Darn, my bias

A young family with three young boys. The father and the boys all have shaven heads but for short mats of hair on top. The middle boy is starting elementary school today... His school bag has a combat camouflage pattern...

Darn, if my thoughts don't wander over to AfD and neo-Nazi.

To my dear friend in need

In the cathedral
Or along a forest path

My thoughts are with you. 

The power of friendship

Years and years ago, I had a dream that haunted me for a long time. In the dream, I was standing before a tribunal, having to prove my mental competency. I stood there shaking with an ominous feeling that I was failing to prove I could care for myself.

The judges said I was to show them my bank book. (Yes, there were bank books then.) So, I handed over my bank book, and when one of the judges opened the book, instead of columns of deposited money, there was a list of names—my friends.

I remember their looks of disbelief. Even though I knew I had failed in their eyes, seeing the list of friends made me happy.

Listening to this wonderful interview above. The dream whooshed back into my thoughts. 

So, for all of you, my dear friends, I thank you so dearly for giving me so much joy and happiness and things money can't buy. To a long life!

#artists I have known: Grandma Buckley

Grandma Buckley belonged to a generation of women who mastered handicrafts at an extraordinary level. Knitting, crocheting, rug-making—these were just the beginning. In her childhood, nothing was store-bought if it could be made by industrious hands. Girls were taught from a young age to avoid the shame of "idle hands, idle thoughts." Beyond practicality, there were specific handicrafts every young lady learned to prepare a proper dowry.

Grandma’s talents went far beyond the expected. She painted delicate porcelain, crafted intricate bobbin lace, embroidered detailed flowers and landscapes, quilted, and hemstitched napkins and tablecloths. Her home was a gallery of her handiwork, her cupboards brimming with treasures. Despite only completing a grade-six education, she carried herself with the grace and refinement of a true gentlewoman.

She was also a woman of profound faith. Grandma attended mass daily, sometimes more often on special holidays. Her faith was intertwined with her creativity—she was always crafting mittens, Christmas wreaths, quilts, jams, jellies, and baked goods to sell at church bazaars. At her funeral, an old friend shared a remarkable story: Grandma’s handmade goods were so admired at these events that they outshone all others. Initially, each woman had her own table or designated spot, but buyers flocked to Grandma’s wares, clearing her table within the first thirty minutes. To avoid embarrassment for the other contributors, the organizers eventually began spreading Grandma’s creations among the other displays, ensuring fairness in the sales.

What has always puzzled me is why Grandma’s artistry was never truly acknowledged, even within our family. She never sought praise and rarely received it. Was it because she was a woman, living in a time when only men were considered artists? Or was it because traditional handicrafts were dismissed as mere domestic labor rather than actual art?

Later in life, Peter became a remarkable writer and even rediscovered his love for playing Bach on the piano. Grandma’s creative spirit skipped over Pat and John but found it in Karen, Kim, D., and me. Without fanfare or formal lessons, she inspired us simply by living her art. Her gentle persistence as a role model shaped our lives in ways she likely never imagined.

Grandma Buckley may not have been celebrated as an artist in her time, but her legacy of creativity lives on in all of us who were touched by her life and work. 

Class reunion

Such smiling faces.
Introductions are stories
Bridging 50 years.

TR update: I am really excited

After much consideration and numerous delays, I am moving forward with selling my Talkshow Rivals (TR) script. I'm giving myself a year.

Here's what has happened in the last months:

• I finished reworking the script (now version 5)
• Research on the gaming industry as a whole
• Wrote an executive summary
• Approach first game developers (fein games in Berlin)
  
  

I also have a great team of people from various corners of the world helping me:

• Charlotte (Heidelberg) has kindly offered to help me with the pitch and all communication
• Nicola (Samui, Thailand) is helping me with strategy
• Iliana (Copenhagen) is reading the script and giving feedback
• Sarah (Lübeck) is helping me understand the gaming industry better and what players like and do not like about current games on the market

#artists I have known: Uncle Peter

When we think of artists, we often picture painters, musicians, actors, or dancers. Rarely do we consider journalists. But Peter was an artist in every sense of the word—a wordsmith and a storyteller of truth.

