The story of The Tree reaching the Sky or Januska in love


Maja Bumberák is a fellow storyteller. We met in Zagreb in May 2019 for the first time. The second time we met in England, where we attended a course Word Dancing – Creative Writing and Storytelling.

Maja lives in Budapest and lives stories, tells stories, educates about stories, collect them for almost ten years (I believe I did not misunderstand her biography). Last week she performed on line traditional Hungarian tale The Tree reaching the Sky as a part of the House of Tradition project. She invited her friends to listen/ enjoy the story or the beauty and musicality of the Hungarian language.

Since I don’t know Hungarian I decided to give it a try with an intention to note any association, feeling I might come across during telling. Result of my listening is the story  Januska in love.

Maja, thank you for the inspiration.

Januska in love

Januska was a 12 years old boy madly in love with Kishasona, who was two years older. She lived in the neighbourhood and was the most beautiful girl he knew besides his mother. He was the king of playing games on the phone, so he proposed Kishasona to teach her how to play. Kishasona was not interested in playing games. She dreamed of going to a culinary school. She talked about a cooking competition which was held at the end of the school year. The first place would get her additional points for enrolling to a culinary school and a yearly scholarship.  She talked about different recipes for pancakes which was these year competition theme.

Januska did not know how to make pancakes. When Kishasona found out, she laughed at him and that hurt. He decided to beat her and enrolled in the competition. He asked the mother to help him, but she was busy with her excel sheets and reports. His older sister looked at him with pity.

„Pancakes? Januska the world is on fire. What is wrong with you? Besides, you can order pancakes. I have no time or interest to teach you how to make them.“

He had nobody else to ask. His grandmothers lived far and did not use mobile phones. He was sitting on the cheery tree, thinking of what to do when he saw an old lady carrying two bags. She came closer and said:

„ Dear boy, can you help me carry my bags? I will pay for it.“  He jumped from the tree.

„ Do you know how to make pancakes?“


„Can you teach me how to make them?“


She lived at the edge of town in a tiny but spotlessly clean house. The back of the house was circumcircle with trees while at the front there was a garden where she grew flowers and vegetables.

She told him his apprenticeship would last four weeks. During that period he will come to her house early in the morning before sunrise and later during the day when he finishes his homework. He also will bring a note from his parents that they allow him to attend cooking lessons.

During the first week of lessons he had to chop woods, cut grass in a garden, mend a fence and help with gardening. Not being used to physical work his arms hurt and he got blisters. On the second week, he was allowed to spend time with her in the kitchen. While he was making bread or cookies, he had to clean floor, wash dishes, help with organising cupboards and place where she kept groceries. He was getting worried so over a tea and cookie he asked:

„Why do I have to do all the work which has nothing to do with learning how to make pancakes?“

„It is preparation time. Before you can master a skill, you need preparation time.“

„Chopping woods and cleaning is what you call preparation time?“

„Yes. How could you start baking or cooking if you do not know to start a fire? How will you or your guests enjoy your masterpiece meal if the house is dirty?“

She seeped tea and eat a cookie which was so delicious she prepared a box for him to take home.

On the third week, she talked about flour, milk, eggs, oil, pan and temperature and asked him to keep notes and to repeat them while he was doing other tasks. On Wednesday of the third week, she showed him how to make a daugh for a pancake and how to bake them. On Friday it was his turn to try. He made daugh threes times, but each time it was not right. Finally, when she approved the daugh, it was his turn to bake pancakes. Five of them finished on a  plate rest was on the floor. He spent a whole hour cleaning the mass he made in the kitchen.  He got angry and kicked a rock on his way home. The leg hurt, and he lipped all the way and had to stay at home for several days.  He returned form more lessons on Wednesday of week four. On Friday, the old lady was happy with his work. She congratulated him and said:

„You know all you need to know. It depends on your decision and passion if you win the competition.“

On the day of the competition, he was nervous. He saw his friends in the crowd pointing at him and laughing,  but when he saw Kishasona approaching his table, he forgot her hurting him. He was in love again. He took second place. Kishasona won and gave him a kiss for helping her through the competition. He got the best price he could get.

