I met her this winter on her book promotion party. I was delighted both by her appearance and her energy: she was almost too beautiful in her white dress with big green flowers but she is striking in that way that behind her pretty looks it is obvious that her rich inside is dominating. Such beautiful women look like they got it all figured, like they are always strong and unbreakable and that nothing could get their crowns off their head.
In the meantime we became friends and although I didn’t read any of her three books because my symptoms came back: blurry sight and double-sightedness, so I excused myself and told her that I will do it when I get better. Since then I read on Kindle because I could make the words large as for the amblyopic – and she understood that. I was getting to know her in personal meetings and came to realize that she really lives that what she is writing about in her blogs.
Yesterday I took her book in my hands and I couldn’t stop reading until today when I naively took the book with myself to finish it in the bar while I have coffee because my chihuahua had to go out.
I laugh a lot – so people probably think that I am an embodiment of strength and optimism. And when they call me a fighter I really don’t know what to say to them because to me it seems like I never had a different choice.
Do you really think I am always strong and that I never cry? It’s childish to think that somebody is always like that. Today, I was wiping off the treacherous tears that were rolling down my face and trying to hide my face that was taking on a grimace of pain while I was reading the last chapters of her book. I put my sunglasses on hoping that the businessmen on a coffee break around me won’t notice me sobbing.
It’s not the book’s fault. The book is always like you are who is reading it. You heard about the saying: Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder? It is like that with everything else too.
On the very end of the book, the narrator, Life addressed me and comforted me a little:
… Then she would understand and see by herself that I ALWAYS do good things and that I do them in a good way, even when she thinks that I am cheating on her. If you ask me for one thing and get another one HAVE CONFIDENCE IN ME. You can be sure that at the right moment I will give you what you need. What you want is not always what you need – I assure you. I will answer your prayers but I won’t answer your doubts. I will give you everything you long for. Today a thorn, tomorrow a flower.
Ingrid Divković, “I want to live”
I called Ingrid to personally give her my feedback and tell her that her beautiful story touched all those places in me that I forgot I had and that I imagined I don’t have anymore. Saying that I began to cry so much that the words coming from my mouth became incomprehensible. I was apologizing and she wiped all my hurt and my absent-mindedness away with her soft companion of a person who is both strong and fragile and who really gets me. I was laughing at my tears and crying again because again I realized something again and this, for some reason, was too sad for me at that moment. We talked about her story that, as she said, “happened to her” and she said she did nothing else but wrote it down and later wondered where did she get it from. I understood her because I felt the same while I was reading my last novel and wondered where did I pull it out from?! We agreed that some stories really just happen and that we don’t have credit for them except we’ve written them down, or, better said, “downloaded” them.
She told me that she cries sometimes too and that none of us said that she was a life coach or a motivator and that she’s always good. We agreed that it is the hardest to “life coach” yourself. Maybe our stories are a reminder or a wake-up call to some people but they’re nothing else… And yes, we always write about the things we live and we both are experiencing a metamorphosis – as she beautifully put it – from a caterpillar to a butterfly…
Not long ago, I sensed that the time is coming when I need to stop swallowing books and listening to teachers who only feed my hungry mind who likes to distract itself with anything but to actually apply the knowledge it learned. Because without me applying what I’ve learned and experiencing it is equal to not knowing it. And the teachers who don’t tell me that the only real knowledge is inside of me and that they can’t know what is best for me but only I do – are not real teachers.
The real teachers are only lighthouses on the open sea of my life, distant but clearly present to steer me not to break myself in the rocks below the surface and to remind me that I was the captain of my ship and that I have to go on this sail by myself. Lighthouses don’t choose the ships they give direction to the same as the apple trees don’t choose the ones they will bear fruits to and are they deserving or not. They’re there both for the pirates as they are for cruisers full of people who afforded themselves those trips because they think they deserved them.
I just wanted to say that I am not always happy and optimistic and that my happiness is inversely proportional to my sadness just like my light is to my darkness. Yes, I laugh a lot but I also know how to grieve passionately.
Once, in hypnotherapy I had to imagine an elevator I was in, riding ten stories down to my subconscious. The therapist told me to stop on two stories and asked me to describe them: they were diametrically opposite: one resembled Aladdin’s cave containing all the fun riches and the other was a deserted shore of my black sea of sadness. At the end of the therapy, I delightedly realized that both stories are intrinsic parts of me and I was OK with that cognition. How could I ever be so happy if I didn’t experience sorrow and pain?
How could I love company so much if I didn’t know what solitude is?
Life is not a straight line upwards but a sequence of rising and falls. And as one of my teachers once said to me: You are not a great person if you never fall but by that how deep is the hole you managed to dig yourself out of. It is like that, isn’t it? Today, Ingrid’s beautiful story reminded me of my black sea of sadness and I cried a little. And later when I went to my hairdresser’s she told me: Anđa, you are always smiling! See, that’s life!