Sjela sam u vlak. Spava mi se poprilično, ali sam popila kavu, ima da me žvajzne. Da, vaš najdraži yogi pije kavu. A nisam godinama, zbilja nisam. Znalo
bi mi biti jako loše od
kave, tresle bi mi se ruke, srce bi mi lupalo satima. No, nijedna droga nije
otprve slatka, treba se naviknuti. I tako malo po malo, indijski chai, pa tu i
tamo capuccino od vanilije i eto ti. Pijem oko jedne kave tjedno, nekad više, nekad manje. Ovisi o količini sati provedenih u vlaku. Kad
putujem pijem kavu, kad sam u ashramu ne.

Blaženi vlak.
Mogu tipkati do mile volje. Dok sam živjela
u Zadru svaki vikend sam nekud bauljala, i putovala isključivo
busevima. Tu bih se nježno
uljuljkala u san, ili slušala
glazbu, audio knjige – vrlo pasivno. Vozeći se vlakom, pišem – ipak nešto radim, potpuno sam neumorna!

Dakle, spava mi se. Spava mi se, jer sam noćarila s cimericama. Do 11, 12
navečer budna svaki dan s
buđenjem u 6, to ne ide
skupa nikako. Plus svaki dan intenzivno aktivan.

Želim
iskoristiti priliku dok me još drži efekt kave i ispričati priču o tri muškarca
u svom životu. Treba uzeti
u obzir da pored svih avantura i priča
koje imam u rukavu, ono što
je najbitnije je ipak samo i jedino ono što
je u srcu. Srce me vodi i na ovaj put. Nosim majicu na kojoj piše HEAD vs. HEART. U mom slučaju srce ipak dobiva. Uvijek.
Kako je Željko, astrolog
(genijalni jyotishi iz Novog Sada) rekao za mene: “Kad se taj emotivni
momentat sredi, sa svim ostalim se lakše
nosiš.” Istina!

Kod mene sve počinje
kada srce zatitra; tada se stijene odvaljuju. Ne samo u partnerskom smislu. Kad
moje srce želi, sve
avanture se počnu
ostvarivati, jer srce trči,
a tijelo nema izbora nego da kaska za njim.

Priča 1

Fred: Živjela
sam u to vrijeme u Zadru. Svaki tjedan sam putovala: u Split kod prijatelja, na
Brač kod majke i sestre, u
Zagreb kod tate i sestara, prijateljica, u Tuzlu se zabavljati. Eva me zamolila
da prevedem najavu za bend čiji
koncert je organizirala. Prijevod je bio s francuskog, jer je izvođač
bio belgijanac. Kako sam prevodila taj komadićak teksta, svidjelo mi se što je pisalo, pa sam odlučila poslušati
kako zvuči –
i to mi se svidjelo. Prilika za poslušati
neki novi, pritom zanimljivi bend se ne propušta.
Odmah sam zabilježila datum
u kalendaru da odjašem do
Zagreba. U to vrijeme sam imala iksicu i putovala uz studentski popust, pritom sam
imala i nos za pronaći
nigdje najavljene buseve s nekim nemoguće
dobrim popustima.

Koji mjesec kasnije, došla
sam u Zagreb veseleći se
koncertu, pogotovo što u
Zadru od muzike ni m. Ne znam što je s tamošnjom vladom i studentima, i tko
snosi odgovornost ili nedostatak inicijative, probojnosti ili čega treba da se pokrenu nekakvi
koncerti. Bendova hvala bogu ima koliko hoćeš. Bend koji mi se svidio je
zapravo bio one-man band: harmonika, ukulele i sl. i joše je pjevao+recitirao
na francuskom. Ne mogu reći
da nisam – jesam, odmah sam se zaljubila. U muziku, a i u čovjeka iza muzike. Zaljubila sam
se onako kako samo ja znam, u tih prvih par trenutaka poznanstva obuzelo me
potpuno oduševljenjenje.
Svaki drugi je čovjek mog života – prvih pet minuta. Ako
bolje promotrim, od mog prvog poljupca nadalje, svaki i svaka je bio i bila TA:
osoba mog života. Slabije
ili jače
intenzivno. Entuzijazam koji osjećam
i pokazujem, tih prvih par trenutaka totalne opsjednosti s nečim novim, je neviđen. Ovo nije ljubavna priča, da vas odmah upozorim. Ovo je
priča o jednom od tri muškarca koji su imali i imaju
svojevrsni emocionalni utjecaj u mom životu.

