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"

What's Another Year...

Returning from my extended absence, I find it somewhat difficult to adequately begin the very first post of this year.
I have drafted so many over the course of the Holidays, yet finding no opportunity to polish my writing into an acceptable format due to lack of time, it slowly became outdated and obsolete.
Additionally, I am experiencing an unexpected decline in my language skills. Despite the fact that I can express myself in five languages, English has until now been without a doubt the one I master the best - I can speak it fluently, write it with ease and I can use it to convey all aspects of life - both personal and professional.

I became proficient at speaking English during my years in the US and continued to excel in it while conversing on every day bases with the Irishman.
Today however he is long gone from my life and instead I find myself talking exclusively in Danish with my husband, my extended family and the kids. Slowly I begin lacking words and writing has become cumbersome, as a new vocabulary takes over my thinking.

It is odd, being in this linguistic no man's land, even though I have tried it numerous times before. Yet in my adult years I no longer posses the brilliance and speed of a young mind. Thus eventually, I can never fully master the novel tongue, while the old slowly begins to disappear into a vocabulary abeyance.
Being multilingual is a blessing and a curse.

Still, my love for writing is always there, simmering in the background. I thoroughly enjoy putting down my thoughts into words, documenting my life in the process, even though very little life altering wisdom can be perceived in my reflections these days.
Today I do more living than thinking.

Thus as the two faced God Janus once again seizes the reign over our world, I wonder what is in store for me as I set out onto a novel voyage through another set of pristine twelve months. Looking ahead, there is so much anticipation; a new home, perhaps a new job. The future seems undefined and adventurous.

Yet simultaneously, it comes across as unsettling.

By the time summer reaches its peak, I will once again see the love of my life temporary leaving me. Having tried it before, I know what to expect - many sleepless nights, torment, anguish and longing. Even though our forthcoming separation might be nothing like the last one, I brace myself for the hardship of yet another set of four months without him by my side, while I will try to find the courage deep within to be the woman he needs me to be, allowing him to fully concentrate on what he has been trained to do.
Having lived on my own more than half a life time I have no problems with solitude. In fact, I am very peculiar about the people I associate with and I rather be alone than in crowds.
With this said though, never before have I had such a desire to constantly crave the company of another human being, as I do my husband's. I covet his close proximity, his touch and caress. I miss him intensely even when we are apart for a day.  
"You're different with him. He moves, you move. Like magnets..." - an excerpt from a dialogue in the Twilight Saga series, no other set of words could more adequately describe my own romance.

Looking back, I conclude that so many years in my past have come and gone, melting together into this undefinable span of time, vanishing into oblivion. I like to believe that these were not wasted, but served a purpose in their own right, becoming an intermission in my life, when days progress in slow pace and when my being did strive to renew itself, while in pursuit of my dreams.
I carry a few such years in my suitcase and will without any doubt encounter these in my future.

Yet I also carry the memories of years that defined me, changing the course of my personal history, compelling me to set out onto epic journeys. These did not always end well, yet they were full of adventures and paramount progress. I feel that a lifespan that alternates the period of action with period of leisure and lethargy, is full and complete.

As I so perceptively perceived a couple of years ago, the period of the latest stagnation has passed and I have entered my personal golden age.
When - if - I once get the privilege to look back upon this part of my life, I will always remember it as one of the happiest. It will go down in my recollection as the most intense and vibrant.
I will always view it as the onset of my very own 'Age Of Aquarius'.

Wonderful Moment In Time...

For the first time in years do I get to celebrate Christmas with children.
There is that wonderful atmosphere in the air, the one that the mind of a child brings to this time of the year - the sense of utter enchantment and anticipation and that special joy that the adult mind lacks.
Yet the one that is so very contagious...

Sneaking away from the busy preparations, I would like to wish you all, my dear friends, the same moments of wonder and joy that are saturating my world today.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU

from my home to yours

"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.

One Hundred Days.

Since my husband left our home - and me - in the beginning of May, to temporary serve another country for four months, I have carried out a small, yet vital ritual every evening.
Just before I turn in for the night - I cross off each passing day in our calender and say a little prayer for his safety.
It has been an incredibly rewarding process, watching each week pass and the blank page of each month becoming saturated by red marks - signifying my personal countdown.
Thus this Thursday marked the hundred day since we parted.

