Care of Souls – The Way of Creation

One Big Not

2026-08-29T00:00:00Z

Everyone who has tried to quit smoking knows the deal: after the exam, after the problem at work is solved, after the holidays. Bella uses it as the picture for something bigger – the NOT that stands in front of almost every wish. Not enough money, not enough time, not the right moment, not sure I can. Give it power, she says, and what is left is not a life but a not-quite-life.

Her way out is small and unglamorous: start with the little wishes and do them, and the big ones come within reach on their own. There will never be a good time – that part is honest, and it matches what When Fear Returns says about the mechanism underneath: fear needs something to feed on, and what feeds it is wanting things to be a certain way before you begin. Her second observation is just as useful. The people telling you it won't work are handing you their own fears; the one who tried and made it usually cheers you on.

Don't listen to anyone but yourself, she closes, and do what you love even if it's very scary – later you will thank yourself. That is the compass of this site in her words: fear does not mean not yours. Often it means yours, and it asks for the leap.

There will always be a NOT
Those who ever quit smoking, or wanted to, remember that moment when you thought: I'll pass the exam and then quit, or I'll sort out the problem at work and then quit, and so on. There are a great many situations like that. And if you stick to that strategy, you will never quit smoking.
But of course, as I hope you've understood, I didn't want to talk about cigarettes. How often do we want to start something and can't, because of this NOT? Not enough money, not enough resources, not enough time, not the right time, not sure I can. One big NOT. In the moment I got so tired of it – because if you give power to this NOT, there won't be a life either. It will always be a NOT-quite-life.
But if you want something, don't put it off. Start with small wishes and do them, and you won't notice how you arrive at the big ones.
There will never be a good time for anything – this NOT will always be there. So send this NOT off to the sky to fetch a star, and start doing )
And yes, there will always be someone who says: what do you need that for, you won't manage, it's not your thing, and so on. BUT that's them shifting THEIR fears onto you, and it has NOTHING to do with you. It's like the well-worn saying that a successful singer will always support a beginner, while the one who wanted to but got scared will put you down: who do you think you are, nothing will come of it, and so on.
Don't listen to anyone but yourself. And do what you like and what feels right in your soul. Even if it's very scary – later you'll say thank you to yourself.

His Toy

2026-08-28T00:00:00Z

A visit to family. A six-year-old who has been sharing all afternoon: toys handed over, a cardboard house built for the baby. Then her daughter reaches for his swim ring and he says no. Everyone who grew up with "don't be greedy, share" knows the reflex that comes next: the sigh, the nudge, the little lecture. Bella skips it. It's his thing, and he has the right to show where his line is.

Her test is the car. A stranger wants to "play" with your car, you say no, and your mother calls you greedy and tells you to hand over the keys. Nobody would accept that – yet we teach children to give away everything they have. A Place to Go calls such rules limitation: fences we did not build, absorbed so long ago we forgot they were not our own – and judgment, the habit of labeling that keeps everyone in a small box, a boy with a swim ring included. Bella steps over both in one afternoon, with a smile and no drama.

And she takes something home: she will respect her daughter's boundaries the same way and not force her to share. A no that is allowed to exist at six is much easier to say later.

Give me back my toy!
Not long ago we were visiting my husband's sister. She has a six-year-old son. He's a very kind boy: he played with Sara, gave her toys, built her a house out of cardboard, and so on. But in the moment when she wanted to touch his inflatable swim ring, he said: "No." Sara, at her age, doesn't really understand the word "no" yet, so I simply took her aside. And here you could think: what a greedy kid, can't he let an eight-month-old girl touch a toy? But no. I took it with a smile and complete calm. Yes, he's only six. But it's his thing, and he has every right to show us his boundaries.
And how often in childhood did we hear that you have to share, that being greedy is bad, and so on.
But let's imagine a situation: another man walks up to your car and wants to "play" with it. You say: "No, that's my car, you can't." And then your mother or your wife says to you: "What, are you greedy or something? Give the man your car." Would you like that? I don't think so. So why do we teach children to give away everything they have? To share when they don't feel like it? We don't do that ourselves.
That's why I took the boy's request calmly, and noted for myself that in the future I'll respect Sara's boundaries in the same way and won't force her to share everything.

A Little Spark

2026-08-27T00:00:00Z

Bella's weight has gone from 50 to 82 to 66 in a few years, so she has bought more wardrobes than most of us. Scrolling the style feeds one day, she asks the question they never answer: what is my style, actually? The answer she finds in her own closet is two. Rhinestones on the face, loud eyeshadow, bags nobody understands – and next to them plain jeans, a white T-shirt, a comfortable tracksuit to hide in.

She names it lightly, as a split personality, but what she describes is a rhythm. One part of her is on the wave: writing, making, wanting to be seen. The other is the stillness between waves, when she does nothing and dresses to disappear. Surfing the Ocean of Truth says the same about creating: a wave carries you, then it returns to the ocean and merges with the stillness of the whole – and both belong to the ride. Wanting to hide for a while is not the absence of style. It is the other half of it.

Her closing is the whole point: accept yourself. When it feels like you have "no style" and "no spark", look closer. Everyone carries a small spark that is nobody else's.

Because my weight has gone from 50 to 82 and back to 66 over the last few years, I'm changing my wardrobe more often than ever. And right now, scrolling the banned social network, all you see is: style, how to style this, and so on. Everyone's all fashion-profashion. And it got me thinking: what is my style, actually?
Turns out my wardrobe has a bit of a bipolar thing going on. May everyone with that diagnosis forgive me. But I really do have a split personality. I love bright things, unusual ones, sticking rhinestones on my face, weird bright eyeshadow, bags nobody understands, and so on. But at the same time I love basic jeans with a white T-shirt and a blazer, a calm tracksuit, and so on. Surprisingly, there are two personalities in me: one is on the wave, creating, coming up with things, loving bright colors and standing out – and then there's the wave of stillness, when I don't write, don't make anything, put on whatever is comfortable and, most importantly, whatever lets me "hide".
So that's how I found out, by accident, that I have a double style. The main thing is that I can combine it all and choose to suit my mood.
How important it is – to accept yourself. Sometimes, when it feels like we have "no style" or "no spark", it's worth looking closely, studying yourself, and you'll find something of your own, something unique. We all seem alike, but each of us has our own little spark that sets us apart )

How to Boil Potatoes

2026-08-27T00:00:00Z

Bella asks her friends how to boil new potatoes and laughs at herself before anyone else can. She hates cooking – the recipes, the shopping, the stove, the cleaning up afterwards – and most of the post is a list of what she can't be bothered with, told without a gram of apology. It's funny. And then, near the end, it turns.

Her mother was raised on a sentence in capital letters: A WOMAN MUST BE A GOOD WIFE AND HOUSEWIFE. The Blind Spot describes how early we learn which parts of ourselves earn love and which don't – and how the rest of life goes into climbing that list. Bella's answer is neither to become the good housewife nor to fight her. She takes the part of her that hates the kitchen and gives it a plain right to exist: she likes doing laundry, she likes scrubbing the bath, cooking is not hers, and she isn't embarrassed to say so.

That is the whole spiritual content of a potato post, and it is enough. Be yourself, and if something isn't yours – don't do it.

How do you boil potatoes?
When we were teenagers, a story went around in my friend's circle about a girl they knew who decided to make fried eggs for the first time in her life and, so it went, just put the eggs in the pan without cracking them and waited for them to turn into fried eggs on their own. We laughed about it for ages and kept bringing that story up.
But today I pulled off roughly the same thing, and I looked at that situation completely differently. Let's start with the fact that I hate cooking. I don't like looking up recipes, buying groceries, standing at the stove and then cleaning all of it up afterwards. I can make a little sandwich, a little salad, boil pasta – the very basics, so to speak. And what doesn't interest me, I don't really remember. For instance, I rarely cook buckwheat, and every time I google when to put it in: cold water or boiling. And so today I decided to boil new potatoes for the first time and asked my friends how to cook them. I'm 100% sure they had a laugh, and honestly I cracked up at myself too. But I don't like cooking, it's not my thing – though the mood does come sometimes, and then I can boil potatoes and throw fish fingers in the oven.
And even more than cooking, I hate cleaning the kitchen. Those leftover bits of food in the sink, the dishcloth that, even when it's new, always stinks, so that afterwards your hands stink too and you have to wash them twice and put cream on. I can't help it, but the whole kitchen thing – it's just not me. And thank God I have my husband, who cleans the kitchen every single time. And has never once held it against me.
But, by the way, back when I wanted to get married by any means, I went on to everyone about how I cook and clean. Thank God I didn't get married back then – it would have been the disappointment of the century.
And how is this post connected to spirituality? Easily. My mum was raised on the idea that A WOMAN MUST BE A GOOD WIFE AND HOUSEWIFE. She's one of those who washes, cooks, does the laundry, works and sleeps all at the same time – and if guests are coming, as you've already guessed, she'll scrub the whole house on top of that, or else they'll say: "Bad housewife." Me, I've accepted that this is how I am: I love doing laundry, cleaning the bath, but cooking is not my thing, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Be yourself, and if something isn't yours – don't do it. Refuse, and enjoy it.

Tomorrow I'm 35

2026-08-25T00:00:00Z

She turns 35 tomorrow, and the post she gives herself is the whole road at once – including the parts she was ashamed to say out loud until now. The drinking years, being convenient for everybody, the belief that love could be caught and held by technique, and one wish written into every New Year and every birthday: LOVE.

The riddle in the middle is the one every book waved past her: love yourself first, don't search, it comes on its own – but how the hell do you actually do that? How do you stop wanting the thing you want most? Her answer wasn't an insight; it was a floor: either now, or I slide. Then the practices, the setbacks, the changed circle, the universe's test arriving as one more copy of the old script – and the two words that broke it: no, enough. Examples of Letting Go or Choosing collects situations with exactly this shape – the moment you have to tell which one is true: keep striving, or set it down. Her wanting of love was released not because it stopped mattering, but because holding it had become the obstacle. The no was the choosing.

She walks into 35 with no celebration planned, no expectations, no wishes – and calls it absolute happiness. The one wish finally came true by being set down.

Tomorrow I turn 35. And I am absolutely happy. But it wasn't always like this.
On the whole, until 30 I didn't really understand what was happening in my life. I drank my own self away, did wild things while drunk, died of hangover in the morning, burned with shame and blamed everyone around me. I didn't love myself inside or out, didn't know who I wanted to be, let everyone humiliate me and use me, and was, on the whole, convenient for everybody. And of course, the cherry on the cake – I thought that with sex I could make a man fall in love and marry me. I dreamed of getting married, badly wanted love, and simply devoured men. And honestly, for a long time I was too embarrassed to write this here, to say it out loud. But now the words are coming out of me on their own.
So, back to our sheep – or rather, to the former me. As I wrote above, life wasn't sweet, but I can't complain either – there were many wonderful moments. But there was no happiness. And every New Year and every birthday I made one wish – LOVE. I truly waited for it from a man, but after all the practices I understood that first it has to be in me, and then it will come from outside. I had read it in every book: "Love yourself first", "Don't search, it will come on its own" – but I could not understand how the hell you actually do that. How do you stop wanting the thing you want most in the world? And what surprised me even more: why, if you really want a car, you're supposed to want it and strive for it – but if you want love, it's exactly the other way around?
And in the moment I understood that my life was going in a circle: half a year at a job – then a change; a couple of months of dating – then that's it, booze + stupid decisions. The finale was a run in my underwear in front of bloggers' cameras. That's when I understood: that's it, we've arrived. Either now, or I slide all the way down. And that's how I came to the practices. At first everything seemed strange, charlatan-ish, silly, uninteresting. In the moment it was hard; there were setbacks and new waves. But gradually I began to change, the people around me changed, then the universe sent me a little test: yet another guy, the same script – and I said: "NO, ENOUGH." And, as I've already told you, right after that I met my husband – to whom, by the way, I also said no 😆 But that story I'll tell a little later.
So that's how I arrived at the point where I am now. With a loving, caring husband, my sweet bun of a daughter, in Switzerland. Absolutely happy, planning no celebration at all, with no expectations and no wishes, I will walk into my 35. And after that, I think, it gets even more interesting...

Choosing Yourself

2026-08-22T00:00:00Z

Three stories in one day, all with the same missing skill: choosing yourself. The examples run from the heavy to the almost invisible – staying where it hurts out of fear of being alone; keeping up a friendship the body sounds sirens against, out of kindergarten loyalty; and the one that lands hardest because it's so small: dinner set out beautifully for everyone at the table, and thrown together any old way for yourself.

Her channel's name promises tenderness toward yourself, and this post is that name written out in full. The body's siren, the un-refusable favors, the self-care postponed to "somehow later": each is the same choice made against yourself, repeated until it looks like character. Amulet of Love walks the road back from exactly there – self-acceptance not as a reward to earn, but as the companion you take along. And her closing has the right amount of edge: if the people around you don't understand, change the people around you – don't bend for everyone.

Life is one, she reminds us, and it flies. Would you wish a life spent on everyone but yourself on your children? On yourself?

Why don't we know how to choose ourselves?
Today the day lined up so that I heard 3 different stories, and they were all about "choosing yourself" – or rather, about not knowing how.
When we were teenagers we loved drama, we lived on it, our world felt like a drama. Most likely it's the hormones swinging in puberty, and we get pulled into all those RIDES. Which is logical, on the whole.
But why, in adult life, when we've grown up, when there's no mum-or-dad figure telling us how to live, at the very moment we're our own masters – why don't we choose ourselves?
Living with someone we don't love? He hits, drinks, cheats, humiliates – and we don't leave. Fear of being alone? Is being alone really SO BAD that all of that has to be endured?
We keep in touch with people we don't want to talk to. For example: a friend of mine would get anxious whenever her childhood friend texted her. Her body was already sounding the siren, hinting that this person wasn't right for her. But they keep in touch – because they've known each other since kindergarten, or because she doesn't have many friends, or doesn't know how to say no. There are many versions of why not – and sadly, it's rare that we choose ourselves.
And how many times have you driven to a meeting or helped a friend when you really didn't want to? But you can't refuse: they'll think you're a bad person, a traitor to the friendship, an egoist and all the other name-calling.
Talking this over with a friend today, we remembered some moments that seem small but are actually very telling. You cook dinner: for your husband you set it out beautifully, for your daughter too – and for yourself, whatever, thrown together any old way. You clean the house all day, do this and that – and washing and tending yourself, well, somehow later.
And how many moments like that are there in a life, where we choose everything and everyone except ourselves? It made me so sad. Life is one, and as you've probably noticed, it flies very fast – and we spend the time on people we don't like, on things we don't want to do, on everything around us except ourselves. Would you wish a life like that on your children? On yourself?
Let's try choosing ourselves. And if the people around us don't understand – then it's time to change the people around us, not to bend for everyone )

The Controller Leaves

2026-08-14T00:00:00Z

This one is filed from the middle, not from afterwards. A McDonald's dinner, a worker stepping outside to hug her crying daughter at one of the tables – and Bella is suddenly in tears herself, with everything surfacing at once: the helplessness of being mortal in a world you can't control, the grief that her daughter could one day be without her, and – in the same wave – how much she loves who she has become.

The line that names the shift is small and enormous: my inner controller decided to leave. What replaces it isn't chaos; it's permission – emotions spoken instead of stored, tears allowed, anger said out loud, nothing held in the body anymore. Fear and Control maps exactly this trade: the controller's job was always protection, and what it protected against was feeling. She's watching it resign in real time.

She doesn't tie the post off with a lesson – the ride is still going, and she says she'll keep untangling out loud. That honesty about the middle is the gift.

Let's be honest.
I keep writing about changes in the past, about various light practices. Today I'll share what's happening in the "now".
Today we decided to have dinner at McDonald's. We're sitting there, my husband, our daughter and I – everything's fine. Suddenly I see a McDonald's worker come outside, walk over to a table and hug a little girl. Her husband was sitting there with their son and daughter. She hugged her so tenderly, wiped her tears – and I started crying. And how it poured out of me 🙈
I understood that I'm in some kind of rethinking of everything right now. There was a feeling as if I'd understood how helpless I am in this world, and my inner controller decided to leave; I felt sad that I could die at any moment and my Sara would be left without a mum. Acceptance of my body and of myself set in. I was bursting with how great I am. How many friends I have – loyal, real ones – how I bring people together, what a big heart I have. A desire appeared to hug our planet, to become one whole. Acceptance of my emotions – I no longer hold them in my body. Yes, I'm emotional, sentimental, I can cry from being touched. I speak up when I'm angry, when I'm sad, and I don't want to hold anything in my body.
By the way – however much people dislike her, Buzova is actually a perfect example in this respect. She doesn't hold her emotions: wants to cry – cries, wants to laugh – laughs. And she can joke about herself. Not everyone can do that, but it's a very important skill – for your body first of all. Many illnesses, as we know, come from the head 😢.
And this whole ride I experienced at its peak today, though it started yesterday. For now I'll keep digging in my emotions, analyzing, and sharing how I look for answers and untangle my ball of emotions.
Good night, everyone 🩷

Full and Valuable

2026-08-13T00:00:00Z

The Russian word she's playing with – polnotsennost, being "full-and-valuable" – is the word the checklist culture uses for a completed life. Career but no family: incomplete. Family but no job: incomplete again. Her question cuts under the whole ledger: who decided that being full and valuable means closing every sphere?

Her evidence is a year that the ledger called worthless: a person who couldn't legally work, and in that unpaid year built apps and a crypto bot, made amulets, learned, was present – and by his own words grew more than in the five paid years before. Since nobody paid for it, does it not count? She asks the same about her own maternity leave: grown tenfold, salary zero. Being Whole is this site's answer to the same question – wholeness was never assembled out of closed spheres, and nothing about you is waiting for a payslip to become real.

Her closing is the root sentence dressed for this occasion: even success means something different to each of us. Understand what YOU want – and walk toward it.

Full-value non-fullness.
Let's talk about being "full and valuable". Here's how it goes: you work, you see your friends – but without a husband and kids you feel somehow incomplete. You marry, give birth, are temporarily out of work – incomplete again. Where does all this come from? To be full and valuable, do I really have to close every sphere? And who decided that?
By the way, as an example: for a year in Russia my husband didn't work, because by law he couldn't. And when my people found out, there were a lot of questions – and a lot of looks. But in that year my husband made the Treko Viz app, a notes app for IT people, built a crypto bot, made amulets, studied new things in IT, spent nine wonderful months of pregnancy with me and, in his words, "grew more in a year than in the last five or so." But since it wasn't paid, it doesn't count? 🤔
I'm on maternity leave now; even if I badly want to work, I can't. I'm also in another country, let's not forget. In these 4 months I've grown x10 🤭 But yes, nobody pays me for that. Then what is maternity leave for? I'm a good mum, but I also want something for myself. I'm trying everything I like right now. I'm giving room to everything my body and soul want to do. And where that leads – we'll find out a little later 🥰
And the most important thing: we are all different. With different wishes, tempos of life, ambitions and ideas. Don't try to fit yourselves into other people's frames and successful successes – be yourselves. After all, even success means something different to each of us ❤️
Understand what it is that YOU want – and walk toward it. ☺️

Five Minutes

2026-08-11T00:00:00Z

Perfectionism doesn't only spoil finished work; it prevents starts. Bella's version came with numbers: plus thirty kilos, then hour-long sessions that punished her into quitting. The sentence that turned it around wasn't a training plan: better to do five minutes than not to do it at all.

The motto works because it removes the three things that kill a practice – expectations, self-violence, disappointment – and keeps the only thing that builds one: not quitting. Four sessions a week instead of daily heroics; ten lazy minutes on the bad days; and the familiar trick that five intended minutes usually turn into thirty once you've begun. Surrender & Decision walks this same line at full width – surrender and conscious doing aren't opposites, and the balance of the two is what a practice can actually stand on.

Her question at the end is the practice in miniature: what would you like to start – the thing you keep putting off? Five minutes of it counts.

We always want to do everything perfectly, all the way. And that pushes us away from an enormous number of interesting and important things.
For example, I never much liked doing sport, but after +30 kg I understood I had to. And so you turn on a workout video or go to a trainer, kill yourself for an hour – and on the whole you don't feel like doing it again.
And at that moment I heard important words: better to do 5 minutes than not to do it at all.
And that's my motto now. I do sport about 4 times a week, 20–30 minutes. It used to be every day. And the weight is coming off, the body has tightened up, and – most importantly – I don't quit. There are days when I'm really too lazy, and I do 10 minutes. Because even 10 minutes of cardio is better than nothing 🤭
And very often, when you think "well, I'll do 5 minutes", you end up getting drawn in – and half an hour or an hour goes by )
No expectations, no violence, no disappointment. Even 5 minutes a day of anything is already more than nothing 🩷
And what would you like to start doing – the thing you keep putting off? )

It Starts With You

2026-08-10T00:00:00Z

She opens by rolling her eyes at her own headline: it all starts with you – banal, worn out, throw it out the window. And then she stands behind it anyway, because the truth doesn't get less true for being annoying. What follows is the most honest map of the middle of the way she has written: the stages nobody advertises – disappointment, lost faith, the bottom, giving up, and finally the anger that turns into a decision.

The middle holds the part most guides skip: old pain surfacing, the brain begging for its familiar settings, the feeling that you're cringe, and the strange lost point where the old life is no longer livable and the new one hasn't arrived – so how do we live? The Art of Letting Go describes the same passage from the inside: what empties you first, and the room that the emptiness turns out to be. Her answer at the lost point is the article's answer too: don't stop – go in deeper. The answers come.

And her guarantee is the only kind worth having – not a promise that life will change, but the correction that matters: it isn't life that changes. It's you.

It all starts with you! Banal, worn out, sometimes the phrase is downright infuriating – I completely understand. It irritates me too sometimes; I want to throw it out the window.
But unfortunately it's the truth, and the truth, as we know, isn't always pleasant.
In life, as in sport – if you want change, you have to work hard. But there's a pleasant bonus in all of it: later, it starts to bring joy. You have to pass through all the stages: get disappointed, lose faith, hit the bottom, give up – and finally get angry enough that the desire to change everything appears. And that's where your new life begins. At first it's very hard; the brain resists, doesn't understand what's wanted of it, wants to go back to the long-familiar old "settings". Here the main thing is not to drop your hands and to keep going. In the moment, things start coming out that have been sitting there a long time – maybe pain, maybe resentment. And the desire to stop it all – and here you have to overpower yourself. And then relief comes, a kind of pleasant emptiness. And room appears for something new. It's yours to decide what to fill yourself with: pain and disappointment again, or something new and good. And of course, along this whole way you will doubt many times, there will be the urge to drop everything – though at some point that already feels almost impossible. There will be more doubts – why do you even need this? Skeptical questions, not understanding what you're doing, even the feeling that you're cringe ))) The universe will keep running its checks – how well you've learned the lesson, how ready you really are to move to the next level. And with every level you'll feel better and better. At a certain point there will be a moment when you get a little lost. That happened to me and my husband this summer. We knew we could no longer live as before (before the practices), and the new was still only on its way, and we didn't understand: "so how do we live?" Here the main thing is not to give up and to go into it even deeper – and the answers will come to you. And life will change; it really can change. But don't wait for a magic wand: it isn't life that changes – it's YOU. And you'll notice how everything around becomes different. And it's worth it. As someone who has walked from darkness to light, I can say with certainty: I stand behind my words.
And to everyone who reads me, and to those still to come – I wish you to explore our beautiful world and to change what has long kept you from breathing with a full chest.

Ask for the House

2026-08-09T00:00:00Z

The sharpest tool in this post fits in one line: ask for the end, not for the path. The interview, the job, the promotion – those are routes, and routes are negotiable. Under the job sits the house; under the house, maybe simply a life that is covered. Her unwinding question does the work: I want this – and why do I want it? Asked a few times in a row, it walks you down to what you actually want.

The Manifest guide's first station is this exact move – it takes the intention you bring and asks what's underneath, offering refinements until the wording carries the real want. And her closing rule is the guide's spirit in her voice: don't trim the wish in advance to what seems "realistic". The universe's routing, as she puts it, is not your department.