Totalno neobičan,
drag, prisutan i prisan, Fred je bio jedan od onih koji ti uđu u život i postanu instant prijatelj. Netko koga želiš vidjeti opet i opet
i opet. Reklo bi se da nema puno takvih koji meni stvarno pašu, jer to je neka posebna vrsta
osobe. Kako je Sara rekla: tebi, Gordana, treba netko dovoljno lud da te može ishendlat, i dovoljno
prizemljen da to bude realno. Ili nešto
slično, tako sam ja barem
shvatila, morat će me
ispraviti ako griješim.

Koncert Freda i njegovih prijatelja je završio rano, no bilo je vrijeme za
spavanje, sutra su rano kretali
dalje na turneju. Kako me srce vuklo da se opet vidimo, pao je dogovor da dođem
ujutro na kavu, kako bi se bar još
jednom vidjeli. Tu priča
1 ide na pauzu, i umeće se priča 2.

 

Priča 2

Damir: Damir je bivši
dečko od moje sestre koji
je nesretnom igrom slučaja,
te tuđe i svoje gluposti
završio u zatvoru. U tom
trenutku je bio u Zagrebu na premještaju.
To jutro kad sam trebala piti kavu s belgijancem, bio je ujedno i jedini dan
kad sam Damiru mogla doći u
posjetu. Smislila sam kako ću
to napraviti odmah ujutro rano, pa na kavu. No zatvori ne dijele pojam o
vremenu kao ostatak svijeta. Pitaš
se zašto nisam otišla na kavu s Fredom, i otišla neki drugi jedini mogući dan u Remetinec ili preskočila tu akciju? Odgovor je: srce.
Ako ima netko tko mi nije u krvnom srodstvu, a koga više smatram dijelom obitelji od bilo koga drugog koga
poznajem, to je Damir. Zašto
volim Damira? Zato što ga
voli Katina. A kad Katina voli nekog, volim ga i ja. Domino efekt povezanosti.
Srce je najvažnije. Volim
ga i zato jer je pametan, zanimljiv, jer brine i jer i on voli mene i niz
drugih lijepih stvari.

Čekala sam
nekih sedam puta u redu prije nego što smo se vidjeli. Prvo sam se
zapisala na vrata ispred zgrade i čekala
red da me prozovu, kad sam ušla
unutra čekala sam prvo u
redu da stavim sve stvari u ormarić
(plus mobitel s kojeg sam se mogla možda
javiti Fredu da kasnim/ne dolazim), zatim da predam čistu robu za zatvorenika, pa još
jedan red da pokažem
osobnu, pa red za pregled moje osobe, pa još
možda dva reda dok
nisam došla u sobu za
posjete. Da, došla sam u
sobu za posjete. Ako je tko imalo upoznat sa zatvorskim protokolom, trebalo bi
znati da u  posjet u zatvor (pogotovo
tranzitni) mogu samo osobe iz uže
obitelji (najuže = dijete,
roditelj, supružnik). Teta
na šalteru je prije mene
svakoga glasno pitala: IME? ROD? Mene
nije pitala ništa. Dala mi
je papir s kojim mi je odobreno da idem dalje u proceduru posjete.

