and photography.

And as luck had it, I discovered blogging and my creativity turned into an outlet, enabling me to share my pleasure and pain, and my own life in the process, with millions of strangers.
Well, at least with all of you who are still around to read these few lines.

The last five years of my life, the ones that I have exposed to the world quiet publicly through my blog, has been the most defying years of my adulthood.
They took me through so many adventures and in such an intense way, it still makes me smile and ponder the incredible serendipity of life.
How much can unfold if we are only willing to find the courage to walk out on the limb and let it happen.
Let life happen.

Writing my online diary has been an incredible journey and I want to thank all of you, who are still here reading my last post.
Just like with my painting and drawing, I have reached an end of an era and find no longer a purpose nor need to continue.

I no longer find escape nor solace in writing - something I NEVER thought would occur. Yet my life has changed and thus so have my needs.
I no longer crave a creative outlet, as I have found my safe harbor, which grants me my dreams.

It took me half a lifetime to get here, but I have arrived and I have found my purpose in this life and my search is over. Instead I now devote my time to living.
And in some very odd way, my need to draw and paint has returned - not because I want to visualize my dreams, but rather document them coming through.

My dear friends, I do not write this post as a good bye, as experiences have taught me that we never know what lies around the corner.
Yet for now, this will be my last post before I stop writing indefinitely.

I want to dedicate it to all of you who have stuck with me through the years and who always had something nice or encouraging to say when I needed to hear it.
I would probably not be where I am now had it not been for all of you.

Thus all that remains to say is a big THANK YOU.
See you on the flip side.

xoxo
Zuzana

Here And Away.

Unintentionally, I have granted this diary with my absence.
Since my last post, cold spring turned into almost an early summer; trees, shrubs and bushes went from bare to green and bursting with bloom; the sun has gained in strength and our days grew longer, giving us several hours of extended light.
The best time of the year has indeed begun and I intend to enjoy it as much as I can, in the company of my family and foremost the man that I love, before his duty takes him away from me for months to come...

Thus forgive me that I am here now, but gone again. This is not a good bye however, this only to let you know that I will be back very soon, my dear friends. ♥

Moody March.

Our Fire

We are mid March and the subzero temperatures are back. The brief taste of spring at this month's onset disappeared as fast as it arrived - lady Winter is not ready to quit just yet.
As we all know, the first vernal month is capricious and moody. It can switch between seasons at its own fancy, testing our patience and tolerance. In my native language, there is a rhyme that describes this third month something like this; March, lets get back to the fire.

And that is indeed my favorite spot currently. In fact that is where I am sitting right now, typing away.

Our house came with a wood-burning stove. Even though it can by no means match the beauty of my old fireplace in the white house on the hill, it does what it is suppose to do - it creates a cozy, warm spot in our living room. Equipped with a glass door, it enables me to watch the fire. I love everything about it - the scent, the sound and the hypnotic dance of the flames that so easily make my mind travel in time and space.
This feature is one of the reasons why I fell for our house at first sight.

Beam Of Morning Sun

There is yet another illumination defining my perception currently; the increasing daylight.
The light - whether it is the lack or abundance of it - is my infinite fascination with the European North. I love the incredible shifts that the seasons here provide. The winter and the summer differ about eleven hours when it comes to light - and we are only in southern Scandinavia.
Our home does not have any spectacular views of either sunrises or sunsets, still the bay windows of the north facing kitchen can offer alluring morning views. Recently, during a winter dawn, the young sun emitted a beam of light, shooting straight up across the purple sky like a solar laser, creating an unforgettable moment.

View Into Our Living-room

The house is starting to look like a home. It is amusing to watch my belongings emerge from all the boxes, being mixed with my husbands possessions. I have not seen my things for the past year and a half and it is infinitely exciting to realize that our items fit together so very well and that we both have similar taste in interior design.

Sometimes I have to smile when I think about how one single decision, the one that I took against all odds and the one that made my family and friends question my sanity - took me here. Today no one any longer doubt my abilities to choose, even if it took me a while to get my choices right.

My phone chimes as a text message arrives from my stepdaughter. She is out with her friends and I am sitting here, in the warmth of the flickering fire, waiting for her to come home safely.
She is my responsibility today, as are the boys, while their father is once again away through work, an occurrence I am slowly getting accustomed to.
Her text is full of affectionate words that touch me almost to tears...

I experience a momentary flashback to when I was a teenager and my own mom was waiting for me and my sister, to come home from a dance, or a party.
My husband's daughter is as carefree as I was then and I am as worried sick, as my mother was.

Text From My Stepdaughter

It is not easy to be a step mom and half of the time I have no idea what I am doing. I move constantly in an uncharted territory, being thrown into a substitute parenthood of three teenagers, who two years ago did not even know I existed. I find it difficult at times to relate to my role - I am not their mother, nor will I ever be, yet I participate more than just a friend in their life.
Furthermore I missed out on their early years, I never seen them as babies or children and just jumped into a life in progress - I do not know the first thing about raising kids, least of all teenagers.
In the end of the day though all I can do is to trust that my love and good intentions are enough... The touching words in my stepdaughters message are at least a good indication that I am on the right track.

A log falls over in the fire and Sammy shifts in the chair opposite me.
All of the Sammy (aka Batcat) fans will be happy to learn that my feline companion is doing superb. He survived the move without any problems. The initial shock of the relocation lasted only a couple of hours and already on the first day, Sammy happily roamed the house, searching for his new favorite spot.
On sunny days he can be exclusively found napping inside one of our southbound windows. Watching him sleep this way is extremely soothing, as no one can relax and enjoy life as the felines can.
One day I hope he will let me in on his secret.