Want a house – ask for the house. Don't ask the universe for an interview.

There's a goal – I see no obstacles 🤭
My husband taught me another interesting thought: you should ask not for the path to the goal, but for the end goal itself.
For example: yesterday you had an interview at Yandex. You really want them to take you.
But why do you want that job? To buy a house.
So it turns out your real goal isn't the job at Yandex at all – it's the house.
So ask for the house. 🤗
And by what route the universe decides to bring you to it – forgive me, but that's her problem 🤭
Maybe through that job.
Or maybe through an opportunity you don't even know about yet.
And you can unwind practically any wish this way:
"I want this. And why do I want it?"
Until you get down to what you actually want.
And if the end goal really is a job – wonderful. Then don't ask for just "a job".
What kind?
Maybe you want to work two days a week, do what you love, and earn enough for it to cover your whole life.
Then ask for exactly that.
Don't trim your wish down in advance to what seems "realistic" to you.
Want a house – ask for the house.
Don't ask the universe for an interview. 💛

Write It Down

2026-08-06T00:00:00Z

Her favorite practice needs no course, no timing, no teacher: paper. The bee-swarm of thoughts – she's used the image before, and it's exact – buzzes until it lands on a page; the circus-donkey thought that chases itself in a circle stops when it's written down. In the moment of writing, she says, the thoughts become clear, and the answer arrives faster than expected.

Three uses, one mechanism: the diary that unknots the day; the unsent letter to a person you can't talk to – a quarrel, a grief; write it, don't send it – and the wish letter, wanting spelled out in the smallest details so even you can see what's missing. The Blind Spot works the same seam from the other side: what circles unseen inside keeps its grip exactly until something makes it visible. Paper is the cheapest instrument there is for that.

She wrote her own wants down against real shame not long ago and watched them turn realistic. This post is that experience distilled into a practice anyone can pick up tonight.

My favorite #practice is writing. It's always with me. Remember how we kept diaries as teenagers? Only now, so many years later, have I understood how strong this practice is.
So what to write?
1. A diary, of course. Usually the thoughts in our head are like a swarm of bees. Buzzing, buzzing, and you can't always make them out. Or like the donkey at the circus – one thought chasing itself in a circle. And here the writing practice comes in. In the moment of writing, our thoughts become clearer; we understand better what the problem is. And the answer is found faster than we expected.
2. A letter to a person. It happens – you've quarreled with someone, God forbid someone has died, there's trouble with a person – you can always write them a letter. No need to send it; just write. By the way, Guf has a song – "Letter Home" – and that's exactly what he's talking about. The man gets it, after all )))
3. A wish letter. We often want something, the voice in our head sounds pretty good, but the wish doesn't come true. Sometimes it's better to write down what you want, in the smallest details. That way the universe will understand exactly what you want. And afterwards it's worth looking at what you've written – and maybe you'll understand what's missing for it to come true.

Breaking the Circle

2026-08-05T00:00:00Z

The pattern is easy to see from outside and almost invisible from inside: boyfriends like clones, the same doubts, the same pressing, the same tears – a script she eventually knew by heart. Bella's name for it is precise: a closed circle. And the exit wasn't a better strategy inside the script; it was putting the script down – a soft goodbye, and the decision to live a year without men.

Then the part she tells with a wink: the book was bought at the start of December, and by the 23rd of January the year-without-men plan had already failed – in the best possible way. Read it as her story, not a technique: the letting go didn't summon anyone; it ended the loop. Karma describes exactly this mechanism – a lesson repeats until it is learned, and what looks like fate is often an unfinished pattern asking again.

Her closing is an invitation, not a diagnosis: look – maybe you have a circle of your own that it's time to break.

A closed circle.
Have you noticed some situation happening to you over and over? Whether it's relationships that feel carbon-copied, or how no matter how often you change jobs, the outcome is the same?
The universe gives us a lesson, like in a game: until you pass the lesson, don't expect the next level.
For example: in my life I badly wanted love – including to give it. As soon as I even slightly liked a guy, I was basically ready to love. And they were all like clones. The same behavior, days-long reactions, blocks, ignoring. I pushed pretty hard too, sobbed, etc. Until in the moment I understood: I can't do this anymore. I was sick of this closed circle. And then I went into the practices. Of course, very soon I met a handsome one. And off it went again – the wave, the emotions, the passion. And afterwards, as always, his doubts, my pressing, etc. Until I understood that I already knew this script by heart and couldn't stand the sight of it. And then, very softly, I said goodbye to him. And decided to live a nice little year without men. I even bought a book with that title. That was the beginning of December. And on the 23rd of January I met my husband 🤭
I broke that circle – and moved to the next level.
Take a look: maybe you have a circle of your own that it's time to break ❤️

The Dark Forest

2026-08-02T00:00:00Z

Two years sit between the notebook and the woman reading it. The pages hold a mind-map with "I" at the center – family, work, friends, travels, hobbies – and around it the state she was in when she drew it: more questions than answers, self-denial, fears by the cartload, no idea where to go.

Finding old notes is a practice nobody schedules, and it measures what daily life hides: some things answered, some settled, some still in process – and the forest itself changed character. Not conquered, not mapped: the dark forest is no longer frightening; it beckons. Fear and Control describes the same turn from inside the mechanism – fear loosens not when the path is fully lit, but when you stop needing it to be.

That is what walking a way looks like from two years further on: the questions don't all close. The wood stops being dark.

Two years ago I was sitting in a small wooden house with a stove, in a farming village in Switzerland – back then my husband was just introducing me to other sides of spiritual practice.
That's when, right in the moment, I made these notes. There were more questions than answers – self-denial, fears by the cartload, and no understanding of where to go at all. Completely by chance I found them now, and I realized that over this time I've found answers, resolved or settled some things, am still in process with others – but that dark forest is no longer dark and frightening. It's more like inviting, beckoning.
By the way, this is another #practice. Pick something you don't know about yourself, would like to change, can't find an answer to. And we'll try to help you.

Not Aladdin's Lamp

2026-07-24T00:00:00Z

This one is a rant, and she's earned it. The reels that teach the correct way to make a wish – the right count, the right tense, the right formula – get the answer they deserve: spiritual practice has no "how it must be done". Her mother-and-sweet analogy does the demolition in one move: a child who says I want a sweet gets the sweet; no mother replies say it in the present tense first.

Under the heat, the position is exactly this site's ground: not a method – a companion on your way back to yourself. The universe isn't Aladdin's lamp with a wish quota; the form was never the point, and the shame around asking – who invented that? Take It All made the same correction at the scale of one toddler and two toys; here it is said at full volume, for everyone. The Manifest guide keeps the same posture: it offers steps, never rules – take what fits.

She ends the way she always does when the fire burns down into warmth: wish for everything you want. I hug you.

I am so fed up with seeing reels that TEACH YOU HOW TO MAKE WISHES. Blinovskaya immediately came to mind 🤦‍♀️
I'll definitely film a reel about this and post it, but for now I want to share it here.
Spiritual practices have no rules and precepts like Religion has. Spiritual practices have no "how it must be done". Anyone who isn't an Instagram fake shaman will tell you there are no rules for how to use this or that knowledge, instrument or technique. The universe hears you and understands you – more than you think. Roughly speaking: when you're little, you come to your mum and say – I want a sweet. Mum gives you the sweet; she doesn't say – well, keep on wanting, but if you say "I have a sweet", then she'll give it to you. Absurd, honest to God. In the same way, the universe is not Aladdin's magic lamp; it doesn't come with a set number of wishes. You can ask for 100 wishes – or 1000. And it doesn't matter whether they're small or big, whether they seem silly or minor to you, or maybe it's the dream of your whole life – MAKE THE WISH. And it doesn't matter how – say it out loud, write it on paper, in the present tense, as if you already have it – IT DOESN'T MATTER. The universe isn't stupid; it will understand you and give you everything you need at the right moment in time.
Who even decided how many wishes there should be? Why must they come in a particular form? Is this a meatloaf that has to be cooked by the recipe, or else dinner turns out crappy? And why is making wishes shameful, and asking for a lot bad manners? Who made that up? Most likely the people who have everything and aren't very keen to share it. But I don't grudge you a thing – take everything you could possibly want.
The universe is like your mum who loves you more than anyone; she wants to help you, to hear you out and to give you all the good things of this world. You just have to ask, however silly that sounds – and, of course, do something toward it. Believe in your dreams, walk toward them and don't be afraid of them. Wish for everything you want, and don't worry that people won't understand you.
I hug you.

The Right to Want

2026-07-22T00:00:00Z

The discovery under the noise is precise: she wasn't just forbidding herself to dream – she was forbidding herself to want. Bella catches the ban in the act and does the least mystical thing possible: she sits down and writes, honestly, everything she would want from herself, from life, from everything around. It's the hardest thing she's done in years – the shame of wanting is that strong – and then the words pour out.

What the paper does is the whole point: written down, the dreams stop being frightening and start looking realistic. The Manifest guide is built on the same first move – an intention only becomes workable once it's named – and walks the same road she walked alone: name what you want, meet what blocks it, speak it out loud. She ends knowing her direction and says it without embarrassment: she wants to be a mentor, a healer – to help the way she has been helped.

Her invitation is careful in exactly the right way: try it, but not necessarily her way. Do it the way you feel.

This past month a swarm of bees made of my thoughts has been flying around me. And every day, little by little, I try to pick them out one at a time. I've already understood who I want to be when I grow up – I've even taken the first steps toward it. But the noise didn't stop. And in the moment I understood: I forbid myself not just to dream anymore, but to want. How much further can it go?
To be honest, I really didn't like that, and I decided to do some work "on myself".
I went to our spiritual space and sat down to write. I understood that I had to write down, honestly, everything I would want from myself, from life, and from everything around me. I'll say it honestly: it was the hardest thing I've done in years. I felt so ashamed and awkward, as if I had no right to my own wants. But I gathered myself, sat down… and the words poured out. And when I finished and looked at the pages, I laughed. Is that all? I thought. On paper these dreams looked not so frightening at all – actually quite realistic. I understood that I have the strength, the desire and the energy to bring all of it into reality.
Afterwards I took the wooden chimes, and to their sound I spoke aloud everything I had written. By the way, at first that's awkward too, but then I let go of all the prohibitions and spoke my wishes with confidence. I shouted a little, let all the energy out, even stomped my feet. And at the end I felt so light and, at the same time, so full. And I understood what I want and where to move now.
And I can say it boldly and without embarrassment: I want to be a mentor, a healer. I want to help the way I have been helped and still am. To give this world everything I can.
Try this practice – and you don't have to do it the way I did. You can do it the way you feel. And maybe you'll find the answer to your question.

One Take

2026-07-21T00:00:00Z

The charts and systems she consulted all pointed the same way – her strength is her voice. But the confirmation that matters in this post comes from somewhere plainer: a week of filming reels that were technically fine and all wrong. Looks fine, voice fine, topics great – no resonance. The diagnosis, when it lands, is one she has been circling for weeks: she was squeezing herself into borrowed frames again – short but punchy, loud headline, a bit of spice.

The moment she drops the format and films as herself, it takes one take. The Creative Process describes exactly this mechanic: the work flows when it comes through your own way and stalls when it's pushed through someone else's. The chart didn't make her voice her strength; the one-take video is where she found out.

Her quote of the day earns its place: don't try to squeeze into other people's frames – build your own.

These last months I've been sorting myself out, searching for what I want to do, and sharing my thoughts and steps with you. Having studied my natal chart, Bazi, human design, I learned that my strength is my voice. Analyzing my life, I understood that I could always bring people together, listen, help, protect. And my blog here – still small, but it's growing. And the main thing is that the people who come here are the ones who are genuinely interested. I'll try to share more of the actual practices – what I do – my thoughts and successes. I'll try to bring more activity.
I also decided to bring in my real voice and start filming videos for Instagram. And here a very interesting situation happened. For about a week I filmed reels, but it was all wrong. I'm fine with how I look, even my voice doesn't annoy me, and the topics are great – but the videos didn't resonate. Today I understood why there was no resonance. I was trying to squeeze myself into other people's frames. The frames of bloggers, of Instagram – short but punchy, a loud headline, a bit of spice, etc. But that's not me – my blog is about spiritual practices, about helping, about being natural! And then I filmed the video in one take, and I'm delighted.
Quote of the day: don't try to squeeze into other people's frames – build your own 🤭

Stronger Than I Think

2026-07-20T00:00:00Z

She prepared for the postpartum depression the way you prepare for a scheduled delivery – therapist briefed, everyone had it, any day now. It didn't come. Then the emigration slump that every checklist promises – it hasn't come either. At some point the question turns around: what if the strength was real and the forecast was borrowed?

Maybe I'm much stronger than I think – that sentence is the post. Not a boast; a correction of an old habit: being raised to scan for the negative that doesn't always arrive. Amor Fati works the same turn from the philosophical side: to stop bracing against life and start receiving it – with interest, with curiosity, enjoying what is actually here.

The waiting for the catch is inherited, she says. The curiosity is chosen.

How much do we underestimate ourselves?
I've been thinking about how little I trust my own strength. When I was pregnant, everyone talked about the baby blues / postpartum depression. I waited for it so hard – any moment now – discussed it with my psychologist, prepared. And it didn't come. My wonderful therapist Maria kept asking me why I was waiting for it like that 😂 Well, how could I not – everyone had it.
Then came the move to Switzerland, and again I keep waiting for the moment when you start to miss things – the Russian language, friends, family – and the slump after the euphoria sets in. But that hasn't come either, so far. Maybe I just haven't been here long enough – or maybe that moment will never come?
Maybe I'm much stronger than I think. Being alone with my daughter 24/7 isn't hard for me; in the evenings and on weekends my husband helps. We manage well without nannies and grandmothers. And maybe it doesn't matter where I'm from – what matters is that my family is with me? My husband and my daughter 🥰 And friends are always my friends, even at a distance. And I can always see my mum and my sister – the world isn't closed just yet 🤭
Maybe we were raised that way – by relatives, by the country, by the world of those times – so that we're always waiting for some negativity that doesn't always arrive.
So now I'm learning not to expect a catch around every corner, but to look toward the future with interest and curiosity – and to enjoy the present.

Simply Live

2026-07-17T00:00:00Z

Every checkbox on the list got ticked, and the list just wrote a new line. Bella walks her own sequence honestly – marriage as a woman's fulfillment, then career as fulfillment, then both at once, then the company closes and the verdict arrives on cue: failure, doing something wrong. The treadmill doesn't care which box you're on; it only cares that you keep running.

Her answer isn't a better plan. It's half an hour on the balcony with a coffee and the warm wind, without the thought that someone is meanwhile getting ahead. Being Whole practices exactly this direction of travel: not adding another achievement to become someone, but sitting down inside what is already there. You're so busy becoming someone, she writes, that you forget to simply be.

The hardest permission on this way isn't a bold leap. It's the ordinary one: to simply live.

And you know what's the hardest thing in life? It sounds banal, but… simply living.
I remember how badly I wanted to get married back at university. It seemed to me that this was what a woman's fulfillment was.
Then the focus shifted to work. Instagram back then was wall-to-wall successful success, and I too wanted to become "someone". Though who exactly, to be honest, I still don't know. 😂
Then, by some miracle, I managed to fulfill myself in work. First I became a recruiter. After 10 years of working as a personal assistant, that was a huge step forward. Then I became an HR manager. Well, that's it, I think – there it is, fulfillment!
But there was still one more checkbox: get married. I did.
Then I got pregnant.
And you know what happened?
The company was closed down. I went on maternity leave.
And so: as a wife I'm fulfilled, it seems. As a mum too. But the career is gone.
So what does that make me? A failure?
I must be doing something wrong…
And it goes on like this all the time. If there's success at work, it feels like you urgently need to make it in family life too. If everything is good in the family, it starts to feel like it's time to build a career. If by some miracle both worked out: then you absolutely must find a hobby. Better two. Learn languages. Do sports. Read books. Meditate. Develop yourself.
And don't forget, all the while, to constantly compare yourself with others and devalue everything you already have.
And so you spend your whole life running somewhere. Searching for yourself. Searching for fulfillment. Searching for a new hobby. And life… passes by.
Because you're so busy becoming someone that you forget to simply be.
To simply sit on the balcony. Pour yourself a coffee. Or a glass of wine. Look around. Feel the warm wind. And for at least half an hour not think that you're wasting time. That you could be doing something useful right now. That someone, in that half hour, has already become more successful than you. To simply live.
It seems to me that amid all this noise about success, achievements and endless fulfillment, the hardest thing is to give yourself permission to simply live.

Through Her Eyes

2026-07-15T00:00:00Z

The freshest teacher on this way is seven months old. Bella watches her daughter meet the world before any frame arrives – no standards, no "wrong", no thought of how one ought to look – and calls it what it is: a clean sheet, on which other people's attitudes will soon start writing.

What she draws from it isn't nostalgia; it's a practice with two edges. Toward her daughter: shield the sheet as long as possible, so the girl keeps hearing herself and not other voices. Toward herself: she notices she has stopped judging, stopped labeling – because every person walks their own path and learns their own lessons. That lands squarely on the sentence this whole site grew from: your way is the way. And Surfing the Ocean of Truth is about the same hearing – recognizing the voice under the noise and trusting it enough to move with it.

Try it, she says, at least sometimes – a child's eyes. Not to become naive again, but to remember what the sheet looked like before the writing.

The real world.
My daughter is only 7 months old, but she has already taught me a lot. And there's one observation I want to share.🤗
The whole world around us lives without rules. Animals, insects, plants, the weather – they have no frames and no imposed standards.
When a baby is born, it doesn't see its mum as fat or thin, tall or short, beautiful or plain. It has no idea that you have to look a certain way for others to like you. It simply lives. It is a pure soul, growing, loving its mum, studying this world with enormous interest.
A baby is like a clean sheet. And little by little, other people's attitudes begin to appear on that sheet. First the parents explain what is right and what is not. Then school joins in, friends, work, social media, society. Step by step a person grows a shell of frames, beliefs and the fear of doing something "wrong". And at some point they no longer live the way they themselves feel – they live the way they think others expect them to.
And looking at my daughter, I myself am learning to see the world through her eyes.
I very much hope that when she grows up, I'll manage to do everything possible to shield her, as much as I can, from imposed opinions, fears and other people's expectations. Because I want her to hear herself for as long as possible – not other people's voices.
And you know what's interesting? More and more often I notice that I've stopped judging people, hanging labels on them and sticking my nose where it isn't wanted. Because every person walks their own path, lives their own experience and learns their own lessons.
Try, at least sometimes, to look at the world through a child's eyes. You might learn a lot – not only about the world around you, but about yourself. 🥰🤗

Try Everything

2026-07-14T00:00:00Z

Every child wants to try everything; then someone checks for talent at the door. Bella traces the narrowing honestly – a million questions shrunk down to find a job, one hobby, keep your head down – and then refuses it in the simplest way there is: she decides to do everything that comes into her head.

What makes the refusal solid is that she doesn't smuggle ambition back in. She asks what "success" even means and settles for satisfaction and experience – singing, drawing, sharing because it interests her, not because a verdict is coming. Coming Alive starts from the same discovery: the assumption that to become more alive we must do more, reach further, become more – and the answer that aliveness was never behind that door.

The voice that says you're no Picasso doesn't get argued with here. It gets thanked, like an old caretaker relieved of duty – and then she decides for herself.

Do you remember how, when we were little, we wanted to try everything? We had a million questions, and just as many ideas and wishes. We wanted to sing, draw, dance, fly to space and be a doctor. And quite often, especially if we didn't have a big talent, we were told we didn't need it. We weren't going to become a musician, an artist or a poet, were we? And so, little by little, our wishes, our passion, our interest in everything around us narrowed down to the size of: find a job, one hobby, and keep your head down.
Remembering that recently, I decided I want to do everything that comes into my head. Sing, draw, write a blog, share, learn, create. And maybe I won't succeed in a single one of these directions – and by the way, what does "success" even mean? So even if I don't become great at one of these things, I'll get satisfaction and experience from doing them.
How often have you wanted to do something, but that voice got in your way? You won't get anywhere, it won't work out, you're no great Picasso, etc. Well – not everyone is born great, so to speak, but that doesn't mean we have no right to do the things that interest us. If there's something you've always wanted to try – now is the time. Say thank you to that voice, but you're not a child anymore: you can make your own decisions and do what your heart is drawn to 🩷

For Me, a Miracle

2026-07-12T00:00:00Z

A panic attack on the train – the strongest in ten years – then two days of fear and no strength, then the same trip again with the anxiety already waiting in the morning. When Fear Returns is written for exactly this visit: perhaps you believed you had moved past it, and here it is again, as if nothing had changed. But something has changed – she gathers herself and rides on.

The center of the post, though, isn't the attack. It's the sentence to me it's a miracle – being met with care, and hearing an old reflex answer that she hasn't earned it. She doesn't dress the reflex up as humility; she names it as work still open and stays on the way. That is ground this site keeps under everything: you are enough was never a wage for finished work.

She closes with the old vow – in sickness and in health – and for once the formula sounds lived-in rather than borrowed.

I've told you before that I used to have panic attacks. Well, this week I had a severe attack on the train to Zürich. I hadn't had one that strong in 10 years. I grabbed the stroller, jumped off the train, and in a panic wanted to call my husband and ask him to come get me. But then I pulled myself together and made it there after all. I'll tell you about that in more detail a bit later – right now I want to share something else.
For about 2 days after that situation I was in a strange state of fear, apathy, no strength. And today I was supposed to go to Zürich again, for a walk with a friend, and from the very morning the anxiety wouldn't leave me. And my husband offered to ride with me. He said, if it would make me calmer, he could ride with me to Zürich and go back.
Maybe for most people that's a normal situation. For me it's a miracle. I'm not used to a man being able to treat his woman like that. Every time I'm amazed at what a calm, sensitive, caring husband I have. I often ask myself what he's even doing with me; sometimes I think I didn't deserve such a man. Which, of course, absolutely needs working through – and I'm on the way 😉
Still, years of working on myself, changing my views and my goals, a bad example and painful experience led me to my husband. And I'm ready to choose him again and again. I don't need anyone else; I thank the universe for our meeting.
And I wish everyone to meet their other half, who will be with you, as they say, in sickness and in health 🩷

Let's Be Friends

2026-07-01T00:00:00Z

Adults don't lose the ability to make friends; they bury it under protection. Bella names the mechanism in one line: taught by bitter experience, we look for the catch. And the armor that keeps disappointment out keeps the woman at the lake out too.

Then a move strips the armor. In a new country there is no old circle to hide inside – a new place where there's only you – and the childhood skill comes straight back: a light conversation, numbers swapped, a library full of singing kids. Fear and Control walks the same trade from the other side: what the guarding costs, and what walks in the moment it drops.

She ends with a wish that reads like an invitation: how good it would be if people weren't afraid of meeting each other. Not a technique – just the catch-seeking, set down.

Let's be friends?
Where do you know your friends from? Most likely the bigger part is from childhood/school/uni. Then, maybe, work/hobbies. And not everyone has many friends – or any at all.
I think you've noticed how easily children find friends, while we adults have to make an effort. Taught by bitter experience, we don't like opening up to strangers – and all the more, when someone actually wants to be friends with us, we immediately look for the catch.
But everything changes when you move to another country. A new place where there's only you. And it's as if that brings people together.
Yesterday Sara and I were swimming at the lake; a woman with two daughters came up to us, a light conversation, and we'd already swapped numbers, and she invited me to an event at the local library. The kids sing and read books there, and the mums meet and chat.
First of all, it was good for Sara to see other people besides mum and dad. For me, a sociable person, it's a lifeline. Now I have girls I can go for a walk with in our neighbourhood, ask for advice, and feel like a small – but real – part of Swiss life) Yes, with kids it's much easier to find friends, but even the loners here find their circle through the chats. Moving abroad brings people together, 100%.
How good it would be if people weren't afraid of meeting each other – because how great it is to find new friends 🩵

Take It All

2026-06-30T00:00:00Z

The rarest catch is mid-sentence: an inherited rule leaving your own mouth. Her daughter is playing with a stick and a purse; the sentence arrives on autopilot – you can't have both, pick one – and Bella hears it, shudders, and stops. Whose rule is that? Who decided wishes come one per person?