One hundred days alone, one hundred days without his kisses, his touch and his presence, one hundred days of readjustment, longing and worries. Yet hundred days full of personal growth and new learning experiences, making me realize over and over again how much I cherish my life and its versatility and simultaneously making me so aware of the precious, deep, passionate and foremost pure love that we share between us.

One hundred.
A number that can feel infinitely large and yet infinitely small. One hundred seconds are barely two minutes of our lives - nothing but a fleeting instant and we can grasp and comprehend it. One hundred years can define our own life time - if we are lucky - and we can still understand this duration. Yet take one hundred decades, which comprise a millennium, a time span infinitely more difficult for us to imagine and which can see entire civilizations come and go.

Thus, to celebrate my one hundred milestone, here are some random fun and interesting facts about this symbolic number.

· In Latin, 100 is centum and the Roman numeral for this number is C.
· 100 is the basis of percentages (per cent meaning "per hundred" in Latin), with 100% being a full amount.
· 100 is the sum of the first nine prime numbers, as well as the sum of four pairs of prime numbers (47 + 53, 17 + 83, 3 + 97, 41 + 59).
· On the Celsius scale, 100 degrees is the boiling temperature of pure water at sea level.
· The United States Senate has 100 Senators.
· "The First Hundred Days" is an arbitrary benchmark of a President of the United States' performance at the beginning of his or her term.
· Most of the world's currencies are divided into 100 subunits; for example, one euro is one hundred cents and one pound sterling is one hundred pence.
· The number of years in a century is 100.
· The Hundred Years' War (1337-1453) between France and England lasted 116 years.
· The largest bank note in England is the one hundred million pound note, nicknamed Titan.
· A centurion was an officer in the army of ancient Rome, commanding 100 men (centuria = 100 in Latin), although in reality he only commanded 60-80 men.
· In the Christian literature, the number 100 appears as symbol of the celestial beatitude.
· The second reigns of Napoleon lasted 100 days, from March 20 to June 22, 1815. It ended by the defeat of Waterloo.
· In the year 100, the wheelbarrow makes its first appearance in China and bricks become the primary building material in the Roman Empire.
· 100km is the altitude at which the FAI defines that spaceflight begins.
· Yesterday it was 100 days since I last kissed my husband.♥♥♥

"Fortuna Caeca Est".

Fortune Is Blind

The above sentence is carved onto a stone wall in old Roman style letters above a tunnel high in the Austrian Alps. It was suddenly in my view, as my family traveled south one summer when I was a teenager and I glanced at it at the very moment the car entered the tunnel. The sentence immediately peeked my curiosity, thus I scribbled down the words on a piece of paper, to later enter them in my journal. The one where I wrote interesting quotes and book excerpts, in order not to forget them.
It was first many years later that I learned the meaning of the Latin words:  

Fortune Is Blind.

Luck is a funny thing and already the ancient philosophers shared many ideas on how it impacts our lives. I know that I myself have had my share of both the good and the bad, but whether that was a product of luck I am not certain.

My Lucky Charm

When I felt the least fortunate, I recall feeling very lonely in my pain and predicament. I believe loneliness must be one of the most difficult ordeals in the life of humans. In my perception, it comes as a close second to the most devastating predicament one can be subjected to - ailing health, ours or someone we love.
I rather be poor than lonely. I rather be unsuccessful and miserable in any other way imaginable, as long as I am not alone. The idea of prolonged loneliness that I was facing once in my past used to haunt me even though I would choose solitude every time, rather than the company of someone I did not care for.

One of the most appealing aspect of life is that it can surprise us at at any moment, as the dices of our destiny are thrown. In just one year did I not only meet the love of my life, but I also gained the love of his adorable children and his extended family. As if by a stroke of incredible luck I was suddenly granted an honest affection from extraordinary people, dispersing the fears that once used to envelop me.

My Charm Bracelet

Meeting my extended family for the very first time reinforced in me the idea of reincarnation and having lived before. It felt like coming home - in the most literal way possible, like I never felt before. Even though at first glance I am easy going, open and tolerant, there are very few people that I genuinely feel comfortable with. Yet, when I am with my husband and his family, it feels as if I am exactly where I am suppose to be - in fact it feels like it has always been this way, for much longer then a year.
Sadly, I will never get to know the woman that bore the man I love, as she is long gone, but I am fortunate enough to have spend many wonderful moments in the company of my father in law.
The father of my husband is a special man and I can clearly see where my soul-mate gets his manners and admirable traits. He is humble and yet jovial with a life enforcing conduct and an aura of incredible familiarity.

