You reap what you sow

“You reap what you sow”, the words of my interlocutor echo in the darkness. The heavy mahogany furniture around me supports these words. At dusk, it seems to me that I see in my soul golden fields of wheat on which Anne, George, and Mary Boleyn play. And Anne, 30 years later, at the execution site in front of the Tower. Forever engraved in history as the most famous royal wife on the British peninsula. At the same time, a woman who paid her price.

I think there are two types of courage in life. The first is impulsive courage, which makes risky decisions that, at some point, seem tempting from the perspective of blind belief in one’s own indestructibility. I appreciate other types of courage more. It is about the courage to make only decisions, the consequences of which we are equally able to bear as we are able to step into a story. That is true courage for me. In business. In life. Anywhere. The courage to choose only battles that you can actually fight. You need the courage to make decisions you will not escape from in a month.

The words of Ivan Simič still resonate in my mind: “Everyone pays their dues. Some immediately, some along the way, some at the very end.” I have always lived by the principle that if someone did something bad to me, I rarely acted on it. With a certain mocking irony, I preferred to wait for life to bring them down. And I guessed what the blow of fate that would return to them would be, the damage that was inflicted on me.

Life mostly repays people more harshly than I would have been able to myself. And when the curses you’ve been quietly waiting for do come, you wish you could undo them. But fate doesn’t listen to anyone. Fate goes its own way. They say that you can escape anything but not from your fate. The mayor of Ljubljana says that he does not believe in fate, that there is no fate, only the beauty of life and the art of properly cashing in on your capital, like Abramovich, whom he once sat next to at a match in the city of my childhood.

I, however, often remember the words of President Kučan. What will happen to all of us when the waiter comes with the bill? Will the devil from Triglav come for our soul, perhaps someone from heaven, or no one at all? When I am in doubt or facing inner turmoil, I often find my way to the black marble of the family tomb at Pobrežje. There, shrouded by a hood, I find my peace. It seems to me that my late grandmother understands “my sins,” understands my motives for them, and understands my future, present, and past. There, I get the power not only to make decisions but also to live with them. With the awareness that we all roll the dice at this stage of life.

For many, Anne Boleyn is remembered as an adulteress and a woman who walked over corpses—a woman who slept with her own brother and manipulated the emotions of an impulsive king. But for me, she is also a woman who seems to have accepted the consequences of her actions without a single complaint. Something that, most likely, very few people can say for themselves. The outcome of the game of life seems always to remain wrapped in a veil of mystery until the end. The last breath will decide the success or failure of our journey, I heard somewhere.

“I’ve seen a lot of people, but I’ve never seen anyone like you. Your charisma, your confidence, something inside you … will take you further than you can see for yourself. There is such a strong ambition burning in you. It will outgrow your very self … I’ve never, ever seen a woman like you. Too smart and too beautiful for your age,” someone told me. “Just make sure you don’t see me begging on the streets in a couple of years,” I laughed. “What do they say? It happens to the best of us. Even in the best of families, they say so many are destroyed. They say that every misstep can be fateful.”

“You will not misstep, Minka,” my interlocutor shakes his head. “I’ve never met such an intelligent person. A person who would know so well what they wanted.” It does not reassure me. I am aware that this is the truth of life: even the best may fall. The higher you climb, the deeper you fall. I do not live under the illusion that I am irreplaceable, unbreakable, or even very successful. But I know that I am ready to die for my mission and that I have a fire inside me, a fire that will drive me farther than I can currently even see … For this fire, I am grateful for life. It is my goal to direct it so that it doesn’t burn others, but instead ignites their souls as well.

I see this as important. As the mayor says, “If you aren’t useful to me, at the very least, do not be harmful.” This is also a basic principle of the Vedic scriptures. If you do not benefit, at least do no harm—Ahimsa paramo dharma. Do no harm. Not in thought, not in word, not in deed. However, action is more moral than inertness if someone attacks or inhibits you. One must fight for one’s ideals, for one’s place in the world, for one’s place under the sun. Fight envy—fight narrow-mindedness. Fight conservatism. But to fight in a cultured, sophisticated, and respectful way. No hits below the belt, if possible. As I often say – I do not lie; if I am not in a life-threatening situation…