Reborn

When life gets too much

I run away and hide

I dive into the pages

Lose myself between the lines

Find myself in the ellipses

The silent words soothe my injured soul

Whisk me away to distant worlds

Give me a ride in a time machine

I cry but those tears are cleansing

They are a blessing

A reminder I’m still alive

I laugh and my wounded heart

Purrs like a kitten

Basking in the sunshine

Content and relaxed

My mind wanders

Exploring new worlds

Roams freely above the mountaintops

Drops down the waterfalls

Climbs the rainbows and bounces on clouds

I meet new friends

Follow their journeys

Watch kids grow

Witness lives beginning and ending

Say goodbyes

So many goodbyes

I dive out sooner or later

Can’t avoid it

Nothing lasts forever

Breathing in a lungful

Of the familiar air

I realize

It’s not that bad

I take in my surroundings

The colors are brighter

Or have they always been this way?

Maybe it’s me

I’m the one who’s changed

Recharged

Restarted

Reprogrammed

Reborn

Embracing Change

I have a love-hate relationship with change. 

I think many people do. 

It’s so strange. One would think that change is such an inevitable part of life–pretty much the material life itself is made of–that we should be used to it and take it as something absolutely natural. Yet we keep resisting. We keep letting it throw us off track.

Everything in this world is about change. Morning changes to daytime, and then to nighttime. Days of the week change. Months. Seasons. 

Our bodies change. Our minds. Our feelings. Our habits. Sometimes, it happens slowly and gradually, and sometimes we feel like we blinked and the world turned upside down. 

There are changes we look forward to, and changes we fear. Even though we realize time never stands still, we find ourselves caught off guard looking in the mirror and noticing the first wrinkles, or stray gray hairs.

And then your favorite coffee shop closes down, and a new place opens instead. Another change that causes discomfort. You can live with that, of course, but you keep looking back and thinking how different your life used to be with or without those seemingly insignificant things. 

My generation has witnessed probably the most drastic change ever. Personally, I come from a place that was very different from the rest of the world, so it hit me even harder. I was born and raised in a country that doesn’t exist anymore, so I witnessed a whole world collapse before my eyes before I was even a teen.

Things kept changing at lightning speed. Later on, I moved to a different country. Learned a new language. My family fell apart. Fast forward a few years–I built a new family. 

I’ve lost people I loved. I’ve made new friends and learned new skills. Fell in love again, and brought a new life into this world.

I should be immune to change by now. 

But I’m not. 

This year brings a whole lot of change into my life. While my youngest son starts daycare, my eldest graduates from high school, learns to drive, and plans to leave in a few months to study abroad. I’m equally excited and terrified. 

Over the years, I’ve learned to adapt and adjust to pretty much anything. If I was to pack up tomorrow and move to another place–house, city, country, continent–I know I’m capable of doing that. I’ll manage. 

Will it be easy? Absolutely not. 

A few years ago, writing books was a dream of mine. A life-long dream. Something that never changed over all those years in the crazy whirlwind of my life. 

Today, I have several books published–in a foreign language–and I keep being hard on myself for not writing and publishing more. I’m always impatient. Always eager to do more, learn more, achieve more. 

And at the same time, I’m afraid of change. If I’m fully honest with myself, more often than I’d like to, I want to freeze the time. I want to press pause. Especially when it comes to thinking of the day (just a few months away) when my son gets on a plane and heads towards his new life.

How is it even possible, I wonder? To look forward to change, to growth and development, at the same time wanting to hide in a corner–in a cozy comfort zone–and being anxious about what tomorrow brings?

My little son plays a game and gets frustrated when he can’t get it right. I tell him, “It’s okay. You’re learning. That’s the whole point of it. That’s the fun part. If everything was easy, it would be boring.”


And at the same time, I think–how often do we as adults realize that? Can we even imagine what life would be like if nothing was ever changing? If we were stuck in a moment, like a mosquito trapped forever in a piece of amber?

In the third book of my trilogy, my main character ends up in a world where there’s always sunset. It’s a beautiful, idyllic little place. But after a while, she finds herself depressed, hating sunsets, and keeping the curtains closed because she doesn’t want to look out the window anymore. 

Would I want to be in her place, I ask myself? Most certainly not. 

As painful and uncomfortable as it is, change is something that fuels this life. Change is, at the end of the day, the only thing that makes sense. 

The question is, how do we make peace with it?