Our "Sammy boy"

Musings Medley.

It has been more than a month since I last time updated this online diary and it is good to be back. I wanted to return much sooner, but my thinking was preoccupied with the pleasures of life rather than with forming coherent sentences worthwhile writing down.

I am still finding it difficult to do so.
The longing to sit down and submerge myself in self reflective prose is there, but my happy and content reality offers no philosophical contemplations. Embracing this I can always turn my writing into a medley of more creative and descriptive kind, the one that indulges and enjoys - as after all, I want my diary to reflect the true state of my life.

Thus September came and went, as I savored the bliss of sweet reunion with the only man that has ever made me feel complete. Falling into his embrace a few weeks back was the most single exhilarating experience I ever recall. Getting reacquainted with my husband took no time at all - to once again have the privilege and pleasure of each others company is heaven personified for both of us.

Not that we do not have our disagreements and small tiffs.
As two very different individuals with strong convictions we do face conflicts at times, yet our passion for life and for each other and our undying optimism prevents us from arguing for more than minutes at the time. Usually I am the one who flies of her hinges, while my husband is steady and firm as a rock, bringing me back to reality, making me smile and feeling silly, forgetting instantaneously what was it that upset me in the first place.
This is a novel concept for me - in my former relationships, conflicts usually escalated until they were the only constant in my days. It has made me realize that relationship that survive the tides of time and remain loving and harmonious are not the ones that lack conflicts and disagreements, but the ones who posses the skill and talents to overcome them, while turning these into moments of learning and growth.

While I directed my attention to life, reunion, short travels and family, nature continued its yearly cycle unnoticed and fall arrived silently, yet definitely. October is an ornate month and a month of incredible changes and contrasts. It goes from green to fiery red and golden, from sunshine to twilight, from mild to cold, from autumn to the early onset of winter. It always comes across as time span that stands between seasons and it can bring our way the heat of Indian summer at its onset or the first frost and maybe even flurries as it concludes.

I write this bundled up in blankets, in the shine of subtle candle light, while the twilight envelops the world outside. It is bewildering that only a month ago the sun was still hours short of setting and the warm evenings ruled our reality.
As we reach mid-fall, the damp air and the darkness make me long for the warmth and comfort of a crackling fire and in fleeting moments my mind returns to my old white house and its wonderful fireplace.
My life there has by now become my past.

It is amusing to ponder when exactly does something that comes across so real and tangible enter the past tense. Is it after weeks or months, or is it years... Most likely this is decided by the contents of these experiences and the extend with which they affect our reality - and the extend in which we move forward.

Having watched four seasons pass outside our windows, my present is today ruled by a welcomed sense of familiarity and routines, by love and comfort. Yet it is also messy, unpredictable, vibrant and in motion.
My life is at last the adventure I always longed it to be and I enjoy being busy living it.

"Once In A Blue Moon".

Once in a blue moon - that is what we tend to say, when something occurs very rarely.
And indeed, this morning when I opened my eyes, I revisited an old childhood feeling. I woke up full of excitement, anticipation and longing, just like I used to feel when it was Christmas Eve. Generally long gone from my perception, these emotions grace me only occasionally with their presence.

The last time I felt this way was on my wedding day.

Today is indeed the day - or night - of the blue moon, when the second full moon of this eighth month will grace the night heavens. The celestial lantern has been shining like a large silver globe outside our windows for the past few evenings, expanding in my view, reminding me of the significance that today holds in my perception.

Today the man to whom I have given my heart will return into my embrace.
Today, my husband comes home.

I have married a man whose life is defined by honour and whose traits are defined by chivalry and courage. In my eyes he is a perfect man, a knight of modern times, the likes of whom truly do only come by once in a blue moon. He offers me something unique - pure and unconditional kind of love, the kind which transcends time and space. Yet additionally he also grants me a life that will be forever changing, like an endless adventure. Despite the anguish and fear that my reality will always contain, it will never grow mundane or predictable, but remain fiercely passionate and enthralling.

Recently I was siting in our garden - it was a warm August evening. One of those very rare ones, when the wind was non existent, the sky clear and the late summer sun was setting in my view. It created a déjàvu in my perception, as I was brought a year back, writing a transition post in this same spot, consumed by a sense of content, warmth and feeling at home.
Finding myself experiencing identical - if not even more enhanced - emotions today, I know that I am exactly where I am suppose to be...

Dear friends, thank you for sharing the wait of these past four months with me - I made it to a large extend thanks to all of you and your encouraging and comforting words and your genuine interest in my writing -  my prose serves at all times as an creative outlet and an emotional release and I enjoy documenting my life in this online diary. 

See you all very soon, I shall return.♥

The Sunday of Summer.

August Bloom In Our Garden

August is much like a Sunday. It is still weekend, but the threat of Monday is imminent. In the case of August; it is still summer, yet autumn is approaching fast.

The second season this year was a total disappointment weather wise, going down as one of the coldest and rainiest in history. Luckily, its ultimate month did granted us a few warm days, even if they came a little too late. That unmistakable finale hangs now in the air, while the sun lies ever so low above the horizon and its shine grows golden. The atmosphere resonates with maturity, as crops grow heavy and all the fruit and berries ripen, getting ready for the harvest at the onset of fall.

