Tears of the Giraffe


He is tough, he is agressive, he is full of life. Always protective and excessively ambitious. He brought his family over few days ago. Instead of cheer, he brought unwelcome news to me. His eyes have seen and his ears have heard what he should not have witnessed. I could see his face had become older in the past months. He knew things are unpleasant, however, never thought they would get truly unbearable to handle. He brought sadness with him, disappointment, worry. Although he was always the one who knew how to help one get better, he stood helpless in front of me. He felt ashamed, powerless, heart broken. He did not have anything to say. He shook his head in disbelieve. He could not control them any more; tears rolled down his cheeks.

He took my hands and kept them between his for long. I could feel the energy warming up my hands, sailing through my arms right inside my heart.

He gave me a warm ‘jungle’ drink, which will allow me to become stronger. So he said. While I was drinking, he was looking around; the mountain view was breathtaking. The air was crisp, bringing a much wanted clarity. Engrossing every bit of the surroundings, he breathed a sigh of relief…He mentioned a name but I did not hear him well. Instantly he got quite distant. I could not see his face clearly anymore. He stayed as a black silhuette in the distance. My limbs become numb, my lips were cold, my eyes stayed shut and all I could feel was the warmth inside me…M


Big Mr Moonshine

– Isn’t there anything else to watch? You have seen it a million times…- so she asked and shut the door loudly behind her as she left the room.

I just watched again one of my must see movies…and can watch it again and again whenever I feel like it. I love it because it talks about simple people with big dreams. Although some are attainable, others can never be achieved. But by just trying to change the angle we see stuff, acquiring different attitude with continuos believe, we might change them and might make them achievable. I will reveal a little more about it by writing the folowing line:

– …There are two types of people; winners and losers. Winners are those who never give up and losers are those who never try…

Try to figure it out which movie I am talking about and if you find time, do watch it. You might not like it, neither it might get into your 5 favourites, but it certainly can change your perception on who you are and what you really want. It is amusing and sad in the same time. So is life. Live it…M

Picture of Hope

Few months ago I wrote about my adopted stripy stunner. Few days ago I wrote about hope. And this photo taken by WWF sums it all up…M


Hoping Against Hope

My days are nights and my nights are days… And everyone that I know says it can only get better…Yay…I am holding on to this statement by a strong rope made of hope, expecting that better might happen any moment. But with each event unfolding, my rope is getting thinner and thinner. What’s left is the hope dangling it’s weight above my life.

I am standing at the bus stop waiting for a bus. It is absolutely pouring. My thoughts are traveling back in time…

One rainy day, many years back, when I was just a young student in this city, I shared a shelter with elderly gentleman. We both waited for a bus, to take us to a different episodes in our lives. While sharing that moment in time together, he shared a wise thought with me.

– Good deeds are coming to those who are prepared to wait patiently. And in this rajasic city, one has to be grateful of any achievement accomplished. – said the old man and got ready for boarding.

The bus he intended to board arrived, and I saw his contented round face in the window waiving his umbrella back at me as the bus pulled off. His eyes were full of hope and his smile full of joy.

I stood there, where he left me, waiting and waiting. The old man made me think about some of us humans. How some are never grateful about who they are, where they are, and what they have achieved so far. And yet, are so scared of starting something different, learning something new, creating something beautiful. They hold a belief that change might require long time to be accomplished, or it might be too expensive to afford it and give up, never making that first so important step. Shortly after, they loose focus, concentration and scatter their thoughts all over. They become unhappy, lost, scared and eventually become so hopeless that they end up being useless. At the beginning, this is their intimate affair only, but later on, it is spreading onto their family, partners and friends, who once have nurtured their belief. Eventually they’ve lost all that trust that connects people together.

A bus pulled in and opened its doors. Only then I realised I was the only one waiting. The driver must had seen me and stopped for me to get on. Despite being the bus I intended to board, did not get on. I was not ready to face some of us humans. I was not ready to go, not this time, not yet…M

Flying a Kite

Since the death of her husband, she has lived on her own in the house on the hill. For years now, living with no one by her side, she got used to the silence. The silence which she shared with the sun lurking through the windows, casting its shadows over her living space. She also got used to the wind blowing stubbornly on a calm autumn evening, bringing freshness and positivity.