He belonged to the Old School of Journalism, a generation of writers/journalists who believed what they did was for the betterment of society. In speech, as on paper, his deep intellect and insatiable curiosity found expression in their barest form. He made each word and each sentence count. He avoided unnecessary flourishes, letting the power of simplicity do the heavy lifting.

I was too young to read his articles when they were first published, but his legacy spoke for itself. Younger journalists who had worked with him at the Canadian Press spoke of him with reverence. They credited Peter with setting the gold standard for journalism—a benchmark that influenced not only his peers but also the generations that followed.

On a personal level, Peter was one of the few adults who encouraged my budding love for writing. At first, I was hesitant to tell him about my passion, especially for poetry. I assumed he might scoff at my efforts as the indulgences of a teenager. How wrong I was. Not only did he take my interest seriously, but he also welcomed me into his world of creative thought. Our conversations about writing were inspiring, and I was flattered that someone of his stature would take my ideas seriously.

Peter believed deeply in the transformative power of words. He understood that language can bridge gaps, ignite passions, or offer solace in times of sorrow. He taught me that a well-chosen word could change a person’s perspective. And he didn’t draw lines between the “big” world of global events and the smaller, intimate worlds we live in. To him, both were equally deserving of attention, honesty, and care.

Looking back, I realize how profoundly Peter influenced me. He showed me that writing isn’t just an act of expression; it’s an act of connection. He believed in the power of the written word to make the world a better place.

#booksIlove: Never Cry Wolf

Title: Never Cry Wolf, by Farley Mowat
When did I first read the book: sometime in the early 1970s

If you want to read a book that is, at its core, a funny antidote about how bad society is at understanding the nature of animals, this is the book for you. This book was written 60 years ago. It is a perfect case study of one of the root causes of why we, humans, continue to perpetrate mass extension in animalkind. And that is willful ignorance.  

I am... a retiree

Officially, I've been a retiree since last year. Since then, I have received my modest monthly government pension. Since June this year, I have retired from my company. Yet. I still "work" as a project manager, coach, and agile facilitator. Sometimes, I earn money. Sometimes I do the work out of the goodness of my heart. So, if being a retiree doesn't mean retiring from work, what does it mean?

At the moment, it means I no longer contribute to the state retirement plan. It also means facing the stark reality of how little my monthly pension is and how Giui and I must reduce monthly costs. And even though my monthly income has been drastically reduced, I still have to pay taxes, which supports the popular saying that the only two certainties in life are death and taxes.

I'll stop moaning about money and look at the positive aspects:

I no longer have to apply for vacation time; instead, I can just travel whenever I want.

I am the boss of my calendar. Recently, I did some contractual work for my old team and instantly found myself back in the labyrinth of meeting conflicts. 

I can focus on my main priority, which is to live healthily. This means getting 7- 8 hours of sleep a night, walking 10,000 steps a day, eating well, not drinking alcohol or eating sweets, doing yoga twice a week, and going to the gym twice a week. I used to do more sports, such as Tai Chi and meditation, but I have not done so since the children came. So, changing my focus towards more movement and a healthy lifestyle is a significant shift. 

I've been spending time travelling. Admittedly, I have been like a child in a candy shop in the last few months. I have spent a fair portion of the time travelling alone or visiting family and friends. I've travelled down to Frankfurt slowly, with regional trains. Slow travel, how luxurious is that.

Now, for the stuff I have not been doing well. Whether this is because I have yet to make the mental shift, or because I am avoiding change, I cannot say:

• spend more time with Giui 
• spend more time with the kids
• editing and selling the Talkshow Rivals script
• meditating daily 
• taking time to do "nothing" 
• drawing and painting 
• writing more 
• taking classes online 
• writing and creating a layout for my haiku book 

The list is long, but it is better to stop here. As you can see, I have a lot to reflect on and change.

To my dearest, Karen

My older sister
Comes to life a younger self
With so much laughter. 

Unexpected

I enter the cathedral in Hildesheim

Seeking sanctuary and relief 

From the crowded pedestrian zone

At the center of the city.

