Why did I start World Community Connect?
Some of the most challenging years of my life I overcame by expressing myself creatively. As a teenager, I wrote dozens of poems.
Yet, it took me many years to give myself permission to share my creative works publicly. I never went to art academy, and I often felt I was not adequate enough to call myself an artist. 
Until I learned that creating goes so much further and beyond any formal education institution. Until I learned it is our birthright to create. Until I learned that art is about allowing creative processes happening everywhere. Until I learned that individual and collective creating, the power of self-expression, and sharing stories have enormous effect on cultivating empathy and compassion, and building healthier world and sense of equality, protection and respect for everyone's dignity and worth.
My teenage years were filled with political conflict, nationalism, complexities of post war society impacted by individual and collective traumas.

Those experiences taught me about the importance of tolerance, respect, diversity, and openness, and made me gravitate towards diverse communities, people of all backgrounds, and to alchemize personal experiences into tools to serve others.

I wanted to remain dedicated to cultivating the idea of the world where children, women, and men have access to create, have access to healing and education, where plurality is a norm, where we are all treated equally and respectfully regardless of our gender, race, sexual orientation, ethnicity, religion, or age.
There are number of people who inspired me to create, my son Tagor, who will remain one of the greatest teachers in my life, my deceased mother who guided me with her courage and pure heart, my friends...Azadeh Kangarani who inspires me with her own powerful autobiographical works and who keeps reminding me of my own strengths; Vanessa Gendron who has been supporting me through many phases; Sonia Mackwani talented writer, educator, healer, my students, and many other individuals who taught me precious lessons, and inspired me to do more.
SILENCE TREATMENT
It is defined as a “refusal to communicate verbally with another person”. It is one of the ways we can cause enormous pain to another human being without visible bruising….

Getting a silence treatment is certainly one of the most emotionally challenging experiences I went through...I went through waves of emotions of guilt, sadness, anger, rage, and than I would repeat the same internal emotional cycle all over again, and again, and again, and again…

Till I recently talked to a very inspiring woman who showed me in very profound way that sometimes certain behavior of others can deeply reflect the ways we behave towards ourselves.

I shared with her my experiences in getting the silence treatment. And she asked me a straight forward question: Where do YOU keep silencing yourself?

I started to unpacking many fragments of life when I was silencing the self...whenever I felt uncomfortable to ask for a raise at work, whenever I was not expressing my needs, whenever I was waiting for years to address personal injustice, whenever I was shying away from addressing poisonous behavior, whenever I was choosing flight response, whenever I was terrified of consequences, whenever I was judging myself during creative process, whenever I was depriving myself from sharing my works, whenever I was censoring myself from sharing stories of abuse as I was too ashamed to share them...

I learned from this inspiring woman, that healing journey is not so much about addressing those who give silence treatment, but addressing ways we treat ourselves, ways we silence ourselves, ways we devalue ourselves, ways we punish ourselves…and by addressing these and by giving ourselves courageous promise that we will never ever allow to silence ourselves again, we open the path to some of the deepest and core healing...
Our role in education...

Today I met new generation of my students. My students are wonderful individuals who come from all over the world. They bring fresh energy, profound insights about life, waves of inspiration and creative ideas, stories they want to transform, stories they want to explore, stories they want to share...

Many of my students come to live alone for the first time in a new country, far away from their families. Many of them travel overseas in order to bravely step into new environments, cultures, mentalities while living completely on their own. Many of them are only 18 at that time. My students are some of my most inspiring teachers. I keep continuously learning from my students.

I have also been contemplating my role as a teacher for many years now. What is my purpose in life of my students? How can I serve them? How can I facilitate them while navigating complex life phases, pains of growing up while trying to find their place in this world, while gaining clarity what their legacy is or what are the messages, and values they want to stand for…? I keep asking these questions as a human, mother, teacher...

The more I open these inner conversations with myself, the more I reflect on my own journey when I was age of my students, and the more I discover the importance of understanding complexity of their inner worlds, nuances of their beings, cultivating their authenticity while encouraging ways of creating that go beyond logical and rational mind…standing by them (in all their totality) when they feel vulnerable, encouraging them to be compassionate and gentle towards themselves.

I will keep learning from my students, and hopefully I will keep evolving as a human and teacher who encourages them creatively, mentally, emotionally, spiritually in all their expansions and growth.

Dear friend reminded me of Mark Twain’s saying: “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.” I will keep reminding my students and myself that our learning, discovering ourselves and understanding nuances of our being go far beyond classrooms, assignments briefs, and schools projects...

Home, Belonging, and Rootlessness
It is said that sense of home develops when one's connection to a place carries particular emotional qualities. 
I feel journey to home, finding belonging, and defining roots is deeply individual process. 
Throughout the years my family gradually dissolved either through deaths, migration, or large geographical distances. This was among the first photos of my family in Bosnia taken right after the war. 
Loosing my family was one of the hardest and the most painful experiences I've been through so far. I went through waves of immense sadness, grieving, deep anger, guilt, even shame, and desperate need to have family. I would come across articles about importance of family and being exposed by the explosion of family photos from social media that serve that image of filtered life.
On that complex emotional journey I learned that the biggest hardships can be always transformed into our strength and finding alternative ways of living, defining our own family, giving ourselves permission to create new places, and new templates in our lives. 
These experiences served me as one of the biggest inspiration to create art works, use stories as medicine, and tell them through creative means. 
I learned how to build home inside of me. I made my peace that is if fine to feel rootless and not having sense of belonging to any particular place, it gave me wide eyes to see the whole world as my country.
Fear and our authentic self
I struggled with sharing my own stories for a long time. If I shared them I would have shared them in filtered way. Not too “negative”, or too “dramatic” because others might feel repelled, or not too “positive” or too “bright” because there is so much suffering in the world. I used to filter those stories and mask them with persona suitable for not to be “too much” of anything.
Than I realized that sharing fragments, peaces of our lives, struggles, challenges, fears, achievements...create powerful pool that we can reach out to when we need to feel sense of community, or support, or to find those who walk or used to walk similar path as we do.

