SMALL PEOPLE

Every now and then I babysit my friend two-years old. She is a great toddler to babysit because she is as calm and careful as her parents. Very sensitive, doesn‘t raise her voice and even when she does, it sounds just like a small bird making noises to catch attention on the nest of a top of the tree. I have been surrounded by kids all my life. I was only five when I became an aunt to my sister‘s son. I have memories playing with him and us being babysat together. I enjoyed playing with guns and building ships out of legos. Never did I feel that he was five years younger than me, but kids probably barely do. The only category where people fall for them is simple- are playable or not. 

It was on a Friday night when I offered myself to come and babysit again. They went to eat at some new restaurant and to the movies afterwards, when I was drawing colourful portraits of different animals at home with her. She wasn‘t much interested in it after a short time had passed, but I was keen to keep going. I kept using her colours when she was simply dressing and undressing her doll next to me at least seven times. My friend warned me before leaving that her sleeping schedule has been really off recently as she was sick and that she has been sleeping on her bed for the last two weeks with her. That is admirable because my friend is over one-eighty tall. 

„Don‘t worry too much if you struggle putting her to bed. Just watch something on Disney Plus and I‘ll do it when we get back,“ she said. 

There is no better fuel for me when challenging my capabilities. The more complicated the task is for others, the higher is my desire to accomplish. 
„I‘ll figure it out, you guys go and enjoy yourself,“ I told them as I sent them out of the house. As the time turned eight o’clock, I went to look for her toothbrush from the cabinet in the bathroom and squeezed a pea-size amount of toothpaste on it. After I asked her to open her mouth to access her teeth, she quickly ate it, leaving the toothbrush clean and untouched. I only remembered then how my sister used to spread the toothpaste evenly all over the brush for me, so I was unable to eat the sweet toothpaste without needing to brush. I did it like this for years to come, even after being a teenager. I promised to make a note to myself for the next time I am babysitting a small human again- always spread the toothpaste evenly on the brush. 

After changing her clothes- what were more covered with paint than milk what she had before, as she is a careful kid as mentioned before. But art is supposed to be dirty so from my shy opinion, this two-year old has already some perspectives of things sorted out- I asked her to lay on her back once she crawled on her bed. I took the cold blanket and lifted it high up, letting it land naturally all over her. I used to love it when my mother did that to me. She giggles. After skipping the bedtime story part and doing my best theatrical performance with the two stuffed animals I found on her bed, I kiss her goodnight and leave the bedroom, hoping that it will be as easy as that. That I have some sort of a superpower of doing complicated things- talk myself into places where I don‘t belong and put kids to bed who don‘t want to sleep. As I step out, my sense of being overly confident raises the minute I close the door. I am only able to sit down and read a page or two of my book and grab a piece of Brie from the kitchen, when I decide to give up on her bird-like crying noises.
I go in and sit next to her bed, placing my hand over her small face and starting to stroke her forehead as she catches her breath back. The first strokes are faster, as she is still struggling to find her breath. I simply follow the pace of her own heartbeat with my finger, stroking up and down, up and down. Soon her breathing calms down completely and she is starting to noticeably fall asleep. As I sit next to that small pink bed, only then I realise that it‘s the same as if I was running my fingers on his dark hair last night, feeling his pumping heart through his chest next to my naked body as we were laying in bed.

„Your heart beats so fast,“ I remember whispering. He mumbled as an agreement. I placed my hand on his head, starting to softly stroke it. I felt his pulsating chest on my skin, hot and sweaty, as his heart started to get its natural rhythm back, breathing noticeably slower as I continue stroking his head.

„Do you mind me staying over?“ he asked after he was breathing quietly and he fell asleep in my arms, our naked bodies wrapped around each other. 

He, too, was playable. 

