Art by Urška Lan

🌗 Equinox, Eclipse & Self-Worth 🌗

Do you sometimes find yourself undervaluing your work… or constantly pushing to prove you’re enough?
Maybe it feels hard to set your price, to be visible, or to stand tall without fear of rejection.

During the last healing meditation, under the solar eclipse, new moon and equinox, we worked on healing self-worth.
Participants shared how powerful it felt to reconnect with the truth that worth does not depend on achievements or approval, but on deep acceptance of who we are.

But what is self-worth?
It is the inner knowing that we are valuable and enough as we are. It forms the core of our identity, not based merely on achievements or external validation, but on the deep acceptance of ourselves.

Self-worth develops in childhood. The earliest mirrors for a child are the parents: the father as a symbol of the outer world, and the mother as a symbol of safety. When a child receives affirmation from the father—“you are capable, you belong”—healthy confidence forms. Without it, we often seek validation later through success, pleasing, or submission.

It’s important to distinguish:

Confidence relates to what we can do.

Self-worth is broader—it is the right to exist, to love, to create, regardless of outcome.

We experience self-worth in different dimensions:

Inner voice: critical voices diminish it, supportive voices strengthen it.

Body: the right to take up space, to breathe fully, to feel pleasure.

Relationships: the ability to set healthy boundaries that protect our worth.

Work & creativity: trusting that what we create matters and deserves fair recognition.

From a psychological perspective, the father symbolizes our relationship to the outer world—work, achievement, status, material foundation. If this bond is weak, we may feel “not enough” and try to prove ourselves through overwork or perfectionism. As adults, we have the chance to cultivate an inner father—an inner authority that confirms our worth and trust in ourselves.

With the equinox, when feminine and masculine, day and night, are in balance, we also reflected on the balance between giving and receiving.

Healthy self-worth means we can:

give from fullness (not from a need for approval),

receive without guilt (trusting that we are worthy of gifts, payment, love).

Self-worth is the inner foundation from which confidence, healthy relationships, and meaningful work arise. It is not something we need to earn, but something we can become aware of, heal, and reactivate—through connection with ourselves and with life.

Would you like support in expressing yourself more freely, standing up for your work, and setting clear boundaries?

🌑 In September, my online healing meditations (Sundays at 7:30 pm CET) are dedicated to the theme of Self-Worth. You can join by registering through the link in the comments.

We live in a society of achievement, where worth is often measured by career success. Yet even when we achieve, shadows of doubt can overshadow joy. The good news is: self-worth can always be healed and expanded—by softening the inner critic, setting healthy boundaries, caring for our bodies, receiving with openness, and trusting that we are already valuable simply by being.

Shells
When the kids were little, one of the biggest joys of the sea were the shells.
I mean—searching for them, diving, playing, and collecting them along the way.
We gathered them like treasures, paraded them home like trophies.
And then, over the years, they quietly drifted through the house—from shelf to shelf, box to box—like fragments of a memory.

But with time comes awareness.
I began to realize that shells are actually dead bodies—empty homes, remnants of life. In a way, as if we were keeping bones.
As I started exploring Feng Shui more deeply, I learned that, just like dried flowers, shells don’t carry the energy of life into a space.

And so, I made a decision.
We would return them. Back to the sea.
To the water from which they came—through a ritual, with love and reverence.

During the final days of our vacation, I dove into the water with intention. But as soon as I submerged, a tightness seized my chest.
The sea felt empty. Desolate.
A few grey fish. A barren sea floor. And that stunning turquoise blue, stretching endlessly in all directions.
Though I adore turquoise, this time it felt heavy. Stifling. A vast, aching emptiness.

And then it hit me: I was part of this.
Even with the best intentions—like when I encouraged a friend to collect shells for us, which we cleaned, polished, and painted with the kids—it had seemed like harmless fun.
But now, the barrenness of the sea stung like quiet guilt.

Then I remembered: I had brought back a small collection of unpainted shells.
A few would return home.
So I offered them back to the sea—from the heart—with a feeling of apology for my part in this depletion.

And in that exact moment, a school of shimmering fish appeared around me.
The water came alive—different species swirling and gliding by.
It was as if the sea said:
“Thank you. I hear you. We’re in this together.”

I kept swimming.
In the distance, something shimmered.
I hoped for an abalone shell, with its iridescent rainbow glow. Excited, I swam closer.

