Domestic sabotage

My house is a constant reminder of life happening. I am talking about the kids’ ongoing running in and out, slamming of doors, heaps of shoes and jackets right inside the entrance door, schoolbags being dropped on the floor at the strangest places, the permanent heap of used towels and dirty clothes which never end up in the laundry basket. In short the activity level is high, noisy and visible in various ways.

I spend a lot of time picking up socks, always looking for the other one to make up a pair. The dog helps out by carrying shoes from the hallway and hides it under tables and other furniture. Sometimes he is lucky and finds my keys. I never find them at first attempt myself, so it is a good thing he can put them somewhere “obvious”.

Things scattered around is not really a big problem, because it is not a mess: it does not result in a sticky pool of something wet left to soak up by itself… hopefully before I find it and get a fit of frustration. (I realize my fits do not help any, as the kids try to avoid them by hiding the mess, rather than clean it up themselves or at least tell me so I can clean it up before it sets. My fits really end up having no effect other than serving as a classic example of what we could call frustrating recoil.)

Anyway, this weekend the sun was shining, so I let the clutter, my frustration over the state of my house and laundry be, and went outside.

I have this hallucination that if at least the garden looks fine, people will not notice the state of my house inside too much because they will be dazzled by the perfect idyll outside.

Last fall I invested in an abundance of flower bulbs and seed in the hope that they would survive the harsh winter… which never really came. And by now the tulips, the hyasinths and the crocus stood there proudly, ready to bloom. Ever so lovely, and I could picture the flowering season starting off like an overwhelming fireworks.

Anyway, I did some weeding, checked on my olive tree, my apricot/plum trees (yes, two kinds on one tree), my fritillaries, roses and clematis. I cut whatever was weathered or broken and refilled the flowerbeds with fresh soil.

At the end of the afternoon my garden looked really trimmed and cared for… my boys played football and I sat on the outdoor steps with a jug of hot coffee, enjoying the last beams of sun and feeling really pleased with myself.

The phone rang, I went inside to pick it up and I answered as I went back outside, still talking on the phone. Wireless phones are really great that way…

I still feel sorry for the person at the receiving end: when I came back outside my dog had, during those couple of minutes, dug a few perfect holes in my flowerbeds. Flowerbulbs scattered around the edge and the numerous perfect, lovely looking sprouts lay around in the dirt…

No, the dog is not dead... it is resting. He worked hard for a short while, you see....

How to carry scars.

The other day I met a man who wanted to tell me the story of his family.  There was a good reason to why he should, and in very to the point statements he told me what they had been through.

He did not display any emotions while telling, and he spoke in a low and very controlled manner.

He ended his story by saying: “I just wanted you to know, because I want to give you the opportunity to understand my son. Scars tell the story of what you have been through, both good and bad, just like wrinkles do. I am an adult, I know this.

My son can not show you his scars; his scars are hidden in his soul.”

He rose, turned his back to me and even though he was wearing a t-shirt I could see the criss-cross of distinct stripes running down his back.

Some people just impress me by how they carry their past. Others make all kinds of excuses in order to not make the best of things. They chase the road of convenience or comfort.

Others get trapped in anger and frustration, not willing to neither forgive nor to compromise.

I learned the other day that how I react is not always the best way to react. Often my frustration is directed to the wrong address. I forget that praise should be proclaimed and criticism has only one receiver: the one it may concern.

My scars are not to be displayed, but how I carry them reflects who I am and what I am like.

Things

Things. Such a short word, and yet it causes so much trouble.

I have been told that every family has its drama; I have never heard of (or experienced) disharmonious family matters which did not, at the end of the day, have something to do with things. Things someone at a time worked hard for and got hold of and which somebody else now wants. For free.

When I was really young I was told by a very wise, old man, that when I grew up I should not collect or hoard things just to show off how much stuff I could gather. I should focus on owning things that meant something to me. Things I needed. Things which for some reason I felt would stand out. It is not the number of things which will show your wealth or fortune: It is their significance.

