Inspirational

Soulgirl

By

This book will launch on Nov 1, 2020. Currently, only those with the link can see it. 🔒
Synopsis

Soulgirl is a gentle and empowering self-help book written memoir style for girls who won't settle for second best.

If you're running from place to place, relationship to relationship, in the hope of finding a home and peace for your heart, and in search of bringing real meaning to your life, then Soul Girl has so much to share.

You see, the author was one of those girls whose outward life was packed with adventures, parties, trips, education abroad– none of which she was born into– and it was fun while it lasted. But she's been always haunted by a feeling of not quite belonging, of being lost, of not knowing where she was heading inwardly.
While living in six different countries she realized something– the more places she moved to, the more bridges she burned, and the more disconnected she felt within.

Over the past two years everything's changed. She's stopped searching for answers and permissions outside herself. This is her story. She hopes it will inspire you too.

It All Began When You Exited The Uterus


We signed up for this dance
before we were born.

Dear world, I’m about to enter another adventure –

called life, and I am ready. I understand you’ll be 

welcoming me with open arms, and I’ll meet this 

woman who nurtured me under her heart for nine 

blessed months. I’m thrilled, excited, and scared –

emotions I’ll carry as long as I live. But for now, I’m 

nothing but a blank page. I’m nothing but a 

pulsating entity free of pain, suffering, and drama. 

All of which I’ll learn again and again. And above all 

else, I shall never forget I signed up for it all.

Once upon a time, certain stars aligned so two 

human souls could step on each other’s dusty 

pathways for a second, a decade, or perhaps an 

entire lifetime. They liked each other, and so did 

their grand-souls and your great-grand-souls. All 

of those people whose names you had to put on 

your family tree in the sixth grade had to fancy 

each other, seduce each other, and ultimately 

have unprotected sex. It all had to happen in this 

sequence in order for you to even have the good 

fortune to visit this world.

At the moment you were knitted into your 

mother’s womb, you were given a one-of-a-kind, 

unique genetic code assigned to only you. In this 

magical and mysterious moment of faith, 

something else very profound was given to you. 

Something warm and still, but intangible. 

Something that you will carry for as long as you 

live. You may go on and spend your life blindly 

denying its existence, or perhaps like me, you’ll 

turn to it one day when logic and carefully crafted 

strategies no longer work. It is a timeless part of 

you carried from one lifetime into the next.

It is exactly the same spiritual part of you that 

has chosen to descend on this planet, in this time 

zone, to this particular mother.

Thanks to this woman’s uterus, you had months 

to spare preparing for your grand entrance. She 

had months to prepare for a new-found role as 

your caregiver. Both of you impatiently waiting... 

And then the magic began. You went on having 

this experience on Planet Earth called life. I’d like 

to believe that for most of us out here, the 

beginnings were tender, sweet, and lovely. I’d like 

to believe that we were cuddled, warm and safe.

We got all the attention, love, and care our 

parents could have given us at that time and 

place until we matured in our serious human 

ways and started extensively filtering the world 

around us. We quickly soaked up everything 

there was to learn about being human through 

parents that gave us the opportunity to live. The 

good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly. The 

pleasure and pain.

See, the thing is, what we learned in good places 

like home, schools, and playgrounds while 

building sandcastles, seeded confusing stories 

about who we are, what we are capable of, and 

who we will never be.

These heartfelt places set our emotional climates 

for lives we haven’t even tried living, and shaped 

us in so many ways that it would take me the 

entire book just to name a few. But I am not 

going to list those here as there are many books 

written on this topic already.

The only concept I want you to grasp is that this 

very same spiritual part of us has handpicked our 

particular birth parents because we didn’t just 

come to this world to drink lattes all day and buy 

shoes we don’t even need. Every single one of us 

came here on a spiritual adventure – to learn, to 

teach, and to break the patterns that as grown

ups, we madly get attached to. You know those 

things you keep doing over and over again, when 

deep down, you know they are bad for you?

All because you were put on this planet to deal 

with these messy, human addictions and claim 

your victory once you figure this out, one by one. 

Because let’s be honest here – we’re all a bit 

troubled and have far more obsessions than we 

would like to admit.

