Silly thought while emptying dishwasher

Cleaning out a drawer
Big spoon spoons a little spoon
It made a baby?

Glad to be safe at home

Black clouds like bullies
Birds fly low in the sky
The next storm rolls near.

Only one up early this morning

Dawn slides back along
The invisible steal line
Daylight savings time.

It snowed last night

Field of crocuses
Spots of purple and orange 
Shine through white blanket.

Promise to myself

Time to think slowly
Stop all distracting actions
River of thoughts flows.

Wonder when it happened. It took time. And there were never any nefarious intentions, for sure. Yet, somewhere in the last years, I have stopped spending quiet time with myself. Instead, I always need to be doing some sort of action or having conversations... chugging away all day long. 

I never just gaze off into the distance and get lost in my thoughts. Nor am I comfortable with that squeamish sensation of boredom. Even going for a walk seems a waste of time unless I listen to a podcast or audiobook. Crazy. Maybe Julien is right. I should stop watching K-dramas for a while. Turn off the moving pictures, and close down the screens.

I could move slower and have sustained moments of no activity. Take time to listen to music. Really listen to the music instead of using it to fill in the background of the movie that is my day-to-day life.

Promise to self: acquire a daily practice of letting the river of thoughts flow.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.) 

Bodlakova Jakobsen yoga school for babies

(dedicated to Anna, my dear friend and new mother)

Today, at Boodlakova Jakobsen's School for Yoga, Pinot, a cat, is doing a private baby yoga session with Theo, 4 weeks old.

Pinot: Take a deep breath in. Now breathe out. Lie down with your legs stretched out and your back straight.

Theo: Check. And Check.

P: Relax your shoulders. Stretch your arms up and over your head.

T: Woah, why are they wobbling around?

P: Stretch your legs out, and move them and your arms to the right in the banana pose.

T: Where's right? And what's a banana?

P: Now, move your arms and legs to the left. Feel how the right side of your body is stretching.

T: Hey, where's left?

P: Roll onto your stomach.

T: I need help here!

P: Lift up your head and gaze into the distance.

T: Got it! Wait a second... I can't do this any longer.

P: Lower your head and face to the right and glace over your shoulder.

T: Check.

P: Now turn your head to the left and glace over your shoulder.

T: This is easy peasy.

P: Turn back onto your back.

T: Again, I need help here!

P: Now we will do śavāsana. Close your eyes.

T: Oh yes!

P: Relax the point in the middle of your forehead.

T: Hmmmm.

P: Relax your body. Let a sense of inner peace flow throughout.

T: Oh, I just peed.

P: Breathe deeply and slowly and enjoy letting the river of thoughts come and go.

There are only snoozing sounds coming from Theo.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)   

Travelling back in time

I wrote this piece recently in memory of that time of grief after Dave died. We had a writing prompt in a writing club let me travel back in time...

No one told me that grief is animalistic. It is so painful that I only trust myself to breathe from the top of my chest. If I breathe into my belly, I will undoubtedly melt away somewhere dark, damp, and scary. Who knows if I will find my way back.

Friends and colleagues mean well. Some send books on grief. Why are there so many? What makes the authors experts on the topic? Reading their titles stun and bores me at the same time. I do not have the strength to open their covers.

The only true consolation I have found is a thought that a dear friend shared. She said, "Imagine standing in a circle with 100 people holding hands. Each of us is asked to gently lift off the suffering, pain, and burden on our shoulders and place it in the middle of the circle. We do this one by one, humbly acknowledging the growing mountain of woes. Then we are asked to go back to the center and choose a fair measure of burden. Most of us would choose to take back what we laid down."

Whenever I am at risk of melting away into this abyss called morning your death, I say to myself, "fair measure," and I am comforted to know at least here and now, you are still with me. 

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)  

Down memory lane and into a blackhole of blissful escapism

Friend Auksė kindly agreed to let me post her writing from today's Wednesday Writing Club. The piece so clearly delights in the memory of that first-time experience of becoming a lifelong reader. 

(Auksė 15-03-2023)

I remember that day so vividly, although it all disappeared in a huge sweeping motion as if the minutes and hours were blown away by the wind of somebody else’s imagination. I had waited for the Lithuanian translation of the third or the fourth book for some months, I think. I was a Harry Potter fan since the very first book, though I read it after my mom – I guess I was too young to see its potential right away, the prospect of showing me what a few hundred sheets of paper with monotonous rows of signs could do for my young head.

I’ve heard somewhere that reading is like hallucinating. You stare at an unmoving surface for hours, turning sheet after sheet of processed, pressed trees, and the most colourful and fabulous images appear in your brain. You hear voices, and you feel feelings; your own and those of the people, creatures, plants and objects in the story.