And I saw it—
A soda can.
My heart sank. A painful reflection of where we are: cans on a ravaged sea floor.
I wrestled with the thought of diving deeper to retrieve it. My ears always hurt with deep dives, but the urge to act was strong.
As I hovered there, undecided, I noticed something next to the can:

A large, vibrant red sea star.
A moment of reconnection. A sign.
It felt like nature was saying:
“You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes just being here, present and willing, is enough.”

On our last day, my daughter and I returned the shells to the sea.
A small ritual, with gratitude.
Some we placed in the shallows—for another child to discover and be delighted, as we once were.
Others, we released into the deeper blue—back into the silence of the underwater world.

Shells
When the kids were little, one of the biggest joys of the sea were the shells.
I mean—searching for them, diving, playing, and collecting them along the way.
We gathered them like treasures, paraded them home like trophies.
And then, over the years, they quietly drifted through the house—from shelf to shelf, box to box—like fragments of a memory.

But with time comes awareness.
I began to realize that shells are actually dead bodies—empty homes, remnants of life. In a way, as if we were keeping bones.
As I started exploring Feng Shui more deeply, I learned that, just like dried flowers, shells don’t carry the energy of life into a space.

And so, I made a decision.
We would return them. Back to the sea.
To the water from which they came—through a ritual, with love and reverence.

During the final days of our vacation, I dove into the water with intention. But as soon as I submerged, a tightness seized my chest.
The sea felt empty. Desolate.
A few grey fish. A barren sea floor. And that stunning turquoise blue, stretching endlessly in all directions.
Though I adore turquoise, this time it felt heavy. Stifling. A vast, aching emptiness.

And then it hit me: I was part of this.
Even with the best intentions—like when I encouraged a friend to collect shells for us, which we cleaned, polished, and painted with the kids—it had seemed like harmless fun.
But now, the barrenness of the sea stung like quiet guilt.

Then I remembered: I had brought back a small collection of unpainted shells.
A few would return home.
So I offered them back to the sea—from the heart—with a feeling of apology for my part in this depletion.

And in that exact moment, a school of shimmering fish appeared around me.
The water came alive—different species swirling and gliding by.
It was as if the sea said:
“Thank you. I hear you. We’re in this together.”

I kept swimming.
In the distance, something shimmered.
I hoped for an abalone shell, with its iridescent rainbow glow. Excited, I swam closer.

And I saw it—
A soda can.
My heart sank. A painful reflection of where we are: cans on a ravaged sea floor.
I wrestled with the thought of diving deeper to retrieve it. My ears always hurt with deep dives, but the urge to act was strong.
As I hovered there, undecided, I noticed something next to the can:

A large, vibrant red sea star.
A moment of reconnection. A sign.
It felt like nature was saying:
“You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes just being here, present and willing, is enough.”

On our last day, my daughter and I returned the shells to the sea.
A small ritual, with gratitude.
Some we placed in the shallows—for another child to discover and be delighted, as we once were.
Others, we released into the deeper blue—back into the silence of the underwater world.

Shells
When the kids were little, one of the biggest joys of the sea were the shells.
I mean—searching for them, diving, playing, and collecting them along the way.
We gathered them like treasures, paraded them home like trophies.
And then, over the years, they quietly drifted through the house—from shelf to shelf, box to box—like fragments of a memory.

But with time comes awareness.
I began to realize that shells are actually dead bodies—empty homes, remnants of life. In a way, as if we were keeping bones.
As I started exploring Feng Shui more deeply, I learned that, just like dried flowers, shells don’t carry the energy of life into a space.

And so, I made a decision.
We would return them. Back to the sea.
To the water from which they came—through a ritual, with love and reverence.

During the final days of our vacation, I dove into the water with intention. But as soon as I submerged, a tightness seized my chest.
The sea felt empty. Desolate.
A few grey fish. A barren sea floor. And that stunning turquoise blue, stretching endlessly in all directions.
Though I adore turquoise, this time it felt heavy. Stifling. A vast, aching emptiness.

And then it hit me: I was part of this.
Even with the best intentions—like when I encouraged a friend to collect shells for us, which we cleaned, polished, and painted with the kids—it had seemed like harmless fun.
But now, the barrenness of the sea stung like quiet guilt.

Then I remembered: I had brought back a small collection of unpainted shells.
A few would return home.
So I offered them back to the sea—from the heart—with a feeling of apology for my part in this depletion.