Dok sam čekala
posljednji red pred posjetu, već sam
se pomalo sprijateljila sa ženama,
mamama i kćerkama koje
posjećuju svoje muškarce redovito. Pričale su kako je bolje kad je on u zatvoru, manji su troškovi, u zatvoru bar ima skuhano
i slično.
Rekle su mi također da i uz
tisuću eura i dobrog
odvjetnika jedva možeš srediti posjet nekoga tko nije
najuža obitelj. Sjedila sam
dugo, bez mobitela, gledajući
tu i tamo na sat, znajući
da je kava s Fredom već odavno
došla i prošla i pitala se hoću li ga ikada više vidjeti, znajući u srcu da zasigurno na pravom
mjestu.

Nakon otključanih
posljednjih metalnih vratiju, ušla
sam u old-school sobu za posjete, s drvenim okvirima bez prozora, ako se dobro
sjećam. Usko sjedalo.
Gurnula sam instinktivno glavu kroz malo okno, poljubila Damira u obraz, i vraćajući se nazad da sjednem lupila glavom o staro drvo.
Držala sam ga čvrsto za obje ruke, i mahnito
ispitivala i pričala, osjećajući se snažno,
stabilno, ohrabrujuće. Sat
vremena je proletilo kao sekunda. Ispričao
mi je razne detalje života
u zatvoru, tipa kako je neki cimer napravio tuš
u kupaoni od boca i gume, kako se kava i cigare i relativno pristojna
hrana mogu uzeti u zatvorskoj prodavaonici samo ako imaš budžet
i slične priče sjebanog sistema koji crpi
gdjegod stigne.

Vrijeme za odlazak je došlo
kao ljetni pljusak kad te iznenada smoči
do kože. Za čas sam bila ispred zgrade. Tek
kada sam izašla, nešto se u meni slomilo. Obuzela me
tuga, nemoć, treskavica.
Kao da sam svu snagu koju sam ikada imala sakupila i upotrijebila u tih sat
vremena. Iste sekunde kada je ta snaga izgubila svrhu, slomila sam se. Bio je
sunčan dan, sjećam se. Duboko sam udahnula i
krenula dalje. U ostatak vremena koliko je bio u zatvoru, mislim da mu je to
bila jedina posjeta. Sretna sam da sam mogla barem malčice pridonijeti da taj dio njegovog putovanja kroz život prestane biti bolno, makar
na par trenutaka.

 

Malo još priče 2, priča
3 i kako se sve povezalo.

 

Dva dana kasnije Fred je svirao u Ljubljani. Kada sam to saznala,
nisam ni trepnula, već sam
bila u vlaku. Bez plana, broja telefona. Sve je to tada bilo tako sporedno.
Kako sam došla do kluba
gdje su svirali, rekli su mi gdje bendovi večeraju,
pa sam lagano odšetala do
tamo i vidjevši ih rekla:
Haaaaaaj!  

Nisu skrivali iznenađenje.
Tko još dolazi na koncert
malo poznatih bendova u drugu državu?
Svirka je bila odlična, a Alek et les Japonaises su imali super
performance i to je zapravo još jedan
aspekt cijele priče koji
nije nikako zanemariv. Za muziku idem i na mjesec. Nije mi strano pratiti bend
na par uzastopnih koncerata, pogotovo ako je sve tu negdje u radijusu od manje
od  sto kilometara. Groupie se to zove,
samo (u 97% slučajeva) bez seksa s članovima
benda. Ima samo jedna stvar koja me ispunjava više
od jako dobrog koncerta, koji ne mora ni tehnički
biti savršen, samo da je
mjuza kul i da me veseli izvođač, a to je meditacija s Guruom.