That day I curled up in bed in the morning – I don’t think I even got out of my pyjamas, since it was a school holiday – and I started reading. My nanny, whom I still call my third grandmother or simply grandma, would occasionally enter the room and ask if I was hungry. I was not hungry but accepted a glass of sweet quince juice. I didn’t have time for food, as I was flying on my broom at a quidditch match, learning new charms, or making potions. 

After such intense mornings and afternoons of reading, I would continue in my sleep. Turning pages in the middle of the night, eyes closed, body relaxed, my brain making up new magic stories – but now with me as a student in the School of Wizardry.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.) 

Krazy kismet or sensational serendipity?

I tripped over an article in this month's German Vogue. The two founders of Fein Games are interviewed about their goal of feminizing the gaming market. Their target groups are feminists and non-binary persons. I love it! This is exactly the market that I was writing gaming scripts for in the early 2000s. How sensational is that?

A few months ago, after a conversation with my daughter, who mentioned the 90s and early 2000s are back in mode, I decided to revisit those scripts. I had not read them for good 10-15 years. I wondered whether they were still interesting or not.
 
I read them with much trepidation but was heart-warmingly surprised that the characters and storylines hold. And what was most surprising was the target group that I was writing for at that time was a feminist/diverse/non-binary group. Who knew? There wasn't even any awareness that such a target group existed back then.
 
So, I've decided to try again to find a game developer to produce one of the scripts. This is something I have tried to do twice before. 

The first time, I managed to pitch Sydney Soap and Talkshow Rivals to the Japanese publisher's (think S**y) marketing department at their London office. The PS2 was just out, and they were looking at gaming ideas that would appeal to women (who were thought of as a niche market back then). 

They invited me to meet with their R&D department to see if they were interested in producing Talkshow Rivals. The only thing I remember about that experience was that it was exciting to meet people who shared my vision of smart, fun gaming for women.
 
Alas, they might have shared my vision, but they ultimately turned down to project because they said it would be too expensive to produce.

The second time I pitched, I ended up meeting someone who was more into television than games. We worked on a treatment and script for an interactive murder mystery called "Doubting Alice" (English working title) or "Ein Toter und zwei Mörder" (German working title). He pitched the show to one of the German public television channels. They said, once again, "good idea, but too expensive to produce".

My hope is now there are so many easy ways to produce games that do not need a huge budget; my time has finally come around. The third time's the charm, right?

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Wanderlust

Peek out the window
the full moon sits on rooftop
Where are you, my friend? 

Walking along the canal

I bundle up warm 

My breath clouds my thoughts today

Flock of geese in sky. 

Out into the icy winter day

Dawn light on bare branch

Boots squeak, leaving white footprints

Frost biting my nose. 

Financial literacy

Money has been a taboo topic in my extended family for most of my life. Actually, it has been so on both sides of the family. As some of you know, my father worked hard in his career and created a fortune. After his death, my mother spent that fortune. This would not have happened if my mother and siblings were more financially literate. Because of this situation, I want my immediate family to be transparent and collaborative when making financial decisions. 

Since I am going into semi-retirement as of August this year and full retirement, if my health remains good, in 2-3 years. This is the right moment to get an overview of my and Giui's financial situation in the near term, during my semi-retirement, and when we both retire.

So, I went to our tax advisor this week to determine what I would earn during the next years. It appears that if I work eight days a month during semi-retirement for the next 2-3 years, I will bring home the same amount of money as I currently am working four days a week. Very good news indeed!

This is because I will not be paying retirement insurance or unemployment insurance and will receive my monthly pension. You might think my pension would be the most significant contributor, but that is not the case. 

The reality is, once I go into full retirement, I will only be earning 30% of what I am making now. When Giui goes into retirement, we will have a combined income of just over 55% of our current monthly income. And this income is still taxable.

The lean years are coming, and it is my wish that Giui and I do not see this as a bad thing. We have his mother as a role model. She is someone who worked hard until she was 70 and now, at 83, she is still capable of living with a very modest income and is content with her lot.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

House full of visiting kids

It is dark outside
Writing poems while others sleep
Grey dawn approaches.

Struggle to keep eating healthily

McDonald's tempting
Walking through the train station
Apple in my bag.

Cancelling a video conference call with a friend

The sun is shinning

I need to move my body

Let's talk on the phone.

The answer back a few minutes later...

A day bright and crisp

I’ll walk with you in my ear

And perhaps birdsong.

(I am envious that the answer is far more romantic.)

Introvert

My thoughts are fuzzy
Balls of lint under sofa
How am I today?

Extrovert

How am I today?
Calendar full of meetings
Just keep calm and cool.