Date with my heart

Day 2

So I've found it, “The” place. Of course there was no finding of “The” place if I did not find it within myself first. Day 1 was tainted by frustration. Uncompromising slabs of concrete blocked the access to the place where I camped and painted last year. Yet another road to happiness on this Earth appeared closed. I asked a few locals if I could set up my little tent at their huge property and just paint. No need of their facilities, no intrusion of their privacy. The answer was a repeated, “no.” A very definitive, “no.” I began to think, “is it that the more you own, the more you are scared to give, the more you are scared to lose?” Poor people, poor “rich” people! I made a mental note not to ever be like that. I took off not knowing where to go and tried my best to forgive and forget. There's a reason beyond immediate understanding for everything and the purpose is always to help us on our way. There's no doubt that a better place will show up.

I cooked my modest veggie dinner on my tiny gas heater at the dead-end of a school parking zone and walked up a few yards into the bushes where I set up my tent in darkness. The night wasn't peaceful. I dreamt of bears. The many night animals crawling in the dry undergrowth around my tent amplified my unease. I finally drifted to dreamless sleep just as the dawn was breaking.

I woke up tired but I thanked the Lord to be here and now. There were no noisy people around and no traffic in my circumference of perception. What else could I ask for? Maybe a hot Americano! Right. So I packed my tent and drove in the direction of the town. I was happy and one with the moment again. Somehow I knew that I was at the right place at the right time, doing the right thing. After all, I had a date with my heart. Alone. That was the plan. As long as I'd stay true to my intention, things would fall into place.

Without really asking for anything, just sharing my as a part of a friendly customer chat, I received a map of the area from Jake, a coffee shop employee. He highlighted a few spots that he thought might be suitable for my lonely camping stay. And that is how I found “The” place. I realized if I find the peace within, I would find it without.

I am settled in and I tried to do some painting but it's windy now and I can't paint because the canvas keeps falling off the easel by the sudden rushes of air. It doesn't matter, I am naked in the forest and I feel so worry-free! I feel I have no need to accomplish or fake anything. I have an intense feeling of happiness that seems to be just a natural side effect of it.

As I woke up from a nap under the pine trees I find my scarce belongings are scattered around me, rays of sun caress my skin and flies are crawling all over me, tickling me back to awareness. My plan is to go for a swim in a pristine lake of turquoise blue as I need to wash off the paint stains not only from my hands but also from my chest, back and buttocks. Painting can be a little bit of a funny business!

How did I get myself here, some 300 km into the BC interior from Vancouver, with nobody to talk to besides the trees and myself? Simply by a feeling I had. By a feeling so acute and articulated like the sensation of an ant making its way through the bush of my crotch hair right now! I should trim it I guess, but then, nobody is going to explore this area for quite some time, as long as I am true to my decision, so for now I could not care less.

I was going to throw a party at my studio 420. That was my original plan. But then I met Dharia, an enlightened being from a hidden ashram in Himalayas, who happened to be in Vancouver teaching meditation. It was our second meeting. Our first one was a breakthrough for me. It made me think how did someone so egocentric as myself cross paths with somebody so unconditionally loving as Dharia? Our second meeting wasn't any less of a breakthrough than the first one. If someone is ready, the Truth resonates so strongly in his or her core that it cannot be overlooked. Especially when you ask for it so humbly, for the simple reason that you can't look at yourself in the mirror anymore without feeling fake. After the meditation and the message she channeled from my heart, which was very painful but with a trace of hope, I drove her home and I knew that the party wasn't what I was supposed to do. After the meditation I woke up, spent the day painting at my studio, packed at night and left early the following morning. I didn't say anything to anybody.

As soon as I took direction east on Avenue zero, much more slowly than my usual driving speed, peace settled within me. I knew I was doing the right thing. That is how I find myself here, in “The” place, at the right time, having a date with my crying heart.

Day 3

I woke up at 7am after a much more peaceful night and drove to town to grab a coffee and buy some leafy greens for my diet, not forgetting cigarette papers. I was in a rush to get back to my lonely place though. The mandatory interactions with people at the stores felt a bit off place. As soon as I came back to my tent I stripped off all my clothes, rolled up a smoke with the tobacco Radoslav brought me back from India and started reading a Robert Bateman book, high as a kite! I felt my heart beating in my chest very strong. Bateman's words are shining from each page as a window to a different world, way too beautiful for this one. It's so alive and full of Love it makes me wanna cry. Soon after I start devouring another Murakami novel. I finished “Wild sheep chase” yesterday. And it surely did make me cry. The last paragraph was too much. I sobbed like a child when I was first confronted with the finality of life.