Slews of shoppers. So many shops. 

So many many things

I do not need or would want to buy.

In the church, the buzz continues, 

It is an inside market for organisations

Helping senior citizens 

There are two musicians in the front

To the left of the altar, 

There's a brumming of 

Background voices intertwined 

With the klimmpering of

Notes from their keyboard... 

#booksIlove: Bachelor Brothers Bed & Breakfast

Title: Bachelor Brothers Bed & Breakfast, Bill Richardson
When I first read the book: 1995

This is a book that Pat sent me during one of those dark winter months in northern Germany. It is in journal form, and what a delight to read. 

If I remember right, it is set on the west coast of BC. The characters flowing in and out of the two brothers' lives are such quirky, lovable people.

So, with winter drawing near, read this book!  

Finally someone rang our doorbell

Giui always buys sweets to give out on Halloween, even though we do not get any visitors. We live in the middle of the city and so most parents bring their children to the suburbs to trick or treat. 

Can you imagine our surprise, when our doorbell rang last night? It was Limo and Wian. Wian with a very small bag, half-filled with candy. She delicately choose one candy from our meager selection. What a dear-heart.

What a delight!

I am... a sailor (lessons 8)

Lesson 8: be aware of the 150% - 100% divide

When you are on a boat for an extended period of time, you get to know things about the other crew members that even their friends and family do not know. Being in a small space in the middle of a vast ocean exposes foibles as well as strengths. Not everyone likes to become aware of the edges of their personalities, nor do they always find the patience to deal with those of others. Nowhere is this impatience more noticeable than in how willing each crew member is to do their "fair share." 

The harmony of the boat can rest on completing your tasks and responsibilities correctly and in a timely manner. Things like:

• showing up 20 minutes before your watch begins
• cleaning up the galley directly after you have made a sandwich or snack for yourself (i. e. even before you eat it!)
• wipe down the head after showering or shaving
• don't leave any books, clothes, or clutter in the main cabin
• wash the dishes and clean up the galley directly after dinner is finished and before the evening activities (e.g. playing cards or stargazing)
• occasionally ask the others on watch if you can make them a cup of coffee or a snack
• clean up the cabin you are sharing with some other crew member
• occasionally clean up the main cabin
• occasionally sweep and wash the floors
• if needed, pump out the bilge water
• occasionally wash out the cockpit
• take the empty coffee cups and wash and put them away
• make sure all the lines are properly coiled

Actually, the list is endless. Generally, you need to:

1. listen to the captain's instructions

2. make sure the boat is always tip-top

3. Think about what you can do to make the crew happy

4. make sure you are doing your allocated tasks properly

On the surface, you are there to have fun and enjoy yourself. On another level, you have to be diligent and follow the four points in the order in which they are presented. Dave said that you have to do 150% of what you think fair is your share for others to think you have done 100%.

Conclusion: when cohabitating with others, keep working 

I am... a sailor (lessons 7)

Lesson 7: always welcome New Blood
 
I could never figure out whether Dave's way of inviting people to come sailing was of design or out of laziness. Whether it was a Sunday sail or a stretch on a long-distance voyage, the mix of people invited to come on the boat was a random mix of new and old.
 
Weirdly, the mix-and-match of the crews did work for the most part. This is why I think it might have been by design.
 
Though knowing Dave, it could have been out of laziness or disregard of how human dynamics can affect how much pleasure shared company contributes to the sailing experience. He always seemed to take people at face value.
 
I never saw him annoyed with the behaviour or predilections of the crew members. Yet, he had little patience in hearing me complain about certain people who got on my nerves. It was as if the whole art of creating a good crew was in the mix, and introducing a wild card  (someone new) was the hot sauce on top.
 
Conclusion: stay true to your beliefs

Sneaky winter raises its head

How did this happen
Already, the greens have gone
Yellow leaves falling.

I am... a sailor (lessons 6)

Lesson 6: there is bliss in unison

These are Dave's three rules for teamwork: 

* Everyone has to know which tasks to complete, when to complete them, and how to do them.