Each and every morning she waited anxiously for the black bird with yellow peak to tap on her kitchen window in anticipation to get fed. She felt obliged to share a stale piece of bread with this visitor, crumbling it into numerous small fragments, and leaving them on the window sill, as a gesture of goodwill. However, in return, while having her afternoon snack, she was performed the most beautiful melody of all.

‘It is amazing how a human being is able to adopt to the circumstances’, she thought and as she smiled to her own destiny, she habitually strolled down to the kitchen, put the kettle on and waited for the water to boil. Today, she seamed fully engaged with the noise and the bubles being made inside the kettle. She poured the steaming hot water over the tea leaves and covered the mug to allow some time for the tea to brew. Then she prepared two pieces of toast with peanut butter and jam and with loaded tray left the house to sit on the porch overlooking the back garden. It was at this time of the day when her little friend was performing the best pieces of music and for nothing in this world she liked to miss that magical performance.

Enchanted by it’s performance, she decided to stay surrounded by her own thoughts, playing with her own breath, breathing fresh energy in and letting go off any stale thoughts and emotions. With closed eyes, she continued exercising her sences, sensually feeling the sun rays warming up her skin, the breeze going through her hair, and the rich sound from the wind chimes somewhere in the distance. No other thoughts were occupying her attention rather than intense emotions still flowing from the past. She flicked her hair and opened her eyes as if to erase them all. She had desire to avoid any connection with her disturbing past, so she fully enagaged her taste buds with the freshly made peanut butter and jam sandwiches.

Suddenly, tears poured down her cheeks, a fur ball got stuck in her throat and the taste of her past stayed in her mouth. She remembered that this type of sandwiches were her husband’s favourites and how they were lovingly sharing them while camping up and down the country. She poured some milk in the mug and as the milk lighten up the colour of the liquid, her thoughts brighten up too. She let her tears dry out on her eyelashes and her cheeks, as she couldn’t care less to wipe them off. Instead, with a silver pin set with gems, put her hair up, and her pashmina scarf around her shoulders and went down the path to the garden shed. The wooden shed was tucked behind some mature bushes, underneath the old oak tree. Moments later, holding something in her hands, she continued down the path to the cliff, where the south wind was busy playing with the loose leaves, giving them one last breath of life, swirling them up in the air, creating small vortex of organic matter.

The sunset in the distance was indicating end of yet another beautiful autumn day. The copper colour prevailed over the horizon, giving mystical glow to the objects around.

– What is it about sunsets that makes me sad and happy in the same time? – Thought the woman while untangling the strings of the kite.

Without any hesitation she stood right on the edge of the cliff. Her long, heavy, flowery skirt covering her shoes was lightly dragging it’s weight on the ground, swiping leaves as she moved swiftly.

Her arms were lifted up in the air. Her hands were strongly and skilfully holding the strings to control the flight path of the kite. She was edging closer and closer until she was able to see the void, the thin line between the water and the rocks. The water was splashing against the rocks dispersing its droplets over them like a mist, methodically killing their thirst and curiosity. She looked down for a second, and saw her husband’s body lying over the rocks, his cheeks were still blushed, his lips stretched into a soft smile, his face radiating happiness and contentment. This is how she remembers him, and how he really was; full of life, optimistic, creative and loving person.

Every evening she was coming at this very spot to fly the kite in a memory of her husbands life. She knew that by adding motion, she will somehow make her husbands death more bearable. Weird circumstances on that tragic day contributed to her confusion and left her with questions that will never be answered.

She might have had intention to come every sunset to find new clues, any proof, or something, that might have happened many years ago, something that killed her husband’s passion for life. By flying the kite, she kept her husband alive. His passion never died, his soul remained present in that fine line between life and death. His heart was still attached to the kite and the kite itself was his own breath.

Some people, dear to us are no longer with us, they have departed this material world in search for the essence of more meaningful and fullfiling life. But the truth is they are still present and they still live through the hearts and souls of their loved ones.