Anyhow, if you need a visual – see yourself going 

into the wildest forest, finding that snake and 

cutting its tail off. That’s what you literally came 

here to do. But until you find time to go to the 

origins of your spiritual adventure and find its 

roots, you’ll be obsessed forever. And that would 

be a tragedy, because we’re only here for a 

minute, and you want to be free and fierce while 

you’re here. I know this because that’s what I 

want too. We all want this.

So, this is how it goes: step one – absorb all the 

pearls of wisdom you learned from the birth 

parents you have chosen; step two – unlearn 

everything you have learned. Not very logical, I 

know, but there is nothing logical about being 

human anyhow.

Inspired by this illogical notion, I dug deeper. 

Let’s start with parents, and then we’ll move on 

to patterns and stories we tell.

I came across a phrase that sounded something 

like this: “We come through our parents, but we 

are not our parents.”

This was revolutionary to me because it 

contradicted everything I believed in. I thought 

our parents were basically our gods, and we must 

be forever grateful and eternally respectful 

towards them. Because frankly speaking, if you 

aren’t (at least) respectful, you weren’t raised 

right. And love, we must love and treasure them 

because even if they gave us nothing, they gave us 

life.

However, from a spiritual perspective, our 

parents are just an opening fragment in our 

spiritual safari. It’s just a split-second beginning. 

We have no business with our parents because 

we are independent souls doing our ordinary 

things. For reasons unknown, we have arrived 

here to have our very own experience. So they, 

like us, have no right to influence or interfere 

with our adventures and affairs because they 

can’t possibly know what we are here to build, to 

burn, to master and to claim.

Of course, our parents are here to take care of us, 

educate us, and give us the best possible start in 

life, but that’s about it. And on the contrary, it’s 

the children that teach us so much more –

patience, responsibility, unconditional love. They 

come and change our lives forever while doing 

their assignment.

In my personal life, I can only thank my parents 

for all the lessons they have given to me, for all 

the strengths I have developed because of them, 

and for the dreams and ambitions I have had 

because I have chosen my very-far-from-perfect 

parents.

I do not doubt that once my parents loved each 

other very much, but I didn’t experience much of 

it growing up. My first memories of them were 

arguing, fighting, and raising their voices far too 

often. I clearly remember my mother shattering 

their wedding portrait against the floor in front of 

me.

Ouch!

I remember tears, a lot of them. I was five.

When I was six years old, they decided to walk 

separate ways under two different roofs. I 

remember an idyllic summer day by the lake, both 

of my parents looking happy. My father is trying 

to convince my mom not to sign the divorce 

papers. Me, bursting with joy because maybe I 

will have my own room in that three-bedroom 

apartment we were about to move into. I have 

picked the wallpaper with pretty elephants out by 

myself. We will no longer live in a tiny room, all 

three of us in my grandmother’s house. Didn’t 

suddenly, the future look too good to be true?

My mom signed the divorce papers, and just like 

that, we were no longer a family. We rented a 

room, my mom and me, briefly. My mom was 

losing her temper and going to a hospital for a 

while.

Soon enough, we moved in with my stepfather. A 

great man who loved my mother unconditionally 

and raised me as his flesh and blood. I had my 

own room there, but there were no pink 

elephants on the walls.

Every Sunday, I would see my father in the empty 

three-bedroom apartment I never got to move 

into. We would eat, watch a movie and I would 

leave. After a while, I only would see him every 

second Sunday, then third, then once a month.

Every day after school, I would dump my body 

on the top of my bed and cry it all out, thinking 

how unfair the world is, and secretly, naively 

hoping my parents would get back together.

I then stopped seeing my father altogether, but 

since we lived in a small town, I would see his 

car passing sometimes. When he noticed me 

walking home from school, he would stop, ask 

me a few formal questions like how school was 

going, and then drive off.

I never stopped dreaming they would get back 

together, and we would have our normal life 

again. I am thirty-two years old, and they still 

haven’t gotten back together. Maybe they never 

will. My dad remarried.

I also remember that my mom was always busy. 