THE POWER OF SCENT

Perfumes are not personalised, but they are personal. They are items that are still often overlooked without the knowledge of what power stands inside of the small spray bottles that we use so automatically, without even thinking how we are being presented after two or three sprays on our skin later. One can receive a different treatment when scented good, just as people can form their behaviours towards another person based on how one is dressed. There is a chapter in “Little Prince” published as early as in 1943 where Exupéry tells a story of a scientist presenting the same idea two year apart, when wearing two different outfits- once dressed as a clown, second time dressed in a three-piece suit. Nobody believed him at first, but the second time everyone thought that he was smart and had found something very valuable. Considering the psychology of the audience, the topic and the environment, as stupid as it is and I am definitely not agreeing here, that this should be the norm, but underestimating the power of presence- visible or invisible- can give us a head-start without actually doing much.
It is important to think about what leans us towards some people- what do one finds attractive, trustworthy or sexy. The people who one admires are often very specific and have a very strong, rather rare character- and so do scents. Perfume is a mirror to someone’s character and it is the less obvious, less styled one. 

I like to see perfumes as personalities.

I often find myself struggling when trying to explain it- the beauty and importance of a scent. A bottle of perfume is often treated as something to use as a type of coverage or to create a layer of something over our skin and dressing, that is often not mindful. It is treated as something how we are expected to wear or expected to smell like- we put on our carefully chosen clothes that represent our personalities but then spray on a scent that someone either has gifted us or we purchased last time at the airport when flying somewhere. We tend not to think about how we smell (as long as it’s scented at least), nor what is a “good” scent and how we wanna be seen with the way how we smell.
Therefore, it’s not that we smell differently, but we simply just don’t use the same terminology for explaining. Vocabulary really structures one’s thoughts. To have the right vocabulary to describe something, one is more available to talk about the subject. Art history, I believe, is a very good example of that, such as when you take a person to a museum who doesn't know about the paintings. We see the same things but after ten minutes they are exhausted. Because they don’t know when those things were made, neither how or where. They don’t know the painters nor the history. Only when you have a topic related vocabulary, one starts to understand the depth of a subject and feels not only more comfortable to navigate, but also gains a deeper understanding of it.

As said, scent can say a lot about one's personality. Different people wear different kinds of perfume. But we often don’t realise how much we are saying- or not saying- when we don’t understand the power of a scent. As one learns about the invisible language, one starts to understand a form in society that he or she wasn't aware of before.
Some perfumes say “this is how I smell when I undress”, some perfumes say “I am clean, perfect and sophisticated”, some say “I am shy, romantic and sweet”. Each perfume carries a form of character, a power of seduction that becomes complete when worn by a person in a correct environment. It’s often that people are very good at finding the perfume that suits them, but not what compliments them. There are simple and complex scents, but often great perfumes are specific and worn by very specific people.

When I meet a person, there are two things I automatically do. I first quickly try to catch their overall atmosphere: I look into their eyes to find some sort of discomfort- or comfort and read their body language. But secondly I try to catch what they smell like. What I try to read out of their scent is the same way society would translate how one is dressed. One can choose clothes in a very conscious way because of the awareness, based on how different dressing can be seen in different environments. It’s likely that if one wears a suit, one wishes to be presented as professional, neat, maybe wealthy, someone with authority. It’s just common sense, and most of the time one is doing it when being very conscious of the choice. But because of being aware of those social codes, one has the power to bluff. They can manipulate. One can choose to dress differently- or appropriately- based on the social situation to what is being dressed for. We have the freedom to be seen as more sophisiticated, sexy or even stupid, if this is what we choose for. We can choose to be seen as the opposite or more empowered of what we are. We can make statements.
But when people choose a perfume, they are usually not that clever. Most people around us choose perfume because they think it’s right. In that sense because most people still nowadays don’t bluff with perfume, it is quite revealing. It is either carefully picked or not, but either way it says a lot.

The more I think of a person, the more complex of a perfume I choose to introduce myself to them. The people who arouse me, are almost always undeniably intelligent and my hope and belief in that, makes me always choose a perfume that is complex. Not to confuse them but simply because the level of their intelligence makes me believe that they will understand.
Sometimes when I want somebody to like me, not because of me but because of themselves, I wear a scent as a reflection of the person. As if I go to a meeting where I don’t wanna be particularly clever but rather just get a “yes” to my proposal, I make sure they will like me instead of being intimidated by me. It’s easy to be liked on a simple level. It’s as if you are changing your ripped jeans into trousers when going to meet the parents of your new partner for the first time.
When I want to lead, want to present my ideas and convince others that I know what I am talking about, I wear something that smells as confident and strong as myself in front of them. The scent is picked as carefully as the design of the presentation or the choice of words to describe it.
When I really like a man, I put on a perfume that lingers on their nose after I am gone. Not because I particularly want them to think of me, but because the heavy, soothing patchouli in that scent will give them more information about me than they can catch with words or actions. I use perfume to seduce.

