You live the story you are choosing for yourself. You have your years of fossilized stories, your shadows and your light.
You have that strange unequivocal desire to be here.
Yet, even if you are alive, and you wanted to be alive, you are astonished by the depth of your own being lost.
You can tour the earth. You can span the countries. You can wear the silk of the sea.
You can live side by side with the most passionate sunsets. You can lose your breath to the twilight red.
You can tread the earth angelically, silently, and see with a million eyes.
You can hone your nervous system to feel the heartbeat of the tiniest creature. And always find yourself amidst stories. Stories, it seems, are necessary. You have to assume one. Even not assuming a story is a story.
So, sometimes mindlessly, sometimes mindfully, you pick a story. You make it your story. Make it more of your story. Until the story and you are so enmeshed, there are no chinks in this armor. Your story is that comfort zone. The story is what becomes suffocating and pinching. You numb yourself and keep the story. The agony of the story. The loss of natural beautiful power of sensitivity. The loss of creativity which was always so natural to you. All because of the wrong story. The loss of something so essential and so deep indeed. What to do? I have nothing left to do but to peel the stories away.

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Painfully and slowly, I am peeling the stories away. Slowly and slower, layer after layer, skin after skin. Sometimes I can feel sunlight saturating my labor. My labor is a simple one. I have this unimaginable being which doesn’t end inside me. I feel myself everywhere now. Connected to everything but again, I know that this is also a skill. I wouldn’t say skill if I had a better word for it. Words are another aspect of my labor. I have to develop the words. I have to learn to flex the words. I have to learn to see the words in the feeling I get when I look at the white cotton stitched into the blue of the sky, and I have to put my words on my experience of water, and I have to put the words beneath my fingers as they brush the piano, and I have to put my words inside the mysteries of life, and then, take all of my words out and arrange them up.
But as I have been flexing my words and the stories they were after, I came to realize I was flexing my life. Or more exactly, it struck me that shaping language is the mini-representation of shaping what you are.  There is a certain kind of knowledge in me now.  This knowledge is in you too. The knowledge is that the physicality is easily reshapeable.  The change is initialized in you. But this physical change, if it’s rapid,  may not last. I had to work for a long long on time on how to be with myself, provide basic things for myself, comfort myself.  I am still working on it the moment I wake up.  But this feeling that I have to constantly provide for myself, that I have to constantly do something, feel something, so that I see a positive dynamic, doesn’t feel like freedom. I have minimized other people’s control and now mostly do what I like and when I like it.  However, I recruited myself into working on myself, all of the time, trying to find magical doors into self-improvement. If constant self-improvement is not my thing, what is my thing and what am I?

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As I am peeling the stories off myself, and it’s not just one, I come to an assumption that maybe what I am is easy love. The light kind of love. The kind of love into which you soften when nothing else works – when you are tired, when you are maybe about to die. The kind of life that is surrender and that’s that.
My stories are a ton of metaphors. My stories are heavy, incredulous, incredible, judgemental, shamed, guilt-ridden, stories. My stories are numerous, and every time I peel off yet another story, I thank it, just so, I say thank you. I know that the point of the story is not in the words that story uses or the plot line it creates. The meaning of the story is in the purpose of the story. The purpose of the story is to give itself out and to give. I tell myself a story that I am judgmental when I criticize myself. Criticism is judgment. Of course it gets out of proportion. It’s a diet of criticism not a light snack now and then.  If criticism is present, let’s look past all the nicknames the critic has some up with, and look into a deeper story : I am judgmental.
Is it a true story? Nobody can know for sure, no way. I used to have a maths teacher who loved to make us prove countless theorems so that we knew things were true for f****** sure, and I don’t need to prove the sufficiency of my resentment toward that practice.  But now, after years and many dreams featuring that teacher, I have come to see the metaphor I’ve acquired back then. What that teacher taught me was:

Question the heck out of your assumptions!

Question everything.

Especially your stories about yourself.

About your life.

About your possibilities.

Question! Question! Question!

So after questioning the truth of the story that I am judgmental, I always see that it’s fiction looking real and twice as natural.
The next step is to question the purpose of the story. My being judgmental. What is the positive intention? If I am judgmental, what does being judgmental give me? If I rip myself up, then I get compassion. It’s an extreme way to go about compassion. Perhaps, there are less hurtful, better ways to go about feeling compassion – from others or yourself. In my case, I lived for many years in a judgmental community. So, by judging myself, I came to “agree” with the community. Now, there’s camaraderie. But aren’t there better, less hurtful ways to go about camaraderie? There have to be.
Think, feel, be intuition.
Question the heck out of it all. 

it’s fun to experience abundance.

