NZ Kaminsky's Blog

Many of us carry the subconscious belief that self love is selfish. We know, intellectually, that it’s nonsense, right? But breaking the cycle of self abandonment is incredibly hard. It surfaces every time we try to escape uncomfortable emotions, troublesome realities, or simple exhaustion. What if we committed to practicing self love, portion by portion, each day? For example, by sitting in a comfy armchair, curled up in soft blankets, inhaling the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee, or fragrant tea, in a nourishing self hug for five minutes, twice a day. Sometimes, it helps to lower our expectations or loosen our commitments and instead focus on rebuilding our relationships with ourselves gradually, step by step, with absolute kindness. I’ve found somatic exercises to be incredibly helpful for regulating the nervous system and sending signals of safety, presence, and love to the brain.
Hugs 💛
Natalie

Did you know that certain bamboo species show no visible growth for 3–5 years? Above ground, it seems like nothing is happening. But underground, they’re building an intricate root system, strong enough to support astonishing growth later.
When the roots are ready, bamboo can grow up to a metre a day. What looks like sudden success is really the result of years of hidden preparation.

So if you feel stuck, trust the work you can’t yet see. Your roots are growing stronger and deeper every day.

Have you ever felt stuck in your healing journey? Just remember: it often gets darker before it gets lighter. That’s how nature works: darkness before the dawn, roots before the bloom. Surrender, but keep digging your way out.

Hugs,
Natalie

I’m a slow reader. I don’t devour books. I savour them. I smile, I laugh, I cry. I pause to contemplate. I get angry at characters’ choices, argue with them when they lose their marbles, offer unsolicited advice, and cheer when they finally get their act together. I sip coffee with nuts and dates to calm my nerves, pondering all the ways I’ve been less than perfect myself, feeling a warm companionship with them. I learn from their mistakes, dive into my own psyche, process buried emotions, and relish the tingling sensations of finishing a good book, hungry for more.

Reading, to me, is an extraordinary way to expand our life experience in a safe space, living through others’ turmoil, turbulence, and despair, and coming out wiser, more tolerant, and hopefully kinder. It enriches our toolbox for facing life’s challenges, opens perspectives we might never have reached otherwise, and sharpens our senses.

If you’re a slow reader too, don’t compare yourself to those who speed through hundreds of books a year as if it’s a race to conquer. Maybe, like me, you see reading as a sacred ceremony, your personal me time. You light the candles, pull a soft, extra cozy blanket around you, crunch on carrots to regulate your nervous system, and slip into dozens of different lives in the most authentic, powerful way, curled up in your comfy chair, absentmindedly stroking your fluffy companion at your side.

Hugs,
Natalie

Must read 🏆
Beautiful Evocative Magical Realism Novel About Lucid Dreaming, Creativity, Imagination, and Existentialism

N.Z. Kaminsky’s novel A Sense of Home: The Land of the Great Lakes lives up to its name. Once you open this beautiful lyrical book and fall into this bildungsroman of a young girl experiencing an ethereal, evocative world of lucid dreams, creativity, and imagination you will feel like you are coming home.

Tyra Blair lived in the city of Moss in the parallel world of Azure. It is much like our Earth with similar history, pop culture, and problems. One of those problems is war. When soldiers and their trained beasts attack Moss, Tyra and her family are forced to go into hiding in the town of Marigold, which is beautiful, but the people there are cold and unpleasant. In exile, Tyra's parents implode as her mother Scarlett becomes depressed and her father Logan retreats into alcohol. Tyra is forced to become self-reliant while dealing with trauma, nightmares, and aching loneliness. She can only find comfort in books and nature.

One day, she meets Koda, a friendly squirrel. He guides her to a mirror where she can visit her favorite books and stories. This experience opens up a brighter, lucid dream world. Her lucid dreams appear throughout her life as she grows and deals with many personal issues of loss, fighting parents, unemployment, unsatisfying romances, separation, war, tyranny, and death. These lucid dreams help her survive and dream of the day when she will leave it to join The Land of The Great Lakes. Not Minnesota, it is a fabled land of thought, imagination, and beauty that can only be reached by invitation.

This book is one that grabs readers' attention and holds on, causing them to remember the little details long after they are done, particularly Tyra's lucid dreams. They are definitely the highlights of this book.

Tyra and Koda’s trips into books delight any bookworm. The dui Lady Death trying to con her godson doctor into letting her kill his patient. A man confronts and is ultimately consumed by his Shadow Self..Grandfather Frost warms an abandoned maiden and many more. Through these experiences, Tyra is immersed into worlds of imagination, courage, adventure, and escape. The characters aren't content to wallow in loss and self-pity like her parents. Instead, they persevere and fight with strength, cleverness, and kindness. In doing so, they challenge the status quo and reshape the world. Through them, Tyra is inspired to find ways to reshape hers.

The book journeys aren't the only situations that Tyra's lucid dreams conjure up. She is able to befriend fantastic creatures like a pair of adorable furry monsters who would not be out of place in a Muppet special. She communicates with the deceased who send her wisdom that they were unable to when they were alive. They offer guidance on her path through signs, riddles, and visions. Her dreams not only provide an escape from a troublesome existence but gives her the means to survive it and aspire towards a greater path.

