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To the margin of a winter solstice

To the margin of a winter solstice

Today is 21st December. Winter solstice. Everyone is opening their hearts, lighting the candles, thinking through the old year, planning the new one. At the end of the day we will welcome the longest night of the year to bring even more light into the world from the following morning.

There are days when only the endless darkness exists within. The doubts, the fears, the unanswered questions mudding the sea of the thoughts. The expectations wanted to get fulfilled – even unconsciously. Sometimes there is comparison – myself, my life, where I am on my life path. Sometimes it seems the ornaments of the learned patterns are engraved hopelessly deeply. The little mermaid just floating, floating in the ocean of despair.

And there are days when there is nothing else but the silence. The breath. The sip of hot cacao as it is crawling through the throat. The sweet air as it is expanding the lungs. This is it. This is what I have. This is me. This hot sensation. This bite of air. But all these are for a quick moment only. As the next exhale takes everything away.

Someone is sitting here and writing these words – she was shaped by places, people, events. I am a monument. Proof of a past. Moments swept away by time.

In the city which was a home one day, the streets have new names, there are new shops, old buildings disappeared. The name of the city is the same, but THE city who made me to myself, does not exist anymore, does not exist anywhere – only within me.

As that people neither – who shaped the me who I am today. The name, the body is the same. But the person I met, who shared my steps, who exchanged thoughts and feelings only exists within me, nowhere else in this universe.

From tomorrow the darkness of the night slowly fades away. More light enters into our life. The little mermaid swims into the shore, shake it off her glittering scales and starts to dance. Because today is the day of celebration, gratitude and thanks. For everything and everyone ever stepped into my chalk circle. And since that moment they are with me, within me forever to build, to destroy, to shape. Within me until the last moment of my existence.

(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)

Egy napfordulo margojara

December 21-e van. Teli napfordulo. Mindenki unneplobe oltozteti a lelket, fenyeket gyújt, osszegez es terveket gyart. A nap vegen a leghosszabb ejszaka koszont rank, hogy atadja helyet a novekvo vilagossagnak.

Van, mikor a vegtelen sotetseg letezik csak ott bent. A ketsegek, a felelmek, a megvalaszolatlan kerdesek teszik zavarossa a gondolat-tengert. Az elvarasok, mik fele ohatatlan is ott a megfelelni vagyas. Neha hasonlitok – magam, az eletem, ahol tartok. A tanult mintak sordisze olykor levakarhatatlannak tunik. Uszik a kis hableany, uszik a ketsegbeeses vegtelen oceanjaban.

Maskor meg van a csend. A lelegzet. A korty forro kakao ahogy kuszik vegig a torkon. Az edes levego tagitja a tüdőt. Ennyi van. Ennyim van. Ennyi vagyok. Ez a forro erzes. Ez a falat levego. De ez is csak egy pillanatra, mert mar ki is lelegeztem.

Ul itt valaki, aki irja ezeket a sorokat. Formaltak tajak, emberek, esemenyek. Emlekmu vagyok. Multbizonyitek. Lepergett pillanatok.

A varosban, mi egykor az otthon volt, atneveztek az utcakat, uj boltok nyiltak, epuletek tuntek el. A nev egyezik, de AZ a varos, ami engem magamma tett, rajtam kivul mashol nem letezik.

Ahogy azok az emberek sem, akik azza tettek, aki ma vagyok. A nev, a test ugyanaz, de akivel en talalkoztam, aki mellettem lepdelt, hozzam beszelt, mar csak bennem el, sehol mashol.

Holnapol az ej sotetje enyhul. A napfenyes orak hosszabbak lesznek. A kis hableany majd kiuszik a partra, lecsatolja a pikkelyes rokolyat. Es tancol. Mert unnep van, hala, koszonet. Mindennek es mindenkinek, aki valaha belepett a kretakorombe. Es azota is itt van velem, bennem, epitve, rombolva, formalva, alakitva. Bennem önnön letezesem vegso pontjaig.

Like the raindrops…



Like the raindrops…


Raining. I’m sitting in an old, unfinished building on a cocoa bean bucket. Gazing the hill’s brand new  cloud-dresses. Listening the fall of the drops from the floor above. After a while I start to follow the dripping noise. My eye is on the drops. They disappear in a crack on the concrete. I need some time to realize what I see – that there might be connection between the existence of the crack and the landing drops. Rain by rain, day by day, year by year the constant presence of the soft, gentle drops creates something what the ‘here-and-now’ only would be able to reproduce by a strong, violent machine.

I remember how many times I wanted to deal with things and situations ‘here-and-now’. Quickly, immediately, impatiently. Instant life. Violent ‘hammer-drill’ me instead of the soft, patient, gentle raindrops.

One day the building might collapse. This could be something dramatic with tremendous noise, dust, smell of destruction. Or it could be a long, soft falling, melting into the minutes, silent faint into the nothingness.

We are always in a constant rush. What for? Where? Where the need, the urge is coming from to do something, be somewhere, be someone? Where the ‘I have no time’ was born? Where we lost the enjoyment of tasting the minutes, the ability to be open to the presence of this very moment? When did I gave the key of the bliss, the love of my life into others hand?

…or just leave the question. Does not matter anymore. As I am the one who can stop at any time this crazy, rushing chariot. I can leave it and walk instead. To feel the earth under my feet, to feel as the mud is squeezed through between my toes, the velvety touch of the moss-dressed stones. I can uncover the invisible bug-life, witnessing the perfectly sketched map of their dreams. I can be drunk from the blossoming fragrances. With every step. In every second. Slowly, softly, gently. Like the raindrops.


(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)


Mint az esocseppek…


Esik. Egy oreg, befejezetlen betonepulet ad menedeket. Ulok egy kakaobab-gyujto vodron. Bamulom a felhobe fulo hegyeket. Hallgatom, ahogy a felsobb emeleten felgyulemlett viz a kozelemben pattan a betonra. Egy ido utan elkezdem kovetni a zajt. Nezem a cseppeket. A cseppek egyenesen egy repedesben landolnak. Ido kell, mig konstatalom, a cseppek es a padlon huzodo repedes kozt osszefugges lehet. Esore eso, napra nap, evre ev a puha, finom cseppek kitarto munkaja olyat hoz letre, amit az ‘itt-es-most’ csak eros, eroszakos gepekkel tudna reprodukalni.

Hanyszor akartam ‘itt-es-most’ elintezni dolgokat, megvaltozatani helyzeteket! Gyorsan, azonnal, turelmetlenul. Instant elet. Eroszakos ‘utvefuro-en’ a finom, turelmes, puha esocsepp helyett.

Az epulet majd osszedol egy nap. Ez lehet dramai omlas, robaj, por, pusztitas-szag. Vagy lehet hosszu, lagy hullas, percekbe olvadas, csendes nemletbe ajulas.

Mire fel a rohanas? Honnan a surgetes? A ‘nem erek ra’? Hova lett a percek izlelgetese, a pillanat ajandeka ovatos bontogatasanak kepessege? Mikor adtam ki a kezembol az eletem elvezetenek, szeretetenek kulcsat?

