I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
December 8, 2015
vantage (n.)
[Originally written for Life.Actually]
It’s officially been one whole month since I left Vancouver and though I’ve been reflecting a lot, I thought it was about time I reflected more constructively on what I’ve learned since I arrived - about myself, what I want out of this move, and out of life in general. Funnily enough, today I went up to Sky Garden on Fenchurch Street and by getting a new vantage point of the City of London, it also got me thinking about my own perspectives on things since I’ve arrived here.
I always told myself that the success of this journey of mine didn’t really depend on “success” - that even failure would be a learning that would uncover something beneficial, even essential. So far, I am still unemployed (no surprise there though), though I’ve done quite a bit of work already - on myself.
Here’s what I’ve been working through over the last few weeks. (The first week was a bit of a shock to the system and my primary realization was that I cope pretty well with change….so long as I remember to slow down - slow down long enough to process and write (and get enough sleep)).
1. Life is work. And a work of art. Balancing life and work is really about integrating them rather than separating them. Even if we slice up our days and still call it “work-life balance,” in the long run, they are one. It takes effort to live fully, and well, and to play; but in the end, the quality of our time here is a consequence of how hard we worked to live a good life (read that in any way you wish).
2. My extroverted tendency is very ambivalent. I’ve enjoyed investigating my desire for privacy versus my need to recharge from being around others (and who those others are plays a huge part, too). I am much more mindful of my time, and when I share it with others I’ve found I’m focusing more on moments rather than seeing “the relationship” as a function of accrued time. This is likely because I’m meeting all sorts of people with whom I haven’t had lots of time to accrue in the first place. I’m realizing in many ways this is how deeper, more meaningful - not necessarily long-term (and that’s okay) - relationships form: with moments, rather than repeated time together. This wasn’t as obvious before as it’s been a long time since I’ve had to put in such efforts to make new friends. I’ve been much more mindful of each experience as these are more prominent than the “history” I have with each person here (which in most cases is non-existent).
I’d like to apply this lens, of having relationships more moment/experience-oriented, with new and existing friendships more. The people I miss most from home - and from the past and in my life in general - are those with whom certain deep, experiential moments of growth stand out. Some moments require an investment of time, of course. It’s about striking a balance between these two outlooks; and it begins, I think, with a certain self-awareness - and one that can only come with spending quality time with yourself so that you can become more mindful of your time spent with other people.
3. Tapping into melancholy makes me feel very alive. And creative. (This can be dangerous.)
4. I’m all about discovering joy. Being here new to the city with somewhat erratic connections to people and places, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to explore all sorts of lifestyles, cultures, groups, events, interests, and activities. I’ve enjoyed most of it in a very sincere way and it’s made me learn that I’m a bit of a social chameleon (though not in the way that makes me inauthentic.) I just tend to be able to derive quite a lot of deep joy from a very diverse set of people and experiences. Sometimes this makes me feel like I’ve lost myself or that I’m not sure of my identity - which may explain #2 and (particularly) #3. But in the end, it’s about finding joy and I’m happy to be defined by that.
5. Structure is important - ideal when voluntary. I gravitate towards stability and routine, and I like to plan. I love to be spontaneous within (ideally, my chosen) structure. I cannot live without the feeling of home, and this comes from the experience of safety, which ultimately comes from the experience of familiarity, patterns, and knowns.
6. Life is an existential compromise. The sooner you realize this the more choice you’ll have in what those compromises are. (I won’t get into this one tonight…)
7. Feedback is key. I took some career personality assessments as part of a PD course I’m taking through UBC and learned that I feel most motivated at work when: I see that what I’m doing has impact on others. A common way to see the impact we make is through feedback.
I also learned that I prefer to not have to ask for feedback. In my opinion, feedback is a sign of respect - from giving the mellowest nod of approval or thanks, to constructive criticism, suggestions, or full-fledged credit and large thank you’s. Next time you see someone ask you for money on the street, say something; it needn’t be a yes. Next time your colleague helps you with a project, give them credit. Go beyond just feeling gratitude for your loved ones; show them thanks.
8. Running has saved me. It pushes me forward to see new places and spaces outside and within myself. Exercise in general, I think, just lets my thoughts and emotions move through me in a healthy way and get better figured out. And if not figured out, at the very least, it lightens me up: It makes me move or realize I am always moving, dynamic, alive - even (and especially) at times when I feel stagnated, still, lazy, stuck.
9. Technology is both a blessing and a curse. For instance, I’m trying to rely on it less when navigating the city; it’s much easier to keep my eyes open for signage, use my brain to remember landmarks, or ask a person quickly for directions than it is to blindly follow my CityMapper arrow, spinning around in circles till I find North. However, it connects me to home and allows me to catch up with my loved ones. Sometimes I feel I’m straddling between two worlds, and so I apologize to many of you with whom I don’t talk as much as I should - It’s hard and taxing at times to relay every single thing that’s going on here with me especially as there is so much, I am 8 hours ahead, and it becomes redundant, vapid and monologue-y; but know you all come into my thoughts as I’m undoubtedly experiencing my life here by way of comparison (not in a bad diminutive way, just through retrospect). You’re all here in one way or another, and it need not be by way of technology.
10. Cooking is very therapeutic. You can make a home just by fixing yourself a plate of nutritious delicious food (even if at times it’s just toasted crumpets with Devonshire cream and plum jam).
With all this ruminating and writing, which I’m so glad I’ve been able to dedicate more time to while here, I’ve been sort of building these little lessons in my head. For now, it’s to help me feel on track, as I gather information about my life. I also imagine I’ll be revisiting this again to see if and how my impressions change after I spend more time here. But regardless of where things go, I already feel this move has been worth it.
Started on the Overground from Islington Dec 7. Completed on the Bakerloo from Charing Cross, Dec 8, 11:54pm.
It’s officially been one whole month since I left Vancouver and though I’ve been reflecting a lot, I thought it was about time I reflected more constructively on what I’ve learned since I arrived - about myself, what I want out of this move, and out of life in general. Funnily enough, today I went up to Sky Garden on Fenchurch Street and by getting a new vantage point of the City of London, it also got me thinking about my own perspectives on things since I’ve arrived here.
vantage (n.) early 14c., “advantage, profit,” from Old French avantage “advantage” (from avant “before,” probably via Latin abante, “advance”). Vantage point “favorable position” attested from 1865.
I always told myself that the success of this journey of mine didn’t really depend on “success” - that even failure would be a learning that would uncover something beneficial, even essential. So far, I am still unemployed (no surprise there though), though I’ve done quite a bit of work already - on myself.
Here’s what I’ve been working through over the last few weeks. (The first week was a bit of a shock to the system and my primary realization was that I cope pretty well with change….so long as I remember to slow down - slow down long enough to process and write (and get enough sleep)).
1. Life is work. And a work of art. Balancing life and work is really about integrating them rather than separating them. Even if we slice up our days and still call it “work-life balance,” in the long run, they are one. It takes effort to live fully, and well, and to play; but in the end, the quality of our time here is a consequence of how hard we worked to live a good life (read that in any way you wish).
2. My extroverted tendency is very ambivalent. I’ve enjoyed investigating my desire for privacy versus my need to recharge from being around others (and who those others are plays a huge part, too). I am much more mindful of my time, and when I share it with others I’ve found I’m focusing more on moments rather than seeing “the relationship” as a function of accrued time. This is likely because I’m meeting all sorts of people with whom I haven’t had lots of time to accrue in the first place. I’m realizing in many ways this is how deeper, more meaningful - not necessarily long-term (and that’s okay) - relationships form: with moments, rather than repeated time together. This wasn’t as obvious before as it’s been a long time since I’ve had to put in such efforts to make new friends. I’ve been much more mindful of each experience as these are more prominent than the “history” I have with each person here (which in most cases is non-existent).
I’d like to apply this lens, of having relationships more moment/experience-oriented, with new and existing friendships more. The people I miss most from home - and from the past and in my life in general - are those with whom certain deep, experiential moments of growth stand out. Some moments require an investment of time, of course. It’s about striking a balance between these two outlooks; and it begins, I think, with a certain self-awareness - and one that can only come with spending quality time with yourself so that you can become more mindful of your time spent with other people.
