Open to them

“If you don’t make the time to work on creating the life you want, you’re eventually going to be forced to spend a LOT of time dealing with the life that you don’t want.” Kevin Ngo

I do not usually like quotes that are somewhat threatening in tone, but I do like this one as it reminds me to be responsible for looking after my life. My life is in my hands and I need to give it meaning and purpose if I want us to flourish.

But looking after my daily life is just part of my personal responsibility. Another part is to make meaning out of my past.

”My mother was the love of my life.” – is a quote from Cheryl Strayed that I embrace warmly.

I adore this sentence so much for so many reasons but mainly for how well it counters our blame-oriented culture of today, the culture that seeks to blame our parents for who we have or have not become. The culture that renders us deficient in will and efficacy because of who our parents were or weren’t. The culture that teaches us to point fingers at the people whose youth, intentions and histories we cannot possibly experience. I think it’s good to work through childhood traumas, it’s good to examine our responses to them, but I do not think that we should succumb to the culture of blame. Because by doing that, we see our childhood as poorer than it actually was. I saw people being poisoned by the blame-oriented mindset more than by their actual childhood experiences. I saw people being stuck for years because of it. ”My mother was the love of my life.” – this sentence does the opposite. It gives meaning and sense to our childhoods. It shows that adults are fragile but also wonderfully capable of loving each other. Capable of loving deeply and dearly, and isn’t it what we all want? To be capable of such love for many people in our lives.

Sometimes I wonder what’s the purpose of the blame-oriented culture. To break, to divide, to render someone insecure. To cause grief? I know that many people would not be able to be so candid about their own mothers as Cheryl Strayed was. I know that for many their childhood experiences are too painful to even hear such words being spoken. But this quote is not only about the mother, right? But about the loves of our life. Beyond the question of our relationship with our parents, it nudges us to ask: What are the loves of our life? What can we do to be truly open to them?

Happy to live with ghosts

In the corner of my mum’s attic there is an old sewing machine which is waiting to be transported to our house. It belonged to my grandmother and I can easily recall its clicking sound and the image of my grandmother’s hands bowed over it with a piece of navy blue fabric that she would use to sew a dress for one of her many granddaughters. I know that soon this sewing machine will take a prominent place in our house; somewhere between my desk for reading and writing and next to this vintage typewriter that once sat in a little closet in my husband’s childhood home, to remind me of all the things that my now deceased grandmother exemplified: discipline, work, beauty.

With the Internet being full of different approaches to decorating houses, I have been for a while thinking if I have one. I have been drawn very much to the ideas encapsulated in the Japanese ancient philosophy of Wabi-Sabi, so beautifully pictured and described here and here by my two favourite bloggers. You will learn from these posts that Wabi-Sabi is about seeing beauty in imperfections, appreciation of the ordinary, and although I feel a strong affinity for it I know that it is not me entirely. It definitely speaks to my imagination, helps me forgive myself for not being perfect, and agrees with my non-consumerist approach to the many of life matters… but I mainly draw courage from our family histories… to answer my curiosity and calling just as the people before me had the courage to do it.

Our house stores a few objects that once functional are now primarily memories of our ancestors, of people who at some time were present in our lives. We are now left with pictures, photographs, books, an old butler (the piece of furniture, not the man servant). I think that we keep those things because what we value is continuity and we appreciate what has been attempted by them. Those objects represent their dreams, their aspirations and their qualities. Sources of strength. I am delighted to live with ghosts like these.

Sometimes I think that we fall into the trap of believing that we live in the golden age and that previous thinking, products, or actions somehow did not exist in the past or were totally inferior to the present. Can we really be so smug, but at the same time so insecure, about our contemporary skills and successes? I feel that the things that we choose to surround ourselves with have the capacity to both ease our insecurity and give us the perspective that a) we are part of a story that is longer than our lifespans and b) that our lives will also become part of someone else’s history.

Isn’t it a reason good enough to live a courageous and fulfilling life abundant with gratitude?

Waiting for change

Sometimes we look for winter and we find autumn. Forced to take a step back. Forced to revisit what has happened before. Disappointed that the past is actually the present. Disappointed that things do not change quickly enough. But the past is never fruitless.The past can still give more…