Mindegy is. A jo, hogy barmikor megallithatom ezt az orulten rohano szekeret. Kiszallhatok, es folytathatom gyalog az utam. Erezve talpam alatt a foldet, a labujjaim kozt utat toro sarat, a ko mohakabatjanak barsonyat. Szemugyre vehetem a legaprobb bogar-eletet, a lathatatlan vonalak pontosan bogozott terkepet. Belebodulhatok a szirmukat bontogato illatokba. Lepesrol lepesre. Percrol percre. Lassan, puhan, finoman. Mint az esocseppek.


Waiting for my soul


Waiting for my soul

Fourteen years ago, when I started my life in London I was working in cafes.  I felt desperately trapped because I felt I can do more and I waste my life with mindless coffee making.

Later I became a yoga teacher. I count myself the luckiest person as I was teaching classes in amazing gyms and in the best yoga studio in London after five years of my graduation. This was (is) the job made me satisfied. I loved it. When I was teaching I felt free, full of life. I had no pain, no problem any more even I had to hold my broken pieces together before the class. I dissolved in the teaching. …and gradually the ‘ME’ became equal to my ‘PROFESSION’. My life was about nothing else but my job. After the class I went home and… the ‘I’ never arrived into the flat. When I was not teaching I had no points to relate to anymore. I was empty. I was no one. The ‘I’ disappeared.

The distance between my public and private persona became so enormous I felt I cheat on people who thinks I always the same – strong, balanced, peaceful, calm – person who I am when I do teach. And I felt I will get crazy bouncing between these two worlds.

I decided to leave my loved job behind to find the ‘ME’ who is happy just because she exists. Who does not overdo to prove she worth the attention, love…, life. Who KNOWS in her every cells she is loved and she deserves the best company and she feels comfortable being in this company – herself. Who KNOWS, FEELS, LIVES the truth: that life is a magic.

Once I bumped into a short video. People in all age range had been asked about what do they want to change on themselves. Some of the adult wanted to loose some weight, some of them wanted to be taller/shorter, more black or more white. The children had been a bit puzzled. They did not really understand why should they change anything? After a short thinking they wished to have pointy ear like a fairy has, bigger teeth, like a shark. A sweet little chubby girl with red hair said – I do not want to change anything.

I was wondering, where is the turning point. When do we start to see certain parts of ourselves as impossible to love? When did we break the love agreement with ourselves first? When we abandoned ourselves, put the first masks on and crave for the company of others to prove we still worth to exist as we are?

I live in the jungle. I have a top bunkbed to sleep shaped by many people before me in a shared dorm. I have three food per day. I have some clothes fit into a suitcase. Serving food and coffee. I sit long hours next to the river. Gazing the water, the trees, the hills. Just gazing. I have no aim but finding the lost me. Being able to say YES to myself again. To believe I am enough. I am worthy. I do not have to DO to deserve.

Morning. Standing in the river. Inhaling the smell of the river. Feeling the numbing cold on my skin, the tamed strength of the current on my ankles. Watching the ecstatic dance of the moskitos above the surface. I am not more for this river than this piece of wood just bumped into my ankle. No more than the leaf was falling from this tree right now. I am no one. There is no me. No names. No positions. Not even clothes in a suitcase. Only surrender. Humbleness. Nothing. Everything.

The Indians said if you feel tired you might walked too fast. Better just to sit down and wait for your spirit to arrive. I’m standing in the river. Waiting. Waiting for my spirit to arrive.


(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)



Tizennegy evvel ezelott, londoni eletem hajnalan kavezokban dolgoztam. Elkeseredetten ultem onnon csapdamban, mert erzetem, a kavekeszitesnel tobbre vagyok kepes, hogy csak vesztegetem ertekes eletem.

Kesobb joga tanarra lettem. Az legszerencsesebbek egyikenek tartom magam, hogy a masfel eves trening utan ot evvel mar London legnagyobb joga studiojaban tanithattam. Ez volt (es ma is az) az a munka, ami boldogga tett. Imadtam. Amikor tanitottam, szabadnak ereztem magam, elonek. Fajdalom, problema nem letezett tobbe ha tanitottam, meg ha apro darabjaimbol kellett is osszeraknom magam ora elott. Feloldodtam a tanitasban. … es fokozatosan az ‘EN’ egyet jelentett a ‘MUNKA’-val. Az eletem masrol sem szolt, mint a munkamrol. Hanem aztan elindultam haza, es… soha nem ertem haza. Amikor nem tanitottam, nem volt tobbe mihez kepest leteznem. Ures voltam. Senki. Az ‘EN’ eltunt.

A szakadek a nyilvanos es a magan enem kozott olyan vegtelenne tagult, hogy azt ereztem, csalok. Hogy becsapom azokat, akik azt hiszik, en mindig az vagyok, akit akkor latnak, amikor tanitok – egy eros, kiegyensulyozott, bekes, nyugodt letezo. Es lassan kezdett felorolni a ket vilag kozti koteltanc.

Szeretett munkam magam mogott hagyva elindultam megkeresni azt az ‘EN’-t, aki attol elegedett, hogy letezik. Aki nem nem akar kenyszeresen tobbet es tobbet tenni, csak hogy bizonysagot nyerjen, erdemes a figyelemre, a szeretetre… az eletre. Aki minden sejtjevel TUDJA, jar neki a szeretet, megredemli a legjobb tarsasagot, es jol erzi magat ebben a tarsasagban – onmagaeban. Aki TUDJA, ERZI, ELI az igazsagot: az elet csoda.

Egyszer egy rodid videora bukkantam. Mindefele eletkoru embereket kerdeztek, mit valtoztatnanak a kulsejukon. Nehany felnott le akart adni par kilot, volt aki magasabb/alacsonyabb szerett volna lenni, vagy sotetebb/vilagosabb. A gyerekek kicsit zavarban voltak. Nem igazan ertettek, miert kellene barmit megvaltoztatni. Vegul rovid toprengest kovetoen arra jutottak, hogy jo lenne egy hegyes ful, mint a tundereknek, vagy nagyobb fogak, mint a capanak. Egy pici, voros haju,  kerek lanyka gondor mosollyal kozolte, o jo ugy, ahogy van.

Azon toprengtem, hol lehet a fordulopont? Mikor kezdunk el ugy tekinteni egyes reszeinkre, amiket lehetetlenseg szeretni? Mikor ‘hagyjuk el’ magunkat eloszor? Mikor kerul fel az elso maszk, ami mogott ucsorogve remeljuk betoppanni azt a masikat, aki bebizonyitja nekunk, szerethetok vagyunk?

A dzsungelben elek. Egy hat fos halo egyik emeletes agyanak tetejen alszom, mit elottem ottalvok testei formaztak. Napi haromszor kapok enni. Van egy borondnyi ruham. Etelt es kavet szolgalok fel. Hosszu orakat ulok a folyo sziklain. Nezem a rohano vizet, a fakat, a hegyeket. Csak nezek. Minden egyeb cel nelkul, mint ratalalni az elveszett EN-re. Hogy kepes legyek IGEN-t mondani magamra. Hogy elhiggyem, eleg vagyok. Erdemes. Hogy nem kell folyton TENNEM, hogy kierdemeljem.

