Karin Dimitrovova

Words by a privileged human whose only suffering last year was a broken heart

It taught me that things are not black and white. They consist of myriad of colorful strings, some woven together, some ending nowhere, but all just scrambled in a big old mess that would take me years of delicate work to untangle.

Things are beautiful, rich and complex and trying to grasp them with thoughts and words doesn’t always work in their favor. The same way you can’t keep the intensity of a color if you dilute it with water.

It taught me that in the hurt, right there, in the middle of it, lies a pulsing heart, the very essence of life. And as much as it was hard to feel, it made me feel alive. And that’s where the beauty is.

It taught me that most of the times it’s just about perspective. I am the one choosing if it makes me happy or unhappy. If I choose to see it as a struggle or be grateful for the learning. Mostly, I am choosing the struggle, my autopilot that still...

I don’t care about wild experiences.
I don’t care about exploring new cities and getting to know other cultures.
I don’t care about castles, beaches and new coffee shops.
It’s nice but it’s just fluff.
My brain mostly doesn’t remember these.
I don’t remember facts, I remember feelings.
I don’t care where the feelings arise.
Sometimes it is on top of a mountain hill with a spectacular view but lots of times it’s in a coziness of my room.
It is when sitting behind a guy on a bike riding the familiar road.
It is when staring into his eyes when being wrapped around in a warm blanket.
It is when I’m working and he’s just patiently stroking my legs in a café.
It is when I walk next to the ocean during sunset hour.
It is during a vulnerable conversation with a friend.
It is when reading a book that speaks to my soul at 2AM.
It is when looking out the window watching the snow.
It is when looking at myself in the mirror realizing how much I changed and how much I appreciate this life that has been given to me.
It is.
It is everywhere.
I don’t have to travel far to feel it.
It is just here.

The craziest thing I have done last year

I knew from the very first moment I saw him that this is going to be interesting. And trouble. I think deep down you always know. You just sometimes choose not to see it in the moment. I knew I am going to fall for this person so deep I will need hands of plenty to drag me out of that muddy river. I remember laying next to him in a tree house, talking, all at the very beginning and feeling an overwhelming sadness. I knew what’s coming. The story was written even before it started. I knew the ending. Actually, I have read all of the messy pages. Up until the one where I’m laying on the floor crying.

And I did it anyway.

The craziest thing I did was to give up all of my control of the outcome. Accepting it’s not in my hands. And maybe not even in his hands. Allowing to happen whatever is supposed to happen.

Not stopping the car even though it was getting closer and closer towards a cliff.

I rolled up my...

Give me my patch back!

The very idea—to feel the pain, to just sit with the pain.
Unbearable.
No, he is not ready to get the wound exposed again.
He slaps a cheap plaster over it.
The one that catches dirt under its edges.
The one that is unable to endure his dips in salty waters.
It starts to peel away.

Bottle of wine, chocolate chip cookies, weed, a girl that smiles at him by the bar.
The cycle starts again.
Even though he knows, because the voice from deep within whispers, that air is the biggest healer.

Flickering in the store’s artificial lighting, he finds the one, a silver coated bandage in a form of a sweet smile, sparkly eyes, honest tongue and sensitive touch. The one that can not only protect him from external forces and a few moments of despair, but one that also heals—those parts he could have not accessed by himself.

His wound is getting smaller by the day as if he is becoming whole again. But he’s too young to...

I am not happy and I have nothing to blame it on

I have zero real problems. I have a job. I am healthy. My family and friends are doing okay. I am not tied to my desk, quite the opposite, I can literally just pack a bag and go anywhere. Actually I am typing this from Las Palmas, Gran Canaria, living five minutes away from the ocean. Money is alright. I can be quite funny. I am pretty. I also have some bright, smarty pants moments. I have no goals that seem unachievable. Yet this life is still proving to be damn hard.

Now you're probably thinking: You white privileged bitch, come and try to live my life.

I get it.

Although, I am thinking: Shitty jobs, poor health, unsatisfying relationships or whatever the cause of the unhappiness might be. How much of these problems are we actually causing ourselves? And on what level do we actually want to have these in our life? Why are we staying if it doesn't feel nice? How can we be blind to an...

