Thursday, 31 May 2018

How far would you go to get what you want?



Old European port town, here from the very dawn buried in reading. Seagulls break from under the feet of passers-by and fly away gliding between the sky and the sea. The sound of the morning bell is heard. Along the street, there is a row of coffee shops, umbrellas, tables. The rustling of freshly printed newspapers. The light reflects from the walls and windows and forenoon becomes more alive and saturated. The town slowly and lazily wakes up. 

It is difficult to underestimate the influence of the atmosphere on us. The best books we love for the atmosphere in which they immerse us. The same about films and photos. The role of the setting in our lives is often overlooked.

Sending the letter from the old post office, so old that it smells of sealing wax and has ancient doors, and when you look out the window, you could even spot the distant past. Well, the same past from childhood, when it is still unknown what lies ahead. My attempted to be neat handwriting on the envelope will fly to Saint Petersburg, one of my other pasts. My dear ones are scattered all over the world, they live their own fortunes, and we are affixed with thin red threads, keep moving away from our collective nodules - intersections.

Everyone in their childhood admired how patched cloud suddenly changed its shape, how the bark of the poplar is so warm, the sedge is sharp, the wave is salty and we lived in this delight of discoveries. The process was all, not the outcome or its expectation.  Everything is bewitching in nature, and nothing is superfluous. In childhood, the magic happening depends on your imagination. The magic window, the courtyard of the house with twisted staircase, a cliff overlooking the silhouette of the city where the clouds are born. And through all this, suddenly recurring entrancement, by a fine thread - we grew up. A consoling cognizance - that when we are adults, miracles return by themselves, when we replace most fears with courage and nerve.

Reading little messages left in iPhone's notepad. A Twitter-diary of life. Quizzical sometimes to peek into the past, dig in these archives and suddenly find that some of the circumstances that you considered bona fide, in fact, had a completely different chassis. Remythologizing. We, after all, tend to embellish, percept something as more dramatic or beguiling, while time erases figments and states the reality.  The people around us become what we look and not fail to find in them. Gaining a valuable skill not to confuse illusions with fantasies. Creativity with an effort to please.  And above all -  sending all the fears and limiting beliefs away.

"The place" - an ambitious and metaphorical film by Paolo Genovese (director of "Perfect Strangers") makes burying your head in your values, perusing how justified are some of our craves. If you really think about it, most of our arcane inward escapisms, fortunately for us, are impracticable. A conceptual "huis clos" and a dialogue film with one but relevant question: how far would you go to get what you want? 

© Elin Vidoff

Monday, 28 May 2018



We're all just walking each other home.


― Ram Dass


Saturday, 26 May 2018

On Theta Waves


Have you noticed? Looking at someone through compassion gives you the “low level” data - the gestalt, the deep kernel of him/her. 

It sometimes lasts several minutes before we overlay it with the mental noise, analytical layers and references. We often forget it. But this is THAT data which has all the answers and out of which we can build a context to everything else when needed.

Looking through compassion is the looking from the place where the mind can’t get. You are not seeing with your physical eyes - you simply KNOW it all. Meet this person completely - you have the whole feeling of him/ her, you know this being at the deepest and the most complete level … you don't need more information...



This is the level where you get with out-of-body or transcendent experiences, lucid dreaming, REM sleep cycle, deep meditations and most powerfully - love ... not the romantic loving... but The Love.


Compassion is the greatest place of your power...


It is like widening the aperture of a camera lens and letting more light in...recalling what we have forgotten.

©  Elin Vidoff 
When you have a dream it doesn't often comes out to you screaming in your face... sometimes the dream almost whispers.. It whispers and it very rarely shouts .. So you have to be ready to hear what is whispering in your ear every day of your life ... (Steven Spielberg)


Friday, 25 May 2018



You can't call it an adventure unless it's tinged with danger. The greatest danger in life, though, is not taking the adventure at all. To have the objective of a life of ease is death. I think we've all got to go after our own Everest (Brian Blessed).