  Reggel van. Allok a folyoban. Belelegzem a folyo illatat. Erzem boromon a viz zsibbaszto  hideget, az aramlas szelid nogatasat a bokamon. Nezem a szunyogok orult tancat a viz felett. Nem vagyok tobb e folyonak, mint ez a faag, ami epp a bokamnak utkozott. Nem tobb, mint ez a level, ami idepottyant. Senki vagyok. Nincs EN. Nincs nev. Pozicio. Meg a ruhak a borondben sem leteznek. Csak megadas. Alazat. Semmi. Minden.

Az indianok azt mondjak, ha faradt vagy, lehet, tul gyorsan haladtal. Jobban teszed ha leulsz, es megvarod, mig megerkezik a lelked. Allok a folyoban. Varom a lelkem. Varom, hogy megerkezzen.


Informal report about a Maya fire ceremony

The candle is burning…

Yes, there are moments when I feel I am the luckiest person of this universe. For instance when in the middle of the jungle I am standing around a huge fire with the local Maya descendants, participating in a fire ceremony, my mind just stops working as it is not able to process the fact I am originated literally from the other part of the globe from a sleepy, small town of the flattest, most boring part of Hungary. (It is my own personal Kansas.) And that it is nothing else than a miracle that something guided me here from there.

I sneaked out to a fire ceremony with a friend in the time of corona virus. Officially after 5pm no one were allowed to leave their house. The rule breaker risked to get arrested. I thought as all local people will be there (might be the police person himself) there is no way not to be present for us. Worst case scenario I will spend some time with a whole Maya community in a jail. Even better.

People have been standing around the huge fire behind the local church. ‘Inglesia Catolica’ written on the facade. In the spot of the hesitantly placed wood cross a huge fire blazes. Even hundreds of years are not able to erase a thousands year old tradition. Nothing and no one is able to cut out that seed from the hearth of the people which gives them hope, fate, which helps them to live their life. Yes, it is possible to build a church during the day, but night time the walls will collapse and the fire became the ruler.

Children, adults, older people, people are not even able to stand climbed up to the top of the hill to be together this night to offer the ceremony for the ending of the virus, opening the nearby national park that creates income for the locals, to get healed, to give a birth for healthy baby and so forth.

Two men are dancing around the fire to the sound of the marimba which trickling down from the hill, filling up the valley, the river bank, colouring the sleeping darkness between the trees of the jungle. One of the dancing men gave me a piece of wood. I beset the piece of wood. I’m wondering what it should symbolise when it will be my turn to throw it into the fire?

I do watch people. On some of their face I tend to recognize the features of certain person from my life before Guatemala. They are not surprised by my presence though I am everything but similar to them. I do fit. There is space for me. They invite me to the first row to really see what is happening. It is hard to concentrate on my thoughts. I am lost in what surrounds me in the very moment.

Everyone gazes the fire. The shapes formed by the fire burned into my retina – the crazy twists, spirals, the gorging tongues as they are licking the dark nothing. The black smoke is scorching. Tears are running.

People are throwing their own piece of woods, their candles – tiny flames – into the giant bonfire. All the flames are merging. Or they have never been separated? The big fire will not be bigger or more. The small ones will not get lost. They never existed. The huge fire was pinned onto the tip of the candles. Fire-butterflies.

I’m walking around the fire. My soul follows the rhythm of the marimba. Now or never. Quickly, quickly, what do I want to get burned from my life? I do scan through my life. I feel endless gratitude for every moment I have behind me. I can forget myself that for a long time I was not able to fall in love with my life. Or just loved it far too much? Finally I throw the little piece of wood into the lunatic arms of the fire with everything it symbolises.

Ten o’clock in the night. We are walking home in the soaking dark through the jungle. My flip-flop gave up already on the first 100 meter when we left our home on the way towards the ceremony. The rainy season just recently started. I feel the mud squeezing through between my toes. Pachamama a bit slippery under my feet but at the end of the day she is there. Always. The thread leads us home is the babble of the river. The fire ecstatic pictures still hanging on the wall of my retinas. My lungs are overwhelmed by the smell of the flowers.

I do breathe. I breath my life in – through my roots from the Earth. Through my skin from the scorching of the fire. The cups of my pores get gently filled up with the drizzling rain. I feel peace. Harmony. There is nothing to burn. The ME like that has lost its sense. There is no ME. My life stories are just mirages. The ME is just the little piece of the universe found its home in my body.

The candle is burning…

(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)

Eg a gyertya…

Igen, vannak pillanatok, amikor az univerzum legszerencsesebb emberekent letezem szemelyes adatnyilvantartasomban. Peldaul mikor a dzsungel kozepen maja leszarmazottakkal allok egy hatalmas tabortuz korul, tuz szertartason veve reszt, az agyam nemes egyszeruseggel kikapcsol, mert nem kepes feldolgozni a tenyt, hogy lenyegeben a foldgolyo masik felerol erkeztem, egy almos kis telepulesrol, hazam egyik leglaposabb, legunalmasabb sarkabol. (Az en szemelyes Kansas-em). Ez semmi mas mint csoda, hogy onnan valami ide vezerelt.

A tuz ceremoniara lenyegeben kiloptuk magunkat egy baratommal a korona lezarasok idejen. Hivatalosan delutan ot utan senki nem hagyhatta el az otthonat. A szabalyszegesert borton jar. Azon toprengtem, hogy valoszinu minden helyi ember ott lesz (talan maga a rendorseg kepviseloje is). Akkor pedig nem letezik, hogy pont en ne legyek ott. Legrosszabb esetben egy egesz maja kozosseggel mulatom idom a bortonben. Kivanni sem kivanhatnek egyebet.

Az emberek korbealljak a hatalmas tabortuzet a helyi templom mogott. ‘Angol Katolikus’, hirdeti a homlokzat. A ‘mintha csak veletlen’ leszurt fakereszt helyen most hatalmas tuz lobog. Hiaba evek szazai, evezredes tradicio nem radirozhato ki. Senki es semmi nem tudja az emberek szive melyerol kiirtani azt ami hitet ad, ami elni segit.  Lehet nappal templomot epiteni barmilyen isten neveben, de mikor leszall az ej, a falak leomlanak es fellobog az osi tuz.

Gyerekek, felnottek, idosebb felnottek, jarni szinte keptelenek mind felkapaszkodtak a hegy tetejere, hogy egyuttesen ajanljak fel e ceremoniat, kerve a virus jarvany veget, a kozeli nemzeti park ujboli megnyitasat, ami tobbseguk beveteli forrasa, vagy gyogyulasert, egeszseges gyermek szuleteseert fohaszkodjanak.

Ket ferfi tancol a tuz korul a marimba dallamara, mi lecsorog a hegyrol, megtolti a volgyet, a folyo medret, a dzsungel fai kozt szuszogo ejjeli sotetet. Az egyik tancolo ferfi egy fadarabot nyujt felem. Szorongatom a fadarabkat. Mit kepviselve vessem majd a langok koze, ha rajtam a sor?

Nezem az embereket. Nemelyikuk arcan felismerni velem otthoni ismeroseim vonasait. Nem utkoznek meg jelenletemen, holott minden vagyok, csak hasonlo nem. Elferek. Van hely. Az elso sorba tessekelnek, hogy lassam, mi tortenik. Nehez a gondolataimra koncentralni. Elveszek a tortenesekben ott kint.