Inspired by the telling of the storyteller Maja Bumberák.

@marymrvos, June 15, 2020.

Photos from Pexels





Zuzu’s boundaries

photo of woman standing on sunflower field

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on

I wrote Zuzu’s boundaries story for a friend, but I wrote it for myself too. Last several days, I consumed tons of information about secret plans and agendas to enslave humanity. It is not new to me, but specific information makes me feel sick. I do not know about you, but I do not want to be a slave. It is my birthright to be free.
Zuzu’s story is about stepping forward, even when you are afraid. I am scared of many things, but I dare to do what I feel I must do.

Enjoy the story and be true to yourself.

Zuzu’s boundaries

Zuzu owned a rosebush farm which she took from her parents. She put lots of work introducing news, and her roses became known all over the world. When she was little, she cared for bushes, but now she spent all her time in the office.

As time was passing, she felt unease inside her body which changed into pain. She ignored it, but the pain was getting stronger. She went to see a doctor. He/she listened to her and let her do many tests. With tests Zuzu revisited he/she doctor. He/she looked at the papers and sad:

Well, before I say anything, I want to ask you a question?


Are you happy?

Well, yes.

He/she looked again and repeated the question: Are you happy?

Well, I don’t know what to say.

I also don’t know what to say.  According to tests, you are well. Nothing is wrong. That pain you described comes from the place we can not scan with our instruments. I can prescribe pain killers or ask you to do more tests, but it won’t help.  Are you willing to try something different?

Well, yes. Anything to get rid of the pain. My business is suffering.

I prescribe you to sit quietly once a day and listen.


Yes, listen to your thoughts and if any thought bothers you pay attention and listen more.

Zuzu’s face got red. She snatched papers from a doctor’s desk and left the room.

At first, she did nothing. She bought painkillers in the pharmacy. They helped, but as time passed, her pain did not go away. Now, she felt it in the morning, throughout a day and in her sleep. She couldn’t concentrate, do her plans, participate at essential meetings, speak with buyers. She had to pass most of her obligations to other people who worked for her. She got sick to the point she could barely go out of the house.

One day she sat on the porch. She decided to try listening. Her thoughts were like bees, and she thought she is in a bee house. She got used to the sound of bees. It relaxed her body, and she breaded deeper. Some days it was difficult to listen. Many times she quit, but the pain would not let her stop.

One day she heard a voice which sounded much like he/she doctor she visited.

Zuzu, you are progressing well.

Who are you? Am I talking to myself? Am I getting crazy?

No, you got to a place where you can talk to me.

Who are you?

I can be a guide, a friend, a doctor. Whatever you choose to call me, it is fine with me.

O.K. What do you want?

I want to tell you how brilliant you are and how much you have achieved so far.

Are you kidding with me?


I am brilliant, and I have done a great job. You must be kidding. I eat, drink, sleep and sit on my porch pretending to listen while others do all the work around the farm.

We all need time to rest.

I can not keep resting forever.

I agree, and that is the reason I came to remind you of the job you have done so far.

What job?

Resting and listening.

That is no job, that is resting. Regarding listening, I am not even sure if I know how to listen.

You do. You found me.

No, I am hallucinating.

Zuzu made another visit to he/she doctor. She told him/her what happened. He/she smiled and said:

My prescription is working. Well done. Continue listening.

I don’t believe you. I pay you and all you say continue listening.  Aren’t you going to do more tests or try a different procedure?

No, I want you to continue. Please remind me how many times I prescribed listening.

Once a day.

O.K. From today change it to twice a day.