Negdje oko 3 ujutro, nakon koncerata, plesa i druženja,
prošetala sam s Fredom po
dvorištu skvota, Metelkove
i pitala sve što sam htjela
pitati, slušala njegove i
dijelila svoje priče. Uživala sam u svakom trenu druženja. Ispričala sam mu tada negdje (nije mi
to prvi put da nekome samo iz neba pa u rebra ispričam situaciju iz koje se poznajemo iz prošlog života), da se znamo. Ne da se osjećam kao da se znamo cijeli život, već da se uistinu poznajemo iz prošlih života. Ispričala
sam mu kako sam ja bila bogata dama, a on moj kočijaš. Neka posebna, prešućena
privrženost je postojala među nama, međutim nije se imala priliku
manifestirati više nego je.
Osjećala sam se kao da mi
je nedostajao dugo vremena. Sjeti se, pričam
ti o drugom susretu s osobom u ovom životu.
On je sve to prihvatio na način
da mi vjeruje da ja u to vjerujem. To je bilo dovoljno. Ostali smo u kontaktu,
pisali si pisma, dijelili priče
i glazbu. Neka  pisma su se zagubila dok
sam bila u Indiji, ali kontakt je unatoč
tome ostao. Poznanici neobično
dragi jedan drugome, sa željom
da (p)ostanemo prijatelji.

Priča 3 je
nedavno ispričana baš na ovim stranicama, treba se
vratiti par klikova nazad. Ukratko, još
jedna priča srca,
jedno, ja bih rekla duuuuugo poznanstvo, ali nisam još ulazila u to odakle se poznajemo otprije. Moj prvi
prijatelj u životu, jedina
osoba koje se sjećam jasno
i privrženo kada sam bila
sasvim malo dijete. Moj Jonah. Kao djeca smo valjda najotvoreniji i znamo
instinktivno, po osjećaju,
tko nam paše, pa se s tom
djecom više igramo. Znamo
se iz Amerike, tako da šanse
da naletimo jedan na drugoga nisu bile velike, ali ipak se dogodilo, jer je
moralo. Našla sam ga na
internetu, dogovorili smo se vidjeti prvom prilikom, i sada je ta prilika došla. Dolazi u Bruxelles, a baš eto slučajno i Fred živi
u Bruxellesu. Jednog viđam
nakon 3, a drugog nakon 28 godina. Sve se to smjestilo u jedan kratki
vikend.  

Dvije priče u
jednoj. Intenzivno, a ujedno i jaaaako lijepo, zadovoljavajuće, ispunjavajuće i ljubavno. Ne ljubavno kao
ljubavničko, nego kao u
ljubavi, u prijateljstvu. Možda
ti se čini da olako
koristim riječ ljubav, možda se ona čuva samo za neke posebne
prilike, većinom odnose i
veze partnerskog tipa? No, meni ljubav znači
posvećenost, znači povezanost, znači bivanje, meditacija, boravak u
onom lijepom istovremeno opuštenom,
ali ne letargičnom, visoko
budnom stanju. Znaš li o čemu pričam?  

Zahvalna sam na tome što
mi je život toliko
intenzivno emocionalno ispunjen. Oduvijek sam bila tako nevino otvorena za međuljudske odnose. I ne mogu reći da sam uvijek samo ja bila ta
koja je dobila po nosu, bila pregažena,
ostavljena, pogođena zbog
te nevinosti. Nikako, jer su se i drugi meni nevino prepustili, i ja sam njih u
jednakoj mjeri, ako ne i više,
povrjeđivala kao što sam bila povrjeđivana. Zadnji put kad sam bila
zločesta i nesvjesna boli
koju nanosim, ima već pet
godina. Ranije su mi se veze događale
kao što se mojoj
najstarijoj sestri dogodi da kupi nove cipele, baš
su bile na popustu i totalno su genijalne, i jako udobne. Sada mi se
događaju srednjoškolski zanosi koji uvijek završavaju gašenjem s moje strane ili s druge, prije nego što se nešto ozbiljnije razvije. Očito tlo nije plodno.

 

Srce moje pleše na kiši

U Belgiji sam, kiša
pada. Sve je zeleno, maleno, kuće
simpatične, s lijepim vrtovima.
Kravice se izležavaju na
livadicama. Polja žita,
miris gnojiva. Vozimo se preko rijeke, u daljini je mali dvorac od cigle na
boku brda.

