Once upon a time…no, just kidding… It was exactly three years ago, when I moved into my new flat. The very first moment I saw it, I knew - it is my place to recover. Since then, I’ve lived every inch of that place. The balcony in particular.
I write when I feel I have something to say, something important. Not just anything. On the other hand, I realize regularity is the key if you really want to connect with this one-sided communication mode called blog. And I’m torn. I haven’t written here for a long time now although there was so much much going on. Or maybe that’s why. Sometimes I simply feel a story worth telling needs space, time, nurture. Perhaps, giving myself the permission for that time and space was my biggest lesson in recent weeks. Perhaps. Or a major setback, no idea yet…
To me, a sheer rookie at blogging, this is the place where I want to share something I perceive as important. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t I suppose. Telling you my stories, I need to have a purpose. An idea that is worth mentioning, naming, addressing as perhaps reading it will, eventually, evoke the „me too” reaction. I’m writing about the previous weeks to tell you and myself for that matter something you probably know, but I still consider important enough to repeat and remind…
I remember the train - it was a hot June afternoon - I was travelling to Warsaw from Poznań and on the phone with my friend who worked in the capital at that time. I needed that conversation a lot. I was just about to attend a job interview I knew very little of.
I had no idea what to think. My mind was in a void then, on the one hand happily in love, on the other grieving. As if I had to choose between the worlds.
It was supposed to be about skis. Then, about grit itself. Then, I thought it will a good idea to write about the stages one may have once grieving (yes, what we’re going through globally now can be seen as this exactly). Then, again, I went back to the idea of skis…Ideas are plenty in my head, too plenty at times to be honest. It becomes even more complicated when I try...
Some of us run for health, some for status, to show off, to stay fit. Some, again, to escape, have some time for oneself, become a part of something bigger, a part of a group. In my case, well, to be honest it was a mix I guess. I was fascinated with the amount of people who liked it. I wanted to check for myself.
In one of her books, Brene Brown tells a story of a speech she was to give on a conference. The whole thing starts with her peeking at the audience and realising what the „C-level managers” meant… While panicking, she received comfort and advice from another speaker, a sound advice she took wholeheartedly, and did too. It’s all about people...
Shortly after my 35th Birthday I watched „The life of PI”. And I fell in love. No, not in Piscine. In the whale. The huge blue whale ( at least I think it was the blue one). I watched that scene again and again. Do you get that sometimes? The moments in songs, in movies that you want to return to as they make you feel… hm, alive, happy, strong, willing..?
I thrive on life experience. Being a kinesthetic, actually feeling the touch smell, scent, makes me going, allows me to grow. When I think of life, I immediately think of experiencing it, testing, trying, seeing for myself if something is for me or not… It’s the diversity that I love. Multiple tasks, multiple cultures, multiple careers.
When I was five years old, we went with my mum to the UK, to visit her brother. He and his wife, Debbie, just had their second daughter. My mum was to become her godmother. Back then, in 1986, flying a plane abroad was a big thing…especially for a five-year-old whose never left the country before.
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