She worked a lot and was heavily pregnant with 

my brother when I came home one day and told 

her our teacher had asked us to ask our parents 

to buy some special crayons for an art school 

project. They sold them in one particular store, 

and they had to be a certain kind of specific 

crayons. My mom handed me the money and 

said: “Okay then, here you go! You have the 

money, now go on and buy them.”

In that moment, my feelings got bruised. The 

teacher told us to ask our parents to get them for 

us, and my mother was asking me to get them for 

myself. I will not deny that it felt hurtful, and I 

could not believe she could be so cruel to a 

seven-year-old. Nonetheless, I pulled my big 

girl’s pants on and went to get them. I will never 

forget my racing heart and sweaty palms 

moment, and the swirling thoughts of, What if I 

can’t find the crayons?

Nevertheless, I showed up in that store. It felt 

incredibly rewarding to see the shelf with the 

crayons. I picked up the box and brought it to the 

cashier. I then handed her the money and 

collected the change. It felt so grown-up walking 

out of that store. I wanted to shout from the 

rooftops and make sure the whole town heard 

how amazing I was.

My mom had taught me a lesson I will remember 

for a lifetime – self-efficiency is the key. I also 

know she had faith from then on that I would 

always be able to take care of myself.

This feeling revisited me when I was twelve. I 

was about to go on a trip alone. Of course, I had 

to have signed papers by both my parents, 

allowing me to travel on my own. And of course, 

my mom put me on the bus with a bunch of 

sandwiches probably not with an easy heart, but 

twelve hours later, my uncle met me at the bus 

station in Kyiv. If I could travel alone, I could do 

anything in the world, I thought to myself.

That trip was life-changing to me because I got to 

spend a week with my uncle and my aunt, and 

they were the most incredible, in-love people I 

have ever met. They lived and breathed love. 

They even made heart-shaped pancakes for 

breakfast. It was so warm and caring there that I 

experienced love on a completely different level. 

Most importantly, I saw that this kind of love, 

relationship, and marriage was possible. When I 

came back home, I very clearly, in the sharpest 

detail, knew what I wanted my life to look like 

when I grew up.

Assessment – where have you come from?

Growing up, my body was a shelter for mini anger

demons living inside me. They were angry mostly 

towards the world because it seemed like an unfair 

place to live. I was born in a tiny town where 

saving anything was the greatest skill to have. Save 

money, food, electricity, and by all means, try not 

to run out of any of those things. So, every night at 

eleven o’clock sharp, all the street lights would go 

out, and the darkness surrounded everything. I 

couldn’t help but wonder why I wasn’t born 

someplace more exciting that could at least keep 

its lights on at night.

Some get to see the Eiffel Tower which is lit 

every night, and I got to watch nothingness.

In my teenage years, like many others, I started 

to have nights out and go dancing to escape the 

darkness. By the time night was over, I would 

walk home knowing every twist and turn and 

hole in the road to avoid putting my heels into. I 

could proudly bring myself back blindfolded if I 

had to, but I hated it! Why couldn’t we live like 

normal people I saw on TV?

Somehow, I felt I wanted too much for my 

ordinary town, so I promised I’d move as soon as 

I could.

Fortunately, years passed, and suddenly 

everything became clear to me: the place I was 

born into was never misfortune; on the contrary

– it became my mysterious blessing. It had 

taught me so much.

Because who would I be if I’d landed in some 

royal household with a silver spoon in my mouth? 

Oh, I know who I’d be: a spoiled brat who’s bored 

with her own breath, passing her days on a fancy 

quilted blanket counting her mother’s jewels.

What’s more, how tragic and predictable would 

my existence have been?

Here’s what I am getting at: If it weren’t for my 

chosen parents and their divorce and my humble 

upbringing, I would not have one third of the 

drive I have today. If it weren’t for my mother, I 

wouldn’t have learned the self-efficiency she 

planted within me so early.