3. Tapping into melancholy makes me feel very alive. And creative. (This can be dangerous.)
4. I’m all about discovering joy. Being here new to the city with somewhat erratic connections to people and places, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to explore all sorts of lifestyles, cultures, groups, events, interests, and activities. I’ve enjoyed most of it in a very sincere way and it’s made me learn that I’m a bit of a social chameleon (though not in the way that makes me inauthentic.) I just tend to be able to derive quite a lot of deep joy from a very diverse set of people and experiences. Sometimes this makes me feel like I’ve lost myself or that I’m not sure of my identity - which may explain #2 and (particularly) #3. But in the end, it’s about finding joy and I’m happy to be defined by that.
5. Structure is important - ideal when voluntary. I gravitate towards stability and routine, and I like to plan. I love to be spontaneous within (ideally, my chosen) structure. I cannot live without the feeling of home, and this comes from the experience of safety, which ultimately comes from the experience of familiarity, patterns, and knowns.
6. Life is an existential compromise. The sooner you realize this the more choice you’ll have in what those compromises are. (I won’t get into this one tonight…)
7. Feedback is key. I took some career personality assessments as part of a PD course I’m taking through UBC and learned that I feel most motivated at work when: I see that what I’m doing has impact on others. A common way to see the impact we make is through feedback.
I also learned that I prefer to not have to ask for feedback. In my opinion, feedback is a sign of respect - from giving the mellowest nod of approval or thanks, to constructive criticism, suggestions, or full-fledged credit and large thank you’s. Next time you see someone ask you for money on the street, say something; it needn’t be a yes. Next time your colleague helps you with a project, give them credit. Go beyond just feeling gratitude for your loved ones; show them thanks.
8. Running has saved me. It pushes me forward to see new places and spaces outside and within myself. Exercise in general, I think, just lets my thoughts and emotions move through me in a healthy way and get better figured out. And if not figured out, at the very least, it lightens me up: It makes me move or realize I am always moving, dynamic, alive - even (and especially) at times when I feel stagnated, still, lazy, stuck.
9. Technology is both a blessing and a curse. For instance, I’m trying to rely on it less when navigating the city; it’s much easier to keep my eyes open for signage, use my brain to remember landmarks, or ask a person quickly for directions than it is to blindly follow my CityMapper arrow, spinning around in circles till I find North. However, it connects me to home and allows me to catch up with my loved ones. Sometimes I feel I’m straddling between two worlds, and so I apologize to many of you with whom I don’t talk as much as I should - It’s hard and taxing at times to relay every single thing that’s going on here with me especially as there is so much, I am 8 hours ahead, and it becomes redundant, vapid and monologue-y; but know you all come into my thoughts as I’m undoubtedly experiencing my life here by way of comparison (not in a bad diminutive way, just through retrospect). You’re all here in one way or another, and it need not be by way of technology.
10. Cooking is very therapeutic. You can make a home just by fixing yourself a plate of nutritious delicious food (even if at times it’s just toasted crumpets with Devonshire cream and plum jam).
With all this ruminating and writing, which I’m so glad I’ve been able to dedicate more time to while here, I’ve been sort of building these little lessons in my head. For now, it’s to help me feel on track, as I gather information about my life. I also imagine I’ll be revisiting this again to see if and how my impressions change after I spend more time here. But regardless of where things go, I already feel this move has been worth it.
Started on the Overground from Islington Dec 7. Completed on the Bakerloo from Charing Cross, Dec 8, 11:54pm.
December 3, 2015
pause (v.)
[Disclaimer: Not for the faint of heart. This one's really all over the place...]
If I’ve learned anything from not working for a month (for the first time in five years....) is that time moves much more slowly when unemployed - and that working, whether you love it or not, speeds things up. The fact that it took me a pause from work, the not doing of anything to ponder what exactly it is that I am doing, made me look this one up. Interestingly enough, the verb itself "to pause" came from the noun:
People everywhere complain a lot about work - particularly those working in environments and structures they don’t agree with. Walking through the financial core of London the other day made me reflect on some tragedy of the human condition - our urge to climb, to have, to get elsewhere only to find that ‘the top of the world’ isn’t really the top. It may be more about depth, I think.
The only way to combat the pity I feel for those who overwork themselves, often to the detriment of their health (we hear the Wall Street stories and suicide rates in corporate climbing...) is to think their work is their choice. But I do also wonder how voluntary it is. From afar, it may appear like a glass cage, a cubicle trap; but from the inside, you adapt. We are creatures of habit after all. And creatures of survival.
These characteristics coupled can quickly turn one small decision into a big life change. Days turn into long hard hours, which can quickly turn into a long hard life. And the way to keep that from happening is gaping things open a bit and becoming more reflective - pausing, even if for a moment, to become more mindful.
Judging from conversations with new friends here when speaking about their work and office cultures, I wonder about that; I wonder how many people reflect on what they are spending their long hours (or any hours) doing and what it’s all really for; what it’s really worth. Do all the rules make sense (must a lunch hour be only between 12-1?…How much do grandfathered-in policies actually improve productivity? What is my paycheque going towards? - and I won’t get into politics of where our taxes go here.)
Do we pose the questions necessary to derive meaning from the things we think we want and have to work for? Or do we avoid it because we fear it will unravel the puzzle and start asking us about our needs?
(I'm making assumptions here and know I come from a place of privilege; it's a luxury in a way to be able to pause and appreciate one's work relative to the rest of the world. Not all work can be a easily enjoyed, but I do think it can be done with integrity and this increases its value and one's appreciation of it.)
For those of us in the same corner from which I speak, those of us privileged with opportunity and more choices than most, why do many of us still complain?
Don’t be mistaken in thinking I have qualms about working hard. Contributing to the activity of culture and society is important in our self-establishment in the world. Work is a remedy to the symptoms of the alternative, (like existential nihilism (!) or chaos, which isn’t sustainable on an individual or a social level).
And don’t get me wrong; long hours can be good; and there’s nothing wrong with dedicating your entire life to work either. So long as you reflect on it and do make it a conscious choice. Without that I think it’s hard to derive enoughhappine joy from work. It may also give you the impetus to, at the very least, complain less and be a more positive energy in the world - and make other people’s work better. To all those who complain about their work without seeing what else it makes possible for them, to those in positions of power who ignore the potential for positive change in their office cultures to make them more...dare I say, human, and to those who just mindlessly don’t care much....I urge you to be more mindful about it.
And for those who do think and work mindfully and ask the tough questions, is the answer you come up with something you can truly live with? Can it stand the true test of time, all those long hours...and the many more that await us?
(yah this post is so nutty that I even have a poem)
We are all trapped by whatever life we live - this is a reality;
Whether we be bankers or bonkers
or hipsters or hippies
or immigrants or ignorants,
Madonnas or Marys,
or teachers or preachers or any kind of creatures….
We are all puzzle pieces, I think.
In order to fit in, each of us must conjoin with the other puzzle pieces around to form a picture, a whole, something that makes sense from some wider perspective.
Are you doing that? I don’t mean, fitting in; we all do that; I mean actually looking at what it is that you are creating when finding your trap and living in it?
If I’ve learned anything from not working for a month (for the first time in five years....) is that time moves much more slowly when unemployed - and that working, whether you love it or not, speeds things up. The fact that it took me a pause from work, the not doing of anything to ponder what exactly it is that I am doing, made me look this one up. Interestingly enough, the verb itself "to pause" came from the noun:
pause (v.) mid-15c., from pause (n.) and from Middle French pauser, from Late Latin pausare "to halt, cease, pause," ultimately from Late Latin pausa.The experience of a hiatus encourages reflection and inspired in me more effort to continue pausing and reflecting, even while incredibly busied with adapting to a new life here in London.
hiatus (n.) 1560s, "break or opening" in a material object, from Latin hiare, "to gape, stand open," from PIE root *ghai- "to yawn, gape. "Sense of "gap or interruption in events, etc."All of this thinking has come at a time when I spend quite a bit of time talking to people here about their work. While I'm navigating my job search and making contacts, I'm balancing it with enjoying the time I have to not have to be anywhere; but I know that finding work is essential, and on more days than you'd think, I envy those who have somewhere to be (especially with work Christmas party season on the horizon). But, I also hear many Londoners complain about “working long hours” a lot. On this subject, I’ll wax poetic for a bit. (Oh yes, I am in a position to speak about employment in a city I just moved to and am not working in yet...)