I use perfume to manipulate.

ABOUT VULNERABILITY

To understand vulnerability, one has to define it first. At least I needed to break it into as many parts as I humanely could, without going crazy. As many people, I was raised (or I raised myself) to hide my emotions and feelings, because acting emotionally towards some feeling or situation, were often titled and seen as something shameful and weak. And the last thing I wanted to prove or to be shown to anybody, was to be seen as weak. The need of being smarter and emotionally more unbreakable, was important to me. I was sure that if I don´t get emotionally attached to anybody (in my case, my lack of vulnerability was only practiced on relationships), I remain independent and avoid getting hurt. And not only avoiding getting hurt but also avoiding experiencing joy, care and love as well. 

Vulnerability is therefore anything but being weak. In fact, it is quite opposite to that and I have no idea where we went wrong, that in society it has become as something, what is seen as weakness. Being vulnerable is being brave and having courage to show up as your authentic, true self with the risk of getting emotionally hurt. But it is being sure (or maybe not but doing it anyway) that whatever may happen after the exposure, that you will be okay. Being vulnerable is the truest form of being you. It is taking a risk, having a courage to expose yourself emotionally and doing that as essential need to stay and be healthy in your own environment. To allow yourself to feel and experience everything fully. Living full-heartly. That yes, saying “I think I like you” first is scary and turns our inside upside-down, but it is necessary to say and do so. To take the risk that it may be responded or betrayed. And that is a huge emotional risk to take. It would be so much easier not to put yourself into that situation at all. But that’s what we call comfort zone and an area where everything is neutral. And here we should ask ourselves is that something we are happy with? One cannot experience life fully, when one is not exposed to it entirely. 

There are few different types on vulnerability- Human/social, Physical, Economic and Environmental. Vulnerability can be applied in different situations, but the act as itself, is almost always the same. It is exposing yourself and being okay with it, trusting the outcome, whatever it may be. Being okay with it comes from a place of being comfortable of being with yourself. Believing that being vulnerable is essential for your own personal well-being and even if it will not be received as desired, that you will be okay. Because the alternative of not following your true self, would be worse. I believe that when doing so, we are being dishonest to ourselves and to the people around us. Vulnerability creates connections, because any other way you keep people (in that case… in my case) armlength’s away from you. And it can be scary. So scary. I am bloody terrified of it myself. But that’s okay. Remember that if it excites and scares you at the same time- this is how bravery feels like. This is courage what you are applying in your life and hopefully going after something, you desire. Because it matters and it is important to you. And if something matters to you, it is worth going after for it. Because what matters to you is a reflection of yourself and those things matter. That make you, you. Remember that our actions and the people around us who we care about, define us a lot. Our surroundings are our reflections.

I think that the main reason why so many of us struggle with it, is the fear of shame and getting our ego hurt. Fear of being seen as stupid and well, again, weak. And those emotions are often treated as something, what should be erased quickly. When something is not pleasant, we try to get rid of them immediately. But there are so many things to learn, when we are being exposed to discomfort. Nobody says that it’s nice, but it helps us to grow as people. I believe it makes us empathetic and makes us understand situations and others from different perspectives. Helps us to relate with others because we understand what they may go through. Being vulnerable helps us to feel less alone. 

But individual situations are often not seen as the act of vulnerability- we often receive it and act on the situation itself, instead of seeing it from that perspective. We are too busy often thinking what we are going reply that we forgot to listen. I want to believe that if we would all learn how to be more vulnerable and also how to react to vulnerability, we would all create a healthier environment for everyone to find and remain their authentic self. Shame cannot survive kindness. If we reply to someone’s worry, emotion or a feeling with an understanding and kindness, when being vulnerable ourselves and without shaming them of feeling in some certain way, our vulnerability grows stronger, and shame gets weaker. 

