Category Archives: Inspiration

On Validating Self

by

I’ve always loved me some drama. Where most people, after a long and busy day, prefer to chill in front of the TV with a romantic comedy, I prefer to chill with a crime investigation. Anything goes – CSI, Prime Suspect, Law & Order – so long as there is dead people, and you don’t know who they were made dead by. I am rather positive that somewhere deep inside me there lies dormant a brilliant homicide detective, whose awakening is not destined to happen seeing how even bugs scare me s***less, let alone cold sharp blades or bullets. So I satisfy my mystery craving in theory, not practice. Wire In The Blood is an old British series, where this socially inept weirdo of a clinical psychologist, Tony Hill, assists the police with the most brutal serial murder investigations. In every episode you watch him unravel the psyche of the killer as he analyzes the crime scenes and the MOs. Hmmm, serial psychopaths… It doesn’t get better than that, especially when the psychologist is portrayed by Robson Green, who is so sexy I just about cried myself to sleep when I first discovered him, I swear; I heart the guy:

Anyhow, there is this one episode in the series, which opens with Tony saying to an unknown young fella:

Eventually, you get to a point in life when there is nothing left to prove… And you find there is nothing left.

I didn’t find out until a bit later that they are both sitting at a roof edge and the young man is about to commit suicide, because this line literally electrified me into hitting Pause. I needed to mull it over…

Those of you who have been with me on this blog from the start know that it attempted to serve a number of different purposes at one time or other. Now I don’t think it has any particular purpose other than just being, just writing, about all the many things life is made of – all this dirty mess of emotion and reason in which I, one day, hope to find the answer to the one question that’s always bothered me most – Why am I here? When I was younger and a lot more of a drama queen, I used to wonder about the meaning of Life in general, on behalf of the entire human population. Well, you learn a thing or two on the go, and I know by now I won’t ever be able to answer that one, so I scaled it down to just me. Makes me less anxious, knowing the entire human population isn’t waiting on my feedback any time soon. So now I’m just looking to work out a good reason for me occupying this space on Earth and all kinds of triggers send my mind a-wandering.

How many years of our lives, do you reckon, on average, are spent in efforts to prove something? How often do people persist in doing things that do not bring them joy just because someone couldn’t accept them as they were? A recent conversation with Ms. Feisty comes to mind. I spoke here of just one of her battles, but that was, quite frankly, the tip of the iceberg. There are also tensions between her and members of her extended family. Thing is, her aunts and uncles labeled her as ‘useless’ ever since primary school. Her grades were never good so they collectively decided she was dumb. Never mind the fact that Chinese educational system is inflexible, at its best, and nobody ever bothered to explore the child’s aptitudes and passions… She grew into a young woman, who is, most definitely, smart. The ‘useless’ label taught her independence, she says she figured out very early on that she has to fight for herself, which is great, strength of character is important, and being self-reliant is an advantage these days. But I know her, and I can see she is angry. At lunch the other day, she went “One day they will know. I’ll make them see, I’ll prove them they were wrong.” Now, I sometimes debate how far I should go in these discussions. She always wants to know my perspective, really really listens, and, perhaps most dangerously of all, takes it a step or two further by drawing her own conclusions. I find it entirely fascinating – it’s almost as though China and I are in this non-stop dialogue about the meaning of Life. But every so often I’ll think “Shit, maybe I should just drop it. Maybe she would be much better off not knowing me at all, content with the reality that surrounds her.” Well, guess it’s too late for that now…

I couldn’t contain myself and said: “Wait a second. I don’t get it. Are these people important to you?” No. “Do you see them in your future, playing a major part in your life?” No. “Then why are you wasting your energy trying to prove them something they in all likelihood will never understand anyway? If you want to do create something of your life, by all means, do it. But don’t do it for them. Do it for yourself. Because you want to.“

This is where it all comes together – Tony Hill, Ms. Feisty and I, and the proof. If you spend your life trying to prove the wrong thing to the wrong people, of course there won’t be nothing left. It’s not the proof that does the trick. We are not here to justify our existence to others. We are here to find what makes us tick – which isn’t an easy journey, but it is the only way to hit the jackpot at the end, when you draw your last breath thinking “Holy shit! This was one amazing ride!“

Well, at least I think that’s why I’m here. But that’s just me. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s a terrible tragedy ;)

Yearning for Less

by

I’ve caught a bug. The kind that makes you yearn.