Because, you see: things bring worries. Houses i.e. must be looked after: maintenance, cleaning, upgrading… it all adds time consuming effort of thinking through, problem solving, choices on colors, shapes, quality,  prices…

I have to admit I really enjoy the esthetic beauty most things display, I admire the innovating processes and the craftsmanship behind the thing, and I understand why it is such a joy to possess a chosen item. But… I am good at not wanting a lot of displayed stuff around me and in the house. (Mainly because dusting is NOT my favourite activity, to put it mildly.)

To be dead honest: I am not a good housewife. I do not dust every week, my plants are half withered before I remember to water them, I never check if there is oil or flushing medium on the car; A car just works: I insert and turn the key and off I go, and if it does not work: someone else is always nearby and he or she (for some strange reason usually he) knows how to fix it. Everything which must be done to the car I leave to others to do.

Not having a lot of stuff makes it easier to clean the house and when I die there will not be a lot to fight over.

Still, In my house we have a couple of types of things which are… suppose I should be honest enough to say they are out of hand. I do not have storage rooms, you see. I had this idea that what I do not use I do not want to keep… except a few folders with my kids’ drawings, things they create and make from toiletpaperrolls at school, folders with recipes on food I will never cook and clothes I will never knit or sew. We have a stationary computer, a Mac and four laptops, in addition to x-box and three tv's and like 478 dvd's and then a few games...

It seems like as if we have an endless amount of toys. All kinds of toys and a lot of it. They seem to float all over the place: lego in the sofa, footballs in the kitchen, table tennis bats  in the bathroom, action figures on the hallway floor. I hesitate to do much else than to pick it up and bring it back to where it is supposed to be placed and sorted into boxes, along with same kinds of toys. (I have a lot of really clever storage bins, but for some strange reason I fill them up constantly, and they are always nearly empty.)

Cars, lego, pokemon figures, miniature animals, musical toy instruments, costumes… everything has its own box (-es). It is funny how I think my kids watch way too much TV, and yet they play with something… or at least bring toys with them, at all times.

I do not really collect, but I have a lot of hobby articles. Fabrics, jarn, buttons, zippers, pearls, stones, glue with and without glitter, all kinds of paint, canvas, drawing paper, wires, string, all kinds of pencils, felt pens… you name it: I got it. I always plan to get to use it all, you see, and then I never get the time and next time I see a stamp I picture being used on a really great looking personal greeting card I buy it and add it to the continuously growing stack of bits and pieces just laying around looking like junk. I am not proud of it as yet, but one day it will miraculously turn into dazzling arts and crafts. Maybe. It will, perhaps.

Now, that I am thinking about it, I have way too much of a lot of stuff. Not items tastefully displayed to decorate the rooms, but just stuff. In addition to toys and hobby articles I have clothes (and a wardrobe much too small), shoes, laundry, stacks of books and more than just one big box of things I at one time knew what was… like hardware accessories belonging to something I got rid of 8 years ago, but in case I didn’t get rid of it anyway; I keep it… still don’t know what it is for, just keeping it in case I need it…

No, I do not hoard or collect or buy a lot of stuff. What I have is not really clutter even it looks like it. I just... you know: have it.

The real champions of the first prize

This weekend I left the TV on, so I could watch some sports in between everything else which I was doing.

I didn’t really do a lot, though. I was supposed to work, but as I opened the files to do some reviewing and grading it all just felt overwhelming and I postponed it. I sat there for a couple of hours clicking back and forth between files and just wasted a lot of time. Getting more coffee took quite a long time as I dwelled at every piece of distraction I passed by. Pictures I have seen every day for 40 years and such…

Work is still not done, and I know I have to do it real soon, but I am working on a plan which will make it more bearable. I just need to set deadlines and what to do when. Baby steps; but slowly getting there (I keep giving my students new tasks, but that is something I just have to calculate with. Read: ignore for now.)