Live your life as though you’re on the verge of death. Because you are

I think about death quite often these days. And before you begin getting scared about my sanity, hear me out.

Isn’t it funny how we as a society suppressed and demonized the only real fact we actually have about this life? We are all going to die. Yet we managed to turn it into something you’re not supposed to talk about (at least not without a deeply saddened look on your face).

Just to be super blunt here - thought of death scares the shit out of me. When I was little, I would often have this feeling of being dead when I went to sleep. It wasn’t a dream, no, it usually crept up on me right before I went to La La Land. The feeling of total and utter emptiness, being hollow. Everything ending. I’m not me anymore. Am I there? I can still remember all of that very vividly.

I’m telling you this just so you know that thinking about death is not easy for me. But boy, is it...

Co se stane, když to všechno z toho zavřeného šuplíku vyhážete na zem

„Udělat věc, které se bojíme, je první krok k úspěchu.“

Dříve mi z podobných citátů bývalo nevolno. V duchu jsem se ušklíbala, protáčela oči a ostatní, kteří si je vylepovali na svou facebookovou zeď, jsem nechápala a postupně člověk po člověku odepisovala z mé listiny přátel. Moje první maska a taková ta moje pomocná berlička k životu - ironie, seznamte se.

Kdyby byl život, jádro všeho, postava, řekla bych, že má sakra špatný smysl pro humor. Za ten svůj krátký život jsem totiž zatím poznala, že kdykoliv je mi něco proti srsti, něco nechápu, odsuzuji a snažím se tomu vyhnout, tak se mi to v nějaké formě vrátí. V jiném světle, v jiné době, v jiném mentálním rozpoložení. A dost často se stane, že já sama se pak proměním ve člověka, nad kterým bych před nedávnem jenom kroutila hlavou. Vtipné, že? Takže se teď pravidelně oddávám meditaci, učím jógu, svěřuji se o životě a jo, i ten citát mi dost...

Get off your spiritual high horse, yogis

I came to yoga at first because I loved the movement, I loved the flexibility, the strength and how the practice looked. I would say that this is true for many practitioners nowadays. I got lured in for the shell, yet stayed for something else. Once you get past the physical, you realize the practice is really about your core, the soul if you wish, covered under all the layers you have built. Once you get past the physical and shift to your breath, the light bulb finally lights up. And you get it.

The deepness of the practice is naturally there, as it is within you. I didn’t find it in the spiritual words of the teachers, I didn’t find it in chanting or deep meditation. I found it simply in myself. By just showing up daily, on and off the mat.

I feel many teachers and long practitioners tend to forget their beginnings. I’m hearing too much of “there’s nothing spiritual about that person’s practice” or even teachers...

Ah, da labels, huh

A friend just wrote me a message in which she’s applauding me for being able to turn my life completely around. Coming from a fashion industry and turning myself into whatever I am right now. Probably a person living closer to what is true in the moment? That's how I would describe myself, but others might have different ideas, for sure.

And here we are, the labels, our map we often get caught up in. Labels are so easy, they are so comforting, so secure. You know what you can expect, what you're getting, how to react when you hear "I'm a fashion designer, yoga teacher, vegan,.." or whatever else. Don't you just love showing only this tiny little neat package with a bow splattered right on top? Because I did. And sometimes still do. I want to hide the messiness, the craziness, basically the very core of me that has no idea what is doing. So I went and presented a put together power point presentation instead. Guidelines included, so it's easy...

Mám prsa a zadek. A co jako?

Mám prsa a zadek. Taková ty prsa a takový ten zadek, které tak snadno neschováte do oversize trika a boyfriend džínů. I kdybych se snažila o sebevětší hladovku, tak tam ten zadek a prsa záhadným způsobem pořád budou. Když jsem byla mladší, ale zároveň už dost stará na to, že mi začaly různé tvary růst, snažila jsem se jich okamžitě zbavit a začala jsem milovat oversize oblečení. Dělala jsem to tak nějak podvědomě, zhubnout se stejně snažil každý druhý, a moc jsem tomu nepřikládala význam.

Teď už trochu více rozumím té logice, která předtím byla jen pocit: "Prostě na mě nečum." Byla to snaha vyhnout se nežádoucí pozornosti a nevystupovat z řady.