Although I am saddened by the fact that my favorite time of the year is concluding, the seasonal changes are nevertheless reassuring and simultaneously alluring. The natural circle mimics the events in our own life, where the good and the bad alternates, creating a vital balance.
The older I get, the more I begin to realize that everything, whether it is positive or negative, has its purpose to play. So many times in my past have I seen my dreams crushed and that which I have hoped for pass me by, yet in hindsight I know that the doors that eventually opened led me to better places.

Heart Formed By Our Candle

This is how I met my husband - after a period of tragedy, disappointment and personal loss, feeling discarded and abandoned, I painfully watched as a door slowly closed forever on an ineradicable dream. Yet as I picked myself up, gathering the last of my strength, ready to continue living again, refusing to give into despair and resignation, for once I decided to walk through the gate that was opened  -  and there he stood, the man of my dreams. The one I have been waiting and feverishly searching for my whole life, offering me hope, love and new dreams. I will forever be left wondering how this came to be and only a belief in the spiritual and divine offers any explanation.
Very soon I will once again gaze into those steel blue eyes of his, deep and enticing like the North Sea, holding so much love and affection, as I once again fall into his embrace - the only place I feel completely safe and sheltered.

Until then, I see those same eyes in his children, while they laugh and rummage through the house, having kept me company this week. Thus my own, however deeply embedded parental instincts are brought to life. I am glad to notice how relaxed they are now around me, as compared to the initial few encounters - they behave currently very much the same as when their father is here with us. A time span of a year is certainly much longer in a child's perception - at this point my presence in their reality is something constant and comforting.

My Pasta Salad

I am therefore becoming more sensitive and experienced in areas I have not needed to before. Being thrown into parenthood, never having to raise my own children, I am excelling in other parts of life, such as improving my culinary skills. Considering myself at all times a disaster in the kitchen, I have come to the conclusion that this might not necessarily be the case. I just need some practice and perhaps one day I might even enjoy cooking - and be really good at it.

So much change has taken place in the past year and a half. As I briefly return to read my old posts, I can feel that I have changed too. All the challenges, alterations and new encounters of the past sixteen months have created a novel me.

Whether I am better or worse than before is impossible for me to asses, all I know with certainty is that I am the happiest I have ever been. Every change takes something from us as well as it gives.
The best life however is the one which is a work in progress, an unfinished painting, a diamond in the rough. A blank page to be yet filled with sentences describing new adventures and life altering reflections.

Home Is...

My whole life, I have been searching for a home. Or rather a sense to belong somewhere.
I am a child of immigrants, yet I was almost a teenager when my parents decided to pack a few of their belongings and flee in secrecy with their children to the west, with a hope to find a better life for themselves and for us.

Today, when Europe is united and moving around is easy and when the world is becoming globalized, it is difficult to imagine that once this continent was split into two ideologies and leaving the east behind meant one could never return. At least not without risking prosecution and imprisonment. A new generation has now grown up in this free Europe, learning from history books about the communism regime that once ruled their country.

Thus my life was spend as a foreigner. Being a sensitive teenager when I was uprooted and relocated, our immigration shaped my personality and my traits to a large extend. Despite my family's successful integration and adaptation, it was nevertheless an odd sensation to be sitting in social gatherings, with friends or in school, and discussing the current affairs or the state of "our country".
Or to participate in celebrations that dealt with that country's past, of the traditional or historical kind. I could never relate to these sentiments having no strong ties to my new home - no roots, no connection to past generations that lived there, no common history with it's inhabitants, nor a sense of familiarity with their traditions. Thus in time the need to feel those kind of emotions and that kind of belonging became my quest.

Yet this kind of disconnection made it also very easy for me to leave my new home and leave I did. In each new country I kept looking for the same sense of home and even though I adopted many new traditions and even in some cases felt stronger about an issue than the natives did, in time I realized that perhaps my search to truly feel completely home somewhere was futile. Particularly when I returned to the country of my origins only to realize that it lacked in providing the sense of it being a familiar home that I hope it would be, as it has changed beyond belief since I was a child.

It has been many decades since I lived with my parents, who themselves harbour the hearts of gypsies and have relocated numerous times and even moved between countries. Thus when I visit them, I visit their home, not mine.
When we stay with my father in law, we always sleep in my husband's old room. I have once asked him how he feels about being able to visit his childhood home on regular bases. He smiled and replied, slightly confused; "I come to see my father, not this house".
When we took a walk around the neighborhood and passed his old school and met his childhood friends and I inquired about similar sentiments when it comes to these encounters, my questions left him puzzled. I tried to explain that the luxury of being able to revisit and sense one's roots is to me extraordinary as it is something I can not really experience.
Yet seeing his aloofness in this matter is not something that bothers me, quiet the contrary - it disperses the importance of the issue and clouds the purpose of my lifelong quest.

We always miss that which we do not have.
My husband will not care much about being able to visit places where he grew up, as that is a natural occurrence to him and he can do it freely, almost whenever he chooses to. While for me the ability to visit my childhood home becomes crucial and almost vital, because it is not possible - to him it holds no allure because it is possible.

Simultaneously I am also realizing the relativity of things and the idea of what a home realy means is being redefined in my perception. It can be any place, even somewhere in the gutter and yet it can also be many places at once.
Eventually, if we can remove ourselves from our narrow visions and mindset and if we travel far enough, our home becomes a much larger place. Astronauts in orbit around the Earth look down upon our planet and view the beautifully coloured globe below as their home - without borders and petty conflicts between nationalities. I experienced a similar feeling when I lived in the US - I no longer viewed only one country as my home, but the whole of Europe.

