A lesson of humbleness

A lifetime ago, I was working as a secretary in a consulting company. The nine months I spent there were of great help. I learned a lot about who I am, how I would like to be and remain over the years, how a team looks like and how important it is to be at ease with your colleagues so that yourk work gives good results. Also, I learned important lessons about patience, integrity, responsibility, trust in one's own strength and capacity and modesty.

Thus, when I left there for another role in another company, I highly appreciated the team I had joined, a team with which I still keep in touch, even though there are about seven years since we no longer work together. I am proud of this. Some are not just as lucky to keep in touch with former teams. I must admit, my parents have been very keen about teaching me to observe certain principles, among which that of 'to leave room for hello (I paraphrased the Romanian saying; it means that even though the situation was unbearable, the people involved kept a professional attitude about it)'. But this is not the only reason for managing to keep in contact with former colleagues. I reckon that keeping in touch is a two-way street. Both parties try to stay in touch and so the relationship continues. Even though it is not at the same level as it used to be.

Coming back to the experience I was referring to at the start of this article, I was a main actor in an episode that I constantly go back to.
The cleaning lady at this company used to come a few hours earlier than us so that she could finish cleaning by the time we arrived at the office. One morning, she asked me if she could leave earlier. I asked if she needed help with something and she told me that she needed to hurry home because her daughter was supposed to go to school and since it had snowed a lot the evening before she had to take her daughter's pair of boots.
The image of the two, mother and daughter, sharing the same pair of boots can never be erased from my memory.

To this image I turn to anytime I feel like feeling sorry for myself or I offer it as parable to people who I think will not see it as offensive. I will not think of myself as superior and give you advice about how to live your life. But my experience so far (and that of those I've been blessed with having in my life) shows me that we tend to appreciate the things we no longer have and it is easier to make ourselves feel better if we should compare our lives to those who have it rougher than us. 

I don't draw conclusions, nor offer recommendations. I give you, in return, this lesson of humbleness that I received years ago. Let it guide you when you should think there is no way out!

The Portable Veblen - Elizabeth McKenzie

Oh, there are so many beautiful things to say about this book…

Aside from the fact that squirrels are special characters in this novel (well, you already know I love squirrels), this is surely a story anyone can relate to.

Veblen, a long-term squirrel obsessive, is going to get married to Paul, a neurologist. While trying to make sense of the things she must have at her wedding, Veblen’s emotional state starts to entangle as she tries to understand the message behind the appearance of squirrels, settle for a ring that does not quite suit her, and endure the whims of a narcissistic and hypochondriac mother.

Paul’s family, his disabled brother and parents, is not quite characterized by easy-going people either. Referring to their family as ‘the tripod’, Paul’s parents seem to have left a lot of holes in his emotional upbringing.

This story is an ode to anyone who has ever felt neglected or manipulated, constantly struggling to find or to keep their self-esteem at least at normal levels. I should say that it has a healing side to it, this book. Sure, a sense of closure can sometimes go that extra mile.

Do you remember when you were a kid and you thought you were magical? That you could see through things like no adult could? Well, Veblen can still do that, and she’s an adult. There is a sure thread of magic realism in this novel and those for a taste of it will surely enjoy it.

You’ll have a wonderful time while reading this book, I’m sure. And you’ll also have a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, that I can vouch for.

Good morning!

Here's an idea I've been carrying around for a while now. Telling you a story about the image above, that is.
This picture I took is the perfect reflection of a canvas my grandparents used to have in one of the rooms in their home. When I saw it, so proudly displayed on the wall of a very nice old cuisine restaurant, I was indeed very happy. And also grateful. And this because I did not have the chance to take a picture of it while my grandparents were still alive and nor did I think I could search it on the internet.

All these feelings were soon overcome by an avalanche of sweet memories and longings I did not think about for a while. They say that people become immortal through those that remember them, talk and think about them. 
Well, I do believe it. And I think that there are others who feel that way too; which is a good thing because sometimes it's hard to endure the thought that one is alone and misunderstood. 

'And why did I write these lines?', you would ask. Well, to share with you the feelings I get when I look at the image above. How a smell of morning envelops me (yes, of morning; and if you are skeptical, please remember the mornings your mother used to wake you up and call you for breakfast, and the herbal tea warmly touched your nostrils and conveyed a slight but sure feeling that you will manage to wake up; remember the mornings when you could not wait to go on trips or those when you were finally going to reunite with someone you were missing for a long time ... and many other such moments, that surely have left a strong impression upon you). Yes, it smells of morning and the air is so cold and fresh that it hurts when you breath it in, the rooster is crowing and the hens keep the tone. Azor, the dog, is barking, obviously upset of the fact that it does not get any attention, the door to the attic squeaks and then we can hear it closing and a shuffling of feet conveys the message that the eggs are done and grandma awaits for us at the table.

Many times I looked at the canvas and thought about the number of hairs in the toothbrush and the two vessels, how they all made almost the exact picture I could see on a table in a room from my grandparents' house. I knew that one could order portraits, and I wondered if people also ordered still life embroidered canvas.

I am sure that there are a lot of people who will find a sort of connection with this picture, too. To those of you I'd like to convey the following message: Good morning, don't forget to remember!