People everywhere complain a lot about work - particularly those working in environments and structures they don’t agree with. Walking through the financial core of London the other day made me reflect on some tragedy of the human condition - our urge to climb, to have, to get elsewhere only to find that ‘the top of the world’ isn’t really the top. It may be more about depth, I think.
The only way to combat the pity I feel for those who overwork themselves, often to the detriment of their health (we hear the Wall Street stories and suicide rates in corporate climbing...) is to think their work is their choice. But I do also wonder how voluntary it is. From afar, it may appear like a glass cage, a cubicle trap; but from the inside, you adapt. We are creatures of habit after all. And creatures of survival.
These characteristics coupled can quickly turn one small decision into a big life change. Days turn into long hard hours, which can quickly turn into a long hard life. And the way to keep that from happening is gaping things open a bit and becoming more reflective - pausing, even if for a moment, to become more mindful.
Judging from conversations with new friends here when speaking about their work and office cultures, I wonder about that; I wonder how many people reflect on what they are spending their long hours (or any hours) doing and what it’s all really for; what it’s really worth. Do all the rules make sense (must a lunch hour be only between 12-1?…How much do grandfathered-in policies actually improve productivity? What is my paycheque going towards? - and I won’t get into politics of where our taxes go here.)Do we pose the questions necessary to derive meaning from the things we think we want and have to work for? Or do we avoid it because we fear it will unravel the puzzle and start asking us about our needs?
puzzle (v.) 1590s, pusle "bewilder, confound," possibly frequentative of pose (v.) from Old French poser "put, place, propose," a term in debating, from Late Latin pausare "to halt, rest, cease, pause."I am no expert in the psychology of the workplace, but I have read research on how happiness is the ultimate motivator. The bottom line is that happiness boost the bottom line, which regardless of how we actually feel about the systems in place, if we can find joy in our work somehow, it's a win-win for everyone.
(I'm making assumptions here and know I come from a place of privilege; it's a luxury in a way to be able to pause and appreciate one's work relative to the rest of the world. Not all work can be a easily enjoyed, but I do think it can be done with integrity and this increases its value and one's appreciation of it.)
For those of us in the same corner from which I speak, those of us privileged with opportunity and more choices than most, why do many of us still complain?
Don’t be mistaken in thinking I have qualms about working hard. Contributing to the activity of culture and society is important in our self-establishment in the world. Work is a remedy to the symptoms of the alternative, (like existential nihilism (!) or chaos, which isn’t sustainable on an individual or a social level).
chaos (n.) late 14c., "gaping void," from Greek khaos "abyss, that which gapes wide open, is vast and empty," from *khnwos, from PIE root *gheu- "to gape, yawn."And it’s not just about money. Whatever the work (tending a garden or tending a hedge fund), it is in our pursuit of activity, of experience, of doing more, living more so we don't get bored, and ultimately, of survival - in spirit and body. I think, we forget this all too often.
(Also, meaning "utter confusion" (c. 1600), extended from theological use of chaos for "the void at the beginning of creation" in Vulgate version of Genesis (1530s in English). The Greek for "disorder" was tarakhe, however the use of chaos here was rooted in Hesiod ("Theogony"), who describes khaos as the primeval emptiness of the Universe, and in Ovid ("Metamorphoses"), who opposes Khaos to Kosmos, "the ordered Universe.")
And don’t get me wrong; long hours can be good; and there’s nothing wrong with dedicating your entire life to work either. So long as you reflect on it and do make it a conscious choice. Without that I think it’s hard to derive enough
And for those who do think and work mindfully and ask the tough questions, is the answer you come up with something you can truly live with? Can it stand the true test of time, all those long hours...and the many more that await us?
(yah this post is so nutty that I even have a poem)
We are all trapped by whatever life we live - this is a reality;
Whether we be bankers or bonkers
or hipsters or hippies
or immigrants or ignorants,
Madonnas or Marys,
or teachers or preachers or any kind of creatures….
We are all puzzle pieces, I think.
In order to fit in, each of us must conjoin with the other puzzle pieces around to form a picture, a whole, something that makes sense from some wider perspective.
Are you doing that? I don’t mean, fitting in; we all do that; I mean actually looking at what it is that you are creating when finding your trap and living in it?
trap (n.) "contrivance for catching unawares"It doesn’t matter what it is; it can be any box, but don’t get caught up in someone else’s wrapping and bows, otherwise you may find your long hours will wrap up quick and you’ll bow down to your own mortality with a buyer’s remorse; regret. A puzzling picture of what your life became instead of what you made it be but taking the time to....pause and reflect and become more aware.
October 3, 2015
step (v., n.)
Today, I signed my last rent cheque and just like that another milestone passed and I am one step closer to London.
Thinking about this on my way to work made me recall a chapter from DFW’s Infinite Jest. Near-death-turned-desperate long-time addict Don Gately learns that to arrive at a goal - like sobriety - only requires simple steps and training the mind to continue, to follow through. To take hold of something when you feel there's little to go on.
In the book, a fellow Ennet Recovery House resident offers Gately an analogy to help him deal with his doubt that prayer and AA-crafted internal dialogue will help him eventually drop the poison. The analogy? A Betty Crocker instant-cake mix. You follow the instructions and though you don’t really know the intricate details and chemistry of how the ingredients wind up turning into a cake in the end, you follow the instructions on the side of the box and can count on the fact that you’ll wind up with an edible cake as the end result.
You don’t necessarily have to have faith nor trust in that the steps will actually lead you to that ideal result, your dreamed-up destination or situation; all you have to do is start and follow the steps thoroughly, until one day you wake up sober, relaxed, and wondering how you ever doubted the process in the first place.
The last week has been a bit of a blur for me, as I’ve been mostly dealing with the logistics of moving - the paperwork. I handed in my resignation at work with a pretty heavy heart; I signed a sublet agreement with my friend Sam that marked a new chapter for the both of us; and yes, of course, I handed over that final October rent cheque.
I realize from the very start of all this back in August, when I made my decision to move away, it’s been mostly an act of going through the motions. Namely, getting through paperwork and rewiring my brain to spin this into an adventure rather than an ordeal; a continuation of a journey rather than a departure.
My heart hasn’t always been in every step, but I go through with each one anyway, one at a time, because I know if I proceed and tick the to-do boxes despite my emotional setbacks, I’ll eventually board that plane. I'll eventually wake up in London eating cake and feeling pretty okay about the whole thing....right?
Only one way to find out, I guess... Onto the next step...
+This cheesy over-used thing that you've probably been thinking about all along and which gets to the brunt of what I'm trying to articulate in far fewer steps...(ha!)
Thinking about this on my way to work made me recall a chapter from DFW’s Infinite Jest. Near-death-turned-desperate long-time addict Don Gately learns that to arrive at a goal - like sobriety - only requires simple steps and training the mind to continue, to follow through. To take hold of something when you feel there's little to go on.
step (v.) Old English steppan (Anglian), stæppan (West Saxon) "take a step," from West Germanic *stap- "tread', from PIE root *stebh- "post, stem; to support, place firmly on". The notion is perhaps "a treading firmly on; a foothold." Figurative meaning "action which leads toward a result" is recorded from 1540s.
In the book, a fellow Ennet Recovery House resident offers Gately an analogy to help him deal with his doubt that prayer and AA-crafted internal dialogue will help him eventually drop the poison. The analogy? A Betty Crocker instant-cake mix. You follow the instructions and though you don’t really know the intricate details and chemistry of how the ingredients wind up turning into a cake in the end, you follow the instructions on the side of the box and can count on the fact that you’ll wind up with an edible cake as the end result.
ingredient (n.) early 15c., from Latin ingredientem "that which enters into" (a compound, recipe, etc.), p.p. of ingredi "go in, enter," from in- + gradi "to step, go."
You don’t necessarily have to have faith nor trust in that the steps will actually lead you to that ideal result, your dreamed-up destination or situation; all you have to do is start and follow the steps thoroughly, until one day you wake up sober, relaxed, and wondering how you ever doubted the process in the first place.