If it were not for the place I grew up and limited 

access to everything you could imagine, I would 

have no burning desire to travel, explore, and be 

resourceful. And the saddest part of all, I would 

have no ambition for my life. And my ambitions 

have exceeded my own expectations. What I am 

getting at is this: I could have turned out very 

differently if I’d chosen to live with an outdated 

blueprint handed to me along with my birth 

certificate. I could have stayed a forever wounded 

seven-year-old blaming the world for my parents’ 

divorce. I could have stayed a girl who wouldn’t 

smile for a photo because she didn’t feel there 

was any reason to smile. I could have said to 

myself I wasn’t worthy of anything great, and I 

could have married my high school boyfriend and 

stayed within the box inside of a box.

But somehow, a tiny part inside me always 

whispered that I am meant for bigger things. I 

trusted this whisper, more so, I was fascinated 

by this part.

Deep down, we all have wounds to lick and 

tantrums to calm. We may hold many reasons to 

be bitter when we count the misfortunes we 

have. All I know for sure is that anger, and feeling 

sorry for ourselves, will not help us to live freely 

or find that ‘snake in a jungle’, and it will 

certainly not let us cut its tail off for good. 

The point is our parents, or our guardians, have 

done the best they could with the knowledge 

they had at that time and place.

Want to know why your parents raised you a 

certain way? Look at the childhood they had, and 

then having that piece of information in mind, 

evaluate how well they mastered their parenting. 

Did their parents love them? Did they grow up 

with a positive and healthy foundation so they 

could pass it on to you? Or were they broken, so 

that they were incapable of loving you? Or did 

they love you so much that now you are 

struggling to find this kind of love in your 

relationships? Perhaps you have been brought 

up to believe you need to earn love, so you are 

hard on yourself and others around you?

Instead of blaming how good or bad our parents 

were, why don’t we find the lessons, strengths, 

and ambitions we have today because of them?

Wouldn’t that strengthen our faith in our 

capabilities? Wouldn’t that make us more

grateful for the life we were given?

Exercise:

Write down:

The positive lessons you have learned because of 

your upbringing. Be specific. Give examples.

The strengths you have (because of your parents) 

that are serving you today. What are you grateful 

for that they taught you, even if it didn’t feel good 

while you were growing up?

What were your ambitions for your life? What did 

you want to do differently than what your 

upbringing taught you that you could do?

Who wouldn’t you be today without them? Why 

did you choose your parents at this time on Earth? 

What do you think are the lessons you came here 

to learn?

Which ambitions of yours have you achieved, 

brought to life?

Ambitions

Because I was not the one to settle early, I did 

indeed move as far away as I could – to the place 

where happy and liberal people live on the top of 

the once-found gold deposits. To the place where 

I woke up to sunshine, an ocean breeze, and 

dreams. Lots of dreams. Not the typical 

Christmas-tree scenery you have three-hundred

and-sixty-five days a year in Latvia. This was 

California.

I did not dream of going to the States in 

particular, I was dreaming of going anywhere 

but where I was. I didn’t have the money, visa, or 

even good English to begin with. But one thing I 

had for sure was a curious heart waiting for an 

opportunity to be explored. I vividly remember 

that I had this bold inner knowing that I would 

go somewhere far, and I would jump into the 

cold waters impulsively, spontaneously, without 

warning. I didn’t know how this would happen; I 

just knew it would.

The Internet was the answer. It was an answer a 

decade ago, and even more so today. The 

possibilities it offers are limitless. I have turned 

to its unlimited source pretty much for 

everything: finding my education, booking travel, 

finding jobs, locating my coaches, mentors, my 

boyfriends, my mom’s friends, and even a man 

that made me pregnant – twice. Yes, I swiped and 

swiped on dating apps until the swipe became 

my future. (Hold that thought.)

Back to my story that led me to States.

I met my then-boyfriend on the Internet. He was 

working for a large consulting company, and they 

happened to have a branch in my country. And it 

just so happened that he found my profile and 

was dying to meet me. Against different odds and 

many cancellations on my side, we did finally 

meet. He took me to places I had never been and 

showed me new things in the world. Because we 

lived on different continents, our meetings were 

planned in advance, and for a year and a half, I 

lived out of my suitcases to keep this going.

I was jet-setting so often that I barely saw my 

parents, and just like that, my life had changed 

180 degrees until we decided that if we wanted 

to move forward, we should probably stay in one 

place.

