You’re Already There

Today was a good reminder that I don’t have to get anywhere – because I’m already there. I used to live in a very conditional state of mind where I would have to be thinner in order to go out in high school, wiser in order to start exposing my truth and my beliefs, older in order to feel better in my own skin or even calmer in order to call my attempts at trance – meditation. Who said that?

Isn’t it time to expose my truth when I feel that aching feeling in my chest and I know the words are going to rip me open if I don’t speak or write or sing them out immediately? Isn’t meditation supposed to be about accepting the state I’m in, no matter what that might be?

Yesterday me and Svarun went for a lovely autumn walk with my best friend and her baby boy. After a while of walking, Svarun starts asking when we are going get “there”. My friend answers: “Don’t worry, we’re already there.”

He looks at me, puzzled, and I confirm. Sure, we’re already there.

We’re right in this moment where we need to have this exact experience we’re having. And yes, we might feel tense, we might be overflowed with chores and calls, and we might need a lot of energy to squeeze that smile out instead of a hiss, but we’re here for a reason. The reason is to remember what keeps us going at all times and always act with respect upon it.

In that split second that you have, choose respect. Embrace your tension, your sadness, your anger, your fear, your disappointment, your impatience … but choose respect.

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I am Awake

I’m awake on the eve of 19th of October, just as I was awake exactly four years ago. Back then, I had just been awakened by labor contractions, fortelling my son was about to come earthside. I went to bed really late because I went on a late night walk to watch the starts, selected the music that would sway our forcoming birth, took a long hot bath and a cup of cocoa afterwards. I went to bed peaceful. After about half an hour of so-called sleep, I woke up in the midst of what I would only later realize was a full blown contraction. In a haze I recalled waking up with contractions many times that night, so I decided it was no use to pursue lying in bed. I sat on the ball and started circling with my hips, being as present as I could, every time I would sense the familiar rushes at the bottom of my henna-tattoo-ed belly.

I could swear I felt the exact same contraction in my womb just as I thought about those rushes four years ago. Sure, it’s the first day of my period, but now again I have found myself to be birthing something into this world yet again; I’m baking a cake for my son’s kindergarten birthday celebration. It’s the second one I’m making because the first one turned out watery enough to be called – a pudding.

Now, I really don’t like late nights. They get me every time, honestly. It was late when I started, but when I realized the pudding thingy was not going to cut it, I almost felt the need to cry. Wait, I wholly truly did. And the need to feel sorry for myself kept creeping in: »Oh, man. It’s the first day of my period, the time when I should be resting, and I’m not even going to get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow I’m going to be out and about the whole day and why do I always do this to myself on my period, it’s always the same …«

But then I realized what I was doing. I stood up. I thought about my son. I thought about how much I wanted him to have a surprise cake for his birthday. So I looked up, and prayed. I prayed to the goddess to give me the strenght to pull this off. And I sat down in my car, started it and drove to my parent’s house a few miles away to pick up the eggs that I need to make the cake (try one was a vegan experiment that failed).

I came back, bursting with energy and commitment. And I noticed it. And I thanked it. And I meant it. And I trusted her when she said I had made the right decision. And I trust her when she says that this is only the start of the best day ever.

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Discipline

I have long decided to invite more discipline into my life. Correction: I have long decided to invite more discipline into my working life. Being a mother, that means those five to six hours in the morning and early afternoon while Svarun is in kindergarten. Being a mompreneur (a mother who is an entrepreneur), that has meant: all day every day.

It’s utopian to think that I’m going to be able to do all that I want/ should/ must/ desire in a mere few hours, especially because … well, I’m a woman. I don’t do things linear; I do a little bit of this here, and a little bit of that there, and then return to this, and then continue that bit over there. Just as I’m typing this, the granola is in the oven and washed clothes can’t wait to hang out in the balcony in this hot, orange, autumn sun. But being a woman, I also posses a lot of creativity that just wants to see the light of the day. However, being a woman alone does not make me highly chaotic; what makes me such is thinking that discipline would bore me to tears.

I’m willing to shift this now.

I’m willing to see things differently.

If we take a look at the word discipline, it shares the root with the word disciple. I’m not going to go into some religious lagacy, but just consider the meaning of the word disciple or bhakta, which is how the same person is called in Hare Krishna tradition. A disciple is someone who has surrendered his will to the coach.