And in that exact moment, a school of shimmering fish appeared around me.
The water came alive—different species swirling and gliding by.
It was as if the sea said:
“Thank you. I hear you. We’re in this together.”

I kept swimming.
In the distance, something shimmered.
I hoped for an abalone shell, with its iridescent rainbow glow. Excited, I swam closer.

And I saw it—
A soda can.
My heart sank. A painful reflection of where we are: cans on a ravaged sea floor.
I wrestled with the thought of diving deeper to retrieve it. My ears always hurt with deep dives, but the urge to act was strong.
As I hovered there, undecided, I noticed something next to the can:

A large, vibrant red sea star.
A moment of reconnection. A sign.
It felt like nature was saying:
“You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes just being here, present and willing, is enough.”

On our last day, my daughter and I returned the shells to the sea.
A small ritual, with gratitude.
Some we placed in the shallows—for another child to discover and be delighted, as we once were.
Others, we released into the deeper blue—back into the silence of the underwater world.

If you’ve been feeling restless, irritable, sleepless, or inflamed… it may be a sign of excess fire energy.

In the coming days, give yourself permission to retreat into silence and stillness — before you burn out unnecessarily.

Below, you’ll find some supportive tips to help you navigate the intensity in the air with more ease and grace:

⸻

☀️ Greet the rising sun.
Catch the sunrise for the next three days and fully absorb it. Imagine drinking in the light through your skin, eyes, and heart. It helps reset your biological clock and sharpen your focus.
Also, listen to nature waking up — the wind, water, birds…

⸻

💧 Drink water with intention.
Add a pinch of natural salt, a drop of lemon, and a few grains of sugar — for true cellular hydration. In the heat, this isn’t just advice — it’s essential. Before drinking, hold the water in your hands for a few moments and charge it with your intention.

⸻

🥗 Cooling, light, yin nourishment:
• Favor hydrating foods: watermelon, cucumber, leafy greens, mint, lime, strawberries.
• Reduce yang foods: spicy, fried, meat, alcohol, coffee.
• Light, nourishing protein supports your balance — these days are not meant for fasting or depletion.

⸻

🔥 Between 11 AM and 1 PM — slow down.
This is the time of Heart and Fire. Calm your system with gentle breathing, light stretching, or a cooling herbal drink (recipe below).

⸻

💎 Between 9 PM and 11 PM — wind down.
This is the time of the Triple Heater. Turn off screens, quiet your thoughts, and stretch gently. It’s the perfect moment for breathwork or healing sounds.

⸻

🌍 Feet on the ground, body in the water.
Connect with nature. Ground yourself or take a swim — simple and deeply restorative. Watch the sunrise or sunset. Breathe in the scent of earth.

⸻

🌬️ Belly breathing — your inner reset button.
Breathe deeply into your pelvis. Let your exhale be longer than your inhale. This calms your nervous system and clears the mind.

⸻

📴 Reduce noise, increase awareness.
Limit the chaos from news and digital distractions. Focus on your vision and what truly matters.

⸻

🌱 Focus on what you want to grow.
Let your thoughts, words, and actions nurture your energy — not deplete it.

⸻

😴 Rest is not a luxury — it’s a wise investment.
If you’re tired, take 30 minutes of silence, a short nap, or a nature break. Your body knows what it needs.

⸻

🎯 Set clear goals for the next 6 months.
What do you want to build? Who are you becoming? What actions will support this growth?

⸻

🌿 Summer Solstice Elixir
For clarity, focus, calm, and better sleep during peak yang energy.

Ingredients:
• 1 tsp chestnut honey
• ½ tsp rosehip powder (or seabuckthorn powder / juice of ¼ lemon)
• Pinch of natural salt (sea, rock, or Himalayan)
• 1 drop yarrow or lemon balm tincture (or 1 tsp lemon balm syrup)
• Pinch of nettle powder (or use nettle tea as the base)
• Warm water (approx. 40°C / 104°F)

Preparation:
Add ingredients to warm water (not hotter than 40°C). Stir and drink slowly and mindfully, preferably in the morning or early afternoon.

Effects:
• Enhances grounded focus
• Supports nervous system balance
• Nourishes adrenal glands
• Prevents overheating
• Encourages calm, clear decisions

⸻

💫 Summer Solstice Ritual:
• Fire element (yang) — on Saturday: Write down what you wish to strengthen — your light, creativity, courage.
• Water element (yin) — on Friday (a detox day): Write what you’re ready to release — exhaustion, old wounds, unnecessary comparisons.