* Everyone should concentrate on completing their tasks well. They should not interfere with anyone else who is doing or not doing their tasks the way they think they should do them.

* If anyone asks you for help, no matter when you help them.

When teamwork works, there are moments of bliss for all. This feeling of unison is truly marvellous.

Conclusion: good teamwork is not rocket science 

#booksIlove: Essays in Idleness

Title: Essays in Idleness, Tsurezuregusa of Kenko
When I first read the book: probably in my early 20s

At one time, most of my reading was focused on Buddhist monks, mystics, and leaders of Eastern religions. Some of those books I read numerous times; this book, Essays in Idleness, I read only once. Yet, it has stayed on my bookshelf for the past 40 years. 

While browsing through my books this morning, I stumbled upon its delightful title. So, I think now would be the best time to read it again.

I am... a sailor (lessons 5)

Lesson 5: get comfortable with discomfort

 

"Get comfortable with discomfort" was one of Dave's most often repeated mottos, especially regarding aging. If there is one thing you can say about sailing, it is that you are constantly experiencing discomfort.

 

Kim and I were on her boat this summer when her motor wouldn't start. She called her nifty mechanic, and he tried to troubleshoot over the phone. She was up and down from the cockpit to the motor room, scrambling deep into storage areas, looking for various voltmeters and tools, lifting heavy battery banks, and filing down contact points.

 

Watching her try to fix the situation reminded me so much of Dave. He'd work and work to fix system failures. If he couldn't do that, he would work on finding a Plan B that would allow us to sleep peacefully that night.

Conclusion: stay agile in mind and body 

I am... a settler

Settler (noun): a person who arrives, especially from another country, in a new place in order to live there and use the land

The whole idea of retribution towards our Indigenous people, is not something I heard about during my childhood and early adulthood. Being Canadian was (and still is) a positive badge I carry.

Who wouldn't want to be Canadian? This is more so if you are a Canadian living in Germany. At least we are not American. 

Unfortunately, there is a strong anti-American sentiment in German media, especially when it comes to culture (or lack of), education (university education is free here), medical care (the social medical system functions for all, yet is far from perfect), and social infrastructure (good public transport systems exist throughout the country). 

It is not that the media is pro-German; they are definitely critical about all that goes on here. Yet, they are also critical of the "America the Great" mentality. And like many countries worldwide, they spend a lot of energy reporting on the happenings in the States. Especially over the last ten years with a certain President, now running candidate with a criminal record, hogging the headlines and the weakening of the demographic system.

Okay, now back to settlers... 

Recently, I had a discussion with a dear friend in Montreal. They mentioned they felt cornered into being a "Canadian settler" rather than "Canadian". Their forefathers and foremothers immigrated centuries ago to Montreal. They felt frustrated, even angry, at being labelled a settler.

In my case, my great-grandparents on the maternal side and my great-great-grandparents on the paternal side settled in Canada. The first came as poor Irish fleeing the potato famine. The others were tradesmen seeking opportunity. 

So, even though they were not individually responsible for the tragedies and crimes committed toward Indigenous people, they were settlers. On top of that, on the paternal side, it can be argued they were colonialists.

So, as someone who is truly sorry for the destruction the Indigenous people suffered, and the role European settlers played in the past, I am (at the very least) a settler. I do not see it as a badge of shame, though I am deeply ashamed of how ignorant I have been believing the history I was taught. Instead, I endeavour to carry the badge of truth as best I can.

I am... a sailor (lessons 4)

Lesson 4: everyone's equal though not the same

This is a difficult lesson to describe. Some of this has to do with Dave's casual way of making people feel at ease with his company, no matter where they came from or what walk of life they followed. He really believed all were equal, and no level of status or experience, or lack of it, changed his way of dealing with people. On the boat, long-distance sailors or super-successful racers were treated equally as those who were sailing for the first time.

This is not the way ships are usually run. There is probably no better environment to witness top-down management than on a boat. (Okay, maybe the army.) So, the fact Dave was the way he was, was special. This is also the reason he had endless amount of people who wanted to crew for him.

