Let me share with you one of my proud moments of 2018. 😊 Last year I took a one month course to improve my songwriting in English. During this course, I was forced to sit down and focus on writing on a certain topic as an exercise without worrying what comes out. When I started spending time every day on putting words together I realised I can actually express myself in English! 
I’ve been doing creative writing in Russian since childhood and I am happy with my abilities to write in my native language but was quite disappointed not being able to express myself in English.
I overcome my fear of sounding silly when contacting my English speaking subscribers and started doing weekly broadcasts to my followers. It feels great being able to connect with my audience. On top of that yesterday I received a message that one of my pieces have been published in our local newspaper Glasshouse Country & Maleny News. I’m happy to get to the level when my writing in English is good enough to be published. Yay! 😃
The story that was published:

beerwah mountain

“Irresistible flash of inspiration flares up lightening me on the inside. I can’t help but follow the sudden calling, turning my vehicle off the everyday path and taking it on a detour. It has just stopped raining, white evaporations are hovering over the wet shimmering asphalt that disappears under the rotating wheels. Fifteen minute drive separates us but I know She is closer than that. I can already sense Her noble presence. Trees are too tall, too dense to see anything behind them yet. But wait, I just caught a glimpse of Her proud strong posture standing still, looming through the tree trunks that are hastily flashing past. My heart races. I’m going to see Her again, absorb Her mighty energy infused with the warmth of a caring mother. In anticipation, I turn off the main road, the trees part, revealing the magnificent view of Mount Beerwah. Here I am at Her feet feeling so tiny and so blessed to stand next to this majestic mountain emitting calmness and peace, turning all my worries into dust picked up by the light wind and spread over the valley. The rustle of leaves, the birds tweeting, the gentle movements of summer wind, the dewy smell of recent rain and resinous pines – all together merge into a beautiful music. Music of my soul.” 🌄

Walking in the forest is truly rejuvenating. Blessed quietness interrupted only by a pleasant chirp and the sound of twigs crackling that comes from beneath my feet eases my mind. I stroke a large tree trunk with my palm feeling its rough texture. I open my arms wide and embrace the trunk sensing the warm energy surrounding the woody surface. I stand like that for a while absorbing the calmness emanating from the tree. My cheek is pressed against the embossed bark surface, I can smell a coniferous scent. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the pine smell as if I was saving it for later, taking it with me to the crowded city buzzing with everyday life. It’s an old prominent tree with big branches spread wide, offering a warm hug to every traveller walking past. I am trying to see this world through the eyes of the tree: how many strangers had he hugged through all this years, how many stories had he listened to standing in the cordial embrace: silent, kind and understanding? How many beautiful sunrises had he witnessed tickled by the tenacious little claws of brisk  restless birds, being home to some furry animals, standing here abidingly and faithfully through all those years? “Thank you, tree!” I say in my mind, feeling the warmth of gratitude running through my veins, irrigating the valleys of my soul blossoming with flowers once again. I continue walking leaving the sublime posture of the hospitable tree behind, disappearing in the foliage of the forest….

This morning I stepped out of the lifts and saw a pretty butterfly sitting on the wall. I said: “Oh you, poor thing, You spent all night locked in this tiny corridor. Come here I’ll get you out of here.” To my surprise she climbed my finger and happily sat there till I brought her back to our balcony and helped her to take off and fly away. With pleasant satisfaction I took elevator back to the ground floor, stepped out of it and bumped into the butterfly sitting on the same spot again – dejavú! “No way! You couldn’t fly back so quickly! Ok, I’ll help you to get out of here again.” Just before I offered a hand to the “poor” butterfly I looked up and saw another one exactly like that under the ceiling, and another one near the painting… And they looked like twins and quite happy… “Oh, they must be moths trying to get some sleep. Oops. I’m off for a walk!” 🏃😂