Thus the idea to completely belong to that one special place is slowly becoming more obscure and I begin to realize that I will never find it, because of the life I have lived. On the contrary, I rather embrace the fact that my home is nowhere and everywhere.
Today I feel at home right here with the man that I love and his family, which welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like one of their own. I am at home in this country that has been my shelter for the past decade, yet I will also always be at home with my own family, due to the strong ties we share, no mater where in the world they are.
I realize that my life is like a large tapestry, still in the making. Each pattern speaks of one unforgettable place in time - one that was my home for a while - and foremost of the people that made it feel as such. Ultimately home is a place I carry in my heart.

"I have been very happy with my homes, but homes really are no more than the people who live in them."
Nancy Reagan

(All images in this post taken in our home and in and around the home of my father in law.)

Life Interupted, Yet Beautiful.

I spend the entire weekend writing.
I hoped the result would be a reflective prose, but reading it today, the words come across as gloomy, somber and melancholic. They do not flow and they feel negative - I guess they reflect the darker state of my mind and the gentle blues that hit me this past week.

I wrote about my involuntary solitude, and the negative aspects of loneliness and seclusion. About the lack of human touch over an extended period of time and what it does to our well being. How painful it is to miss someone we love and how unbearable it is to fear for their life every single moment of the day...
How sad it is to have life interrupted, being put on hold and paused and feel that time is standing still. How the absence of sun, the never ending rain, the darkness despite it being June bring on a strong sensory deprivation and momentary, but deep depression.

However, no matter how much I lament or wallow in self pity, one fact remains: this is my life. It might feel interrupted and at times very wrong, but right now it is all I have got.
Additionally, I have so much more. The sinister thoughts that cloud my mind occasionally prevent me from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

My writing is an outlet and a release, not just of the creative kind but also of the healing kind. Any form of sadness that I put down on paper, or screen, seems to leave me and the act of illustrating my emotions with sentences is the best form of therapy.
There is not always a need to share it with the world.

Thus instead of prolong words of sadness and complaints, let me leave you with a picture that brought a smile to my face this weekend. Watching felines relax as if they do not have one single worry in the world puts even my mind to ease and reinforces the belief that life is indeed beautiful, at all times.

The Same River Twice...

"You can never step into the same river; for new waters are always flowing on you. 
No man ever steps into the same river twice,  for it's not the same river and he is not the same man."

Heraclitus, Greek philosopher




The subject of time is currently the essence of my existence. This very relative subject occupies my thinking, or rather the different aspects of this elusive term. More closely, the effect that time has on us.

I am endlessly intrigued by the way our perception can modify time intervals, making them undefinable by scientific terms. Instead their length and the speed with which they proceed is determined by our experiences.
As life takes us on the journey from our past to our future, we rarely have the ability to be objective when assessing who we were and who we have become. Tracing back the decades in my own personal history I was under the impression that except for my physical appearance - I have not changed at all, or very little.
My values are still the same, so are my traits. I feel I am the same woman within that aged body and I still want and like the same things I did when I was twenty five. Yet I have recently realized that I am not the same person I was just a year ago - thus how can I possibly be the same woman I was thirty years back...?

Being currently once again - albeit temporarily - alone made this epiphany so painfully obvious. Only slightly more than a year ago I lived on my own. That was all I knew. Even though I longed for having someone to love, I was satisfied with my life and found solitude freeing and revitalizing. Yet today that allure is long gone. I can still manage it, but I do not enjoy it for very long. Reverting to activities that once made me happy and content, I was so surprised to realize that today they have the opposite effect.
What a truly shocking revelation. I could never ever imagine myself living alone again, a notion that is endlessly unsettling to experience.

Indeed, we never step into the same river twice, as the wise Heraclitus once proclaimed. Our experiences and our decisions change the direction of our lives and in its turn this irreversibly changes us. What once made us happy and what once defined our reality might no longer give us satisfaction and on rare occasions can even bring us grief and sadness.

We can never go back to what once was.
When we fully comprehend this statement, it will suddenly reinforce the meaning of our present and the immense value of who we are today, as well as the very profound significance of seizing the day. We might have dreams and wishes which direct the roads we choose to travel on in life. They fuel our hopes for the future. We also have our memories of the journeys completed.
Yet nothing holds more allure and importance, nothing is more tangible and real than our present and who we are today.

I am Titanium.

I love to write my reflection's posts in the early mornings or late in the evenings, when there is that certain stillness in a day. Currently, the white nights offer a late evening tranquility, which is saturated by tangelo skies and the absence of darkness, prolonging our days considerably.
Additionally, the weather gods have granted us our first summer week of the year, bestowing upon us uncanny hot days and warm nights. These enable me to sit out here, on our terrace, in the silver twilight, listening to the soft sound of crickets and watching the illuminated, albeit obstructed horizon in my view. The air is saturated by the perfumed scent of blooming lilac and moist with dew.

