I'm excited. In the not-too-distant future I will be moving abroad (life win!) and starting a new job, and I just can't wait. The thrill of the unknown combines with the prospect of starting afresh, being able to recolour my life any which way I please, sparking a shiver of anticipation at the thought... Giddy ideas ensue. What to do? Where to explore? Who to meet? What to buy, eat, drink, watch, hear, see? How to feel?
Going away to a new place always presents challenges and opportunities galore. Clearly, some element of planning is necessary to ensure a safe transition, yet the most fun is to be had in discovering the hidden gems that only its residents would know about, and meeting a local character or two. Certainly, I'm going to miss my old haunts and my day-to-day people - friends, family, familiar faces - but it'll be wonderful to find some new ones.
And (packing for) all this change nicely coincides with the gear of the 'new season' arriving in shops across the city. September's colours and heavier cloths remind us that autumn and then winter are on their way, that we should be thinking about the things to come, wrapping up warm, opting for scarves instead of shades. I'm not going to go down the Christmas route as I'm in favour of getting excited for that when the time is right (December, and not before!) - but there are always things to brighten up the post-summer darkening. For those with late-year birthdays, result! It's nearly your turn. For those without, there's always fireworks season, the joys of mulling (a warm cider or wine is always a fine treat on a nippy day), the colour of the canopies ready to drop, and subsequent crispy foliage ready and waiting to be stomped in or thrown about, the absolute joy that is a snow day (need I say more?), being able to justify hot chocolate to warm the cockles from the cold, a blazing fireside or candelit window, curling up in a blanket with a good book, even just giving the long-forgotten winter coat a new lease of life... Bring it, winter. We're ready and waiting.
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
Giving something back. Quid pro bono?
’Tis the season to be generous, fa la la la... Actually, I’m a firm believer of giving what you can when you can, and that charity comes around full circle. ‘Do unto others...,’ yadda yadda.
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!
For me, though, it's all about saying the unspoken thank yous, repaying the kindness shown over the years, both to you individually and to your world in general. It's about respecting the world we live in and all its people, and it's about looking out for those to come. It's about setting the best example possible for generations to come, and doing our best with what we've got. But this is starting to sound frightfully hippie, so let's just say we'll do what we can, and enjoy it regardless.
Monday, 20 August 2012
The Little People Know...
This is not, in fact, a reference to Les Mis (much as that is a wonderful work of musical theatre and deserves each and every homage paid). No, this piece bows down to the miraculous minds of the young, or at the very least, the young at heart.
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be!
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across...
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover?
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be!
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across...
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)