You are responsible for your feelings.

“You broke my heart.”, “You hurt me.”, “You are responsible for my pain!”, “You made me feel so….”

Have you ever been told one of the above phrases before? Sounds familiar? Many of us faced similar statements, which could be called, without going too far, sort of accusation.

And quite honestly, who of us never told them to other person too? I admit I did, and probably many times. Not anymore.

That does not mean that I don’t get hurt anymore, that I don’t get turned down, that I don’t get rejected and refused. I do, but I learned to react to these situations in a different way.

Saying to others that they are responsible for the way you feel, is the same thing as saying: you have control over my feelings = you are controlling me. It is not me who is the unique commander of my ship; you are holding the wheel too. And what follows is a vicious circle of ups and downs- hopeful expectations and sorrowful disappointments. 

Way out of this circle is by assuming the responsibility. Believe it or not, everything that happens in your life is the sole responsibility of one person: you. In some life scenarios, this might seem too big a piece to swallow – how could I possibly be responsible for being in a plane crash??  Hard to admit, I know, but I believe that even in such extreme cases it is true. Everything happening in our life has a good reason and was brought to us by the attractive quality of energy we give out. Not to crash us down, but to redirect our course, to communicate. Universe is talking to you every moment of your life; you just need to tune in the right radio frequency to become receptive. 

This is a very broad subject, so to keep it simple(r), in this blog I will concentrate only on the part of responsibility connected to feelings.

Love, hate, jealousy, admiration, respect, awe, fear, sadness, happiness…all of these are feelings. The list could go on and on, random feelings, some of them are synonyms, some of them occupy quite the opposite field. But they all have one common denominator: their source. They are all generated inside of you.  And as such, they are your creations. They are not externally acquired entities, floating up in the air and waiting to be absorbed by whoever happens to pass by.  

So what is a feeling? Feeling is our first reaction to a situation, to sensual perception or a thought. Feeling is a powerful communication tool. Feeling is an indicator based on past experience – you’ll probably get the feeling of fear seeing a big dog running around free if you were bitten by one before- but not only that. Feeling can also be the gateway to our immortal soul; it can be the fine bridge, the golden telephone line to the calling of our heart, which I think, is the language of our soul. How else could you get a feeling from something you never experienced in the past, even before your mind grasps it in its super fast processing machine and judges it good or bad? Sitting in presence of enlightened person or observing a masterpiece of art- these are examples of how feelings can be tied to the instinctive quality of our heart and not only to the automatic pattern of past experience. In this way, feeling can be both trustworthy guide and a misleading judge. And distinguishing one from the other is walking a fine line.

One wise person said: “The first thought is that of God”. And I go with that. The first feeling that comes in fraction of second, before any rational analysis is processed, is the one I trust as being closest to my heart. Anything which comes later, has been analyzed, judged and labeled by intricate pattern of mind, which is a very fine thing, but a constructed one. For the latter, putting yourself in the position of observer, giving yourself the right to doubt, to look in silence, instead of identifying yourself with whatever feelings are pouring out of you and thus making them your reality, might be a healthy practice towards equanimity, the inner peace and out of the circle of ups and downs. To put is simply: it is crucial to understand, that we are not our feelings. Feeling constantly pessimistic does not make us pessimistic person- that is just another label, which has nothing in common with our true nature. What we mostly believe we are is nothing but solidified beliefs of our prevailing feelings. And beliefs, however real they might look will always remain just that- beliefs.

Feelings are ours and thanks God we have them! The outrageous, pitiful, angry, furious and painful as well, because those in particular throw us so far from the loving calm of our real nature, that the opportunity to see through their scheme is much bigger. The chance to realize that not the situation or person, but our reaction to feelings gives them the weight and subsequent impact reflecting in our lives.

Feelings are ours and thanks God we have them! What a wonderful way to feel alive! What an amazing tool of guidance! They are our children and it is up to us if we’ll play with them or they’ll play with us. If we don’t assume the responsibility of our feelings and most of all: of the way we react to them, the chance to open new wounds is very high.

We are not robots and most of us are not at the spiritual level of Buddha either, so we might still get hurt by other people, but by assuming the responsibility for our feelings, we get hurt much less, for shorter period of time and we give ourselves the chance to heal.

Blame is pointing outside of you. If I blame you for what is happening inside of me, not only I am saying that you are in control of my life, but I am also saying that only you possess the right ingredient to repair the damage. Now that is a whole lot of expectations from somebody who you can never totally understand because you don’t live in her/his head, whose secret dreams and desires you have no idea about, whose previous path is a mystery you’ll never reveal.