In fact, I yearn so much lately that going about my everyday business now feels as though I am pulling a tractor all by myself. All of a sudden, I wish I could eject myself from my life, and place me instead flat-out on a white sheet, then leave me there, in peace and quiet. As peace and quiet slowly wrap themselves around me, I will, at long last, be revealed the meaning of life…

Well, who am I kidding, that’s never gonna happen. Snapping out of it now and back to slightly more comprehensible sentences.

I’ve caught the bug of minimalism.

While it is hard to say how many people are currently on this wavelength, it is becoming more and more obvious that our mind’s desires and ambitions are experiencing a major tectonic shift. Towards something a lot less tangible than our belongings – towards simplicity and freedom from the burden of stuff. Tyler Durden’s message has finally caught up with us and now makes perfect sense. Over here a casting director offers you money for quitting your job and selling your possessions to move to an island (if only I lived in the States, damn it!). Some people go as far as relieving themselves of the burden of $22,000,000. Truth. Read about it here.

We don’t want things. We want meaning and fulfillment instead. I personally think that’s mighty awesome! And mighty awesome is something I definitely want a slice of.

me humble stuff

I am moving into a new house this weekend. So far, I’ve spent @6 hours packing up @a third of my belongings. That totaled up to 7 boxes, a tennis racket and two bookshelves. It is easy to predict that finishing this up before the truck gets here will take me @10 more hours. That’s a total of 16 hours or roundabout (precious off work time, which I cherish) that I could spend reading or writing.

Having recently been following people like Joshua Millburn, Derek Sivers and Lindsey Fox, this time I questioned the logic of it all. I’m saying ‘this time’ because, well, hmmm, this is going to be my 8th house in Shanghai… I can’t explain why I do it so often, every time there seems to be a good reason to move, but I suspect the simple truth is just that I become restless in the absence of change. And every time I want a change, I have to do this packing and unpacking, and I’m no fan of that.

If only all of this stuff was somehow adding value to my life, I’d probably keep quiet. But where is the logic in owning enough cooking utensils to feed a Gypsy family or two, if need be, when I’m just one tiny single girl, who hardly ever cooks or eats at home for that matter? Do I play tennis? No. I love New York, but can I really not live without a poster of it from IKEA? I think I can. Full length mirror? I suspect looking down should be sufficient to determine whether my knees look fat in those pants.

Garage sale is in order. Whatever can’t be sold, I’ll give away.

I don’t own that much. I’ve lived in rented fully furnished apartments for the past five years and I’m moving into a model house which comes with everything including wine glasses. So I’m not going to pretend like this is some cosmic change that will shake me to my very core and affect my everyday routines. My story comes nowhere near this one, for instance. I don’t own a house. I did, but I sold it when I was 21 – the only property that I ever had in my name – took the money and moved to China. Some people thought I was out of my mind but I haven’t regretted it once. I wanted to come here and study, my family couldn’t financially support me, so I sold. Never looked back.

Compared to that, getting rid of some bookshelves is nothing. But then again, if I had the guts to sell a house at 21 and move to a country I knew nothing about, perhaps deep down I’ve always been a minimalist, free-floating citizen of the world…

We’ll see. For now, I just want to get rid of the extra weight, I want to feel light, always flexible, always ready for a change. And I’m starting with some shedding.

It will be fun to see what the past five years of my life turn out to be worth… I’ll keep you posted!


Dear Self: Seize Your Epiphanies, Won’t You?!

by

The first two weeks of 2012 have welcomed me with warmth and I am happy to have a number of excitements to look forward to this month. First off, I am about to partake in another New Year’s celebration. Living in China means I get to do that twice, ha! While I certainly am western and 2012 has already begun for me, I am more than delighted to go along with the Chinese in their rhythm: we don’t just get a corporate party, we get an all-out corporate feast. That’s scheduled for tomorrow and I confess I’ve spent a fair amount of time this week fantasizing about all the yum yum to be enjoyed Saturday night. Considerable amounts of money handed out in lucky draw make it that much better. So far, I’ve won every year! But I should probably stop talking about it lest I jinx it this time. Shush!