In a few days, May will end.  I have mixed feelings about the conclusion of this last spring month. In my eyes it is one of the best months of the year, as it is so defined by life and growth, by vibrant colours and by light. It carries so much optimism and a promise of the best to come and usually I relish in its beauty, wanting it to last forever.
This year however May was a month I dreaded. The sorrow of farewells at its onset made me wish it would never come and when it finally did, that it would pass quickly. I truly disliked the prospect of its thirty one days.
Yet here we are, barely a week away from what I once feared would take an eternity to reach. In hindsight I realize that it has passed faster than I expected. I have settled into new routines and have accepted my new reality. It is not always easy and some days are better than others. I do still go through sleepless nights full of worries about the safety of the man I love, when I have no one to turn to for comfort, but my self, despite the support of so many wonderful people in my life. Yet I also do have days when I feel strong and capable, feeling time works in my favour, knowing that the end of my ordeal will come. And beyond that end is a beginning to the best part of my life.

Apart from hearing the voice and seeing the face of my handsome husband that I love endlessly, three elements are currently responsible for making my days flow with ease; sunshine, warmth and nature. I have started small garden projects and once again the therapy of gardening becomes so very obvious in my recollection. There is something very reassuring and revitalizing in planting something and watching it grow.

Observing our wild garden through out the winter, I secretly spun plans on which flowers would best suit its large proximity. I realized that what I missed most from my previous residence was the variety of vines, blooming and scented or evergreens. Particularly that stunning clematis, which grew against the fence of my terrace at the white house. Those cobalt blue flowers that in July - August covered the south wall like a veil of blue. Inspired by its beauty, I planted a baby clematis of the same kind against our terrace and I love to look at its growing progress. It is subtle, but it is there. It will take a few years before its beauty will match the one I recall, and we might not even live here by then, but that is something I refuse to worry about.
I have also become slowly acquainted with our lawnmower - we are getting along better by each week. Mowing the lawn is something I dread and love simultaneously. This love/hate relationship has many origins. I love the physical challenges of the mowing itself and the scent of fresh cut grass is one of the best natural perfumes I know. Yet I dislike with all my beings the disposal of the cut grass. It accounts for many heavy sacks and many drives to a nearby recycling station in my husbands large car, which I feel not comfortable to drive in nor to navigate through the narrow lanes of the station. Nevertheless, I view this as a challenge that makes me grow and as weeks pass by I know it will get easier - until one day it is just another chore that needs to be done.

Yet, my driving skills have certainly improved over the last year, as I slowly and surely accumulate thousands of miles behind the wheel, due to my very long daily commute. As some of you might recall, my old "green lighting" and I parted our ways this winter and in its place the "BlueMotion" has entered. It is actually a term for the technology which fuels and powers this beautiful anthracite coloured car of mine, making it fuel efficient and environmentally friendly. I LOVE that car. It is my best friend and my sentinel, as it takes me safely everywhere. At times it feels as if it can truly fly. Just a touch at the gas pedal and it takes off so effortlessly through the landscape, like a silver bullet, leaving everyone behind. It is a feeling unlike any other and has redefined the way I feel about driving.

Its colour reminds me of titanium. As of lately, I have become fascinated by this metal. It comes across as the color of coal mixed with silver. By definition, it is very light and soft,  yet very, very strong.
We chose to have our wedding rings made of this metal. Every day I look at that band on my finger and I relish in its simple beauty, while the chorus of one of my favorite dance songs resonates in my mind;  
"I Am Titanium".
I love the symbolism behind ideal of a love that is gentle and soft yet tensile strong - or of human trait of the same kind. The one that bends in the strong winds, yet withstands the fury of its gusts, remaining intact through the storms of life.

I am Titanium... or at least I long to be.

Twelve Down, One Hundred And Fifteen To Go...

It is morning and I sit at our kitchen table. The house is uncomfortably quiet.

Looking at the wall calender on my left I see twelve red crosses drawn over the past twelve days. Twelve odd days have passed since I parted with the love of my life. He is currently thousands of miles away, in a distant, foreign country that I will never visit, making sure its inhabitants can face a better future.

These past twelve days can be summarized as a period of arduous re-adjustment. They have been at times extremely difficult and most of all very, very long. I am slowly forced to accept the fact that I am once again - against my will - alone and I try relentlessly to find some positive aspect of my new reality.

I have good days and I have bad days.

When it is as worst, it feels as if I can not stand this predicament a minute longer and I keep wondering why my fate is once again putting me through such an ordeal.
The first day was by far the most difficult one. After having said good by to my love, watching him disappear from my view, my world suddenly fell apart. I felt alone and abandoned, consumed by anguish, fear and deep sadness.
Even now, the notion of the prolong separation renders me at times emotionally unstable, leaving me with a sense of despair. I can not conquer the emptiness within, nor the state of panic that keeps rising, trying to overcome me.

Yet, as time moves forward, I also have days when all of this seems less dramatic - and they increase in numbers. These days are my beacons of light, illuminating the path in a long dark tunnel through which I am traveling. Brought on by a small simple pleasure or the beauty of natural wonders as they momentarily pass my views and consciousness.
And eventually by my positive thinking, which always disperses the train of unsettling thoughts. But most of all by the reassurance from the man that I love, in form of an endearing word or a kind voice, reminding me that he is still there and he still cares. More than I will ever know. And that he is safe.


Twelve down, one hundred and fifteen to go.
To endure so many more days without seeing his face or feeling his touch comes across as unthinkable.
However, when my sanity returns in those glimpses of light, I realize that I have to allow myself to mourn and to embrace the sadness, the longing and the deep pain, understanding these as something vital and good. It is a proof of deep affection and an intimate connection between two people in love.
Thus, as days move forward, I will slowly regain my bearings and turn this time into something beneficial and prosperous. Already I find gentle consolation in the notion that the countdown has at last begun. Only twelve down, yet twelve less that two weeks back. Time can be our friend and our enemy, yet it is constant and it moves forward bringing an end to everything, whether it is good or bad.