The last week has been a bit of a blur for me, as I’ve been mostly dealing with the logistics of moving - the paperwork. I handed in my resignation at work with a pretty heavy heart; I signed a sublet agreement with my friend Sam that marked a new chapter for the both of us; and yes, of course, I handed over that final October rent cheque.
 |
| Paper: One of the many ingredients of life. |
I realize from the very start of all this back in August, when I made my decision to move away, it’s been mostly an act of going through the motions. Namely, getting through paperwork and rewiring my brain to spin this into an adventure rather than an ordeal; a continuation of a journey rather than a departure.
My heart hasn’t always been in every step, but I go through with each one anyway, one at a time, because I know if I proceed and tick the to-do boxes despite my emotional setbacks, I’ll eventually board that plane. I'll eventually wake up in London eating cake and feeling pretty okay about the whole thing....right?
Only one way to find out, I guess... Onto the next step...
+This cheesy over-used thing that you've probably been thinking about all along and which gets to the brunt of what I'm trying to articulate in far fewer steps...(ha!)
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
- Lao Tzu
June 24, 2015
wake (n., v.) Reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest
Excuse the lack of punctuation etc in this entry as I am curentlz typing ona tinz foreign keyboard, where the punctuation marks are hidden in super/subscript, require multi-digit ctr-alt-function-whatever motions and manz kezs have been swapped (mhm),semicolon,, I have little patience (at the cost of you, my limited audience, I know) - but if i were to stop and correct, i would do so at the expense of slowing down an insurgence of thoughts that come in the wake of my experience with a combination of things ill share with you below.
I had another lucid dream a few nights ago, likelz brought on bz jetlag, mz waking at 4am, reading Infinite Jest for an hour or two before falling into a buzzed numbing of sleep where i continue being awake. it was a failed attempt at a luciditz with full control, but i retained enough awareness of the fact that it was a dream to struggle in it and not be able to give in to the story unravelling, couldnt fall into the trance and rest my mind with body. instead, i lay awake watchful.
Waking from such dreams, where i have not reallz been entirelz ,asleep, is a strange feeling. I recall these dreams as real happenings, zet they bear no ,real, consequence on my life, albeit the emotions thez carrz on through to me in mz fullz wakeful state.its tiring being awake.
I had another lucid dream a few nights ago, likelz brought on bz jetlag, mz waking at 4am, reading Infinite Jest for an hour or two before falling into a buzzed numbing of sleep where i continue being awake. it was a failed attempt at a luciditz with full control, but i retained enough awareness of the fact that it was a dream to struggle in it and not be able to give in to the story unravelling, couldnt fall into the trance and rest my mind with body. instead, i lay awake watchful.
Waking from such dreams, where i have not reallz been entirelz ,asleep, is a strange feeling. I recall these dreams as real happenings, zet they bear no ,real, consequence on my life, albeit the emotions thez carrz on through to me in mz fullz wakeful state.
wake (v.) "to become awake," a Middle English merger of Old English wacan "to become awake, arise, be born, originate," and Old English wacian "to be or remain awake," (Gothic wakan "to watch", from root *weg- "to be strong, be lively" (cognates: Sanskrit vajayati "drives on;" Latin vigil "watchful, awake," vigere "be lively, thrive"), Middle Dutch wachten "to watch, guard;" Meaning "a sitting up at night with a corpse" is attested from early 15c.
- >Its tiring staying awake, too.
“The true opponent, the enfolding boundary, is the player himself. Always and only the self out there, on court, to be met, fought, brought to the table to hammer out terms. The competing boy on the net’s other side: he is not the foe: he is more the partner in the dance. He is the what is the word excuse or occasion for meeting the self. As you are his occasion. Tennis’s beauty’s infinite roots are self-competitive. You compete with your own limits to transcend the self in imagination and execution. Disappear inside the game: break through limits: transcend: improve: win. Which is why tennis is an essentially tragic enterprise, to improve and grow as a serious junior, with ambitions. You seek to vanquish and transcend the limited self whose limits make the game possible in the first place. It is tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens of the human State: the animating limits are within, to be killed and mourned, over and over again.”
- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
(or. the "endless war against the self you cannot live without.")
But we battle on I guess. the words of a dear friend, JS, brought me some consolation this morning.
The most i can do is yes, narrate it, leave words in my wake and let my enduring internal dialogue turn to script so that i can document my state as i live, wherever it is i find myself on the spectrum of sleep and wakefulness. thoughts gett lost but those that survive remind me that the onlz thing real to me is my voice, mz abilitz to attach expressions to these insurmountable ideas, anchor them in this space and in this time, and continue that effortless struggle to reason myself into motivation enough to continue, to change, grow, do, something as an alternative to a crippling confusion , tickling uncertainty, an infinite jest that without the dream would otherwise leave only room for a laughter, maddenning and unsatisfying in nature. and thats one thing i dare not relinquish: my sense of humour.In ten, twenty years or even next week we’ll look back on right now and think that what followed was inevitable. Don’t forget the uncertainty and unpredictability of today and how you are fighting for every decision, every accomplishment, and every outcome. We’re all surfing on the edge of an ever advancing reality and it’s easy to forget that even when life seems the same what comes next is always new and every minute forward must be earned, lived, and will ultimately be left in your wake for yourself and others to recall and narrate.
humour (n.) Middle English: via Old French from Latin humor ‘moisture’, from humere, humid. The original sense was ‘bodily fluid’ (surviving in aqueous humour and vitreous humour ); it was used specifically for any of the cardinal humours, wence ‘mental disposition’ was thought to be caused by their relative proportions, to determine state of mind. This led to a sense of "mood, temporary state of mind" (first recorded 1520s);p.s. im still not going to copzedit this entrz. it makes the madness - or humour - more convincing. You decide.
June 17, 2015
performance (n.)
This past weekend marked two milestones for me:
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
These two events had me performing in two very different
capacities; though differently uncomfortable about each, I was still equally uncomfortable about both.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
I'd like to think that any amount of "failure" would be worth it if it meant having no regrets; knowing I tried my best, of course, requires trying it in the first place.
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
performance (n.): late 15c., "accomplishment" (of something), from perform + -ance. Meaning "a thing performed" is from 1590s; that of "a public entertainment" is from 1709.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
 |
| It's not all about the performance. It's more about performing - period. |
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
accomplish (v.) from Old French acompliss-, lengthened stem of acomplir, based on Latin ad- + complere ‘to complete.’
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
show up (v.) 1826, "to disgrace through exposure," see show (v.) + up (adv.). Meaning "to put in an appearance, be present" is from 1888.It took almost the length of a human lifetime for the definition to evolve from disgracing someone by exposing them, to willingly exposing oneself. I say: Don't wait your whole life to try something new and scary. Expose yourself to those fears and challenges, do your best, and come into the light.
June 5, 2015
publishing (v., n.)
I came across an HBR article on marketing today that I saved long ago, and I realized it may be about time I blog about what I do; ya know, professionally. But I'm going to call it "publishing." Here's why:
publish (v.) mid-14c., "make publicly known, reveal, divulge, announce;" alteration of publicen (early 14c.) by influence of banish, finish, etc.; from Latin publicare "make public;" also "to disgrace, put to shame; denounce publicly." In Middle English the verb also meant "to populate; to multiply, breed" (late 14c.)The article's premise is that marketers need to think more like publishers and use content as a way to get the public's attention.
"Start by figuring out what you have to offer the world."
When I started my Masters at SFU, we talked about publishing being Dead; but we quickly realized it's actually ubiquitous, as the web has increased both supply and demand for content. The traditional publishing model has been disrupted as distribution channels have opened up. Publishers are having to relying more on digital media to cut costs or increase margins through advertising, and companies are increasingly putting money towards "content marketing" as a way to hook discerning consumers.
"If you expect people to listen to you, it’s best to have something meaningful to say."The increased democratization of publishing in the last five centuries, thanks to the same online tools marketers use, has put less power in the hands of the traditional publisher or "gatekeeper" and more onus on the consumer to determine what will surface to the top. Or at least, that's the idealist's view.