Сегодня утром я вышла из лифта и заметила на стене нашего коридора маленькую симпатичную бабочку. “Ах, ты моя бедняжечка! Ты всю ночь ютилась в этом тесном коридоре без воды и еды! Я тебе сейчас помогу!” Я подставила руку к стене, и к моему удивлению, бабочка неспешно забралась на мой указательный палец. Я отнесла её на наш балкон, протянула руку и сказала: “Лети!” Но малышка не торопилась оставлять своё тёпленькое место. Пришлось её подтолкнуть. С приятным чувством удовлетворения я снова зашла в лифт и поехала на первый этаж. Выхожу, и нос к носу сталкиваюсь с той же бабочкой на той же стене. Дежавю! Я уже было собралась снова предложить ей руку помощи, как вдруг заметила ещё одну точно такую же под потолком, и ещё одну такую же у картины, и ещё… “Ой, да это же мотыльки, которые пытаются поспать!” Упс. Пойду-ка, прогуляюсь…


Sometimes I feel that there is a little guitar inside of me, somewhere within the left side of my chest. Various external stimuli pluck and tug at the strings compelling them to vibrate, filling the room, where my soul dwells, with sounds.

Sometimes the sounds interweave beautifully, creating a harmony inside me. But occasionally a wild string is struck which then gives off a wolf note that brings on dissonance and irritability.

It also happens, that there is complete chaos and disharmony within that room, which does not get any better no matter which string I pluck. This is a sure sign that it is time to stop and submerge myself into complete quietness and to re-tune my guitar, so that, the room where the soul dwells, once again is filled with caressing sounds and harmony…


Иногда у меня бывает ощущение, что внутри меня есть маленькая гитарка, где-то в левой части груди. И различные внешние раздражители как-бы цепляются ха струны, заставляя их вибрировать, наполняя мою комнату души звуками. 

Иногда звуки переплетаются красиво, создавая в душе гармонию. А иногда случайно цепляется шальная струна, и внутри возникает диссонанс и раздражительность. 

А бывает и такое, что внутри полный хаос и дисгармония, за какую бы струну ни потянула. Это верный знак того, что пора остановиться, погрузиться в полную тишину и настроить свою гитару, чтобы комната вновь наполнилась ласкающими слух звуками и гармонией. 


Last night I have experienced a touch of magic… or the power of thought, whatever you call it…
We were playing a game with 5 y.o. Lileana. Before throwing a dice she said she wanted to get “SIX”. But she’s got “TWO” instead. I looked at her cunningly, took the dice, gently whispered: “Magic-magic, send me SIX” and threw it. It was SIX. Lilee got upset and impatiently threw the dice. It was only ONE. I repeated the same spell with the full heart and received SIX again. Lilee grabbed the dice, threw it with the words “I want six too!” But, alas, it was 2. Poor child was getting mad, on other hand – I was calm and content whispering my spell and throwing the dice.
I had “SIX” for SIX times in a row while Lilee was getting mostly 1 and 2. But even when she got 5 she wasn’t happy. “This is not fair! You are tricking me!” – cried out Lilee with eyes full of tears.

“Lilee, do you know what the trick is? You need to learn to be grateful for what you get. Only when you appreciate little things you will be able to receive more. So next time you get a small number try to smile and say “Thank you. I am one step closer”.
Lilee threw the dice again and saw “ONE”. This time she bowed, said “Thank you” and giggled. Her next turn she’s got SIX!
That night our game turned into a visual life lesson. And I am still in awe: I never ever had “6” for SIX times in a row!

Once upon a time there lived a girl – a guinea pig, called Masha.

She was cheeky like the girl from  “Masha and The Bear,”  

only she looked more like The Bear: brown, hairy and a bit clumsy.

One day we decided to get her a girlfriend who would keep her a company and fill her days with more fun.

The new girl we called Dasha. 

Masha and Dasha went along really well. Sometimes I would walk pass and suddenly stop admiring them peacefully cleaning each other’s fur or just cuddling.

Days went pass. I tried not to disturb their little wooden house but this morning I opened the cage determined to clean inside their home, and..oh my! There were THREE guinea pigs!