By that time, I had gone to a university back 

home and dropped out a semester after when I 

realized that my Public Relations degree would 

serve me only back home. Every cell in my body 

was convinced. I was internally sure that I would 

not have a life back where I had grown up.

The next obvious choice was to move to the 

States. It was a long and tedious process, as it 

always is when you are trying to deal with the 

government. They denied my visa the first time, 

so I had to reapply a year later.

Long story short, I did get my visa and moved to 

San Francisco and enrolled in the university to 

pursue a degree in fashion. It wasn’t my calling, 

to be honest, but at that cloudy time, I didn’t 

know what my calling was. I didn’t have 

everything figured out yet.

But with my move to the States there came an 

end to our relationship because sometimes 

things happen out of our control, like volcano 

explosions, heavy storms, and the economic 

crisis of 2009. My ex had to stay in New York, 

and I went on with my studies in San Francisco.

I realized that it would be unreasonable to 

expect a different outcome. Things rarely stay as 

they are. They evolve with or without our 

consent. Sometimes we just need to let go even if 

we don’t know why.

And once again, I was blessed with a lifetime 

opportunity to do anything my heart desired. I was 

free to be myself. You can’t take that for granted.

You can’t just think that the Universe will do its 

part for you without you taking full-on 

responsibility for doing yours. Realizing that you 

are responsible for your life and for what 

happens next is both frightening and exciting.

This is my invitation for you to reconnect with 

the inner girl living within you and give yourself 

credit for what you’ve been, for what you’ve 

done, and for who you’ve become.

So, pour yourself a glass or cup of something that 

makes your brain tingle and dive in. Girl, we got 

some work to do. If you need a visual, I am 

pouring a cup of cappuccino with a divine foam 

of cashew milk. Tastes delicious! Yep – cashew is 

my favorite flavor for now.

Exercise:

What was your biggest ambition, secret dream 

when you were a teenager still living with your 

parents?

What turned out better than you imagined?

What didn’t quite turn out the way you wanted?

Why do you think that is?

Do you still want the same things?

If you answered YES, write down what you can do 

starting today to go for it.

If no, list brand new things you want for yourself.

In doing so, you’re starting an unforgettable 

conversation with your inner world, and that’s 

what we want you to do – stir up some magic in 

your soul, so we start remembering...

Stories We Tell

Now that we have explored and graded the 

parenting we were raised with, let’s talk about 

our human addictions; patterns, behaviors and 

stories – all the fun things we came here to learn 

and overcome to complete our assignments.

You see, way before we descended on Mama 

Earth, we picked our parents because of the 

lessons they could teach us. Those lessons, 

however, over time, are meant to transform into 

a different substance that like sugar, becomes 

highly addictive. We need to have it because 

we’ve always had it.

If we take an unbiased look at our lives, we will 

soon notice that they consist of new and exciting 

fragments and seasons that usually begin with 

much fascination and dazzling anticipation. But 

as soon as the novelty wears off somehow, the 

stories within these fragments keep repeating 

themselves. Oddly enough, the characters within 

these seasons change, but the outcomes rarely 

do. And even if you pack all of your belongings 

and move across the world, or change your 

nationality, or alter your sexuality, the same 

story will follow you from place to place, from 

human to human. Because we can only reinvent 

what’s on the outside, the inside is trickier, and 

some of us will spend a lifetime mastering this 

pursuit.

Anyhow, this is all very normal and human. Our 

existence and our mental health are based on 

these stories that, once planted in us can only 

live through us. The story needs its human 

collaborator and a believer to live, which makes 

you a perfect candidate. It is, however, a vital 

part of our spiritual adventure too.

We need a story to work on our 

assignments. So, what are these legendary 

stories?

The fact is, there are too many of them. Some are 

loud, and some are so silent that we may not even 

know they are there haunting us, waiting to be 

triggered, looking out for a perfect moment to 

manifest in our lives. Typically, there is one 

massive story we grew up with, so it must be true.

This story is about how one should live, how 

others should communicate and how safe or scary 

the world is. The story may be so ancient that it 

has traveled from generation to generation, and 

you may feel honored to pass it along to your kids, 

but if you love them dearly, please don’t.