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And then, there is this Not Enough kind of thing.

Not enough everything. Not having enough everything as the order of the day. Not enough would start with not enough love, of course. That love thing. That thing which would never let go. I believe that love continues even in the least healthy bodies. Love flows. It’s the restriction that we put on life that puts us into a bind. Or a bottle. With all this lack as a bottle neck through which the magnitude of you is trying to flow. It depends on your bottleneck of course, the amount of flow that is available. Most of the time, especially when I work a lot, I experience openness. I have learnt to come to my sessions in a state of openness. Of course, there are degrees of openness that are possible, and it’s never the same, what happens during the sessions. The more open I become, the easier it is to work. I feel that I work in my strength zone and at the same time I don’t. It’s my strength zone in that it feels like that when I am working. It is not my strength zone in the way I feel before sessions. I feel scared of people, even though it’s much less so than it used to be, and a whole lot more pleasant.  Scratch that, it’s fun. The coaching sessions are fun. So, so much fun.

Then, there is Crimea which helps me work – the place is psychologically good (for me), it’s a challenging school as well, Crimea is. I love the heat – and how it’s so unobtrusive, flowing swiftly through the air, the most perfect thing possible. When I go for walks, which I do a lot, things come up. I may not even want to specifically embark on any kind of shadow work; I still find myself working with my emotions all the time, and these emotions sometimes carry intuitive messages (if I care to listen). It took me a whole lot of time and resistance and fear to realize one day, that there is nothing beneath these things. I was listening to my fear, so deeply one day, that suddenly I felt like I peeked through the emotion itself. I had an intention to see what’s the root of that fear and there was nothing there. There is simply nothing beneath fear, it’s not a real thing at all. However, yes it is. Fear is an undeniable part of the current state of life. So, two contrasting things, and I have to explore myself for space to accommodate them, have to expand myself, widen, open, grow, you know the process.

So, the thing that came up today was the two groups I divide people into. Mind you, I haven’t really been aware that I have been dividing people into two groups. Suddenly though, there they were : two groups. The first are the privileged kind, say, with nice parents and backgrounds, and wealth. The second group are we.  Notice, how I put us into the second place. Into the inferior place. That first group makes us, the second group, possible. I feel this separation like a border inside myself, like a painful wall keeping the groups separate. Part of me absolutely believes this story. And that part of me is very very hurt and very very angry. The privileged ones come on stage with their perfect hair, nails and creative energy while we struggle to do the most basic things. This difference in life and perspective, how come it exists. The pain that’s the result of this difference and separateness, is what I am mad at. Am I not enlightened enough to let go of this thing? I don’t mind if I am not. My drive to achieve enlightenment, I think I have used it as a shortcut to get straight to the place of bliss, with no dark detours and now I see, I have to do the actual work and it’s totally ok. I’ll sit with this separateness between the groups. What is it about them, the first group, that I so desperately want which is the repressed want because I find them faulty? Not true. I have been trained to see them as faulty. As separate. As unreachable. It’s just an idea whose time is up.

And so now, what do I feel as I look at the privileged ones? What do I feel as I look at myself? I feel that there is an emotional bridge between us now. I am going to walk it. Will you walk it?

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I’ll try to explain my explanation. It is a personal sore point for me to feel like a beginner when I start to learn something. The beginners mind comes with the price of ego demolition. Ego starts feeling “less than” some mind-blowingly proficient expert out there that becomes your teacher. I sit with that teacher, I try to learn. And maybe I do learn, and not only the technique of that new thing I am trying to understand, but also, I learn that I feel inadequate in the presence of that proficient being.  I feel that what they are saying is too out of my reach. What they are trying to teach is too out of sight. What they are, which is the epitome of excellence , of course, becomes so unimaginably unachievable, I know it will take a whole lot of work to become even mildly good.  The mistake I have been making is thinking I am the only one experiencing that “expert” complex. When I started to learn the piano, I felt like that. Utterly frustrated because I could not nail the things that for my expert teacher were easier than saying long john. I didn’t like that, silently and secretly. I think, mostly unconsciously. Consciously, I started to rationalize the whole thing on the basis of understanding that any type of learning is challenging, especially, in the beginning. I considered myself a good learner, in fact, I was firmly convinced I was a natural scholar which was my university moniker, so why not. I felt super uncomfortable though being a piano beginner, I wanted to go to that “special” level of playing where I would be able to improvise around without thinking of technical details. The flow.