As she drove home, Zuzu realized her pain weakened.  She decided to give it a try. She would sit and listen twice a day and was able to return to work for a few hours.  Management and office duties were running smoothly so; she decided to spend more time in the fields gardening. She felt the sun on her face, dirt on her fingers. She listened to birds and found time to examine ants, bees, ladybugs. She also talked to rose bushes and laughed a lot. Still he felt pain from time to time. She did not recover to the fullest.

One day her sister came out of nowhere. She did not see her for over ten years. Zuzu would send her money, but that was all. No calls, no visits. She parked her car on the grass and announced she came to help her with business and recovery. Zuzu felt uneasy but sad nothing.

Her sister started bossing around and making people uneasy. Her orders were contradicting one other, and she created a lot of chaos on the farm. Suppliers began to call Zuzu to check what is gone wrong.  She stopped her practice and put more effort into fixing mass after her sister while she was having fun doing what she pleased to do without considering others. Zuzu’s pain returned and was getting stronger. She paid another visit to her doctor. He/she listened and said:

You have to return to the listening practice, and you have to put some borders and show people around you your new boundaries.

I do not understand. How do I draw a line?

Simple. Ask yourself a question. What do you don’t tolerate anymore, and that is how you draw a line. Once you create new boundaries, go out and practice them.

She felt anger. Listening and answering questions. Is this doctor real?

Doctor, you do not understand. I work hard, and I do whatever I need to do, I treat my workers fairly, I take care of my sister, I let her boss around as I always have and I get pain, and others get the glory. I give up.

No. You can not afford to give up. It would mean you will lose everything you worked for so hard.

What kind of doctor are you? Why can’t you give me a pill to ease the pain?

I care about my patients, and I want them to thrive in life. Some of my patients need pills, but you do not need them. You need to stand up for yourself. Listen and draw new borders.

One day she was in the rose kindergarten looking over her pride and joy.  She looked at the best rose bushes which produced fragrant so sweet that would make you believe you are in haven. She spotted cigarette chunks.

She found her sister in the dining room. She put her boots on the dining table and she was talking over a phone. Zuzu waited for a while, trying to catch her attention. She ignored her and waived her to leave the room. Zuzu waited when she heard a voice – Took her phone and, make her listen to you. No , I that’s rude. I can not do that. She is rude, she showed you to go out of the room. No, I do not do such things. She does, she can do whatever she likes. O.K. Do as you please. Voice disappeared, but her pain returned. She couldn’t stand it any more. She came closer to her sister and said:

I need to talk to you.

Can you see I am on the phone?

Finish the call. I need to talk to you right now.

Or what, you will start crying as you always do?

No. I will end your call. Zuzu grabbed her phone and switched it off.

How dare you! It was an important business call. You will ruin our business.

Stop. We both know you are laying. I was in the rose kindergarten and saw cigarette chunks all over the ground. Since you are the only person who smokes around here go and clean your mess. From now, you are not allowed to smoke on the farm, and if you can not accept it, you have to leave.

You can not do that. It is my right to be here.

You can be here, but you have to accept the rules by which we live here. Our farm is a non-smoking zone, and you have been ignoring that rule since you came. If you can not accept it, you have to leave.

Little by little, with small steps, Zuzu changed her life. She thought herself to listen and follow her intuition which showed her how to heal. Next time she went to see her doctor to  tell him/her what happened, she couldn’t find him/her. They told her a doctor of that name never existed.

©marymrvos for a friend

May 9, 2020

Beta čitatelj


Krajem prosinca 2019. godine stvorila se prilika da kao beta čitatelj dobijem na čitanje roman britanskog pripovjedača i pisca. Ne poznajemo se osobno, povezali smo se preko društvenih mreža, a nit vodilja nam je ljubav prema pričama i umjetničkom pripovijedanju.

Da bi netko bio beta čitatelj i nije potrebno da se pisac i čitatelj poznaju, dapače, što manje poznajete nečiji rad imate svježiji pogled i otvoreniji ste biti što objektivniji. Primjerak romana stigao je prije desetak dana.