I am a firm believer in the notion that everything happens for a reason. The difficult and trying periods in our life truly have their purpose. They are a time of growth and learning and they bring us forward, saving us from stagnation. Eventually these create a healthy balance in our life, enriching us with beneficial experiences. Human psyche is very strong and we can get used to almost anything - we can always handle more than we think.

Thus even though the temporary separation from my husband is difficult and unbearable, it reinforces our devotion for each other and it makes the days we indeed get to spend together more precious and magical. My heart is saturated with so much love and I hope this love will prevent sadness and fear in gaining hold.

"This too shall pass."
The old saying holds so much significance in my eyes today. And I know in no uncertain terms that if I only endure this trying time, the best is still yet to come.

(Images: photobucket, with exception of the last and first image)

The Green Lightning.

The very first car that I drove as my own was a bright red, 77 Ford Thunderbird. I have just moved to North Carolina and barely had my license for a year, when I got the privilege to borrow this large wagon for my very own use. I was initially terrified at the mere prospect of sitting behind its wheel, but very quickly grew to love this old American legend.

After it was retired to my friends driveway, I bought my very first own car. It was a red Nissan Sentra with a few years on its back. Today I still have the old North Carolina license plate, which until very recently hang on the wall in my basement and now is tucked away somewhere in a box in storage. It stated "First In Flight" and the last sticker on it was from 99, the year I moved back to Europe.

When I relocated to Denmark, I bought my very first new car. A Toyota Yaris. I can still recall the incredible excitement when I drove it out of the car dealership and onto the road, as it was a beginning to a new life.

A car symbolizes so much and is such an important part of our life. My father can recall all the cars he has ever owned and the memories evoke a plethora of sentiments, as he travels in his mind all the way back to the early sixties and lists them one by one. They all have a place in his heart and all a story or two to tell.

Indeed, a car is often a necessity, at times a luxury but ultimately a possession that we bond with in an uncanny way as it is in our life for extended period of time. Over the years my green Toyota became my friend and recently it even received a nickname; The Green Lightning, as its tiny engine has been pushed to the limit in the past many months, while traveling at high speeds for hundred of miles each day, through any kind of weather.

It has served me well, bringing me safely to many destinations, whether in Denmark or abroad. It has been running smoothly, never letting me down, sparing me major repairs and trips to the mechanic. It has seen me through thick and thin, watched many passengers seated next to me, anything from family members to old friends, fleeting acquaintances, colleagues and boyfriends. It has help me move and transport all my possessions on numerous occasions and today it simply carries on its back more than a decade of my personal history.

Thus it was with a heavy heart that I was recently forced to realize that it's time with me has been concluded.
I had to face the fact that it's technology was outdated, it's power weakened and the heavy commute has begun to leave it's mark. Although fuel efficient at low speeds, it is unbelievably uneconomical at high speeds and it has been draining my wallet and my energy for the past eight months.

I never realized that it would be so difficult to part with a car.
Driving it over to the car dealer this past weekend, the exchange was made and we were presented with a shinning new Polo with state of the art technology and modern look. Gazing at my old friend for the last time, I felt a wave of grief enveloping me and struggled to hold back the tears that filled my eyes all of a sudden. Just like when I left my white house on the hill, there were mixed emotions of happiness over something novel and exciting, but also sadness over saying farewell to something very dear, a presence that has been vital and beneficial in my life for so long.

As I contemplated the wish and hope that after a quick make over it might still serve very well to someone new, I was handed the keys to my new car. Gazing at its shiny hood, I could not help but feel that it was smiling at me.
Thus I knew this was the beginning of a new, beautiful friendship.

Random Reflections.

I sit here with my cup off coffee, watching another midwinter morning unfold through the windows. It is going to be a cold but a sunny day, it seems. I am alone in the house, an occurrence quiet unusual to me presently - it is welcomed, but the perception that it will only last a few hours is also very comforting.
I do not miss the solitude of the single life at all. I miss perhaps having more time to write.

Time and its relativity is indeed what occupies my mind these days. Just a year ago I still lived in the white house on the hill, having an entirely different future ahead off me. It is only a year and yet it feels like another lifetime all together. Since I met the man to whom I have given my heart forever, I try to savour every single day as it was my last - I want my days with him to count and to be meaningful, as very soon we will be apart for months.

Our separation is on my mind constantly, even though I try to push it away. It will only last four months, yet because the past ten since he came into my life come across as an eternity, a time span longer than a week feels endless to me.
Thus comes May, I need to reorganize my life and have some projects planned to occupy my reality. One of them will be our garden. Our garden is wild and untamed and lets face it - barren. It needs desperately some attention and I will definitely be sharing with you this progress as soon as winter moves into spring.

I type this while I enjoy my morning coffee from a cup that was a Christmas gift from the children. I can say in no uncertain terms that it was the best gift I have received for a very long time - maybe ever - due to the sentiments with which it was given. It is a handmade cup with colourful drawings and writing all around. It states "Zuz, the best stepmother" and the word "dad" is written within a small red heart on the side. I still get teary eyes and a warm fuzzy feeling within when I hold it. I will never be a mom, something that is by now painfully obvious to me and this cup symbolizes that this as close to being a mother as I will ever be. It also reminds me of that single fact that families come in many different shapes and sizes and that I and Sammy have found ours.