But there's far more business in it than art. Big players are stepping in to help readers navigate the vast amount of content out there, filtering out what they determine to be "good" from the "bad." They roll out algorithms to manage the floodgates - in exchange for information. These formulaic approaches for pushing good content up, (in search engines, for example,) rely on precedents set by the consumer - by popular vote, behaviour, pattern. In addition to this, companies like Google and Facebook, who hold onto vasts amount of content, have a heavy hand in determining what readers do find. (Think not just organic virality but PageRank, Open Graph and sponsored/paid content bidding wars.) What gets read, keeps getting read. Not terribly sophisticated of an observation, but eerily Catch 22-ey, if you ask me.
Marketers - and arguably, publishers, too - are taking note of this, are reading and cracking the markets (think: content strategy), to earn their spot - and if they can't earn it, they can afford to compete in the system by paying for it.
This isn't to say that there isn't valuable information being published. I just think we can't take those google results at face value or trust "top 10" lists as really an objective standard.
"Publishing can be a great way to build unique bonds, but there has to be a true value exchange rather than just a promotion."
But what do readers today value?
I would like to think maybe...their time? Yet we waste a lot of time reading crap.
Arguably, too many of us consume our content like fast-food America: On the cheap, and on the go. We're often not willing to do the work (grazing the surface of headlines and feeds); yet, we expect to have the best body.
I would like to think maybe...their time? Yet we waste a lot of time reading crap.
Arguably, too many of us consume our content like fast-food America: On the cheap, and on the go. We're often not willing to do the work (grazing the surface of headlines and feeds); yet, we expect to have the best body.
Publishers (contributors, gatekeepers, bloggers, content marketers, call them what you will,) know this and they've figured out our vices. But it's important that consumers realize all of this, too.
We should try and understand the business motivations that influence what content makes its way into our feeds and why (and what we give up in exchange for reading). Right now, our votes are getting counted on priced-out impressions - the value of our eyeballs, our attention. We can't always control which content finds its way to us or who benefits from it, but we should realize that we always have the power to vote with what we choose to read and engage with. Otherwise, we may never get to see the content that will more fully satiate and nourish our intellects because we'll be too busy snacking on 2-cent candy (really, that's pretty much what a paid impression costs these days).
February 20, 2015
mediocrity (n.)
mediocrity (n.): early 15c., "moderation; intermediate state or amount," from Middle French médiocrité and directly from Latin mediocritatem, "a middle state, middling condition, medium," from mediocris. Neutral at first; disparaging sense began to predominate from late 16c.
Since when did living "in the middle" become a bad thing? Apparently since the 1690s. Discussing dreams and goals with a friend today found me identifying the tension between achieving and dreaming big. Both of us have set goals over and over and reached them relatively smoothly, finding ourselves time and time again at that "peak" that disappointingly feels rather...mediocre. I thought we'd be gasping for oxygen up here; rather, I'm gasping at how underwhelming achievement can be. Can we reach for more? Are we not dreaming big enough? "It must not be such a big deal then, if I could get here or do it," said more than one person, I'm sure.
And with each achievement building our confidence and ambition, is a dream only big enough when you fail?
For as long as I can remember, I've made writing an important aspect in my life. I wrote my first poem in grade one (it was about the moon, and it rhymed) and I read it aloud and received (what I believed was honest) applause. I kept it up, though over the years, more private.
 |
| From a 2004 journal entry. |
And while my writing style has (I hope) evolved from angst-ridden and self-indulgent, towards witty, critical, nostalgic and cynical, (informed by the years of the grand ol' experience that is a human life, years piled like those countless stacks of my "vocation",) I realize now more than ever that I've done a pretty good job of being a mediocre writer. Or perhaps (if there is a difference), a very mediocre job at being a great writer.
Is that so bad? Have I found a middle way - of doing something I really love in the periphery of other things I kinda also love? Or am I not dreaming big enough to give this something a bigger, less mediocre, attempt..?
How extreme, disruptive, challenging - perhaps impossible- must one's pursuit be to make Mariana's Trench into Everest?
And why does it seem more appealing to proclaim to the world, "I wrote this between Delhi and Dubrovnik when I couchsurfed" than it is to say, "I wrote this during my evening commute between Arbutus and Fraser after my 9-to-5."
Like right now.
p.s. Before the tinge of disparagement crept in, another name for the "Golden Mean" was golden mediocrity. Let's think about that one.
July 20, 2014
travel (n., v.)
I know it to be foolish to attempt to share my recent travel experience in a blog post. Even speaking to my friends about some of what I encountered in India has been difficult, as words don't do the experience justice, merely scraping the surface of something very...thick. Photos fail as complete aids too, as they only capture a single layer of a stupefyingly complex sensory experience.
I've travelled many a place in my short life (I counted 5 countries within the last year alone) but this was the first time that I got a glimpse of travel as "travail" - a difficult journey.
Originally, any form of "travel" (in the Middle Ages, whence the word originated) was found to be difficult, labourious, hence the etymology. But over the centuries, travel as we have come to know it has become easier - less about necessity and transportation and more about choice and place. We travel to find respite from the everyday, in an aim to encounter something new. It's beyond the experience of the journey of getting to a place and more about being at the destination itself.
It's about what starts upon arrival.
For the first time in my life, this wasn't entirely the case for me. My departure for India started weeks before I found myself in any close proximity to an airplane. And my arrival and experience while there has extended far beyond the time when I returned to Canadian soil.
I went into it with a head full of facts, of "don't do's" and "avoid that's," of cautionary tales and reminders - all realistic and justified but also barriers to a full experience. So, as with any travel (or at least the kind I prefer and gravitate to), I committed to going in with an open heart. I wrapped my head around expectations and assumptions, and then tried to let go.
I tried to train myself to be aware, tough, and cautious while also trusting, warm, and conscientious so that I could hit the streets, enter dark places, speak to people and be a participant and not a mere observer. I wanted to build my understanding of India from scratch, which is why it's been difficult to convey fully.
Following heart rather than head discouraged me from yielding to fear, so that I could feed my curiosities and connect with the place and actually feel it. Years of traveling and generally aiming to be open to new experiences in everyday life, has helped me hone not just my inner voice but my inner ear as well. I truly got to test that intuition and approach in India. And it was hard work.
I let my heart lead, and supported by my stomach, that gut feeling, I became more confident in listening to my intuition and not just my reason, which was often guided by cultural shock and fear and awkwardness.
Daily, my senses were inundated with a myriad of impossible happenings occurring all in a relatively small, but very real, space.
(I have a distinct memory of a colourfully clad woman with a sack of something that looked pretty heavy on her head, holding two babies in one arm, her other hand busied with manouvering her sari to cover her mouth as she stepped into a cloud of vapour and mist. My eyes followed her steps as she merged into an intersection where she was met by a speeding rickshaw that missed her hip by a few inches, a surprisingly fast-moving cement roller with an elderly half-naked turbaned man crouching at its wheel, his knees jutted out by his ears, and below her at her bare feet, a deformed young man struggling to move himself forward on a small wooden cart. She squeezed by a black, bony cow obliviously dawdling next to her, miraculously avoiding the dung and burning garbage (read: open flames) on the unpaved ground. Accompany this short four-second frame with a cacophony of honks, horns, bells, and incomprehensible human and animal voices, and a heavy humidity in the air that carries dozens of odours and fragrances that stick to your skin and sting your eyes, and you'll still have a vague understanding.)
In the regions I visited of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh, and particularly in the city markets (Kinari in Agra, for example, from which I drew the above sequence) it was hard not to gape in awe, with eyes, tongue, ears, nostrils, fingers, all ready to take in the scene in all its various forms. But I had to consciously remind myself to open my heart.
Amidst the hodgepodge of machinery and limbs, noise, colours and smells and mire, I searched for opportunity when most everything seemed to teem with risk (whether serious danger or the potential of contracting the dreaded "delhi belly"). With effort, the initial miasma of Indian life, of that traffic, poverty, and filth (garbage in all four states) transformed into a kind of magical show, though: A medley of unlikely occurrences and dense bits of experience that came together making me believe there was no single other possible way this place could be. In the villages and smaller towns, this remained to be true; it just came in smaller, though equally concentrated, doses.
It was hard work, remaining cautious without being paranoid; my eyes darted about seeking eye contact without the lens of a viewfinder. I aggressively bartered through offers (a true Yugo, I am!), but modestly accepted puja offerings (pretended to taste and swallow the sweet sticky mess). I wove conversations but knew when to untangle myself and respectfully bid goodbye; I removed my shoes along with my prejudices; and thanks to my heart, I discovered similarities in a place that could not have been more unfamiliar or uncomfortable to me.