Little to say that it is important to accept and express what we are feeling. Having the courage to say when we feel hurt by someone’s mistreatment against us or putting ourselves out there and saying “I think I have feelings for you” first. It is to stay honest with yourself and growing stronger of knowing that we need to be continuously practicing it. We need to stop looking for perfection because often it is some idealised idea of something what serves very little authenticity. 

I would never believe myself saying that and as well agreeing with it to some part, but- life is messy. And as a person who doesn’t like anything messy and lives for lists and trying to organise everything, I realised quickly that all that I am ever trying to do is to push everything into some sort of form, what naturally doesn’t sit there. Especially when it comes to relationships and to the dynamics with other people. And just as we cannot put people into some boxes or desired forms, we cannot do that with ourselves. We grow and involve as we live and the best way to control anything, is to stay true to yourself and to be just a little bit more vulnerable each day. To be excited and little bit scared at the same time. To feel every inch of your body. To feel alive. To feel ourselves. To simply feel everything and honour it.

At least this is what I am trying to do slowly every day, exposing myself to emotional discomfort and allowing myself to care about people with an open heart. This is all very new to me.

wonders from daily life

I never meant to stay in Reykjavik as long as I have been staying now. I was always on my way out of here since the end of summer last year, yet it never worked out. When I got here, I was only travelling with my backpack, bringing only my favourite, but rather less, clothes with me. It was only for 2 months. I packed it and thought it out really well- what fits with what and how could I use one piece of clothing more than one way. I tried to be clever. One book, one pair of boots, one jumper. In three months, it’s been a year since I arrived. At first, I was fighting with the idea- I was supposed to live my life in Scotland as that was always meant to be this 4-year chapter in my life. Not less, not more- I wasn’t interested. I like to think my life through, as much as one possibly can, of course. There is a lot on uncertainty in it and maybe that’s what makes it all so interesting. There is this mutual calmness in both- knowing the plan and knowing that there is no plan. Either experience can bring a different joy, when you learn to let go, knowing that only than you can enjoy the next moment when leading it.
I remember wondering myself what is this all about. I believe to my core that life happens (mostly; from where to where it isn’t, is another argue) because of a reason and the bigger is the situation, the more important is the reasoning. I tend not to worry too much, if things don’t go as planned- I always have the trust that I will sort it all out, as time goes by. I don’t know have I figured it out now- me being back in Reykjavik unplanned- but I surely do have a better sense of why this all was important. One could say that about everything, of course, but maybe this is what it is all about. We have religions and human psychology to balance it out, yet there is still this amount of unknown what nobody can describe, explain or say it with certainty. So, for me, that unknown is this belief that everything happens for a reason between all those things what actually is explainable with logic. Maybe it is just a way to feel safer and calmer in this rather alone world.

I am sitting on my living room sofa; the cold late winter air is coming in from the open window as I am reading Frank O’Hara and smoking a cigarette. I don’t smoke, but for years now, I have always had a tobacco in my house, just as I always have a bottle of wine or whisky. I never know when I may feel like a cigarette, nor I don’t know when I might have someone over, to who I could offer one. And every now and then I offer myself one. I smell the fresh, sweet vanilla but floral scent of the tobacco and from somewhere, the smell of dark chocolate surrounds me. I smoke the cigarette slowly; I like to take my time just as I like to kiss or sip my glass of wine slowly. Smelling it, tasting it. Acknowledging that if that cigarette brings me any closer to any of my deaths, as titled on top of the tobacco package, I better be aware of the act itself.

Put out your hand,
isn't there
             an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed?  And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn't
                  you like the eggs a little

different today?
                And when they arrive they are
just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather
is holding.

O’Hara writes simply (one could argue with that statement), yet just complex enough. (This is not an argue between which is better: simple or complex. Light or dark. Small or big.) I find his compositions easy to follow, not to belittle his creativity anyhow, once again. His ideas are big, but his words are not heavy. There is some lightness in them. It almost feels like he is aware of how intelligent he is and that’s why he doesn’t need to prove himself with big words. After all, it seems that it is not without a reason why the history tells stories that ‘his personality became famous before he did’. I have always admired people whose charm moves quicker than themselves. He was in love to a young ballet dancer who inspired most of his best poems. He also uses a word “orange” a lot in his poetry and yet I cannot help myself thinking was he inspired, either positively or negatively, nor neither, of the colour or the fruit. If colour, it is rather unusual, I find, especially considering the fact that he wasn’t writing from some Mediterranean country where oranges and other citruses just lay around, but instead from New York. Orange is an unusual colour (but less unusual fruit). People just don’t walk around wearing an orange shirt or orange shoes or orange bag. One barely ever thinks about the colour orange as a preferred choice. But it seems that Vincent loved orange and maybe that’s why he did too. And suddenly all his poems what weren’t, at least not obviously, about Vincent, are still about him. 