Soon as I stuff myself with all that yum and pocket all that cash, I’m off to attend to my second big thing of January – moving house. I have to admit to mixed feelings about that. I love my new place, it is absolutely stunning, but I do sort of wish I didn’t have to go through the manuals of actually making the move – the packing, the loading, the unloading and the unpacking. I secretly wait for the days when one can just close their eyes, open them and bam! all moved in! I don’t as of yet make enough to afford that luxury, hence tonight I found myself dragging one of my suitcases (which I keep at the office, just in case), empty, back to the house with the ambition to use it this Sunday to move part of my belongings.

Very puffy in my down jacket, Tibet boots and a mile-long scarf wrapped around half my face, I absent-mindedly approached the curb. I put my doughnut bag on top of my suitcase (I arrange doughnut Fridays at the office once in a while, and take the last one home as a bonus treat to meself for being such a good supervisor!) and ran a scan of the taxi grabbing competition. Fierce. As a side note, the Chinese don’t give a tiny rat’s bottom who was at the spot first, they’ll elbow their way into your cab, whether you kick, yell racial slurs or smoke starts coming out of your ears. I had nowhere to be, wasn’t hungry or cold, so I felt no urgent need to put up a fight. I decided to just stand there till they all dissipate and somebody drives up to me without me lifting my pinkie. I do get that lazy towards Fridays. Don’t judge.

Having made peace with my curb predicament, I zoned out – you know that mode when you tilt your head to the side and empty-stare into thin air just about drooling on your shoulder? Recent Newsweek tells me it is good and we all oughta be doing it:

Let your mind wander. A string of studies suggests that zoning out, especially when you don’t consciously realize you are doing it, allows the brain to work on important ‘big picture’ thinking.

When I came to, I thought:

– What a Goddamn waste of time! Standing on the curb, guarding a doughnut on top of an empty suitcase. You sa-a-ad little white girl…

Then somebody answered:

– Well, hold it. It’s only a waste of time if you allow it to be. Think about it. You have strings of minutes to go anywhere you want in your mind. Isn’t there a project you have been pondering as of late?

– Well, yeah… But…

– No ‘but’. Just think. Think of how you are going to build it. Time to get started. You’ve been an absent self long enough. 

I sure have. And that part about the project is also true. For now, I’ll just refer to it as WFD. It is an embryo and therefore needs nurturing, but my zone out session did bring about a few ideas on what I want it to look like once it is carried to term.

A cab. The driver pops the trunk and just sits there. I know my suitcase is empty, but an insult directed at him still flashes through my head – “Lazy-ass wacko.” That must be me getting hungry, on an empty stomach I’m worse than Hitler. No matter. I get into the cab and drive off thinking:

Now you are going to go home and you are going to write. No, you are not watching Desperate Housewives on Hulu. And you are not watching Ramsey and Pablo videos on Youtube. And you are definitely not working. You go and you write. Okay, maybe you eat first, but then…

Any minute spent anywhere is only wasted if you let it be…


Rejuvenating Powers of Solitary Confinement

by

Whether somebody gives up on you, or you yourself choose to walk, an ending never feels like a win-win situation. Even when the decision is your own, you will be hurting, questioning how right you were in your judgment. You may also feel like you have failed, like you have not done enough to make it work. Some times that may be the case, others you may just find it to be the best choice you have ever made. You only need to listen in on yourself to find out.

A little over a month ago I turned 27. My birthday was on a Saturday and nobody was with me. I spent the morning at a coffee house, reading. Followed it up with a generous treat from me to me – several hours of spa rituals - and, cocooned in lotiony oily blissful cloud, returned to my computer to Skype my parents. They prepared a feast, laid it all out on the table so I could see it and the three of us spent hours chatting, laughing, eating and drinking – well, virtually, but still… If it wasn’t for my Mother, I would likely end up hating that day for the lack of human beings in it. With just one sentence she made it okay – “You are a kind person, filled with light, and every day that I live I thank God for blessing us with you.” I must’ve done something right in this life, even if she is the only one on the planet that knows it…

I lick my wounds in solitude – temporary retreat is my way of recuperating, always has been and I suspect always will be. Those truly close to me know not to poke until I silently emerge from my cave, shake the dust off my shoulders and gently pat them on the arm.