She's been unpicking this thread for a while – the have-tos, the borrowed clocks – but this post shows the practice at match speed: the script caught in the air and reversed before it lands on the next generation. Take it all, she says instead. The Manifest guide starts from the same permission: you're allowed to name what you want, and nothing says it must be singular. Scarcity of wishes was never a law of the universe; it was a rule of the house.

Two toys, one shudder, one reversal. Inheritance interrupted.

Yesterday I said a phrase to my daughter that made me feel sick myself. Does it resonate with you?
She was playing with a little stick and a little purse. I say to her: Sara, you've got the purse and the stick both – do you want everything? Pick one!
And it made me shudder. Why were we raised to believe we must choose only one thing? Why can we make only ONE wish? I want everything. And I have far too many wishes.
In the end I said: Sara – if you want the purse, if you want the stick – take it all! Take everything you want!

Tools and Instructions

2026-06-27T00:00:00Z

This continues the grotto post, and it reads like a life re-inventoried: a childhood career test that said journalist or actress (her mother laughed), then – years later – a media football club, interviews filmed for fun, a final entered without a ticket all the way to the FIELD, videos cut at her own kitchen table. The evidence was scattered across her biography the whole time; it had just never been read as evidence.

The chart lines she quotes didn't create any of it – her footage already existed, her mother had already said the word talent. What the lines did was let her believe what was on record, and the weight fell. The Creative Process asks the question this post answers in the first person – what wants to be born through you? – and her closing sentence deserves to be kept: we arrive with the tools and the instructions included, and only forget where we put them. Finding them again costs nothing but honesty with yourself, and permission.

If her way of saying it is a chart and a football field – then that was her way. Yours will look different. That's the point.

Continuation of the story.
I'll start from a moment when I was little: my mom took me to a career-orientation test, something like that. And they said the profession of a journalist or an actress would suit me. Mom had a good laugh back then – right, mom?)))
And now, many years later, I meet Dima Egorov, who is starting his media football club. And just for fun I begin filming interviews with the guys from the team. Then Dima gives me an assignment: get to the final (there was no ticket) and get onto the FIELD!! and take interviews. And I got through) By then I'd made acquaintances who walked me in. And I took every interview Dima asked for. Without fear or shyness. Later I even edited a video for Dima and filmed videos for my own YouTube channel. By the way – if someone had told me earlier that I would even BE ABLE to do that. But it was SO interesting to me, I was on fire. All my life I have adored football, movement, emotions. And watching my videos, my mom said she hadn't expected SUCH talent from me) Later I also had a Telegram channel where I kept growing inside that team.
Time passed; I left the Broke Boys, then pregnancy and the move to Switzerland. And the moment began: who do I want to be? Even though for the next year I'll definitely be on maternity leave, the fears kept tossing these thoughts at me. At moments I would do something and see it as if from the outside. I knew how to shoot it, what to say, how to edit it. And there were a great many signs about spirituality. Which I told about in the post above.
And so I decided to dig into my natal chart, and I read:
“A blogger – yes, and not just plausibly: it's written into your nature in capital letters. You have a direct path from inner energy to voice – that is rare. You are literally made to live through experience and then tell about it so that people recognize themselves in it. Not a theorist – one who has walked it.”
And I read these lines and it feels as if a heavy weight fell away, as if I gave myself back to myself. And it was as if I were looking not at a screen but at my own self, as if I saw my soul and it merged with my body. Honestly, I don't know how else to describe these emotions. And I understood: here. This is mine.
Not for nothing did pictures keep drawing themselves in my mind these months: video, spirituality, people. And when, if not now, to bring it all to life.
The main thing I wanted to say with this post: don't muffle yourselves – try to hear yourself. We came into this world with the tools and the instructions already in hand; we simply forgot where we put them. And we can find them – but for that you have to be honest with yourself and allow yourself to.

Lilith and Agatha

2026-06-26T00:00:00Z

The names are invented; the story, she says, is not. It's the anatomy of a slow poison: a friendship since school where one grew and the other punished the growing – remarks, expectations, a displeasure to be managed. The detail that stings most is the smallest: staying longer at meetings so as not to hear, later, that she had given too little time. Anyone who has weighed every word of a message knows which swamp this is.

The turn comes late and costs her: ending it was painful, and even afterwards she braced for the next message. Then the space the friendship had occupied started filling – guests, hobbies, breath, health. The Art of Letting Go describes exactly this economy: what you release stops spending you. And her closing counsel – notice what poisons you, and walk away however hard it is – carries a promise she earned line by line: the good arrives into the room you cleared.

She kept nothing of it but the lesson. That's what this blog is for.

There's a girl – let's call her Lilith. And since childhood she has had a friend, Agatha. They'd been friends since school, knew each other from every side; you'd think there was nothing left to be surprised by. Usually, having walked a road like that, you live through all the stages of friendship, and as you grow up yourselves, the level of the friendship grows too. The betrayals, the envy and the other unpleasantness fall away. But it so happened that Lilith grew very much spiritually at exactly the moment when Agatha wasn't ready to step toward her own fears – and she devalued Lilith's work in every way, so that Lilith would stay down on her level. There were many moments when Agatha struck Lilith with remarks, hung her own expectations on her – all in all, plenty of red flags, so to speak, for Lilith to reconsider this friendship. But, as we're all trained to do, Lilith was afraid of being inconvenient and of choosing herself. Time passed, the relationship grew more and more toxic. Lilith weighed every word she wrote to Agatha, because Agatha was forever displeased. She picked her words and phrasings, was afraid to decline a meeting, or even (comically) stayed longer at one, so she wouldn't have to hear later that she had given too little time… Time passed, it all kept piling up – and at some point Lilith learned that something good and important had happened in Agatha's life, which she had hidden from Lilith for almost a year, because she thought Lilith would ENVY her and be upset…
And most likely that was the final red flag, when Lilith's eyes opened. She tried to talk – and was told to get her head fixed… That happens too. Then she was blocked, unblocked – in short, a whole carnival.
Lilith made the decision to end this friendship, and it came to her painfully and hard.
And what is this story for? By the way, it isn't invented – only the names are changed))
For this: after that decision, at first Lilith was afraid of seeing a message from Agatha, didn't know how to react, and feared she'd be pulled back into that relationship.
And then the changes began. She felt like inviting people over (after Agatha's behavior Lilith had a fear of guests); she had energy for herself and her hobbies again; even her health improved. She understood what a weight she had taken off herself, how she could breathe. And the fear that Agatha would write disappeared too. Because Lilith now knew for certain she would not go back into that swamp. She had given too much of herself away for nothing. And heard only negativity and insults in return.
Sometimes it's hard to notice what is poisoning you. But if you have noticed – walk away from it. Remove it from your life, however hard that is. Endure through it – and then you will see how much GOOD comes into your life)

All the Bread

2026-06-25T00:00:00Z

The inventory of the scene is small: a dacha outside Moscow, a table laid by her grandmother's friend, and one thing on it a seven-year-old with allergies could actually eat – bread and kolbasa. She ate it. What followed was a phone call, capital letters – she ate ALL THE BREAD – and a speech about disgrace. The residue lasted thirty years: ashamed to eat at anyone's table, eating last, eating least.

Two things make the post more than a grievance. The first is the claim she distills from it, plainly useful to anyone raising anyone: watch what you say to children, and don't unload your own quirks onto them – a sandwich makes no one poor. The second is the tone: no anger left. She worked the wound through until what remains is only the wish to go back and stand up for that child – held lightly, because, as she says, then it would be a different story. The Healer makes the underlying point: no one else could have done that closing for her.

Thirty years to say it out loud. Some sandwiches take that long.

When I was little I would come for the summer to my grandmother's dacha. Back then the Rublyovka wasn't yet the Rublyovka. And I'd spend the whole summer there. By the way, my entire memory of my grandmother is how she always called me “insolent”. Now I understand she was 100% a narcissist, which clarifies a lot of her behavior for me. But that's beside the point – the story isn't about that.
One day she had to go somewhere, and she asked her neighbor-girlfriend to keep an eye on me. I was about 7–10, I don't remember exactly. By the way, since early childhood I ate very few foods. Mostly pasta with sausages, and bread with kolbasa. I'd been allergic to a lot since birth, and anything new scared me. So, lunchtime, and this madam laid the table – and of everything on it, the only thing I could eat was bread with kolbasa. Which I did.
It's important to note that I grew up a very obedient child: they told me – I did it. Which, of course, I later worked through at length with a psychologist))) So I ate those sandwiches and went on living my childhood.
But that evening, or in the next few days, I learned that I was a very ill-mannered child. The friend had called my grandmother to complain that I had eaten ALL THE BREAD AND KOLBASA and what an ILL-MANNERED child I was… The palmhead meme would fit well here.
And then the long speech from my grandmother about how ill-mannered I was, how I had disgraced her and so on.
And ever since, I was always ashamed to eat when visiting people – it felt like I was eating them out of house and home. I tried to eat almost nothing, or to eat only after everyone else had, so as to be sure not to EAT TOO MUCH of what was theirs.
Ever since, I couldn't stand that girlfriend – the sight of her made me shake. All in all, maybe she was even joking, and my grandmother, as always, twisted everything – but both filled me with negativity.
It is very important to watch what we say to our children, and not to unload our own quirks onto them. And children are allowed everything – a sandwich won't make us poor🤭
And here I am, 34 years old, and I still remember that situation. I'm not hurt, I'm not angry – rather, I would like to go back and stand up for myself. But then it would already be a completely different story

Back to Myself

2026-06-23T00:00:00Z

For a month the signal wouldn't resolve: ideas circling, the same words repeating – spiritual work, helping people – and no way to read them. Then a visit to the Emma Kunz grotto, and the fog lifts. Whether the place did it or a readiness that was finally ripe – she doesn't insist, and neither do we. What matters is what she heard, and what happened next.

The strongest passage isn't the calling; it's the honesty about the joy. She loves helping people, and for years she prosecuted that love: maybe it's the EGO rejoicing, maybe I put myself above others – so she forbade herself the gladness. Testing a desire for ego is exactly right; what she discovered is that the permanent verdict was the impostor. The prohibition, not the joy, was the old installation. And when that fell, the sentence that names this whole site happened to her in real time, with tears: I returned to myself. Surfing the Ocean of Truth calls it recognizing your current – this post is what it feels like from inside.

The rest, she says, is for another post. Knowing her, it will come.

I brought myself back.
Today there was very strong spiritual work. I think after visiting the Emma Kunz grotto the process got moving. The place charged me very strongly.
This last month different ideas were floating around me, some thoughts, but it was all a little foggy and I couldn't understand where I was being led. It kept sounding: spiritual work, helping people and so on. Though I'm not a healer, not a shaman, a doctor or a psychologist. And sometimes, when I was doing something, I would see it as if from the outside – as if a camera were standing there, how I would edit it and what I would say.
But I couldn't recognize what it was.
And there, in the Emma Kunz grotto, I heard the answer. My purpose is to bring as many people as possible to spirituality.
And then I went through my path with the natal chart.
“The spiritual theme is yours, not accidental. The Moon's nakshatra Shatabhisha is the nakshatra of one who sees the hidden and knows how to heal through understanding. Not through diplomas and certificates – through the depth of personal experience and the ability to see in another person what they don't see themselves.”
And for the first time I decided to dig very deep. I admitted that I really love helping people, and afterwards I'm always very glad – but then it seems to me that it's my EGO rejoicing, that I'm putting myself above others, and I forbade myself the joy. I was afraid I was a master of “unsolicited advice”. It turned out these are old installations that it's high time to stop. And then I heard words like these:
You're so comfortable and warm to be around
I would call you my spiritual sister
One comes to you – and you simply understand
And so I'm going through my chart, and in the moment I start crying. It's as if I see myself in front of me, my soul – and the feeling that I have returned to myself, found myself. A connection happened. I have never felt sensations and emotions like these. I am definitely on the truest path.
There were many more moments, but I'll tell about them in another post.

These Tears

2026-06-21T00:00:00Z

The scene repeats for years: the stadium stands up, scarves out, the anthem starts – and her tears start with it, and she stops them. Every time. Videos of strangers singing together, of people saving an animal: same tears, same block, same shame.

What changes today isn't the feeling; it's the verdict on it. This site's second principle says feelings are guests with a full right to exist – not tolerated, welcomed – and The Blind Spot walks through exactly this: meeting the parts of yourself you've sentenced, with genuine love. Her discovery has a bonus layer: the tears were never weakness at all, but her strongest signal – they mark, with total precision, what fills her: people uniting. A compass would be jealous of that accuracy.

She ends by asking what fills you. If something came to mind just now, that was probably it.

Today I accepted a new part of myself. Or rather, this part was always in me – I just kept trying to suppress it.
I loved going to the stadium, watching football. And every time we stood up with our scarves and sang the Spartak anthem, tears would start running – and I always stopped them, blocked them.
Every video where people sing in a stadium or come together in the street brings me to tears. I watched the film “Plata za risk”, about the Plata bank, and there are many moments where Russian guys who moved to Mexico sing to a guitar and celebrate the bank's successes – and again, tears.
I was always ashamed of these tears. And today I understood: it inspires me TO MADNESS when people unite. Singing, rejoicing, saving an animal and so on. That incredible energy that fills you in a second and gives you endless strength. And under that surge, my tears come. And there is nothing shameful in it. It is the strongest, purest energy – it charges you so much that it's honestly silly to be ashamed of it.
Is there something like that that fills you?🤗

The Body Says Stop

2026-06-20T00:00:00Z

The day starts against her: a month of lost weight back overnight, crying, laughing, crying again. Then four workouts started and abandoned in twenty angry minutes, and – the honest detail that makes this post – even the spiritual room refuses her: her soul bucks like her daughter at bedtime, not tired enough to be put down. Some days everything is the wrong door.

What turns it isn't willpower but a change of listener. Her body had been saying one thing all morning – stop – while the brain kept scheduling. This site calls that voice the compass: guidance speaks through the body, through tiredness and resistance, and heaviness is information, never a debt. Being Whole is a guided way into exactly that hearing. Her version ends with the instruction in working order: once you've heard the inner voice, do what it asks.

She had already declared a day like this once, two posts ago. This one shows the machinery behind the declaration.

With tenderness to yourself
How often are we used to doing things by force? Because we have to, or because the result is badly needed, and so on.
And let's not forget we have our women's days, which knock us out of the usual rhythm.
Today I woke up and had already managed to get upset: the weight I'd lost over a month came back in a day🙈 Then I cried, laughed, and cried again. Went to do my workout, started four different trainings and understood: I can't. Decided to “work” a little in the spiritual room. Didn't go. Opened the guide, talked a bit, understood that today I need to get off my own back. And as you've guessed, it's the hormonal storm before the “lovely” days.
And yes, it was hard. This week I'd only trained three days and thought I'd make up for it properly on the weekend – and there I was, puffing away for twenty minutes, starting one workout after another, angry, hating it, until I understood that my body was screaming “stop”.
Then I dragged myself into spirituality. Where my body, my soul bucked just like my daughter does when I try to put her to sleep and she isn't tired yet.
Sometimes it's very important to hear your body and give it a pause. Not to keep doing things by force only because the brain decided so.
Sometimes there's a battle between the brain and the inner voice, and it takes time to hear it – but as soon as you've heard it, do what it asks. And believe me: you'll only be better for it.

Woman to Woman

2026-06-17T00:00:00Z

There's a bitter Russian saying that calls woman a wolf to woman. Bella's title flips it in three words: woman to woman is a home. What follows starts from a genuine puzzlement – when did women get divided into single against married, competition, coldness, that look? Her phrase for it is telling: as if we were divided. A story installed, not a nature.

The waking she describes – warmth replacing the marathon – is what this site means when it says separateness is the illusion suffering grows from; A Radical Thought walks that thought to its end. But her version stays at street level, which is its strength: a compliment to a stranger, a smile on the way to work, a coffee. Connection practiced at the smallest possible scale, charging the whole day.

She ends with an instruction this site would never dare give and she absolutely can: love women, especially if you are one.

Woman to woman is a home 🤗
I don't understand – why did women suddenly turn against each other? Or rather: right now it feels like women are waking up from a long hypnotic sleep and starting to unite. From ancient times women were a single force. And then it's as if we were divided. The single ones have little love for the married ones, the married ones fear the single ones. Endless competition, coldness, that look.
Why is it so? Yes, it happens – women betray. And men don't?
Right now there's a kind of warmth coming from women, as if the competition, the eternal marathon, is falling away.
Simply give a compliment, smile, help, get acquainted and have a coffee.
I really like this new world where women live in love and peace. 🩵
Don't be afraid to smile at another woman on the way to work, or to write a comment to a woman you don't know. It isn't hard – and it charges you with energy for the whole day.
Love women, especially if you are a woman! There is incredible strength in us💜

Not a Ladder

2026-06-16T00:00:00Z

The first line points back to an earlier post on her channel about a chart-reading tool – the tool is the occasion here, not the point. The point starts with an envy many will recognize: people like her husband, who knew at eighteen, chose one road and walked it. Next to that, her thirty-four years of still deciding read – in her own words – as defective, a failure.

Then the reframe: what she had filed as inconsistency turns out to be her nature. A path through roles, trials, and changes isn't a broken ladder; it's a different shape of way – and this site's root sentence exists precisely for that: your way is the way. Worth saying plainly: the chart didn't make this true, it gave her permission to see what was already true. A Place to Go calls that releasing a limitation – here, the story that there is only one right road.

Her closing line is the practice in one sentence: what seems negative in us sometimes turns out to be the gift. Look again.

And who am I?
In this post I already wrote about the guide bot – it may seem banal, but no. I sent it to many of my girlfriends and they were very surprised; as one of them said: it's as if it had lived my whole life with me.
And thanks to it you can learn and understand a lot.
I always looked with envy at people like my husband: an interest in a particular profession since childhood, university after school, then straight to work – and in fact a life devoted to career growth in that direction. Me, at my 34 years, I'm still thinking about who I want to be. And it always seemed to me that I was defective, a failure. And today I decided to look a little into my chart and understand what is “wrong” with me. As it turned out – everything is very much right.
My charts say I'm not a person of the classical career ladder. I wasn't given the story of “choose a profession at 18 and walk one road for 30 years”. The opposite: my path goes through searching, experience, trial and error. Through different roles, interests and stages of life.
What I considered my inconsistency turned out to be my nature. What matters to me is not simply doing a job, but understanding people, sharing experience, supporting, helping others through changes and finding meaning.
My fulfilment is not in building a career by the accepted script, but in gathering, with time, all my experience into something of my own.
And everywhere it says “helping people”, “through people” and so on.
And I would like you, too, to look differently at some of your qualities and moments of your life. Sometimes what seems negative in us turns out to be positive🥰

With Tenderness

2026-06-11T00:00:00Z

Four days alone with the baby, and a morning that feels like the start of an illness but is only tiredness with nowhere to put itself. Her answer is a declaration most mothers have needed and few have made out loud: today I'm a lazy mom. No porridge, no laundry, no tracking anything – and no apology attached.

The move underneath is the one Amor Fati practices at full scale: such days also have the right to exist, and the body that carried four days alone has earned rest, not a scolding. She doesn't push through the day; she signs it. And the signature is the name of her whole channel – «С нежностью к себе», with tenderness to yourself. Six lines, and the channel's name stops being a title and becomes a decision.

That's the entire post. Some days, it's the entire practice.

Today I'm a lazy mom. I've been alone for four days – my husband is on a business trip.
I woke up as if I'd fallen ill: tiredness. Today I'm not giving her porridge for breakfast or purée for lunch. Today she eats breast. I'm not doing laundry, not cleaning; today I'm not tracking the diet and I'm not sure I'll do my workout. Yes, such days happen too – and instead of scolding an already tired body, I give myself rest.
With tenderness to myself💙

Simply Bella

2026-06-08T00:00:00Z

It starts with a caught thought, the kind most of us recognize and rarely examine: money arrives and immediately wants to be spent. Her counter-image is in the room with her – a child whose complete list of needs is food, sleep, a clean diaper, and love. Everything else is just the world, there to be tasted and watched, not owned.

The turn of the post is that she doesn't moralize the wanting; she traces it. The urge to buy isn't lying about wanting – only about the object: underneath it she finds a real lack of novelty, of connection, of space with no roles in it. Years of being mom, wife, the useful one – and the discovery that she needs time to be simply Bella. Coming Alive calls that movement coming home and letting life bloom from within; her month-long no-buying experiment is just a way of standing still long enough to hear it.

Her last line is the whole post, and it belongs on a shop window: what we look for in stores, the soul is looking for. It can't be bought.

Purchases, emptiness and the return to yourself
Today I caught myself on a thought: why, when money comes in, do you immediately want to spend it?
Who even convinced us that we constantly need something?
I look at my child. What does she really need? To eat, to sleep, a clean diaper and love. That's all. The rest is simply the world around her. She studies it, tastes it, touches it, watches it.
An adult, meanwhile, is constantly offered more to want. A new collection. A new thing. A new trend.
But what do purchases actually give?
Most often, a few minutes of pleasure. A short surge of emotion. And that's it.
I got to thinking: what if, instead of another thing, I gave myself experiences? A trip. A massage. Time with the people I love. A beautiful dinner.
I decided to run an experiment: a whole month without buying clothes or little junk. Simply watching myself.
And I understood one more important thing. The desire to buy often comes not from a need for things.
Sometimes it comes from a lack of connection, novelty, impressions, space of your own.
These last years I was almost always a mom, a wife, a person taking care of others. And suddenly I realized: I too need time where I am simply me.
No roles. No duties. No need to be useful. Simply Bella.
Sometimes what we look for in stores is really what our soul is looking for.
And that can't be bought.🤍✨

For Yourself

2026-06-07T00:00:00Z

The reason not to start is always ready: I draw terribly. Bella runs the honest numbers on it – what fraction of the world draws well enough to be bought? One percent? Five? – and notices what the numbers actually mean: everyone else who draws, draws for themselves. The talent bar guards a profession, not a pleasure.

This is the claim this whole site stands on, said at kitchen-table height: what is made from joy needs no approval, because its worth is settled at the source, not at the reception. The 44 Ways of Creation hanging in the gallery here were made exactly that way – by listening, not by qualifying. And the line about her daughter – may she try everything, draw, dance, be silly, simply Live – is the counter-inheritance to the have-tos of her last post: permission, passed down on purpose.

She ends with an assignment that isn't one: what have you been postponing? Try it. Take the pleasure.

I kept searching for a hobby – drawing, or singing, or maybe embroidery and so on. But every time I thought: I draw terribly, and with embroidery my hands grow out of the wrong place too, and so on.
And recently, discussing it with my husband, I got to wondering: where does that come from? Because if you look at the whole world – what percent of the population draws well? Whose works get bought, for whom is it actually a job? 1%? 5%? The rest draw for themselves. Same with singing, dancing and so on. You don't have to be an outstanding artist to draw – you can do all of it FOR YOURSELF. For the pleasure of it.
I want to raise my daughter so that she tries everything. Drawing, dancing, sculpting, creating, being silly and simply Living. For herself, with pleasure, without all these “what will people think” and “but there's no talent” and so on.
Let's create! What did you want to try but kept putting off? Do it, try it! Take your pleasure in it 🩷

Have To

2026-06-03T00:00:00Z

The post opens as a litany, and every line ends in a question the word can't survive: you have to respect your elders – and do they respect us? Have to have children, have to look decent, have to be obedient – to whom? Then the scene that grounds it: her mom washing the entire house before every visit, because otherwise someone might think something. Asked why, the answer is the word itself: have to.

What she does about it is small and radical at once: not a rebellion, a substitution. Want or can, instead of have to – the same dishes might get washed, but by a different person, for a different reason. Karma makes this exact point from the other side: what matters is not the act but the intention it grows from, and the same act done from obligation and done from choice plants different seeds. As you act, so you become.