Sammy, my bellowed feline companion is still around, if any of you wonder. He has fully adapted to his new home and has found new routines in an every day life. New places to nap at, new windows to watch the world from. New people to greet in the evening and new adventures to look forward to.
He - just like me, misses very little of the white house on the hill. The occasional sunset and my fireplace. That is about it. At times I miss some of my things in storage, still it is amazing how little we humans need to be happy. Material items and possessions bring only temporary satisfaction. Happiness lies in the things we do not own, but those we borrow and those we give away - joy, laughter, company and unconditional love, all locked into simple pleasures.

At times I lie awake in the night terrified. I am scared of loosing the happiness that is so infusing me today. I wonder so what I have done to deserve having so many wonderful people in my life all of a sudden and the thought of loosing them brings out the worst in me - my insecurities which arise from so many failed relationships and so many hardships in my past. Thus I fight a battle currently with myself, growing on a level I never had to before, simply by realizing that I am good enough and I deserve to be happy. Furthermore I try not to let past mistakes cloud my judgment and rule my present - I am learning how to trust again.

I have realized that I have spend my whole life looking for the ultimate security and it is dawning on me today that such thing does not exist. As the morning outside grows into the beginning of a new day, I will try to do the only thing that is my true prerogative - to seize this new day as it was my last and accept that life is unpredictable - which ultimately is its greatest allure.

"One has to abandon altogether the search for security, and reach out to the risk of living with both arms. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying."
Morris L. West

Current Reflections.

I have been somewhat absent from my writing here, for which I apologize. The will is there, the time is simply not.
When I left the single life behind a few months back, I left a lot of free time behind as well. Nevertheless, it is a loss I do not miss the least. On the contrary, I have never lived life so intensely as I do now and yet I feel so much has the potential to still unfold.

I find myself currently in a state of content. It is a novel feeling for me. This does not mean that I lack worries or problems, oh, a far cry from that I must admit. As of lately I struggle with our persistently and increasingly declining personal economy, trying to keep two homes, one close to unsellable.
However, it seems not to weight me down too much nor does it keep me sleepless. Why? Because when fears overcome me, I have always a broad shoulder to cry on and strong arms to support me. And a kind, steady voice to reassure me that everything is - and will be - fine. At last I have a man in my life that makes me feel safe, because he is just like me; believing in the same values and seeing life as an endless adventure, one that needs to be lived and savored. He never makes anything into a problem and he makes problems into nothing.

I have realized that in life we never get it all. At least not simultaneously. There is always that last part that needs fixing. I guess that is destiny's way of keeping us on our toes. Giving us something to learn at all times. If we only persist and never loose hope and a positive outlook, the lessons we learn will lead us to places of incredible success.

I have also come to the conclusion recently that we need so little of material possessions in our every day life. I have now lived for months in my new home and all I have brought with me from the white house are some of my clothes and personal belongings. And I miss nothing of my "stuff". Every time I visit the house and see all those items that I have collected over the years, I wonder why I kept so much junk. Why do we do this? Why do we surround us with things we never use? Perhaps it gives us some sort of security, makes us feel connected to our life and to our past. Small trinkets and gifts we do not want to discard due to sentimental reasons, and perhaps the idea that they might come to use at one time. They usually never do.

Do you feel you know yourself?
I thought I did, but honestly, I do not. Sitting here today, recollecting the past year and all that I have done, I have ultimately surprised myself. I have changed so much in such a short time and my priorities have been totally redefined. However, I do not think it is a tragedy at all. On the contrary, I think not knowing what we might be like or want in a few years (maybe even a few months) is what keeps life interesting. It is a sign of an ongoing personal change. To have it all figured out at any time in our life would make for an infinitely boring existence.

Finally, I have decided to pay attention to signs all around me. I have always done so, but I have become infinitely more sensitive to what the universe is trying to tell me, whether I will be ridiculed for this or not.  The other day when I was driving from work, consumed by anxious thoughts, I looked out to see an incredible rainbow.  I found consolation in its glorious beauty as the arch put my mind to ease.

Thus I am no longer scared of pain or set backs, as I know that after the rain the sun will eventually come out. And during the transition time, the reward for our endurance is a glimpse of an alluring rainbow.

Touched By An Angel.

I did not grow up with religious views, nor teachings. To attend church was strictly prohibited in the communist east. I was however baptized in secrecy, as my mothers uncle was a priest and my mom always exhibited a deep sense of beliefs, which became part of my life in an unforced way and felt very natural.
I can not claim thus to be religious, however I do carry a golden cross around my neck, I do pray at times and I believe that there is more between heaven and earth than can be explain by simple natural laws. Despite being a scientist, governed by logical thinking, I am also forced to keep an open mind, thus I see myself as a deeply spiritual being believing in the unseen and the mysterious.

Slightly more than a year ago, I decided to change my life.
Very drastically and basically from one day to another. Being stuck in a reality I did not enjoy and in a relationship that was draining me, I felt deeply unhappy and felt a force rising within me on regular bases, urging me to act. Knowing that waiting around for things to get better was futile, I opted to finish that which was already broken and started anew, jumping into the unknown and foreign, even though I was terrified. I embarked on a journey that took me through the most unbelievable twists and turns of fate, making me feel a broad spectra of emotions - anything from deep devastation and sadness to happiness of indescribable proportions.
Simply, I started to live and simultaneously, very interesting occurrences began to take place in my life, as I have described previously.  One of these has been an odd instance of numerology, which continues today still - even in a greater intensity than before - therefore it occupies my thinking, while I am trying to look for answers to this peculiar phenomenon.