And that is why, my dear friend, I wish you the courage to be brave and bright enough to stand up and say: “I am the commander of my life and of all that happens in it. You might have inspired a flow of feelings from inside of me, of which not all were pleasant, not all were cheerful, but they were all mine. I let them touch me gently, like fire flames, but I did not let them seed the blame and pain. And thanks to that contact, I learned, I became wiser, and I became stronger. Thank you for this opportunity to grow!”

By taking the responsibility for the way you feel, you are assuming power over your life and your creative power becomes stronger. By putting and end to blaming of others as source of your misery, you are eradicating the self pity and victimhood out of your existence, and that is one feeling you’ll be glad to say good-bye to.

Peace and Love,

Jan

A letter to my creative self

Hello precious,

Let me start my letter by telling you how grateful I am that we are together again. Very very very very grateful and even more than that. I’m the gratefulness exclaimed in the sigh of parched, cracked land tortured by months of draught when the first raindrops of a monsoon kiss it. I’m the gratefulness that an explorer lost in a cave labyrinth experiences at the sight of a light showing him the way out of the cold darkness. I’m the gratefulness of a mother when her child comes back home unharmed after long years of waiting.

I never entirely realized you were a loyal companion of mine, until I lost you. I dimmed your light by my teenage anger and ego hunt, and then buried you deep underground by 5 years of senseless army drill and twisted ideas about myself and the world.

When I finally found my way out of that bad dream, it was like jumping on an empty train, heading to unknown destination and arriving at this familiar train station with many platforms but nobody around. Rays of afternoon light piercing the filter of dust on the tall window panes of arrival hall revealed occasional flicker of pigeons’ wings, adding to the quiet suspense of the moment. I got off the train empty handed, stepped silently on the hard surface of platform, looked around and closed my eyes for a second as the afternoon light blinded me. When I opened them again I noticed a lonely motionless figure standing further away at the same platform, facing me.

Some mysterious urge put my feet into movement. I was walking towards that unknown figure and suddenly I realized that its nature was good, it was friendly. Distance between us was getting smaller, until I could make out the outline of a smile on the stranger’s face. And then I looked him in the eyes and it all came back in the deafening crack of a mountain avalanche triggered by the weight of a single snowflake.

It was you, welcoming me with open arms, and before I knew it, I was hugging you hard and tears were streaming down my face. You squeezed me gently and whispered softly to my ear: “Hush there, hush my dear. You made it out of the dark forest and I’ll make sure that you won’t get lost again.”

True to your words, since that day our paths never parted. Since that glorious day we painted hundreds of tickets to happiness and we just started! There’s so much more to come and sky is the limit!

I wake up and I feel your comforting presence within me. Before I close my eyes at night, my last thoughts of gratitude and veneration go to you, my creative self.

Forever yours,

Jan.

When someone deeply listens to me

When someone deeply listens to me,

I feel that there is a purpose behind what is being said beyond the mere meaning of the words.

When someone deeply listens to me,

I don’t want to waste that gift on senseless chatter,

I want to give back because I am receiving something precious.

When someone deeply listens to me,

I look in her eyes and I smile back.

When someone deeply listens to me,

The desire to be understood fades away, because I realize

That life is not as much about understanding,

as it is about experiencing.

Experiencing something which is coded in our real nature,

But we forgot it when we first opened our eyes.

When someone deeply listens to me,

I want to share more, and talk less.

The destiny of Muffin in hands of Cyborg.

When the Cyborg-Eater shows up in town, not even Crazy Janny can save the poor Muffin.

This is my second video on Youtube. The first one was quite serious and showed some of my professional skills. This one is showing the silly side of me and my brother Tomas. Way too often we take life too seriously. Sometimes it might be useful to take it more from the point of view of Osho, even laugh at the non-seriousness of it all. After all, life is a brief journey with increadible sensations to experience as the unique reason worth incarnating. Sit back, laugh a little or a lot and enjoy your day with all its bliss!

Peace and Love,
Jan

Life is like a punk song.

Life’s like a punk song. This idea sped through my mind while I was painting, listening to NOFX and thinking about email I got from a friend. She spoke about judgments, narrow mindedness and aggressiveness of one unnamed nation. We grew up in the same country, but we do not posses the same nationality.

So while I was painting another crazy snail from my Crazy snails collection, a photon of inspiration hit a synapse in my brain and made it resonate with realization: Life’s like a punk song. Full of truth that we don’t wanna hear! It’s too straight-forward, too noisy, it stings like an unexpected slap over the face.