Recently, my father in law send me a lovely birthday card, a greeting filled with words that I will never forget. Yet most of all, it will remain forever in my recollection for the gift that followed the card.
He send me a lucky clover.
A simple, yet rare plant, which he collected on one of his recent morning walks. It was pressed and meticulously taped onto the side of the card, accompanying his inner hopes for my good luck... A priceless and most memorable gift I have received to date.

My Lucky Clover

I have waited a long time and had to endure rough times before I found my share of good luck that has been infusing my life for the past year. At times I wonder what exactly have I done to deserve such good fortune as I know from experiences that nothing good last for ever and bad things happen to good people.

Ultimately though I have always believed that we are the creators of our own luck. It does not come from amulets and charms, but from our beliefs and our conduct, our hopes, our love and our longing. It is the state of our mind and the way we view life.
Good fortune is a product of hard work and endless perseverance and will smile at us as long we believe in it's charm, but never rely on its presence.

June Reflections.

June is my favorite month of the year, without a doubt, closely followed by July and May. I am a summer child and those of you who have been following my writing for years know that I and Mr. Summer are involved in a candid, but everlasting love affair.
I love June mostly for its light. Living almost as north as one can in Denmark, I carry out currently almost a daily ritual of stepping outside close to midnight, to feast my eyes on the illuminated night sky.

Climate wise, June and overall the third season in Scandinavia can be defined as a warmer spring, or April times three. Summer often rains away and it feels as if it ends before it even begun, while we still patiently wait for it to start. The days when the temperatures sneak above 20C can often be counted on the fingers of one hand. However, once in a blue moon we do also have exceptional summers that defy the rule and every year we hope that this will be the one.

As I sat bundled up in our garden a week back, enduring strong winds and clouds, risking to catch pneumonia, the occasional sun peaking through and it's warming rays hitting my face felt though like a vital therapy. The air was incredibly fresh. Inhaling it deeply I felt it purified my entire being. It's consistency so clear, so icy cold yet so clean and so saturated by the scent of the North Sea. I was suddenly - and momentarily - in awe of the weather conditions in the land I call home. I found inspiration in the rugged beauty, unpredictability and a life force of this climate, the one that fuels growth, lushness and bloom.

Sensing the weather elements with all my being, my eyes were drawn to an ivory clematis, planted by the previous tenants of the house. My husband is a perfect man in many ways, but he is definitely no gardener and the plant has been neglected for years. This spring the vine received the proper care and thus it grows with uncanny speed, stretching its tentacle like leafstalks ever so higher up the wooden terrace pole. I watched them swaying in the gale force winds and simultaneously could not help but notice that some grabbed onto the wooden pole in an almost human like way. The growing stalks of clematis are extremely delicate - pull slightly and they will break. Yet they can cling onto a surface in the most dexterous and proficient way, appearing tough and rugged, almost like there is mastermind, an intelligent thinking behind this action. It made me contemplate plants as lifeforms and whether they perhaps are much more complex than is assumed.

I have noticed that I mention my husband in almost every post and I assure you that is unintentional. I guess he is always on my mind and that will ultimately show in my writing. Sometimes it dawns on me, that I am indeed married. We got married only a week before he left and thus the event first now settles into my perception as reality - yet the sheer excitement of the fact still sends shivers down my spine.
I love being married.
I miss him terribly, at times every cell in my being longs to hold him... There are moments when I think that I simply can not go on one more second without feeling his touch and I fall into a temporary depression. But then a new day dawns and I get up from the ground, brush myself off and get on with life. I am thankful for this experience, no matter how hard it is at times, as it is reshaping me as a human being, building my character, my stamina and my resilience.