I am saying all that with a deeper purpose. The thing is I was experiencing these strange feelings of inadequacy around certain teachers and in certain learning situations, and I was very, very concerned about the whole thing since I am a teacher myself. I would never want to make a student feel like that. And imagine my surprise that the way I felt did transfer into how my students felt. I didn’t even know it was going on, that’s the mistake I’ve made. I overlooked this aspect almost entirely. It was flashed into my awareness but only as me being at the receiving end, me feeling lousy. Usually, the feeling would come when the expert teacher would not slow down and instead continue with the information flow which is undoubtedly exciting for them. What I never thought I was doing was exactly that. I didn’t think I was hurling information at the unprepared consciousness. I didn’t think I was pulling the ground from under the feet. I didn’t think I was the factor in someone’s emotional misery. I thought I was supportive – and I wasn’t, not always, and maybe even not in the majority of cases. The insight came yesterday.  First, I’d like to give a little bit of background to yesterday.  The constant comings and goings that are the natural phases of this kind of work (or so I keep telling myself) make me feel somewhat frustrated. You cannot be sure about anything. This feeling of can’t be sure about anything is the bane of my life. The agony and inflammation and pinprick. Sometimes, I wonder how much longer it’s going to continue.  Sometimes, I wonder if being here is worth the price. The feeling of “yes, babe, you are on your own” complements the “now the rug is pulled from under your feet once again” type of emotion, and these two are perhaps perfect for each other, but why do I have to be their permanent address, I have no idea. I have tried a lot of things to break free from the grip of these things but intuitively, I know that they run deeper than the surface I can perceive.  They are not only what I feel, but how I make others feel.


Granted, we don’t have the power to make people feel a certain way, we sure can facilitate that certain way in them. Anyhow, where was I.

I was speculating if life is worth the trouble I take to maintain it. The price is incredibly high, the emotional situations are complex, and the pervading low consciousness is a thorn in the flesh.  But, what offsets all of that, is that I simply dig being here. I don’t know why, with all the baggage, and all the different rugs that are pulled from under my feet, I still dig being here. I like teaching and printed books and how creativity feels, and how imagination plays with physical reality. And rose tea, you can actually drink rose. Nice.


The insight I receImage result for ray bradbury quotesived yesterday was during a session which was built on things that proved too difficult for the client. I felt something was off but I didn’t know what that was. It’s my aim to give as much value as possible, to develop proficiency as quickly as possible, but it wasn’t the right approach, not in that situation, in any case. So, what was I supposed to do? I felt the offness of the situation and carried on. Luckily the client was kind enough and honest enough to give me feedback. I love feedback.  Compliments are the best, but I am open and grateful for any other kind of feedback because it helps me self correct. The client said, you know I don’t feel that I am adequately prepared to handle what you serve. It has to be something easier. Let’s go slower. It’s okay to go slower. It struck me amazing, this feedback. It was like suddenly crashing into a talking mirror, I was face to face with not only the reflection of myself, but with the audio version of the reflection. Isn’t that nice?

She was profoundly honest, and beautifully so. It help me think and feel what I have thought and felt before, but deeper, and from a different perspective. She said she didn’t feel she was prepared enough, she then used the metaphor that she didn’t feel that there was ground under her feet. Peculiarly, this emotional experience has saturated so much of my emotional life that it has become like a weird family member whom I thought I’d hidden professionally enough. And there she was, exposing it. She felt that, I felt that. She felt that during the sessions so I knew it had something to do with the sessions. There is no way I can excuse myself nor am I going to.   It hit me that the way I felt about myself wasn’t that private after all. It was reflected everywhere I went. It was going to go to everyone I talked to. The way they felt was my experience, the way I felt was theirs. But especially, in sessions where I teach. I should practice being more mindful because this teaching work is not about me performing on stage. It’s not where I am supposed to go in order to shine and impress so I can meet my need of feeling amazing about my performance. I don’t want people to feel inferior in any way around me because I know the experience all too well. I want to give them the exact opposite. But I didn’t actually know what exactly it was that I was giving them until yesterday. Of course, all sessions are different, and I should trust my “off” intuition more. Ask for feedback whenever that off feeling suddenly floats to the surface. I see now that what I was doing was perhaps using sessions to meet some of the needs that I have and don’t know how to meet adequately. One of them is to be proficient, and brilliant.  So, to do that, I use others as fodder to feel better. Is it so? I have no idea. I have no way of checking that. It’s a conjecture. However, I am glad I have become more conscious of what is going on. I will slow down in my teaching. Casting my mind back to my own learning process when I was a beginner, and oddly enough, I still think I am a beginner, actually I am quite happy to have a whole universe of things opening to me wilder and wider the more I am willing to develop my skills. Anyway, casting my mind back, I don’t recall using tiny bits of information, what worked for me, was exactly what I am trying to do in my sessions, the expansiveness and naturalness of language. I have always felt drawn to the language, not to the restricted graded adapted type of it but natural things, even though they were quite incomprehensible. As long as I could catch the general gist, I was more than happy with the whole thing. However, clients find that frustrating. They don’t want that wildness, perhaps even afraid of it, and who says wildness is better than everything else? Whatever rocks your boat. I have chiseled away my judgment of people. Mostly, I mean.

