Misunderstood. Not sure if for sending mixed signals or lack of empathy and communication… as a foreigner I face some sort of misunderstanding and misinterpretation on daily basis. And let me tell you something: it’s exhausting. Despite of my pretty good level of expression, higher than average vocabulary where I can cover even more complex, abstract and scientific topics as well as idioms and collocations existing only in the non native language, I still seem to find myself when I have to describe what I mean, to explain, to extrapolate.

It makes me think that maybe my command of the language isn’t as good as I imagined. Maybe it’s because the other participants involved are in such mindset that doesn’t allow them to look over any potential errors and mistakes and filter the message beyond those. Maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they can’t. I’m not asking for pity. Or patience. Just open your mind, broaden your horizons.

Funnily enough, similar thing happens with my tattoos. For sure, first glance might trigger just a basic image. One or two very distinguishing features can lead one astray. So I have this very simple, almost minimalistic Sword of Justice tattooed. It’s a sword with a bowl hanging from each end of the cross guard. There are few finer details. Alef in the middle of the cross guard, symbols of Sun and Moon on the bowls. Spiral tied grip. Light and dark halves of the blade. Has anyone ever mentioned Sword of Justice? No. Only if I was born under the Libra sign… I’m Cancerarian. Ankh and Scarab is mistaken for Christianity and interests in entomology, Raven for Phoenix..

Are assumption and prejudice guilty? Ignorance? Lack of empathy? I don’t know. But I know that all that shaped me. I’m always looking for several points of view. Different perspectives. Understanding. Empathy. Narrow mindness is frowned upon in my world.




All The Red Strings.

Once in a while I’m going back to my roots. To all the places that were my homes at the times. 
To the small town in the west of the country, nestled in the hilly landscape with forests and woods all around, where I grew up. 
If I have time, I might pop in the old spa town where I tried to learn how to adult and failed thanks to my teenage “know-it-all” attitude. A place of most of the “first times” and “rebellions”. But I haven’t been there for ages.
Another stop is in the beer city in the south. There I finally learned how to adult, I found my first proper job, I studied uni as my dad wanted me to, I was blessed to become part of amazing group of friends who shaped me immensely.
However, I’ll never skip that dreamy village where it seems as if the time had stopped. I found there my second family and great love. And equally great heartbreak. And even though the bond that originally tied us together is gone with my lover, the family will always welcome me with arms wide open.
All these are in my heart forever. With all the people I loved, with whom our paths had to part years ago. 

But there’s a tiny red string still connecting our souls.
It’s been a year since my last visit and an awful lot changed in my life. Breakup/escape from one sided relationship, wild times as a party animalI as a reaction to it, seeking a shelter in a girl’s heart, saving Dragon slayer and The Broken Man so I wouldn’t have to think about my own damaged armour, Christmas just by myself- and then, finally, when the old year died off in the fireworks, the Moon-of-my-life found me, hugged me so tight, that all the little pieces fell in place once again. 
But there are still the bright red strings attached..
In the home town, there’s The Chivalrous Knight in shiny armour dwelling. To this day he says that one day, at the end, he will marry me anyway. It was a young love, yet very fierce. And our red string survived even the stormy time of anger.
The citadel of beer is connected by many red strings to those who I was young once with. We all moved on by now; so some strings faded and some strings were worn so thin that they snapped. And there was one which I thought that doesn’t exist anymore, but only during the last visit was found… yet it caused no more pain. Never more. 
And then there is this particular string. To the family that I was almost part of. This one is strong and tricky, woven with love, laughter, tears, pain, betrayal, joy, understanding, sentiment. Nice and neat weave with few knots marking the struggles, binding me to my One in Million. 
The New Moon in Cancer just passed became the point where we reached the full cycle of running and chasing each other. Dust of the years has been brushed off and the air has cleared. We spoke. We sat at the ‘altar’ by the old oak in summer breeze, overlooking ripples on the golden field of ripening wheat. We run our fingers over the knots and we forgave each other. Now there’s only love and peace between us again. The crimes from the old days are gone and great memories have risen from the shadows. 
I am not yours anymore, you are not mine anymore. Never more. That’s why there’s Raven sitting on my shoulder. That’s why there were three others seeing us off.
Never more.

On Mythical and Phoenix. Daily Prompt.

There’s a story, a legend perhaps, about young maiden and hero, half man and half god, about how they became each other’s worlds and then scorched them. A classic of tragedy art.

Our hero was well built young chap, smart and kind, and handsome. A gentle giant in a way. Knight in heart. 

Our maiden was the wild one. Some would say she was pretty, although not the “classical beauty”. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. That was the way she lived.

One night these two met. A magical night, indeed. He chose her in a crowd during a celebration in the town. She dismissed him few times, but he wasn’t having it. There was a loud music and she was tired after all day and he wanted  “to talk”?! He wasn’t first, neither the only one that night who tried to woo her, but for sure, he seemed the nicest and brightest (no wonder, he was a half god!). So it happened that at one moment he knelt before her, grasped her around her knees and gracefully and without any obvious effort tossed her onto his broad shoulders and carried her away from all that noise. That’s where “sweep somebody of their feet” comes from.

