Parting.

"Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,That I shall say good night till it be morrow" 

 Shakespeare  knew. Parting is always bittersweet. It is not only when you're leaving for good,

 it is as well when you're leaving for short period of time.

I think this is due to the fact that leaving is always separate ourselves from the comfort of the known, usual routine for something new, exciting and unexpected. And if when you're 20 the question if the unexpected and new is more desirable than the routine is utterly rhetorical, when you hit 30 this starts to be a question that wants an answer.

 

So, so long to the new at all cost. We start calculating if change is worth it. We start calculating the consequences of our decisions, and to consider the probabilities of success.

Basically, getting older means becoming a mathematician!

Already December

It is already December. Time really flies.

I remember when I was a teenager I couldn't wait to be eighteen, to be "adult".
One day one of my aunts told me: "Enjoy these years because from 18 to 30 time will run and then will just fly".I remember the thought that my teenager self had: completely disbelief in these words.

And now I discovered, as I think everyone just after 30 discover, they were true.
Youth is over the first time you caught yourself thinking "They were right", they being any older relative of your childhood who tried to prepare yourself for the adult life and disappointment. At one moment, (one sad moment usually for women) you stop to grow up and you start to age.
The  process is biologically the same but, ah, how different it is in our mind! You are not anymore a world of possibilities, you start to experience the consequences of your choices. Oh, yes, it is still possible to change and there are still million choices out there to be made, but you will lose the freedom of taking the risk, taking the chance, because "Every action causes an equal and contrary reaction" will be more that a physic law. It is, as a matter of fact, a life's law. And there is nothing to complain about, it is only important to become aware of it. A superficial ignorance of the life is a prerogative of young people.

Growing up is loosing this prerogative.

Changes.

Time flies. The changes in our lives are main reason we notice that (beside the wrinkles).

There is a moment when everything once stable and sure starts to change, and we lose the safe structure of your childhood. 
Someone passes away, someone else moves abroad, and all your kid's certainties are challenged from the foundation. 

 This is not necessarily a sad process, but surely it is a melancholic one. 

It is as well true that the only way a human being has to proceed, develop and progress is through changes. From this point of view they are our best friends: they bring us toward the person that we have the potentiality to be. 
To live below our potentialities is a source of frustration. Often we do not even recognize it, dragged as we are by the force of the habit, one of the strongest influence on men and women lives. We settle, we stop to look for something and we try to convince ourselves that we actually found something, even if the evidences point to the contrary. This process goes on until a change comes to destabilize us. 

Therefore, welcome to changes.

 They could not be what we wanted, but they are almost always what we need.

Too busy to be sad

These days I've been pretty busy at work. It is a wonderful sensation, isn't, having the brain busy working and thinking, and the time flies enjoyably.
 I found that this is true even when the job you are up to it's not the job you imagined for you.
 I think this is due to the amazing adaptability of the human being.
We are made to be happy, and we try to be so despite what is happening in our lives, despite the conditions w e live in, or the choices we made.

 This is reassuring: we will always find a way to be happy. 

 Unless what we deeply want is to be unhappy: the easiest thing of all.

Something new, something old.

It has been a nice week end. It gives me a bit of flu, for the tiredness and the cold, and the rain, (normal administration for an Irish week end) but it has been a nice one.

Travelling, even for a short distance, it enhances the relax of the week end.
I think this might be due with a sensation of escape. Even if we like our job, our friends'circle, we always have a sensation we need a break, a place where we can be safe from the daily worries and even from the daily joys.
   Why is this?  
             It is just because the mankind is eternally unsatisfied?
                    Is it because we want always something more, something different?
  And once we had that something different, we want back what we had before.


It is an eternal race with the next wish. At the end of the day, it is always the same old story. Even writing these lines I reckon that this is so trite to be boring, but sometimes we need to pause one second and reflect about the ugly truth of the trite common sense.

                                                There is no escape to this.

Little things II

Relaxing time with friends after work, chatting about our lives and our dreams.
Coming back home and finding your flatmates on the couch watching the Champions League.
Laughing with your cousin about Disney movie.
Going out in the balcony to smell the winter night.

Every little helps, as a famous supermarket said... And it's so true. The little things are the ones which make your day worth to be lived.
Happiness is reachable from everyone, if only  we learn how to see.

Boredom

It is a strange feeling, boredom. Why do we get bored?
It happens even when we actually do have something to do.
Baudelaire understood the essence of boredom. It is something that covers our spirit when we are doing what is not in line with ourselves, when we would like to do something totally different.
Sometimes, we are not aware of that, and the Ennui comes and let us know that we're going in the wrong direction.

So, even being bored is useful.

LXXVI - Spleen
J'ai plus de souvenirs que si j'avais mille ans.