Anyway, I was saying. She said that she didn’t feel the ground under her feet and she felt inadequate. The exact picture of my emotional life on many, many days of the year. Granted, I have some marvelous joys, and sometimes I am so high I feel that I have checked out of 3D a long long long something ago, the comment hurt. The comment sank into my body like a heavy truth, and a stab in the chest, which is how I experience emotional upset. Always a stab. The intensity of the stab varies, and I am able to observe the stab instead of identifying with it, still, the stab is painful.  So, we were having our sessions, and we started sharing emotional space. It’s natural, inevitable. Highlights the value of emotional self-work. It’s never just one who feels.

Who feels that.

I was thus spurred on to dive into myself. To dive into the heaviness. I remembered the lightness on the other side. Do I do it in order to get to the other side? Do I want to get rid of the heaviness? I’d say no. If it wants to be felt all day long, I’ll let it be felt all day long.

And what do I do about not having the ground under my feet? What do I do with the dawning realization that I am on my own here? That I am a beginner in many things? What do I do with knowledge, that things are the way they are right now – and things are not yet healed? Things are still, some of them, unhealthy. And that I have to be careful all the time, compassionate all the time, and good all the time towards myself. I cannot be that all the time, not right now. Or is it the story I tell myself, is there anything but the story on the one hand and absolute nothingness on the other? And is it possible that I can hold both of them and that’s the way to live a wise life? I don’t know.

I have been feeling an interesting thing since I’ve come here. To an outsider, it looks like what I did was change a physical location. However, it’s much more that than that. I have changed a spiritual location. I have changed something very essential.  I have forgotten and remembered something. If I physically die because I simply cannot function here, it’s not the end of the world – I feel okay with that, I feel that the thing here is to soften towards death. It’s not only with death. I think that softening towards things is a skill all in itself. I have practiced it today when I decided to go to the sea. It was turbulent and cold, I didn’t want to feel the water. I was sitting there, thinking what to do, I was wearing my swimming gear, so I decided to relax my resistance to the sea by simply softening against it. Then I thought “against” was the wrong metaphor. Towards it. As a lover would soften towards a lover.  Maybe the lover is turbulent, imperfect. But I won’t be a cheap lover. I will soften towards it anyway.

This softening is an intuitive skill I have begun to use in my sessions long ago. The idea is that you have to deal with a lot of different energies, not all of them are silk, some of them are quite edgy, some even rough, some rub you the wrong way, some destabilize you. Resisting these energies will only make things worse.  Starting a conflict with these energies is a very energy-requiring thing which is again not the most effective strategy, and conflict in general feels quite inflammatory to me. Being here feels quite inflammatory to me. But anyway, I was saying. You have the choice here. You can choose softness. Softening towards these energies makes them brush past or through you, and you are absolutely intact as a result, there is nothing to fight for, prove or be hurt by.

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Softness is the currency in shortage.

I don’t know how to explain why this is and if any explanation actually cuts it.

Due to that, romance here feels like a highly improbable thing to me. Some kind of theatre. I don’t even think that it’s possible without buying into a certain fantasy of your own making. But then, what’s wrong with fantasy. And who says you cannot evolve that romance into something that would be really that which you desire. Consider, that maybe, what you desire desires you back.

There is an answer to your desire, somewhere, out there. Or maybe right here, if you dare to feel.


Much love,


With this honesty, can hardly be.  

Something pure and impossible. Or purely?

The pain erupts yet this laughter.

Trying to research myself all day.

Dig the reason for this one.

Cast mind back a blank slate.

Your lovingness is where most wanted.

The molten body with no mind.