They fell in love. They explored, learned, grew. They loved each other well and deeply. It was young love, but certainly pure.

One day, the maiden had to leave for another kingdom. It was new to both and they were scared. But they promised to each other: “come what may, I will love you until my dying day.” But hardships of this rocky road were too much to bear. Hero, without his heroine, became sick with loneliness, he lost his will and track and eventually found himself in comforting arms of another girl. When the news reached the maiden, her world burst in flames and her heart cracked open. Three days and three nights she cried for her lost lover, scratching her skin until the blood appeared. On the morning of the fourth day there was not a single tear left, scabs sealing the wounds on her shoulders and neck. Something in her died.

Days became grey mass of eternity, no beacons on horizon anymore. All food was tasteless. Bird songs were muffled. But she couldn’t make herself to hate him.. “Come what may…”

The moon grew and shrank. Seasons passed. Then the grief melted away. She rose from ashes of her old self, beautiful and fiery again, love shining through her eyes, spreading her wings to hug and embrace and fly free. A mythical creature, immortal. “…I will love you until my dying day.”

On Choice and Change. Daily Prompt.

My recent companion/pupil lives by this saying: “All or nothing”. In the first stage of dating we spent lots of time talking and unfolding each other’s personalities, like you do, as we didn’t know each other from before. He’s an Absolute guy. And I’m a Spectrum girl. 

Because I’m like a collection of paradoxes (shallow AND deep, sensitive AND cold hearted..and anything between..) I just can’t understand his two dimensional reality. I guess that’s why he’s around. I make him question the ends of the range. 

But make no mistake, I haven’t been always like that. When growing up, I tried to identify with “boxes” and “labels” and “absolutes”. Then I came across a motivational program (which I can’t remember who it came from), where they talked about limits and self-sabotage, as in having two “colliding” wishes, like “I can have a degree OR stable income”, “I can have a great career OR functioning family” and from there you’d start working on one of the outcomes. But in that article they proposed a question: what if you change OR into AND?? This tiny adjustment can completely change your point of view and will help you generate more “outside the box” solutions on how you could achieve such a goal. 

Then and there my perception changed. Now I know I’m All AND Nothing. I have no beginning and no end. I have no limits unless I confine myself to the six walls of impossible.

On Flame and Anger. Daily Prompt.

As a girl of temper I quite often go up in flames. Because I do give a f*ck and things have meaning to me. So when attacked in any form, the emotion, whether it’s thundering anger or burning joy, is multiplied within the split of a second. Like lighting a match. 

The younger version of me, let’s say late teen and early twenties, was walking ticking bomb, rebellious in heart, courageous and confident, like all youngsters are. Back then “I knew better”, I wasn’t afraid to burn. Until I burned someone I loved. Fire words we say in anger hurts the most.

Then I grew cautious about those temper tantrums, I wanted to be stable, I didn’t want people tiptoeing around me in fear that they might do or say something that would unleash the storm within me. I wanted respect, but not induced by fear.

So I slowly learned “how to become a member of modern society” by biting my tongue and keeping the fire inside. To vent that power I became passive aggressive person. I’m not saying it’s the best approach to people and situations, but at this point in my life, I can’t deny that choleric temperament in me.

I still firmly believe we need those flames in our lives. Time to time. Burning desires, fierce storms. It shows us what we care about, it points out our values. But we also need to be in charge of the eruption, not just being dragged around by it. It’s a generated power that can be useful if focused in the right direction.

After all there always will be topics that anger us on the deepest level of our humanity.

On Bridges and Connecting. Daily Prompt.

We build them to overcome the obstacles, we cross them to reach the dream, we pay the toll to the Troll living under it and we burn them to slow down the hunting demons. And some of us, only a few, become Bridges, a human version of burning rainbow Bifröst.

You know these people. They connect worlds, whether we talk about whole realms, or worlds spreading inside everyone of us. Some stand strong and safe, letting those brave to cross to the other side and see the miracles and wonders. Some are rather weak, battered by pounding of thousands pairs of feet. Some will become one only for one single time, they transverse the abyss to save the lost soul from the steep rocky wall. Some will serve where there the ferryman couldn’t fight the strong currents any more.

Some are only one way.. Some only one time..

On Rearrange. Daily Prompt.

Time to time, the nomadic part in me goes berserk. The smell of distance won’t let my thoughts go straight, but leaves them staggering and swirling like drunk dancers, crazy and colourful frame strips and pictures. But I can’t just get my arse somewhere new just because. You need a plan for such thing. But you can do one thing..

Every now and then, to calm that traveller’s fever, I have small ritual. What my mind wants is just a little change without debilitating fear of big changes and new commitments. So, guess what! All I do is just I rearrange my flat. Simples! Refreshing my closest environment.. Two days of walking into things that weren’t there before. A week of admiration of new piece of art or decoration. Two weeks of desperate searching for “that safe place I can put this and that I will never forget”. Three attempts to learn writing left handed. Two late arrivals to work due to trying out new way to get there.. Just getting some fresh air to that “pumpkin sitting on my shoulders” 🙂

And then, when all is fresh and new and interesting again, then there’s time for all those drunk thoughts to sober up, line up again, rearrange and start making sense again.