I immediately got my phone out and called my husband asking when he brought another guinea pig and why he didn’t tell me. His answer made me even more puzzled: he didn’t know anything about the third guinea pig.  “A foundling?” – I asked myself. “Someone played a joke and secretly put this little guinea into our cage? That doesn’t sound right. Or maybe… no that can’t be true… Did our girl guinea pigs had a baby??? Which means one of them is actually a BOY!” After going through all the possible options I came up with the conclusion:  WE HAD A BABY!

baby guinea pig

After bonding for a little while with our new baby (oh, it’s so adorable!) I decided to expand my knowledge reading a few articles how to care about baby guinea pigs and their mothers. That’s when I saw the warning: I had to immediately put father into a different cage or soon enough there would be more babies! Oh.

I spent half a day scrutinising the pet’s genitals (instead of doing my assignment) and comparing them with those on the pictures until I established the father. It was Masha. “Oh, cheeky Masha. Let’s give you a boy name. How about… Misha?” Misha (Mishka) also means a BEAR (in Russian). It all fell into places: Bear-looking Masha now had a perfect name!

Sadly I had to find him another home.      masha and the bear

I just started looking for some options when my friend and guitarist Misha has arrived to help painting my Studio. I mentioned that I was looking for a new home for my guinea pig and Misha said:

– Hey, we’ve got two boys – guinea pigs. We’d love to have another guinea pig. What’s his name?

– Eh… Misha.

That day Misha the guitarist left our home with Misha the guinea pig, who went along with the other boy guinea pigs really well…  I hope they ARE boys…  We will know soon enough… 😉


Жила-была морская свинка Маша. Совсем, как озорная Маша из мультика “Маша и медведь”, только похожая на медведя: коричневая, мохнатая и слегка неуклюжая.

Однажды мы решили найти Маше подружку, чтоб вместе было веселей. Новую свинку мы назвали Дашей.

Маша и Даша сразу подружились. Иногда, проходя мимо клетки, я замирала и любовалась тем, как девочки мирно копошились в углу, чесали друг-другу спинки и чистили шерсть.

Дни шли свои чередом.

Обычно я старалась лишний раз не беспокоить деревянный домик для свинок, но этим прекрасным утром мне захотелось его почистить. Я приподняла дом, и чуть не подпрыгнула от удивления. Из под укрытия выбежали ТРИ свинки. “Когда? Куда? Откуда?” Я схватила телефон и начала звонить мужу с вопросами, когда он принёс новую свинку, и почему мне не сообщил. Ответ мужа окончательно ввёл меня в ступор: он ничего такого не знает, и понятия не имеет, о чем там я там говорю. “Подкидыш?” – озадаченно подумала я, “Кто-то решил пошутить, и тайно подложил нам ещё одну свинку? Не-е, как-то маловероятно. А может… Нет, не может быть! Наши девочки родили малышку-свинку? Это означает, что одна из них на самом деле – мальчик!” Перебрав в голове всевозможные варианты, я пришла к заключению: “У нас родился бэйбик!”

Наобнимавшись и насюсюкавшись с малышкой-свинкой, я решила пополнить свои знания в области морских свинок: как заботиться о бэйбиках и их родителях. Вот тогда я наткнулась на ПРЕДУПРЕЖДЕНИЕ: нужно незамедлительно пересадить отца в отдельную клетку, иначе жди очередного пополнения. Ох! Вопрос: который из них отец.

Я провела пол дня разглядывая гениталии свинок, сравнивая их с фото на ветеринарном вебсайте (вместо того, чтобы писать дипломную работу), до тех пор пока я окончательно не постановила: отец малышки – свинка Маша. “Эх, Маша! Давай-ка мы тебе подберём другое имя. Теперь ты будешь свин Миша. Мишка. Прямо как мишка из мультика “Маша и медведь” – коричневый, мохнатый и слегка неуклюжий. Отлично! Вот только теперь тебе нужно искать новый дом. Э-эх!”

Только я уселась за компьютер в поисках новой семьи для Мишки, как ко мне приехал друг и гитарист Миша. Он примчался на помощь мне, красить мою будущую студию. Я поделилась новостью и Миша воскликнул:

– А у нас 2 морские свинки – мальчики! Мы с удовольствием приютим ещё одного. Как его зовут?

– Э-э-э… Миша. 🙂

В тот день Миша-гитарист забрал с собой Мишу-свинку, который моментально подружился с другими мальчиками-свинкам. Ну… я надеюсь, что они мальчики. Время покажет… :)))