Zvone – Inner Dialogue

Teaching my Crocodile to Work Already early in the morning, clouds had started gathering above the hills. The air felt heavy and damp, the kind of weather that quietly sticks itself to your skin before you even notice you are sweating. It looked as if rain might arrive at any moment, although it never fully committed itself to the idea. Summer often behaves like that. Threatening effort without actual results. I wandered around the house for a while pretending to do useful things. I moved tools from one place to another, inspected objects that did not require inspection, opened drawers for no particular reason, and occasionally stared thoughtfully at things as if deep concentration alone might somehow organize them. Nothing helped. The truth slowly became obvious. I did not feel like doing anything. My legs felt heavy. My head even heavier. Some invisible force seemed to be pulling me gently but persistently toward the floor. After half an hour of this highly unproductive wandering...

Somewhere Along The Way I Became A Project When Life Still Felt Natural There was a time when life felt much simpler. Not easier.   Just simpler. Back then people still worked hard, worried, fought with life and carried responsibilities on their backs, but somehow there was still room left for ordinary existence. People sat outside in silence without immediately needing to optimize the experience. Nobody measured how many calories they burned while carrying wood or whether staring at clouds increased productivity. Today even relaxation feels like unpaid work. Sometimes I sit with coffee and realize that my mind no longer knows how to simply sit. After three minutes some invisible manager inside my head clears his throat and asks:  “Good. And what exactly are we accomplishing here?” Nothing. That is the whole point. But modern life has trained many of us to feel almost physically uncomfortable when we are not  progressing,  improving,  solving,  bu...

Exhausted but Refuse to Rest One of the strangest things about exhaustion is that I often do not respond to it logically. You would expect a tired human being to simply lie down, sleep, recover, and feel better. Sometimes that happens. Physical exhaustion after healthy effort can lead to deep, satisfying rest. The body collapses into bed and the mind quietly shuts down like an old machine finally allowed to cool. But there is another kind of exhaustion where rest somehow stops feeling restful. You sit on the couch but cannot relax. You scroll your phone instead of sleeping. You are tired all day and somehow even more tired at night. The body wants rest, yet the nervous system behaves as if stopping were dangerous. I used to wonder about that a lot, especially during periods when I felt emotionally burned out. There were evenings when I was so exhausted that even making tea felt like unnecessary mountaineering, yet instead of going to sleep, I would continue staring in...

Begin to Fall Apart Without Meaning? The Strange Heaviness of Doing Nothing There were periods in my life when I physically did almost nothing. No difficult expeditions. No long bicycle rides through deserts. No marathons. Just days spent sitting in front of a screen, drinking coffee that slowly lost its effect somewhere around the third cup, scrolling through endless streams of information that I would barely remember an hour later. And strangely, that kind of exhaustion often felt heavier than cycling eighty kilometers under the strong sun. That always fascinated me. Because logically, rest should help. If a person feels tired, they should recover by doing less. That sounds perfectly reasonable. Sometimes it is true. Physical rest can be wonderful. Sitting quietly by the sea, watching birds circle above the water, can feel deeply peaceful. But there is another kind of inactivity that feels completely different. Not restful, but empty. The strange part is that the body may tec...

What Should I Listen To – My Mind or My Body? The Comfortable Wisdom of Home Before I left for a month-long bicycle trip through the Mexican deserts, I spent quite a lot of time thinking about what would happen when my mind and body eventually started resisting the journey. Not in some dramatic movie-hero way, but practically. What do you actually do when your body says it’s tired and your mind starts producing convincing arguments for why stopping would be the smartest thing imaginable? At home, the answer is simple enough. If I feel exhausted, I sit down. If I feel drained, I make coffee and stare out the window like the main character in one of those slow European films where nothing happens for seven minutes except rain sliding down the glass. If everything hurts, I tell myself that the body needs rest and that should be respected. It sounds healthy and reasonable. Fatigue settles into the legs, the back, the shoulders. The body becomes heavy, almost too heavy to carry from one...

The Slow Way Out Of Anxiety Three Steps Forward, Two Back I move forward slowly these days. Three steps forward, two back.   Sometimes the opposite. Progress is painfully slow, almost ridiculous at times. Occasionally I notice that I have finally moved a little ahead, and just when I begin feeling proud of myself, something drags me backward again. Then I stop and think: " What pushed me back this time?" Usually the answer is not very mysterious. Exhaustion.   Overthinking.   Isolation.   Bad sleep.   Too much sitting.  Too much thinking.   Too little movement. And somewhere behind all of it, anxiety quietly waiting like an old tax collector who never fully leaves town. I know now that I was deeply anxious for years. At the time I did not fully understand it, I thought I was simply tired, stressed, perhaps too thoughtful, maybe even more intelligent than average. Anxious people often secretly flatter themselves this way: “I think de...

Do What You Feel Like Doing. Without Guilt. When Energy Was Not A Problem There was a time when I had endless energy. At least that is how it seems when I look back today. Maybe I did not actually have endless energy. Maybe I was simply too young and too stubborn to notice when the tank was getting empty. Either way, life moved forward at full speed. There was always something that needed to be done. Build a house. Support a family. Buy a car. Learn new skills. Advance at work. Repair things. Help people. Solve problems. The list never ended, but somehow I still found time for things that had no practical purpose at all. I could jump on a bicycle and disappear into nature for an afternoon. I could spend time by the sea, swim for no reason other than enjoying the water, stop to look at flowers, watch birds, admire some strange insect crawling through the grass or simply sit somewhere and enjoy being alive. Back then I never thought about whether these activities were useful. I simpl...

Some Things Cannot Be Restored The Things Time Never Returns Some things in life cannot truly be restored. A missed opportunity.  A day that already passed.  Trust once broken.  Words already spoken.  Moments that disappeared before we realized they mattered. Sometimes I wish I could move time backwards and do certain things differently. Say less. Say more. Stay longer. Leave earlier. Listen better. Be wiser. Be calmer. Be less stupid. Unfortunately life does not include an “undo” button which is probably a good thing. Humanity would spend half its existence repeatedly correcting awkward conversations, regrettable hairstyles and messages that should absolutely never have been sent after midnight. Still, there are moments I would gladly revisit. Not because they were perfect.  But because now I finally understand them. Which is, of course, emotionally useless timing. The Strange Return Of Old Pain What fascinates me is that the things I no lon...

The Embarrassing Archive Inside The Human Brain The Strange Return Of Ancient Mistakes Sometimes, completely without warning, old memories return. Not the beautiful ones, of course. Not peaceful sunsets, childhood happiness or inspiring moments of wisdom. The brain prefers much more important historical material:  embarrassment from 1978. I can sit peacefully drinking coffee, walking somewhere or staring through a window, and suddenly my mind opens some ancient storage folder hidden behind the oldest surviving processor in my head and presents me with a fully restored emotional disaster from fifty years ago. A stupid comment.  An awkward moment.   Something foolish I did in front of other people.   A ridiculous fall.  An argument.   A wrong reaction.   Some tiny social catastrophe that nobody else on Earth remembers anymore. And somehow the emotional impact still arrives fully preserved. Amazing technology, really. The human br...