On Choosing Presence (and Discovering Vaska Emanuilova)
At the end of each day, I pause and reflect on my impressions and feelings. Some days are eventful, even triggering. Others flow seamlessly, with little happening on the surface—but when I look closely, I find subtle lessons waiting to be seen.
Yesterday was one of those days in between. My friend’s arrival brought its own lessons. I was reminded that when we act hastily or try to cut corners—whether to save money or time—we often end up paying more, financially or emotionally. Releasing our energy to unworthy causes always proves painful. And when we postpone joy, saving it for some imagined future moment, we rob ourselves of the present and, in a way, rob ourselves of that future too.
As my friend dealt with the consequences of her choices at the airport, I was faced with a smaller but meaningful decision: Should I wait endlessly for her, growing hungrier and more irritated by the minute, or honor my own needs with compassion? My original plan was to welcome her and take her to a beautiful dinner for her first night in Sofia. But the longer I sat waiting, the more I realized I was putting myself into “waiting mode.”
So I chose differently. My daughter and I went for a late lunch, trusting that everything would work out. And the moment I made that choice, things shifted. The food was delicious, the ambiance inviting, and—just next door—we discovered a gallery I had never visited before.
The gallery was dedicated to the works of Vaska Emanuilova, one of the first prominent female sculptors in Bulgaria. Her art includes portraits, female nudes, figures of workers and ordinary people, as well as both everyday and historical compositions. The experience was unexpectedly moving.
What struck me most was not just the sculptures themselves, but the spiritual qualities I sensed in her journey:
Presence in the process
Sculpting demands quiet attention—chiseling, shaping, being accountable to the material. Her work radiates a soul practiced in presence.
Protecting the inner life
Some of her pieces were never shown publicly, suggesting that truth doesn’t always need visibility, but it does need fidelity.
Reverence for the human form
Her figures carry weight, curve, and vulnerability. They are not abstractions but embodiments of humility and compassion.
Art as service
She left her works to the city, choosing legacy as generosity, allowing her art to live on as a gift for others.
Courage in truth
Even within the constraints of shifting political regimes and artistic expectations, she found ways to remain true to her vision.
Her life reminded me that:
We don’t need perfect clarity or external validation to be on the right path.
Even when circumstances feel constraining, we can still hold beauty and authenticity within us.
A legacy of sincerity and generosity resonates far beyond ourselves.
Visibility isn’t everything—what matters is presence, truth, and kindness in expression.
And I realized: had I ignored my inner voice and chosen to wait, I would have missed her altogether. By honoring myself in that moment, I was led to an encounter that left me deeply nourished and inspired.