Anyway, I was “watching” sports. Every time the commentator got excited I ran to the TV to see what was going on. It was cross country skiing and biathlon, sports the Norwegians are usually pretty good at, and there were quite a few exiting moments… and a few medals won. By the Norwegians, I mean (which is what counts).

As a nation we all want to take part in the success and we chant “victory is ours” and “WE won!” as if we all took part in the achievement.

And then and there we all believe it could have been us, it could have been we who were in great shape and as fit as the heroes and sticking out the pain it must be to push the body to its limits and drain every last drop of energy out of the body.

(Of course I know, deep in my heart, I don’t even have enough stamina to even rise from the sofa to get another cup of coffee. Not right now, anyway.)

As I was watching I came to think about what it must cost to be a top-level athlete, or any other outstanding performer of some sort.

Of course they give up many of the pleasures ordinary people find to be the joy of their life. They pick up on routines and diets we have no premises to even comprehend, and yet I can’t help but thinking they must do what they love the most, they pay the price and still want to continue.

By the time they turn old enough to show off results and have a paid apparatus to support them, somebody has already put down a lot of work, money, mileage, gas, time and effort to let them (and at times pushed them) keep on doing the sport they chose.

Somebody has been keeping track of time schedules, practice, training weekends, driven them to games and/or competitions, bought up to date equipment (often to a high expense and sacrificing things they wanted for themselves and others).

They have been out in all kinds of weather conditions, cheering their own and other kids on. Comforting when the kids felt they did badly and bragging like crazy when they did well. (And, perhaps the most impressive aspect of it all: they took on the laundry!)

At the same time they have been responsible for and done a lot of voluntary work raising money and keeping arenas, stadiums, tracks and facilities up to date and in good condition. Not to forget turning up serving as crew whenever an event took place… and I suspect there are quite a few pictures and videos around, showing every feat the children performed.

I am talking about the parents (often to a few of the team members) and the coaches who took on the challenge it is to guide very young children with no sense of discipline or persistence what so ever.

To all the adults who have been there for the kids, who invested themselves in the very young hopeful ones, who saw the talents and encouraged them and made them want to become Champions: CONGRATULATIONS!

The mistake of having a bad look.

For so many years now I have been lost in the magnitude of everything life has thrown my way. I do not think this is something I alone experience; I think we all, to some extent (some more than others, I am sure) find ourselves in that situation.

One day after another just slides into an indefinite time of same old, and we need to think hard to find those little things we find special enough to smile at.

In this process we tend to let ourselves down. The moments of pampering ourselves to charge the batteries and to feel good about ourselves tend to lose priority, as we, in the middle of running race with time, seem to think “I can do it later, it is not as if I will misplace myself. I will be here to be attended to later, but THIS is something I have to do now”.

When we are down and tired it takes more to bring us to the verge of laughter than when we are up and live with a bubble of contentment inside. A bubble just growing more and more into the state of joy, feeding off whatever brings warmth and beauty into our life. It can be anything from a bright flower surviving and showing off in a ditch, to a clean and tidy countertop in our kitchen.

I made up my mind to change what I felt stole my years. I would look around seeing all these stunning women, older than myself, and I had just let myself go at a much younger age. I was wearing myself out thinking I had put myself on hold, letting myself down, not allowing my family to be proud of a mum looking the way she felt. Cause I knew I had a core of something good going for myself. In example: I like my eyes, the color of my eyes is quite nice. That should brought into focus. I just have to find out how, and then do something about it. I am not talking glamorous appearance. Just to look groomed and neat.

I wondered what it would take to become an image of me, who I am, what I stand for.

I have seen makeovers on TV and in magazines and what I see is women (and a few men) who, with small changes in make-up, hairstyle and clothes have maintained their expression but at the same time improved what signal they radiate to their surroundings in a much more positive way.

I am still in the process of researching my options.

There is one thing I know, though: I will not, never ever, do as 7 of my friends have done; I will not use surgery as a tool to improve.