Yet, there were many who only wanted to sail in good weather, or those who preferred to come for drinks once the boat was tied up. There were those who liked the idea of sailing but always backed out at the last moment. It wasn't a big deal. He never took it personally, but would continue inviting them to come along for a sail, even if they did not share the same enthusiasm he did for being out on water.

Conclusion: stay true to your beliefs

#booksIlove: Ronja, the Robber's Daughter

Title: Ronja, the Robber's Daughter, by Astrid Lindgren
The first time I read the book: 1985

I’ve always loved children’s books. Even as an adult. Ronja, the Robber's Daughter, by Astrid Lindgren was one of the first books I read in German. Astrid Lindgren was probably one of the most famous children’s books authors in all of Europe. I did not know about her until I came to Germany.

Even though she was most known for her character Pippi Longstockings, Ronja really went close to my heart.

A ray of light in autumn darkness

Dear friend from afar
Brings sunshine and good humour
Today's excitement. 

I am... a sailor (lessons 3)

Lesson 3: when handing over any task, you have to let go
 
Dave did not believe in what is now called micro-managing. No matter whether you were an experienced sailor or not, he treated everyone the same. He would give instructions to the person next to him if he needed something done. This led some fair-weather sailors to sit somewhere where Dave couldn't see them. But generally, many found it fun to sail with him because everyone contributed.
 
I was always puzzled why he'd send total beginners off to do tasks without any apparent worry, since sometimes the results were not good. I wondered why he didn't choose someone more capable. He said that as a captain, he wanted everyone to feel they were a part of the crew. There were no guests on his boat.
 
If and when things went wrong, he never blamed the person's competency. If a task was not done correctly, it was because his instructions were not good and not the fault of the other person's skills to execute them.
 
Conclusion: always give clear instructions

I am... a sailor (lessons 1-2)

Sailing was a large part of my life, particularly during my late teens and throughout my 20s. As a captain, Dave influenced my growth since I was born. Even after his death, so much of what I think and do is connected to the lessons he taught me while we sailed.
 
Lesson 1: always keep your sails trimmed
 
While sailing a regatta, speed is equal to how well you keep the boat's sails trimmed. When tacking, it is critical to change tack quickly and trim the sails. Even during pleasure sailing, Dave always ensured the sails were filled with wind and the boat was doing its best. If the jib started luffing, he would either change course or trim the sail.
 
Conclusion: never take your eyes off the sail.
 
Lesson 2: a good captain never shouts when the situation is critical
 
There was a time when we were sitting on the boat at the dock when two sailing boats came into the yacht club at the same time.
 
The first boat came in with a captain and four crew members, all dressed in the same T-shirts and looking very spiffy. A strong crosswind was blowing, making tying up to a slot very difficult. The captain had positioned the crew well, each with an extra fender to help fend off the boat if it got too close to another boat. Everything seemed to be going well when a sudden gust of wind hit the boat and manoeuvred it in the wrong direction.
 
The captain increased the motor speed to counter the wind and barked at the crew to fend off the boat. When things got tricky, he shouted at a crew member standing at the bow to jump onto the wharf and then told the other to throw them a line.
 
It was quite spectacular to see the captain struggling to get the boat under control and the crew jumping around, fending off the boats and getting the boat finally tied up.
 
The other boat only had the captain and one crew member. They came in and saw how tricky the situation was. The captain had to abort the first and second attempts because the wind drove the bow in the wrong direction. Eventually, on the third attempt, he tied up without any problem.

I remember Dave's look of admiration at the captain of the second boat. When questioned why, he responded, "A captain never shouts. The first boat was an embarrassing spectacle, whereas the second was a quiet victory."

Conclusion: aim for quiet victories

#booksIlove: The Wee Free Men

Title: The Wee Free Men, by Terry Pratchett
When I read it for the first time: sometime in the 90s and many times since

Claudia introduced Giui and me to Terry Pratchett. He is a writer of great fantasy, and his sense of humour is contagious. I listen to the audiobook more often than I read because Stephen Briggs, who narrates the book, best captures the craziness of his storyline with an inspiring ease. And the Scottish accents... bliss.

