I didn't know that was there...

Last week, I had an appointment to meet up with a friend after work. Once bitten, twice shy, I realised getting on a bus, any bus!, would mean time stuck in rush hour traffic jam. I checked my map, and found out I could be at our meeting place within 40 minutes if I were to go on foot - roughly as long as it would take me by bus, on a good day. I actually like walking, so I set off.

The route, it turns out, is pretty much a straight line: leave work, turn right, over the bridge, a slight zig-zag, oh, look! The city Court building! I didn't know that was there. Even more, I didn't know there is a little area to sit around a pool. In the pool, which at that time had no-one around, there are water lilies (only pads, as it's winter). And, oh! wow! in between the pads, flashes of bright red, white and black - there are koi fish there! Looking even closer, there were other varieties of fish, tiny and dark, darting around.

I had to continue, lest I be late! So, off I went, again on (pretty much) a straight line, along a quiet street with beautiful trees. Then, there was a gap in the trees and a fence with something like posters on it. Since there were words written, what could I do but stop to read them? Ah! This, it turned out, is an Embassy. I didn't know that was there. The posters, half in Czech, half in English, explained how each of the images shown are representative of particular architectural styles found in the Czech Republic. How enticing, which one did I prefer? I could really get lost, travelling again. But no, maybe some other day.  I was still a few minutes away.

Nearly at my destination, my friend was still on a bus. I decided to continue on my straight line as it would lead me to the beach. Alas! It started to rain, so I changed my mind. Instead of continuing ahead, I turned left, looking for a cafe that looked inviting and quiet enough. I didn't find one, rather I came across a square that had been under remodelling for about 2 years. I hadn't clicked onto the fact that that was there! I took a video for a friend who loves architecture, with whom I had seen the square as it used to be mere days before the works started, before taking refuge in a shopping centre.

Finally, I went back to our meeting place. It was a mere 10 minute walk away, despite all that meandering. I sat down at the restaurant, pondering about habit, about what we define as comfort, as opposed to 'trying something else', with its wonders, its surprises. I acknowledged I was happier than I would have been had I simply got on a bus, followed familiar streets, or simply sat in a coffee shop to kills time.

Thanks to that 'adventure in spite of the rain', I now had an idea where to go to see koi; the beautiful buildings in a far away country I rarely consider; how easily I could get to the sea after work, if I so wished; how nice the new square looks, even though the fountain still has to be re-clad. I had simply rediscovered some of my city, and how marvellous its nooks and crannies can be.

When was the last time you went exploring in your city? When did you choose to simply try the next high street, instead of the regular mall? When did you get surprised by a café where they have no idea what venti, pumpkin flavouring, or Styrofoam mean?

We live in glorious environments, if only we dare try them out. I know I am glad to now know that was there. I am looking forward to learn of other spots, of unexpected corners.

Whether you live in a city, a village, or the middle of a forest, I wish you adventures and the joy of new places to call your own.

Do you love your job?

Do you love your job?

I love my job. I do, why do so many people look at me questioningly? Some think I am just trying to keep up a positive vibe; others, that I am faking it; yet some believe that I am pushing their buttons. But nope, honest to goodness, I love my job.

My job is not the kind I thought I would ever have. Actually, I knew nothing about this industry before getting the position. Added to that, I left my previous post, as a manager in the field I had experience, to a degree I'd even say mastery, without any need to do so. Just because I felt I needed to grow, to try new things. So I did, and I don't regret it.

My job is not glamorous, it won't make me famous, and beyond the salary (which is good, but nothing outlandish) it is no crazy scheme to make me rich. I also cannot really talk about the details with other people, not because of matters of National Security or similar, but because of simple client confidentiality. By the way, I work in a lab that certifies diamonds, see? Nothing major. I work in the dark, with microscopes and loupes, computers and music in my ears.

To be perfectly candid, I'm not even completely sure why I enjoy this so much. I certainly love the quiet environment, the individual beauty of each stone, the little quizzing moments from time to time, the fact that everything is black on white. Of course, I miss some elements of my life in the education sector: seeing people gain skills so they can move further in their paths; greater socialising; the different subjects discussed. In fact, I also loved teaching and teacher training, it just came to an end for me.

Most people seem to work in jobs they don't really like, just because they need a salary. Of course, we all do, and I have done so too - I really didn't like having to work in a coffee shop, or at a food stall at a Xmas Market. They are stepping stone roles, to be used temporarily while searching for what motivates us. They also are supposed to be there, so we can identify what we like and what we don't like for ourselves: in my case, I loathe anything to do with sales, marketing, and so forth. I feel dirty trying to convince people to buy something, probably because I hate feeling coaxed or tricked into anything in life. On the other hand, I love learning, thus I loved teaching and now I love exploring a new field. I also enjoy polite environments, and non-competitive roles.