Thursday, 24 May 2018



Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.


― Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths

Sunday, 20 May 2018

Living in your head

Friday, 18 May 2018

Sliding riveries




Chet Baker - the current mood. A light midnight jazz and a missing glass of Martini in hand. Herbal tea would just about do. And if you brew it - a restorative ritual. 

Another long frantic upbeat day overboard collapses into the balmy night. People, intoxicated with satisfaction from the finally arrived late, very late spring, walked along the streets with faces as if just after a very good sex.

The moon froze as if colored with gouache on unwashed, dark-painted glass.  Lights of the city in jazz pacification.

I live by thoughts simultaneously in four cities, scattered from each other just by the distance of unpurchased tickets.

Silence ringing in my ears. Calmness and anticipation. Something astounding is bound to happen. Like pivoting on the edge just after falling in lust and just before falling in love, even if a little bit and for a little bit. For a fantasmic organic chemical top up. The value of cardboard house isn't in it's durability. Not ever jaded to fascinate and get fascinated, with the concealed agenda of a premeditated unremitting quest for interlocking jigsaw, a corresponding tip of Maslow's pyramid...

Few sleepless nights. Surrounding to insomnia. The moonchild. When you are that dazed, the mind gets numbed, but senses become sharper...

Another flight to catch with dawn. A stirring game of alternating few coexisting realities, bringing closer one and distancing another. Stepping in and out. Sliding on the timeline, rotating memories of the future and dreams of the past.

Never quite mastered the art of sensible packing. Now - just looking at still Thames and blinking lights from the terrace, feeling grounded and belonging here for this night. Homecoming. Snuggling soothingly in bed.

On the bed table 5-10 books, reading at the same time. Some swallowing in a day, if get lucky.

Living fragmentally just as well - at the same time reading a bunch of intriguing books.

Can not say devoting myself to one thing. Do I even need to concentrate on one thing? Not sure. Why limiting to tunnel vision. Traversing through a lavish fair of possibilities. I like everything and like the way it all unrolls.

You are bewildered, somewhat lonely and above all free, roused by experimental rummage for unknown insightful occurrences. You study me. Looking at the soul as a window. Giving yourself away, though whisper would be enough.

Connected by thin intangible inter-exchanging threads of conversations and touches, in misfired search for a lifelike or larger than life depths of intimacy, we tenderly embrace each other in the interim to avoid feeling emptiness around. Sporadically,  numb amnesia appeals more than void.  I rotary dial. Your familiar hoarse voice distorted by the wires. Our clandestines fly over the dozing roofs of the spring city.


© Elin Vidoff

Wednesday, 16 May 2018

Your mirrors



When you are a mirror-person, you happen to hear the phrase from others - "Oh, we are so much alike, and you are even worse than me!...." Ironic distortion.

People whose personalities and actions tend to push our buttons or who get under our skin are generally our pronounced teachers. They serve as our mirrors and illuminate what needs to be revealed, about ourselves and the path we are now on. Magnified pictures of our weaknesses and deficiencies, surrogates, stuffed feelings, repressed emotions. Your hallucinations, illusions and ancient fears are boldly staring in your face. When there is only one denominator - you. The other is only expressing your own otherness. Those are very clear moments that teach us where it is we are holding back. What to unleash, change, balance or heal.  Declustering. Shifting Perspectives.

“When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready... The teacher will Disappear.”

How many masks do we wear... This is how a person talks with a mother, so with a best friend, such a syllable appears when we talk with a loved one... Sometimes we are wearing a mask or few even in our own internal dialogue. The most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves. 

Maybe they are not even masks - this is how the mechanism of understanding is arranged... You connect with someone on their wave - to know, recognize, empathize. How many waves are we riding simultaneously... Almost a scary thought. Though In essence, we just know how to accept and understand the rules of the game. "Games people play, people that play games." Mastering compartmentalization. Fully present, but detached. The most eloquent stories are created by cynics.