Mindenki a tuzet bamulja. A tuz agai-bogai a retinamba egnek. Bele az orult csavarok, spiralok, a sotet semmit nyaldoso moho nyelvek.  A ferfiak arcan folyik az izzadtsag. Perzsel a fekete fust. Folyik a konny.

Dobaljak az emberek a maguk fadarabkait, gyertyait – apro langokat a hatalmas tabortuzbe. A langok egybekelnek. Vagy soha nem is voltak kulon? A nagy tuz nem lesz nagyobb, tobb. A picik nem vesznek el. Mert nem is voltak soha. A vegtelen nagy tuz volt mindig, gyertyak hegyere tuzve. Tuzpillangok.

Setalok korbe a tuz korul. A marimba ritmusara ring a lelkem. Most vagy soha. Hamar-hamar, mit is egetnek el? Vegigporgetem az eletem. Vegtelen halat erzek minden pillanatert, ami mogottem van. Most meg azt is megbocsatom magamnak, hogy oly sok even at nem birtam beleszeretni az eletembe? Vagy tulsagosan is szerettem? Vegul a tuz bomlott karjaiba vetem a fadarabkat, s mindent, amit kepvisel.

Este tiz van. Csurom sotetben setalunk hazafele keresztul a dzsungelen. A papucsom meg indulaskor feladta az elso szaz meteren. Esos evszakot irunk. Labujjaim kozt preseli at magat a sar. Foldanya picit csuszos alattam, de vegulis van, ott van, stabilan. A folyo csobogasa a fonal, ami menten haladunk. A tuz rajzolta orult kepek meg ott csungenek retinam falaim. Tudom csurig a viragok ragacsos illataval.

Lelegzem. Beszivom az eletet. A gyokereimen at a foldbol. Boromon at a tuz perzselesebol. Porusaim kelyheit a szitalo esocseppek finoman toltik szinultig. Beke van. Harmonia. Nincs mit elegetni. Az EN mint olyan elveszitette ertelmet. Nincs EN. A torteneteim csak delibabok. Az EN csak a nagy mindenseg egy a testembe szakadt picinyke darabja.

Eg a gyertya…

Where to find safety in an unsafe world?

– Where to find safety in an unsafe world? –

The only thing I love in the winter that it’s getting dark early so when I sit on the bus I can peak into others home. I love to watch what is happening in others ‘aquarium’. Every window is a new set. I imagine I live their life – I sit on their sofa, watching their TV, eating their dinner, wearing their clothes.

After I arrive into my own aquarium I know inside out. Into my home. Into the only place on this world I can be naked – in every sense. Into the place where without thinking I can reach my toothpaste. Where the rhythm of the dripping tap is a well-known music. Where I know the length of the time the toilet tank fills up. The screech of the front door. The noise of the hanging plastic decoration as the breeze runs through the kitchen. Where every little corner has the splash of color of me. Where I can lock the door, cocoon myself into my soft, furry blanket and I know I am safe.

I love to loose my hands in the warmth of someone special’s hands. I love the feeling I am safe with this person and when he hugs me I can be lost in this hug, knowing, does not matter what happens in the world around us, because I am safe.

I love to go to sleep with the knowledge there is a reason to wake up next morning because there is a job I love, people are waiting for me, I can support my life – my home, my food, my clothing. I do not need to relay on anyone’s good will. I am free. I am safe.

Have a you ever lost you bank card, travel card, all documents in one go with a dead telephone in your pocket, no cash at all, in the middle of a big city? Standing on the street not knowing what to do, where to go? And no one trust you are not a beggar when you ask some money to go home. We all heard it millions of time from a stranger holding some penny in his/her hand, ‘Just one pound please, I need to pay the train’. Who would trust YOU? Who would trust you are definitely the one who need that pound… No one. All you will have the look makes you feel you are naked in a room of ully clothed people. And no one and nothing is there to put a blanket on your shoulder.

Yes, that day might come (might not)…

…when the very important person walks out of your life.

…when the safe home turns into a cage, a trap where the countless memories in every corner are like little soul-sucking creatures slowly taking your color.

…when you open a letter informing you the loss of your job.

Yes, that day might come when you are floating in the big, dark, cold nothing completely alone and there is no one and nothing to pull you back, to give you warmth.

BUT there IS one safe place in this universe. The place where you are right now.

Just close your eyes. Breath in. Feel the air filling up your body. You are alive. This is the blanket on your shoulder. You have the Earth underneath you – always there to hold you, support you.

Now imagine you are sitting in a bubble. A glowing, shiny bubble. This is the arm hugging you. Warm, caring, safe.

Now open your arms. Open them wide. Lift your face towards the sky and find your smile. Even the most cracked one. And say thank you for the air in your lung, the Earth underneath your bum, and for this shiny, beautiful light bubble around you in this very moment. This is the only thing you have – nothing else. And you are the only one who can bring safety and caring into your life. No one and nothing can give it to you from outside of you.

So as long as you are here, alive, celebrate yourself. Celebrate this moment. And this one. And this. Celebrate your life in this very moment.


(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)

– Hol a biztos pont egy bizonytalan vilagban? –


Az egyetlen dolog, amit szeretek a telben, hogy koran sotetedik, es a buszon ulve bekukucskalhatok masok eletebe. Szeretem figyelni, masok hogyan elik ‘akvarium – eletuket’.  Minden ablak uj izgalom, meglepetes. Elkepzelem, hogy a bent elok eletet elem – en ulok a kanapejukon, nezem a TV-juket, eszem a vacsorajukat, es viselem az elnyutt treningnacit.

Aztan hazaerkezem az en kis akvariumomba, aminek minden szegletet ismerem. Az en otthonomba. Az egyetlen helyre, ahol lemeztelenedhetek – minden tekintetben. A helyre, ahol gondolkodas nelkul nyulok a fogkremert. Ahol ismeros zene a csap csepegesenek ritmusa. Tudom mennyi ido alatt tolt ujra a WC tartaly. Tudom az ajto nyikorgasat. A csillogo terelvalaszto fuggony csillingeleset, mikor a huzat keresztulrohan a konyhan. Ahol minden aldott sarok az en eletemmel van telemazolva. Ahol bezarhatom az ajtot, es a puha, szoros takaroba babozodva tudom, itt biztonsagban vagyok.

Szeretem az erzest, mikor a kezem elvesz egy szamomra kulonleges ember tenyereben. Szeretem az erzest, hogy biztonsagban vagyok ezzel az emberrel. Hogy mikor megolel, a vilag gond nelkul osszeomolhatna korottunk. Mert ebben az olelesben tudom, biztonsagban vagyok.

Szeretek nyugovora terni a tudattal, hogy van okom reggel kinyitni a szemeim, mert van munkam, olyan munkam, amit szeretek, ahol szamitanak ram, ami segit eletet teremteni – lesz belole otthonom, etelem, ruham. Hogy senki joindulatatol nem fuggok. Hogy szabad vagyok. Biztonsagban vagyok.