Vlak je jeftin, i adekvatno grozan. Živjeo TGV, samo za to se treba ipak malo više zarađivati. Vlak me podsjeća
na onaj Beograd-Sofija, samo ide malo brže
od 30km/h. Ništa manje ne
smrdi, dapače, ima taj neki
melange smrada spaljene gume i ustajalog zraka.

Koja sam ja sretnica! Prošli
vikend izlet u Frankfurt, prošli
mjesec jednodnevni odlazak na sami jug Njemačke
kroz maltene cijelu Švicarsku.
Dva tjedna doma na otoku. Ranije ove godine praznici u Engleskoj.

Na što se žalim? Na to što mi je skuhano, WC opran,
prijevoz kad god želim
osiguran? Što živim na graničnom području Švicarske,
Njemačke i Francuske? U mješavini jezika, kultura i
raznolikosti krajolika? Baš mi
je grozno. Imam firmu, redovnu plaću,
računovotkinju, svoju sobu,
Guru mi dolazi na vrata svakih par mjeseci. Prijatelji mi dolaze, sestre, mama
u redovitim periodima. Često
sam okružena ljudima s vlastitog
govornog područja. Škola stranih jezika mi je dala
30% popusta na individualnu nastavu iz njemačkog
jezika – ima da ga rasturim u tri mjeseca najviše.
Imam prijatelje koji imaju malu bebu, malo slatko čudo. Podršku
i priliku za razgovor sa svih strana. Pišem
što želim.

Bavim se tehnikom koja mi daje odgovore na sva pitanja ove
preznatiželjne glavurde
(Theta Iscjeljivanje), svakodnevno meditiram s minimalno 10ak ljudi, vodim yogu
i meditaciju za grupe od 100-300 ljudi. Svaki dan mogu pjevati i svirati.

Samo kad je srce na mjestu, kad je ispunjeno, kad cvjeta, tada
zahvalnosti ima da sipa preko rubova. Kad je srce usamljeno, onda sve ove dobre
prilike i lijepe stvari i ljudi koji dolaze gube na vrijednosti, gube na sjaju.

Kada moje srce sjaji, obasjava sve oko sebe. A kada je tiho i tužno i usamljeno, onda svjetlo
nestaje i vidim samo mrak.

Današnji dan
je lijep, iako u Belgiji pada kiša.
Moje srce sjaji na dan 24. srpnja 2015. godine. Obasjava sve oko sebe, i želi svojim sjajem zagrliti svaku
osobu, predmet i situaciju u kojoj se nalazi.

Sretna sam što
imam u svom životu mnogo
prekrasnih ljudi koji omogućuju
da ovo cvjetajuće srce
sjaji ko neonka. Hvala ti. Molim te nastavi biti dio mog života, skupa svjetlimo jače.

______________________________________________________________________

I am on the train. I am quite sleepy, but I had coffee, it must
shake me up. Yes, your favourite yogi drinks coffee. I have not had it for
years, I swear. I mostly got sick from it, shaky hands effect plus heart pumping
like crazy. No one drug is sweet at first, you need to get used to it. Slowly I
did, started with a bit of Indian chai, then here and there a vanilla cappuccino
and there you go. I drink about one coffee per week. Depending on
the amount of hours I spend on the train. While travelling I have more, in the
ashram none.

Train is the best. I can type the entire time. While I
used to live in Zadar, I would travel every weekend, usually on the bus: you fall asleep, listen to music or an audio
book –
all quite passive. On the train, I can write – I can do something, because I just
never get really tired of writing.

So, I feel sleepy now. I feel sleepy because I was staying up late with my
roommates. We would be awake till 11 or 12, and I would wake up at 6 –
that just does not work well. Plus having very activity intense days.

