This is the creative home of Natalija Brunovs.
Designer, photographer, film maker, artist, teacher, deep thinker, drawer, spiritual seeker and one crafty lady.

I blog therefore I am!

Follow Me

I'm Reading
  • Why People Photograph
    Why People Photograph
    by Robert Adams
  • Intimate Communion: Awakening Your Sexual Essence
    Intimate Communion: Awakening Your Sexual Essence
    by David Deida
  • The Liver and Gallbladder Miracle Cleanse: An All-Natural, At-Home Flush to Purify and Rejuvenate Your Body
    The Liver and Gallbladder Miracle Cleanse: An All-Natural, At-Home Flush to Purify and Rejuvenate Your Body
    by Andreas Moritz
  • Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism (Shambhala Library)
    Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism (Shambhala Library)
    by Chogyam Trungpa
  • Wild Food: Foraging for Food in the Wild
    Wild Food: Foraging for Food in the Wild
    by Jane Eastoe
  • The Existence of God is Self Evident
    The Existence of God is Self Evident
    by Master Choa Kok Sui

Entries in poetry (2)


Flower Ode 1: Gardenia

Dad's flower is the pure white gardenia.
When they bloom he always tells me
"I love their smell, I really love their smell"
And so I clip one from its branches 

I take long inhales
to gather up the fragrance
That's dad's passion that I'm breathing
I love the gardenia like him now

Today I saw a shrub on a tiny street corner
And like I do every time, I picked, just one
As I headed homeward I smelled and smelled
until I had a headache

I tried to pinpoint the smell
buttery, creamy, tropical, vanilla...
no… smell doesn't have words
It has associations


It's all my dad.

I will cry every time I smell one
when he passes on 

I can already feel the tears rising

[current mood] Sydney Harbour Views & Dancing In The Dark


A poem from the seaside tonight

The day is at it's end
I feel a sorrow rising
but the dusk is setting in
and I love it for surprising  

I look down on a beach
near empty but for three
children playing cricket
and my own two bare feet 

I head towards the sand
sitting under salty air
like a thick mist in the sky
not a wispy cloud spare 

The ocean beckons me 
singing deep in my ear
a sweet entrancing sound
and so I enter here 

I let the waves lap me up
I begin to create prose
I exclaim it to the ocean 
"my love my love" I go 

I really talk aloud
the ocean seems a being
I'm talking with about
how I'm truly feeling 

I let it be wild
I let it clear me
I take on her message
it's medicine you see

These colours hit me
beyond any doubt
the most beautiful colours
I have ever come about 

No words will convey 
and I think that it's due
to the millions of colours
making up this here hue

It's like metallic, it's cyan, it's turquoise. It's blue
but it's deep blue, sky blue, mauve, lilac blue

It's so so 
so so

I look up as it graduates 
deeper and deeper
and I see this dome above me
from my tiny peeper 

I'm immersed in this lover
and I travel across
to the light that makes dusk
the setting sun almost lost 

And just to the right
her partner, the moon
a slant smile rising
I feel possessed to salute

And so yoga I do
for the sun and the moon
for this life that I'm given
I say thank you 

thank you 

and I cry because I mean it
even with sand in my eye 
that drops from my hands 
clasping up to the sky

I see a little twinkle
a flash in the air
and I say thank you for that
what ever that was there

I step in a puddle
of curious form 
I see the sky reflected 
or the dune like floor 

I change focus each step
moving between two worlds 
one of sand one of sky
I walk or I fly

And I feel light and celebratory
I begin to dance and pirouette
and it's like I'm possessed
to prance and ballet step

I'm by myself on the beach,
no one's looking at me
I'm dancing in joy
and no one, no one can see

My body it moves in response
to visual ecstasy
but I can't help but think
it's temporary

It's fading, getting darker
the ocean nearing black
and I wonder why I'm crying
Do I fear a lack?

But there is beauty in the night
yes there is! I remember!
A galaxy of sparks and pinpricks
I can dream of their splendour

As I leave I reflect 
on how words really suck
and that nothing can explain 
and make you give a stuff

Words come in drabs
arching creeping bubbling
But no names for the colour
There I'm really fumbling

Then I realise more is going on
in this feeling that I'm having
Looking at a photo
I would never feel this smashing

Being here within it
It's the presence of the thing
in all its fleeting glory
as the dark is entering 

[current mood] Sesame Snaps & Queen