Pitanja na koje je autor želio odgovor bila su navedena na kraju romana a ja, štreber, odlučim ne gledati prije vremena, ali priznajem, na pedesetoj stranici sam se spustila do kraja teksta da provjerim što se traži. Ugodno sam se iznenadila kad sam vidjela da su me intuicija i teorijsko znanje stečeno na Kursu kreativnog pisanja A+ , koji toplo preporučujem, naveli u pravom smjeru.

Sinoć sam pročitala zadnje stranice i dok mi je sve bilo svježe uhvatila sam se bilježaka i poslala autoru povratnu informaciju navodeći mu što mi se svidjelo, što mi je zapinjalo i što nije  doprinosilo tekstu, kojem čitatelju je priča namijenjena i bi li štogod mijenjala. To me je pitanje najviše zateklo. Shvatila sam da se bojim i pomisliti da mijenjam tuđe priča. Jedan vrlo dosadan glasić mi je ponavljao: „A tko si ti da mijenjaš tuđe priče?“, no vjerujem da je to tek privremeno stanje uma i da će se i to promijeniti.

Iskustvo beta čitatelja koristilo je i piscu i čitatelju u meni i zahvalna sam autoru koji mi je ukazao povjerenje.

Trebate li beta čitatelja, javite se. Rado ću pomoći,  ako mi se sviđa žanr u kojem pišete.

Marijana Mary Mrvoš

Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

O siječnju, o postignućima, o nedoumicama

Početkom nove godine svodimo račune i planiramo nova postignuća i u euforiju novogodišnjeg slavlja skloni smo zaboraviti vlastita tamna mjesta.  

Na stolu novi kalendar za 2020. godinu. Otvaram ga i prelazim prvi tjedan, pri kraju je drugi tjedan i mirišem dolazak veljače. Dan po dan odlamaju se komadići novopečene pogače za koju sam mislila da sam ju tek jučer izvadila iz pećnice.

Siječanj mi je simbol zime, tople odjeće, snježnih nanosa, hladnih vjetrova i niskih temperatura. Volim topliji dio godine i u prvim danima siječnja još ne zamjećujem da si dan dodaje a noć oduzima minute.

U siječnju volim biti u toplome ili oko stola u dobrom društvu uz hranu, napitke i puno smijeha i razgovora.

Siječanjski nesrazmjer dana i noći koristim kako bih zastala, osluhnula i pružila si priliku da se pogledam u ogledalo i vidim sve što sam izvana i iznutra, sve što mi se sviđa, ali još više, jer zahtijeva hrabrost i iskrenost, i ono što mi se ne sviđa i što bih radije da vidim na susjedu ili prijatelju jer kod mene toga nema. Zar ne?

Iz prethodnog desetljeća nosim promjene radnih mjesta, susrete s ljudima koji su mi postali više od prijatelja, zahvalnost za one koji su me dovodili do ludila zbog kojih sam počela otkrivati da je tvrdoglavost drugo ime za kontrolu i potrebu da budem u pravu, hrabrost da se zaputim na put koji je neizvjestan, ali koji donosi nagrade koje ni u najmaštovitijim snovima ne mogu sanjati.

Kraj desetljeća donio je promjene u karijeri pa sam iz svijeta administracije zakoraknula putevima umjetničkog pripovijedanja i pisanja. U tri godine izašla sam gotovo stotinu puta na pozornicu kako bih prisutnima ispripovijedala bajku, priču ili predaju.

Za osobu koja je do unazad nekoliko godina pod svaku cijenu izbjegavala biti izložena javnom pogledu to znači kao da sam se popela na najviši vrh svijete i to je moje najveće postignuće.