I want to take advantage of the coffee effect while it lasts and
tell you a story of three men present in my life. One should know that next to all possible adventures I keep having, the biggest and most important one is the one my heart is having. My heart is the one that takes me on this trip as well. I am
wearing a T-shirt that says HEAD vs. HEART. In my case the heart wins in the
end. Seems to always win. As Željko, an astrologer (a brilliant Jyotishi from Novi Sad,
Serbia) said about me: “When the emotional aspect gets settled, for you everything
else becomes much easier.”

So true!

With me everything starts once the heart flutters; then mountains
fall. Not only as in having a partner. When my heart wishes, all adventures start
coming to life, because the heart gallops, and the body has no choice but to
run along behind it.

Story No. 1

Fred: I lived in Zadar at the time. I would go somewhere every
weekend: Split to meet friends, Brač to visit my sister and mother, Zagreb
where my father and sisters, friends are, Tuzla for fun. Eva asked me to
translate a concert announcement that she was the organiser of. The translation
was French to Croatian, as the perfomer was Belgian. I liked the text and I
wanted to hear how it sounded – I did and liked it. A chance
to listen to a new and interesting band is not a thing to be wasted. I marked the date
in my calendar making sure to go to Zagreb for the concert. At that time I had a student ID and
could travel cheaply, and also I had a nose for secret bus lines with good
discounts.

A few months
later I had arrived to Zagreb looking forward to the concert, that much more as
Zadar is a dead zone for concerts. I am not sure what the problem is; is it the local
government or lack of initiative or whatever is necessary to move
things around there? There is certainly not a lack of bands that would play. The band I was interested into more out of the two playing was a one-man band: a harmonica, a ukulele as well as
singing+reciting in French. I cannot say I did not, because I did –
instantly fall in love. In the music, in the person behind the music. I fell in
love the only way I know how to, in those few moments of knowing a person, I got
totally thrilled just by his presence. Actually every second person I met was the
right one for me – in the first five minutes. If I really get into it, since I
first kissed, each person was the One. For some I felt it more, for other maybe
less intense. But the enthusiasm I exhibit and show, the first few moments of
total infatuation with something that is new, is unfathomable. Just to warn you,
this is not a love story. This is a story about one of three men that had and
have an emotional impact on my life.

Completely strange, dear, present and close, Fred was one of
those people that enter your life and instantly become your friend. Someone you
just want to see again and again and again. I would say there are not many people
I really truly feel so comfortable with; he/she must be of a specific specie. As
Sara once put it: you Gordana, need someone crazy enough to handle you, and
down-to-earth enough for it to be real. Or something similar, but that is how I
understood it, I stand corrected.

Fred’s and his friends’ concerts ended early, but it was time
to go to sleep, the next day they were continuing their tour. My heart was
pulling me to see them again, so we made arrangements to have coffee in the
morning. Here storyline 1 takes a break, and storyline 2 comes in instead.

 

Story No. 2

Damir: Damir is my sister’s ex-boyfriend, who, as a result of a
unhappy series of events, his own and other’s stupidity, ended up in jail. At the
time he was in Zagreb, in a transfer facility. The same morning I was supposed to
be sipping coffee with the Belgian guy, was the same day that I could have gone to
visit Damir. I had the idea how I will quickly visit Damir early morning and go for coffee. Some prisons do not share the rest of the world’s
sense of time. If you are wondering why I had not just went for the coffee,
came another only possible day to the prison and skipped the whole activity –
my reply is: because of the heart. If there exists such a person that I am not
blood relatives with, but consider to be more a part of my family than anyone
else, it would be Damir. Why do I love Damir? Because Katina (my above-mentioned sister) loves him. When
Katina loves someone, I love him as well. The domino effect of affection. The
heart matters the most. I also love him because he is smart, interesting, caring,
and because he loves me back and a bunch of other nice stuff.