Un gros meuble à tiroirs encombrés de bilans,
De vers, de billets doux, de procès, de romances,
Avec de lourds cheveux roulés dans des quittances,
Cache moins de secrets que mon triste cerveau.
C'est une pyramide, un immense caveau,
Qui contient plus de morts que la fosse commune.
- Je suis un cimetière abhorré de la lune,
Où comme des remords se traînent de longs vers
Qui s'acharnent toujours sur mes morts les plus chers.
Je suis un vieux boudoir plein de roses fanées,
Où gît tout un fouillis de modes surannées,
Où les pastels plaintifs et les pâles Boucher
Seuls, respirent l'odeur d'un flacon débouché.

Rien n'égale en longueur les boiteuses journées,
Quand sous les lourds flocons des neigeuses années
L'ennui, fruit de la morne incuriosité
Prend les proportions de l'immortalité.
- Désormais tu n'es plus, ô matière vivante!
Qu'un granit entouré d'une vague épouvante,
Assoupi dans le fond d'un Sahara brumeux
Un vieux sphinx ignoré du monde insoucieux,
Oublié sur la carte, et dont l'humeur farouche
Ne chante qu'aux rayons du soleil qui se couche.

Les Fleurs du mal - Spleen et Idéal - Charles Baudelaire

Monday morning.

Monday morning. Again. It took a lot to be optimistic on Monday morning too.
I do not know why this is so painful. Everything looks grayer on Mondays. The same weather that seems so lovely on Saturdays, on Mondays is just awful. It's winter, it's cold, it's raining. Even if tomorrow all of those will make you smile, today they're the end of the world.

Until you allow them to be so. If you stop one moment the flow of the complaining to realise that is not the actual thing, but is only the day that makes everything sad, you can rebel against this silliness.

Mondays will always come, always once a week: why make ourselves miserable once a week for the rest of our lives, for something that is totally out of our control?

Therefore, so long Mondays mood! I've decided it is not so bad, after all.

Time.

Winter arrived. The cold in the air hits your face when you're walking, but it's not unpleasant.
The seasons' changes are welcome: they mark the time flying away, that means you're still living. Often we are afraid for the time passing by, but I'm wondering why. After all, the only alternative of getting old is dying. Not so bad, if you're looking at it from this point of view.
It's a question of perspective, as everything is. We are able to create our happiness or our desperation, it's a decision on which perspective you want to choose.

Happiness is nothing but a decision.

Difference and Equality.

I was talking with one of my colleague the other day about work's atmosphere, and we found an interesting point.
At least, I found it so, and it would be interesting knowing the opinion of the net about it.

In a team is usually easier to deal with a man manager.
I think this is due to all the struggles women faced to reach the top of the work chain. For this reason, they tend to became more manly than the men themselves, to try to be their equal.

So, whilst the modern society claims to have overcome the prejudice against the women in charge, or in place of responsibility, all that they have done is to have eliminated the feminine from them, creating human beings that are covering their own nature at the point to forget it.

Until being brave enough, good enough, tough enough will be identified with having the man physical attributes, the woman as she is will never be really equal.

Real equality is not blindness to difference, is not pretending that the difference is not there, but it is giving the possibility to the difference to be itself.


Only if everyone can be different, we will be really equal.

Astonishment II

The atmosphere in the pub was warm and pleasant. A group were playing traditional music, and few old couples were dancing on the floor.

-It was exactly what we needed, after this long rainy day-. Said Kevin, relaxed with his cold beer in a hand.

-Totally agree. Visiting the Dingle bay in February was maybe not the best choice- Admitted Sharon with a sigh. All the day long she had to bear his complains about the wind and the rain, unable as he was to appreciate the beauty of a landscape, without a Californian sun shining above them.

It was they first trip in Europe, and she carefully planned to visit all the places she heard about from her friends. Her best friend spent one year as Au pair in Ireland before the College, minding the children of a local couple, whilst she was force to give up their planned journey to mind her own, unexpected child. At that time, she did not regret the choice, but after ten years she begged her husband to fulfil her teen dream.

Kevin was not so thrilled about the idea of leaving his beloved Sacramento to spend three weeks in the old and boring Europe. But he acknowledged with himself that he owed that to his wife. However, in the deal they had, nowhere was said he could not complain, and this was exactly what he did. Tired of seeing ships and cows in a misty rain, he was not in the perfect mood for a second honeymoon.

Anyway, in that pub for the first time he felt relaxed and in the right place. The music in the background reminded him of American country music, of which he was a huge fan, and the warm stew he was having dried the cold entered in his bones as they were viewing bay after bay

He was such in a good mood, that he even asked Sharon for a dance.

She was not totally sure about it, as it was years she didn't dance, but noticing in the mood of her usually grumpy husband, she would not lost the chance. They reach the dance floor among the applause of the audience, and the old couple near them offered to teach them the steps. Such a friendly people, the Irish, Sharon tough in delight. A night like that, was one she will never forget.