To be more precise, the story is someone’s 

fantasy. It is someone’s limited or wild

imagination about a subject they have poor (or 

no) knowledge of. So, to believe someone’s story 

is like waiting for a middle-aged man to arrive in a 

red costume and silver beard on the night of 

December 24th. He’ll never come, and you’ll be 

waiting forever.

Because of the stories once told, we then spend 

years in the dark, being scared of our own 

shadow, limiting ourselves, drawing lines in the 

sand telling us how far we’re allowed to go. All 

because those old uninspiring stories changed 

the way we perceive the world. It is only a 

perception that no one else but us believes in, 

but its force is undeniably monstrous.

It’s so monstrous it manifests in every single 

area of our lives. Unfortunately, we are bonded 

to the negative stories more than we are to 

positive ones.

You see, because grownups told us these stories, 

we were obliged to listen, observe, and take in 

every particle, cementing them in our brains as 

the most truthful information coming from the 

most trustful source. By grownups, I mean 

anyone older than you – your siblings, your 

friends, your relatives, your teachers, your early 

bosses, and of course, your parents.

Our immature brain, which was once fertile soil 

for accepting seeds of all kinds, has now grown 

into majestic trees shadowing reality. That 

teacher who said you’ll become ‘a nobody’ 

because you haven’t memorized the periodic 

table. That uncle who said you’ll never become a 

business owner because you can’t count. All 

those people have decided that you will never be 

someone of worth because of something really 

silly you have or haven’t done.

And then we grow up believing we can’t apply 

for a job we’d like to have, or ask for a raise, or 

get what we want because we thought our 

teacher was right, and so was our uncle – both 

whose lives didn’t turn out to be anything worth 

talking about.

Then there are the intimate stories born within 

our households accompanied by bold images of 

what a family structure looks like or how a 

mother or father should be. They teach us what 

love is and how it looks and feels. 

This why we tend to look for husbands 

reminding us of our not-so-perfect fathers, and 

why it’s so easy to be like our mothers. This is 

why we are ready to date a fossil double our age 

if we never had a present father. Even if we have 

no aspirations to become our parents or to 

choose them as our partners, if we do not 

interfere and shake things up, all the roads will 

lead the way to end up there – at the very place 

we tried to escape. We become them.

We are wired to be attracted to people and

choose situations and relationships where our 

pain points get triggered, where we are 

reminded of where we came from, and what we 

stand for. And then we choose to stay in these 

places because it’s all we know. It feels familiar 

and homelike, even if it’s unhealthy and toxic. 

But we’d rather stay in what we know...

Unless... we choose to take a conscious part in 

our spiritual assignment and crush the pattern, 

dismantling its roots and telling ourselves and 

the others a different story that will end 

suffering and pain so natural for our human 

ways. The story where we respond differently to 

life’s triggers and therefore transform our lives 

to its bones.

Because the only truth there is: Most people are 

completely delusional about their own skills and 

capabilities. Especially women. The majority of 

women. We believe we need someone’s blessing, 

permission to do the things we want. Because we 

have done that since we were little girls, unlike 

boys – who rarely, if ever, will read their 

mother’s face to decide if they should stay or go. 

They didn’t need permission, not then, not now.

Maybe that explains why men are generally more 

confident throughout life. They go for 

opportunities when they feel sixty-five percent 

qualified while women wait to feel a hundred 

percent qualified, still to this day in 2020.

We won’t apply for a job if we think we lack one 

bullet point on a job description; we won’t ask 

for a raise and think we need to work twice as 

hard. Or we don’t even believe we can earn 

anything, let alone be successful.

Sadly though, no one is ever one hundred 

percent ready, less busy, or qualified.

So, it sounds really foolish to base our future on 

someone else’s opinion of us when we were 

young and vulnerable, and believed anything we 

were told, but if things were that easy, everyone 

would live on superpowers.

Why don’t we drop the stories that nobody 

even believes except ourselves?

This stuff is sticky, tattoo-like, and that means 

hardly removable (just ask anyone trying to get 

ink removed that was a tribute to their ex). But 

Angelina Jolie apparently did it, Eva Longoria did 

it, and so did Heidi Klum.