Veszitetted el valaha a bankkartyad, a berleted, minden papirod egyszerre lemerult telefonnal es nulla keszpenzzel a zsebedben egy hatalmas varos kellos kozepen? Alltal mar az utcan halvany sejtes nelkul, hogy most hogyan es hova tovabb? Mikor senki nem hitte el, nem szelhamos penzcsalo vagy, mikor aprot kertel hazamenni. Mert mi mind millioszor hallottuk idegenektol, kik par fillert mutogattak tenyerukon, hogy ‘De csak 100 forint kene a vonatra!’. Miert biznanak az emberek eppen benned? Ki fogja elhinni, hogy TE valoban csak haza szeretnel jutni? Senki… Csak a megveto tekintetek, csak a lehunyt pillak, csak az erzes, hogy puceran allsz egy emberekkel teli terem kellos kozepen, ahol senki es semmi nincs, aki egy takarot teritene a valladra.

Igen, az a nap talan eljon (talan nem)…

… amikor az a nagyon kulonleges ember kisetal az eletedbol.

… amikor a biztonsagot nyujto otthon csapda lesz csupan, hol a millio emlek mint elet-ragcsalo lenyek bujnak minden sarokban, fekete-feherre mazolva szinektol vibralo eleted.

… amikor a felnyitott levelbol nem mas pottyan ki, mint egy jo kover felmondas.


Igen, eljohet az a nap, mikor csak lebegsz a nagy, sotet, hideg semmiben, tokeletesen egyedul, es senki es semmi nincs, aki visszarantana, aki meleget tekerne kored.

AZONBAN VAN egy valoban biztonsagos hely ebben a mindensegben. AZ a hely, ahol eppen most letezel.

Csak hunyd be szemed. Csak erezd, ahogy a levego megtolti a tested. Eletben vagy. Ez a takaro a valladon. Erezd a Foldet alattad – mindig ott van, mindig megtart.

Most kepzeld el, hogy egy buborekban ulsz. Egy fenyes, ragyogo buborekban. Meleg, ovo, biztonsagos.

Tard ki a karjaid. Szelesre, mint aki olelni keszul. Mutasd az egre az arcod, es guberalj ossze nemi mosolyt. Nem baj, ha kicsit poros, csikorgo. Es koszond meg a levegot a tudodben, a FOLDet a feneked alatt, es ezt a ragyogo, fenyes buborekot korotted – ebben az egy pillanatban. Mert ennyi, amid van. Semmi mas. Es te vagy az egyetlen, aki biztonsagot, meleget teremthet az eletedbe. Senki es semmi mas rajtad kivul allo ezt soha meg nem adhatja.

Szoval amig itt vagy, amig elsz, unnepeld magad. Unnepeld ezt a pillanatot. Es ezt. Meg ezt. Unnepeld az eleted – ebben az egy pillanatban.



As above, so below, as within, so without…

For the spine mobilizing flow check my YOUTUBE channel

“As above, so below, as within, so without”…


For a long time I was living in a big city. Stores on every corner 24/7 open. Selling everything you can imagine regardless of the season. When I started to work in a hotel in the jungle, at the beginning I felt uncomfortable when we had no items the menu offered. ‘We run out of wine, sorry. Maybe a week or so.’, ‘No fresh orange juice, sorry, no orange season. ‘

One morning I was in charge to open the restaurant of the hotel. I stepped into the empty kitchen. Dozens and dozens of eggs were piled in the middle of the huge kitchen table. And for a moment I felt there is something wrong with this picture front of me.

When I was a child my grandma had some chicken. If they gave us eggs we had omelette for breakfast. If not, no omelette. We had jam on the bread instead. When I have seen this huge pile of eggs, not the picture of freely running, happy chickens popped into my mind. But the ones who were born and were put into a cage just big enough for their bodies, their feet cramped to catch the bars underneath until they died or stopped producing eggs. Chicken who never seen sunshine, never touched the earth with their feet, never smell the wind, never ate fresh grass. I have seen misery and suffering on the table. An altered version of the menu appeared in my mind: ‘Suffering with spinach’, ‘Scrambled misery’, ‘Or do you prefer the fried version? No worries! We happy to offer!’

I used to have an office job. I was not able to get rid of the picture from my head during the whole time I worked there: I’m a chicken in the ‘chicken-factory’. Are you an evening person? Forget it. You have to wake up early to go to work. Are you a woman, you have your period and just want to curl under your duvet? Forget it! Put your make-up on, you have an important meeting today! Do you have your baby and want to stay with her/him to see his/her growing and enjoy the moment with her/him? Forget it! Hire a kid from abroad to spend the precious time with your baby as long as you sit front of a computer making money for someone already has a lot and to pay this stranger at home looking after your kid. Do you want to enjoy the sunshine? Forget it! Take your jumper on as in your office you will sit in a 21 degree-airconditioned room for 9 hours even there is 30 degree outside brightened up with sunshine-imitating, super-eco light bulbs.

In the nature there is time for strawberries. There is time for apple. Time for sowing the seed. Time for harvest. Time to work and time to rest. In our civilized human life every time is time for everything. No respect for natural cycles. No respect for nature. No respect for ourselves. Since Hermes Trismegistus we know:

“As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul…”

There is no difference between how we treat plants, animals and how we treat ourselves. Are we worried because of the Earth? … Lots of human has cancer. Uncurable illnesses around and the doctors just shrug their shoulders. Many people depressed. Mental illness in every household. Substance abuse is so common if you are not involved you are a weirdo. Overworked, overstressed, exhausted bodies and spirits all around. And “as above, so below”… yes, our planet is exhausted.

Instead of wanting to save the world, might be time to start to think about to save ourselves. No, I am not talking about growing plants on the Mars. But to clean up our own s…t here, on the Earth. Inside of us. In each one of us. One by one. Not to wait for politicians, not to blame wealthy people, no to push responsibility to our neighbors, to the god… to do something. Do it. You. Now. Slow down. Make your own decision. You have a choice. Always have a choice. What is your choice? How DO YOU WANT to live YOUR OWN LIFE?

(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)


“Amint fent ugy lent, amint kint ugy bent.”

Sokaig egy nagyvarosban eltem. Boltok minden sarkon, nyitva 24/7 oraban. Mindig minden kaphato, evszaktol fuggetlen. Amikor egy a dzsungel melyen megbuvo hostelben kezdtem dolgozni, eleinte kellemetlenul erintett, ha nem volt raktaron az, amit a menuben igertunk. “Oh, bocsanat, elfogyott a bor. Talan egy het mulva.’, ‘Nem, nincs friss narancsle. Csak kannas. Nincs szezonja.’

Egy reggel en nyitottam az ettermet. Amikor beleptem az ures konyhaba, tojasok tucatjai tornyosultak a konyha kozepen terpeszkedo konyhaasztalon. Ereztem, valami nagyon nincs rendben ezzel a keppel, amit latok.