She proposes a one-week experiment. It's an invitation, not – of course – a should.

Have to
You have to respect your elders. And do they respect us?
You have to have children. One is not enough, you have to have two – better a whole football team.
You have to look decent. Decent like what?
You have to be obedient. To whom?
You have to help everyone around. And will they help?
There are very many of these have-tos.
My mom washes the whole house every time before guests come. To the question why? Have to. So they won't think the housewife is bad, that she's a slob, that she's a bad wife and so on.
Have to, have to, have to… who has to?
Mom was raised that way – I don't argue, I don't interfere. But you can always re-raise yourself.
In my world I don't want to use the word “have to”. I will use “want” or “can”.
Shall we try a week of doing things not from “have to”, but from can and want?

Already There

2026-05-31T00:00:00Z

The complaint is instantly familiar: everyone has a hobby – the daily-sport people, the readers, the singers – and she has nothing. She uses a harder word for what that made her feel: defective. And she did what most of us do with that feeling – tried to force someone else's interests onto herself, at the worst possible moments.

The turn comes twenty minutes before the post, mid-pilates: she does sport every day. She reads everything she can hold, even with a baby. Her series list runs ten years deep. Nothing was missing – except the looking. Being Whole makes the same claim from the quiet end: what you are searching for is not somewhere else, and the deficit dissolves the moment the gaze comes home. Her sharper version: we devalue ourselves first, and call the rest luck.

She ends by asking her readers what their hobby is. Fair warning: you probably have one already.

I think this will resonate with many. Until today I looked at others and thought: everyone has a hobby, and I don't. Someone does sport every day, someone reads, someone sings and so on. And me – nothing, no way. I considered myself somehow defective. Kept trying to find that damn hobby. To impose other people's interests on myself, especially in moments when I wasn't ready for them.
And then today, literally twenty minutes ago, I was doing a pilates workout and it hit me: I do sport every day – how is that not a hobby? How am I different from that lady I saw yesterday on Instagram and envied: “look at her, sport every day”.
And I adore books – I've reread everything there is; even with a child I find time to read.
And how I love series – my list is ten years deep😂
And I have all of it. But for some reason we're used to looking at others and not at ourselves. And devaluing ourselves first of all, finding excuses and saying “how lucky the others are”.
Do you have a hobby? Which one?)

One Is Enough

2026-05-31T00:00:00Z

A form for a Swiss doctor's office made her reread her own birth records – and the reliving happened without the old fear, with something like a smile. She didn't work at that; six months did it. What faded was the horror; what stayed was the waiting to meet her daughter, a doctor named Katya, a scar like jeweler's work. Wounds close like this on their own, when nobody keeps them open.

Then the post does something rarer: it decides. One child, all her love to Sara, and later a life with her husband – said plainly, with the finances joke where the pathos would be. And when the predictable chorus arrives – you'll change your mind – she doesn't argue; she turns the question around: where do those thoughts come from, and whose desire is this? Surrender & Decision calls a real choice one made with open eyes that answers to no one else's outcome. This is what that looks like in a Telegram post.

One line in passing may be the deepest: all her friends gave birth differently, and it doesn't matter. Every way is a way.

Right now, for a doctor's visit in Switzerland, we were filling out information about Sara and my birth.
I reread it all and relived it all over again. But without that fear this time – with something like a smile. Yes, a caesarean itself is easier than giving birth yourself, but again, it depends on the woman – and what does “easier” even mean? All my girlfriends gave birth differently. And it doesn't matter, C-section or natural.
The operation started at 16:47; at 16:51 they had already lifted her out – that's five minutes – and by 17:30 I was stitched up and moved to intensive care. All together, roughly speaking, an hour. In that moment it felt like I was there a lifetime. And in intensive care I was shaking so hard I was afraid I'd bite my tongue off. That felt eternal too, but in fact it was about five hours.
Everyone says births are forgotten with time. I didn't believe it, but now, six months later, I can agree: the horror isn't remembered so sharply anymore, but the waiting to meet her, the suspense – that is remembered well. The team of doctors is remembered, my wonderful Katya. A doctor by the grace of God. The scar – simply a jeweler's work – will be a reminder always.
And going through it again doesn't scare me as much now, especially after a caesarean: knowing it would be the same and knowing what to expect, it isn't as frightening. What scares me is the spinal anesthesia. I'm still afraid – it felt like my legs would never move again.
A planned C-section is probably much kinder: you know the date, you know what to expect.
My body still feels like it's 80 years old. Even though I exercise every day and walk my 10k steps, I'm still wooden. I've probably recovered 50% in these six months.
Would I have another one? Yes!
But only if the first had been at 20🙈 Right now I'm not ready. I want to give all my attention and love to Sara, and in about seven years I want to enjoy life with my husband. At this stage we don't quite belong to ourselves – and I especially.
I've decided for certain that for me, physically and in some sense emotionally, once is quite enough. Financially I won't even start.
I think this is my last post on the topic of a second child, births and so on.
P.S. I know many will say I might change my mind, time will tell… Here I'd suggest thinking about where such thoughts come from. Are you imposing your desire on me? Why don't you go for it yourselves then? Afraid?

Something Ripening

2026-05-25T00:00:00Z

Two clocks tick in this post. One is borrowed: get a job, don't “degrade” at home, keep pace with everyone succeeding on Instagram. The other has no numbers on it at all – something is ripening, she says, and she can't name it yet, only guard it.

What she does with the borrowed clock is the practice: she doesn't smash it, she just notices whose it is. Growth out of season can't be forced – the sprout she describes is the oldest image on this site – and the signs she collects instead of a five-year plan are exactly what Surfing the Ocean of Truth means by learning to recognize the current and swim with it. Her last line could close that article: stay open, and follow the call.

Where it leads, she honestly doesn't know. That's not a gap in the post. That's the post.

Since the move to Switzerland I've had a strange feeling inside. As if something is ripening in me. I don't understand it yet, but I'm watching this little sprout, helping it and protecting it.
Recently I got to thinking about work – that it's about time I did something, “can't just degrade at home in the mom role”. Have to fulfil yourself, keep up with all the successful people on Instagram. But unfortunately I don't have some clear profession to walk through life with, and I came back to the question “what do I want to be when I grow up”. But my husband quickly brought me back down to earth, and I understand myself that working with an infant, a month after relocating, is not the wisest decision.
And then the signs started. A strong faith appeared – in myself, in the Universe, in the power of the spiritual. Then a spontaneous interview where a girl I had considered, let's say, not a role model surprised me a lot – she's into spirituality too. Then a TV show where the guest was also from our topic, so to speak. More and more I feel the Universe wants to tell me something, and for now I'm trying to put the puzzle together. And of course my husband's mom's link to a coaching and mentoring course, which also really interests me.
While my strength ripens, I share my thoughts here – and if I can help someone with a text, a card or a personal conversation, I'll be glad.
And where the Universe will lead me – I hope we'll find out soon) The main thing is to stay open and follow the call

The Bag

2026-05-23T00:00:00Z

The scene that opens this one is twenty years old: a sushi place on the Arbat, golden youth around the table – personal drivers, the right clothes – and Bella counting kopecks between a cola and a skewer. Not envy, she says. Just the feeling of being slightly extra. And a habit that outlived the table: arriving with full hands, picking up the check, proving.

The boutique in Zurich is where it resolves. The fear at the door – as if I'm unworthy – says out loud what the dream bag was actually made of, and Fear and Control traces that thread precisely: wanting makes expectation, expectation makes fear. Then she's inside, someone smiles, nobody fusses, nothing is conferred. Examined in the open like that, the wanting turns out to belong to the wound, not to her – and it lets go on its own. What's left is an actual choice: Italy, water, rest.

No bag was harmed in this story. Something older than the bag was.

Closing a gestalt
When I was a teenager, I moved in a circle of golden youth. Personal drivers, phones, cars, clothes and so on. I was from a completely ordinary family.
We often went to the movies, go-karting, the arcades and so on. And I remember it like it was yesterday: we're sitting on the Arbat – I think it was a Yakitoria – and I'm deciding whether to order a cola and sushi, or sushi, a skewer and water. Counting every kopeck to make it stretch.
I never envied my friends; rather, I felt a little out of place.
And then, almost twenty years later, when I met up with my girlfriends, that little girl inside me would try to arrive with full hands, to pick up the check – as if justifying the past, or showing that I can.
That's in the past now; I've let that one go. But it was there too.
And recently an interesting story happened. For our daughter's birth my husband promised me a Louis Vuitton bag. Of course it had been a dream since childhood – to walk into the boutique, choose, buy. To close all the childhood traumas with one bag 😂
And so I'm walking through a mall and I see it: pink, denim fabric – simply a dream. A couple of days later I was walking around Zurich and saw the boutique. It was so scary to walk in, as if I were unworthy. But I gathered myself and went in.
They greeted me with a smile… and that was it)
I walked around, touched things, looked. Nobody cared about me at all. In Switzerland they don't fuss over you or push anything on you.
And I walked out of there and got to thinking: do I even need this bag?
It won't make me thinner, prettier or, in the end, smarter.
And somehow the dream stopped being a dream. Better to go to Italy, swim, rest 🤭

Your Mask First

2026-05-18T00:00:00Z

The list from childhood is familiar: care for the animals, help your elders, never leave a friend in trouble. Bella notices what the list never included – yourself – and that our parents were handed the same list. Everyone knows the airplane rule about whose mask comes first; almost no one flies that way.

Then she tells a week that proves it: alone with the baby in a brand-new country, crying by Friday – while help was in the next room the whole time, glad to be asked. The anger that follows lands on herself, not him, and that's where the post earns its keep: a need is right, and it should be said out loud before the edge, not at it. Her question – are we any worse than the people we run to help at any hour? – is the Amulet of Love's ground note said her way: you deserve the same care you give.

She doesn't end resolved; she ends practicing. That's the honest version.

Since childhood we were taught to care for “our lesser brothers”, to help and respect our elders, “a friend won't leave a friend in trouble” and so on – but for some reason nobody taught us to take care of OURSELVES. Which, in theory, is the most important thing. It's like the announcement on a plane: put your own mask on first, then the child's. But unfortunately nobody taught us that – and that lesson passed our parents by too.
Where am I going with this: my husband left on a business trip, and for a whole week I was alone with our daughter 24/7. In a new country we'd arrived in a week earlier🙈 At first it was fun and easy; by the end of the week I was crying. Tired. It's hard not being yourself, dependent on a child, without a minute to exhale.
And then he came back, and I thought I'd exhale – he'd spend time with our daughter and I'd breathe a little. In the end we spent the whole day on household chores, since the apartment is empty and the move isn't finished yet. And toward evening I realized that my daughter's whimpering was irritating me beyond reason, that inside I had no strength left. And tomorrow my husband might leave on another business trip and I'd be alone with the little one again. And I felt so hurt – and then anger took hold of me. Not at my husband. At myself. That I, a grown woman, can't ask for help from my man – who, by the way, is always glad to stay with our daughter.
So there I am at the edge; I called him in for a talk and poured it all out: that I'm exhausted, at my limit, that I'd expected help from him and so on. That I'm angrier at myself, and that I need rest too. And of course his reaction was, as always, an adequate one. He, for his part, had been thinking what a good job he'd done – cleaned the toilet, took a walk with me and our daughter and so on. To be fair, we're both exhausted; the move drained us badly.
And so I'm thinking: why are we ready to help everyone around us, but not ourselves? Are we any worse than the people we run to help at any hour of the day? And it's not the first time this has gone this way with us: only in the moment do I realize my battery is nearly dead, hand over the child and go recharge – when, had I paid attention to it in time, everything would have been many times easier and calmer for everyone.

Ten Circles

2026-05-17T00:00:00Z

Bella writes this from her bed, a six-month-old crawling over her, and names the thought that arrives on schedule in that position: what a bad mother, not playing with her child. She calls it what it is – something handed to us from all sides, not something that grew in the room.

What dissolves it isn't an argument but a memory from the other side of the same scene: she was the child once, an ADHD whirlwind running ten circles around a mother who sat and rested – and it never once crossed her mind that this was a bad mother. The photo under this post is from those years. Coming Alive calls the move she makes here setting down what was never yours – the borrowed rule goes, and what remains is enough. For the child too.

The guilt in this post never wins. Watch how she does it.

I'm lying in bed right now with my six-month-old daughter. She's crawling around me: grumbling, then crying, then laughing. She wants to touch everything, pulls everything into her mouth, can't hold still in one position for a second. And I'm trying to invent games where I get to lie down while she does something next to me.
And sometimes the thoughts come: “What a bad mother I am, not playing with my child.” Well – all the things they impose on us from every side.
And then, for some reason, a memory surfaced – I literally heard my mom's voice. I remembered that when I was little – by the way, I had ADHD, which made being my mom doubly hard – she would also lie down or sit from time to time while I wound ten circles around her: always running somewhere, always doing something. And mom would say: “Bell, maybe we could sit for a bit? Maybe rest?” – something like that, half-joking. And I kept running, jumping, playing next to her anyway.
But it never once crossed my mind that I had a bad mom. That she sat while I ran around her. The opposite – for me it was an insanely great time with mom. It never seemed to me that she wasn't giving me time or anything like that.
And all these ideas that we must super-entertain children, run after them all the time and be their entertainers – I honestly don't know where that came from. It seems to me a child doesn't always need it. Sometimes a mom can simply lie nearby and watch her child play – and that's completely normal too. And the child doesn't need more.

Two Photos

2026-05-16T00:00:00Z

Two photos – she put them side by side on her channel, and the post is three lines long. In the first she weighs fifty kilos, smokes around the clock, doesn't love her life, and considers herself “fat”. In the second she weighs seventy, is happy, a mother, a wife – and considers herself “fat”. The photos are in the original post; the lines are below.

That's the whole insight, and she doesn't soften it with a resolution: the word in quotation marks never moved, while everything it claimed to be about changed completely. A sentence like that was never reporting on a body. The Blind Spot calls this the hidden pattern that keeps us at war with ourselves – and the first step it offers is exactly what Bella does here: seeing the pattern, out loud, without pretending it's already gone.

Three lines. Read them twice.

Photo BEFORE meeting my husband: I'm thin, 49–52 kg, permanently depressed, I smoked 24/7, didn't love life, didn't respect myself, considered myself “fat”.
Photo after marriage and birth: 70 kg. A happy mom, a wife, loving life; I don't smoke, don't drink alcohol, I consider myself “fat” and am trying to lose weight.

Your Place Finds You

2026-05-11T00:00:00Z

Bella writes this one from the side of the fear: she was the one proposing a million résumés, LinkedIn, knocking on every door – the whole artillery of making something happen. The post is about the other way, the one she watched work from up close, scared and supporting at the same time.

The claim underneath is precise: waiting is not doing nothing. Through the empty year the work continued – learning, building, the inner conversations – only the grabbing stopped. The Creative Process calls this the dance between the poles: you cannot force the wave, and you don't stand idle either; you stay ready. And “don't take the first thing that comes” is the same trust said practically: your place finds you when you leave room for it.

She ends with a question worth turning over: the rejection that later turned out to be a door. Most of us have one.

To believe or not?
To move to Russia my husband quit his job. And for the first year he simply did what he wanted – made his own VPN, built a visa tracker, amulets for family and friends, his own to-do-list app and so on. At some point I also got pregnant😁 And the question of work, of course, was standing sharp🤭 I worried about how we would live, on what – and with a child coming too. My husband believed that everything would come on time, when it was needed. The main thing: don't give up, but don't “tear yourself apart” either. I suggested sending out a million résumés, publishing on LinkedIn, writing to everyone we knew – in short, run and knock on every door! My husband, the other way around, went on with his own things, kept studying programming, and believed. A lot of spiritual work was done, conversations with himself; he was afraid too, but he believed. And at some point I said that I would simply support him in everything. Yes, I'm scared, yes, I worry, but I'm with him in any decision of his.
And then suddenly an old acquaintance of his wrote, someone he used to work with – she suggested going in as consultants at one VERY cool company. They went, and afterwards they were offered to become full employees of the company! Completely unexpectedly, my husband found work he likes, at a mega cool company, with a salary he'd never had in his life) And now we live in Switzerland, he goes on business trips and does what interests him)
I'm writing this not out of a wish to boast, but to show that your place will find you – and it doesn't matter whether you send 100 résumés or 1. What matters is believing in yourself, in the Universe (God), and not taking the first thing that comes along, but giving your place the chance to find you and appear in your life)))
Surely at some point you were turned down for a job or a project, and a week, a year or more later you understood that that rejection led you to a completely different path – your path

In Waves

2026-05-01T00:00:00Z

Two days after crying in the shower over a forgotten phone charger – her words, and the whole story is on her channel – Bella sat down to write the other side. Not to take the hard posts back: “I don't want this channel to be negative – I want it honest.” That sentence could hang over this whole blog.

Two claims hide under the jokes. First: moods don't need fixing – tiredness and euphoria alike are waves, the same waves that rolled through life before motherhood, and The Universal Principle of Balance is about exactly that swing between poles. Second, sharper: “with a child there's no life” is not a fact but a sentence some parents lock themselves in with. The cage is the words, not the child.

The rest is a joker card, two flights, and a cat that will never forgive them. Enjoy it.

Had a cry, had a poop, moved on.
Actually, it seems to me that life before motherhood and life during it are very much alike. Nobody is in a good mood always. Before motherhood there are also moments when you're tired, you want to cry, something's gotten to you and you simply have no strength. And mostly it's an emotion in the moment. Just like when a wave of absolute euphoria washes over you. Almost all our emotions come in waves. But I don't want this channel to be negative – I want it honest.
So today I'd like to write about the other side of motherhood 🥰
I won't write that children are happiness, you know that anyway🤭 But also: a child is a joker card. Need the toilet and it's locked? With a child they'll open it. Long line? With a child they'll let you through😂 There's a whiff of the “I'm-a-mom!” type here, I won't argue, but it depends how you play it)
Two flights with a five-month-old daughter and a cat. You get through all the checks faster, many wave you ahead, and you go through the business lane. The flight itself was wild fun for her – which you can't say about the cat; for him, I think, it's trauma for life🤦🏽‍♀️
And I often heard that with a child there's no life – lies) I started going out with Sara when she turned one month) Restaurants, shopping, doctors, walks, visiting girlfriends – easy. By taxi and by train. Here, I think, it depends on the parents: some lock themselves in with the words “I have a child now”. And some show the child social life right away)))

I Surrender

2026-04-10T00:00:00Z

Surrender is an uncomfortable word – it sounds like defeat, like admitting you've lost. Bella starts exactly there: sometimes giving over feels impossible, because it would mean weakness, the end of the road, letting go of the wheel.

Then she tells the apartment story, and it lands where Examples of Letting Go or Choosing lives: the choice stays – she knew she wanted exactly that apartment – and what gets released is the fighting, the chasing, the how. “If we're meant to have it, let it come; if not, give us one no worse” is the whole movement in one breath. That the answer came the next day is her story, not a promise; the release would have been worth it either way.

Her psychologist gave her the compact version: control what you can, allow the rest. The long version is below.

I surrender!
Sometimes it's impossible to surrender. Impossible for different reasons: admitting weakness, the end of the road, the desire to control everything, and fear.
And here I'd like to split this post into two parts.
Part 1. With my wonderful Maria (my psychologist) we were unpacking the desire to control everything. And she told me a wonderful phrase: control what you can. And what you can't – allow it to happen. Don't waste energy “for nothing”.
Part 2. Sometimes you need something – a document, an interview, a meeting and so on. And you try every way to get it, and it just won't come. And you keep beating your head against the wall, when sometimes you simply need to wait.
And here we'll join both parts on my example: we wanted to rent an apartment, and at first everything seemed to go well – they showed it to us, the contract process had even started, when suddenly, silence. And that's when I activated. Every day I asked my husband whether they'd answered us, suggested options for what to write to them and how, started looking for backup options, although in my soul I knew I wanted exactly this apartment. I was wasting so much energy that in the moment it felt like I was losing my marbles🤭 And, drained, I lay on the bed and thought: Universe, I surrender. I've done everything for this apartment, I want it very much, but this is where my strength ends. If we're meant to rent it – let it come to us; if not – give us an option no worse.
And exactly the next day they answered us, and the apartment is ours!
Sometimes surrendering is not about weakness but about strength. And again I remind you – don't be afraid to ask the Universe. Better to ask for an option that's easier, more convenient, more comfortable, and so on. And yes, for me it's the Universe; for you maybe God, Force, Energy – it's all one whole, everyone just calls it differently. But the meaning doesn't change.

In Its Own Time

2026-04-02T00:00:00Z

A few days before this post, Bella asked her readers what the phrase “everything in its own time” meant to them – and whether it meant anything at all. For years, she says here, it meant nothing to her. This is the story of how it stopped being empty.

The hinge of it is one sentence: at the moment she came to terms with her unmet dreams and let them go, she met her husband. The Art of Letting Go describes exactly that movement – releasing isn't giving up, and it opens what grasping holds shut. But she goes one step further: the years of waiting weren't a delay. They were the time it took to gather herself into someone who could carry what she'd asked for.

She ends by turning the question back to you. It's worth sitting with.

There's a phrase: “everything in its own time”. And for many years it meant nothing to me, it was completely empty. And in fact it gave me nothing.
For many years I dreamed of getting married. Or rather, not just of getting married, but of meeting my man, my love, becoming one whole, one family with trust, love, and respect in it. Of course, I dreamed of children. But for a very long time none of this was in my life.
And at some point, I suppose, I came to terms with it and let go of those dreams of marriage, of children. And at exactly that moment I met my husband – my future husband, back then.
Right now I'm at a point I never even dreamed of – everything turned out better than I could have imagined. And I also understand that never in my life could I have entered such a wonderful marriage any earlier.
Now is exactly the right time for my marriage. I understand that ten years ago I wouldn't have handled pregnancy as easily as I did now. About the birth I'll say nothing at all – I think back then I simply couldn't have given birth.
And motherhood is going very well for me now. Yes, there are difficulties, sleepless nights and all the rest, but emotionally it's easy for me. And I understand that if I had become a mom earlier, my child would have been emotionally broken, because back then I myself was as if shattered into a million pieces.
And I needed all that time to gather myself, to reset, to learn, to study, to forgive, to understand, to completely rethink my life and my vision.
And only now can I be a good mom. Now I can be her support, I can give her the maximum of what I have.
And the phrase “everything in its own time” has come to resonate with me so much… I understand that I'm grateful to the Universe, to God, to the Creator – I don't know what to call it – for everything happening exactly when it was meant to happen. Because if it had happened just a little earlier, everything would have been completely different.
About “later” I don't know. But, again, coming back to the title of today's stream of thoughts – everything in its own time.
And I'm very curious to know: have there been moments in your life when this phrase resonated this strongly?

The Perfect Picture

2026-03-31T00:00:00Z

Bella wrote this during the night feedings, and it begins with a conversation most mothers will recognize from one side or the other: before you give birth, you hear almost nothing, and all of it soft; afterwards, the same women tell you everything, in full color. An unspoken code, she calls it.

Her point cuts further than childbirth: every filtered story adds to someone else's collection of fears. What Being Whole practices from the inside – that being whole does not mean being unscathed – she does here in public, with a photo and a fear she cannot resolve yet: the belly that hasn't gone away, the work that shows almost no result, the hope that stays anyway.

No lesson at the end, no bow on it. That's the point.

Thoughts during the night feedings🤭
Recently an acquaintance of mine asked me about giving birth. And I told her everything honestly, as I remember it.
And we noticed that for some reason there's an unspoken code: moms don't tell the truth about childbirth. Usually there's very little information, all of it very tender – but once you've given birth and tell those same moms what a fucking ordeal you lived through, they agree and tell you their own experience in full color. Hey, women, why do you do this?
Why does everything with us go through a “filter”?
Show your life – only the luxurious part of it; the births, of course, were perfect for everyone, and after the birth everyone is perfect too… How long will we keep playing this perfect picture? And adding more fears and complexes to our collection?
My belly isn't going away. And my big fear is that it will stay like this forever. I work with a rehabilitation specialist, and now I've brought in a trainer to work on the whole body. I'm trying to sort out my eating, I walk four hours a day with my daughter. So far the result is very, very small. But I'm trying, and I hope that someday it will go away after all(

Ask, Then Walk

2026-02-28T00:00:00Z

“Okay,” you might say, “asking I can do – but then what?” Bella raises the reader's objection before the reader can: does the universe give everything, or only what I'm “entitled to” – and who decides that, anyway? She isn't embarrassed by the question; for her, that's where the interesting part begins.