For me, the coach is myself … or rather the part of myself I have yet not named, but it’s a she. She is the divine feminine that is waking up inside of me. She is my primal nature; she is Nature itself. Her gift is to find wisdom within her cycles; her gift is to descend and ascend, and give to the world all the love and beauty and softness she has gathered along the way. And what she needs in order to do all of that is … inspiration.

My idea of discipline? Surrendering to the inner guidance and feed it well with a lot of inspiration.

Again, my idea of discipline? Every day I take time for things that inspire me; I take time form y yoga and meditation, I take time form my barefoot walk, I take time to spend in Nature, and as of today … I take time for my kitchen playtime. That means I take time for the new app I’ve created, called Igralnica Kuhalnica in Slovene (but coming in English as well) and for sheer plain experimenting in the kitchen. When I’m throwing things together I fill like a kid again, wide eyed, barely managing to wait what’s going to … become.

That way, I’m becoming anew every second of every day. And that, my friends, is a gift.

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Taking Responsibility

The past week has been a roller-coaster.

Do you know the feeling when you know you’re doing the right thing, but everything you keep bumping into are obstacles upon obstacles upon obstacles? I sure do. I sure know how to feel sorry for myself. My mantra used to be: »I knew something was gonna go wrong.« I really liked that mantra. For a long time, it served me, because it saved me from responsibility. I hated responsibility and I never learned how to take responsibility … for my life. What does that even mean?

I liked my mantra, although the statement wasn’t actually true. I didn’t literally know what was going to happen, but I did always happily consider everything that could go wrong before everything that could go right. I was in the state of mind that Sara, my dear teacher, calls »God’s mercy«: when you think about the obstacle and you realize you really don’t want it to happen, but you feel like there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. You feel like somebody else is navigating your boat, while you sit silently under the deck; you’re small, yet you’re safe. And if the going gets rough, it’s not your fault.

I fell into that state a few times this week. I just stopped something and launched something new. I oh-so-know that what I started is the right thing. I can feel it in my body; I feel twinkles of excitement whenever I think about this project, and rushes of excitement when new ideas unfold and upgrade and reveal. It’s so right that it scares me.

So I go on … showing up late, not handling things, manifesting Svarun’s one-night-stand diseases, spilling chamomile tea all over the car, forgetting my laptop, forgetting the essentials, buying the wrong camera that the program doesn’t accept. There were approximately a million things why I could give up. But strangely my insistence seems to override my resistance. There have been a million instances when I could simply say: »The Universe is testing my persistence.« But I know that’s not the case. And another thing I know … I am responsible for my life. I take full responsibility for my life by always being in tune with what I feel. And I know that the obstacles I created are just my inability to accept … abundance. Abundance does not have one face alone. All that happened and nearly made me cry but in the end made me crack up open, is colorful and varied and very abundant. Oh, yeah.

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The Need for Rituals

I’m not a creature of habit, and I have never really made friends with routine. If anything, I found it scary because I usually felt so comfortable with change. But one thing is change, and the other is chaos and I was definitely leaning more in the direction of the second.

My best friend once told me: “Your middle name should have been Chaos, you know!” I don’t actually have a middle name, nor do I think Chaos would sit exceptionally well beside Tamara. However, if I take into consideration the meanings of both names (Chaos and Tamara, which in Hebrew means “date”, the fruit of the date palm), I come to think that I might just be here to find the sweet spot within my thunder, the calm within the storm.

*How do I do that? Daily rituals.

I’m not necessarily only talking about the morning routine, but a night one, and maybe a midday one, and before and after meals. What I’m talking about is Sādhanā. The word comes from Sanskrit, where it means “spiritual exertion towards an intended goal”. I have witnessed Hindus make poojas several times per day, each day, but I never really thought about the whys, until recently. It’s to keep the connection with God/ the Universe/ all that is/ Earth/ yourself/ life at arms’ length. It’s just that. No matter what your religion or no religion is, everyone’s “intended goal” is to be happy, right? In other words – peaceful.

There are certainly different paths to happy. In fact, I will go thus far as to claim that there are as many ways as there are people. It’s true. Blessed be our uniqueness, blessed be our equality.