I suddenly feel like I have grown up. That it has been too long when I have been circling around the same loop where I have nothing new to learn. I always like to believe that I still have, one always have, yet it seems that all I can learn from it by now on, is proving myself what I already know. Suddenly this millennial way of caring doesn’t seem attempting anymore; where people become too busy to care and hide their vulnerability behind something what is self-centred. And since when did I became too scared of letting somebody to care about me. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you have to. Even if you cook the best scrambled eggs you have ever eaten, it is nice to let somebody else to cook them for you once in a while. 

Few days ago, I had a Zoom call with my psychologist. We meet and talk every now and then for the past three years already. She is fantastic and I don’t know anything about her. She says that I am smart, young woman with an ability to analyse and that’s why she believes that I may know more about her than someone who knows the facts what one considers as the ‘information to know somebody’. I think she might be right.
On that early Thursday morning as I sip my third cup of coffee already, I told her that after all those 60-minutes turning the last three years I have spent with her, I am still struggling of getting over of myself and of the idea that I need to do everything by myself. That the same sense of independency with what I have created everything I am proud of, is the same what is keeps me away from the things I now desire.
And it seems that before I can plant myself into others, I, for once again, need to go back to myself. And this is not another self-discovery journey or some sort of spiritual evoking. This is now all about trusting people enough to let them close, not just keeping them armlengths away. Therefore, I have always enjoyed a journey to self and I find some comfort from the idea that whatever needs to be improved is in me, because trying to make someone else to understand or feel something, seems always more work than teaching something new to yourself. 

I suddenly realise that the scent of dark chocolate hasn’t gone away. My cigarette is long gone, and it is not the scent of musk and vanilla on my skin or some fresh florals in the air. I open the news and I realise that meanwhile when I have been sitting on my sofa, reading about O’Hara writing about things what are orange, the land where I am on, have finally erupted. Everything feels so fragile yet so powerful at the same time. And maybe that’s the point. The strength that one should look up to, should come from a vulnerable place. 

EST: ARMASTUSEST

Ma ei ole päris kindel, miks ma otsustasin selle postituse oma peas eesti keeles kirjutada, aga ilmselt ehk seepärast, et selles keeles sain ma oma esimesed õpetused armastusest. Kes oleks üldse osanud arvata, et armastust tuleb või saab õppida ja kui oluline on selle nägemine ja tundmine, et kasvada inimeseks, kes on võimeline nii tervelt, kui võimalik, armastama. Armastame me vist ju kõik, aga usun, et viisid ja moodused selleks on erinevad ja erinevused tulevad sellest, millist armastust me oleme varem kogenud ja mis sellest kaasa võtnud. Mind on jäänud saatma selline lause enda elus, et:

“Me aksepteerime seda armastust, mida me arvame, et me väärime.” / “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

See lause võtab minu arvates kokku väga hästi paljugi mõtteid, mis minu endagi peas on. Mitte, et ma armastusest liiga palju tean. Ma tean vaid seda, et see on miski, millega ma olen kõige rohkem võidelnud ja vaeva näinud, samas midagi, mille järgi ma olen pea kogu enda teadliku elu janunenud. Ma ei tea, kas armastuses on olemas õigeid ja valesi variante, aga usun, et on kindlasti olemas isiklikud eelistused ja selle väite vastu ei vaidle vast keegi. Millegi pärast on aga alati eksisteerinud mingisugune häbi armastuse ees. Minu teooria on, et see tuleb mingisugustest eelarvamustest selle ees, mida me arvame, et armastus peaks olema. See, mis ta peaks olema, on ilmselt omakorda tulenenud sellest armastusest, mida me oleme kasvades näinud enda ümber.