A land of contrasts. I salivated between wafts of indescribably disgusting odours, laughed heartily with people amidst an unbearable presence of stark hardships, shuddered at fifty degrees, and sometimes, just didn't know what to feel except present.
India, despite its initial hard exterior, was an incredibly inviting, pleasant, even at times, relaxing, place. In the presence of a lot of misery, I found a lot of joy, celebration, and kindness - the kind you find everywhere where there is human life. Even the notoriously aggressive touts when approached the right way, with respect, backbone and warmth, reciprocated, dropping their greedy guise to offer a smile and a joke.
It wasn't easy to arrive at this kind of India; it took a certain effort and altering of attitude to step up, open up, and enter. But I expected this, and prepared myself for it. What I didn't foresee was the difficulty that I'd experience in not just getting there or being there, but in coming home.
I'm still in a bit of a dream-like state since I returned. Looking around me, I'm peering through haze, but a different kind now. It's not one seen as easily as the one that so persistently hovered in the Indian air (the weather app for Delhi usually read "haze" and on one occasion even "smoke").
I'd like to think I'm thinking clearly, especially given the space I now have to reflect on my travels - this clean, quiet Vancouver of squeaky glass, even pavement and picturesque scenery and greenery. Returning to an orderly life, where everything is so void of..distractions..with nothing vying for my attention but the dreaded iPhone notifications I succumb to is more difficult than I thought.
Staying put, a travail of its own...
I've travelled many a place in my short life (I counted 5 countries within the last year alone) but this was the first time that I got a glimpse of travel as "travail" - a difficult journey.
Originally, any form of "travel" (in the Middle Ages, whence the word originated) was found to be difficult, labourious, hence the etymology. But over the centuries, travel as we have come to know it has become easier - less about necessity and transportation and more about choice and place. We travel to find respite from the everyday, in an aim to encounter something new. It's beyond the experience of the journey of getting to a place and more about being at the destination itself.
It's about what starts upon arrival.
For the first time in my life, this wasn't entirely the case for me. My departure for India started weeks before I found myself in any close proximity to an airplane. And my arrival and experience while there has extended far beyond the time when I returned to Canadian soil.
I went into it with a head full of facts, of "don't do's" and "avoid that's," of cautionary tales and reminders - all realistic and justified but also barriers to a full experience. So, as with any travel (or at least the kind I prefer and gravitate to), I committed to going in with an open heart. I wrapped my head around expectations and assumptions, and then tried to let go.
I tried to train myself to be aware, tough, and cautious while also trusting, warm, and conscientious so that I could hit the streets, enter dark places, speak to people and be a participant and not a mere observer. I wanted to build my understanding of India from scratch, which is why it's been difficult to convey fully.
Following heart rather than head discouraged me from yielding to fear, so that I could feed my curiosities and connect with the place and actually feel it. Years of traveling and generally aiming to be open to new experiences in everyday life, has helped me hone not just my inner voice but my inner ear as well. I truly got to test that intuition and approach in India. And it was hard work.
I let my heart lead, and supported by my stomach, that gut feeling, I became more confident in listening to my intuition and not just my reason, which was often guided by cultural shock and fear and awkwardness.
Daily, my senses were inundated with a myriad of impossible happenings occurring all in a relatively small, but very real, space.
(I have a distinct memory of a colourfully clad woman with a sack of something that looked pretty heavy on her head, holding two babies in one arm, her other hand busied with manouvering her sari to cover her mouth as she stepped into a cloud of vapour and mist. My eyes followed her steps as she merged into an intersection where she was met by a speeding rickshaw that missed her hip by a few inches, a surprisingly fast-moving cement roller with an elderly half-naked turbaned man crouching at its wheel, his knees jutted out by his ears, and below her at her bare feet, a deformed young man struggling to move himself forward on a small wooden cart. She squeezed by a black, bony cow obliviously dawdling next to her, miraculously avoiding the dung and burning garbage (read: open flames) on the unpaved ground. Accompany this short four-second frame with a cacophony of honks, horns, bells, and incomprehensible human and animal voices, and a heavy humidity in the air that carries dozens of odours and fragrances that stick to your skin and sting your eyes, and you'll still have a vague understanding.)
In the regions I visited of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh, and particularly in the city markets (Kinari in Agra, for example, from which I drew the above sequence) it was hard not to gape in awe, with eyes, tongue, ears, nostrils, fingers, all ready to take in the scene in all its various forms. But I had to consciously remind myself to open my heart.
Amidst the hodgepodge of machinery and limbs, noise, colours and smells and mire, I searched for opportunity when most everything seemed to teem with risk (whether serious danger or the potential of contracting the dreaded "delhi belly"). With effort, the initial miasma of Indian life, of that traffic, poverty, and filth (garbage in all four states) transformed into a kind of magical show, though: A medley of unlikely occurrences and dense bits of experience that came together making me believe there was no single other possible way this place could be. In the villages and smaller towns, this remained to be true; it just came in smaller, though equally concentrated, doses.
It was hard work, remaining cautious without being paranoid; my eyes darted about seeking eye contact without the lens of a viewfinder. I aggressively bartered through offers (a true Yugo, I am!), but modestly accepted puja offerings (pretended to taste and swallow the sweet sticky mess). I wove conversations but knew when to untangle myself and respectfully bid goodbye; I removed my shoes along with my prejudices; and thanks to my heart, I discovered similarities in a place that could not have been more unfamiliar or uncomfortable to me.
A land of contrasts. I salivated between wafts of indescribably disgusting odours, laughed heartily with people amidst an unbearable presence of stark hardships, shuddered at fifty degrees, and sometimes, just didn't know what to feel except present.
India, despite its initial hard exterior, was an incredibly inviting, pleasant, even at times, relaxing, place. In the presence of a lot of misery, I found a lot of joy, celebration, and kindness - the kind you find everywhere where there is human life. Even the notoriously aggressive touts when approached the right way, with respect, backbone and warmth, reciprocated, dropping their greedy guise to offer a smile and a joke.
It wasn't easy to arrive at this kind of India; it took a certain effort and altering of attitude to step up, open up, and enter. But I expected this, and prepared myself for it. What I didn't foresee was the difficulty that I'd experience in not just getting there or being there, but in coming home.
I'm still in a bit of a dream-like state since I returned. Looking around me, I'm peering through haze, but a different kind now. It's not one seen as easily as the one that so persistently hovered in the Indian air (the weather app for Delhi usually read "haze" and on one occasion even "smoke").
I'd like to think I'm thinking clearly, especially given the space I now have to reflect on my travels - this clean, quiet Vancouver of squeaky glass, even pavement and picturesque scenery and greenery. Returning to an orderly life, where everything is so void of..distractions..with nothing vying for my attention but the dreaded iPhone notifications I succumb to is more difficult than I thought.
Staying put, a travail of its own...
 |
| More pics from my trip here... |
May 19, 2014
work out (v.)
I figured it's as good a time as any to unload a blog entry on the topic of "working out." Though I did venture out onto the seawall after a 4-week hiatus and rocked a 10K, which I'm feeling pretty good about, (the knee injury is long behind me), the reason I write this has nothing to do with exercise. It just seemed to stick out as an idea whilst trying to "work out" what just happened: I finally caught up with How I Met Your Mother and am trying to cope with the final episode.
While pretty disappointed with the writing of the finale, I won't linger on the details - character development, pacing, blah blah blah; I will say however, that I think there were some things to be learned - at least I hope. Otherwise, what was the point? (My general perspective on life..)
So, accepting the challenge to learn something from this otherwise frustrating HIMYM finale, and urging you to forget that it's after 2am right now (when nothing good happens...), some takeaways:
1. Even when stuff doesn't work out, it works out
2. With the condition that you actually aren't afraid of working hard on getting what you need or want
3. Unless that thing you're working on is outside of your control.
We can work on changing ourselves, slowly working out the kinks; but there are just things in this world that we can't do anything about except observe, step away from, and move on. And when we do that, well, things work out.*
Agree? Disagree? Meh, I don't actually care to discuss. I refuse to give this TV show enough credit to warrant any more philosophizing.