Why? Because it challenges the multitude of stickers that we put on everything and everybody in order to categorize the world more easily, to digest it without too much thinking, too much wonder. A good punk song wants to peel those stickers off and see the naked true nature of things underneath. And yes, that is scary and challenging, it is also uncomfortable, it’s like an itch on your back you can’t reach.

Challenge people’s beliefs in their cherished stickers and you up for some nasty responses! Nowadays, people are nothing but a huge collection of stickers which they assembled (with generous help of others) to create their vision of themselves. Try to challenge one of them and they’ll fight back teeth and nails!

These labels are every-damn-where! Our beautiful planet became covered by stickers and labels, written in thick black letters, so you got no chance to misread them, and they are really handy if you one of those who like judging of all sorts. If you like to be a good obedient citizen, just stick to the stickers you’re supplied by those who think they got monopoly for Truth, you’ll be just fine. There are loads of institutions which took the sticking of labels as their mission sacrée, governments and such madhouses, but in the end it’s us who validate them and readily stick them on every corner by believing in them.

Just read the label and make a blueprint in your mind, which you’ll later refer to as REALITY. Why? Because The sticker said so! Why would I challenge something so widely accepted? Surely it’s the holiest truth, when masses of people accept it as status quo.

They say all sorts of things these smart-ass stickers. You’re Christian thus you love Jesus who was a good guy thus you must be good too; you’re Muslim thus you are not very popular cause you guys treat your women bad and you burn American flags (isn’t that what western medias like to show?); you are respectful dude cause you studied diligently piles of books full of nonsense about justice and that gave you the cool sticker of a lawyer- now you have an influence over who’s going to jail! You’re not that cool cause you only made it to the post of cleaner of the toilets. You’re rich cause you drive a Porche, you’re poor cause you don’t drive and you don’t have a golden watch, fancy clothes and I phone5. You’re Zen and you know better than others cause you practice yoga. You’ve got right to harass people if you don’t like their face or hairstyle cause some funny institution gave you a badge and power. I’m talented cause I can paint and you’re dumb cause you only speak one language. I’m well spoken and complaisant and if I grease the right wheels and kiss the right behinds I might become politician and decide about other people’s lives, maybe even get the superman sticker of Mr. President and invade a country for profit of corporations who sponsored my campaign, and then get reelected! Great one! Lets prostrate in front of his holiness The sticker!

We need some drastic medicine real fast folks to shake off this epidemic. We need to play some PUNK real loud and show our middle fingers nice and high to all the stickers and have a good laugh at our narrow-mindedness. All together holding hands like children nice and loud, stripping us naked off all that labeled armor that makes us rigid, blind and deprives us of so much beauty, so many amazing revelations. Then we would be able to get a glimpse of real nature of things, see things as they really are, in their unnamed, raw beauty, without immediately shoveling them off to one of the million labeled drawers in our pre-programmed minds. We would be able to marvel again, look at the world with eyes of a child, dance with joy celebrating the mysteries of the things we consider ordinary, things we got bored of, things we take for granted.

Tell me- how can you possibly judge something so powerful, complex and limitless as human being, if you cannot even see the beauty and real nature of a flower? “Oh: flower-nice color-good smell most of times-present for my date-does not speak but fades away-harmeless” said your mind. Hello sticker! Oh flower, I know those! Yeah right. What your lovely eyes really had the luck to see was a flash of manifestation of Universal complexity beyond any rational explanation, the mystery of life and death you can never even come close to understand - a F L O W E R- incredibly amazing constitution of millions of atoms which are somehow mysteriously animated by the same life force as you, constantly changing and singing its life song so sweetly! It has an intricate story of birth and fight with darkness which always ends by a victory to tell, a story of sacrifice for the sake of her children, and a history of generations beyond your imagination. Now how could you judge that? Now how could you even dream of deciding who is going to live and who is going to die? How would you dare doing that, while all you know is Stickers somebody else fabricated for you?? What do you know of what hides behind the four letters LIFE to judge it all the time and even decide who’s got the right to live it and how???

We finally have to realize, that there is no US and THEM constantly pointing good-bad fingers as per the instructions of stickers. We’re all ONE and we’re stuck on the same planet, so we might just as well start using our real potential in the name of our real nature, our indestructible essence, which is pure love, believe it or not, not some profit-making sticker which reeks of lie miles away.