Gyerekkoromban nagymamam mini allatkertjeben voltak csirkek is. Ha tojtak tojast, volt rantotta reggelire, ha nem, nem. Ekkor lepett eletbe a barmi mas opcio: lekvaros/zsiros/sos kenyer. Amikor ez a hegynyi tojasmennyiseg ott tornysult elottem, valahogy nem a nagyi szabadon lofralo csirkeinek kepe idezodott fel bennem. De azoke, akiket szuletesuk utan egy ketrecbe zartak. Ketrecbe, mi eppen csak elegendo meretu egy csirkenek. Ketrecbe, amire ragorcsolodtek a kapaszkodo labujjak, azzal a gorccsel, amit csak a halal old.  Csirkek kepe idezodott fel elottem, akik sosem lattak napfenyt, sosem kapirgaltak az elo foldet, sosem borzolta tollukat a szel, sosem csipkedtek friss novenyeket. Szenvedest es fajdalmat lattam az asztalon tornyosulni. Elkepzeltem, mi lenne, ha igy modositanank a menut: “spenotos szenvedes”, vagy “rantotta egzotikus kinokkal fuszerezve… Oh, hogy jobban kedveli a serpenyos verziot?! Semmi problema. Boldogsag, hogy elkeszithetjuk kedvencet.”

Volt ido, hogy irodaban dolgoztam. Csodas uvegepulet, foldig ero ablakokkal. De elso pillanattol fogva keptelen voltam elszakadni a kepzettol, hogy egy csirke vagyok a keltetogepben.

Hogy ejjeli bagoly az alaptermeszeted, a reggel nem a te idoszakod?! Felejtsd el! Reggel koran kell kelned, mert idore kell erkezned az irodaba. Hogy no vagy eppen radkoszono menstruacioval es masra se vagysz, mint begubodzni a dunyhad melyere?! Felejtds el! Fesd fel a napi arcod! Fontos targyalas var rad. Hogy nemreg szuletett babad, es jo lenne otthon lenni vele, latni, ahogy no, valtozik napra nap, elvezni a soha vissza nem tero pillanatokat vele?! Felejtsd el! Alkalmazz egy kulfoldi tinit, maga is gyermek, aki majd elmeseli, hogy amig te masnak termelted a penzt, vagy epp arra kerestel, hogy e kedves idegent kifizesd, hogy tette megy gyermeked az elso lepeseit, hogy keresett teged elso kiejtett szavaival. Sut kint a nap?! Felejtsd el! Tegyel egy extra pulcsit a taskadba, mert var rad a 21 fokosra legkondicionalt iroda, valodi napfeny helyett napfenyt imitalo eco egokkel teve kenyelmesebbe eleted.

A termeszetben ideje van az eper eresenek. Az almanak. Ideje a magvetesnek es az aratasnak. Ideje a munkanak es a pihenesnek. Mai civilizalt vilagunkban mindig ideje van mindennek. Az elet termeszetes ciklusait nem tiszteljuk tobbe. Sajat testunk igenyeit szonyeg ala soporjuk.

Hermész Triszmegisztosz ota tudjuk:

“Amint fent ugy lent, amint kint ugy bent.”

Azaz nem, nincs kulonbseg akkozott, hogyan banunk a termeszettel, az allatokkal, vagy onmagunkkal. Ujabban felemeltuk hangunkat, es aggodunk a Foldert… Minden idoknel tobben szenvednek rakban. Gyogyithatatlan betegsegek utik fel fejuket a semmibol, amire az orvosok csak tanacstalanul megvonjak a vallukat. Milliok depressziosok. Minden haztartasban van legalabb egy mentalis problema. A fuggoseg (alkohol, cigaretta, stb) olyan egyertelmuen letezik, hogy lassan az az urleny, aki nem hasznal semmit. Tulhajszolt, szetstresszelt, kimerult testek es lelkek mindenutt. “Amint fent ugy lent”… nem csak mi, a Fold is kimerult.

Ahelyett, hogy a Foldet akarnank megmenteni, talan ideje onmagunk megmentesere koncentralni. Nem, nem arra gondolok, hogy repuljunk a Marsra novenyt termeszteni. Hanem hogy itt a Foldon elve kezdjunk el szembenezni onmagunkkal, kipucolva a sok felhalmozott szemetet testbol, szivbol, lelekbol. Mi mind. Egyenkent. Kivetel nelkul. Nem politikusokra varva, a tehetos embereket okolva, vagy a szomszedot, az istent… ki mit izlese szerint. Ideje nekunk, egyenenkent tenni a dolgunkat. Te is. En is. Itt es most. Lassabb fokozatba kapcsolni. Tiszta donteseket hozni. Mert a dontes a mienk. Mert van dontesunk. Mindig.

Te hogy dontesz? TE hogy akarod elni a SAJAT eleted?




Realizations on ‘VARRIOR’ theme


Warrior 2For the video about WARRIOR 2 visit my YOUTUBE channel.

Realisations on ‘VARRIOR’ theme


Realisation 1:

I realised we all want to be happy. Avoid hardship, failure, pain. And if we fail – because we have pain, hardship – we feel disappointed. I was there. With the never ending disappointment within – I did everything I could and I am still not happy. For moments – yes:

  • when – after days/weeks of cloudy skies – the sun is out, warming my skin – yes.
  • when I cocoon into a freshly washed bedding – yes.
  • waking up for the smell of freshly made coffee on a lazy morning – yes.
  • watching the peace of a sleeping animal – yes.

But not fully, totally, constantly.

Realisation 2:

NOONE ever promised us constant happiness. Life is not about constant happiness. Life is about learning lessons, to experience things – failure, pain, disappointment… and happiness.

Realisation 3:

Yes, we are all warriors. We all have our own battles. But I choose my own point of view – keeping the eyes on the wounds only, or looking up in the sky. This is our choice. I decided to be a peaceful, smiley warrior. I decided to accept myself as I am, stopped fighting against my thoughts, habits, behaviours – were not approved by others.

Realisation 4:

In the moment I accepted my own battles, accepted that I am a warrior – the battle disappeared, the armour fell down. No warrior any more. No battle exists. Only me with constant happiness. With the feeling you have when you are in love. But I feel this love towards life. Towards beauty and hardship, pain and joy, failure and cracks on the sky where he light gets in.

I do not want to be happy any more. I am happy. With all the aspects of my human existence.


(A magyar valtozat ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)


Felismeresek ‘harcos’ temara


Felismeres 1:

Azt vettem eszre, mi mind boldogok akarunk lenni. Elekerulni a nehezsegeket, bukasokat, fajdalmakat. Es amikor elbukunk – mert a fajdalom, a nehezsegek meg mindig ott vannak – csalodottak vagyunk. Jartam itt. Ismerem a kornyeket. Minden tolem telhetot megtettem, es megsem voltam boldog. Neha, pillanatokra – igen.

  • amikor napok, hetek szurke ege utan vegre erzem a nap meleget a boromon – igen.
  • amikor bevackolok a frissen mosott agynemube – igen.
  • amikor egy lusta reggelen a frissen fozott kave illata ebreszt – igen.
  • amikor egy alvo allat bekes szuszogasat figyelem – igen.

De nem allandoan, teljesen, totalisan.


Felismeres 2:

Soha SENKI nem igert nekunk allando boldogsagot. Az elet nem az allando boldogsagrol szol. A Fold egy tanulobolygo, az elet leckek lancolata, mik soran megtapasztalunk bukast, fajdalmat, csalodast… es boldogsagot.