G'nite!
*Quote Reinhold_Niebuhr here.
While pretty disappointed with the writing of the finale, I won't linger on the details - character development, pacing, blah blah blah; I will say however, that I think there were some things to be learned - at least I hope. Otherwise, what was the point? (My general perspective on life..)
So, accepting the challenge to learn something from this otherwise frustrating HIMYM finale, and urging you to forget that it's after 2am right now (when nothing good happens...), some takeaways:
1. Even when stuff doesn't work out, it works out
2. With the condition that you actually aren't afraid of working hard on getting what you need or want
3. Unless that thing you're working on is outside of your control.
We can work on changing ourselves, slowly working out the kinks; but there are just things in this world that we can't do anything about except observe, step away from, and move on. And when we do that, well, things work out.*
Agree? Disagree? Meh, I don't actually care to discuss. I refuse to give this TV show enough credit to warrant any more philosophizing.
G'nite!
*Quote Reinhold_Niebuhr here.
April 4, 2013
profundities (n., pl.)
Today's word was inspired by #IABCwisdom - I came away with so many nuggets of inspiration from last night's IABC/BC event, that I just couldn't help reiterate some of them here - to help them settle, absorb.
In fact, I even refused to enter this term in its singular form - I realized that enlightening moments breed more enlightening moments; I realized that revelations and new understandings rarely come in ones. Profundities travel in a pack. And when they hit us, they inject positive proactive energy - the kind that opens us to experiencing even more profundities!
The "If I Knew Then" event featured 10 communications pros who shared their insights on what they learned through the course of their careers - the mistakes and accomplishments, the lessons, the inspirations and motivations, and generally, the many "profundities" they gathered along the way that were worthwhile sharing with the rest of us as we embark on our own career paths (or trails, or bushwhacking adventures).
Here are some of my most memorable takeaways, in tweets:
Of course, the funny contradiction to the event was that in hindsight, knowing now what you knew then wouldn't have made it possible for you to experience the crucial moments that afforded you the opportunities to gain the insights you did in the first place. Get it? Who cares.
These enlightening experiences give us the energy to really get to the fund (Latin: bottom) of the matter, the truth, so that we can live better, do better, be better - so that we ourselves can make profound impact on the world and ourselves.
The point is this: I utterly advise you to take any and all eureka! moments and ensure they be followed by actions. Profundities amassed move us; but they quickly fade unless their true applicable meaning is harnessed to spring us to transform, change, move forward (or back), decide, go, move, shift.
Rather than regret.
So go do it! Open yourself up to your coworkers, to change, to working hard, to adventures, to being honest with yourself, to being the YOUest you that you can be.
Profundities abound!
In fact, I even refused to enter this term in its singular form - I realized that enlightening moments breed more enlightening moments; I realized that revelations and new understandings rarely come in ones. Profundities travel in a pack. And when they hit us, they inject positive proactive energy - the kind that opens us to experiencing even more profundities!
The "If I Knew Then" event featured 10 communications pros who shared their insights on what they learned through the course of their careers - the mistakes and accomplishments, the lessons, the inspirations and motivations, and generally, the many "profundities" they gathered along the way that were worthwhile sharing with the rest of us as we embark on our own career paths (or trails, or bushwhacking adventures).
Here are some of my most memorable takeaways, in tweets:
MT @lindsayhindle: "The relationships you create are the foundation of your workplace" - Mary Fraser of @lululemon #iabcwisdom
— Visnja Milidragovic (@vishmili) April 4, 2013
"I stood my ground. And nothing bad happened." -@kjrox100 #IABCwisdom
— Visnja Milidragovic (@vishmili) April 4, 2013
Regard your career as an adventure & it will be one. Own the highs & lows. And look for opps to..[dramatic pause] contribute. #IABCwisdom
— Visnja Milidragovic (@vishmili) April 4, 2013
Treat your job like its your own business-John Almond. #IABCwisdom
— Danielle Wolff (@DanielleKWolff) April 4, 2013
"When things are at their best it's often the best time to make a change." This lets you make changes on your own terms. #IABCwisdom
— Visnja Milidragovic (@vishmili) April 4, 2013
Open yourself up and become more compassionate. #transparency much more part of the 'ad biz' than ever before. -@dellasdeck #IABCwisdom
— Visnja Milidragovic (@vishmili) April 4, 2013
@julessiu @mo_mobilize Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You. :-) #iabcwisdom
— Anne In Van (@AnneinVan) April 4, 2013
Of course, the funny contradiction to the event was that in hindsight, knowing now what you knew then wouldn't have made it possible for you to experience the crucial moments that afforded you the opportunities to gain the insights you did in the first place. Get it? Who cares.
These enlightening experiences give us the energy to really get to the fund (Latin: bottom) of the matter, the truth, so that we can live better, do better, be better - so that we ourselves can make profound impact on the world and ourselves.
The point is this: I utterly advise you to take any and all eureka! moments and ensure they be followed by actions. Profundities amassed move us; but they quickly fade unless their true applicable meaning is harnessed to spring us to transform, change, move forward (or back), decide, go, move, shift.
Rather than regret.
So go do it! Open yourself up to your coworkers, to change, to working hard, to adventures, to being honest with yourself, to being the YOUest you that you can be.
Profundities abound!
March 7, 2013
saving (v.)
It's been exactly one week since I finally dredged up the mature will inside to bring myself to the bank, seek out an investment specialist, and open up my first RRSP account. I tied up my hard-earned money and dropped it into this ephemeral file where if all things go as planned, I won't be able to touch it until...
I'm 71 years old
or I buy a house.
It's made me feel really young all of a sudden - but also kind of old, because I'm officially "saving for retirement."
This really has got me thinking about saving - and not in the sense of putting money away for a rainy day (or for when you're old and dreary), but rather, the act of saving in general - the notion that we often "save it for later", postpone it, whether for good or for bad.
But there is reason to this madness. It makes sense to look onward into the horizon of our lives and prepare for times ahead. Saving pennies for when the clouds amass; saving the last bite to indulge in later; saving our special dishes for the perfect occasion. It's a way to "ensure" (or is it "insure") what the future will bring, feel a sense of control over our experience in the face of time. And there's nothing wrong with that.
And what can be said of saving things for the sake of keeping them around... to remind us the past?
And where do retirement savings fit in when it comes to all of this? Will I one day pull my gazillions of dollars of savings (optimistic) and thank myself, just as I hoped or planned? Or regret that I hadn't spent it on something already? When I'm grey-haired and wrinkly, will my savings make me sigh in relief because of the security they will bring, or will my savings carry baggage from the past, memories of saving up a small fortune for my future ungrateful self?
What is worth saving and what is it being saved for? An interesting consideration for mortal beings such as we.
Which reminds me of one of my favourite quotes:
I'm 71 years old
or I buy a house.
It's made me feel really young all of a sudden - but also kind of old, because I'm officially "saving for retirement."
This really has got me thinking about saving - and not in the sense of putting money away for a rainy day (or for when you're old and dreary), but rather, the act of saving in general - the notion that we often "save it for later", postpone it, whether for good or for bad.
But there is reason to this madness. It makes sense to look onward into the horizon of our lives and prepare for times ahead. Saving pennies for when the clouds amass; saving the last bite to indulge in later; saving our special dishes for the perfect occasion. It's a way to "ensure" (or is it "insure") what the future will bring, feel a sense of control over our experience in the face of time. And there's nothing wrong with that.
And what can be said of saving things for the sake of keeping them around... to remind us the past?
And where do retirement savings fit in when it comes to all of this? Will I one day pull my gazillions of dollars of savings (optimistic) and thank myself, just as I hoped or planned? Or regret that I hadn't spent it on something already? When I'm grey-haired and wrinkly, will my savings make me sigh in relief because of the security they will bring, or will my savings carry baggage from the past, memories of saving up a small fortune for my future ungrateful self?
What is worth saving and what is it being saved for? An interesting consideration for mortal beings such as we.
Which reminds me of one of my favourite quotes:
“For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.”
― Carl Sagan
February 24, 2013
rest (v.)
We all know what rest feels like - from times of catching the flu, or being sleepy, fatigued, or just plain lazy.
