Archive | January, 2016


24 Jan

found on

He was on the plane on his way home, turning back from a business trip and thinking about his future days. He lost his wife few weeks ago. Now living alone, trying to figure out what was next.

“What have you got for me, God?” he asked every day. Every morning he woke up and went to work. He was meeting the same people, eating the same food, doing the same things. You could see the sorrow on his face.

“What is it, God?  What’s left? So this is how it is going to be now? This is how it all ends? Why did she have to die? Why did she leave me alone here? Why do I have to live in this misery? ”

Every day he was praying the same prayer. In his prayers he just wished that his pain would go away. That he would start to live normal life again. He was getting angry for these selfish thoughts. She didn’t choose to die. She just did, because she couldn’t fight with it anymore.

Colon cancer. How do you fight with that? You fight with all you have got, but maybe it is not enough. Maybe all you have got is not what will save you. How do you cope with that? You fight even more. And so she fought like a lion. She didn’t admit that she was going to die. She used every possible cell in her body to persuade herself that she would survive this. That she would not leave her husband here alone. But the cancer was stronger.

He always spends the time on the plane by thinking and analyzing if there was anything more he could do to save her. Maybe they could try another treatment or maybe they could visit some other specialist. Alternative treatment could have been an option, unless it would have been just a waste of time. Time was the important factor. She didn’t have much time and so they tried every option and every treatment possible in such a short time she had had left.

She was the light of his life throughout their whole marriage. They were always known as the happy couple in their neighborhood. Everybody wanted to be like them. Great big house, great car, no money problems…but not everything was as it seamed.

Although she was the perfect wife, as you can call it, the truth was he didn’t seem to care. The only thing he cared about was whether the dinner was ready, whether his clothes were clean and ironed or whether they looked as the perfect couple in public eyes. She hoped he would change eventually. But the change never came. Until she became ill.

When doctors told them there is no chance that she would survive another year, it was as if her husband woke up from a very long dream. He realized that he was going to loose everything and there was no way back. And so he started to behave as the best husband ever. He was buying flowers for her, taking her to trips on which they would spend their second honeymoon. He spent all his time with his wife, trying to fix those years when she was as a ghost for him. When she became a real ghost of herself, she could not even speak anymore, she lost all her hair, he fell to the biggest depression. He blamed himself for her sickness.

He fell asleep during the flight. And this little moment when he felt sleepy and finally let himself to take a rest from his painful thoughts, saved him. This little moment gave him hope that everything will be fine again. During this moment he had a dream. His wife came to him in this dream and she was holding flowers in her hands. He never saw her this beautiful. She came with a smile on her face, gave him the flowers and told him that everything is fine now and there is no reason for him to keep this anger or sadness anymore. She gave him a message that she is fine. When he woke up, he felt unreal. After all that time of sorrow, he felt that everything really would be O.K.

He landed safely, went home and since that day, he started to forgive himself for the hard time he gave his beloved wife when she was alive and healthy.

The Miraculous Spirit of David Bowie

13 Jan

Although I didn’t know the music of David Bowie very well, I knew him as very famous and acclaimed singer. The sad news about his death spread around the world and left his fans unprepared for this loss. As much as I was not such a big fan, I was not a hater neither. And I admired everything he did and created. This is my thank you note to the big Starman.

As many celebrities are sharing their sadness and sending their condolences to Mr. Bowies grieving family, fans are sharing their tributes of this great artist. You can see photos and videos with his greatest songs everywhere now. David Bowie got even more popular and admired than before. I am just sorry that it happened this way. Like in many cases before. The sadly famous Club 27. Many talented artists died too young only to becomme never forgotten. David Bowie was not 27 when he passed away. However his music became immortal. Even nonfans like me started to listen to his songs.

But there is something more that got me thinking. Despite his wild past, there is something about him that tells you how normal and kind person he was, how creative soul he had. When you watch his videos from early years, you see some kind of sadness in his eyes. So many alteregos he had….OK, I understand it was an art and all, but still. There will not be another David Bowie. Nobody had this kind of imagination and creativity.

And so I wanted to dedicate this short post to one of the greatest artists of all time. To the Starman, Ziggy Stardust, Angel of Death, to The Man Who Sold The World. He showed us that we can be heroes. Even just for one day. And now, he is waiting in the skies.

Creativity and Fear

9 Jan
found on

found on

I admire artists. I have always admired them. Their independent spirit, incredible imagination, their lust for creation of something new and unknown… I used to tell myself that I could never be one of them. I could never create something that would be called ART. I considered myself a normal regular person with no talent. Art is not for me, I don’t know how to write or draw, nor do I know how to sing or dance, I told myself. But of course this was back when I was a kid and I knew little about life and its obstacles. It was many years later that I found my inner voice that wanted to say something.  And it was that time when I started to fight my fear of writing.

During my school years I hated writing. I hated all the assignments concerning writing some words on my own. To create some short story or an essay one page long? No way. It scared me. I would just sit in my room for hours with blank page in front of me, not knowing how to begin. I was stuck and everything that I created sounded pathetic, boring or rather basic. I had this big fear inside telling me how awkward I am. But it wasn’t that. I was not awkward or pathetic. It was the inner block that was making me crazy. All those words I wanted to say, the freedom I wanted to get by writing were lost in me. I didn’t realize it until last year. All this time I was only afraid of being criticized by teachers or other people. But who cares! Yes! This was what I should tell myself that time. Who cares? Well I don’t. Not anymore.

I am currently reading Elisabeth Gilbert’s book “Big Magic”. I love her books. I love her writing style and her devotion for literature. She encourages her readers not to give up their passion for art of any kind. If you love writing, write. If you love painting, paint. If you love dancing, dance and never give up your devotion for something that fulfills you with joy and happiness. You can start at any age. It is never too late.

My mother had stable job for 32 years and she never spent her free time doing something that you can call art or creating. She spent all her free time with family. Not that I was complaining. After 32 years she quit her job and started to sell photo albums which she created herself. She opened her own travel agency and she is finally doing something that makes her happy.

I don’t want to quit my job and I know that I will not become famous writer or anything, but I want to write for the pure joy of it. The feeling when you create a story and give life to characters that gives me energy.

Mrs. Gilbert’s book motivated me to not give up and to continue to work on my writing. It really doesn’t matter that my first essays were not that good. Actually they were pretty bad. But we can never get better and stronger without some falls. Believe me. I have been there. Hundreds and hundreds of essays that I cried over. Thousands of school assignments got me to the floor.

Where am I coming with all this? Writers are able to create something which can be real or unreal. They can create whole new world with no borders. They can create pure characters which are hardly possible to find nowadays. To be a writer with this kind of power, that’s a dream come true.