U 2019. godini bilježim na tisuće malih postignuća. Ako se pitate kako im znam broj onda ću vam otkriti tajnu.  Svaki tjedan s prijateljicom slavim sva postignuća koja sam postigla kroz tjedan. Od većih postignuća izdvajam:

  • trodnevnu pjesničko-ekološku rezidenciju u Vukomeriću u prekrasnom snježnom ambijentu i s predivnim dušama
  • nastup na međunarodnom festivalu pripovjedanja u Zagrebu
  • ljetovanje na otoku Cresu gdje sam bila pažena poput princeze
  • ljetnu škola u Engleskoj koja me je napunila, ispunila i pokazala mi koliko sam hrabra i odlučna
  • sudjelovanje na festivalima koje organizira prijatelj Marijan Grakalić koji to čini s puno topline i neposrednosti što smatram pravim draguljem
  • putovanje na Festival bajke u Sarajevo
  • prvu kolekciju životnih priča pod imenom Knjiga priča i sjećanja koja čeka skorašnji izlazak iz tiska

Kroz desetljeće sam imala puno padova, neodgovorenih pitanja i nedoumica. Iz 2019. sam ponijela i nevidljive suputnike za koje najprije pomislim da bih ih zaobišla, ali za koje iz iskustva znam da će mi biti najveći učitelji. I ovih dana se nosim s nedoumicama i iz jutarnjeg dnevnika dijelim nekoliko rečenica:

Nedoumice su se nagomilale i nabujale čekajući noć da se izliju i uhvate u vrzino kolo i podciknu i podviknu i naruče bure vina i piva i mastan komad mesa i pozovu svirače i tako luduju do jutra dok ti pokušavaš prepoznati odgovor za kojim tragaš. Nedoumice vole košmar, nejasnoću, vašare i cirkuse, i lako će mo i nije nigdar bilo da nekak ne bilo, ali i one su dobrodošao gost jer te vraćaju na mjesto jasnoće, tišine, šire ti horizont i kad ti pred prozorom niče  nelegalno izgrađena zgrada jer smo zaboravili na sposobnos  viđenja u daljinu bez vještičje kugle ili s vješticom u sebi. S jutrom, kako sunce kreće u nov obilazak svijeta, nedoumice dolaze na svjetlo i vidiš ih kakve su kad su trijezne.  Ispuckuješ ih kao zrak iz jastučića kojima su obložene kuverte u kojima šalješ važne dokumente. One umorne i ispuckane napuštaju pozornicu dok ti odlaziš u novi dan.  

Iza svakog uspjeha puno je nedoumica, nelagoda i strahova. Hrabrost da se s njima suočimo otvara vrata snovima koje želimo postići.

Slavite, budite hrabri i sanjajte najnemogućije snove, jer nikad ne znate kad ćete ih ostvariti.

Budite spremni i čekajte ostvarenje vlastitih snova širom otvorenih ruku.


Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh from Pexels



Kap sjećanja rijeke Mersey pri utoku u Irsko more (Atlantik)

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Prije osam godina kupila sam muzičku kutiju s melodijom pjesme Imagine. Tad nisam razmišljala da ću ikad koračati ulicama grada u kojoj su rođeni dječaci koji su šezdesetih godina prošlog stoljeća prodrmali svijet.  O tome nisam razmišljala ni prije dva mjeseca kad sam odlučivala hoće li moje putovanje u Engleskoj započeti u Manchesteru ili Liverpoolu.

Te subote kad sam se našla na ulicama Liverpoola rijeka Mersey djelovala je opako i tajanstveno. Nekoliko stotina metara niže susretala se s Irskim morem  i čini mi se da mi je željela pokazati što je sve putem od Warringtona skupila i donijela na poklon.

Trajekti koji su prometovali između Liverpoola i Birkenheada odolijevali su jakom vjetru i valovima. Neki od njih, kao produkt umjetničkog pilot projekta koje provodi gradska uprava, svojim jarkim bojama još su više naglašavali snagu i mutnoću rijeku koja je i danas  liverpoolska žila kucavica.