Actually… our ordinary days are the product of our lifestyle. There is nothing wrong about that, but I think we do people around us a disservice if we look like something the cat dragged in from the alley. My only problem is the time issue... nothing really takes long, but when you have more than enough to tend to minutes count, a lot.

We make people we care about feel guilty about it. And guilty feelings never lead to any good. You can tell by all the well-meant comments like: “You should cut your hair shorter…”, “You would look lovely in a skirt like that…”, “That color really would make wonders on you…” And all you hear is nagging and criticism because you are too tired or too preoccupied to (mis-) understand the comments correctly.

For that reason alone I think we owe it to ourselves and to people around us to make an effort and take time to look as if we take care of ourselves too. To not do so would be a mistake, I think… At least that is what I think about that. Today, that is.

“Don't beat yourself up over past mistakes. Hold your head high and dry your tears. A new day is here”.
Unknown quotes

Happiness

I try sometimes, as I constantly hurry from one task to another always on the move to another place than where I am, to reflect on the state of things.

It is not easy to engage in this kind of mental exercise because in my head there is a constant buzz of thoughts on what I just did, what I am doing, what I am going to do next. How, where, when, who, what are concepts I always relate to on different levels. It is like living and acting on parallel existences. Life is like an adventure with ever changing setting, pace and colors.

In the midst of this I stumbled upon a somewhat worrying question I tend to keep in the back of my head: Am I happy? If I just cut to the core, disregarding the chaos I feel my life is a majority of the time, would it be right to say that I am living my life being genuinely happy?

Happiness seems to be what everybody is striving for. Media, and society beyond that, tells us so in pictures, words and display of material visibility. We're trapped in a chase for happiness constantly, where we as a people in one of the best countries in the world are supposed to be happy all the time. Whether it's family, friends, work or love. And it's hard to not always be completely there – embedded in a bubble of happiness. 

Then again; happiness, the state of being happy, can’t be to constantly show the world a bright Colgate smile… Would we really be able to recognize feelings if we never felt otherwise? If I was never sad, would I know what it is to be joyful?

I know people who smile most of the time, (and always do in public) but they still claim they are very unhappy.

Happiness means different things to different people, or perhaps it would be more correct to say that what makes you happy changes by where you are in life; what your circumstances of life are like, right now. Right now; you are the result of everything you experienced in the past. You just need to decide to do the best of it.

For example, for one person it may mean being in a (romantic) relationship whereas for someone else it may mean feeling you have the ability to handle whatever life throws at you. To cope and to be independent of aid from others can be very fulfilling… to some.

While you might think that there are certain things that make you happy (or could make you happy if you had them), it is funny how most people I talk to never really mention what they own or do not own. To wish for something, saving up money for a specific event, thing or secure and comfortable retirement is just as satisfying as to actually get it. 

The anticipation is a great part of feeling happy: To realize what you have now and appreciate it, but looking forward to whatever it is you are  planning (and expect) to achieve. But keep the words of John Lennon in mind:”Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.  Don’t spend your life waiting for what the future holds: Fill your days with life instead.

Personally, I find the “looking-forward-to…” phase so very exciting. Thinking about what may come gives a free rein to my imagination and I come up with perfect outcomes of my planning.

What distinguishes happy people from the unhappy is very often their choice of words and way of thinking. The attitude of a cup half empty, or a cup half full, colors you as a person and therefor people you surround yourself with. I believe we make an impact on those we keep near, and it is like exchanging motivation, inspiration, attitude, state of mind…: What I get is what I give. I can make people around me if not happy at least more content… and being content is a very good start.

I would think that happy people are generally healthier people than unhappy people. Not only mentally, but also physically. I don’t think that being miserable is what attracts virus or sickness, but if you are down it is sometimes hard to point out what it is about you and /or your life which is bad, so you think hard on reasons to what might be not right.

Finding myself in the middle of the bustle my life is: Yes. I still have things I want to get or to achieve. But deep down, in my heart, I have to confess I am happy.