in bed with a camera

a note i fumbled one Friday evening through tears, shortly after a 20 year marriage blew up in my face. it was more of a survival kit actually. goals can draw one back into life and, i instinctivel…

Source: in bed with a camera

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Uzbekistan – A journey back to her origins – Janet Efrati

Images capture a moment in time and sometimes only leave to the imagination the real intent of the photographer when the shutter was pressed. I have long been a strong advocate of using this medium…

Source: Uzbekistan – A journey back to her origins – Janet Efrati

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take your “especially for you” for a walk

Kleine Prinz

there are certain things that triggers bad memories. causes the heart’s beat to miss a step and fall, head lowered in painful reflection and eyes to tear. sometimes, it’s a song. suddenly, it was there, a ring tone on his phone “especially for you” each time she sang, he got up and left in a trance-like hurry. it was as if a superior power had taken over his body and controlled it. like a well trained dog reacting to it’s masters call.

it’s just that, this was not a dog. this was my husband, my love, my friend, father of my child. sometimes, we would be in the middle of a beautiful meal, with friends, even with family. the phone would ring “especially for you”. my heart would pound. embarrassed when he just up and left. it did not take me long to understand it was her.
the divorce came through and the song still brought me down. ruined my whole day, it caused a giant hurt so heavy i could not move forward. so wide i could not see past it.

enough was enough. a song was absolutely not going to dictate to me. it was time to outstare, outhear (there is no such word, it just got created) outsource redundant giants. and so, each day, i intentionally played “especially for you”. faced it. listened to it. went on long beautiful walks in stunning locations and played it. ate delicious meals with it as background music, until eventually, it just became a song that was played over and over during a fun time. i created my own memories and owned that song instead of having it own me.

it was a very simple lesson for me on the path of educatingrosi. never to run away from things that i can take control of. face the giants head on. develop a strategy that might seem ridiculous to others, (of course it does because it’s not their giant), stand still, take aim.

(the picture translated from german: “the time you lost for your rose, is what makes your rose so important”).

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unbrokening me

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aphrodisiacs. a reflection

me with red cap thingy

where the hell is my sex drive. what do other women take to be so ever-ready and frisky. why can’t i too just, with total and utter abandonment, give in with quivering lips and dewy eyes throwing my legs up high to a lover, even if it’s just for a night. someone told me “rather a bit of magic than none at all”. but no, not this little mamma. there is always a small but seemingly (only to me increasingly it feels) important thing. love. no juices flow without love. it’s like somebody put a cork on the bottle and nothing foams. am i going to remain a corked bottle for the rest of my life? slowly that thought is starting to rebound in my mind. the offers and the interested that come are frequent but so young, i feel like they want to sell me a retirement policy when they invite me for coffee. the cutest offer came recently. i young man in a wheel-chair who followed me a couple of roads, i could not outrun a wheel-chair and he was ever so cute but, oh so young. at a stop street he sweetly asked me if i’d like to join him for coffee. visions of me sitting on his lap on the wheelchair flashed through my mind. his bravado was very sexy and his eyes were so beautiful and blue. i would have said yes but i have learned that going for coffee is the start of something (mostly all my troubles have started over an invitation for coffee) and if i do not want that something to start, i simply don’t go.

he is out there. i know it and i feel it. but it’s not yet time for me. the most beautiful thing has been to find that my heart is unbroken. it’s happy, content, curious, excited, adventurous. alive.



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go spread your wings and feel

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losing baggage to reach self love

imagefor me, self love belonged up there with all the cheesy stuff of this world. it was something only people do who walk barefoot and travel to india looking for themselves amongst the incense wearing hemp yoga pants. please don’t get me wrong, i really like cheese so no discrimination against cheese. but i knew how to love everybody else. understood what caring for my “neighbor” meant and how to fan the passions of others. however, there was little personal growth. my own garden was unkept and choking with weeds. why? FEAR and guilt.

fear keeps one average and bland, chokes creativity and is the thief of dare…oh that spice of life. but fear of what? losing people i love if i say or do something they do not approve of (they left anyway), of loneliness (i was lonely anyway waiting for my spouse to come home),  not being a good christian (all those sweaty screaming preachers belting out love for others sermons. i still suffer from yelling-preachers-with-big diamond-rings syndrome). not trusting myself enough to honor my own passions;  fear of mistakes and  comparing myself with others. not grasping that we are all at different stages of the journey. self-loathing; what a waste of time because everywhere i went, there i was. those i so fervently loved have built and nurtured their own lives. how smart. but wait, there is a still small voice i spent a life-time ignoring. step number one to self love:

forgive myself. one big, heavy back-breaking bag less on this journey.

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About me


20130104-011423.jpgSource: About me

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