Uz obalu rijeke Mersey smjestio se i Muzej grada Liverpoola, i to prvi koji se u novijoj povijesti grada uselio u novoizgrađenu zgradu. Susjedne zgrade već dvije, tri stotine godina svjedoče povijesti. Jedne kao poslovna sjedišta, druge kao skladišta robe danas pretvorena u tri muzeja i stanove. Sve one, uz jake nalete vjetra i tračke sunca što se probijalo kroz oblake, pričale su priče o trgovini, bogatstvu, robovima i milijunima snova koji su započeli na dokovima grada Liverpoola.

Od 18. svibnja 2019. do 3. studenog 2019. godine Muzej grada Liverpoola priča priču o dvoje umjetnika, ljubavnika, vizionara, roditelja. Priča priču o dvoje ljudi u vremenu i prostoru istraživanja i eksperimentiranja. Kad na trenutak zastanem njihova priča je i priča o nama,  njihova je glamuroznija i medijski popraćenija, no iza zidova sebstva svi se suočavamo s vlastitim snovima, usponima, padovima i životom.

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„Well, I always had this dream of meeting an artist woman I would fall in love with. Even from art school. And when we met and were talking I just realized she knew everything I knew.“ John, intervju s Peter McCabe i Robert Schonfeld, 1971 (objavljeno u Penthouse, 1984).  Ispod teksta nalazi se i kopija rukom ispisane poruke s crtežom glave muškarca i žene:  Born 1940. Lived. Met Yoko 1966. John Lennon 1969.



Priča o John Lennonu i Yoko Ono pod nazivom „Double Fantasy“ kreće od njihovog prvog susreta 1966. godine u galeriji Indica i vodi posjetitelja kroz etape njihovog individualnog i zajedničkog djelovanja. Bjelina zidova vješto simulira papir pa vas brzo uvuče u priču. Provlačite se kroz redove slova i teksta, komunicirate s izlošcima svim osjetilima (osobni predmete – naočale, odjeća, gitara,crteži –  fotografije, audio zapisi, prijepiska s imigracijskim odjelom u SAD i sl.). Kroz intervjue, citate i rukom pisane stihove upijate njihovu osobnu priča, priču o zajedničkom radu, političkom aktivizam i kampanji za mir. Pojedini detalji i predmeti su po prvi put javno izloženi.

Saznala sam da se John volio smijati i šaliti o čemu svjedoči i citat Yoko Ono: „John taught me to laugh a lot at life, and I do. It would have been better if he hadn’t died but you can’t sit and cry. These are things life throws at you and you have to learn to overcome them.“ Yoko, Daily Mail, 2010.

Zadnji vikend u kolovozu donio mi je ulice Liverpoola i kap sjećanja na ljude i događaje grada bogate povijesti izvezene usponima i padovima. Nekima je donio novu odjeću, obuću ili opremu za sport kako bi spremno započeli novu školsku godinu. Sanjari su uživali u kiši nota što su padale na grad dok se John s prijateljima vragolasto smješkao; neke djevojčice i dječaci birali su prve instrumente. Rijeka Mercey je tu da nam ispriča i njihovu priču.

Priča je napisana za festival Četiri godišnja doba književnosti: Jesen i Zelina koji je održan  u Zelini  od 19 do 22 rujna 2019. 

Priča o tome kako i zašto sam se našla na ulicama Liverpoola ispričat će se neki drugi put.  