The point is: it’s possible to replace the story 

you’ve been told. Which means it’s possible to 

start fresh, with a clean slate, and tattoo a new 

story if you absolutely must. One that inspires, 

motivates, and never makes you think of yourself 

as less than what you are.

It’s nearly impossible to achieve great things 

when you’re telling an old story.

Anything your heart desires is possible, but 

you’ve got to move out of your own way, which 

means deciding here and now who you are and 

what you’re capable of. You’ve got to lose your 

fascination with stories that we both know aren’t 

real. You’ve got to drop the attachment to the 

story that has been holding you back. Because if 

you can’t replace the story, then you need to give 

birth to a new one.

What I would like you to do now is to recognize 

the uninspiring stories that keep manifesting in 

your life. Become clear on naming the personal, 

intimate, disruptive stories that stay in the way 

of you having an extraordinary experience on 

this planet. What stories have you been telling 

yourself and the rest of the world? Scribble it all 

down, including phrases someone else planted 

in you.

Who helped you shape your story? Scribble down 

their names.

When did this happen? When did this story come 

to life? How many years ago did you say to 

yourself who you are and who you aren’t?

When did you start to believe that it must be true?

When did you define who you are?

How are these stories manifesting in your life?

How are they stopping you from living your best 

life?

What will happen if you keep telling these stories 

of who you are and what you’re capable of for the 

next five years?

Where will you be a decade from now if you keep 

believing these stories?

How would it feel not to worry about this 

anymore?

How would your life transform?

Are you willing to set yourself free from it?

Now that we’ve rewound many years back and 

found the wrongful seeds, it is time to fast 

forward to many decades from now. Let’s 

imagine for a minute that we have a multi

layered cake in front of us with lit candles that 

say seventy-five. We are there in our living room 

surrounded by guests we love dearly, all 

warming up the room with their beautiful 

presence. We take our time and look at each of 

their glowing faces and feel a wave of gratitude 

entering our body. In this eternal moment, you 

think to yourself, how blessed the majority of 

your years have been, and how each of your 

guests standing here has contributed to your 

life’s magic in the most unexpected and loving 

ways ever known. Your eyes are tearful, and 

sunshine floods your soul. And then, right before 

it’s time to make your seventy-fifth wish on 

Mama Earth, you scan the room once again, and 

your eyes meet a young woman standing in the 

front of you. Suddenly, there are no more guests, 

and it’s just you and her. She is happy and 

unsure, and has many questions spinning in her 

head, impatiently wanting to be answered. She 

wants you to answer because here, maybe as 

much as fifty years apart from each other, your 

past and future are facing one another. 

You blow the candle and invite the woman into 

your room and pour a cup of warm cinnamon tea 

and share a slice of the cake. You sit comfortably 

and take a deep breath before you begin. The 

young woman can’t take her eyes away from you. 

She is trying to remember every detail of you 

because she knows she only has a minute to 

glance into the future through your knowledge

filled eyes. It will all end too soon and the young 

woman doesn’t want to miss any of it.

Who are you? Are you a silver-haired woman 

with a neatly organized bun wearing pearls, or 

are you a bohemian goddess, with a wild cheetah 

dazzling from within?

Find a quiet space. Close your eyes. Imagine this 

wise woman, picturing as many details as 

possible – her hair, her face, her body, her smell, 

her style. Now place your palm on your heart 

and ask whatever your heart wants to know 

about now or the future. Remember, you only 

have a minute, so make it worthy. Then open 

your eyes and write down everything you saw, 

heard, and remember.

What was her life? What’s the singular most 

valuable lesson about the life she shared with you?

Who, and what, did she tell you not to be afraid of?

With this information at hand, would you rewrite 

the story of who you are and who you came here 

to be?


About the author

Kristina Razinska is a fashion merchandiser by trade, turned life coach and author. She is exploring trending views on relationships, and attitudes towards life, love, and self-love. She is also the founder of www.passionistahub.com where she inspires others to live with the heart. view profile

Published on October 01, 2020

Published by

40000 words

Genre: Inspirational

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