The best book to compare A Sense of Home to is another one that I recently read, The Art of Agony by Amy Felix. They are both coming-of-age stories about young women exploring the inner depths of their minds to survive during dismal, dark times, but the executions are polar opposites.

The Art of Agony is about Eva, the protagonist, becoming aware that the world is a dark, meaningless place, even her own mind can't be trusted, and no one cares about how she feels. In A Sense of Home, Tyra's mind is opened to more enlightened possibilities. She sees a world beyond the one in which she lives that gives her a sense of purpose and a more meaningful existence.

While The Art of Agony is a more cerebral, introspective perspective, A Sense of Home is a fuller, more evocative, ethereal, and more intelligent perspective. It is one thing to come to the realization that life is hard and everything is stacked against you, but it is another to admit that but to find some meaning, purpose, and value in it anyway. That's why in some ways A Sense of Home is more mature than The Art of Agony, which, while excellent in exploring angst and the source of it, can also be lost in, overwhelmed by, and consumed by that same angst. Why bother doing anything at all if nothing matters? Why bother writing about it?

A Sense of Home tells us that what we dream about, long for, hope for, create, inspire, love, and bring to life is enough of a reason. If we are only a spark in this vastness in the universe, then we might as well find something that isn't harmful and gives us contentment and some kind of pleasure about being alive.

"Sense of Home by NZ Kaminsky is an emotionally interwoven tale of literary fiction and mystical realism that beautifully explores themes of resilience, loss, family, and inner strength. The author does a great job of vividly expressing the experiences of Tyra, the young protagonist. I felt as if I was experiencing every mystical event through her eyes. The key theme is about losing one's homeland, both internally and literally, and having to rediscover one's sense of belonging all over again. Through dreams that merge reality and the supernatural world, this story paints a clear picture of the profound impact of grief and estrangement on a person's life. It is a reminder to readers that inner hurt can sometimes reshape a person's identity and even transform that individual from within. This compelling book is ideally suited for readers who enjoy reflective-style storytelling with a trace of the surreal. I fell in love with it, and you will, too.

In NZ Kaminsky's Sense of Home, young Tyra’s journey starts in calamity when dangerous beasts destroy her tranquil life in Azure. Ripped away from her once vibrant homeland, Tyra and her family become nomads, forced to survive in harsh, foreign lands and towns like Marigold and Moonvine. As they travel to these bleak lands, Tyra grapples with loss and estrangement. Slowly, the world begins to feel less like her home. Forbidden books and supernatural beings offer her a path forward, and in time, she discovers a magical doorway to the unknown. As Tyra matures throughout the story, her ability to travel to enchanted worlds increases, mirroring her inner turmoil and hopes to regain her sense of identity and meaning. Through dreamscapes and inner reflections, she gradually uncovers her true power, which has been dormant inside her all along. But is this power strong enough to fully heal her and guide her to where she ultimately belongs?"

Reviewed by Richard Prause for Readers’ Favorite

Many of us have been taught to escape or fight uncomfortable emotions, labeled as “negative,” something to be eradicated in our pursuit of becoming better humans. We’ve spent our lives locked in an excruciating, endless battle against ourselves, chasing what we want while neglecting to give ourselves what we truly need.
But our shadows aren’t enemies to conquer. They’re allies holding untapped potential: wounded parts of our psyche crying out for acknowledgment, validation, and compassion. They need us to process the pain we’ve long ignored, resisted, and buried in the dungeons of our subconscious.
When we meet these shadows with care, they transform. They release the power they’ve been holding back our creativity, strength, resilience. Through the ugly truths we uncover about ourselves, they show us the path to freedom.
Imagine your shadow as your closest friend or a child longing for love, an ally guiding you toward wholeness, a source of strength leading you to awakening.

Embrace it with kindness.

Hugs,
Natalie

P.S.: In my novel Sense of Home, I explore the process of shadow integration through storytelling, folklore, and dreams that blur the line between fiction and reality, guiding Tyra on her path to healing. If this resonates with you, I’d be honoured to call you my reader.

I just watched the film Frida, Salma Hayek’s outstanding creation, and I’m in complete awe.
I’ve been thinking about Frida Kahlo’s life and legacy, and what struck me most are her words:
“I hope the exit is joyful, and I hope never to return. I am suffering. But I want you to know I have loved life, and I want to thank you for it. Sometimes I think I am lost in a desert, but then I remember the music, the colors, the voices that fill my soul. I am broken, but still I sing. I paint my wounds so they can speak when I cannot. I want to be whole, but maybe I am meant to be a thousand pieces, scattered, torn, bleeding, and beautiful. If I leave now, it is because I have loved too much, and been hurt too much, and I am tired. But my love will stay. It will dance in the colors, the shapes, the light-forever.”
She gave her shadow color, shape, and voice, stained in dust, tears, and blood, but was she able to go beyond that and find peace before the end?
We’ll never know.
I find her art to be a transcendental tool for contemplating the shadow, a mirror in which she expressed human suffering as a universal truth, ingrained in our shared reality.