I see sequences of numbers. Everywhere and daily.
The sequences wary, but they are there. Every time I gaze at an instrument that displays numbers or time, I see 13:13. Or 22:22. At times 12:34. Often this manifestation becomes very intense if I am worried, anxious or upset about some occurrence in my daily life.
The other day when I was driving home in my old Toyota, I glanced at the display in the panel in front of me. It showed 18:18 18. The first two digits signified time, the last the outside temperature in Celsius. I had to smile and recalled a similar event taking place a few months back, when we drove to Prague to visit my family this past July, when the same sequence was 22.
About twenty minutes later, gazing at the odometer I got to see this; 88988.
It seemed that on that particular day, the number 8 was of significance for me.

My numerous inquiries has led me me to realize that the explanations I seek might be as versatile as trusting this is only a natural statistical phenomenon or the revelation of our subconscious conveying hidden messages to believing that this is indeed a form of communication by someone divine, the angels.
What surprised me mostly during my search was the infinite number of people that seem to be experiencing the same sightings. Hundreds of people out there write about seeing particular sequences as well as seeing random sequences, at different periods in their lives. Even books has been published on this subject and when I mentioned my experiences to my mom this past summer, she read me a passage from one, stating in no uncertain terms that seeing sequences of numbers are the means by which our guardian angles tell us that we are on the right path.

Now, what do I choose to believe.
Perhaps I have been touched by an angel, the one who I have been praying to all those years when I cried myself to sleep. Or perhaps I have just tuned into something that has always been there, gone unnoticed to me before, until my senses became enhanced by life's experiences.
Whatever the explanation might be, one thing is certain - I have never experienced this phenomenon before last year, around the time when I found courage to take leaps of fate. Thus perhaps it is a sign given to me by something divine to trust myself and to trust the path I have chosen in life.
As after all, the result of that change has brought me to heaven on earth.

"Angels are speaking to all of us... some of us are only listening better."
- Anonymous 

Emotions Of Change.

Change - a term full of contradictions, yet the only constant in life.
Changes are never easy and feel more complicated and dramatic the older we get, but they are vital and important if we want to live fully and completely.

I do not think that I exaggerate, when I claim being an expert at changes. My life has been altered numerous times - in fact I feel that at this point it consists of several life times, woven together into an intricate personality tapestry, making me into who I am.

Thus today, while being in the process of altering my life once again, I know pretty accurately what to expect. I have over the years learned several vital facts about myself and about human nature over all, the most important being that we posses an uncanny way to adapt to new situations - something that makes us such a successful living species here on Earth. And I believe that those individuals that master this ability with an ease will always thrive and prosper.

Having made drastic changes in my life in the past, I know that my psyche undergoes a very interesting transformation and I go through many different emotional stages. I know at this point that it is extremely important to acknowledge them and process them all, as they reflect my state of mind. To ignore them would have devastating effect on my future well being.

So what exactly are my emotions of change?

Initially, there is that overwhelming feeling of excitement, almost exhilaration and the feeling of being invincible. It comes close to a reality denial, or a certain reality numbness.
Everything is possible.
This can last for extended period of time and gives rise to many moments of daydreaming, being a constant source of energy and happiness. Every change in my life came because I was looking for it and was yearning for it. Nevertheless the changes that actually do occur are unpredictable and are a result of combination of events, thus often the change we chose brings about in its turn some changes that we never planned on. Therefore slowly, the excitement recedes, but should still linger in the background, if we feel the changes we are making are the right ones.

As the exhilarating emotions subside, there is a time of awakening. A reality check. This can be more or less abrupt and a sobering experience, realizing all the practical aspect of a change and concluding that no matter how we turn the coin around, it has always two sides - and that good comes with the bad. Often at this point, there are feelings of fear and the mind is filled with anxious thoughts, at times deep worries and even remorse. "Better the devil you know" is a term so appropriate in this context. It is often very unnerving to undergo a change, even if the change is good, because the familiar - however bad and unsatisfactory - always feels so safe.

Here it is thus very important to realize, in my opinion, that every change consists of two stages; a loss and a gain. To acknowledge the loss is extremely vital, at least it is to me. I need to be allowed to part with what was, small ceremonies if you will and moments to mourn. I need to say farewell to my past in order to be able to move on into the future and to be able to accept the gain - as something good and new, rewarding and brilliant.

Once I leave the past in the past, hence comes the process of transformation, relocation and adaptation. I often feel I gain a second wind here, become more optimistic and full of energy, realizing - the change is happening now. A certain point of no return instigates a feeling of accomplishment and fresh resolutions, new starts and new beginnings. These are often not easy times and can result in a mixed outlet of tears and laughter, but these are the moments that usher us into our new existence.

And thus a new reality starts, an alteration of at times major proportions. A time of adaptation and discovery, a time of incredible personal growth and a realization of the endless strength we posses and what capable beings we actually are. Ultimately we gain an awareness of all the magic that exists in life, at all times available for us to seize, if we only dare to.
The many changes I have undertaken in the past have made me realize that life is truly beautiful - if we only have the courage to live it.