Let’s remember the souls of the loved ones, who are responsible for our own existence, responsible for who we are today, our identity, our actions and our achievements. Let just take some time to remember them all, let us pray for their souls wherever they might be at this current moment. Let us express our sincere gratitude and let us send a message of love, reminding them of our promise to keep their candle burning as long as we are able to keep ours alive….M

Stripy Stunner

This morning, among my other letters in the post, I have received a report from WWF. This is the first update of 2012 about my adopted tigress Kamrita. She is a Bengal tiger and lives in Chitwan National Park in Nepal. The Chitwan National Park apparently covers an area of around 932sq km. Being responsible for this vast area is really a challenge to rangers, who have a lot of ground to cover. Also, they are faced with the biggest challenge ever, to stay vigilant against the ever present threat of poaching.

In this issue of my tigers report, there are beautiful photos posted of Kamrita and her 3 years old daughter called Ranu. These pictures were taken by new camera traps carefully positioned across the park. Thankfully to such an equipment I am now able to see these gorgeous looking animals in their natural habitat, living and breeding freely.

However, each and every tiger is rising to the challenge each and every day. It stands little chance against poachers intent on killing it for money.

An excerpt from WWF report says:

“we’ve been stepping up our efforts to tackle illegal wildlife trade, and you are playing a vital role in fighting it too. Because as well as helping to give tigers a more hopeful future your adoption also supports our wider work to challenge this huge global problem. We couldn’t do it without you.”

Furthermore, they are sending their sincere gratitude that after 109 months, I am still supporting my adopted stripy stunner and her siblings. This in fact is a gift that I am most grateful about.

My dream will become reality if one day I’ll be able to visit the Chitwan National Park and join the team of rangers with hope to see my stripy stunner live…M

236g of Happiness

If you are making a carrot cake, you might need 236g of grated carrots. If you are making a sand castle, you might need 236g of sand. If you are painting, you might need 236g of paint. To bake a spelt bread, you might need 236g of spelt flour. To make a smoothy, you might require 236g of accai berries. If you decide to make a parfume, you might require 236g of essential oils. So, as you might have noticed, the 236g ought to be a desired quantity of an ingredient to create something beautiful. And yes, beautiful can be anything from grain of sand to droplet of milk, depending on how you see it.

In my own world, 236g is the weight of one dirty nappy. Yesterday, there was a surprise in my little family, as we broke our record. The haviest and most soaked up of all so far. It is kind of scary to believe that these 236g has contributed to my happiness. Earlier, I would have never thought that I would be recording all the dirty nappies in 24 hours, not elsewhere, but on the chalk board in the kitchen, believe it or not! To add to this, never would have believed to use my kitchen weighing scale to weigh dirty nappies either.

And not to mention that I eagerly check the content of each and every nappy, and openly talk about it, even write about it. I never thought I will spend minutes analasing closely what colour and what consistency it might be. Is it yellow or mustardy yellow? Is it green or pale green? Is it runny, or quite soft and creamy? I am sorry this might sound like a poo connoisseur, but checking that the much awaited content is producing sweet honey like smell is equally important, then just judging by it’s colour.

As you might have gathered, my world has truly changed and what was once easy and pretty much straight forward lifestyle, it has become complex and most definitely weird. Truthfully, I can not wait to see how many more crazy and bizzare things will lighten up my days to come…M

New Beginning

He used to sit across the street, right across one bent and out of shape wooden door. He constantly kept staring at it. He looked like completely hypnotised person, as he kept staring at the door day and night. He gave an impression that was expecting someone to make an entry. At any time, someone to come out from his past and share his present, someone to dilute his sadness and loneliness.

On the outside though, there was a constant flow of people passing by, some were even stepping on or over his torn robes and yet nobody apologised or made contact with him. He stayed absolutely ignored.

I was intrigued to stand behind him just to see if at all he will move or even walk away. I desperately tried to understand why he sits here, motionless and breathless. I also wanted to know the connection between him and these doors, which once were straight, and beautiful. I wish i was able to understand what was so mystical about this place.

One morning, I gathered my courage and tapped on his shoulder. He did not seem to be disturbed, neither distructed by my voice. My curiosity was stronger then my pride. Without any reservation, I asked:

– What is it so special about these doors that make you spend your days staring at them?

Surprisingly, he did not move, neither he showed any interest to look into my eyes. He kept staring in front.