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Honesty. Friendship. Heat. Inevitable hope. Farewell.

Each night with its silk. Held.

Each morning drowned in traffic. Same.

Afternoon. Time lost. Pleasure lapped.

Evening. Slept away. Complicated contrasting feelings.

Wished headache would take me away.

Drenched to the bone. Stopped minding.

Opportunity prefers the most open mind.

I want to be life’s taste in women.

Only been woman at random moments.

My neck was popular in dreams.

My hobby’s to kiss various realities.


Carl Jung defined shadow as the suppressed aspects of ourselves that we came to regard as bad in the process of socialization and thus inappropriate for expression.  Those aspects may be judged as negative, as well as positive.

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If a girl is assertive but her environment regards that assertiveness as bossiness and inappropriate for a little girl, she will suppress this aspect of herself (and not be conscious of it ) so that she can continue to be accepted by the society.  Shadow work has a negative connotation linguistically but really, shadow means the aspects of ourselves that we aren’t conscious of.  

And so, the essence of this work is a deep self-discovery, feeling those aspects, and becoming conscious of them. Shadow work is consciousness work. Shadow work can be viewed as simply becoming aware what we aren’t yet aware of.  This is both tricky and simple, challenging and natural to do. This is the type of work where you can’t get it wrong really, because the integration of the shadow, the inclusion of shadow into the wholeness of consciousness is an intuitive process. This process has a tremendous creative benefit – the energy release. The things we aren’t conscious of take energy to maintain, I feel that the things that hurt are the things we aren’t conscious of. This hurt is like a call to consciousness. A call for us to look closer, to become aware of something.  

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I am becoming continuously fascinated with shadow work. I love the way it feels to be discovering how deep consciousness is – of an individual as well as collective consciousness. Shadow work means you come into contact with more and more of yourself, with more and more of the wholeness, with more and more of consciousness. I could even compare this process with being filled with consciousness. Being filled with light. This light feels more and more real, it’s as if there could never be any other way to go but the light. I can feel how my environment is being transformed but ever so slowly.  I can feel myself being transformed, it’s as though I am changing everything I could possibly change about myself, I am peeling everything off, I am clearing everything up, I am expanding and I am saying yes and yes to change. Being okay and flowing with change was an aspect of me living in the shadow. I suppressed change, I suppressed the naturalness of it, I suppressed the joy of it, I suppressed the aspect of me that loves change, that goes for change, that says yes to change. I have suppressed the learner in me who thrives on change. All learning is continuous change. The problem was I equaled change to loss of love (and I wasn’t aware of it), so change felt painful. Especially if it was someone close and loved who would decide to change me and experience someone else. Even now as I am writing this, I want to hide that this has ever happened. I don’t want to believe that what this person did meant so much to me and touched me to that kind of extent. Touched me straight where I am nothing but soft trust. I sometimes still feel this knot of hurt unravel into a river of pain flowing from my neck and through my heart, always the heart, and then straight into my guts. So, I have decided to explore that aspect of me which feels so hurt indeed.  I feel hurt that this person walked away so easily, that he was careless in his words after being the softest, but more than that, I am hurt by the feeling his finding another someone triggered in me. And that I was precisely another someone after another someone after another someone, and thus, rather cheap. My memory is riddled with those bullets. But all of that is surface. It wasn’t one single thing he did that made me go into that place of being steeped in pain. What he did was change, and I’ve suppressed change in me, change was not okay in my original environment, by which I mean early years. Change was what led to emotional disconnect. So I did choose rigidity instead of evolution/learning. Although the powerful learner in me would not give up that easily – I learned, but learned just enough to create a tolerable living environment. However, more learning, better learning will allow you to actually create the optimal environment for your ever-growing, ever expressive, potential. And that’s what I truly desire. None of that half-effort, quarter-a*** life. Even if it takes me an eternity to be okay with change.