I said Sādhanā was a spiritual practice. What that means is it’s a life practice, because all of life is spiritual, even taking out the trash, washing the dishes, freaking out, crying out loud, having sex. This only goes to prove that your rituals might include a warm cup of tea drank before going to bed, a blog that you read daily right before you start working, the walk that you take over to the grocer’, a stare at a night’s sky, a massage of your breasts at dawn, listening to that song, pulling those oracle cards, looking yourself in the mirror and saying out loud how much you miss yourself, going to pick up wood for fireplace, a green smoothie, a combing of your hair, a dance to the dark goddess. It may be anything and everything. The only thing that’s important is that you recognize it, and cherish it for it’s here to aid you.

It’s not like we lose the connection if we don’t pray/ meditate/ do breathing exercises regularly. The connection is always here because we are a part of all that is and that cannot be undone. However, if we don’t keep our rituals regular, we tend to forget about the connection more easily because there’s less (no) things reminding us of the sacredness of life.

I think that is what brings us peace in the first place: seeing, and feeling, and smelling, and touching, and tasting the sacredness of life and of ourselves.

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What a Day

I. Can’t. Write.

 

My feelings are feeling me.

How do I know? I’m out of control.

My thoughts are thinking me.

How do I know? I want control.

 

I knew it couldn’t have been long

until I burst into the song

of who’s right and who’s wrong.

 

Do I let myself cherish the good

or do I keep coming up with new things that could trigger a flood?

The flood of feelings that I always felt

and always knew I would.

 

Do I still play according to “no pain, no game”?

Well, that’s a shame.

Haven’t I learned anything this year?

But wait, there’s a feeling here …

If I put my hands over my womb,

I hear it whispered softly

… that my peace resides there where my pain hides.

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I am Enough

I’m sitting on Svarun’s bathroom step stool (you know the little steps they make for children to reach bathroom sink) while the computer is resting on our bamboo laundry hamper, dancing throughout my typing. I just washed my hair, something I was looking forward throughout the day, and I love how the water is freely dripping on my back and ass. I’m sitting here because I have nowhere else to go; namely, the floor in the rest of the flat is still wet from cleaning. I cleaned the entire flat because if there’s something I know about myself it’s that I like to return to a fresh and tidy home. So I decided to make myself happy. I’m the first one to take care of that. It’s just me after all.

During the day while I was preparing vegan treats to sell at a weekend festival here in Slovenia, I felt really good … but confused. I had this conversation in the morning with my friend and we were talking about running a business and making in happen and while it left me inspired for a while, it all melted down into these existential questions like “who am I” and “what is real” and “do I have to pick one thing to be, or can I immerse into everything that my heart desires”. I liked the existential nature of the questions I was asking myself because I think that once in a blue moon (or rather every moon) it’s good to redefine ourselves. Like, from head to toe. That’s one of the qualities of the darkness; of digging deep into oneself.

Who am I, then?

My friend Attila from Arambol’s jungle in India sums it up perfectly, when he says: “When we switch off the mobile and all the information and the news, suddenly it’s awakening by itself. It’s what we are all dreaming of, to be nobody again – it means ourselves, not this or that.” In the darkness, the etiquettes that we’ve attached to ourselves dissolve and what is left is what we really are.

What I learned today, is that I’m enough. I’m enough to do all the work that I need to do. I’m enough to go to a festival alone with my son. I’m enough to keep my son company. I’m enough to set up a tent, think of all we’re going to eat in the following days. I’m enough to do it all by myself.

Mind you, I didn’t know this before. I was always taught that a woman, let alone a mother, needs a man to help her out, so I gladly accepted the help that was lying around. I had been counting on it, so it always came. But with time I’ve learned that by accepting people’s help to do just about everything, I was disempowering myself. When I would break up with my boyfriend for the hundredth time, I’d call a friend because I couldn’t handle my emotions; when I would need to pay a bill, I’d call my father to do it for me because I couldn’t do it via the internet but didn’t feel like going to the post office to do it physically. The list goes on. And while I’m not saying it’s bad to ask for help or accept it when offered, I am saying: don’t count on it. The only person I can count on is myself. And this I’m not saying with my a mouth full of bitter ash of disappointment, but with pride and a full heart that knows – I am enough.

It’s always just me … which I mean in the most empowering way possible.

Go girl!

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