As Marie Louise von Franz once said:
“It is not enough just to know your shadow and say, ‘Yes, that’s my shadow.’ That is only the beginning. Most people stop there, but the shadow is a living part of the personality and must be lived in real life.”
Frida did not stop at naming her shadow. She lived it. And I hope some of us will follow her path, not only facing our own shadows, but going beyond that threshold, carrying her fire as a torch through the labyrinth of our own darkness, our personal underworlds.

My reflection:
Not all who suffer are geniuses.
But perhaps only tremendous suffering can ignite genius.
At least Frida had that.

How do we know when we’ve gone beyond awareness into actual transformation? What are the signs that the shadow is in the process of integration, rather than just seen?
When does self-expression become self-fixation? How can we tell the difference?
If the shadow is meant to be “lived in real life” (von Franz), how do we distinguish between cathartic art and real integration?
Given the depth of her artistic and written insights, how close do you think she came to true integration?

When I was little, I was constantly taught to distract myself from feeling angry, upset, or anxious.
‘Here’s your favorite toy, Nat. Maybe a cookie? Think about something positive. Why are you crying? Nothing tragic has happened. Others have it worse. Be strong! Fight your weakness.’

Is it really a weakness? I wondered. Or do tears have their own rhythm, their own purpose?

It took a debilitating illness and severe depression to awaken me to my authentic self, with all its darkness and beauty. Now, I am learning not to dismiss or abandon my needs, not to silence my naturally arising emotions, but to meet them with compassion and loving kindness. For too long, I had bullied the wounded parts of myself, not because others did once I became an adult, but because I had internalized a destructive pattern. A silent tormentor in my mind whispered: If you feel this, you are not strong enough, not good enough, not worthy of love.

I know it wasn’t intentional. Those around me were protecting themselves from their own pain as they watched mine. But it’s time to break the cycle. To stop this madness. To accept what is—to let it rise and fall naturally, as all things should.

“Listen to your emotions, darling.
They're just signals that something is wrong for you, not with you.” — Sense of Home by Kaminsky

Do you ever catch yourself dismissing your own feelings before anyone else can?

I feel it’s important to clarify that Sense of Home is a character-driven, literary-style story, despite all the magical elements. It doesn’t rely on action or a fast-paced narrative, but leans into a more introspective, reflective rhythm, diving deep into the emotional world of the protagonist.

Rather than telling or explaining, the story shows Tyra’s inner life through atmosphere, dreams, symbolism, and sensory detail, inviting readers to feel her sorrow and participate in her journey toward healing. Her emotions, thoughts, and internal battles are the very heart of this story. The focus is on the emotional texture of her life and the inner transformation that is triggered when someone dares to face their inner darkness. This isn’t a mainstream narrative.

There is also a great deal of conflict throughout the book, both internal and external. Tyra struggles with grief, identity, loneliness, emotional isolation, her wounded shadow, and the search for a lost sense of home. These inner tensions are mirrored by outer ones: family discord, parental divorce, the trauma of war, religious division, immigration, multiple losses, an intricate love story, and mental health struggles.

This is a coming-of-age story that begins in innocence and gradually evolves into emotional and existential complexity, mirroring Tyra’s personal growth. The tone shifts as she matures, starting soft and lyrical, then becoming more grounded and raw as she steps into adulthood.

This story was written for adult readers drawn to intimate, introspective explorations of grief, trauma, healing, inner transformation, the intricacies of family and romantic relationships, along with the complexity of human nature.

I hope this story will find its audience someday. Because while a writer can create an entire world, it’s the readers who bring it to life. An unread book is only ink on paper until someone lets it in. Without the reader, the story remains like a sleeping beauty, waiting to be awakened.

Natalie

“The tongue can conceal the truth, but the eyes never!”
— Voland, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

Nonverbal communication can hurt, sometimes even more than words.
A cold glance, prolonged silence, a dismissive gesture, turning away, avoiding eye contact, or a lack of warmth in body language can all convey rejection, disappointment, or disapproval. These subtle signals often bypass rational defenses and go straight to the emotional core, especially for those who are sensitive or attuned to others’ moods.
Because it's not explicit, nonverbal hurt can also be harder to name, confront, or heal from. It leaves space for self-doubt: "Did I imagine that?" "Am I overreacting?" Yet the body registers and senses it very unmistakably. Even before the mind can make sense of it.
It leaves invisible scars.
Have you ever felt that nonverbal communication can wound us, sometimes almost irreparably?

(The Master and Margarita is one of my favorite books of all time. I’ve reread it during different periods of my life, and each time it feels as though the wisdom embedded in this masterpiece has no bottom.
As ridiculous as it sounds, I have a superstitious, almost subconscious fear that something bad will happen every time I read it. Strangely, I can’t even remember if anything ever did, whether even once something occurred as a coincidence. But fears like that seem to have a wild nature of their own.

Natalie