Felismeres 3:

Igen, mi mind harcosok vagyunk. Mi mind vivjuk sajat kis csatainkat. De EN vagyok az, aki a sajat nezopontomat megvalasztja – a sebeim bamulom megbabonazva, vagy felemelem tekintetem az egre, ahol a felhok eppen resnyire nyilnak egy napcsova elott. EZ kizarolag az EN dontesem. Egy nap ugy dontottem dontottem, bekes, mosolygo harcos akarok lenni. Elhataroztam, hogy elfogadom magam ugy, ahogy vagyok. Hogy nem harcolok a sajat gondolataim, szokasaim, viselkedesi normaim ellen, meg ha hianyzik is roluk masok aldasa.


Felismeres 4:

Abban a pillanatban, amikor beket kotottem sajat kis belso csataimmal, elfogadtam, hogy igen, harcos vagyok… a csatamezo eltunt, lehullott a pancel. Eltunt a harcos. Eltunt a csata. Ami maradt: en es a folytonos boldogsag. Az erzes, amit akkor erzel, mikor szerelmes vagy. De ezt a szerelemet az elet irant ereztem. A szepseg es a nehezsegek, a fajdalmak es a varazslat, a bukasok es minden repedesek irant az egen, miken a nap biztato sugarai attornek.

Mar nem akarok boldog lenni. Az vagyok. Emberi letezesem minden morzsajaban.






“Let the sunshine in”


For the video about OPENING UP THE WHOLE BEING visit my YOUTUBE channel.

“Let the sunshine in”

The whole world is burning in VIRUS-fever. It creates all different situations. We can find ourselves having reactions makes us puzzled. Even we can find ourselves experiencing parallel universes between the kitchen and the dining area. This last happened with me this morning.

I went to the kitchen where one of my fellow volunteer was cooking heart opening hot chocolate from pure cacao to share it with others in the morning yoga class. He was singing, dancing around in the heavenly fragrance of chocolate while cooking. It was a real present from life to be in the kitchen in his presence.

Couple of meters away another person appeared – still in his pijamas – with his mobile phone in his hand, listening the ‘virus news’ on his device. His face was tensed, clouds on his forehead, eyes closed for the beauty of the rising sun, the melting mist around the neck of the hills. I felt his tension when I passed by.

From this heavy energy I escaped back to the kitchen to sing and dance instead – ‘Let the sunshine in’. (

No, we can’t change the world around us. But we can choose how we react. What is your choice?


(A magyar valtozat meg mindig csupan ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)


“Jojj el napfeny”

Az egesz vilag VIRUS-lazban eg. Erdekes helyzeteket teremtve. Talan olykor sajat reakcionk okozza a legnagyobb fejtorest. De lehet, hogy parhuzamos univerzumok nyilnak a konyha es az ebedlo kozti terben. Nos, ma reggel en ez utobbit tapasztalhattam meg.

A hajnali konyhaban egy masik onkentes kavargatta a forro csokit, amit szintiszta kakaobol keszitett szivcsakrat nyitni, a reggeli jogara erkezoknek meglepetesul. Onfeledten tancolt es enekelt a barna illatban. A reggel ajandeka volt belepni az amugy ejszakatol dermedt helyisegbe e korai oran.

Par meterrel odebb egy masik szemely tunt fel – meg pizsamaban – a telefonjat babralva, kutatva a reggel legfrissebb ‘virus – hireit’. Arca feszult, homloka felhos, szemei vakok a kelo nap festette szinpompara, a hegyekrol lassan leolvado kodkontosere. Elhaladva mellette nem lehetett nem ereznem a feszultseget.

Sietve menekultem vissza a konyhaba tancolni es enekelni – ‘Let the sunshine in’. (

Mert a vilagot nem tudjuk megvaltoztatni. De hogy hogy reagalunk, azt egyedul mi dontjuk el. Te hogy dontesz?


… just like a mountain


For the video about TADASANA visit my YOUTUBE channel.


EXTRA mountain meditation by me:

…just like a mountain

I’m sitting in the middle of the jungle. My laptop is on my lap. No, I do not feel I do something blasphemic. I’m in peace with the fact I can do differently. I am balanced.

Blissful state.

Mountains standing around me.  They are just standing unwaveringly. I look up to them. I admire them. I know they have their own secrets, own view, knowledge of life. No tension around. I feel like a little girl sitting next to the ankle of her grandparent listening his/her words. Sometimes only couple of dried words falling front of me. Other times the words like rivers running out of the mouth.

Their ‘face’ looks different every day. On rainy days I can not even see the top of them. The comfort of the cloud-made pillows just slowly melting away. Other days one of its side is hiding in shadows letting the other side to shine. There is no competition. No winner or loser. Sunbeam or cloud fluff drawing the erratic silhouette.

I WANT to upload my video onto YOUTUBE.  I’m squatting at the feet of the hills, more and more frustrated because of the electricity shortage of the last three days. No internet of course. After three days I give up. Gazing the hills with no life in my eyes. And I slowly realise: my WILL is nothing here. It will always bounce back even I exhaust myself to death. Here the NO means NO. I have only one chance: to bow my head, to accept, and let myself to melt into the rhythm of the HERE, the rhythm of THEIRS. My only chance to be like the mountains: to exist as I am and whatever happens around me just respect it, welcome it, and let it go. As mountains need clouds, water, sunshine we need all the experiences in our life. It makes as the person who we are now.  I have only one thing to do: being open, and to trust that all will happen in its own time.

There is no secret.  But inner-peace is here. Balance. I am grounded, routed, strong.


(A magyar valtozat meg mindig csupan ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)


…mint a hegyek

Ulok a dzsungel kozepen, olemben a laptop. Nem, nem erzem szentsegtoresnek. Bekeben vagyok a tennyel, hogy csinalhatnam mashogy is. De jol van igy. Egyensuly van.

Aldott allapot.

Korottem hegyek. Allnak renduletlenul. Felnezek rajuk. Tisztelem oket. Erzem a titkuk, a bolcsesseguk. Nem erzek feszulest. Nyugalom van, beke. Mintha egyik nagyszulom bokaja melle kuporodnek. Hallgatom a megelt elet erlelte szavakat. Neha csak par tomor mondat. Maskor folynak a szavak az elmerengo tekintet atrajzolta arc szajabol.

Minden nap masok. Esos napokon nem is latni a csucsukat. Felhokbe csavarodnak. Van, hogy az egyik oldalt arnyek rejti. Nincs lazongas. Nap vagy kod rajzolja a hullamzo sziluetteket.

Fel akarom tolteni a videom a YOUtube-re. Ulok a helgyek toveben, egyre frusztraltabban, hogy napok ota nincs aram, nincs internet. Harmadnap feladom. Uveges szemekkel nezem fennseges lenyuket, es lassan rajovok, az en kis akarasom itt visszapattan. Itt a nincs az nincs. Itt egy eselyem van: ha fejet hajtok, ha elfogadok, ha beleengedem magam az elet ritmusaba, az ITTENI ritmusaba, az O ritmusukba. Ha olyan leszek, mint ok, a hegyek: letezem a magam valojaban, es barmi tortenik korottem, csak ugy tekintem mind, mint mulo felhot, mint taplalo vizet, mint eletet ado napfenyt. Mindre szukseg van egy kiegyensulyozott elethez. Mind egyutt erlelt azza a szemellye, aki most vagyok. Nekem egy dolgom van csupan: befogadni, es bizni, hogy minden a maga idejeben erkezik.