I am glad though that I can sense him everywhere in the house. His things, his clothes, his smiling face in the pictures of us - it all makes me feel as if he is about to return at any moment. And yet, now that a month has passed since his departure, the house is changing. I find this very interesting and utterly fascinating. The children are not here with me either, only the occasional visit here and there, thus this house bears more and more an imprint of me. Most of all its scent. Have you ever noticed how every home has its unique scent. I guess it is a scent that defines its occupants and is initiated by the life that flourishes within its walls. Our house has lost the scent I recall, when I visited it for the first time. It has a scent that is no longer a foreign one to me, but a very familiar and comfortable one. The one of my home.

I saw the film An Education the other day. It was a sweet movie, not making the big impression on me that I have hoped, yet I was entertained. Nevertheless, there was a scene that will stay with me for a long time. The female heroine - Jenny - contemplates;   

"Action is character", our English teacher says. I think it means that if we never did anything, we wouldn't be anybody. 

I think this is my life philosophy summarized in the most eloquent way.
Indeed, our actions are the essence of our life. We might not always do the right thing, but remaining standing still in a safe place makes us into nobody.

In my life I  have surely taken the wrong turns more times that I care to admit. Still, it never deterred me from taking action. Considering all the places I have been to and all the unforgettable experiences and encounters I have created along the way, I can safely conclude that perhaps I will never be anybody special - yet I will never be a nobody.

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)

"Amor Vincit Omnia".

I return to my online diary after almost two months absence, in the height of spring, at the onset of white nights and a period of growth and renewal.

A diary is a like a time capsule. It captures events, preserves our thoughts and impressions of a given moment, enabling us to relive our history and revisit our past by reading the written lines. As I scroll through my old posts, the changes my reality underwent over the years make me smile. That is the infinite magic of life - we never know what waits around the next bend.

The two rings I wear today are attestation to two defining moments of such changes in my very recent past.
As long as I live I will recall every single detail of the occasions when these two rings were given to me. My memory is saturated by vivid snapshots of these two extraordinary moments in time. Only ten days apart, they account for the two most important events of my life.

The ring worn on my one hand is my engagement ring.
Beautiful silver ring covered by red garnets. This was the ring with which I was asked to marry the love of my life. In front of our families, on a sunny day this April, the proposal was exactly as the incurable romantic within me always imagined - indeed even better. It took place in the beautiful gardens below the Prague castle, saturated by the first spring bloom. High above the historic city, the man that only a year prior stole my heart went down on one knee underneath the pink blossom of a cherry tree, asking for my hand in marriage.

My engagement lasted barely two weeks.
Exactly ten days later, on the first of this May, I said my second yes in the city hall in our home, receiving a beautiful titanium band that now adorns the ring finger of my other hand. I look at it constantly, as it makes me recall our wedding day, which was shared by the two of us only. I loved the simplicity of this precious, deeply intimate moment in time, which eternelized our love.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had visions and dreams of what my wedding day would be like. I think most little girls - and most single women - do. As I grew into a young woman, those dreams started to slowly fade. Not because I did not wanted to get married, but because I started to worry that the man I was searching for did not exist. As years went by and my relationships fell apart one by one, I gave up on my romantic dreams of getting married. I felt like a stupid old fool, still thinking in a young girls terms.

Still, our reality can change in a blink of an eye and as one of the most trying periods of my life was slowly concluding last year, the one that made me doubt happiness and life itself and I wondered secretly whether I was ever going to be smiling again, my fate turned around.
On a warm April day I took a stroll down by the sea with a handsome man - and my life was never going to be the same again.
He came out of nowhere and I knew he was the one. From the very start everything about him was so very different than anything else that I recognized and could relate to. And everything about him was exactly right. He made me believe again.

Thus that which I gave up on a long time ago came to pass. Several decades later than I ever imagined, the event itself though surpassed all my childhood dreams and will remain imprinted in my memory until the end of my days.

Amor Vincit Omnia.
This was written on the back of one of the wedding cards we received.  
Love Conquers All.
And indeed it does. There are no rules and no manuals when it comes to love. There is no right time, right age or right place. Love is versatile and complicated, yet is is also so very unpretentious and easy. It will come to us when we least expected it and it can not be predicted, anticipated, rushed or manipulated. True love is a product of pure mind, endless courage and incurable hope.

It only takes once to get it right. I waited almost half a century to say my yes, yet in hindsight I realize that I would do it all over again. Finding the man of my dreams is worth the wait of a life time.