The proximity between people does not arise because they are ideally suited to each other, but because they start to recognize each other... Because they begin to empathize with what the other (and yourself) were or are going through.

The trial and error method works. Mainly it is 
 when you've got a precipitate tendency to adjust your conclusions to random situations, instead of experiencing these situations and not running ahead led by a primal defense mechanism. How many times we have done this before...

Somewhat a skeptical smirking researcher by nature I am. The mechanisms of various behavioral algorithms are truly fascinating. Not forgetting to indulge in self-mocking irony on the way. 

Looking at photos, made over last few years - something that at first sight appears the same, shifts nevertheless. New books on your shelves, new conclusions, new meetings, experiences, trials, attempts, escapades... And stepping forward. Even though sometimes thinking that moving in circles. And always on the edge.

Time goes by. A fat dot. Changing so much and quickly that hardly even pausing to register it. These changes are noticed by your close ones. You are so flawed and imperfect. So many dubious layers. You are in itself a miracle of nature or a natural disaster.

© Elin Vidoff 

Tuesday, 15 May 2018

There are books so alive that you're always afraid that while you weren't reading, the book has gone and changed, has shifted like a river; while you went on living, it went on living too, and like a river moved on and moved away. No one has stepped twice into the same river. But did anyone ever step twice into the same book? (Marina Tsvetaeva)






Sunday, 13 May 2018

Cala Benirras



Benirras beach. Where hippies, dreamers, romantics, free spirits gather and surrender to the wonders of mother nature around them, the ritual going back to 1991 when many hundreds of people joined to protest about the Gulf War. A unique mesmerizing Sunday spectacles when the sun all too soon is descending beneath the waves, while the drummers deliver their awe to it. You watch the drumming circle, and the build-up is sedating but messianic, from a first beat of the first drum. You fall into a trance in this spiritual, tribal experience... The rhythms you are listening too are turning in what you want them to be. You focus on one drummer particular and it alters the way you start to take in the rhythm. This drumming circle is eccentric and unyielding, you don't move and don't want to, eyes closed. This vibe and elation are different from the high-octane hysteria of dancing the night away in Pacha the day before... 

Perceptive conversations over Suntory Hibiki with your accomplice when you are gaining ground after this reverie spectacle. These full mighty presence moments... When you run a marathon. When you are on a chancy journey and wondering what's ahead. When you plant flowers. When it hurt and when it got absolved. When you took shelter from the rain and deliberately walked in the rain. When the embrace is double, as with heart and with soul. When someone truly understands you. When the walls fall, but there is still time. When you are surfing the rapid wave and overlook it is about bound to break at the shallow shore. When the wind blows in 
your face, and there is that yet another turn... When time is judged by the distance of one ticket or one call. When you can't stop smiling from the moment your are awake. Tapping into your five senses. 

© Elin Vidoff

Saturday, 12 May 2018


Friday, 11 May 2018



"When you are free from delusion, you can enjoy illusion. Enjoy the dream but enjoy the dream being free".

As the sun sets in the eve and the wind blows, the birds coast high above. Effortlessly flying, they coast, float, no wings batting; the wind guides them in the blue sky.  
Trust, Faith in life with a bird's eye view; aware, focused, driven, yet detached. An aerial perspective is peace, is freedom.

© Elin Vidoff 

Wednesday, 9 May 2018

Monday, 7 May 2018

...and maybe because of the boiling April sun, he thought about water and ice. Water and ice were made of the same thing. He thought most people were made of the same thing, too. He himself was probably a little different from the corrupt people around him. Ice was distinct from - and in his view, better than - what it was made of. He wanted to be better than what he was made of. In Mumbai's dirty water, he wanted to be ice. He wanted to have ideals (Behind the Beautiful Forevers).





Saturday, 5 May 2018