
About Me

Hi, my name is Agnes Lorincz.
Call me Anyez.
I know that suffering is not our destiny.
I know darkness is not an endpoint.
Every human being contains a fire that can melt even the oldest fear and shame when touched with awareness.
My purpose is simple:
To help people walk into their darkness with consciousness and come out on the other side, radiating light.
This is the heart of RiCreature.
This is the work I was born to do.
And if you feel called, I’ll walk beside you, one conscious choice at a time.


For the last twelve years, I’ve been helping people who feel lost, anxious, or disconnected find the way back to themselves: to inner peace, authentic self-esteem, and the serene certainty of knowing who they are.
My work is a blend of many modalities, but my true strength lies not in the techniques I use.
It is the presence I offer.
The depth people can dive into with me.
The safety they feel when they sit with me.
The conscious choice to meet pain without fear and to walk through the dark with a steady flame.
Clients often tell me that with me, they reach realms in themselves they didn’t know were there.
That they feel seen, safe, and held in a way they have never experienced before.
And I know why:
I’ve walked those depths myself.
And I’ve chosen, again and again, to become the light I once needed.

My Two Lenses
I’ve spent more than twenty years exploring what it means to be human.
Not just in books, but in the body, emotions, and relationships. In the quiet spaces where truth hides.
My journey has always had two lenses:
The macro lens of anthropology, graphology, transpersonal psychology, and Family Constellations taught me to see the invisible threads of cultural, ancestral, and systemic forces that shape our lives even if we don’t recognize them.
Through the micro lens of Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, and EFT, I studied, healed, and recreated my own inner world: my every emotion, every belief, every wound, every choice.


Why do I do this work?
In my early twenties, I didn’t want to be here anymore. Life was unbearable, senseless. A burden. Like carrying a bag of rocks while climbing a mountain.
I worked as a tourist guide in some of Europe's most picturesque places, surrounded by beauty. Venice. Florence. Stockholm. Switzerland.
But still, all that gorgeousness was grey. Muted, like I was. Trapped behind dirty glass.
I was drowning. I wished I'd disappear. My chest constricted like a fist closing in on itself.
The only thing alive in me was the plea in my head:
“Please, don’t make me stay. Please, just let me go home.”



I made a vow
Those prayers to disappear went unanswered. Or better, that silence revealed itself as the answer.
It was winter in the same year. The radiator under the window scorched my knee as I leaned out to breathe in the air so cold it burned. The street below was frozen and still. I stared down from the fourth floor, measuring the distance.
Opting out wasn’t an option. The decision had been made long before this lifetime, by something larger than the woman named Agnes Lorincz. Jumping wouldn’t bring peace; it would only mean coming back to start all over again, just with heavier lessons.
I was here, so there had to be a reason.
Realizing that night that I had to stay, I made a vow:
I’ll make the most of it.
I said to myself, I'd find out what this is about. What it means to be human, what it means to be me.

Shall The Quest Begin
For years, I searched for what it truly meant to be human.
What drives us? Why do we live the way we live? Could we live differently? More consciously, more whole? How?
I chased these questions through ancient wisdom and modern science, and also into the deepest corners of my own soul.
After about ten years of study, practice, and self-inquiry, something shifted. I began to appreciate the pain I’d endured, not as punishment, but as fertile ground for who I could become.
One day, during a trancelike breathwork journey, I met the child I once was. She appeared as a little blond girl with sad, blue eyes.
When I asked what she would be growing up, she showed me an entity woven of white, gold, and fuchsia light.
And she said:
“I’ll be giant and bright,
with wings like angels.
I’ll fly through the dark,
and wherever there is fear and pain,
I’ll be dripping light.”
Suddenly, I was flying, seeing the Earth below, a tiny marble of blue and green. I felt golden wings unfurl from my back as drops of light rained from their tips. Tears of love and gratitude were streaming down my face.



Since then,
I've carried that vision with me.
I've asked myself at every step, every word, every choice: Does this bring me closer to becoming that Being of Light?
The next morning, as I took the milk out of the refrigerator to make my morning latte, I asked myself, "How the heck do I do that?"
I heard a quiet voice, I'd come to trust since then, answer instantly:
"Become the master of yourself, and then transmit what you have learned."
That is why I'm so passionate about guiding people through their darkest spaces, helping them release self-doubt, reach emotional freedom, live with integrity, confidence, and authentic self-love.
In one word, help them remember the light they already are.

I started writing poetry at the age of eight. I kept pouring out poems until, twenty-five years later, thanks to daily meditation and other spiritual practices, my constant experience of existence was no longer pain.
It's no wonder that my novel, Recycled Lives, is a story about radical self-responsibility and choosing life over despair.
When it was honored with a literary award, it was one of the proudest moments of my path.



