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What do you do to live your life big?

Updated on April 25, 2012
Beata Stasak profile image

Beata works as a qualified primary school teacher, a councillor for drug and alcohol addiction and a farm caretaker for organic olive grow.

When you struggle to find the right words...

for your thoughts you want to express, you know that your world is shrinking.
for your thoughts you want to express, you know that your world is shrinking.
You try to write your thoughts down to revive your ties to the past.
You try to write your thoughts down to revive your ties to the past.
I have discovered a handwritten letter from 1850 in the historical museum in a small European country I was born.
I have discovered a handwritten letter from 1850 in the historical museum in a small European country I was born.
It makes me think about being human in another time - reading by candle light, a life lived without being able to read at all.
It makes me think about being human in another time - reading by candle light, a life lived without being able to read at all.
Nightfall that brings on absolute darkness. The only heat available is from fire.
Nightfall that brings on absolute darkness. The only heat available is from fire.
When people get sick, they might die, when women give birth neither the child, nor mother may survive.
When people get sick, they might die, when women give birth neither the child, nor mother may survive.
Most people live and die in the exact place they are born.
Most people live and die in the exact place they are born.
Journeys take months and years, if you leave you may never see those poeple who matter to you most.
Journeys take months and years, if you leave you may never see those poeple who matter to you most.
You may not hear any news of them for months, there are no pictures of anyone, only thing you can do is write...
You may not hear any news of them for months, there are no pictures of anyone, only thing you can do is write...
Looking at ink on yellowing paper in my hand I think about the time when people use tools but no machines...
Looking at ink on yellowing paper in my hand I think about the time when people use tools but no machines...
when seasons matter and animals are essential.
when seasons matter and animals are essential.
Childhood is brief and there is no adolescence.
Childhood is brief and there is no adolescence.
There is no vote and you have no say in anything.
There is no vote and you have no say in anything.
You are dead by fifty. Only Sunday off all your working life and the Lord wants you then.
You are dead by fifty. Only Sunday off all your working life and the Lord wants you then.
After few minutes with an ancient letter I am feeling incredibly grateful to be alive today.
After few minutes with an ancient letter I am feeling incredibly grateful to be alive today.
And then, of course, I look at my laptop and wonder...
And then, of course, I look at my laptop and wonder...
...which bit of our life is going to be the most important artefact to people a few generations from now.
...which bit of our life is going to be the most important artefact to people a few generations from now.
I look around on all those places where I spend my holiday...
I look around on all those places where I spend my holiday...
my working days...
my working days...
my life..
my life..
and I realize wherever I look, the words are all around us. Just like yesterday, today also, the words define us...
and I realize wherever I look, the words are all around us. Just like yesterday, today also, the words define us...

Always tell the truth

and feel free.

Said from my perspective,

told in my own words,

words are my passage

to the bigger world.

Little holes in the sky

through which rain

manages to get through.


Words of the bigger world,

that rhymes

freely.

There is no strict form,

just a reason

to ask questions

that I can not answer,

to defend the right

to be wrong,

to repeat one hundred times

that justice delayed

is justice denyed.

To add something

quite deeply personal

and make connection

through poetic images

that talk to me the most.


Words of the bigger world

in small stories

about women,

their loss and longing.

Their loyalty

to those who suffer

daily,

trauma in the eyes,

witnesses of atrocity

literally silenced

has to be revisited

and talked about.


The sweetest words

of them all,

the words to the big women

of the small world.

When was the last time

you have received

a hand-written letter?

That celebration of stillness,

that communion of souls?


My dear old Grandmother,

Mother-in-Law,

God-mother,

auntie,

my dear mother,

lonely women in golden age,

they all say,

it had been some time

since anyone close

has sat down

and written,

pen in hand,

at lenght to them.


A little depth charge from the past.

When I write,

I pour my soul out,

there is no crossing out,

the full consideration

is on the receiver of the letter

yet it is spontaneous

a lovely combination.

Love feeling the writing paper

in my hand

its heaviness,

creaminess,

sensuality.

I see the people,

for whom I write.

A heartfelt letter

carving out a slice of stillness

in a busy day,

a soul-concentration.

The words came strong,

replenishing,

a turning towards authenticity.


I think of the potency of letters

past,

from decades ago:

my grandfather's,

the hand spidery

but the voice strong,

that spiritually softened world

of connection and grace.

Writing sheltered him,

writing shelters me,

from the bigger world

I dream about to enter.


When my Grandmother

received my letter,

she didn't rip open the envelope at once,

but waited for for quietness,

there was something of ritual to it.

It was the shining time

as she read the tonic of my words.


A hand-written letter

arrived

every month

in her letterbox

and filled up

a quiet moment in her heart,

the most immediate breath of life,

the first tiny sun ray of spring,

her heart opens like a landscape

cracking open

after the bitterness of winter,

the world couldn't be bigger,

not for her and not for me.


Emails to my children,

words of happiness

of having them.

We live each day with a light heart

writing to each other

about our truimphs

and our failures

with enough humility

to learn from both.

Everyday words

reminds us

we are more

than our achievements

or mistakes.

We long be free,

and yet we are victims

of our own self image,

slaves to ambitions,

vanity,

ego

and greed.


SMS to my husband

words without obsessions,

life with moderation.

We have found out

long ago,

anything we want too much,

seek too much

and give too much energy to,

will turn around

and bite us,

sooner or later.

Our words

just like us

settled

in the routine,

a well-known pattern of life.


Words to myself,

in my diary,

ready to carry me on,

encouraging me to do anything,

my words

are the living proof

that everything is possible.

The world around you

is just as big

as the words in your mind,

you are what you write....







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