I’d like to dedicate the ending of my punk song to my friend, who gave me this nice sticker. She said I was Czech, assuring me that she can see it in my nature. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not Czech any more than Mr. Politician seeks the well being of people in the first place, oblivious of his own profit. What makes me Czech? A piece of paper with my picture on it that I had to have made so that I could cross borders and get classified in security databases?  My place of birth and “culture” they taught me to follow? What if I burn my passport, cross my legs and sit under the tree and meditate for the rest of my life? Will I still be Czech? Or will I receive a different label?

I am a flow of energy, I am manifestation of beauty of this Universe, I am ray of light and I am much more than the “I”, I am “US”; just passing through this amazing planet seeking ecstasy of all spectrum of feelings and emotions I could possibly feel and live, for one brief moment, with all my sisters and brothers. We are one.

Life’s like a punk song. It’s time to blast it at full volume and wake up from our sticky sticker dream.

Life is like a painting

My first Youtube video, dedicated to my mother Krystina.

Video about my beginnings as professional artist, about my first art studio, about making of a painting from cutting the wood for stretcher bars to stretching and priming of a canvas...and about my mother, who I did not get the chance to thank and tell her how much I love her before she passed away unexpectedly. Big thanks to my mother, my family and all the friends who encouraged me and supported me in my artistic career. Namaste!

What inspires me...

As a kid, I could not answer this question. I was inspired all the time and I did not need to know why. In my teens and early twenties I would give you a confusing answer, because the inspiration channel in me was damaged. Too much fear and ego was in play. Today, I might have a clearer idea about the source of my inspiration. And even though inspiration and creativity is the essential requirement for my job (I am visual artist- painter), deep inside I know that any rational analysis is completely redundant as far as inspiration, creativity and other things you cannot buy with money is concerned.

The source of my inspiration can be described in one word. Booze. No, that was a joke! The right word is Connection. Connection with the source. Connection with the higher self. Connection with Universe, Omniverse, the Divine, connection with whatever you choose to call it, a connection which does not need a name at all. Who cares for names anyway? Not me. All I need to know, and actually not even that, is how it occurs. It can hit me at any time of the day, in any situation, but it has one common denominator. The silence of mind. The less thoughts cloud the mind, the more inspiration and creativity shines through. Have you heard of a term “overworked painting”? Maybe you did. It’s a painting which had a promising potential as a piece of art, but was overworked in the final phase by the artist, who started to analyze too much the brush strokes with his brain, making it look unnatural and forced. And that is exactly what happens when the mind kicks in where it has no place to be. Because painting, same as any truly creative activity is a flow, a river of light, not a mind game. In the moments of the greatest inspiration, I am just an instrument of something which is way bigger than me.

Regardless if it happens when I see the horizon from a mountain top with snowy peaks as far as eye can see, when I walk in pristine nature, when I catch my breath after making love, when I open my eyes after silent meditation, when I wake up after a night of a good sleep or when I have a large sip on the first chilled beer after couple of hours spent by cutting wood for frames- connection always occurs in the absence of chatter of mind. For me, being an artist is being open, being like a blank page, being a channel.

About gains and losses

She’s on his mind again. Random things bring her back to life. This time it was the memory of her touch, the only touch which could soothe his troubled mind and bless the tired wretched being with liberating sleep. Tears are welling up the eyes once again.

Universe has surprising ways to combine the greatest pains with joy. In very tight sequences as if life worked on a swing principle. It makes me think of gains and losses of my life, and how they correlate.

Becoming a Canadian Permanent Resident is a dream coming true. And a big and wild one too. For somebody who left his country just after turning 19 with one way train ticket to the Unknown deep in the pocket, lots of determination and not much money as trip companions, mum’s tears on the platform getting invisible as the train slowly pulls away from the safety net of home territory, making a final and irreversible full stop behind my adolescence; for somebody whose upcoming years will be all about losses and gains, having a place which can be called and feels at least a bit like home, is indeed a big deal.

Dad’s waving arm vanishes long after mum’s crying bright grey-blue eyes. Mine shine with tears as well, but I fight them back. I had no clue back then. No idea how many years will pass and what’s in the store for this foolishly adventurous 19 years old boy. And his mother with eyes she stole from our husky dog.