Everything around me seems to be in perfect harmony with every inch of the surrounding space. I can't even listen to music. As soon as I put on my headphones I have a feeling that the trees nearby have a story to tell and I could miss it. As I gaze at the forested steep slope on the opposite side of the lake, swaying in the occasional wind, it confirms my feeling. This place has a lot to say for anyone quiet enough to hear it. I take a swig at my vodka drink every now and then. A beetle flies right past my ear making me scared with the powerful buzz of its wings and lands on orange strip of my tent. I look at the patches of white clouds dancing in front of ultramarine blue of the sky and suddenly shout, “Don't be so fucking serious Mr Kasparec!” I let out a fart and fix a coffee on my stove heater. The flies are relentless. They continue dancing happily in the pleasant breeze. “I could learn a lot from them”, I think seriously.

I spent part of the afternoon devouring the second Murakami, “South of the border, West of the sun.” I wanted to read slowly and save the book for later, but it was impossible to put down. I turned the last page in a few hours (at least I think it was a few hours judging by the movement of sun in the sky). Oh my God. If yesterday I cried reading, then today I cried a river. I lay down hopelessly crying with my arms stretched and mouth opened towards the sky. My guts are contracting convulsively with my sobs. So much beauty I felt in surrendering, such much beauty I felt in loss. God, if I am to die, please take me in this very moment, because I have tasted the touch of your unity. I love you Murakami! Please don't die anytime soon, okay? You need to bless us with many more novels!!

I roll up a semi-crippled cigarette and look lazily around. The bitter smoke bit me and I spat. My spit landed on a small tree next to me and I watch it hanging from a branch like a silver thread. The tree doesn't seem to mind. I apologized anyway.

I don't smoke, so weed is out of the question for me. But the pure tobacco leaves without any chemicals get me so high for a moment that I feel realities shifting. As if the ever-present veil of ego-perception lifts and I see things as they really are, without any mind commentary, without any interpretation. And even when it starts talking I know it is not me and I know that it has nothing to do with the real essence of the thing it is describing. I hear the voice, but inside I am still and centered, I watch it speak without judgment, without attachment.

The wind came up again at sunset when I was painting. My canvas fell on me and I got covered in paint again. Even still I could not stop painting though, not just yet. I sat on the ground and continued painting with one hand while holding the canvas with the other. When I finally decided to stop the darkness is already crawling in. I go to the car to refill my bottle with vodka and juice and notice that people who were camping further down at the lake had left. I felt exhilarated to be truly alone. The feeling quickly changes as the wind amplifies and howls intensely in the trees. Dark clouds make the night settle in much faster than I anticipated. Even the mosquitos don't come out. I guess the prospect of my blood wasn't sweet enough to navigate in this weather! Or they are still digesting the dose they got out of my veins yesterday. To be really honest, I am scared. I am scared right now; typing these lines zipped up in my tent with the orchestra of a bewildered forest sucking me into a cacophony of sounds. I feel so alone in the world, but even still a part of me is very happy to be here. I think it will be an intense night. If I could, I would fast forward the upcoming 10 hours until the morning light.

Day 4

To my surprise I managed to get through the night without too much anguish. The wind was shaking my tent and at times I could hear raindrops, but whenever I heard creaking and rustling noises, I concentrated on my breath with all my awareness and with every exhale I repeated in my mind, “I am safe, I am safe.” It worked.

I woke up to a silence so thick I could have dove in it like in an ocean of cold-press organic virgin coconut oil. I relieved my bladder and set up a little fire to warm my feet and hands. I prepare some coffee and pull out the sleeping bag out of the tent. I pass out again, feeling sweetly tired, the kind of tiredness when the mind is not present and every movement is naturally slow and simple. When I open my eyes I can see the aura around the pine trees against the cloudy sky very clearly. Suddenly I feel the urge to listen to Ricardo Montaner's song “Yo que te ame”. I am singing out loud along with him and remembering the good times in Argentina with Hugo. Alone, naked, and free! It feels so blissful and unpretentious, pure joy in my heart. If there were any bears before, they would be gone by now.