Kasvades ise suuremaks inimeseks, sain alles hiljuti aru, et minu arusaam romantilisest armastusest on üsnagi katki või puudulik. Alguses oli ta hirm, siis nõrkus. Armastada enda perekond(i) ja sõpru on lihtne. Armastada kaaslast oli aga suure osa minu täiskasvanu elu jooksul aga nõrkus. Rohkem kui armastuse kohta, õppisin ma aga töö kohta kasvades üles selleks inimeseks, kes ma olen. Mentaliteedid on olnud minu senise elu kahes eluperioodis väga erinevad, aga töö on mänginud minu elus alati võtmerolli ning selle kohta olen ma nii midagi õppinud, mille üle ma olen väga tänulik. Selle, kuidas iseendaga ise hakkama saada, olin ma ilmselt 23-eluaastaks tugevalt omandanud. Lausa nii, et enne kui ma enda praegusesse suhtesse läksin, pidin ma paluma tal mind oodata, sest enda seinade maha toksimine võttis rohkem kui paar nädalat aega. Armastus ei olnud midagi, mida uksest avasüli sisse lasta. Ja see ei olnud hirmus nendel põhjustel, mida meile filmid telekakas näitavad. See oli hirmus, sest mina ei teadnud kuidas romantiliselt armastada ning mis veelgi olulisem- kuidas lasta ennast armastada. Sest ma olen ise saanud iseenda armastamisega väga hästi hakkama.

Ma ei tea, kas armastust saab defineerida, aga ma arvan, et teda saab enda jaoks lahti mõelda, sest armastus ise on siiruviirulisem kui sibul. Kasvades üles tugevas töömentaliteedis, aitas see mind ühel hetkel lahti mõtestada ka armastust. Õpi uusi oskusi läbi olemasolevate, eksole. Usun ma seda, et armastus on lõppematu töö. Aksepteerides armastust, on aksepteerida täiskohaga töö. Töö, kuhu sa pead lõppematult panustama, kasvama ja kasvatama, võtma ja andma. Vahe on selles, et see töö, mida sa aksepteerid, on see unistuste töö, mida sa teeksid ka siis, kui sa selle eest midagi vastu ei saaks. Kirg, hobi, a r m a s t u s millegi vastu, mis paneb sind seda tegema isegi siis, kui sa midagi vastu ei saa. (See on mind tänaseks päevaks muide ka õpetanud aru saama, mis on oluline ja mis mitte, mis tugevusi ja omadusi endas süvendada kõikide oma teiste huvide ja hobide kõrvalt). Armastus on töö, kus ei saa kunagi töö otsa. See on otsekui midagi, mida sa mitte kunagi täielikult ei omanda, sest nagu ühes väga head töökohaski, on alati ruumi kasvamiseks. Alati on ruumi juurde õppimiseks, rohkem aja panustamiseks, rohkem selle tegemiseks. Aru saada, kas sa armastad kedagi veel või piisavalt, on mõelda, kas sa teeksid seda ka siis, kui sa ei saaks selle eest otsekui midagi vastu (sel puhul, kas sa suudaksid armastada ka vastuarmastuseta? mis on halb diil muidugi aga küsimus-vastus situatsioon on olemas). Kas sa oled valmis töötama selle nimel lisatunde une arvelt (minema sinna peole kuhu sa minna ei taha, aga sinu kaaslase jaoks on see oluline või istuda peale pikka päeva veel üks tund üleval, et partneriga klaas veini juua ja juttu rääkida.) Kas sa oled valmis uusi oskusi omandama või täiesti enda mugavustsoonist välja minema, et toetada enda eesmärki, sest enamus asju, mida sa teeksid, on suure tõenäosusega ajutised, mitte igavesed. Nad lihtsalt toetavad millegi suurema kasvamist erinevatel perioodidel.