If there is one thing which can walk out undamaged from physical and mental abuse stretching over such a long period, it is indeed a determined human mind in healthy young body. When your present is so painful, that the thought of next hour is filled with longing for brighter future, tomorrow is a dream and next week, let alone next month, is something so unreal and aloof that you entertain your mind with such fantasies only during the rare moments of solitude, which unfold usually in the silence of night or early morning guard shifts. Yet, when the suffering does not have an end, the illusion of future is the only escape, the only way how to keep your sanity. Time stretches; it lengthens and thins as little piece of butter spread over a mile long baguette, because when you suffer without knowing when it will end, a second lasts an hour, and a week lasts one year. And you know instantly that Einstein was dead right with his relativity.

“Life’s a big game so you gotta play it with big boys”, sings Coolio in my ears as I put these lines down. How matching! I shared endless years with big boys, raving mad big tough boys, some of them bigger than our pitiful life. And when they got outta that game, the outside world caught  up with them and living it was like wearing a shirt made of sand paper. Unbearable. Because their mind lost the ability to flex, to adapt.

And that leads me to mention an important revelation, which dawned on me through pain. An understanding which is always linked to suffering. The relationship between sorrow and joy, the connection between gains and losses. You can read about it hundred times and concur, but until you live it, you’ll never really know. Any hardship is a spring board, a take-off platform, a fertile seeding soil, an opportunity for future joy. Anybody knows that coffee tastes better after a sleepless night, that warm shower feels like heaven after a day spent in freezing wind, what a wonderful flower blossoms in your heart when somebody smiles at you after walking through land of people who don’t smile, what delightful feeling brings the touch of sun on your face after weeks of rain. It makes you appreciate the things you took for granted, it makes you concentrate on your gains and forget your losses.

But what if the hard times don’t last for just few hours? What if they stretch over months and years, like an endless swamp you just can’t find your way out of? What if the suffering is more intense than cold rain, wet shoes or one miserable night? What if you are chained and whipped and given no hope, no love, no understanding? Then you need one more ingredient to make it out unblemished. It is flexibility. The flexibility of mind, the flexibility of choice. You need to lubricate your perception of reality so it can squeeze out of that pain and see it from the position of observer, from outside of the hard-edged cube, which allows you to take a free decision even in the most confined and long lasting circumstances. Flexibility which mollifies your heart so when the axes gash it, it still hurts, but they don’t chip it, they don’t inflict incurable wounds which turn into ugly scars.

So when you’re in pain and all that comes next is more pain, my dear friend, give your beautiful mind that liberating unction, until it becomes so smooth and flexible, that on the day when you walk out of that raging blizzard into a kiss of a sunny spring day, and that day will come, you can walk it upright and with a smile, not crooked and bitter. That flexibility of observer will not make you forget, but it will make you forgive, so that you won’t look over your shoulder and around every corner with worried anticipation of past shadows, but with gratefulness and joy in your heart. On that day you will realize that losses and gains cohabit the same existence, they’re sides of the same coin, and one cannot be fully understood and enjoyed without the other. All you need is enough flexibility in your thumb to flip the coin over.

Nobody could describe it better than Shantaram. I know I spoke way too long already, but let me read what the man who lived and wrote the greatest story of last century has to say about pain and choices. Haven’t read Shantaram yet? You better do it. This master piece will open your eyes, and it will open your heart.

“IT TOOK ME a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”

Which place on my travels I liked the most?

This is a very special place. Actually not that special, but somehow it became special since we visit it so rarely. To make myself clear- Yes, each of us has been to that place before. Some of us just a moment ago, others can barely remember it; a still photograph fading in the museum of past.

Considering that this place I talk about is all there is and ever will be, it is somewhat amusing that we escape it with such a blind and stubborn determination, and sadly so, quite effectively. 

Being somewhere else than at The only place worth being at turned into something so omnipresent that it beats the ass of all other made up covers of our real nature, even the heavy weight champs such as  religion, self-pity or desire for fame, power and money. 

Yet, the place I am talking about is not just The only worthwhile place to be at, it is also breathtakingly beautiful. It contains all the colors, shapes, sounds and smells, constantly changing in a blink of an eye like a diamond cut to million faces which came alive with ray of light. It encompasses all the emotions and feelings you can imagine and even those you can’t.

You can find this place anywhere. At the top of Mt.Everest and in the dirtiest ditches of Jakarta suburbs. In the song of pristine Amazonian jungle and in the noise of LAX airport. Anywhere. But you can only find it in one specific moment.

One very magic and ordinary moment in which death and birth hold hands.

It takes lot of efforts, practice and unlearning to stay in that place for some time, and much more to live there, but this ever changing place is all you will ever have, from your first to last breath, so it is worth the sweat, believe me. All else is just an illusion, all else is madness.

This place is here and now. HERE and NOW. Nowhere else.