I am... a sailor (part 1)

Dave's idea of pleasure was being on a boat. It did not matter where he was or who he was with; sailing was where he felt most at home. I don't remember sailing much as a small child. When we finally arrived in Montreal, I must have been 7-8 years old, Dave connected up with an old friend, Frank.

Frank had a sailboat but didn't have anyone to sail with. Dave didn't have a boat, but he had all the time (so it with Frank seemed) to sail.  Eventually, Dave brought us kids along as crew. We could always be counted on to act as a willing crew during regattas. There was the Monday regatta series, the Wednesday series, and the weekend regattas. Every yacht club, from the St. Lawrence Yacht Club on the northwest side of Montreal down to the Hudson Yacht Club, would host at least one regatta during the summer season.

Frank and Dave would find adult volunteers to help crew, but the children were also expected to fill in. If you want to learn how to sail, be a crew member on a boat during a regatta. Sailing is generally a leisure sport, with an occasional storm. 
Most sailors are known for being relaxed beings. They keep their cool in all situations and are super cool because of this. Taking part in a regatta is serious business. There's no room for sloppiness. Looking at the crew during a race is a study of focused mind, intentional minimal movement, and awareness of what might come next.

 
Between the regattas, we had times when we went somewhere as a family, as a pleasure sail. We knew St. Louis and the Richelieu River like the back of our hands. We sailed often in Lake Champlain, the Thousand Islands, and Lake Ontario. Somewhere down the line, we went to Grenda and sailed the Grenadines. We went to Florida once (or twice?) and rented a houseboat in the Everglades. 

After D, Dave, and Pat moved to Grenada, sailing became a part of every visit I had. Once I moved to Germany, I spent nearly all my vacation time sailing with them in Europe (Greece, Turkey, France, England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Denmark), the Grenadines, Venezuela, and the East and West coasts of Canada.

I took a year's sabbatical and sailed with Dave and various changing crews from Scotland down to Gran Canary and then over to Grenada. Sometime later, we sailed from Grenada to Newfoundland with D., Jen, and Dave. I think I got onboard in Bermuda on this trip.

So, that's it, as far as how much sailing played a big part in my life, from childhood until he died. In the next post, I will write about what Dave and sailing taught me about life.

I am.. a KCOner

Sometime in the past, I think it was when Sara and Matthias went to see Coldplay (or Robby Williams?) concert with Beate and Matthias, Julien asked whether I would ever consider going to seeing a concert with Sara and him. I answered with a very non-committal "maybe". My heart wanted to say yes, but my brain said no because of the crowds. On some level, going to a concert was like walking into the lion's den with my fear of crowds. Something that I have nicely avoided at every turn.

So, it is with some surprise that I found my way down to Frankfurt to attend the first KCON festival this last weekend. Not only was it fun, I am excited to try it again. Crowds who meet with excitement to hear their favourite artist perform are not scary at all.

I am... a career coach

Sometimes, a mentor's role can also be the same as a career coach. Sometimes, of course, it is not. The way I see it, if the mentee or coachee comes and leaves within a few months after starting a new job, that's career coaching.

It is especially exciting to work with someone searching for a new career path; finding a new job that aligns with their internal motivations and value system. A career coach helps them overcome their fear of change or pushes them out of the black hole they are stuck in. 

After being a career coach of countless people, my best strategy is to tell and show the coachee they are not alone. Any significant career change is best done together with someone who is not directly affected by your choices but, nevertheless, with someone who can emotionally support you. 

I am... a collector of stories

Some people can remember names or faces. I can do neither. I even switch people's names of those I hold dear (sorry, Daniel... err... Julien). There is no excuse or explanation to brush this inadequacy aside. Still, there is one thing that I'm good at and this is collecting and remembering stories.

I'm sitting at a community table in a lovely café. The two women sitting next to me seem to have only met by chance. Even though they don't know each other well, they enter into an intensely deep conversation after the first 15 minutes.

There is very little chance I will see either woman again, but if I do, I will definitely remember how the one fell in love with her partner (she just met his parents!") and how the other had a terrible father and has always been disappointed by her lovers, so is only focusing on being a good mother. By the end of the conversation the two women get up and hug before going their separate ways. An afternoon well spent.