Not this time. This time, I subjected myself to solitary confinement with no intention to resurface. Not as my old self.

Slamming the door into the face of your life as you know it is terrifying. Having no new life lined up exacerbates the panic. It’s like standing naked in the dark, at the edge of a cliff, staring into big fat Nothing. Regardless, I felt, very distinctly, that I would rather stay right there and shudder than go back to the false comfort of my ways.

If you stand in a place like that long enough and find it in you to look past the terror, you  may see a bridge, to the side you really want to be on. I think I am about to cross it, and quite honestly I can’t remember the last time I felt anything like this. It’s exhilarating. I feel like I just came off the assembly line, brand new.

The silence, the clarity – away from the cacophony of human clamor – they are priceless. And if you find yourself at a dead end, remember it’s never too late to admit that you’ve made a mistake. If what you walked out on is, in fact, your life, it will embrace you as you walk back.

The Mind is a Battlefield

by

And the most arduous one to navigate, too.

It may not be all that obvious (what with such scarce number of posts here) but I blog every waking hour of every day. Reason you don’t see it? My day job. Or maybe that’s a lie.

No, no, I am not about to launch into a rant, I wouldn’t dare. Truth be told, I’m positive I’m one of them lucky cookies – I enjoy what I get paid to do. What is it exactly, one might ask? Well, simply put, I make clothes. Not so simply put – my team develops knitwear collections for several clothing labels. We are a full-scale manufacturer with own production facilities, which means we take that very first sketch from the designer and over the course of several months turn it into finished product, loaded onto a container to be shipped far far away. I oversee the entire thing.

I love developing product – it is never repetitive or dull. Every day I learn something new. My biggest client is a luxury brand and working on their line brings me sheer joy – especially on those days when I see some of the final samples – the fruit of my team’s labor. Most of us, when we shop for clothes, we don’t give it much thought, we never question how much work went into creating that shirt or that pair of pants. An incredible amount of work. Even for the most basic of garments – behind every loop of yarn, every thread which you don’t even see, behind every button and every label – there are people who spent months thinking it through for you…

I am one of those people and I genuinely enjoy the process.

But even so, I can’t seem to shake off the feeling that I am not what I’m supposed to be.

There is this girl, trapped in my upstairs and this blog is on her mind always. It’s not that she is not happy creating beautiful things, it’s just that she feels she would be even happier creating beautiful reads. Her idea of a perfect day is so simple it’s almost cliché – watching the world, the people in it, drinking coffee, writing, reading, thinking. A lot. She loves to think.

I overrule her. Most days. Occasionally she thinks she is about to break through.

Enter demons.

I’m sure you know the kind. The kind that stems from all the things you think you should be, and you think you are not. They are your fears, your failures, your insecurities. There is so many of them. They overwhelm you with their yelling and finger-pointing.

“Oh come on! You are a nobody – who wants to know what you’ve got to say! What, you think you are smarter? Who says? Drop it, it’s not going to be interesting enough. You are not even funny when you write! People like funny and you can’t do it. Nobody cares. You are not going to change anything. You are quite lame, actually. Can’t even figure out your own life… And you want to go around telling people how to be happier in theirs! Well, that’s just pathetic!”

That’s it, I give up. I’m cornered, immobilized.

I end up not writing.

So I did open this post with a lie. It’s not my busy schedule that’s stopping me. It’s the demons. The demons that tell me that I’m not good enough…

***

A few days ago I was reminded that it can be otherwise. I do actually know it myself – know that I don’t need to listen to that bullshit. I’m no coo-coo here, I know those creatures aren’t real. Thing is, I forget that I know it sometimes. Even more so when I’m not feeling all that awesome. Well, duh!