Before actually getting to see him, I waited for about 7 times in queues. First I put my name down on a list in front of the building and waited
in line for them to read my name out. Once I was inside I first waited for them
to store my things away (including my mobile phone I could have used to inform
Fred that I will be late or not come at all); then another line to give the prisoner’s
clean clothes through check-up, another one to give my ID, another one for them to
check me up, another two before arriving to the visiting hall. Yes, I did
arrive to the visiting hall. If you have any idea about prison protocol
(especially a transit one), you would know only the closest family can visit (child, parent,
partner). The lady at the counter asked every single person prior to me, in a
very loud manner, NAME? RELATION? I was not asked any of those. The woman just
gave me a paper that said I could continue with the visitation process from
that point on.

While I was waiting in that last line before the visit happened,
I started to chat with some of the women; the mothers and the daughters that were
regularly visiting. They were saying how it is better when he is in prison, the
expenses are less, he gets meals served etc. They also shared with me how even
with a thousand euros bribe and a good lawyer you can bearly get them to accept a
visit from someone who is not the closest family. I sat for a while, without my
phone, looking at the clock from time to time, realising the coffee with Fred
went by a long time ago, wondering if I was to see him again, and knowing in my
heart that this is surely the most right place to be.

After having unlocked the final metal barred doors, I entered an
old-school visiting room, with wooden frames holding no windows. I
instinctively pushed my head through the little frame and kissed Damir on the
cheek. Retreating back I bumped my head on the old wood. I held both his hands
the entire time, questioning and telling. I felt somehow empowered,
stable and reassuring. The one hour went by like a second. He told me some
details of living in prison, like how one of his room-mates made a shower in
the bathroom out of bottles and a hose, how coffee and cigarettes and decent
food can be bought in the prison shop only if you are on a certain budget –
and similar stories of a crap system that drains wherever it can.

Time to go came as quickly as a summer shower that gets you wet
to the skin in a split second. In no time I was in front of the building again.
Only once I was out, something in me broke in half. I was consumed by sadness
and weakness, trembling. As if all the strength I could manage to collect just
got invested in those few hours, and then I was drained. I remember it was a
sunny day. I took a deep breath and moved on. In the rest of his stay in the
prison, I think that was the only visit he had. I am happy to have even a
little bit contributed to his journey being a little less painful, even if it
was only for a few moments.

 

The rest of Story 2, Story
3 and how it all came together

 

Two days later Fred had another show, in Ljubljana, Slovenia
(another country, but close by). When I got to know this, without blinking twice, I was on the train.
No plan, no phone number. It was so not important. Once I arrived to the club,
I was told where the bands were having dinner, and strolled away. Seeing them,
I just said: Helloooooooo!

They were not hiding their surprise. Who else comes for a concert
of not so well known bands into another state? They all played amazingly well
and Alek et les Japonaises pulled offa great show, and that is yet another very important factor in the story –
the music. For music I would go to the moon. I do not find it hard to see a
band a few times in a row, if the concerts are in a radius less than a 100 km.
We call this phenomenon a groupie, only taking out having intimate relations
with the band members (in 97% of cases). There is only one thing that fulfills
me more than a really good concert, it does not have to be perfect technically,
just that the music is cool and the performers make me happy, and that is
meditation with the Guru.

At about 3 am, after the concerts, dancing and hangouts, I took a
walk with Fred in the courtyard of the Metelkova squat asking him whatever I
wanted to know, listening to his and sharing my own stories. I really enjoyed
every single moment of that time spent together. I also told him (it is not the first time
that out of the blue I tell someone how we have known each other from previous
lives) that we know each other from before. Not that I felt as if we have known
each other our entire lives, but that we truly do know each other from past
lives. I told him how I used to be a rich lady and he my coach-driver. At the
time a special, unuttered closeness existed between us, but had no opportunity
to manifest more than it did. I felt as I had been missing him for a while now. To
put things in perspective, this is the second time I am meeting this person in
this life. He accepted what I was telling him as something I believe in. That
was quite enough for me. We stayed in touch, we exchanged letters, stories and music.
Some letters got lost while I was in India, but we managed to stay in touch.