Her answer is the same movement the Manifest guide is built on: name the desire honestly – asking ends the pretending that you need nothing – then release the how and the when, and keep walking in the direction you spoke out loud. Waiting for a miracle isn't part of it; the step is.

The rest – what “not now” means, and what won't pass you by – she says better herself.

Trust is about communication with the universe. You can ask it for anything. It's like a mom who watches over you.
Well, okay, you'll say, asking I can do 😅
The question is – what then?
Will it give everything? Or will it give what I'm “entitled to”? And who decides what I'm entitled to, anyway?
That's where the interesting part begins.
I truly believe that asking is possible and necessary. Because when I ask – I honestly admit my desire.
I stop pretending that “I don't need anything”.
But then I don't sit down to wait for a miracle. I keep living, working, moving, taking care of myself.
I said out loud where I want to arrive, and now I'm walking that way.
And if something doesn't come right away, I try not to take it as a refusal.
Maybe it's not the time yet, or I need to “grow into it”.
Sometimes “not now” is not a “no”, just a pause.
And trust, for me, is living with the sense that what's mine won't pass me by.
But the miracle won't happen without my step either.

The Third Position

2026-02-26T00:00:00Z

Bella posted this one minute after her map of the three states – a footnote, really, and I almost read past it. Then I saw that the footnote holds the whole practice.

Two of her positions are the poles that Surrender & Decision walks between: fatalism is surrender without decision – it slips into passivity; hypercontrol is decision without surrender – it turns life into war. Her third is the balance those two miss: doing what is yours to do, and trusting what isn't. If the last post drew the map, this one names the practice.

Five lines, and the whole of it. Here they are.

There are three positions people usually retreat into:
1. Rigid fatalism – everything is preordained, nothing depends on me.
2. Hypercontrol – everything depends on me alone, and if something goes wrong, it's my fault.
3. Cooperation with life – I do my part, but I understand that not everything is in my power.
Trust (5D), in fact, is the third.

States, Not Places

2026-02-26T00:00:00Z

If you've spent any time in the spiritual corners of the internet, you've met the dimension-talk: 3D people, 5D consciousness, ascension. It can sound like insider code – or like a physics claim nobody can back up. Bella opens with a wink and settles it in one line: metaphors, not measurements.

What she maps in a few short strokes is a road I know well. Her 3D – survive, provide, hold on to control – is the vicious circle Fear and Control walks through: fear grabbing for a control that was never there. And her 5D is no higher realm for special people; it's a state of trust, openness, love. Not somewhere to get to. Something to come back to.

In between lies the level where most of us live once we begin noticing our own thoughts and fears – and the noticing, she says, is already the transition. Here is her map.

Let me start by saying these are metaphors, not physical dimensions from a physics textbook🤭 A language for inner states, not a literal parallel world.
3D – the world of material reality
4D – the world of consciousness, time, emotions, transition
5D – a state of expanded perception, trust, unity
3D is a focus on material reality.
On the body, money, things, status, safety.
It's the level where the main thing is to survive, provide for yourself, hold on to control.
4D is the level of awareness.
When a person begins to notice their thoughts, emotions, fears, scripts.
It's a period of transition: questions appear, reevaluation, a search for meaning.
5D is a state of trust.
It's openness to life and to people. It's love for yourself, for others, and for the world.

Under One Blanket

2026-02-23T00:00:00Z

Bella writes this one from the middle of it – not from a memory of hard nights, but from inside them: feeding every hour, sleep taken away just as it deepens, no schedule of her own. She doesn't know how she keeps going. And then she tells you how.

The Stoics had a name for what she describes: Amor Fati – loving life not despite its hardships, but because of them. Not gritting your teeth through a season, not waiting for it to pass – wanting nothing to be different. When she says she won't hurry time and enjoys even these small hardships, that is the whole practice, done at 4am without a single philosophical word.

The proof is a moment under one blanket, toward morning. I'll let her describe it.

Yesterday my husband sat with our daughter for about half a day. Gave me a chance to catch my breath, lie around and so on.
In the evening he said: “How do you do this 24/7? I'm already out of strength.”
And I honestly don't know. Sometimes I feel like I can't take it anymore, like there's no strength left. Especially when you're feeding every hour at night – you've just sunk into deep sleep and you get pulled right out of it.
But then, toward morning, we're sleeping under one blanket, she turns on her side, tucks her little hands under her chubby cheeks, pouts her lips a little, and the whole world stands still. There's her and me. Maybe that's what gives the strength.
She's growing so fast, and despite the sleepless nights, the absence of a personal life, of my own schedule and my own little wants, I don't want to hurry time – I enjoy even these small hardships ☺️🤭🥰
P.S. Try setting an alarm for every hour of the night: I think after the second one you'll already be losing your mind 🤭 That's how it goes for us almost every night now. Hanging in there 🤣

Being Myself

2026-02-21T00:00:00Z

Bella opens with a sentence that took years to become true: she is no longer interested in comparing herself with others. Not because she gave up the race – because she left it. Her friends are all different, she writes, and that difference is exactly what has held them together for thirty years.

What she describes next is this site's root said in her own words – a path back to yourself. Getting to know herself, building boundaries, being inconvenient at times and keeping herself with herself; becoming her own teacher, friend, and support. A Place to Go and a Path to Get There describes the same homecoming from the other end: a place where the weight of judgment falls away and you remember you are far more than you have been living – available now, not at the end of a long road.

She ends on four words: to love and be loved. There is no better summary of the goal.

Being myself
Today I realized I'm no longer interested in comparing myself with others.
I am the way I am. What interests me is getting to know myself better. Being not perfect, not interesting, or too loud – but being myself.
I love all my girlfriends, and they're all different – that's exactly what brings us close. We're different, and we learn something from each other.
In a way it's that very difference that draws us together. If they were all the same, I'm afraid we wouldn't have been friends for thirty years.
I've become interesting to myself: getting to know myself, building my boundaries, being inconvenient at times – but keeping myself with myself. Protecting myself – because who, if not me?
I'm happy for my friends, I'm happy for people, I'm inspired by them – but I don't want their lives. I like mine. With my mistakes, my scars, my achievements, my success and my love.
To be myself, to know myself – that is the goal of my life. To become my own teacher, friend, mentor, support.
To love and to be loved.

Don't Anger God

2026-02-06T00:00:00Z

Bella opens her journal and writes two words: I'm tired. And before the sentence can breathe, a voice in her head answers – don't anger God. Instead of obeying it, she turns around and looks at it: where does this phrase actually come from, and what did it originally mean?

What she finds deserves the space she gives it: the phrase was about deeds – cruelty, deliberate harm – never about feelings. Joy, tiredness, and tears were never the crime. It took generations with no safe room for emotions to turn it into an instrument: don't rejoice, don't complain, be grateful and keep quiet. The Blind Spot describes the same machinery from the inside – the invisible hierarchy that sorts our inner world into welcome and unwelcome feelings, and becomes the greatest obstacle to healing. This way holds the opposite: every feeling is a guest with a full right to exist. Tiredness included.

Her last line names why this matters beyond one diary morning: it gets handed down – until someone stops handing it.

“Don't anger God”
Today I was writing in my journal, and I started with the phrase: I'm tired. Tired of not sleeping at night. And right away I heard a voice in my head: “don't anger God.”
I noticed I hear it far too often, and I got curious about its real meaning – and where this scare tactic even came from.
Originally the phrase “don't anger God” wasn't about feelings at all.
Not about joy. Not about tiredness. Not about tears.
In the religious sense it referred to deeds:
cruelty, pride, deliberate harm, the destruction of yourself and others.
It was about moral choice, not human emotions.
Feelings were never considered something that could “anger God.”
But over time the meaning changed a lot, and that is directly tied to the times our mothers and grandmothers lived in.
Those were periods when:
• individuality was not encouraged,
• there was no safe space for emotions,
• personal feelings were treated as secondary,
• survival and “enduring” mattered more than understanding yourself.
In those conditions the phrase became a convenient scare.
People began to use it not as a moral compass,
but as a way to stop a person:
– don't rejoice,
– don't complain,
– don't feel too much,
– don't stand out,
– be grateful and keep quiet.
The phrase stopped being about deeds
and became about control and fear.
And that is exactly how a great many people were psychologically broken back in childhood:
not because something was wrong with them,
but because they were taught not to feel,
not to trust themselves,
and to constantly expect punishment for being sincere.
And the scariest part is that it was passed down from generation to generation…

Simply Living

2026-02-03T00:00:00Z

“So, what do you do?” – the question that turns a person into a résumé. Bella writes from the other side of it: no job right now, no hobby to present, no project to point at. And she refuses the premise – she is not a smaller life waiting to be justified. Her work, she says, is to live.

This site keeps one sentence at its center for exactly this: you are enough. Not once the portfolio fills up – now, because you exist. There is no race, and nobody is behind. Coming Alive says it as an instruction from Love: set down what was never yours – the measuring, the running – come home, and let life bloom from within. Bella's version has a morning in it: teaching her daughter to hold up her head and smile at the day.

Whether that makes her worse or better, she asks at the end. The question answers itself on the way.

Why are we judged through the prism of work, hobbies, interests, income?
If I don't have a hobby, am I not a person? Not interesting? Not right? Why do we measure people by their achievements and their constant “running”?
I'm simply a person. I simply live. I have no hobby and no favorite pursuit. My work is to live. I love this world, I love traveling, discovering other traditions, views, tastes. I love books – and sometimes I don't read for months. I can watch a dumb series – though, on the other hand, why dumb? How is it different from a smart one? Is there such a thing as a smart series?
I can watch a movie; I love it when I cry or laugh, I don't love movies you watch without feeling anything.
I love people. Especially the ones close to me, my family.
I love my husband and my daughter. When they're near. When my daughter coos and smiles at me every morning. Teaching her to hold up her head and to smile at her mom and at the day.
Yes, I don't work. Yes, I don't run. And does that make me worse – or better? 🤭

Stopping in Time

2026-01-30T00:00:00Z

Bella and the vaccination appointments: three tries, and each time something got in the way – missing drops, a clinic playing for time, and finally a traffic jam, minutes after she had said inwardly: if it isn't needed right now, something will get in the way. And then we'll simply surrender to that. She laughed out loud in the taxi. As if the Universe said: I heard you.

You can read her protection ritual any way you like – this way never asks for belief. What her story actually practices needs no ritual at all: asking, then releasing the outcome, then taking what happens as an answer. A Radical Thought walks the same ground – timing too rhythmic to be coincidence, guidance that speaks through what happens rather than through argument. And her one-line landing is the precise part: sometimes protection means stopping in time and allowing events to arrange themselves.

She calls the signs gentle but very clear. That's how they usually come.

Today I was reminded again how finely and precisely the Universe talks with us.
We needed to get Sara her vaccinations. Three shots and drops.
Before the first trip my husband and I did a protection. We arrive at the clinic – they have everything except the drops. We looked at each other like, well, ok – so the protection worked.
I book an appointment at a second clinic, in Krylatskoye. Before leaving I do the protection again. We arrive, and they give us the runaround and tell us to come back in a month.
I'm already starting to smile.
I book a third time. We drive. In the taxi my husband and I do the protection again, and inside I say to myself: if she doesn't need this vaccine right now, something will get in the way, for sure. The medicine won't be there, there'll be a traffic jam, and so on.
And then we'll simply surrender to that.
And literally a few minutes later we come to a dead stop in a monstrous traffic jam in Kuntsevo.
And in that moment I laughed.
As if the Universe said:
I heard you.
Sometimes protection is about stopping in time and allowing events to arrange themselves the way they need to.
I'm learning this more and more.
And I thank the Universe for such gentle but very clear signs.

Humor or Aggression

2026-01-28T00:00:00Z

Bella's report from the newborn front reads like stand-up: meals at a run, a shower in ninety seconds, the toilet whenever the baby grants it. She doesn't hide the other half – the tears on the bathroom floor, the evenings that feel like the last one before breaking. And exactly there the post turns on a single fork: in those moments there are two options. Humor or aggression.

Choosing humor is not looking away – she looks closer than most (the crying always has a reason; her thought experiment about it is unprintable here and perfect there). It is Amor Fati in a bathrobe: loving life not despite its hardships but with them in the room, one catapult joke at a time. And her last line carries the deepest part: this capacity grew out of years of work with herself. Five years earlier it would have broken her. Everything comes in its time – nothing ripens before its season.

The rest is hers, emojis and all.

Being a newborn's mom means eating when she allows it, usually at a run or one-handed, because she's on the other arm🤭
The shower is basically the same story: you dash in, wash the important parts and dash out, slathering on cream as you go🤭
Every hour – yes, at night you wake up to feed her; sometimes it feels like there's no strength to get up. But there is🤭
The toilet I won't even mention – that one's down to luck, whenever Sara grants it.
Sometimes it's tears on the bathroom floor, or the kitchen floor – on the floor it's somehow easier.
Some evenings it feels like you can't do this anymore, like tomorrow you'll break. But by some miracle the strength shows up.
And then she smiles, coos, grabs your hand – and your heart melts. The tiredness passes, the toilet can wait, you can live without a shower – you could stop time and just look at her.
And back to the theme of this channel: the way I see it, there are two options in this situation. Humor or aggression. In the moments of crying for no reason (there is always a reason – not everyone wants to find it), or of no sleep and so on, you can be that aggressive woman who screams at her child, shakes her, and blames her for every mortal and posthumous sin – I'm afraid that child will be a long time coming out of the therapist's office. Or you can take it with humor and understanding. If you pooped your pants and could only change them with someone else's help, how loudly would you scream?) Pretty loudly, I think🤭 That's why I always take motherhood with humor and understanding – I'll joke, for example, that the baby bouncer would make a good catapult and we could launch her over to the neighbors😃
And I understand that all of this is my long work with specialists, with myself, with mentors and so on. If I had become a mom five years ago… I'd have hanged myself by now, been depressed, taken it out on my daughter. As they say, everything comes in its time.

Different Shoes

2026-01-16T00:00:00Z

Bella knows the receiving end of good advice by heart: almost everyone with more than one child is certain she needs a second, and even a direct “I don't want to” gets answered with total confidence – “You will.” Then, mid-conversation with a friend, she feels the same sentence forming in her own mouth: oh, I said that too, and look at me now. And she catches it before it lands.

What she finds in that moment is the reason this site's About page leads with “Not a method – a companion on your way back to yourself”. Experience doesn't transfer: what proved true for me proves nothing about you. The most honest thing to offer another person's way is company and curiosity, not conclusions – your way is the way, and that sentence holds from the other side too. Their way is theirs.

The sentence her hand wrote instead of the advice is the whole post in one line. I'll let her say it.

I've noticed something: we often push our own desires, fears, ideas and so on onto other people.
For example, a friend of mine has two kids, and she gently but persistently advises everyone to have a second or a third. And really, almost everyone with more than one child insists that I need a second. Even when I say straight out that I don't want to, they answer with complete certainty: “You will.”
I've run out of words to explain to these people that I want one child. I've even had the thought of telling them I can't have any more children, just so they'd leave me alone – but I'm not ready to lie like that.
And then recently I was telling a friend about breastfeeding, and she said that if she has kids, she'll most likely feed them formula. I'm someone who spent half her life sure that formula was the answer to everything – and since my baby was born I've been breastfeeding only, and I'm very glad about it. And I felt the urge to say: “Oh, I used to say that too, and look how it turned out.”
But in that moment I caught myself: with that I would be devaluing her wish and her words in exactly the same way. Even if she changes her mind later – that's her right.
And my hand simply wrote: “It will be interesting to see how it turns out for you.”
Because I really am curious. And because I don't want to push my experience and my desires onto her.
And the point of all this is that we're all different. With different interests, desires, and experience. And however much we might want it, another person won't fit into our shoes. We could all stand to learn to hear others and to respect wishes that aren't our own.

My Motherhood

2026-01-05T00:00:00Z

Bella opens with a question that sounds simple: what is motherhood? Diapers, feeding, sleepless nights – the list anyone would give. Her answer moves somewhere else entirely: her daughter will hardly remember any of that. What stays is the conversations, the hugs, the feeling of being heard and loved. Motherhood, for her, is presence – really being with her child, not just around her.

Two things in this post are this site in miniature. She refuses to judge anyone else's way of doing it – every form of motherhood has a right to exist, she writes, and that is exactly what this way claims about everything: nothing needs fixing; what is gets to be. And when the doubt arrives – tired, in tears, wondering if she's simply no good at being a mom – it isn't answered by a better routine. It's answered by a look: eye to eye, and between them rises a force neither of them makes alone. Being Whole practices exactly that movement – from thinking to feeling, from separation to connection.

The rest belongs to her: the first smile, the first little sounds that aren't even “goo” yet – and an answer she didn't look up but lived.

🌸 Motherhood
What is motherhood? Changing diapers? Breastfeeding? Not sleeping at night?
The little one will hardly remember who changed her diapers and washed her bottom. What she'll remember is the conversations, the hugs, the feeling of being heard and loved.
Many people wonder: why have children at all if a nanny spends all the time with them? I'm not judging anyone and I'm not pushing advice – everyone chooses their own “motherhood”, and every form of it has a right to exist.
So what is motherhood for me?
It's work.
Not getting angry at her crying, as if she were doing it on purpose.
Trying to hear and understand what she's “saying” with her tears.
Noticing her gestures and understanding what she wants and what she feels.
Not sitting on my phone while she lies next to me, but truly being with her.
And yes, even with a month-old baby there are plenty of interesting things to do together.
Feeling for her when she's in pain.
Laughing when something's funny.
And the best part – watching her grow and learn something new every day.
Recently she started smiling. Never in my life have I been so happy about a smile.
And today, for the first time, she lay there “talking” to herself. It's not even “goo” yet – just sweet new sounds. And my heart melts.
I'm grateful to fate that I'm not working right now and can spend this time with my daughter.
Yes, I get tired. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes it seems to me that I'm a no-good mother, or that I'm just not ready to be a mom.
But then I look at her, I smile at her, we look into each other's eyes – and an incredible force rises between us. A force she gives me.
That is my motherhood.

Being Parents

2025-11-23T00:00:00Z

Eight days after her daughter arrived, Bella sits down and takes stock – and opens with a disarming question: the channel was made for the spiritual side of life, but what could be more spiritual than being parents? This site has always claimed the same thing in other words: the way happens between breakfast and deadlines, not in a temple. Here it happens between night feeds.

Her list is practice, not theory. Don't take the stress out on each other – talk. Take turns at feeling useless: at night he can only sit and watch her feed, by day she sleeps while he cooks, and the see-saw finds its level. The Universal Principle of Balance describes exactly that movement – equilibrium is not a fixed state you hold but one that restores itself, wave after wave, when nobody grips. And the best advice she was given: accept every offer of help. She does – family, specialists, friends, each in their own way.

The list ends mid-thought, because her brain forgot what it wanted to say – and she checks that off too. Honest to the last line.

🌸 Being parents.
I know this channel was created with a lean toward the spiritual side, the practices, the change of life's rhythm – but what could be more spiritual than being parents?
8 days have passed, and my husband and I have managed to draw some conclusions:
1. It's stress. Yes. Every 5 minutes there's something new, you don't know how to handle it, and you start to worry. The most important thing here is not to snap at each other, but the opposite – to help and support each other through dialogue)
2. There are moments when you feel useless. At night, for example, my husband can't do much, and sometimes he sits there half-asleep and watches me feed her. In those moments, yes, he's useless – and I send him off to bed. But during the day, well-rested, he cooks for me, gives me time to sleep, to take a shower and so on – and then I'm the more useless one. If that word can even be used in a situation like this.
3. The hardest part is when you don't understand the cause of a problem. We have trouble with feeding, for example, and from that comes trouble with sleep. It's exhausting. Changing diapers, feeding and so on isn't hard. What's hard is feeding every half hour.
4. “Agree to any help,” they told me. And yes, it's the best advice. I bring in family, specialists, friends. Everyone helps in their own way.
5. Hormones. Oh gods, I've never had waves like these in my life. Crying every night? – ✅
Everything brings tears – tenderness, sadness, tiredness, fears and so on.
I would probably continue this list, but halfway through the post my brain forgot what it wanted to say.
That's another point, by the way: forgetting everything a second later – ✅

No Filters

2025-11-17T00:00:00Z

Bella wrote this on day three after an emergency C-section, and she warns you herself: maximally frank. The shaking, the pain that makes even crying hurt, the panic of a newborn lying on the bed of a mother who cannot sit up to reach her. She published it with photos – no filters, no ponies, no picture-perfect happy women.

The moment that stays with me is the paid night nursery. One night of help, so her body can knit itself back together – and she cries over accepting it, because the myth says a good mother suffers through. Coming Alive says what her tears couldn't yet: we cannot give from a self we have abandoned, and the steady warmth of someone actually home is worth more to a child than the frantic care of someone running on empty. Recovering is not abandoning. Allowing help is not failing. It's the opposite of both.

She asks for one thing only: that we stop pretending this is easy. Read it, and if someone you love is standing where she stood – be the support, not the audience.

🌸 Out in the open.
Today's post will be maximally frank. I had heard a lot about birth, about hormones, baby blues and depression. But what I went through – am going through – for me it's been an absolute fucking mess.
We originally planned to give birth naturally, but in the end it turned into an emergency C-section. The operation itself is bearable – it's the state afterward… For at least 3 hours I lay there shaking like an epileptic, my teeth chattering so hard I thought I'd bite off my tongue. We gave birth at 16:51, I was moved to the post-op ward around 19:00, the shaking stopped around 00:30, I could feel my legs at about 23:30. The whole night as if in delirium, on IVs, antibiotics and so on.
3 times a day they inject painkillers that make me cry – but crying hurts too. Injections into the stomach every morning.
Today is day three, and in the morning they took out the catheter and brought the baby, laid her on the bed to breastfeed for the first time. For the record, I can neither sit up nor stand. The baby is lying on the bed… I'm panicking. Then they handed me a bottle – I can't lift it, I can't sit up by myself, I call the nurses again. Somehow they took her and put her in her crib. Thank God a friend came by and helped me.
I got up somehow; walking hurts like hell, I can't even bend down to kiss my daughter. I can't breathe her in unless I pick her up. I changed her diaper for the first time and thought I'd collapse from the pain. I held out. She gives me strength.
Starting today the doctors don't take the baby anymore – she stays with you 24/7. And that stuns me even more. Goddamn it, I've had surgery! They cut open my STOMACH! They didn't remove a mole – they CUT OPEN MY STOMACH! 7 LAYERS! How am I supposed to get up all night alone to feed, wash, soothe, change her?
And here they offer a paid option: they can take the little one for the night. And what do you think? I'm sobbing that I'm a bad mother – that instead of suffering through the pain, I'm giving my child away for one more night so I can recover and give my daughter a healthy mom!
I cry every night… I want to go home, to my husband, to the cat. I want to be my daughter's mom, not suffer from pain. Every evening the thoughts and emotions come flooding in.
And I'm writing this not to get pity or sympathy, but simply to show that this process is not as easy as everyone says. That being pregnant, giving birth, being a mom is hard. And a woman needs support – especially from her partner.
If anyone ever asks me “when's the second one?” again –
my answer will be very harsh. We didn't want and don't want a second child. And a second C-section is something I'm especially not ready for.
All the photos were taken from the day of the operation until today. No filters, no ponies, no happy women.

Not a Punishment

2025-10-14T00:00:00Z

“Do bad and it comes back” – that's the karma most of us grew up with, a cosmic scorekeeper with a long memory. Bella takes three short paragraphs to put that version down.