So, who reminded me? You’ll be thanking me for this later - The Soulful Contrarian!

I am so moved by the author of this blog that I simply have to share, before you go see it for yourself.

In order to fully appreciate the work that Lindsey is doing, I recommend that you begin at the beginning – her first post – Enough! As you work your way through the essays, you will hopefully see what I saw – a beautiful person, who strives to live an authentic life. A person who is not claiming to be a know-it-all, but instead openly talks about her fears, her insecurities and her demons. She has made a commitment to her personal growth, her self-improvement, and she has made a commitment to honesty. What I was mostly touched by was her honesty. Not as the essence of The Truth Experiment she has embarked upon, but as the essence of her writing. It’s genuine, it’s very personal, it’s raw. She is afraid too, she is hurting too, but she insists it’s no reason to keep living a lie.

Throughout our lives, we all carry the burden of expectations. We assume people only want to see the perfect part of us and we shy away from exposing our struggles. Perhaps you are not like it, but I am. And it’s exhausting. Well, now I am inspired to quit. Quit listening to what the demons have to say, quit trying to be something I supposedly should. I am inspired to hold on to what makes me happy and stay true to what I hold dear. If it’s important to me, there is a good chance it is important to other people too.

From now on, it’s me pointing my finger right back at the demons, telling them to go to Hell.

The girl from my upstairs needs some air. You’ll be hearing from her…

The Tale of Jack Tripper. What You Can Learn From the Eyeless Cat.

by

To say I love animals is an understatement. Balanced people love them. I’ve never known myself balanced. I harbor immeasurable amounts of adoration for everybody fluffy, tiny and cute. I no longer notice how many times I stop on the sidewalk on my way to work to just be able to look at that tiny chihuahua, sporting a bumble bee outfit, a little while longer. I am one of the people who smile at every ball of fuzz coming by them, who have thousands of pictures in their phone to show you (not even necessarily of pets they own, mind you!), who think that animals are like babies (if not better!) – you know, the type balanced people find annoying. Well, to each his own. I never hold it against balanced people. They are kind too. They just haven’t been to that place where you hit rock bottom, your life is slipping away, and all you’ve got next to you is your dog, licking tears off your face, and you know the dog knows and is bleeding inside just as much as you are. People who’ve shared a moment like that with an animal won’t ever think I’ve got a screw loose for loving them too much.

Jack Tripper’s story caught my eye when I was browsing lovemeow.com, its full version can be found here. This is the little fella:

He was born this way and was adopted by amazing people who devoted their hearts to him and gave him a forever loving home. To me this story is beautiful and complete as is. But there is something else:

Jack is truly an inspiration. I’ve owned a lot of kittens in my life, but Jack is the happiest, most playful of them all. He doesn’t feel sorry for himself. Heck, for all he knows, all cats are just like him. People who know Jack don’t feel sorry for him. They cherish him for the treasure that he is. I have talked to a few people who haven’t met him personally who tend to pity him, but they just don’t understand. Jack doesn’t need pity.

Written by his owners, this paragraph alone speaks volumes – not of Jack, not of animals born with disabilities – but of us, humans.

Self-pity is truly something we invented, and boy, do we abuse every opportunity to indulge in it! Pardon me, but self-pity is ugly. It is especially ugly on healthy people, with means, with loved ones, with lives to live. It’s one of the many paradoxes of human nature I can’t fathom. Here we are – the most advanced, most powerful species in the universe – crippled by this defect. If only this gene could be eliminated from our DNA, our possibilities would know no boundaries. But no. We need reminders. We need someone to say “Hey, you’ve got a head, two arms, two legs. You’ve got food. You’ve got shelter. You’ve got someone that loves you. Quit stewing in your own goo for no good reason, get up and keep walking!”

Through various combinations of different circumstance at this or that point in my life, I am the person who speaks those words. Outloud, to other people. Unlike them, I somehow don’t need to hear somebody else say it. I say it to myself – right there, when the dog is licking tears off my face, right that moment. You wouldn’t believe, but it works!

My point is, next time you are about to slip into that cave, think of this picture of Jack – can you see the sun is kissing him?

Look up, it’s kissing you too!