However, an interesting aspect of rest - as it is defined in physics - is rest as it refers to an object that is in a stationary state in relation to another object: "When the position of something with respect to its surroundings does not change with time it is said to be at rest," says Wikipedia.
On resting the body:
Over the last couple of weeks, my 40-hr work week, 8-hr/week commute on the bus, and sometimes restless sleep has caught up with me. My poor immune system that's successfully warded off every bug on this planet for the last year and a half finally gave up. I got sick. I then needed to become "stationary" in respect to my status quo self - the me that goes to work and functions effectively in the outside world; in other words, I needed to rest - my body.
However, how do we integrate rest into our everyday lives when we're not sick - when our mind needs rest, rather than our body?
On resting the mind - even when you're moving:
For me, often the best rest comes from the kinds of activities that resemble the complete opposite of lounging in sick-mode on the couch with a How I Met Your Mother marathon in the background. I can't seem to let go and "forget about the rest of it" and just relax. It's precisely the rest of everything - the obligations, the fun, the events, the adventures - that my mind needs most in order to really relax.
It's the work week that slowly builds up and tires my mind. Work challenges, long hours, lots of thinking, stress; these slowly wear on the mind and once the weekend comes along, my mind needs, well, a rest. However, my mind can't sit on the couch.
So, if my mind is to rest - i.e. find a "stationary" mode in relation to its state when it's in overdrive, working and thinking hard and being productive - it needs to find an opposite state.
What I've found is that it's possible to train your brain to derive rest from all sorts of activities - even ones that many of us may not think of as being necessarily restful. I've found rest in climbing a mountain; it's also enveloped me in the middle of chaturanga in yoga class. I find it frequently as I wander through grocery aisles picking up groceries for the week. And sometimes, my mind gets a great rest from the same activities as my body - when I cut myself off from the rest of the world and let go and embrace the rest of my body.
The key, I think, is in not obligating yourself to limit what rest can be. Instead, see it as something relative that depends on the world around you and where you are within it.
Perhaps you're a walking virus receptacle overhauled by a sinus headache that just needs to sleep; or perhaps you're a ball of fun that just needs to bounce somewhere new because the rhythm of the routine is deflating you; or maybe you just want to curl up somewhere and eat a bowl of chili and let the world pass you by. It doesn't matter - you'll find your rest.
Just observe: Has the world just started moving a bit faster and you need to catch up? Or is it you that's slowing down? Figure out your state and then rest up until you can get moving again.
Rest up, y'all!
However, an interesting aspect of rest - as it is defined in physics - is rest as it refers to an object that is in a stationary state in relation to another object: "When the position of something with respect to its surroundings does not change with time it is said to be at rest," says Wikipedia.
On resting the body:
Over the last couple of weeks, my 40-hr work week, 8-hr/week commute on the bus, and sometimes restless sleep has caught up with me. My poor immune system that's successfully warded off every bug on this planet for the last year and a half finally gave up. I got sick. I then needed to become "stationary" in respect to my status quo self - the me that goes to work and functions effectively in the outside world; in other words, I needed to rest - my body.
However, how do we integrate rest into our everyday lives when we're not sick - when our mind needs rest, rather than our body?
On resting the mind - even when you're moving:
For me, often the best rest comes from the kinds of activities that resemble the complete opposite of lounging in sick-mode on the couch with a How I Met Your Mother marathon in the background. I can't seem to let go and "forget about the rest of it" and just relax. It's precisely the rest of everything - the obligations, the fun, the events, the adventures - that my mind needs most in order to really relax.
It's the work week that slowly builds up and tires my mind. Work challenges, long hours, lots of thinking, stress; these slowly wear on the mind and once the weekend comes along, my mind needs, well, a rest. However, my mind can't sit on the couch.
So, if my mind is to rest - i.e. find a "stationary" mode in relation to its state when it's in overdrive, working and thinking hard and being productive - it needs to find an opposite state.
What I've found is that it's possible to train your brain to derive rest from all sorts of activities - even ones that many of us may not think of as being necessarily restful. I've found rest in climbing a mountain; it's also enveloped me in the middle of chaturanga in yoga class. I find it frequently as I wander through grocery aisles picking up groceries for the week. And sometimes, my mind gets a great rest from the same activities as my body - when I cut myself off from the rest of the world and let go and embrace the rest of my body.
The key, I think, is in not obligating yourself to limit what rest can be. Instead, see it as something relative that depends on the world around you and where you are within it.
Perhaps you're a walking virus receptacle overhauled by a sinus headache that just needs to sleep; or perhaps you're a ball of fun that just needs to bounce somewhere new because the rhythm of the routine is deflating you; or maybe you just want to curl up somewhere and eat a bowl of chili and let the world pass you by. It doesn't matter - you'll find your rest.
Just observe: Has the world just started moving a bit faster and you need to catch up? Or is it you that's slowing down? Figure out your state and then rest up until you can get moving again.
Rest up, y'all!
September 4, 2012
design (n.)
I've spent some time navigating design files, designing logos and creating marketing materials for my job. Daily, however, I'm also exposed to design in a different way - a more holistic approach to design perhaps - the design that informs and guides our behaviour.
I've long been thinking about this sort of thing. For months I've observed my own reactions to various asanas in yoga class, which are very much a result of how I'm feeling about other things rather than the postures themselves. Every class, the teacher tells us to breathe through these "difficult" moments, these places of tension, rather than around them.
I've indulged in the convenient thinking that it's important to face challenges like difficult yoga poses dead on without being distracted by what else is going outside them. On certain days, I'll sweat through the difficulty without really observing what my breath is really all about, how it guides my thoughts about my movements and reactions, and how the challenge itself is really something I perceive as difficult rather than something that actually is physically challenging. It's often more of a mental block than a physical one.
This all leads me to a general inspiration I've had lately, to look for the design behind the seemingly obvious, immediate, and simple. With a dose of compassion and a willingness to see more than what just appears in front of us, I think we can really better our lives and ourselves - and hence, those around us. If I'm finding a certain pose challenging, that I generally think should be easy, it may be a result of something else - extra stress I'm dealing with, a lack of sleep or food, my mind wandering off elsewhere because something is keeping me from focusing on the pose.... once I become aware of these things, expectations seem to fall away and the challenge becomes easier to face and breathe through.
There is a design around us, embedded deep, and the more we observe it and try to understand it, the better we'll be able to live with difficult factors and variables. In fact, I think that every challenge is an opportunity to test yourself, as it is a reminder that the design is there - that by listening to it, you'll strive for unity with it - and so even the ugliest and most difficult things in life will align with your rhythm and you'll better embrace them.
(Can you tell I've been reading The Alchemist - which has completely validated a lot of my "listen to the universe" philosophies.)
I've long been thinking about this sort of thing. For months I've observed my own reactions to various asanas in yoga class, which are very much a result of how I'm feeling about other things rather than the postures themselves. Every class, the teacher tells us to breathe through these "difficult" moments, these places of tension, rather than around them.I've indulged in the convenient thinking that it's important to face challenges like difficult yoga poses dead on without being distracted by what else is going outside them. On certain days, I'll sweat through the difficulty without really observing what my breath is really all about, how it guides my thoughts about my movements and reactions, and how the challenge itself is really something I perceive as difficult rather than something that actually is physically challenging. It's often more of a mental block than a physical one.
This all leads me to a general inspiration I've had lately, to look for the design behind the seemingly obvious, immediate, and simple. With a dose of compassion and a willingness to see more than what just appears in front of us, I think we can really better our lives and ourselves - and hence, those around us. If I'm finding a certain pose challenging, that I generally think should be easy, it may be a result of something else - extra stress I'm dealing with, a lack of sleep or food, my mind wandering off elsewhere because something is keeping me from focusing on the pose.... once I become aware of these things, expectations seem to fall away and the challenge becomes easier to face and breathe through.
There is a design around us, embedded deep, and the more we observe it and try to understand it, the better we'll be able to live with difficult factors and variables. In fact, I think that every challenge is an opportunity to test yourself, as it is a reminder that the design is there - that by listening to it, you'll strive for unity with it - and so even the ugliest and most difficult things in life will align with your rhythm and you'll better embrace them.
(Can you tell I've been reading The Alchemist - which has completely validated a lot of my "listen to the universe" philosophies.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)