Somewhere Between the Worlds

Imagine a café somewhere between the worlds, where you can meet your lost loved ones.

You’ll sit down and order a drink, and then you’ll have a chat as if nothing happened.

Or maybe it’ll be a different kind of chat. The one where tears stream down your cheeks as you keep repeating, “I’m so sorry for everything” and “I miss you so much.” And they just smile and pat your hand, saying, “It’s okay”, and give you a tissue.

The sadness hiding in the corners of their eyes will tell you it breaks their heart to see you like this. And you’ll realize that it’s not what you came here for. It’s not why you were given this chance.

So you wipe your tears and order another drink, and maybe a meal too. And you say, “Hasn’t the weather been crazy lately?” Or “You know, the other day my car wouldn’t start, and I was late for work.”

And you tell them that your cat has been acting weird lately, and that you’re starting a new diet, and that the prices went up again. And how amazing the last book you read was, and that the rose bush in your garden is about to bloom.

You save those tears for later. For when you wake up and realize that of course it was a dream.

Although you know that of course it wasn’t.

Life Is Not Enough

All the books I want to read.

All the stories I want to write.

All the places I want to go.

All the things I want to do.

Time slips through my fingers, and I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white, but the precious grains of sand keep escaping. The wind picks them up and carries them away, mocking me.

“Catch me if you can.”

Of course, I can’t.

Another day gone. Another week, another month.

Another story left untold.

Another path not explored.

Isn’t it cruel—that here it is, this enormous, fascinating, delicious world—so tempting, so mouthwatering—yet you can’t bite off more than you can chew?

“There are no limits!” My immortal soul squeals in delight.

“Oh, yes, there are.” The earthly body glances at the watch. “No time for this today, my dear. We’re on a schedule, mind you. Chop-chop.”

They’ll come at night, in my dreams. Exciting, untold stories.

Wondrous, undiscovered places.

All the might-have-beens and could-have-dones.

They’ll leave me in the morning, as I open my eyes, with a pang in my heart and a faint shadow of regret.

Regret for what wasn’t meant to be.

What wasn’t on the schedule.

Chop-chop.

Things We Carry

People carry so much.

Our whole life, we carry something. And the older we get, the more our spines bend under the weight.

We carry bags full of shopping. School backpacks. Purses. Piles of textbooks. Suitcases. Boxes with our belongings as we move to a new place.

We carry our kids when they’re tired. We carry their backpacks, their toys, their scooters and skateboards.

We carry our pets to the vet clinic.

We carry guilt. Regrets. Nostalgic memories.

We carry self doubt. Grief. Fear. Anxiety.

We do carry our dreams too, but they are the lightest. They don’t weigh that much—so oftentimes they escape and disappear high in the sky like a balloon.

Our hands are rarely free of weight. Neither are our hearts and minds.

So sometimes we catch ourselves looking up at the birds roaming in the sky and a faint whisper of envy touches our souls. What would it be like, we wonder, to be so light and free? What would it feel like to soar among the clouds with no added weight?

And someday, we’ll find out.

Childhood fears

When I was little, 

there were two things 

that would keep me up at night

and have me in tears.

First was the infiniteness of space, 

and the other was the inevitability of death.

I live in a city, I thought. 

The city is within a country.

The country is within a continent,

The continent within a planet.

The planet is in space.

Now, what is space within?

Where does it end? 

And what’s beyond the border?

Enough to drive a five-year-old crazy.

I’m forty-five and I still don’t understand.

Death terrified me. Not the process,

not even the fact itself. 

Rather, what happens after.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Here I am, I thought, 

Lying here and thinking these thoughts 

and feeling these feelings. 

But when I die, what happens then?

Who’s going to think and feel these things? 

Where will I go? 

I can’t just disappear now, can I?

I can’t just stop being. 

That would be wrong. Too cruel. 

Impossible and illogical 

Just like the infinite space.

Forty years later, 

I’m not afraid of death as such.

I definitely don’t look forward to it. 

I hope I have plenty of time to enjoy this crazy life.

But when the day comes,

I know I won’t just disappear.

Space still baffles me.

Reflections, Regrets, and Resolutions

As the year comes to an end, many of us find ourselves reflecting on the year’s wins and losses, and making plans for the future.

If we find time for that, of course. 

The thing is, though, there’s always time. It’s more about finding the energy and mustering the courage to be honest with yourself. 

Of course, you don’t have to. After all, it’s just a date on the calendar, isn’t it? Nothing magically changes overnight. No matter how much we would like it to. 