I hike down the steep descent to the lake, sliding at places, until I reach the shore. I am already naked so all I have to do is take off my shoes and dive in. This is the first time I would swim across to the other side. I wash off a layer of bird crap from a flat stone and sit on it. The kingdom of seaweed under the water’s surface seems even more abundant and mysterious on this far side. My shoes are but a blurry blue spot on the opposite side. I swim back laughing with pleasure at times. Swimming in unknown deep waters naked always gives me this feeling of apprehension. “What's going on bellow me?” Is something watching me pass by and deciding how to react to my intrusion? What if some big fish bites off my weenie? Do girls ever have this kind of idea? Probably not.

I crawl back on the unstable rocky bank. I am shivering. I shave and I brush my teeth. It's weird how such a simple act of hygiene can make you feel better. I sit there for a long while, enjoying the rays of sun on my drying body. I focus my vision to under the water. So much life, so much life everywhere. Unfolding on its own, totally independent of what we think is worthwhile, of our interpretation of our purpose and importance. If I disappeared right here, the world would not skip a beat. It would continue unfolding with all its drama, with all its beauty.

I’m not thinking of what I am going to do today, not even in 5 or 10 minutes. The fullness of the moment seems to be all there is right now.

I climb back up, naked, to my campsite and sprawl purposefully on the blanket. An undetermined amount of time passes. All of a sudden a hydroplane flies right above me, still fairly high enough though. Yet as soon as it fades into the distance it slips from my mind. But then it comes back from the opposite direction, this time roaring with magnificence as it approaches the surface of the lake. It makes me jump up from my lazy daydreaming and prepare lunch. Wow, it could have landed on me a while ago. The pilot might have used my white bum as a good landmark, I ponder humorously.

All of my meals are the same. Yet each time they taste more delicious. I throw diced onion into coconut oil and fry it golden brown before adding pre-cooked brown rice. I add turmeric and salt and stir-fry. And just before I kill the flame, I add whole pile of raw spinach and lettuce, so they stay green and crunchy. Once served, I add some fresh avocado and of course a lot of cayenne pepper goes without saying. I can’t wait to eat this delicious abundance and have it make love in my stomach. I touch my hands and utter a silent “Itadaki mas” before touching this gift of God. Japan sure did leave some good traces in me!

I spend the afternoon painting the view of the cliff and lake. A family of three walks up on me from the trail behind my back. I wave at them happily and tell them that I'm naked but that it's totally fine with me if they pass by. Somehow they end up being more embarrassed than me and made a point of not even looking in my direction. People are a funny species!

If last evening and night was Yang then today is Yin. The air is so still the lake seems to be made of mercury, a motionless mirror faithfully reflecting the image above it.

I've seen many dramatic sunset skies in my life, but to me tonight's sky seems out of this world. Stunning! Large patches of creamy orange colors combined with stylish lace of white outlined clouds. So that is the life behind the dream of life. Perpetually changing yet constant.

I take a puff on my artisan mini smoke. I can hear the roaring of the bloodstream in my arteries. The body runs on its own without a hint of worry about the confused soul occupying it.

Mosquitoes are truly fierce tonight. As if they are trying to make up for yesterday's public holiday (in the mosquito calendar, of course). I decided to hide in the safety of my tent and wait for sleep to come.

Day 5

I decide to leave today. The timing is perfect, as it starts to get cold. I can feel the upcoming shift in weather. As soon as the decision was made, my mind clings to it and my mood changes. It's much harder to be present again. All the ideas and prospects of what I'm going to do once I'm back kick in. “At least I am aware of the illusory trap,” I think.

So what have I learned from this trip, from my date with myself so to speak, was it worth coming?

Every step on the journey is worth it, or so it seems. And I am very very happy that I made it, that I came so far to be alone with myself in silence.

I realized that I am not who I am trying to be most of the time. I realized what a burden I've been dragging on my back all my life by trying to fulfill the roles that I play, in order to look good, be accepted, be admired, be loved. I was playing these roles without ever really loving myself first fully. This is the false idea of grandeur. So much energy spent in the effort of sustaining it that there was none left to see the slightest glimpse of the true grandeur of Universe, which I now realize more clearly than ever I am part of.

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!