Her reframing walks the same path as Karma on this site: in its original meaning karma is intentional action – every deed, word, and thought born of intention plants a seed, and seeds bear fruit when their time comes. Not retribution; the world's natural response. And she adds a strand I hadn't placed next to it before: the Jewish principle of measure for measure, where what returns comes with the chance to understand, to correct, to do differently. Return as invitation, not verdict.

It ends with the sowing hand, where the article ends too. What comes back is not the question. What we sow is.

🌸 Karma is not about punishment
Popularly, karma is known as: “do bad – and it comes back.” But karma really isn't about revenge; it's about the law of cause and effect.
In Buddhism, karma is every action, word, or thought born of intention. Everything we do creates seeds, and when the time comes, they bear fruit. Not retribution – the world's natural response.
In Judaism a similar meaning lives in the principle of “measure for measure”: our deeds return to us, but through the chance to realize, to correct, to do differently.
Karma is not about “punishment.”
It's about the fact that everything we radiate returns. And what exactly we sow depends only on us.

They Whisper Now

2025-09-29T00:00:00Z

Bella calls herself a neurotic and doesn't dress it up: panic attacks, then anxieties, and a state that spills over into control and a little perfectionism. Then she flips through the workbook she has kept for a year and a half – every fear that once devoured her, page after page. The proposal, the visa, the wedding. Not one of them came true.

What she found is the mechanism this site keeps circling: fear cannot be gotten rid of, but it can be stripped of its power. When Fear Returns exists exactly for that moment – trace the fear back to its root and find your way back to the lightness of your inner voice. Her version of the root is the same one: when she goes from the heart, on her own way, things fall into place; when ego and brain take over, the difficulties begin. And the same uncertain future that floods her with panic can be met with curiosity – one reality, opposite feelings.

It ends with the sentence that made me keep this post: the fears still come back, but they whisper now, they don't shout. That is not a cure. It's better – it's practice.

🌸 Fears
I'm a terrible neurotic. I don't know whether I was born this way or acquired it over the years, but it's a fact: I'm a genuine neurotic. I used to have severe panic attacks (thank God, we sorted those out), then came the anxieties. Easier than the panics, but also a “pleasure” well below average. And, of course, fears. All this neurotic state spills over into control and a little perfectionism.
I worked a lot with a psychologist to take my anxieties and fears apart. It turned out: getting rid of them completely is impossible. They're like herpes – once they've shown up, they're with you forever 😁 But you can take away their strength, strip them of their power.
That's exactly what I've been doing this past year – trying to strip my fears of their power, avada kedavra, so to speak ⚡
Probably everyone who has ever dealt with anxiety has heard the phrase: “99% of our fears never come true.” For half my life that sounded like mockery, not reality.
But recently I noticed something important. For the past year and a half I've been deep in spiritual practice, keeping a “workbook” where I wrote down my questions, fears, worries. And when I leafed through it, I saw how much used to torment me: does my man love me? will there be a proposal? will the wedding happen? will they give us the visa? will our marriage be recognized in Switzerland? will the translator show up at the wedding?
Back then those fears were eating me alive – and not one of them came true 🤷🏽‍♀️
And I understood: when I go from the heart and live by my own way, everything falls into place the way it should. When the ego and the brain switch on – that's when the difficulties start.
My husband and I were recently discussing: will we extend the visa for Russia, will the move work out, will the plans come together? For me it's instantly “what if not?!”, panic, feeling sick. And he looks at the same situation with curiosity and interest. One and the same reality – opposite feelings.
And here's the second phrase that used to drive me mad: “be in the now.”
Only recently did I truly feel it. I let go. I stopped thinking about what happens tomorrow, which country we'll live in, how it will all turn out. And for the first time in my life I feel this calm.
Of course, I'm not a robot and not a sorceress, and the fears sometimes come back. But they're not as strong and commanding anymore – they whisper, they don't shout.
And for me that is a huge personal achievement. Even though not long ago I thought it was impossible.

The World Answered

2025-09-25T00:00:00Z

Nine years, she writes – from 18 to 27 – in which the photos looked fine and the inside was a swamp: anger at a world that seemed not to love her, no self-worth left, suicidal thoughts – she names them plainly. Then a mentor appeared, and a path began.

What follows is her testimony, and it carries the whole arc of this site in one life: love the world, and it answers. On a feed that sentence is empty, and she says so herself; lived sincerely for five years, it stopped being a quote and became her life – the work that held, the family that changed, strangers who stop her on the street to talk. Somewhere along that path there are also amulets – never sold, born for the one who needs them. The Amulet of Love begins with the same claim: it asks nothing from you.

If this blog has a founding document, this post is it. Read her nine years first – the answer of the world weighs more when you know what it answered.

🌸 Why I created this channel
This post is a little longer than usual, but it matters to me to say why all of this is here. Maybe you'll recognize yourself in these lines.
From 18 to 27 my life was far from joy, though in photos and from the outside everything looked fine. Inside I was angry at the whole world. It seemed it didn't love me. I lived like a grump – with resentment, aggression, anger. In the village people hardly spoke to me, in the city nobody noticed me, and I wasn't looking for company myself. There were suicidal thoughts, a complete absence of self-worth, an unwillingness to accept myself. Sometimes I remember that time and think: why did I do that to myself? But back then I didn't ask myself such questions.
It was a swamp. Groundhog Day. The same situations over and over, and all of it brought only sadness, pain, and disappointment. I changed jobs every six months, relationships with men lasted a couple of months at most, and I felt like a failure.
And then a mentor appeared in my life. That's where my path began. Later came my husband's mentor. Books, the pendulum, practices, shamans, mentors, healers, self-knowledge, rituals. All of it became part of me.
Yes, it may sound banal: “retreats”, “spiritual path”, “practices”… It's everywhere now. But there's a difference between doing it “for Instagram” and it becoming the meaning of your life. For my husband and me it became exactly that – the meaning.
Of course, change doesn't come in one day. I've been walking this path for more than 5 years now, and I understand I'll be on it always, because it's impossible to know everything to the end.
But here's what I noticed: I came to love the world – and it answered me in kind.
First my career took off, I found myself in HR and for the first time stayed in one place not six months but 4 years!!! Then I met my future husband, and now we're expecting a baby 🥰
In the village someone is always talking to me now; my husband laughs: “It's impossible to just go out with you – someone will definitely stop you and ask you something.” In Moscow it's the same: strangers come up, talk, help.
My family changed: mom, dad, their relationship. My circle of friends became different: without toxicity, gossip, or dirt. These are people-family.
I want to say something separately about my husband. He makes amulets. Not for sale – they are born for those who truly need them. Friends come for them, people close to us, my mom, I do myself. And every amulet brings something of its own. To some it comes for a long time. For others it serves a very short while – but exactly in that moment it gives what was needed. And every time, seeing how it works, how it supports and changes, I can only smile.
And what's even more astonishing – the world seems to turn its face toward you. Kind people everywhere, help and acceptance everywhere, as if space itself had grown softer.
We often hear the banal phrases: “Trust.” “Love the world, and it will love you.” On social media they sound empty, even silly. But when you go into the practices sincerely, when you open your heart to the world – it stops being a pretty quote. It becomes your life.
That is exactly why I created this channel.
To share how love and trust, step by step, change us and the whole world around us. 🌿

I Understand You

2025-09-11T00:00:00Z

Bella asks a question this site circles constantly without ever asking it this directly: what is support? She has just walked through the answer from the receiving end – quitting smoking, a pregnancy, almost thirty kilos, a body that makes every day heavy. The rational comfort lines she can recite herself. They don't help.

The Healer tells of a healer who never once touched Elizabeth Gilbert's aching feet – and they stopped aching. Healing is not something one person does to another, and neither is support. Every “it doesn't matter” and “it will go away” tries, kindly, to fix – and lands as one more argument against what she feels. What actually helps grants the feeling its full right to exist: someone close enough, saying I understand you.

She wrote this two months before her daughter arrived. Keep the sentence – you will need it, in both directions.

🌸 Support
What is support?
Convincing you that you're wrong? Lifting your mood? Saying “you're doing great”? Or simply sitting down beside you and saying: “I understand you”?
After the wedding I quit smoking. IQOS and those awful vapes. The result – +18 kg. From my usual 50–52 I got to 68. And then I got pregnant right away, and the weight kept going. Right now I'm at 77 kg, there are still two months ahead, and in total I've gained almost 30 kg.
And yes, sometimes it floods over me.
It hurts that I'm not a “beautiful pregnant woman” – just an elephant. I'm out of breath, I get tired, I can barely walk, lying down is hard, sitting is uncomfortable. I oink, I puff, and I feel like one huge elephant.
My mind understands: everything is going as it should. I know I'll lose the weight after the birth. I know weight isn't what matters. But inside it still hurts so much that sometimes I just want to burst into tears.
And in moments like that I do NOT need “supportive” words –
“it doesn't matter”, “it'll go away later”, “at least you quit smoking”.
All that I know myself.
Sometimes I want only one thing:
for someone beside me to quietly say –
“I understand you.”

Two Hedgehogs

2025-09-07T00:00:00Z

The night of the lunar eclipse, Bella stood outside and made wishes – a small ritual, a quiet conversation with the Moon, as she calls it. Then two hedgehogs arrived. They stayed while the wishing lasted and left when it was done.

You can call that coincidence, and nothing here argues with you. A Radical Thought describes the same experience from the inside: when we begin to accept that there is more in life than we can see or control, the right people – or the right hedgehogs – tend to show up exactly when they are needed. Whether you believe in God, the universe, or nothing at all is not the point. The point is what the moment does to you.

For Bella it became a sign – protection, new life, everything going right. Ten lines, one evening. Take it as lightly as it was given.

🌙🦔
My husband and I managed to catch the lunar eclipse.
We stood, watched, and silently made wishes. It was our little ritual – a quiet conversation with the Moon.
And suddenly two little hedgehogs appeared beside us. They came up as if on purpose, and stayed near the whole time. And when we finished, they left as quietly as they had come.
For me it was a very symbolic moment. As if nature itself supported us that evening.
The Moon heard us, and the hedgehogs became a sign – of protection, of new life, and of everything going right. ✨

Thanks, We'll Manage

2025-09-06T00:00:00Z

Bella is about to become a mom, and the advice has already started arriving – posts, stories, other people's experience, everyone certain about the right way. Her preparation isn't a stroller brand. It's one sentence, ready for use: thank you, we'll manage.

The heart of the post is the cage. The world seems to hold a rule that once a child is born, life is over – and Bella watches parents lock that cage themselves, out of fear: never leave the baby, never rest, never hand anything over. Fear and Control names the mechanism – you never had control; all you had was anxiety – and her way out is the same one: let go of the “right way”, hold the boundary politely and firmly, and trust your own. A mother who sleeps, breathes, and loves this world gives her child more than one who burns herself out proving devotion.

None of it is theory – it's a diaper, food, love, and a grandmother nearby. A boundary drawn in advance, with a smile. Let her draw it.

🌸 Boundaries
Very soon our little daughter will join our family.
I read posts and stories, I watch other people's experience – and all of it makes me think and prepare.
The first thing I told my husband:
“Once our daughter is here, we'll be defending our boundaries 24/7.”
Because there will be far too many advisers on “how to do it right” 🤭 And we'll have to learn to answer politely but firmly: “Thank you, we'll manage.”
And I've noticed one more thing. The world seems to hold a “rule”: that once a child is born, life is over. That what comes next is only a cage.
My husband and I discuss this often. And I understand more and more: it all depends on the parents.
Very many parents put themselves in the cage.
They're afraid to leave the child with grandma, or even with the husband. They think they have to be with the baby 24/7.
And God forbid a mom trusts the child to its dad – the “cuckoo” label lands instantly.
But the truth is, a child needs very little:
a clean diaper, food, and love.
And it's far better if the one nearby is a mom who sleeps, breathes, smiles, and loves this world – than one who never rests, wears herself out, and slowly burns out.
And recently I heard a very right phrase:
dad is not mom's helper. He is just as much a full parent.
So why can a child be left with mom without any questions, but with dad – suddenly it's a problem?

Nothing Lost

2025-08-28T00:00:00Z

Ten minutes of shorts was all it took. A stranger's gender party, a stranger's diet, a stranger's birth story – and Bella caught herself mid-scroll with a question most of us never stop to ask: why do I need to know this?

Her answer cuts two ways. The endless urge to share, she suspects, comes from the ego – look what I ate, where I went, what I bought. And the endless watching costs the watcher: the moment spent filming is a moment lost, a hundred photos deep. Coming Alive says the same thing from the other side – we become scattered and thin when we tend every life but our own, and the way back is humble: close the door, feel your own heartbeat. What is shared from fullness gives; what is shared to prove drains.

Two months earlier she got off the needle – readers of this blog watched her decide. This is the report from the other side: honestly, nothing lost. Rather the opposite.

🌸 Why do I need to know this?
Ten minutes ago I was flipping through shorts on YouTube.
Someone's talking about a gender party, a man shares the story of how he lost weight, a girl talks about giving birth.
And I suddenly caught myself thinking:
why do I need to know this?
I have absolutely no interest in how a random person from a screen lives their life.
Childhood came to mind: the most we ever saw was MTV, showing how very famous people lived. But even then, that information gave us little.
And I started wondering – where does this endless urge to share come from?
Most likely – from the ego.
To show: look, I ate something tasty, went to the sea, bought something new.
But in fact – most people don't give a shit how anyone lives, forgive my bluntness. Everyone has their own business, their own cares and worries.
We talk to each other less. No point calling to ask “how are you?” when you can see it all on Instagram.
We meet less often.
We live the moment less – because first you have to take 100 photos and 200 videos. And by the time the shoot is over, the moment itself is already lost.
We're losing touch with nature, with the real.
More and more – in technology and hurry.
And once again I'm convinced: technology gives us a lot of good, and takes away no less.
I've been living without Instagram for two months now. And honestly, I've lost nothing. If anything, I've gained.

Stability Doesn't Exist

2025-08-14T00:00:00Z

A loud claim, and Bella doesn't apologize for it. Her definition deserves to be quoted: stability is an illusion born of the fear of controlling everything – the self-deception that you govern part of your life, or all of it. The steady job can end three ways before breakfast; the same goes for friendships, hobbies, life itself.

That's the spiral from Fear and Control in one paragraph. But her landing goes further than debunking: instead of chasing the myth, learn to be steady inside – and meet change with an open heart. The Universal Principle of Balance calls that the center: not a fixed state to hold, but an equilibrium that restores itself when you stop gripping.

Life hits hard sometimes and wraps you in warmth at other times, she writes – and exactly that is its value. Amor Fati, in her own dialect.

🌸 Stability doesn't exist
A loud claim, I won't argue. But let's look at what “stability” is.
Stability is an illusion born of the fear of controlling everything. It's the self-deception that you govern part of your life – or even all of it.
For example, a person wants stability in the form of a steady source of income. They find a job and “gain their stability.” But is it real? The company can be shut down, they can be laid off, and they themselves may one day want to walk away from it all. Turns out it's not so stable after all.
The same goes for friends, hobbies, and life itself. However you live, there will be rises and falls, grief and joy, heavy moments and incredibly happy ones.
“Stability” as such does not exist. There is simply life – with its surprises, trials, and gifts. Sometimes it hits painfully, and sometimes it wraps you in warmth and joy. And exactly in that lies its value.
So maybe, instead of chasing the myth of stability, we should learn to be steady within ourselves – to meet change with an open heart and with trust that everything goes the way it should.

Our Tomorrow

2025-08-09T00:00:00Z

Bella starts with fairness, not accusation: her generation was raised by people surviving the 90s, who were themselves raised harder still – no therapists, no “boundaries,” soup down the collar in kindergarten. Everyone got their portion of wounds from the old ways. That, she says plainly, is a fact.

Then comes the fork that gives this post its spine: you can spend a life seated in that fact, passing responsibility and blaming everyone around – or accept that yes, the mark remains, and take your own life in hand. That's acceptance the way this site means it – never resignation, but the soil change grows in. A Place to Go walks the same release: judgment and limitation set down, freedom stepped into.

Her last sentence is eleven words and carries everything. Read it standing up.

🌸 Passing on responsibility
I'm a child born in the 90s. Generation Y. We were raised as best they could – because they didn't know how to do it “right,” because the rules were different, because in the 90s everyone survived as best they could. There was no time or possibility to sit with a latte and see a psychologist. Those were the times.
Our parents were raised harder still, stricter still – also without any “psychologists” or “boundaries.” If in my mom's childhood a kindergarten teacher could pour soup down your collar or hit your hands with a ruler, today they wouldn't just be fired for that – they'd be sued.
Times change. And with them, upbringing changes, and whole generations. But there is one important thought: we all received our portion of wounds from the old ways and old views. That is a fact.
And from there we have a choice:
– to sit in place all our lives, passing on responsibility and blaming everyone around for our wounds, justifying our failures and misfortunes with them;
– or to accept that yes – the mark remains, but now we ourselves can take up our life and change it the way we want.
The responsibility for our “tomorrow” lies on no one but us.

What Resonates

2025-07-25T00:00:00Z

This one is Bella in manifesto mode – no story, no scene, just conviction distilled: if you feel you must, it may already not be your way. The frames imposed by family, society, fear and duty taught us that our real self is somehow wrong from the start – and it's the other way around.

Her test for any action is worth carrying in a pocket: where does it come from? Fear and guilt disqualify; wanting qualifies. Karma unpacks the same law from its origin – karma not as cosmic bookkeeping but as intentional action, where the source of the act shapes the one who acts. What you do from fear feeds fear. What you do because it's yours sets you free.

Two minutes, one sentence to keep: that is freedom. That is the return to yourself.

🌸 The old no longer works in the new.
Enough living by the principle “I must, because…”. If you feel obligated – then it's already not your way. The world is changing, and you no longer need to bend yourself to “fit in.” Instead – be yourself and follow what truly resonates with you.
We have lived too long inside frames imposed by family, society, fears, a sense of duty. We were taught that “money matters more than you,” that “everything must be like this,” that “there's no other way.” It creates an inner conflict – as if your real “I” were wrong from the very start.
In truth, it's the other way around. When you cross into a new state – into another dimension of perception – the old rules lose their meaning. You no longer need to fight, to prove, to suffer in order to be yourself.
💬 Do what resonates. Not out of fear. Not out of guilt. But because you want it. Because it is – yours.
That is freedom. That is the return to yourself.

Not by the Manual

2025-07-17T00:00:00Z

At ten she joined a dance school and memorized every move exactly as taught – and couldn't understand why the front row went to girls who danced imprecisely: smoother here, their own way there, with a “mistake.” Then she saw it. They danced with their hearts.

Years later the same lesson returned in her spiritual work: exercises from mentors and healers, followed step by step, didn't work – until she stopped asking “is this correct?” and started asking “does this serve, does it respond?” The Healer tells the same discovery from another life: no one can do the healing to you, and no teacher's steps replace your own. You take the base – and live it through yourself.

Her inner straight-A student still protests sometimes. She hears herself more often. That's the whole practice.

🌸 Not by the manual
There's a feeling that from childhood on we're taught to be “straight-A students.”
To do everything by the manual. Precisely. Correctly. As “one should.”
I was about 10 when they enrolled me in Todes, the dance school. I danced there for some five years.
Everyone fought for the front line.
I memorized every movement. Exactly like the teacher. Move for move.
And I couldn't understand – why were the front rows given to girls who danced imperfectly? Smoother in places. Their own way in places. In places with a “mistake.”
And then I understood.
They dance with the heart.
Yes, they know the base. But into every dance they put themselves. A bit more flirtation. A softer turn. A little air in the movement.
I noticed something similar in spiritual work.
When I found exercises from mentors, from healers – I tried to do everything to the letter. By the steps. By the rules.
And honestly, it didn't always work.
Until the realization came: it's not about “correct.”
The point is that it serves you. That it responds.
You take the base – but live it in your own way.
There is no perfect movement. There is no single right way.
Each of us will do it differently.
Through ourselves. With our own hands. Our own body. Our own heart.
And yes, that inner “straight-A student” of mine still gets indignant sometimes.
But more and more often I hear myself.
And I choose to do it my way. The way that's comfortable. The way that brings me joy.
And this applies to anything we take on.
Dance, work, creativity, cleaning, cooking, the way of self-discovery –
don't be afraid to add a piece of yourself to anything you do.

Sitting on Clouds

2025-07-08T00:00:00Z

Bella has dreamed all her life – toys, Spain, a boy named Alyoshka – and defended that dreaming half of herself even next to a more grounded husband. Then, one night, she caught something quietly missing: she had stopped. Not out of boredom. Out of a feeling of not deserving it – not deserving the dreams, not even deserving to dream.

The middle-of-the-night question that broke it open is the one this site keeps asking: why not? Worth isn't earned by years worked or things achieved – the Amulet of Love page says it without conditions: you are loved unconditionally, and nothing about the asking has to be earned. Her answer arrives like sunrise: I deserve. We all deserve. And nobody but ourselves can take that right away.

Her closing logic is bulletproof. Read it before you shelve your own cloud.

🌸 Sitting on clouds is not a crime ☁️✨
All my life I've loved to dream.
As a child – about toys and friends. Later – about a car, an apartment, a life in Spain. I dreamed of getting married, of having a boy named Alyoshka. Dreams were always with me.
And then I met my husband. I'm a lover of sitting on clouds. He's more down-to-earth. But I always defended my part, the one that knows how to dream.
After all, it makes things worse for no one. So why not?
Recently I had a meeting with a spiritual person. And as all of it slowly digested… I suddenly understood: I had stopped dreaming.
Not because it wasn't interesting.
But because, somehow… I hadn't earned it.
Hadn't earned my dreams coming true. Hadn't earned even dreaming.
It was a strange mixture of the fear of losing everything – and the feeling that it's “not for me.”
But that night, lying in bed, I suddenly thought:
Why? Why don't I deserve to dream?
I dream of a house for my husband and me. Why can't I have a house?
I dream of a trip to the sea. Why, after working so many years, haven't I earned that?
It was like a light going on.
I – deserve. We all deserve.
And no one but ourselves can take this right away from us – the right to dream.
From today on – I dream.
Yes, we will have a house.
Our little girl will have her own room. And someday it will remain hers – as a piece of love from us.
There will be the sea. A move. Work. Hobbies. Everything we want.
Dreaming doesn't hurt.
We do no one any harm, sitting on our cloud.
A dream is strength. It's movement. It's inner light.
What's the worst that can happen?
That the dream doesn't come true?
So be it.
And what if it comes true – better than we ever imagined?

A Letter from Love

2025-07-04T00:00:00Z

Bella went back to Elizabeth Gilbert's letters – yes, the Eat Pray Love one – and found the one written in the voice of Love itself. What moved her is what moves this whole site: Love has no improvement plan for you. It doesn't need you stronger or more successful. It says, calmly: you are already enough.

Coming Alive was born from those same letters, and Bella's reading lands on the same freeing lines: you are not lost, you are not late, there hasn't been a single wrong turn. You're allowed to stop trying so hard – there's nothing to prove and no one to race.

Her image for the realization is the truest one: a deep breath. Take the three minutes; the exhale comes included.

Recently I was rereading Elizabeth Gilbert's letters – yes, that Elizabeth Gilbert, from Eat, Pray, Love. And one of them, a letter written in the name of Love itself, touched me deeply.
Love – as Elizabeth Gilbert describes it – sets itself no goal of changing us or making us “better.” It doesn't need us to be stronger, more productive, or more successful. Instead it speaks with quiet certainty: You are already enough.
Love assures us: you are not alone – and never were. It invites us to let go of guilt, to stop trying so hard, and to remember that we have nothing to prove – and we are competing with no one.
One of the most freeing messages goes like this: You are not lost. You are not late. You are exactly where you should be, at exactly the right time, doing exactly what is needed. There has not been a single wrong turn. The realization feels like a deep breath – a reminder that we are already in the stream of life.