Nincs titok. Belso beke van. Egyensuly.



Open the heart for gratefulness


For a 12 minutes upper back mobilizing/heart opening practice check in to my YOUTUBE channel. Enjoy!



Recently I noticed that at the end of my practice when I scan through my body I am not only relaxing the certain body parts but I started to have conversation with them. I started to say thank you for them being as they are. I started to see them as they are and being grateful for what I have and to learn how cruel I was with myself for years and years. Basically I was my worst enemy: I criticised, I compared myself. I always felt I have to do more and more to deserve anyone’s attention, love. This self-unacceptance was so natural for me and so deeply engraved within, I did not even realize what I was doing. I had to look into some mirrors to see it.

I am lying on the floor. I am in savasana. Corps pose. A reminder of the fact where we are all heading. I surrender. I listen my breath. Scanning through my body. My alive body.

Instead of wanting to hide it, to change the colour of it, I am grateful to have a thick, long, healthy hair which reminds me to my dad.

Instead of wanting to change the size of it, I say thank you for my nose it works properly and I have something with me all the time reminds me to my mom whenever I look into a mirror.

Instead of wanting to change or erase them, I am grateful for all of the wrinkles, lines, asymmetry on my face. They are the storytellers of all the sweet and hurtful moments of my 44 years.

I say thank you for the discomfort in my throat teaching me to say ‘yes’ when I mean ‘yes’ and ‘no’ when I mean ‘no’.

I am grateful for the pain in my shoulders reminding me whenever I start to carry far too much weight, responsibilities again.

I say thank you for the stiffness in my upper back making clear the smile on my face is not always real yet.

For my lover back pain for offering me the direction and the speed of a more aware life.
For the knee pain making it clear the direction of my life is not always the right one.

I am lying on the floor. Giving space to the moment as it is. To myself in the moment as I am.

I am in savasana. THE END pose. Every end has the seed of a new beginning. I surrender to the new the next moment will bring to me, to the lesson, that “perhaps there is no mistake […]. Perhaps the story the mind has constructed about life is just that, a story, and you are here, whole, prior to all stories. […] Just become more and more real, more and more human, more and more conscious, less and less perfect. More self-aware and willing to feel. […] And to feel more. And more. […] To sometimes not know what the next step is. […] Discovering who we really are. With each day we begin meeting with ourselves more deeply. […] Treat ourselves like the […] most fascinating and beloved creatures.” (Jeff Foster – The joy of true mediation, New Sarum Press, 2019)

Savasana. There is nothing within me but gratefulness, peace and space for growing into the next moment.


(A magyar valtozat meg mindig csupan ekezetek nelkul olvashato.)



Azt fedeztem fel, hogy ujabban a joga gyakorlas vegen, mikor gondolatban vegiglatogatom az osszes testreszem, nem csak ellazitom oket, de egyfajta parbeszedben talalom magam veluk: koszonetet mondva nekik hogy vannak ugy, ahogy. Elkezdtem felfedezni es halas lenni azert, amim van, es megerteni azt, mennyire konyortelen voltam magammmal hosszu eveken keresztul. Tulajdonkeppen en voltam onmagam legadazabb ellensege: kritizaltam, hasonlitottam magam midenhez es mindenkihez aminek a vegen mindig ott volt a kovetkeztetes, meg tobbet es tobbet kell tennem, hogy kierdemeljem masok figyelmet, szeretetet. Ez az ‘onelnemfogadas’ olyan termeszetesen letezett bennem, olyan melyen gyokerezett, hogy eszre se vettem, mit csinalok magammal. Bele kellett neznem par tukorbe, hogy feltunjon.

Fekszem a foldon. Savasana pozban. Halott poz. Emlekezteto, merre tartunk mindannyian, barhol allomasozunk is most az eletben. Nincs bennem akaras. Csak letezem. Hallgatom a lelegzetem. Vegiglatogatom testem zugait. Elo, letezo, lukteto testem.

Es ahelyett, hogy el akarnam rejteni, vagy meg akarnam valtoztatni a szinet, halat erzek hogy dus, hosszu, egeszseges hajjal aldott meg az eg, ami apura emlekeztet.

A merete miatti elegedetlenseg helyett halas vagyok az orromnak, hogy mukodik, s hogy van valamim, ami mindig emlekzetet anyura, barhanyszor a tukorbe nezek.

Ahelyett hogy kisimittatnam, vagy leradiroztatnam arcomrol a rancokat, foltokat, helyreigazittatnam annak asszimmetriajat, orulok hogy leteznek nekem, elmult 44 even minden edes es bus pillanatanak hirmondoikent.

Meghajtom fejem es megkoszonom a torkomban volt gombocoknak, hogy tanitottak ‘igen’-t mondani, amikor annak volt ideje, es ‘nem’-et, mikor annak.

Meghajtom fejem es megkoszonom a fajdalmat a vallamban, mi mindig ott volt, ha figyelmeztetni kellett, ujra tobb sulyt, felelosseget vettem rajuk.

Meghajtom fejem es megkoszonom a lapockaim kozti bedermedt erzest, mi emlekzetet, a mosoly az arcomon neha meg nem kepes a szivem legmelyerol erkezni.

Meghajtom fejem es megkoszonom a fajdalmat a derekamban, hogy utiranyt mutat es lassitasra invital ha annak van ideje.

Meghajtom fejem es megkoszonom a terdeimnek, hogy neha megallasra kenyszeritettek, idot engedve atgondolni, merre legyen a kovetkezo lepes.

Fekszem a foldon. Hagyva a pillanatot alakulni, ahogy alakul. Hagyva magam letezni a pillanatban, ahogy letezem.

Fekszem a foldon savasana pozban. A VEGE poz. Minden vegben ott az uj kezdet apro magja. Megadom magam az ujnak, amitol a kovetkezo pillanat terhes, a megertesnek, hogy “talan nincs is itt hiba […]. Hogy talan a tortenet, amit az elme krealt az eletet illetoen, ennyi csupan: egy tortenet. Hogy a valosag pusztan annyi, hogy letezem a magam teljessegeben, minden tortenetet megelozoen.” Hagyom magam tanulni a lecket, “igazibbnak es igazibbnak lenni, emberebbnek, kevesbe tokeletesnek. Hagyom magam erezni a bennem zakatolo eletet. Hagyom magam erezni. Hagyom erezni. Hagyom… erezni. […] Hagyom neha nem tudni, mi a kovetkez lepes. […] Felfedezni, ki is vagyok valojaban. Hagyni magam napra nap ujra talalkozni az eppen valodi enemmel. […] Ugy banni magammal, mint a legvarazslatosabb, legszeretnivalobb lennyel.” (Jeff Foster – The joy of true mediation, New Sarum Press, 2019)

Savasana. Nincs mas bennem csak hala, beke, es vegtelen hely a csirazo jovonek.