Dedicated to my husband - my soul-mate and my best friend.

My Week In Pictures.

Sometimes pictures describe my life better than words.
(please click image to enlarge)

Current Contemplations.

I am starting my eighth month in a new home and yet if feels as if eternity has passed since July. Returning from vacation last summer, without much deliberation or discussions, we packed my old Toyota with a few necessities, not too mention Sammy - and that was it, I have moved. Some months after that my old house was rented out and simultaneously put up for sale.

It has all been easy and uncontrived. All the decision we make together come along naturally and are unforced. Even though our every day life is filled with problems, we seem to have the same outlook on life and share the same values and opinions on how to solve them. This fuels our passion for each other.

I truly do feel deeply loved and cherished. Oddly enough, the incredible respect with which I am being treated now keeps bringing to my recollection the terrible way I have been used and abused in my past.
I find it endlessly intriguing the way human psyche works and how we deal with the aftermath of the events in our life. Today I seem to be thinking a great deal about my loss, that devastating loss which I experienced last spring. The wound still runs too deep to reveal it's details in my writing, yet it is something that seems to haunt my mind currently.
This makes me struggle with an internal conflict over whether some people that cause us deep pain should never be forgiven and should only be forgotten. I hope one day I will come to that profound insight which will enable me to understand and finally forgive the actions of someone I trusted, but I am not there yet.

Fortunately I know that as winter moves into spring and into summer, even my recollection will dwindle and I will embrace my present and focus on my future.
One wonderful product of changes, among many, is that they force us to reevaluate our life and ourselves.  I believe our traits are a consequence of both our environment and our heritage. I know today I am a legacy of my past and the way I function is dictated by my experiences. At times I wish I would have been spared certain pain and setbacks, as it would have produced a much less complicated me. My personality is riddled with flaws that I have accumulated during troubled and sedative years in my past. There are aspects of my traits which have stagnated and are undeveloped and it is only now becoming clear to me how much I indeed yet have to learn. As I am exposed to new areas of my reality, I am forced to excel and extend the limit of my capabilities. At times this is slightly unnerving, but also endlessly exhilarating. I am still a student of life.

The lovely BPG shared a link to an intriguing article in one of her posts the other day. It listed the top five regrets people express when lying on their dead beds. A fascinating read.

This hit close to home for me somewhat as one of my relatives passed away recently. Riddled with disease, his ultimate years were a time of endless suffering. Yet the last time I saw him, he still had that spark of joie de vivre in his eyes. If anyone loved life and enjoyed living, it was him indeed. I bet he had no regrets at all.

His passing once again brought the thin line between life and death into my perception. It reinforced my perpetual belief in living each day as it was our last. The time we are given here is so very precious and incredibly fragile. Just the simple act of being alive is a miracle - how foolish it is to waste it away on petty worries and arrogant pursuits.
We arrive here with nothing and leave with nothing as well. All we own in the end are the memories and recollections that leave with us. Eventually the only riches that matters are the treasures we carry within.

In Memory Of J (1939-2012)

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

Vacant Winter.

Although only at the onset of January, very slowly we are approaching mid-winter.
However, looking at my surroundings, nature looks more as if we have stepped into March. This season the snow has been absent, as well as sub zero temperatures, tricking the natural process to speed up.

Roses are in bloom, trees and shrubs are covered by new shoots and the grass by spring flowers, such as daisies. And the crocuses I planted in my new garden this October are already pushing through the ground.

Still, according to the calender, spring is months away and all we can do is hope and pray that indeed this winter will be mild. After two years of arctic conditions we need a break.

My state of mind currently mimics nature.
This year I want winter to last forever. Yet it seems to move forward with light speed, each day and week hurries along, bringing spring and eventually summer, ever so close, yet again underscoring the fact that everything is relative. Least of all time.
Thus feeling currently as if I am running out of time, my every spare moment is almost exclusively spend with the man I love and his family, explaining my lack of posts and visits. Comes summer, I will be forced to do without him for months, a thought which fills me with sadness and my eyes with tears.

Fortunately, as always when something wears heavy around my heart, I find my solace in nature. As yet another full moon shone its platinum shine in my view this past weekend and I relished in its enchanting beauty, I was reminded of the fact that everything comes in cycles and that a full life is a delicate balance between darkness and light.