Change takes time and effort. And whether the beginning of a new year is a big thing for you–or you couldn’t care less–it’s still a great time to sit down and reflect. 

The end of the year can be quite an overwhelming time. When you’re overwhelmed and stressed, when you have a million things on your mind and your to-do list, it’s easy to end up feeling lost and confused. To miss the important part. 

And by the important part I mean looking back and assessing what you have achieved. What this past year has taught you. Have you changed? Have you grown? Have you done anything you should be proud of? 

First of all, you’ve made it through this year, with all the challenges and obstacles life keeps throwing at you. It’s already a big win. It’s a massive accomplishment. 

But look deeper. Look at the details. Find a few minutes amongst the festive craziness to sit down and think. Pick up your notebook, or open your notes app on the phone. Start writing down the things you have accomplished. All of them, big and small. Don’t rush with the plans and resolutions. They’ll come later. Acknowledging what you want to change in your life is important, but it also means focusing on the things that you lack. That you “failed at” so far–in your own thinking. Start with the things that you have achieved first. You’ll be surprised. We tend to overlook these things. We take them for granted. They always come with a “but”, have you noticed? 

“Well, yes, I did publish a book this year, but only one… And I haven’t finished writing my next one.”

“Well, yes, I did make some progress in my career, but I want more. This isn’t enough.” 

“Well, yes, I did make some great memories of traveling/spending time with friends and family/reading good books/watching movies/going to concerts, but I wish I had done more. Seen more. Read more. Written more.”

I’m sure you’ll find these thoughts familiar. We always seem to focus on the things we want/need/haven’t accomplished/fear missing out on. 

Except it doesn’t help. It’s the least productive thing to do. You can’t go back in time and change things. But you can make a plan for the future. A solid, detailed plan of actions you are willing and ready to take in order to achieve those goals. 

But first, you need to acknowledge your wins. Contradictory to my favorite quote, “Don’t look back, this isn’t where you’re heading,” sometimes you need to. Sometimes, you need to look back and assess what you’ve done wrong and what you’ve done right. Doing that will help you with creating your plan for the future. 

Look at what you have achieved and learned this year. Give yourself credit. See how much effort you have put in. It’ll show you how capable you are of achieving things when you are truly determined. 

At the beginning of the year, I was terrified each time I was invited to do an author interview. I still did. But I never went back to watch them. It bothered me. So I made a decision to step out of my comfort zone. I started a podcast. Then I started a YouTube channel. Later in the year, I had an idea of making a series of videos with daily reminders. Things I myself need to be reminded of, from time to time. I spoke on podcasts. I’ve done several interviews on YouTube.


At some point, I felt deflated and discouraged. After constantly putting in a lot of time, effort, and energy, sometimes I feel like it’s not leading anywhere. I’ll be completely honest–I regularly think of giving up.

And that’s where I’m going wrong. 

Whether my words reach thousands of people, or hundreds, or only a handful–they still matter. They can still make a difference. If I can help one person today–in one way or another–it’s already worth it. 

And without a shadow of a doubt I know I have grown from this experience. I have overcome my fears. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I still don’t have thousands of subscribers–and I don’t know if I ever will–but I am proud of what I have achieved. I’m proud that I accepted my own challenge. And this is what I decide to take with me into the new year. 

I haven’t published several books, learned a new language, or climbed Everest. I haven’t saved the world. But I created several new ones in my stories. I published the last novel in my fantasy trilogy. I wrote several short stories for my upcoming collection. I started writing poems. As of today, I’ve made fifty videos with encouraging daily reminders. I went to another city to see a concert by my favorite band. I listened to music, read amazing books, made new friends on different social media platforms, watched some breathtaking sunsets at the sea, and took thousands of photos and videos. I celebrated my little son’s fourth birthday, and in a few days, I’ll be celebrating my elder son’s eighteenth.

There are so many blessings, wins, achievements, and miracles in my life that I’m feeling overwhelmed when I think about it. 

And this is a good way of feeling overwhelmed. It’s the right way. 

Please find the time to reflect and count your blessings. Please celebrate yourself, your life, and all your accomplishments this year. And then–if you do decide to make New Year resolutions–you’ll be making them not from the position of lacking something or being unhappy with your life. You’ll be looking at what other incredible things you can do in your amazing–one and only–life. 

Take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself. And don’t forget to be proud of yourself.