When people complain about their jobs, about feeling trapped, about ... I feel saddened for them. Not because they have bad jobs, but because they don't utilise them to develop towards something they do love. Yes, I know, it's not necessarily an easy process, with the job market being tough, responsibilities (payments, shopping, rent, children-related expenses, etc.) playing a role, and so forth. Still, situations are created, not perennial realities. I am saddened because they have not had the will to move on to what they truly would love. In some cases, because they cling on to what was, what they used to enjoy, hoping it will repeat itself.

People, like the frog in the heating water, seem more willing to adapt until death, than to leap out looking for a new pond.

Whatever it is you do, I wish you strong legs for a mighty jump; a brave heart to make the choice; and constant growth to make your soul sing.

I wish you, too, love your job.

Sound and silence

I like silence, be it the kind that makes you hear ringing at night; the kind that spreads wide on a hill surrounded by space; or the kind one finds in libraries and similar locations.

There is also the murmuring silence, where there is a group of people, sometimes even a large group, yet everyone speaks softly, shortly, secretly. This is the sort one finds at a centre of prayer such as churches or synagogues; the sort before a classical concert; the sort that populates the water, once we are totally submerged, or bathes in a crackling log fire on a cold winter night, cosy in fleecy socks.

Yes, I like silence, with its comforting hush and pillow-like sense of emptiness, of potential.

Living in a society plagued with noise, silence has always been a precious commodity. Particularly when one attempts to share its joy with other people. Most people, I'm sure you'll agree, claim to want 'peace and quiet'. Except, dictionaries to the contrary, their quiet does not mean silence. Most people, it seems, need to fill silence with sound; particularly, the sound of their voices. And, the more they hear their voice, the louder they get, until silence succumbs, leaving dejectedly at being so unwanted.

I have always ended up torn between frustration and the need to socialise. I was brought up to be polite, where polite means, in this sense, responding nicely to others (even when they are interrupting) when spoken to by someone. This is particularly trying at queues and on public transport. How to tell people that no, I am not interested in chatting and would rather just enjoy being? My brain noise is more than enough in and of its own, thank you. So is hearing the person on their mobile two rows back, the children squealing in excitement at the sweeties their grandmother is giving out, and the radio playing so our driver (bless 'em) remains sane while facing yet another traffic jam. And yes, I do love reading, thank you, that's why I have a book wide open on my lap. And I'm glad your niece, who also loves reading, is a lovely girl, but really, I don't think I need to know anything about her.

Then, today, I was granted silence. Yes, there were noises all around, but the person who sat next to me on the bus simply gave me a glance, then looked at my book, smiled and looked away! When my stop was coming up, I lifted my eyes again, and noticed the lady had fallen asleep. More than that, the people in front of us were practising murmuring silence. I felt grateful for the little miracle I was just then aware I had been living through. What made it even more magical was that, in this case, silence had been the one to spread, rather than noise, and with it, restfulness.

I will enjoy noise later on, while dancing to some rock, or pop, or whatever music tickles my fancy then. But, for now, I'll bask in silence, the one only broken by the noise of the keyboard taps and my breathing.

tap - tap - tap - - -  -   -    -     -

What we choose to celebrate

Last week, it was my birthday, but I was away for a week, so when I came back to work today, I got all the best wishes. I thanked my coworkers, then went on with my life. I don't really get why people celebrate birthdays. Actually, I do, but only for people who've had a life-threatening scare or are fighting a life condition, which they have overcome (maybe just for now, but a day at a time). In these cases, the people have sort of 'earned' the understanding of what an amazing achievement completing another solar year really means. For the rest of us, who simply live by inertia, unconsciously grateful for modern medicine and a comfortable environment, it has no real meaning.

So, why was I away last week, if not to celebrate my birthday?

To celebrate life.

In a few days, it will be my mother's 7th death anniversary, and my sister and I decided it was time to let her last remains go free, as she loved being. We decided to release her ashes, close that cycle. More than anything, we decided to celebrate my mother's life and the joy she meant to us.

I went to visit my sister for a week, enjoying the company of people I love, people she loved. My nephew, whom my mum used to call 'shrimp' (he's about 1.80 m tall), also came to celebrate her. We got her the kind of box she liked, we placed with her some of her loved flowers. We set up a play list full of fun, full of funky beats, full of gumption. We placed her in the sea, where she can float and swim, go anywhere in the world, under the brilliant sun she worshipped. We laughed remembering her quirks, and her no-nonsense approach to discipline (wide open palm, once, across the face, which we all resented yet made us laugh that night). We made a feast, ate and drank in her memory, ended up with some fresh strawberries and rich whipped cream. We cried a bit, together; we mostly laughed, together.

We said goodbye, not to celebrate her death, but to remember her life. We chose to embody her joy, to release her by reliving what she loved. We were finally able to love her enough to do so with honest zest. We go on with life, as she urged us on, all those years back.

Life and death, they are a constant, which can be very sad and scary, or life-full, love-full, courage-full.

Last weekend, we chose love, we chose life.

Letting my mother go was the most exquisitely painful and loving moment of my birthday week.
I couldn't have asked for anything better, anything more. 

Celebrate those around you, not once a year, but with every laugh, hug, chat, tear you share.

I celebrate you.