Without Frames

2025-07-03T00:00:00Z

A fidgeting girl in a 90s classroom – running, laughing, spinning a pen – and that was enough to be filed under “bad children.” Teachers didn't like her. Her friends' mothers predicted cigarettes and a teenage pregnancy. She's 33 now, expecting her first child, wanted and chosen. They guessed a little wrong.

Her question cuts to the root: who decided what a girl, a woman, a person should be – and why is being yourself almost always a protest? Nobody demands you change your height or your eye color, but “don't fidget” passes as reasonable, though that too is part of her. This site's opening page answers with its one sentence: your way is the way. We are all different, and that is our strength.

Her landing is worth keeping whole: to live in respect – but without frames.

🌸 Being yourself, or being who you're “supposed” to be
When I was little, I was diagnosed with ADHD. It's astonishing that in the 90s anyone even managed to recognize it in a girl. The doctors suggested pills, but my mom was against it.
How did my diagnosis show itself? I was simply an active, cheerful child. I ran, jumped, played, laughed. Didn't fight, didn't bite, wasn't rude. I just couldn't sit still. Even in class – I fidgeted, twirled my pen, jiggled my leg. And that was enough to have me filed under “bad children.” Teachers didn't like me. My friends' moms – didn't either.
They said I was a “bad influence.” That I would surely start smoking and “come home pregnant at 16.” Spoiler: I'm 33 now, and this is my first pregnancy – wanted and conscious. They guessed a little wrong. 😊
Back then I was simply “inconvenient.” Not the way one “should” be. Not quiet, not settled, not like everyone else.
And so I grow up – and keep going against the system. Everyone goes to see Spider-Man – I don't. Everyone reads the fashionable book – I read one nobody has heard of. Not out of spite. Simply because I feel differently.
And all this time I hear:
“You're loud,”
“You're too noisy,”
“Speak more quietly,”
“Sit still.”
Why does it occur to no one to say: “Why are you so short?” or “Why are your eyes green and not brown?”
But saying “stop fidgeting,” “stop making noise” – that's allowed.
And yet that, too, is part of me.
So I wonder: where do all these frames come from? Who even invented what a girl, a woman, a person is supposed to be? Why do we keep trying to squeeze ourselves into them? Why is being yourself almost always a protest?
But perhaps the most important thing we can learn – and teach our children:
we are all different, and that is our strength.
We don't have to be “convenient” or “proper.”
We need to be ourselves.
And to live – in respect. But without frames.

As It Should Be

2025-07-02T00:00:00Z

Nine years ago the panic attacks began – calling her mom ten times a day just to survive, a hospital, the numb half-life after it, years of asking the world: why me? Why can everyone else go to the movies and travel while I stand in the shadow?

Then the chain becomes visible, link by link: pandemic, an empty office, a computer game started out of sheer boredom – and through the game, her husband. Her verdict is Amor Fati word for word, and she earns it the hard way: if living through all of it again were the price for this person, this happiness – yes, I agree. Nothing happens for no reason; the hard stretches teach, transform, direct.

Not a philosophy borrowed from the Stoics – a receipt from her own life. That's why it convinces.

🌸 Everything is as it should be.
About 9 years ago I started having severe panic attacks. I was literally losing my mind: at work I'd call my mom 10 times a day, step out into the corridor just to survive. The way home was torture. Then came an unsuccessful psychologist – and it only got worse. I was already looking for a hypnotist when, by a lucky accident, someone recommended a psychiatrist.
I was hospitalized, then became a “little bush” – that's when you seem to live but don't live. And gradually I began to come back. Five years later I realized I was still on medication, life was still hemmed in, and I finally went to therapy – the very therapy I should have started right after the hospital.
Then the pandemic struck. I commuted to work, sat alone in the office for 8 hours and… out of boredom started playing CS. Just to keep from going crazy.
And back then, for years, I railed at this world. Why is all this happening to me? Why can't I simply go to the movies, walk with my girlfriends, take a trip? Why does everyone around me live, while I stand as if in the shadow?
It was especially hard because I'm a very alive person. I always need people, movement, impressions. And here – loneliness. Fear. Silence.
But now I understand:
it was exactly because of the pandemic and that strange office job that I started playing.
And because of the game – I met my husband.
And if I had to live through it all again for this – yes, I agree. For such a person. For such happiness.
Nothing happens just like that.
Hardships teach us, transform us, direct us.
Sometimes we don't understand why this is happening now,
but a little later it becomes clear – everything is as it should be. Every hard situation, even one that seems to have no way out, leads us toward something better.

The Shadow

2025-06-27T00:00:00Z

This post has no lesson at the end, and that's why it belongs here. Bella lost her job the moment she learned she was pregnant – on paper, a gift of free time; in practice, a slow slide into emptiness. Chores on autopilot, books irritating, everyone else's life seemingly boiling while hers stands still. Her word for it is exact: a shadow.

She doesn't diagnose it – hormones, depression, or simply a season, she honestly doesn't know. What she does is rarer: she describes it truthfully and keeps two sentences within reach – I believe I'll get through, and everything passes. The Creative Process says where such stretches belong: the fog and the empty days are not gaps in the process. They are the process. Something is ripening in them, invisibly.

If you've ever stood in that fog, this post will feel like company. That's all it promises – and it's a lot.

🌸 The shadow
Sometimes life leads us into situations where everything seems mistimed. You think: if only this had happened a little earlier or a little later – it would have been easier, clearer, more right.
I lost my job at exactly the moment I learned I was pregnant.
And on one hand – that's good, isn't it? I can fully live this period, feel the changes, listen to my body, sleep as much as I want. And above all – no stress from work.
But on the other – I've worked all my life. Almost without breaks. Only the pandemic and rare stretches of illness ever stopped me.
And now it's as if I'm on maternity leave, but the “mom duties” haven't started yet.
So here I am – home alone. No work, no tasks, no company.
At first it was fine – the nausea and sleepiness kept me busy. Then it was even good – cooking, cleaning, reading, watching something light.
And then – emptiness.
All the chores on autopilot. Books irritate me. Series have gone stale.
It seems everyone around you has a life that's boiling, and you've frozen still. You are – a shadow.
Interest in everything disappears. No wish for friends, no wish to go outside. The body is stone, eyes full of tears, inside – apathy and silence.
As if the fire has gone out.
As if you're the shadow of a person who lost her I somewhere.
And beside me – a loving husband, care, support… And joy – none.
I don't know how to find the way out.
Maybe it's hormones. Maybe depression.
Maybe it's simply a season like this.
But right now – it's heavy. Very.
I believe I'll get through. Everything passes.
But right now… I am – in the shadow.

Off the Needle

2025-06-21T00:00:00Z

Bella decides fast – except for the decisions that ripen. Quitting smoking took half a year of inner ripening before it happened at all; a year later, it holds. This post catches the next one mid-ripening: leaving the scroll.

Two signals made the choice for her. Her body's – real panic from flipping reels, a racing heart she has learned to read. And the alarm bell: the mere thought of deleting the app triggered fear. Nobody fears deleting the weather app. Surrender & Decision describes choices like this one – conscious, felt, free – and hers comes with the most honest of reasons: she's about to become an example to someone, and wants to show a world that is real, alive, and warm, not just say it.

She's clear it won't be easy, and doesn't pretend otherwise. That's what makes the last line trustworthy: it's already a way to freedom.

🌸 The forbidden-gram.
I've always made decisions quickly. But sometimes one of them ripens inside for a long time. As if the soul is tuning itself, gathering weight…
That's how it was with smoking – the idea of quitting ripened for half a year. And now it's been a year since I smoked.
And now I feel a new decision has been ripening in me.
The forbidden-gram.
I think all of us, opening it, have started the comparison at least once:
I'm not that thin, not that smart, not that rich, the chest isn't right, no success, too few likes…
And I began to notice that just from flipping through reels I get real panic – my heart pounds, anxiety rises.
Recently I listened to the comedian Sergey Orlov – he said an important thing: because of short reels and the constant switching of content, children (and not only children) are developing ADHD more and more often. I've had it since childhood. And now I feel it sharpening again.
I won't even start on the million pieces of “advice”: how to eat, how to train your glutes, how to get rich in 5 steps. Half of these “experts” are self-taught, doing more harm than good.
But behind that pretty storefront stands an enormous machine – psychologists, behavioral specialists, UX designers. They know exactly how to hook you. How to make you stay. How to keep us on this needle.
And I'm about to become a mom.
I'll become an example.
I don't want to sit in the forbidden-gram while telling my daughter it's bad.
I want to show her.
Show her that the world beyond the screen is real, alive, warm.
You know what the last straw was?
The mere thought of deleting the app triggered panic.
Withdrawal.
Fear.
And yet I'm not afraid to delete my mail or, say, the weather app. But this – fear.
And that's a bell. A loud one.
So I made the decision: to get off this needle.
It won't be easy. I'll find myself temporary substitutes, of course. But they won't be as toxic.
And that is already a way to freedom.

Forbidden Feelings

2025-06-13T00:00:00Z

Five months pregnant, the hormones finally spoke up, and a viscous, causeless sadness moved in. Bella recognized it immediately. The hard part wasn't the sadness – it was getting permission to have it. Loss, illness, dismissal: grief approved. No reason? “Everything's fine with you, what are you whining about?”

That inner rulebook is exactly what The Blind Spot maps: we sort our feelings into the welcomed and the banished, and the banished ones don't leave – they just go underground. Her hormones make the case better than any argument: they don't read the gratitude list. Some things in us are simply natural, and resisting them is the only losing move.

She ends by turning the question to you: what do you not allow yourself – even when you badly want to? Sit with that one.

🌸 Forbidden rules
The deeper I go into spiritual work, the more I notice how the world around me responds. Nature, intuition, inner sensations – everything joins into one whole. And more and more often, the examples I feel come exactly from there.
Now, in the fifth month of pregnancy, my hormones have finally made themselves known. For the first time in all this time, a melancholy washed over me. That light, viscous sadness where you don't know what to do with yourself, you want to cry, and it seems you're the unhappiest person in the world.
Everyone, I think, has felt that unexpected, uninvited melancholy at least once. I understood right away – this is it. But accepting it, allowing myself to “just be sad for no reason” – that was the harder part.
Because how does it go with us? If a tragedy has happened – then you may. A loss, a dismissal, an illness – then sadness is permissible. But just like that, without a cause? Shameful. “Everything's fine with you, what are you whining about?” – that inner voice can always be found.
But my hormones – they don't care what's on my gratitude list. They have their own chemistry, their own waves, and they need no explanation. They simply came – and that's that. It's sad. And how can I resist something that is natural in me?
And I started wondering: how many of these “forbidden” rules are inside us? When it's allowed, when it's not. When feeling is – permitted. And when it's already “being spoiled.”
Have you noticed such prohibitions in yourself? What do you not allow yourself – even when you really want to?

Hearing Yourself

2025-06-11T00:00:00Z

“Hear yourself” sounds banal, and Bella says so in her first line – we talk to the voice in our head all day. She means the other one: the quiet knowing that registers within seconds of walking into a room, before a single argument has been made.

Her example is the whole mechanism in miniature: you feel it immediately – leave, or stay – and then the mind arrives with “you have to,” “it would be awkward,” and the signal slips back into the shadow. Examples of Letting Go or Choosing works through exactly this: ordinary situations, and the inner signals that tell you what's true right now. The compass exists in everyone. The practice is noticing it – and daring to trust it.

She's honest about the price: silence inside, courage, sometimes risk. And about the return: life changes – quietly, deeply, radically.

🌸 Hearing yourself
“Hear yourself” – sounds banal.
It seems we hear ourselves 24/7.
That inner voice – we talk with it all day long.
How could you not hear it?
But in truth, hearing yourself
means more than just “hearing the voice in your head.”
It's about intuition.
About inner instinct.
About that quiet part of us
which always knows, but almost never shouts.
Everyone has this feeling.
Just not everyone knows how to notice it.
And not everyone knows how to trust it.
You walk into a meeting –
and within the first seconds you feel:
you want to leave. Or the opposite – to stay.
That is your inner knowing.
But the mind interferes at once:
“You have to,”
“It's expected,”
“It would be awkward”…
And the intuition retreats into the shadow again.
How often have you felt it?
A small warning. A sign.
We live from the mind so much of the time.
And we all know what comes of that 😅
Living by listening to yourself isn't easy.
It takes silence inside.
Courage. Trust.
Sometimes – even risk.
But if you begin… Life changes.
Quietly, deeply, radically.

Three Wishes

2025-05-30T00:00:00Z

A bedtime question: if the genie came tonight, what would you wish for? Her husband thinks and says – nothing. And Bella realizes: nothing either. Then she does what she does best – takes the answer apart honestly instead of leaving it sounding wise.

Every wish she tries on breaks something: bind the future and you may be trapped by it; remove all hardship and you remove the lessons; rewrite the past and you lose the present you love. What's left is the sentence this site calls the working antidote to fear: no desired outcome. A Radical Thought walks the same ground – life carries more than our plans for it, and surrender is what lets it.

Two people wishing for nothing because it's already good – that's not resignation. That's arrival. Pass the lamp on.

🌸 Three wishes
As children we all dreamed of finding the magic lamp. Rub it – and a genie grants three wishes. We rewatched the fairy tales, made up what we'd ask for… and every time the wishes were new. They changed with age, with pain, with joy, with experience.
I confess – I fantasized often too. And recently, before sleep, I asked my husband:
– If you had three wishes right now – what would you ask for?
He thought and answered:
– Nothing. And you?
And I realized – nothing either.
Sounds silly? Maybe. But let me try to explain.
Imagine the butterfly effect. One wish can pull a chain of changes behind it… and you're no longer you.
Wish to be with my husband all my life? What if at some point I fall out of love – but stay bound by that wish?
Immortality? I'm not sure I want to live forever.
Lots of money? What's the point of living when there's nothing left to reach for? Where's the growth, where's the way?
I started thinking of kind wishes: world peace, health, happiness for everyone… but what if, removing all the hardships, we remove the lessons too? Would the world really become better?
There was the thought of changing the past. But then I wouldn't have arrived at what I have now. And now – is good. I love this moment. Myself. Us. My way.
Probably, if I did have three wishes – I'd give them away. To my child – with the request to walk their own way, with their own mistakes, but without the pain that breaks. To my family – to be honest with each other. To myself – simply to be.
But… we're already doing all of that.
So if a genie ever does come to me – I'll just smile. And pass the lamp on.

Living Silence

2025-05-28T00:00:00Z

Sometimes nothing moves. No progress, no signs, no change – the world seems stopped, and we with it. Bella's answer is an image you can actually use: sit on a bench at the edge of the forest and watch. First everything looks frozen. Then a squirrel runs by, a drop slides off a leaf, a butterfly lands.

That's principle seven of this whole way, in her own words: the still stretch isn't a gap in the process – it is the process, and something is already happening in it. Surfing the Ocean of Truth says it with waves: between them, standing on the board is pointless – you wait, and the waiting belongs to the riding.

Three minutes of reading, one bench for later. Trust the silence.

🌸 The silence in which everything is alive.
Sometimes it seems to us the world has stopped.
Nothing is happening. We've frozen.
We're lost.
But silence is not emptiness.
It is simply another rhythm.
If you sit on a bench by the forest and just look around –
at first it seems everything has gone still.
But there – a squirrel ran past.
There – a drop slid off a leaf.
There – a butterfly landed on a blade of grass.
The processes go on.
Life hasn't stopped.
It continues – quietly, in its own way.
It's the same inside us.
Even when it seems everything has frozen,
that nothing is changing –
in truth something is already happening.
We don't always see it with our eyes.
But the soul knows.
Sometimes all that's needed
is simply to sit down on that inner bench
and trust the silence.

With Trembling Hands

2025-05-18T00:00:00Z

This is the heaviest post on this blog, and Bella wrote it from the middle, not after: death arrived in her circle, and with it every fear stood up at once – fear of death, fear of life, fear for her husband's breathing at night, for her parents, for the child inside her.

She doesn't resolve it, and that's the honesty of it. What she holds instead is a direction: sit, breathe, be silent, give it space – and walk toward the way out, step by step. Amor Fati says the hard version of the same thing: loving your fate doesn't mean liking what happens. It means not turning away from it – because acceptance, not resignation, is where the weight starts to move.

If it's heavy for you right now, this one is for you. Trembling hands still count as walking.

🌸 If it's heavy for you right now
Life.
We live – and sometimes we don't notice certain things.
Until they're lit up for us.
You can live a whole life married, thinking you're happy,
until you see it from the outside –
and suddenly understand: all this time you were deeply unhappy.
Or the opposite – you become certain you made the right choice.
You can think you don't want children,
until your friends start giving birth –
and you realize you do.
Badly.
I had a period of panic attacks.
I was even hospitalized.
Then spent a long time coming back to myself.
The anxiety is still near –
but by now I sort of live with it.
Got used to it.
Though of course I'd like to be rid of this engulfing feeling.
My life seemed to be evening out.
Calm and a certain confidence
knocked on my door more and more often…
Until the “lighting up” came.
When death comes –
it strikes. Swings from the shoulder.
And it doesn't matter whether it's sudden or you were supposedly ready for “that news” – it deafens you all the same.
It gets frightening.
Helplessness arrives.
A wave washes over you: nothing is forever.
There is no control. We are all vulnerable.
And along with that, every fear rises.
Fear of death. Fear of life.
Fear for the people close to you.
Fear for yourself.
At night I listen for whether my husband is breathing beside me.
I check on my parents constantly.
I worry about how the child inside me is feeling.
I feel nauseous.
I feel awful inside.
I feel weak.
I'm a little stuck.
But I know – soon there's a session with my psychiatrist.
I know – I'll sit down and breathe. Be silent.
Try to connect with the universe.
Give myself space.
For now it's simply heavy.
I'm not writing this to be pitied.
I'm writing to remind you –
sometimes it gets very frightening.
Unbearable. It seems there's no way out. That you're stuck.
But there is one. Always.
The main thing is to walk toward it.
Step by step.
Even with trembling hands.

Happy Out Loud

2025-05-10T00:00:00Z

Bella found out she was pregnant and wanted to tell the whole world – and immediately met the rule: not yet. Wait three months. Don't tempt fate. Her mother's generation would wait until the birth.

Under the custom she finds three fears doing the actual work: fear of the evil eye, fear of judgment, fear that joy will have to be paid for with pain. Fear and Control names that mechanism precisely – expectation of loss grabbing the wheel long before anything is lost. And the DNA of this whole site pushes the other way: what fills you wants to be shared, and when it stays hidden, fear is usually holding it.

Her list of what her husband does when the hormones storm is the happiest passage on this blog. She shared it anyway. That's the point.

☀️ Share your smile…
When I found out I was pregnant,
I wanted to tell the whole world.
Since childhood I have adored children.
At one point I even dreamed of becoming a nanny – though later I changed my mind. But I always knew that one day I'd be a mom.
I didn't think it would happen at 33,
or rather almost at 34…
but still – it happened.
And I wanted to share this happiness. But you're not allowed to.
Why – I didn't understand right away.
Turns out you have to wait three months to make sure everything is fine.
And only then may you tell people “officially.”
But I wouldn't be me
if I hadn't told my girls almost immediately.
And a little later, once the first trimester ended – everyone.
For my mom this was strange. She's from another generation.
For her, telling people about a pregnancy before the birth is almost against the rules of life.
And that's when I started wondering:
why do we share sadness so easily, and joy with such difficulty?
In our culture, sharing the good isn't done.
We fear the evil eye.
We fear disapproval.
We fear that after joy, pain is sure to follow.
As I wrote in one of my earlier posts – all through my youth there were men beside me who didn't love me, didn't respect me. And I didn't much value myself either.
But then – my person came.
When the hormones are storming – he suggests food, or flying off on a vacation.
When I'm nauseous – he brings tea, tucks me under a blanket.
When the toxicosis was bad – he cooked, cleaned, fed the cat.
He is care, support, solid ground.
My husband. My partner. My love.
And what – I'm not allowed to share that either?
Because someone will judge.
Because someone envies.
Because you can't be happy out loud?
Why are we afraid to share the good?
Why don't we know how to be glad for others?
And what if we learned?

100 Wishes

2025-05-08T00:00:00Z

A hundred wishes, written out in detail – not “a phone” but the exact model, storage, color. Bella's mentor gave her that assignment in 2019. A few weeks ago she found a blank form and wrote the list again – and almost nothing from the old one survived.

The exercise itself is manifestation practice in its plainest form, and the Manifest guide on this site walks the same road: name what you long for precisely, then listen to where it comes from. That's the part her two lists make visible – the 2019 wishes were pleasant and outer; the 2025 ones grew from a different soil. Not because wanting a handbag is wrong, but because her question changed: what actually stays?

Her closing question is worth sitting with longer than a purchase lasts.

💫 100 wishes. Then and now.
About 7 years ago, small things made me happy.
Or, more precisely, it seemed like they did.
Maybe it's age.
Or maybe – the fruits of inner work.
Most likely, both together.
But more and more often I notice how my priorities are changing.
My wishes. My understanding of happiness.
In 2019 my then mentor asked me to write a list – 100 wishes.
At first it seemed: easy!
But by the 30th it got hard.
And one more condition – describe each wish in detail.
Not just “an iPhone” but, say: iPhone 15 Pro Max, 216 GB, in pink.
I wrote. A lot.
Sadly, that list didn't survive the move,
but some of the wishes I remember to this day.
And now – 2025.
A couple of weeks ago I found a blank form for 100 wishes. And decided to write it again.
And I was struck
by how much my wishes had changed.
In 2019 it was:
a handbag, boots, jewelry, trips, gadgets.
Pleasant, material things.
Nothing wrong with them – but all of it outer.
And in 2025 – something else entirely.
A home of our own. Health.
A deep understanding of myself.
Spiritual growth.
Love.
Contact with myself and with the world.
And I began to wonder:
what is happiness – for me?
A new handbag, whose joy lives a couple of days?
Or the calm that lives inside
and makes every day – light and real?

Not a Lion

2025-05-07T00:00:00Z

Nature documentaries again – and again they carry more than they promise. A lion is built for the hunt: night vision, fangs, the whole body an instrument. The wildebeest is not. And the wildebeest, Bella notices, never once asks why it isn't a lion.

We do, constantly – comparing, refitting ourselves to expectations, filing ourselves under “not enough.” Her answer is the sentence this site repeats until it's believed: being yourself is already enough. Coming Alive puts the same medicine in almost the same words – you come more alive through acceptance, limitations, and surrender, not by hunting a life that was never yours.

Read it, exhale, and let the lion keep his job.

🌸 And what if you're not a lion?
In the universe everyone has their role.
Everything is in its place. Everything moves in cycles.
Take the lion. He's a hunter.
He has night vision and sharp fangs, a body built for hunting.
He was born to be a lion.
And then there's the wildebeest. They are prey.
She may live a whole life and die of old age. Or she may be eaten. She doesn't ask herself:
“Why am I not a lion?” She simply lives her life with pleasure, while she can.
And we keep trying to be lions. Or tigers. Or someone else we are not.
We compare all the time,
try to change ourselves, to fit someone's expectations.
We decide we're “not enough.”
We forget that being yourself is already enough.
It seems to me we're so afraid of failing others' (and our own) expectations that we forget to live.
Without a grade. Without a role.
And yet when we allow ourselves to be the wildebeest and not the lion –
we exhale.
We set our “I” free.
And we merge with the universe. Gaining incredible strength.

From Anxiety to Silence

2025-05-03T00:00:00Z

There's a detail in this post that says more than any diagnosis: for years, Bella was afraid of silence. Not of anything in it – of the silence itself. She fell asleep at 3am with pills and a series running, because night with nothing on was unbearable.

What changed wasn't luck. It was slow, deep, sometimes painful work on herself – learning her own worth until the people who treated her as nothing no longer had a seat at the table. Being Whole leads into exactly that room: a guided way into your own silence, where fear dissolves by being felt rather than drowned out. Help exists – but only if you let it in.

She falls asleep at ten now. The post is the road between those two bedtimes.