I realized one of the ways we make impact and contribute to healing processes is by telling our stories. And most of all, I realized that every story matters.
I found medicine in stories…in sharing my own stories and listening to stories of others. I found medicine in taking ownership of my own narratives regardless of how painful, or embarrassing, or strange, or weird they might sound or feel. I found medicine in allowing myself to dive into my own prejudices against my own narratives and ways I tried to systematically suppress them. I found medicine in sharing my existential fears, complex journeys of single motherhood, struggles to authentically express my needs, ways I learned to open heart and love again, strengths I found in some of the most challenging and darkest moments...I found medicine and enormous power in sharing stories and listening to stories of others.

Whether we share story on a piece of paper, or whispering it to another human’s ear, or expressing it through shapes and colors, or dancing with it...we create sacred space that others can enter, where others can find themselves individually and collectively, and used those stories as medicine.

Stories we carry underneath
Moth is hiding
In my cupboard
All the muddiness
Calling to be looked at
I’ve heard so many stories from so many wonderful women. I’ve cherished their voices and honor the experiences that they shared with me. In sacred moments, when we sit in a circle or next to each other, we often talk about what is underneath; The precious moments that we carry in our hearts, the fragments of life that we carefully protect from the outside disturbances and noise.  
We also speak about the moments in our lives that have taught us about courage that we’ve somehow embraced despite everything. We’ve spoken about the parts of self that we never revealed to anyone.
I’ve learned a lot from these conversations. I’ve learned a lot about myself, about my own mask and what was hiding underneath.
I’ve been working with layers of paint filled with a lot of uncomfortable personal fragments. It’s helped me to remove layers and layers of these unwanted feelings with the stages of grieving. The feelings of rootlessness, the sense of not-belonging, the fragments of personal narratives that wanted to be heard and seen.
I hid behind these layers until I allowed everything that was beneath the mask to teach me. It taught me about the fragments of selves that I kept hidden. The forgotten sheets of many stories that we lived and the stories that we are currently living. It’s taught me to remove old skin from the shade and illuminate it with a strong inner stare. I’ve stared at the wounds and the deepest sense of being. I’ve stared at my discomfort at leaping.
The revealing of all these layers helped me to start fully embracing what was hidden underneath.

Have you ever been paralyzed by the loss of a loved one?
In November last year, a very close friend of mine passed away. It was a sudden and unexpected departure that left me paralyzed and shocked. My friend was the kind of friend that I knew I could always share some of my deepest thoughts and feelings. I knew they would remain there stored in her heart infinitely.
It was a friendship where we both felt seen and heard in each other’s presence. It was a friendship where I was always encouraged to continuously keep experimenting and creating my art.
Several months ago, I experienced some of the most intense anxiety attacks that I had in years. I was in shock and didn’t know why all of these intense and deeply uncomfortable feelings were emerging...
And it came to me then…It was fear!
Fear that emerged from a fragmented past and shattered memories. The fear of losing my friends, fear of losing my family and the fear of losing people that I love due to death or war or large physical distances.
I started realizing that my soul was calling me to release this pain, to release the fear, to untangle my trauma and allow myself to grieve the loss of loved ones in order to heal. These feelings I was too uncomfortable to face all these years in their total depth, and discomfort were finally surfacing
I then recalled a conversation that I had with a dear friend of mine, in a local bar in Mumbai, who told me (which I will rephrase here) about the importance of sharing personal stories and communicating my own narratives. My friend was reminding me that this was exactly what I teach to my wonderful students on the power of sharing personal narratives and how to translate those narratives while using creative language.
I realized how important what my friend was saying to me. I couldn’t agree more.
This marked the beginning of a creative process that has been evolving ever since with sharing personal narratives and fragments of life that I’ve been going through and that many other people experience too.
I started the organization World Community Connect (my soul sister Sonia has been my big inspiration to start this journey) to serve communities around the world with the idea of sharing stories, stories that we lived or stories that we are currently living. The stories that matter to us, but never having the chance to share them.
The whole period of experiencing loss, anxiety, loneliness, and grieving opened the gate for healing, creating, and putting the pieces and fragments of these experiences into paintings and other visual narratives.
I will keep sharing this piece by piece while revealing the ways this creative work has been profoundly changing my entire life.
Mother and child…
I listened to the stories of other mothers...stories about motherhood and love and loneliness and exhausture and beauty and learning and feeling and escaping and believing and loosing and thriving...stories of mothers migrants...stories of mothers refuges...stories of single mothers...stories of mothers immigrants…
I found myself in their whispers, struggles and hopes…
My beloved mother passed away 12 years ago. My mother passed in the month of November.
She never met my son who was born a year after she died…I never stopped missing her…
My mother used to tell me: “You will learn about motherhood, only when you have your own child”...at that time I was not paying much attention to those words...at that time I didn’t even know if I would ever even wanted to become a mom…
And than as soon as my mother left this physical world, I became mom...I got one the biggest teachers in my life...my son...and I’ve been learning with my son all of the stories I learned from other mothers and from my own mother and from mothers of mothers…stories of laughter, stories of struggles, stories of pain, stories of tiredness, stories of courage, stories of love...
This work and layers of paints I dedicate to all mothers and children...to those I already know, to those I never met, to those I might meet in the future, to those who will certainly cross my path, to those who supported me and my child when I needed support, to those I learned from, to those I will never forget...
Back to Top