Story 3 was just recently told here on the blog, you could go a few clicks
back. In short, another story of the heart, a long long acquaintance, even
though I have not yet looked into it, where or when is it that know each other from before. My
first friend, the only person I remember clearly and being close to since I was
a very young child. My Jonah. As kids we are so open, and instinctively we just
catch on to who is most comfortable to be with. We know each other from when I lived
in the US, so the chances of bumping into each other were not so great, but
still it did happen, as it should have. I found him on the internet, and we
said to meet as soon as the opportunity arises and it now did. He is visiting
Bruxelles, and just by chance Fred lives there too. I will see one after three years and
the other after 28. It all came together into one short weekend. Two in one.
Intense, but at the same time so beautiful, fulfilling and
connected with love. Not love as in lovers’ love, but in a friendly variety of
love. It might seem to you that I use the word love very lightly, maybe it is to
be used in some very special cases, for relationships, partnerships? To me,
love means dedication, connectedness, being, meditation, being in that
beautiful and at the same time relaxed state of being, far from lethargic, a
highly aware state of being. Do you recognize what I am talking about?

I feel grateful for life allowing me to have an intense emotional
aspect. I was always so innocently open for interacting with others; it cannot
be said that I was also the one who got beaten up for it, trampled on, left
behind and hurt because of it. Others innocently and openly came to
me and I did the same or even worse to them. The last time I was bad and
unaware of the amount of pain I am inflicting was about five years ago.
Relationships used to happen to me as my eldest sister happens to come by
shoes. There was a discount, and they were so amazing and very comfortable as
well. Nowadays I get highschool infatuations that usually end in turning off from my side or the other. The soil might not be ready for planting.

 

This heart of mine is
dancing in the rain

I am in Belgium, the rain
is falling. Everything is green and tiny, the houses are cute, with gardens.
The cows are having good time lying down on the meadows. I see fields of wheat
and smell manure. We are driving across a river, there is a brick castle
on the hill side.

The train is cheap, and accordingly so uncomfortable. Long live
TGV, but for that one has to earn a bit more. The train reminds me of the Belgrade-Sofia line, the difference being this one goes a bit faster that
30km/h. It smells no less, actually maybe worse, a mélange of burned
tyres and stale air.

How lucky I am! Last weekend in Frankfurt, last month a one day
trip through the whole of Switzerland, to the south-east of Germany. Two weeks
on the island, at home. Earlier this year holiday in England.

What am I complaining of? The fact I have food prepared for me
every day, the bathrooms clean, transportation provided for? The fact that I
live in a border area between Switzerland, Germany and France; in a mixture of
languages, cultures and diversity of scenery? Ain’t that just horrid! I have my own
company, a regular pay, an accountant, my own room, Guru at my door every few
months. Friends visiting, sisters and mother, on a regular basis. I am often
surrounded by people speaking my or similar to my language. The
foreign-language school gave me a 30% discount for individual classes –
I better hack it in three months tops! I have friends with a little baby, a
cute miracle. Support and opportunity to chat with people on all sides. Writing
what I want.

I use a technique that gives me all the answers to all the
questions of this super-curious head of mine (Theta Healing), I meditate daily
with a minimum of 10 people, lead yoga and meditation for groups of up to 300
people. I can sing and play every single day.

Only when the heart is in place, when it is content, blossoming,
then gratitude keeps coming out over the edges. When the heart is lonely, then
all the good opportunities, things and people loose their value, their shine.

When my heart shines, it lights up everything around. And when it
is quiet, sad and lonely, then the light is gone and I can see only the dark.

Today has been such a beautiful day, even though it is raining in
Belgium. My heart is shining on the date of 24 July 2015. Bathing in light, it wishes to embrace every person, object and situation in which it
finds itself in.

I am happy to have so many beautiful people in my life that make
it possible that this heart of mine shines like a lamp. Thank You. Please
continue to be a part of my life, together we shine brighter.