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When I try to talk about the conflict I am having, people find it strange or incomprehensible, and so I mostly keep this conflict to myself. When you have a conflict, it helps to be able to express it and receive assistance. Assistance is a natural underlying principle of nature. Assistance can be called interdependence. I feel that assistance is basically another word for love.  However, the problem with assistance is that we are all wired differently as to the amount of assistance we allow ourselves to have. By “have” I mean the amount of assistance we are willing to give and are willing to receive. It depends on our openness, and openness depends on the self-work that the person has done. Openness depends on a myriad of factors, not least of which is how your early environment conditioned you to view openness to receiving assistance (maybe assistance was seen as a weakness) which was the case with me. I feel as though every kind of possible emotional vice was specifically invited into my childhood, and so now, I can feel the general imprint of it all but cannot intellectually pin down the causes of specific difficulties.  There are blockages. I feel that although I have cleaned my system quite a lot, there are still very dense shadows lurking inside, and even the word “lurking” shows that I am negatively inclined towards them instead of viewing them from a non-judgmental perspective which is my aspiration. And so, due to that part of me that sees accepting assistance as a terrible thing only weak people do (I would rather never be seen as weak) I am in my current situation. My current situation is something I experience for the third time already. Each time I experience it, I get seriously annoyed at myself because I seem unable to neither heal the situation nor accept assistance, nor even be able to seek assistance.  What I do is sink down into myself instead of reaching out. What I tend to do is shut my room and think instead of reaching out. I am coming to terms though, with the idea that assistance is okay. Assistance is allowing. Allowing is the basic principle of nature, the elemental component of flow. Yet, to believe that emotionally, I have to first feel it through. Feel this situation through, and not only that, but feel the opposite of this situation, the state of being assisted that is natural but something I cannot completely accept as part of my reality yet. Because, you know, connection which is a prerequisite for assistance, is so unusual. After all of my experiences, I have come to feel that connection, becoming connected – although it’s possible, requires a lot of work. A lot of feeling. A lot of uncomfortable things which wrap so many ideas, and sometimes, when I have physical pain, and cannot really remain physically busy (distracted), I feel that this is the opportunity for the mental exploration of these ideas. This is when I get to embark on deep mental journeys – during my painful periods which tend to coincide with some kind of emotional discomfort prior to them, which is sort of highlighted by the physical pain.  The web of physical and emotional pain stops me right in my tracks, it acts as a sign for me to slow down and be. Today I turned on some binaural music and lay down to meditate. I sank into meditation quite easily but it was not the usual kind because I was in that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, in a pure state, state of nothingness and safety, no thinking, and even the feelings were gone.  There was only one thought that I thought before thinking dissolved:
I could stay here forever
It was a pleasant place to be in, although it was not defined by any particular kind of pleasant experience or even just an experience. It was a place of cleanliness. It was a place where there was nothing to have. It was a simple place, and at the same time, I felt my selfness there even though there was no self to speak of – I was undefined. I could feel the edges of my self floating around me, and the only thing that held them in my awareness was my focus on them. I could choose to be free. I was a growing space.  The sensation of nothing and cleanliness would sometimes shift somewhat, and I would feel as though I were falling, but not exactly down.  Falling can be a beautiful sensation. I felt that I was falling into some kind of an uplifting place or thing or feeling. There was something so “up” about my fall. I also felt the specks of multifaceted light becoming denser around me, becoming more expressive and more sophisticated in their properties. I felt somehow comforted by that light. I felt that perhaps I’d lost something or maybe I was just free of it. I didn’t know or remember what I’d lost or was free of, though. But I knew I neither regretted it nor wanted it back.
During that meditation, I was free of the conflict that I have been experiencing for so long. It’s the clash between who I am and my environment. I don’t feel either at home or safe or capable of expression here. I feel inflamed here. Sometimes, the conflict would flare up, sometimes subside, but right now, I seem to be experiencing both flaring up and subsiding at the same time. I find myself with no assistance again, or I find myself unable to feel it. I can feel compassion. But sometimes compassion is just the foundation on which you have to build your creative solution. You have to do something. You have to reach out and you have to listen and you have to have the backbone not only to believe in your abilities, but also to trust that even if you fall, and fall severely, you will land on a soft place. Maybe that soft place is inside yourself, maybe there’s someone who is your soft place, you have to trust that you are going to land exactly there.
This Russian environment which I am in conflict with, seems to be emotionally damaging to me but now that I am in Crimea, I have somewhat reduced the amount of damage. I feel, I intuit, that I have overstayed here…that I should now intuit my way into my expression which is not here.
I have an interesting although completely strange relationship with the Russian language which I feel I am beginning to slip out of, like skin, I am sloughing it off, gradually and slowly. I feel more like myself when I am expressing myself in English but here I am very restricted in expression because this environment is basically deprived of the element (the English language) I need almost as much as a human being would need oxygen. At the same time, I feel that this conflict has taught me a tremendous lesson and that is communication. This conflict ties into communication, relationships, and of course, it reaches into the realms of healing, deep understanding, deepest love. Deepest love.
I feel that the price I have paid for the deepest love…is worth it.