Eventually, as I was leaving, I heard him saying:

…A warped door. Some exits have no knob on the other side: move on and don’t go back: it’s futile: all you will find there is splinters…

In time, we all learn that life is complex network of paths, which in no doubt can be challenging, especially at a time when we are most sure of ourselves. Even as if we concously try to avoid, we become trapped in our awkward old ways of thinking. Slowly, we become weaker and on the verge of giving up, forgiving…then something comes our way…like a thunder lightning that strikes without mercy:

…”A warped door. Some exits have no knob on the other side: move on and don’t go back: it’s futile: all you will find there is splinters”…

Credits to Kirby. It came when most needed…M

Milky Way, All the Way

They say, Milky Way is the Galaxy, which houses our planet Earth. It is a glowing band, white like milk, home to 200-400 billion stars.

Well, like the macro Galaxy, my Milky Way contains 200-400 billion droplets of milk, each and every one responsible for growth. Each droplet means life, survival and existence.

These days I feel, it will be easier for me to take you around the Galaxy and back, to show you how beautiful journey that can be, then to explain how demanding breast feeding can be. Particularly that it can happen day and night, anything from few minutes to few hours. And yet, nobody told me how exhausting and equally how boring process this can be. Whenever I start thinking this way, the following happens:

– “All you career oriented girls, please always remember, it helps bonding with your child”. I can hear Coral’s voice, my midwife, in my head. “Our women”, referring to Caribbean women, “do this so naturally. Can do it anywhere, even on a crowded bus”…oops…

Fine, fine, l decided to compete with every Caribbean mum, and show them how important that is to us, European mums, but avoiding crowded buses if possible… So, I took the plunge, took the bull by it’s horns, as they say, and dived deep into this milky flow state of affairs.

So, now I am questioning, do these Carribean women have tougher ‘mammas’? To me It seams like they might be having a leathery ones. Or maybe their babies have lighter suckle. Whichever way, my reality seem to be grim and mostly unpleasant. So, I felt like a solution was required and like any other modern European mum, went to seek help from www and forums to find some sort of aid to help me compete without giving up. Sure enough, when you are looking for something, you will most definitely find it…Soon after…Eureka…A pure revelation… A solution comes my way. God bless the ‘mammas’ shields…

After few weeks, I was so happilly feeding away, until I went to see Coral once again. After my introduction about my new way of feeding, she did not say much but her face was worth a thousand words. So, in true Carribean spirit I left my shields in my bag temporarely and gave my son a real pleasure.

You may judge me and you may have your own opinion, but trust me I tried and did my best. Realised that administering is not that important after all. Keeping my milky flow running and its nutrients is of a greater importance then giving up and letting Caribbean mammas win over Europeans…M

Planet M

Thinking whether to tell you the truth or something beautiful, I decided to stick to the truth all the way. I hope that it will make you proud and honoured and fill you with joy and smiles…

My recent life changing event, left me with two hearts, one small and blissfully unaware of the reality and other one confused and shocked. As time goes by it was inevitable to learn that everything happens for a reason and this is the reason that makes me stronger, makes me a better person in some way or another. Little time was required to recover, away from any obstacles, negativities and ugly forces. Little time was required to rewrite my goals, my objectives and my dreams. Although, my words are my reality, my dreams are keeping me alive!

And as it is in life, at time least expected, we come accross people who bring a smile on our face. People who do inspire and keep us moving. People who can enter our dreams and generously share their aspirations, love and kindness. Many of these people we meet will become friends for life, and will form part of our character. And yes you are right, I don’t even know you, I haven’t even met you, neither seen you, and yet I’ve felt tremendous kindness and positivity radiating from your end.

So, by coincidence or simple synchronicity (who knows), I named my baby boy Marko. My little warrior was very eager to arrive earlier, to meet me, to show me his gratitude and true value in life. He came out very quickly, causing as little pain as possible, and as little damage as possible…

And trully, he gets all my affection, he is my little precious soul, my dragon, my little tigarce and my creator. I wish I could share my joy and be part of a family but my reality is very much a lonely journey, designed for endless strive to achieve and be entirely responsible for another being.

Truthfully, don’t even know if I ever be able to meet you, neither that these words will be read by you and yet I felt obliged to write them down.

Anyhow, maybe nothing is clear for the future, but the fact that I’ve equipped myself for the worst that life can throw at me, gives me great strength and confidence to walk forward. And as promised…There is no option of giving up at any point in my life.

With great hope for love and light on this journey,


Live boldly, follow your dreams, take risks, look after your friends and smile when the mountain is steepest…Bear Grylls