Armastuses mugavusstooni langemine on otsekui leppida töökohaga, kuhu sa väga minna enam ei taha, aga ta toob sulle piisavalt raha sisse, et ära elada. Kui armastus ei anna sulle enam midagi rohkem juurde kui seda, et päevast päeva ‘okeilt’ ära elada ja ta ei inspireeri ega motiveeri sind enam rohkemat tegema, on ilmselt aeg peeglisse vaadata. See ei tähenda ilmtingimata selle kohest jätmist, vaid eelkõige küsimist, kus on probleem ja kuidas seda muuta. Tihti tulenevad sellised probleemid meie enda mõttemaastike muutumisest, mis tähendab, et sellistes situatsioonides peaksime me iseendaga maha istuma ja prioriteedid ja eesmärgid uuesti üle vaatama. See on sama, mida peaksid tegema ka siis, kui töö, mida sa teed, ei anna sulle enam juurde, vaid jätab sind kas neutraalseks või võtab üldse midagi hoopis ära. Lisaks sellele ta võtab su 24-tunnist päevas märkimisväärse osa ja niimoodi ‘raiskab’ ära ka suure osa sinu elust, aga tihti on inimesed liiga mugavad, et muutusi teha. Või meid ei ole õpetatud rohkemat soovima. Ja see ei ole ahnus ega egoism millest ma räägin, vaid eneseteadlik olemine- teada mida sa väärid, milleks sa suuteline oled ja mida enda väärtusliku ajaga teed või ei tee. Nii klišeeliselt kui see ei kõla, aga unistuste elu on olemas, sest me ise kirjutame ja elame enda unistuste elu. Seda, et seda aga ka saavutada, tuleb teha tööd. Aga see on võimalik. Ja kindlasti ei tundu see nii kõik päevad, sest teadagi ei ole päevad vennad. Aga see peaks tunduma nii vähemalt enamik päevadest. Suur osa enamik päevadest.

Seega, armastusi on erinevaid, kuigi nad kannavad kõik ühte ja sama eesmärki. Seda, millist armastust me aksepteerime, on tihti peegelpilt meist iseendast. Otsides armastust erinevatest inimestest, võib tihti olla seos ka otsida iseennast. Mitte, et ma usun, et ennast saab teises inimeses leida ja ma ei ole isegi selle tervislikkuses kindel, kuid kui meie armastuse mina-pilt on terve, võib teises inimeses leitud armastus olla väga inspireeriv, motiveeriv ja eluterve. Sedasorti armastus, mis paneb meid tahtma olla parem versioon iseendast ja mitte seda teise inimese, vaid enda ja teie pärast. Armastus on töö, kuhu sa ei tohiks kunagi lõpetada panustamist. Seda praktiseerides ja igapäevaselt töötades, omandame me kindlasti oskused, kus ennast enesekindlalt ja mugavalt tunda, kuid sinna ei tohiks pikalt pidama jääda. Ükski anne ei ole kunagi perfektsuseni omandatud. Ja kui on, on olemas selle kõrval terve hulk teisi andeid, mis toetavad juba omandatud.
Ja mõnikord on mõni töökoht end ära elanud, nii nagu mõni suhegi. Ja see on okei, kui see on aitanud meid kasvada ja omandada uusi oskusi tulevasteks suheteks. Usun, et on oluline aru saada, millal midagi on enda aja ära elanud, on aeg edasi liikuda.

The importance is to understand not with what we can live, but without we can’t.

Armastus on põnev. See on otsekui midagi, mis on otsekui meiega kaasa sündinud ja keegi kunagi ei mõtle sellele, et võib-olla me peaksime sellest natukene rohkem rääkima, üksteiselt õppima või iseennast analüüsima ja enda vajadustest ja ootustest aru saama. Meie kõikide lood on muidugi erinevad, aga minu jaoks oli pikka aega enne armastusse laskumist, sellele eeltöö tegemine. Natukene nagu koolis õppimine ja paberi kätte saamine ja alles siis kogemuse omandamine. Teistmoodi ma lihtsalt ei osanud. Ehk on tööga armastuse võrdlemine veidi järsk, kuid minu jaoks ei ole tänasel päeval ‘töö’ midagi negatiivset, vaid pigem miski, mis teeb enamikel päevadel minust minu, sest ma teen ja töötan iga päev selle nimel, et kasvada inimeseks, kelleks ma saada tahan. Usun, et sama soovi ja eesmärgi peaksime me seadma endale ka armasatuses. Julgema soovida midagi rohkemat. Ja seejuures olema ise valmis selle nimel ka tööd tegema. Et alguses ise ollagi rohkem. Armastus…