🌙 From anxiety to silence
Recently I was feeling a bit nauseous – it happens in pregnancy.
My husband came over, passed his hand over my belly as if “gathering up” the bad feeling, and blew it out the window.
It was so sweet, so kind, that I cried from tenderness – from such love, such care.
And I suddenly remembered another period of my life…
From about 19 to 27 I had men who cheated, ignored me,
disappeared, blocked me – and, in essence, treated me as nothing.
So many tears,
so many times a broken heart…
But back then I didn't know myself either.
Didn't respect myself. Didn't value myself.
And I allowed myself to be treated that way.
It got to the point where I became afraid of silence. Sleeping in silence was the scariest thing of all. I fell asleep to TV shows, with pills,
only when I completely blacked out.
Night was the most frightening part of the day.
And then Mari appeared. My mentor. And everything began to change.
I began to feel who I am.
Began to respect myself. To protect myself.
And soon – I met my husband.
By then I was standing on my own feet,
still unsteadily, but I knew my worth. And we went on – together now. Into the way of inner growth,
the way of silence, love, and real closeness.
Recently we remembered
how I used to fall asleep at 3am, with pills and a TV show.
And now – I fall asleep at ten.
Calm. In silence. In harmony.
And yes, my husband played a big part in that. But so did the work on myself.
Slow, deep, at times painful. But so important.
Not everyone believes in psychologists; not everyone is ready for mentors.
Ego and fear often bar the way inward. But if you give yourself a chance,
take a step toward yourself,
start clearing out what's inside…
Life can change.
Softly. Deeply. Magically.

Good or Bad?

2025-05-02T00:00:00Z

A tiger shark crosses hundreds of kilometers to arrive exactly when the sea turtles hatch. No calendar, no reminder – instinct, memory, cycle. Bella got hooked on animal documentaries, and they handed her a question we usually answer too fast: was the shark bad?

The Universal Principle of Balance stands on the same ground: nature seeks its equilibrium value-free – rhythms, cycles, chains – and judgment is something we add on top. Bella walks that thought all the way into the hard rooms, death included, and holds it the way everything here is held: with open hands. What we call “bad” is mostly what hurts – and after it, almost always, something new.

Read it before the next label goes up. Her cat, for the record, is still allowed on the bed.

⚖️ Good or bad?
We're used to dividing everything into “good” and “bad.”
Not only things – but people, actions, events, choices.
We hang the label very quickly. But at the scale of the universe, in the chain of all living beings,
there is no bad and good.
Everything happens – for something.
Yes, I know how banal that sounds.
Even absurd – when truly heavy things happen.
But it's not quite so.
I've gotten hooked on documentaries about animals. And you know, they show astonishingly well how unique and precisely arranged our world is.
In the Bahamas and off the coast of Costa Rica,
tiger sharks arrive in a particular season –
exactly when the sea turtles hatch en masse.
They can cross hundreds of kilometers to be in the right place at the right time.
No calendar. No reminder.
Only instinct, memory, cycle.
And so a little turtle hatches, runs for the water –
and a shark eats it.
“Bad shark,” right?
Maybe we should put her in prison?
Or take my cat.
Every night he sleeps curled up with me, purring, affectionate.
And by day he brings home a bird one time, a squirrel the next. Is he “bad”?
Of course not.
He simply lives as he can. As he feels. As he's made.
Nature has no labels.
It has rhythms, cycles, chains, balance.
Yes, we are humans.
We have speech, feelings, awareness.
But even in our lives,
everything we call “bad” –
is merely painful, unfamiliar, uncomfortable.
Death? We call it bad
because it hurts us.
But the soul isn't hurt.
It leaves. It returns.
Everything is part of something greater.
And the smaller things we file under “bad” –
a breakup, a lost job, a loss…
If you look closely,
almost always something new comes after that “bad.”
Maybe it's all not so “bad” after all?

City or Forest

2025-04-28T00:00:00Z

There's a costume for being “spiritual”: neutral clothes, no bars, no noisy friends, ideally a hut in the woods. Bella carried that image for years – until she noticed it's just one more label, with glossy pseudo-retreats selling it back to us, cocktails included.

Her conclusion could stand over this whole site: spiritual work and ordinary life are not opposites – they are parts of one way. A Place to Go says it from the channeled side: the place you're looking for isn't a distant heaven. It's available now, in this breath – in the city, in the forest, anywhere.

So no, you don't have to move to the woods. You just have to stay in contact with yourself. She says it better.

🌸 Spiritual work and ordinary life
I always thought there was a certain image of a person who does spiritual work.
They're supposed to look a particular way:
wear neutral clothes, stay off social media, not go to bars, not travel to ordinary places, live as a hermit somewhere in the woods and never gather noisy company.
Especially if you open the banned networks – they're full of identical videos: either “former party people” who suddenly, sharply “awakened,” or pretty pseudo-retreats with cocktails on the beach.
But in reality it's nothing like that.
Spiritual work can and should be combined with ordinary life.
They aren't opposites – they're parts of one way.
Spiritual practices help you:
slow down, clear out, exhale,
come back to yourself – not by running from the world, but by staying in it.
Yes, real retreats exist.
But people don't go there with phones and wine glasses.
They go there to rest from the outside noise, to sink into practice, to listen to the silence.
And such places are hard to find.
As hard as finding a real shaman, mentor, or guide. You won't see them in ads. They don't shout about themselves.
In the tribes of old everything was clear:
this one – a warrior, this one – a shaman, this one – cooks the food.
Everyone had their distinct role. That's how people survived.
But the world is different now.
And hanging labels is no longer needed.
You can be a spiritual person – and still go to cafés, laugh with friends,
fly on planes, dance in the kitchen, wear bright dresses, love life.
Spirituality is not a form. It's content.
And that's what matters most:
not to look spiritual, but to live in contact with yourself.
In the city, in the forest, anywhere.

An Education in Living

2025-04-27T00:00:00Z

We get eighteen years of lessons in everything except being a person. Bella's list of what school never covered lands hard because it's so concrete: that your boundaries are sacred, that “no” is a complete answer, that caring for yourself is a duty, not a whim.

Two things keep this post from turning into a complaint. She blames no one – her parents' generation gave what it could. And she doesn't wait to be rescued: The Healer tells of the same discovery, that healing is nothing anyone can do to you. It starts, as her mentor promised, with changing yourself – and watching the circle change around you.

Five or six years into those catch-up lessons, she reports back. The homework is worth it.

🌸 An education in living
Today I want to talk about education. But not about schools and universities. About an education in living. About personal growth. About growing up on the inside.
From the moment we're born we're taught:
to speak, to walk, to write, to count,
we learn languages, sciences, geography, history…
But nobody teaches us to be
We aren't taught:
• That you don't need to show your bum.
• That what's in your underwear is your business alone.
• That loving yourself is not egoism.
• That your boundaries are sacred.
• That periods can and should be talked about without shame.
• That “no” is a complete answer.
• That sex is not only about “satisfying the man” –
it's also about enjoying it yourself.
• That pleasing everyone around is harmful to yourself.
• That taking care of yourself is a duty to yourself, not a whim.
If your parents gave you all of this – you're very lucky.
But most of us – especially the generation of the 90s – didn't get it. And I don't blame anyone.
Our parents grew up in harsh conditions too. And they gave everything they could.
The past can't be changed. And it doesn't need to be.
All our wounds, all the missing lessons – they are our path to wisdom, to strength, to our real self.
But we can change the future.
We can start with ourselves.
With our family.
With our child.
With our “no” where fear used to be.
Once, my psychiatrist and my mentor used to tell me:
“Change yourself – and your surroundings will change. Even your family.”
Back then I didn't believe it.
But now, 5–6 years later,
I see how my family has changed, my circle, my life.
And above all – I have.
It's never too late to start.
The main thing is to push through the fear.
The fear of seeing the pain.
The fear of looking inside.
But if you dare –
life may turn out completely different. And surprise you kindly.🤗

Permission to Try

2025-04-24T00:00:00Z

A week of planning: tiles picked, sizes measured, table and chairs ordered. Then, one step before the finish line, the realization – I don't want this. Most of us would file that under wasted time. Bella refuses the verdict: she tried, and now she knows.

That's the heart of this post, and it reaches well past patios: trying is how we find out what we love – food, rest, drawing, a life. The Creative Process describes creating as a living dance between heart and mind, and a dance is learned exactly this way: crooked, lopsided, with joy, and never to prove anything. You don't have to be talented to live.

Children know this. She's re-learning it out loud – cat emoji and all.

🐱 Permission to simply try
An idea suddenly came to me – to redo the barbecue spot by the house.
All week I picked out tiles, measured sizes, planned, ordered a table, chairs…
And when everything was almost ready – all that was left was buying the tiles and laying them –
I suddenly realized that… I don't want to.
First, the house is rented – I don't feel like investing much in it.
Second, I simply decided this money could go toward something else right now.
On one hand you could think: “Wasted the time,” “dropped what you started,” “why didn't you think of it earlier”… But no.
I tried – and understood it wasn't needed. And it seems to me the whole of life works this way.
How do we find out what we love to eat,
where to rest, what to watch, read, feel, if we don't try?
Yes, the mind will whisper:
“You won't manage,” “you're not an artist,” “you're not a musician.”
But if I enjoy drawing –
why can't I do it just for myself? Crooked, lopsided, nothing like the greats.
But with joy.
We aren't obliged to be Leonardo da Vinci. We don't have to be talented just to live.
Children, when they create,
don't think: “What will others say?”,
“What if it doesn't work out?”, “I'm not good enough.”
They simply try. With interest.
With curiosity. With faith in themselves.
So why do we, the grown-ups, stop?
I give myself permission to try.
Permission to be funny.
Clumsy. Silly. Untalented.
I give myself permission to be myself.
And simply – to try. 🌸

Convenient Cages

2025-04-22T00:00:00Z

“What will people say?” Bella lived with that setting for years – most of us do. Labels make the world cheap to process: successful or loser, one of us or outsider, productive or dead weight. The trouble starts when the sorting turns inward.

That inward turn is exactly what The Blind Spot describes: we split our inner world into the parts we welcome and the parts we push away, and that war never ends on its own. Her way out is the same one: stop performing, let every part exist – the clumsy, the tired, the not-camera-ready – and life gets lighter by itself.

It's the angriest post on this blog so far – and the freest. Let her tell it.

🌸 Labels. Convenient cages.
Labels of judgment are nothing new.
They're a social mechanism that has existed since ancient times.
Why do we do it?
🧠 1. Psychology
The brain likes sorting everything into boxes.
We hang labels quickly so we don't spend energy on nuance.
Like: “one of us – outsider,” “successful – loser,” “normal – weird.”
🧱 2. Social roots
In earlier times everyone knew their role exactly: warrior, mother, farmer.
Deviation – a threat to the group's survival.
So “being like everyone” = “being safe.”
💼 3. Modern capitalism
A person's value = productivity.
Working – well done. Not working – dead weight.
Don't measure up? Here's your guilt and shame.
🤯 4. The culture of success and comparison
Social media, ads, influencers shout:
“Be better, faster, prettier!”
If you're not in the flow – you're “bad,” “lazy,” “not enough.”
These labels are everywhere now. We hang them on everything without even noticing.
“If you don't work – you're a kept woman.”
“You can't be tired at home – people only get tired at work.”
We even have labels for how the wife of this or that man is supposed to look.
Like when they hounded a footballer's girlfriend – just for being a bit plump.
Because she didn't fit the label “footballer's wife.” And what is she supposed to be? Thin, like in an ad? No cellulite, a perfect waist?
By what checklist do we even decide that?
And these labels eat so deep into us
that we start scolding, blaming, pushing ourselves.
We live not the way we want – but so as to “please.”
Please whom, exactly? The neighbor? A passerby? Instagram?
Whatever you do – someone will always be there to criticize.
For years I lived with the settings: “What will people say?”
“You have to be good for everyone.” I'm done with that.
I want to be myself.
Funny in places. Clumsy in places.
Sometimes chubby. Sometimes looking silly. Making mistakes.
But – being myself. Not playing a part. Not seeming. Just – living.
And if we all simply stopped,
looked around, felt ourselves real –
it would get so much easier.
No shackles. No masks.
Without these damn labels.

This Is Why

2025-04-19T00:00:00Z

There's a stretch on every inner path where nothing seems to move. You practice, you search, you show up – and the days answer with silence. Bella knows that stretch from the inside; in her first years it came often, loud enough to make her doubt her own mind.

What she holds against it isn't a pep talk. It's evidence: look back, and the distance already walked becomes visible – the changed reactions, the changed depth. When Fear Returns says the same about the old weight that shows up as if nothing had changed: returning doesn't erase the path. You trace it back, you see what's real, and you keep walking.

Five years in, she still gets the “all for nothing” days. This post is what she does with them.

🌸 Thinking out loud.
Sometimes you get tired.
It hurts. It's hard. You want to drop it all – the practice, the searching, the way.
It feels like you're beating against emptiness, that there's no response, that nothing is changing.
I know this well. In the first years of spiritual work it was often like that.
Sometimes it felt like I was losing my mind. That it was all for nothing. That it was too much. That enough was enough.
But then…
You suddenly see the fruits.
You look back – and realize how much of the path is already behind you.
How your life has changed, your inner state, your reactions, your depth.
And that moment… when you see: “So this is why.”
It's more than a victory. It's – a personal success.
Mine.
Even now, almost 5 years in, the feeling that it's all for nothing still washes over me sometimes. But I remember who I was, and who I've become. And everything falls into place. I keep walking.

The Controller

2025-04-18T00:00:00Z

Everyone has met their inner controller: the one who plans the vacation a year out, scripts the meeting, the date, the work week – and then watches the mood drop to zero the moment life doesn't follow the script. Bella knows hers well, and she introduces it without cosmetics.

What finally loosened its grip wasn't a technique. It was scale: one documentary about the universe – billions of suns, galaxies beyond counting – and the controller suddenly looks like a two-year-old in a sandbox trying to run the world. The Art of Letting Go describes the same release from the inside: letting go isn't giving up, and control was never ours to begin with. Everything was already carrying us the whole time.

Read it for the relief in the last lines. It's contagious.

🌀 The Controller
Probably everyone has run into their inner controller at least once. That obsessive type who wants to plan the vacation a year ahead,
script every detail of a meeting, a date, a work plan…
And then, of course, everything goes differently than hoped, the mood drops to zero, the vacation – “forget it, who needs it.”
But if you think back, the best moments were exactly the spontaneous ones.
When we bought tickets within a couple of days and flew off.✈️
Living without the controller is easier. But how do you let him go?
For me it was hard.
I'm neurotic, I have ADHD and a bit of OCD.
I need to know in advance, understand in advance, feel in control.
It seems like if I relax – the planet will stop.
I went to psychologists, healers, shamans. I worked on it myself.
Little by little the controller started losing ground.
But you know what influenced me most of all?
An ordinary documentary… about the universe.
In simple words:
There is our solar system – with our Sun and its planets. In our galaxy, called the Milky Way, there are billions of stars like our Sun. And many of them may have planets of their own – just like ours! And beyond our galaxy, space holds an enormous number of other galaxies, each with its own stars and planets.
And then I understood:
my inner controller is like a two-year-old in a sandbox
trying to run the world.
For the first time I truly wanted to relax.
Not because “you're supposed to” or “controlling is bad for you.”
But because… everything is already arranged.
The world lives. The universe breathes. The planets spin.
And I – am simply a person in this enormous, beautiful chaos.
And my vacation, dinner, project – at that scale, really no reason to panic.

When I Grow Up

2025-04-17T00:00:00Z

Nobody hands you a manual at eighteen. One day it's homework and school holidays, the next you're supposed to know what to study, where to work, what a tax form is. Those years get romanticized as freedom. Bella calls them what they often were: surviving.

What she's found since isn't a five-year plan. It's a different posture toward the question itself: trying things on with curiosity instead of panic – choosing, and choosing again. That's the balance Surrender & Decision walks through: a conscious life is neither control nor drifting, and no choice is final. You're allowed to be someone slightly different every day.

She writes it with a grin, zombie emoji included. Don't let that fool you – the ground under it is solid.

🧟‍♀️ Teenagers
Recently my husband and I – and then my mom too – were talking about the teenage years.
For me the stretch from 17–18 to 27 was, to put it mildly, not the most pleasant.
Most of the time you're suffering, messing up, surviving,
trying to figure out who you are, where to work, what to do with this life.
For my husband those same years – roughly the same feeling.
My mom married earlier, but she says life before marriage was no picnic either.
It seems to me life truly begins after 30.
You're no longer testing your body and psyche for durability.
You have a rough idea of what you want.
Maybe there's a marriage, kids, work you love,
or at least the sense that you've grown something inside yourself.
After 30 you're not surviving anymore – you're starting to gather the harvest –
and, importantly, you don't forget to plant anew.
Why is the teenage time so hard?
You're abruptly turned from a schoolkid with homework and school breaks into a person who's supposed to know:
who they want to be, where to apply, and what a tax certificate is 🙈😀
Nobody prepares us for adult life.
At some point they simply say:
“That's it. You're an adult. Decide for yourself.”
And I'm 33 now.
And honestly, I still don't know who I want to be when I grow up.
But it doesn't scare me anymore.
I simply switch on my inner child.
I try. I explore. I try things on.
With curiosity. Without hysterics. Sometimes – with joy.
And maybe that's the secret:
to stop searching for “who to be” –
and simply be yourself. Even if a different one every day.💕

A Strange Envy

2025-04-16T00:00:00Z

Envy has a bad reputation, so most of us look away the moment we catch it in ourselves. Bella didn't. She had consciously chosen a quiet season – her first pregnancy, no forced job hunt – and then she opened LinkedIn: everyone announcing something, starting something, moving. And something stung.

What she finds under the sting isn't really about work. It's the pull to prove you're in motion – to be like everyone – even after you've already chosen otherwise. Coming Alive says the same thing from the other side: stay in your own lane, come home to yourself. You don't live to prove that you are enough. You already are.

Bella writes this from the middle of learning it, not from the far shore. That's exactly what makes it worth reading.

🌿 Envy
Today I noticed a strange form of envy in myself.
No anger, no bile, no dark energy.
It harmed no one – but to me it became unpleasant.
And I decided to figure out what this feeling was.
Right now I have consciously chosen:
to devote myself to the pregnancy.
If freelance work or a job comes along that truly resonates – gladly.
But tearing myself apart just to find anything at all – that I've forbidden myself.
This is my first pregnancy.
I want to live it. To feel it.
Even my husband said: “Exhale already.”
But then I open LinkedIn to write a post – and see the feed: “Found a job,” “Joined a new company,” “Started a new project.”
And something inside stung.
How come? They found one. And I – didn't?
For a second I wanted to –
go looking for anything at all, just to say: “I'm working!”
To prove I'm like everyone else.
That I'm moving. In process. Not falling behind.
But… I gave myself permission not to hurry.
So where does it come from, this wish to be “like everyone” again?
Why does envy creep up even toward people who aren't rivals – who are just… living?
Maybe it isn't about the work at all.
Maybe it's that simply being is still unfamiliar to me.
No status, no usefulness, no achievements.
And I'm learning:
not to compare,
not to chase,
to treat my path gently – even if right now it is a path about quiet.

The Pendulum

2025-04-15T00:00:00Z

An unexpected gift, and not the one she was hoping for – that's how the pendulum entered Bella's life. This is the most “esoteric” post on this blog so far, so a word on how such things are held here: with open hands. Whether something answers through a pendulum or your own depth answers through it – you don't have to decide. Neither does she.

Underneath the tool, her point is one this whole site stands on: there is a voice in you worth hearing, and most of us need something that helps us stop and listen – an object, a practice, a page. This site has its Amulet and the Being Whole meditation. Bella has her pendulum. The tool is exchangeable; the listening is not.

Take it as she offers it – one instrument that fits one hand. Yours may look different.

🔮 The pendulum
Today I want to tell you about the pendulum.
There's a lot of talk around it too: esoterics, black magic, “dangerous energies”…
In truth, as with any other tool, it all depends on how you use it.
There is light and shadow in everything. What matters is intention.
On one of our first dates my (then future) husband gave me a pendulum.
It was not at all the gift I was expecting.
I didn't even understand what it was for or what to do with it.
But later he told me a lot, and showed me how he uses his own.
And I learned too. A little differently, in my own style – as it should be.
We always look for the tools that fit us,
and we interpret everything in our own way.
At first the pendulum was silent.
Like the monkey with the glasses in the fable, I turned it over in my hands, not knowing what to do with it.
And then – at the right moment – something clicked.
I began to use it more and more.
Yes, at first I treated it almost like a magic ball:
“Tell me, will I get married? Come on, say yes!” 😀
But with experience came understanding.
I began to use the pendulum consciously, with respect, with trust.
And for two years now – it has been my little helper.
The other day I was leafing through my working notebook – and saw that everything I once asked about has come true.
What I worked on – worked itself out.
Some fears left, doubts dissolved.
But the most important thing –
the pendulum taught me to hear myself.
If you're interested,
I'll gladly tell you more:
how to choose a pendulum, how to work with it,
and how to turn it into a guide – not in a magical sense,
but as an instrument of connection with yourself.

Make a Wish

2025-04-12T00:00:00Z

Bella grew up with a rule most of us learned in some version: one wish per star, don't ask for too much, don't be greedy. Thirty-three years is a long time to keep a wish list short – and then one sentence dissolved it.

The Amulet of Love page says the same thing from the other side: you are loved unconditionally – nothing about the asking has to be earned. A need is right and may be named out loud. What you release is the outcome – never the need itself.

Her version doesn't argue the theory. It opens a window – and ends with an invitation. Take it.

✨Make a wish.✨
I don't know how it is for you,
but all my life I lived with the thought that asking for much is not allowed.
You know how it goes: a star falls – make a wish.
Or your birthday – blow out the candles, make one.
One. Not two. Not three.
Much – not allowed.
Or you're ill-mannered. Insatiable. Wanting it all handed to you.
And it doesn't matter whether you blew out the candles
or whisper something to God in the silence – there is to be one wish only.
I lived with that belief for 33 years. Until one day my husband said to me:
“The universe loves you the way a mother loves her child.
It is vast, tender, and boundless.
It has no rules. No limits.
You can ask for as much as you wish.
It will come true – if it's needed.
And asking is allowed. Even needed.”
And after those words my limits seemed to dissolve.
I began to dream, to wish, to talk to the sky out loud. Without shame.
Simply – as it comes. Because now I know: it's allowed.
And if you're reading this now – make a wish. Right now. Without fear. Straight from the heart.❤️

Just Exhale

2025-04-12T00:00:00Z

“Just exhale. Stop. Enjoy the pregnancy.” Easy to say – and it asks a lot. Bella heard that sentence a month after her beloved job ended, just after she learned she was pregnant: no income, no plan, and a wave of fear rolling in.

What she walks through here is the spiral from Fear and Control: we search for safety outside – in work, income, recognition – and the moment the outside falls away, fear grabs the wheel. Her way out isn't a plan B. She lets the ground be gone and finds she is standing anyway: my support is me, my safety is me too.

This was one of the first posts on her channel. Let her tell it.

🌸Hitting rock bottom.
It's not always about pain. Sometimes – it's a chance to meet yourself.
All our lives we look for a feeling of security.
In work. In income. In recognition. In people.
But real security isn't outside. It's within.
A month ago I had a job I loved, career growth, stability.
I found out I was pregnant.
And now – no job, no benefits, no idea what comes next.
And then a wave of fears rolled over me.
I felt abandoned, unprotected, lost.
I threw myself into job hunting right away – though who hires someone headed for maternity leave? And I can't lie.
My husband said: “Just exhale. Stop. Enjoy the pregnancy.”
But inside, a voice kept repeating:
If I'm not working – I'm going backwards.
If I have no income – I'm in danger.
Even though I have a home.
There is food.
There is a husband by my side.
There is a life inside me.
And I began to understand:
My support is me.
My safety is me, too.
I'm allowed to let myself be. Simply be.
Not to blame myself for “doing nothing.”
But to trust.
I believe: work, money, fulfillment – they will come.
When I'm ready. Maybe during the pregnancy. Maybe later.
For now, my lesson is to trust.
Myself. The world. The universe.