Around eleven, the tiredness starts to win over their enthusiasm, and they decided to reach their bed and breakfast, few miles away. Stepping out of the door, for a moment the mist was so dense they could not locate their car, parked right in front of the main entrance. The rain did not stop, and Kevin said: Let's go back inside for a while, until the rain calms down.

In the total silence of the night, they turned their back to the door of the pub, and all they saw was an old, ruined cottage, with a signboard waving in the wind.

They looked in each other eyes, astonished and petrified.

#Quote

 I think quotes are a great thing. Little pills of wisdom adaptable for every occasion.
Anyway, as it always happens, this pill needs to be take with moderation, and wisely.
This creates a problem, in this Internet Era. In the past, to be able to quote someone, you would need to read his works. Now everyone can look for any quote, without any contest.
The missing contest not only damage the meaning of the aphorism, but is also a risk for the authenticity.
Quoting someone, now nobody puts the source (like in which book, newspaper, or speech the famous person said that sentence). So, everyone can invent the quote he prefers and make Einstein saying that.
We passed from the "ipse dixit" as mark from authenticity to the "everyone says so".

End even if the "ipse dixit" was somehow damaging the intellectual growth of a generation, the "everyone says so" kills the intellectual growth, as it brings with it an indifference for the truth and the accuracy, for the culture and the literature, that can be very worrying for the future of mankind.

But maybe it is just me dreaming about the good old times?

And, just to be in line what I just said, here there is a quotation from a writer that I love, and I have no idea if she ever wrote this and where :)

"Never do anything for yourself that others can do for you"

Agatha Christie 

Little things

This morning it was raining a bit. 

Walking to the bus stop, I decided to listen some music, Bach's Brandenburg concertos. Suddenly, the world around me started a choreography designed by the universe: the seagulls dancing above the river, the postwoman stopping to give mails, the middle aged man accompanying his wife to work with their dog, the tireless jogger who doesn't care about the weather.

It brightens my day.

Everything is better with the music. It takes so little to be happy.

Astonishment

And this was about 25 years ago-. Once said this sentence, something clicked on Daisy's head. While she continued to describe to his journalist friend how was like having Sundays' breakfast back in her village in her childhood, her mind started another conversation with herself. 25 years ago? How is it possible to remember things happened a quarter of century before? For the first time after her birthday, she realised she was getting old. There is a moment in every woman life when the so called biological clock starts to sounds louder and louder. Turning thirty and being alone put in place a peculiar mechanism, something that can be called survival instinct. She starts to give up the wait for the infamous Mr. Right, or Prince Charming, and she starts to look for a father. A father of her yet unborn children.

While this conversation was carrying on in her head, they kept on strolling along the river. Dublin was shining brightly after the morning shower, and the trees' leaves dropped once in a while a bit of water, just to remember that sunny days are not the usual condition for a dubliner afternoon.

Even if she thought she was speaking normally, John realised that something glitched in her mind. As a investigative reporter, as he pleased to think of himself, he believed to be able to notice any change in his interlocutor expressions that can lead to a discovery.

Anyway, this time he preferred not to ask was going on in her friend's mind, and settle instead to propose to stop for a coffee beside the Liffey. They choose a little kiosk with a nice view of the Ha' Penny bridge. People were nicely converging on river side, families strolling together, children running, taking advantage of the shining day.

-What would you take?

-A latte, as usual, John, thank you.

John left for ordering the beverage, and Daisy amused herself in observing the humanity gathered there. A lovely blond child caught her attention. He was climbing the fence of the river, crying to get his mother's attention. The woman was sitting on the bench, chatting with her friend about an interesting broken marriage of another friend of them. She did not pay too much attention to the evolution of the young climber.

Daisy was more interested than her, lead by her new discovery of a maternity desire. The little boy gained the top of the fence, and in an adventurous mood tried to catch a butterfly flying a few inches of his face. The distance was bigger than he tough, and suddenly he fell in the river with a capriole. Finally he get the mother's attention, she screamed fearfully. John, coming back with the coffees, throw them away without hesitation and jump in the river to rescue the boy. He took him between the waves after a short struggle, and applause were coming from the viewers above. He never seemed more attractive in Daisy's eyes.

-What happened to you? It's the second time I'm calling you. Daisy woke up from her daydream and looked in John's eyes. Everything was calm, beside the river.

-Sorry, I was lost in a reverie. What were you saying?
-I just receive a call, I have to go
-What happened?
-A boy fell down in the river few bridges from here. They are trying to rescue him. If I make it on time to eyewitness the rescue, maybe this time my editor will give me the headline story at the newspaper.
He said in a hurry, and left. Daisy stare at his back as he was running away, astonished.

New starts are not always a change.

Here I am, spending my afternoon reflecting on the real meaning of change.
How often change position, role, country, is not really a change? Speaking by experience, I would say most of the times. People seek changes because they are bored, tired, labelled in their lives, but this is not really what they need to modify to make a turn in their days.
It is always a question of attitude. It does not matter how far you will travel, because you will carry within yourself the core of the problem: the way you face life.