Then burn or release the paper into water — ideally in nature.

⸻

🌞 Let the sun remind you that you always carry the power of regeneration, inspiration, and new vision.

This is not a time to rush — but to be consciously present.
Your inner light shines brightest when nourished with balance

🎨 STABLE GROWTH 🎨
(acrylic on canvas)

Sharing with you a glimpse of my journey through portals.

As my mentor Yuri Yatsko once said – he found it incredible how I seem to mature and evolve through my own paintings – my portals.

For years, I felt like I was building my own foundation, brick by brick – placing them beneath myself in order to grow.

Today, I’m sharing one of the most boring paintings I ever created.
Well, at least it felt like that back then.

The painting Stable Growth radiates a slow, calm, yet unwavering current.
It invites you to trust the process – even when it brings no fireworks, but only foundation.

When I painted this portal, I was yearning for peaks. Spotlights. Intensity.
This kind of flow seemed so slow to me, it bored me.
It felt like nothing was happening.
But now I understand – it was always moving.
Just in a way I wasn’t yet able to receive.

Life has a way of guiding us.
It brings challenges.
It shakes us – and if we don't wake up, it shakes harder.
And one day, you find yourself on your knees, craving the very thing you once dismissed:
Stability. Safe growth. Peace.

Today, as part of my First 100 project – where I call the owners of my healing paintings – I had a conversation with an incredible businesswoman.
And as we spoke, I felt the pulse of this portal again.

Because when you begin life anew – stability becomes a gift.

This painting now holds an entirely new power for me –
in it, I recognize the map of my emerging maturity.

Today I know:

🌱 Stability is not stagnation, but the quiet rhythm of inner safety.
🌳 Slow growth often allows the deepest roots.
🌬 When you can stay with the "boredom," you discover spaciousness between heartbeats – the very space where true inner freedom lives.
🌀 This is a painting of feminine power – the kind that doesn’t need a spotlight, but quietly creates life.

Interestingly – when I give tours at the Holistic Center Karnion, where this painting now lives, few people pay much attention to it.
But recently, an extraordinary woman asked for her own version of stability – one that accepts what is and grows deep roots strong enough for greater victories.

So if, as you're reading this, a part of you longs for that soft but steady support –
let this circle remind you:
You are on your path. It is enough. You are growing.

And if you feel you need support on that path –
I'm here to help you reconnect with your core energies
and the life blueprint of peace, stability, and success that was made especially for you. 💛

Maybe now is finally the right time... to bring it to life.

A dear colleague who occasionally helps with PR for my art called my round paintings portraits.
At first, it seemed strange—how could a concentric circle or a star resemble a portrait?
But over time, through a different lens, I realized she was right.

It became especially clear during a guided tour when Katarina stood next to the painting Expansion (Razmah).
I had the privilege of witnessing Katarina squared.

Katarina Dolenc, an enthusiastic Bars practitioner, traveled beautifully through my portals with her refined perception.
With Expansion, it felt like she was looking into an energetic mirror—her inner qualities multiplied instantly.
The room filled with vibrant joy and a passion for life. A magical moment.

Thank you, Katarina. 🤗

For the past 13 years, I’ve been proudly collaborating with the renowned Holistic Center Karnion – a space that opens the door to the dimensions and technologies of the 3rd millennium, offering support for the knowledge we need today.

Within their beautiful space, I guide immersive experiences of healing portals – my original works of art. These paintings hold a transformative power that helps bring more meaning, peace, and beauty into life.

The owner of the center, Bojana, especially enjoys living with this beauty every day.

I’m sharing her inspiring interview here – a testament to what is possible when both heart and business intuition are in the right place.

Že 13 let s ponosom sodelujem z vrhunskim Holističnim centrom Karnion, ki ponuja izkušnjo vstopa v dimenzije in tehnologije 3. tisočletja – za podporo znanju, ki ga potrebujemo danes. V njihovih prostorih vodim doživetja zdravilnih portalov – mojih umetniških del. To so slike, ki s svojo transformativno močjo pomagajo ustvarjati več smisla, miru in lepote v življenju.

V tej lepoti še posebej uživa tudi lastnica centra, Bojana.

Prilagam njen navdihujoč intervju, ki dokazuje, kaj vse je mogoče, ko sta srce in občutek za posel na pravem mestu.