Nova sezona pričanja priča pod nazivom Priče koje živimo i priče koje trebamo

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Fotografija Duško Kosanović

Ovih dana započinje jesenska sezona pričanja priča pod nazivom – Priče koje živimo i priče koje trebamo. Početak sezone povezan je i s mojim novim projektom u kojem istražujem i ispreplećem priče Ivane Brlić Mažuranić i Hansa Christiana Andersena. Čitajući tekstove o Ivaninom stvaralaštvu i životu često zastanem nad činjeničnim podacima da je rođena u Ogulinu i da je u Ogulinu kraće vrijeme boravila sa šest i ponovno s dvanaest godina. Razmišljam i o njenim zapisima u kojima piše da ju je priroda u Ogulinu snažno dojmila, taj tajanstveni, zastrašujući a vrlo šarmantan Klek ta ponekad neukrotiva (vrijeme bujnosti i poplava) ponekad krotka (ako je to za prirodu primjeren pridjev) rijeka Dobra koja odjednom nestane među stijenama i daje vam priliku da priči date svoju verziju kraja ili novog početka. Razmišljam može li mi priroda pomoći u pripremi njenih priča. Razmišljam o glavnim i sporednim likovima, životinjama, prirodnim pojavama i o mom vlastitom životu.

Svako me jutro blagoslovi novim početkom. Otvaraju mi se mogućnosti da učinim ili ne učinim da odaberem treći ili četvrti put da se ušuškam pod pokrivač s dobrom knjigom.  Dok živim, jer jednog dana se neću probuditi, pričam si vlastitu priču.

Znam. Ima dana kad je priča pregorena, suha, nedovoljno začinjena, nedopečene, ipak, svaka se priča oživi kad mi oživimo. Priče nas njeguju iznutra. Dođu do nas kao proza, poezija, razgovor s prijateljima, susjedima, obitelji, neznancima. Dođu i neverbalnim putem kroz osmijeh, zagrljaj, dodir, pogled.

Sve sam uvjerenija da priče čak i kad su djelo fikcije nisu izmišljene. Reći ćete mi da sam pomiješala lončiće, ali nisam. Pregledajte na netu naslove i podnaslove, sjetite se političkih govora, razgovora za posao, razgovora s obitelji. Sjetite se tih priča i razmislite ne događa li se oko nas priča koju je netko zamislio ili koju smo sami zamislili. S pričama treba biti na oprezu, stoga, obratite pažnju na priče koje pričate i potražite one koje trebate.

Novu sezonu pričanja priča možete poslušati drugog i zadnjeg četvrtka u mjesecu u prostorima udruge Živi Atelje DK, Ilica 110, Zagreb s početkom od 19 sati. Ulaznica je na bazi donacije od 20 kn. Planirani datumi su 26.9; 10.10; 31.10; 14.11; 28.11.; 12.12.

Radujemo se budućim susretima i pričama.

Mary & Mačak

Igrate li se?

Dječje igralište na otoku Cresu, Cres

Što se dogodilo s vremenom? Što se dogodilo s nama? Kao da nam jedan dan nije dovoljan da u njega stane sve ono što u njemu trebamo obaviti. Ili smo si i sami zadali previše zadataka pa idemo od jednog zadatka do drugog zaboravljajući pritom živjeti i igrati se.

Baš jutros sam pričala s prijateljicom o igranju i zašto smo se uvjeriti da na poslu moramo biti ozbiljni. Meni odmah padnu na pamet odvjetnici i poduzetnici u tamnim odijelima i s kravatama. Što su ozbiljniji to odaju dojam kako su važniji ili to barem ja tako doživljavam.

U životu ima toliko divnih stvari i mi, a to lako zaboravimo, možda već danas do kraja dana više nećemo biti ovdje. I što mislite, trebamo li se igrati? Pred mjesec dana otišao je ujak Papa, pred desetak dana pjesnik Duša. Mi nastavljamo živjeti, ali njih više nema. S njima se više, u ovoj dimenziji, ne možemo igrati.

Znate da je u životu važno ne skidati pločice sa zida u kupioni (tko se ne sjeća, najavna špica radio emisije Bijela vrana –, ali još je važnije biti (prakticirati) prisutnost u sadašnjosti.

Igrajte se. Nije uvijek lako, ali vrijedi truda.

Dijelite osmijehe, vrijeme, zagrljaje, poljupce, itd.

Ovdje smo tek za tren.