Je těžké tohle téma rozebírat s někým, kdo to nezažil. Většinou to jsou naprosto přirozeně muži. „Vždyť je fajn mít tolik pozornosti, ne?“ a „Proč to vůbec řešíš?“ patří mezi jedny z mých nejoblíbenějších otázek. Oh, dear… To, že na mě někdo křičí, píská a posílá vzdušné polibky se mi někdy...

Fully experiencing neither pain nor pleasure, we live fragmented, disconnected lives

“It is well known that as a culture we seek to avoid and deny pain, even the remotest discomfort. Narcotizing drugs, escapist technology, pharmaceutical painkillers, and ubiquitous distractions fragment and deaden our experience of life. When we have a headache we reach for the aspirin, when we have heartburn, for the antacid; when we have a worry or a sadness, we reach for the pleasant fantasy or memory. Thus we never fully integrate the effects of our actions with the actions themselves. There is a word for the unintegrated effects of actions: karma.

What is less well known is that we avoid the full experience of pleasure as well as pain. Fully experienced, even small pleasures can be very intense. Often celebration is an escape from this intensity, a moving on. Next time you feel that delicious pride of accomplishment, try just being with that. Very quickly the mind...

I chose to feel. And now I feel. Is it good or bad?

I have always enjoyed stories of lives well lived. Books filled with craziness, deep love, moments of laughter, holding together by strings of suffering weaved throughout it all.

The stories spoke to me and I knew that there's going to come a time when I will be living my own. But not now, no. Now I was sheltered in the arms of my boyfriend, curled up on a couch in the safety of our home. Enjoying the cuddles, the comfort. Sharing my life with a partner whom I deeply loved, but. But.

I can tell you about how I missed holding hands, how I missed meaningful yet tender strokes, staring into each other's eyes just cause, sharing our thoughts and deepest desires. But. Those would be lies. Because at first, with no thoughts formed yet, it was just a feeling. That's where it all starts.

When the water starts simmering, it doesn't take long until it gets to full on boil. And somewhere on that short line...

Emotions and feelings as our wisest guides

I tend to get pissed off when people around me are playing it small. When they’re just stagnating in their nice little safety net. When they don’t realize their worth.

I just wrote this message today to someone who holds a special place in my heart:

“You not walking away from this means you’re not sure of your worth. You deserve someone that will love you wholeheartedly with everything you have to offer. And you fucking deserve that. And if you have this deep sense of knowing what you deserve, you wouldn’t have to think twice here. Because the expectations would just not match up. And it should, it really should. Sorry, just had to put it out there. Because I know it’s hard sometimes. And I hope it lifts you up.”

As you can see, the message in itself is quite emotional. I came to understand that emotions and feelings are in fact big teachers in this thing called life. They tend to show you the place of your...

You are alive ever changing mystery

I first heard this expression on a Bliss and Grit podcast (that you definitely have to check out if you haven't done so already) and I found it just perfect. The fact that we are never stagnating, always changing. The idea that how much we allow to change comes down to how stuck we are in the concept that is us.

I feel like once you come to terms with the fact that you and everything around you is always changing, life gets just easier. Once we admit that we change with literally every heartbeat, every breath, every minute that has passed and once we allow the change to take place, oh boy, magic happens.

Let me give you a super easy and short example of how I struggle with change and how it's actually playing against me. I'm that kind of person that finds comfort in going inward, I call it my safe hermit mood. Sometimes I tend to fall down deeper than I would want to and I tend to stay. Call it melancholy,...

Living the mind

The constant mind chatter, the never stopping analyzing, the dissecting. Aren’t you exhausted? 'Cause I am.

I guess we could all agree that the way we are and how we behave is very much influenced by the experiences we have gone through and all the social conditioning that goes with just living the life. Taking that into account, I personally do not believe that it means that those past events need to be analyzed. I believe you can consciously choose not to do that and still “win”. Still get over it and be happy.

This statement is coming from someone who has spent more than a decade thinking, trying to figure stuff out and looking for answers. Oh yeah, hi, me! Only to come to a realization that it literally doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whose fault it was, who was the victim or the abuser, whose idea was that or what your mom thinks of all this. Other people might have been involved in the event that changed you but these people see what...