Of course, most of the stories I collect are not found by listening into private conversations (I swear they were talking loud enough it was impossible not to overhear). I particularly like stories told by relative strangers (e.g. taxi drivers, storekeepers, or museum security guards) or those strangers who become briefly instant friends because of certain circumstances (e.g. long-haul airplane trip or in a crowded doctor's waiting room.) But, like drinking instant coffee, such encounters can leave a bitter after taste once you say goodbye. You have to make sure to wrap up such conversations with consideration and thankfulness. If not, it can be really awkward. 

Then there are the stories told over and over again when friends and family meet. You have to be careful of not repeating them too often. Especially, as one gets older, this is such an embarrassing thing to do. You might catch some people in the room roll their eyes. How mortifying.

It's those stories told in secret that sometimes tear my heart apart. I have yet to find a method to remove the burden of these stories from my soul. I'd love to be able to set them free.

Stories, whether gifts of reminiscing or burden of confessions, are always precious. I try and hold on to the dearly.

#booksIlove: The Classic Fairy Tales

Title: The Classic Fairy Tales, but Iona and Peter Opie
When I read it first: Christmas of 1974

In my teens and early 20s, I became quite obsessed with fairy tales and folk stories. Pat gave me this book for Christmas, and I remember gulping it down so quickly I could barely come up for breaths.   

#booksIlove: Zen Mind, Beginners Mind and Everyday Zen(Love & Work)

Title: Zen Mind, Begginers Mind, by Shunryu Suzuki

When I read it for the first time: late 70s or early 80s and many times afterwards
Title: Everyday Zen (Love & Work), by Charlotte Joko Beck
When I read it for the first time: 1989

I followed Zen Buddhist practices for a decade in my 20s. I went on regular retreats and practiced daily. These two books were lifelines to hold onto during this spiritual journey. Admittedly, holding on to their words was not very Zen, but they comforted me.

Scary man wearing "Gorilla Biker" t-shirt

He empties his nose
On sidewalk while walking dog
Quickly close my eyes.

I am... a dancer

I love to dance. My parents loved to dance, and my (adult) children love to dance. Even though I do not dance around the apartment like I used to, I wonder if old age might be best experienced through dance. Perhaps I should occasionally allow myself the freedom of abandonment through motion.

Nerida and I were reminiscing early this morning about the years we were ballet dancers. There have been years when I do not look back at those times. It is as if it was another life.
Another reincarnation.

I have been talking about that time in my life with friends. It is hard to imagine how much dedication and discipline it took to become a professional dancer. Certainly, watching athletes perform during last month's Paris Olympics, triggered memories. 

The hardest thing to grasp is doing something with such
passion during my late childhood, throughout all my teen years, and then stopping suddenly in my early twenties, at my peak, as it were. 

I know why I chose to quit, which I won't go into here, but part of me regrets not continuing to dance for another few years. Had I done that, I probably would not have gone into engineering, and where would I be today without that?

So, back to the conversation with Nerida. She mentioned how good I was and how when we finished the bar exercises and came into the center exercises, I would smile and shine with such joy. I'd forgotten that feeling and was teary at the reminder of what drove my passion—why dance was/is what I love best.

(P.S. Julien, Nicola (a friend from Thailand), and I went to see an Ezra Collective concert in Hamburg. Definitely a highlight of this year.) 

#booksIlove: Turn

Title: Turn (the journal of an artist), by Anne Truitt
When I read it first: when it was first published 1986

One of Pat's great gifts was "discovering" writers whose lives were as fascinating as their writing. Anne Truitt was one of those discoveries. She was a sculpturer who wrote beautiful journals.

Browsing through the book this morning made me wonder whether I was the only person Pat knew to who she could send the book. I shared her obsession with such relatively obscure writers or artists. Truitt's meanderings or reflections drew me into her world and left me with wonder.

To my dear friend in need

In the cathedral 
Or a long walk in nature 
My thoughts are with you.

In the midst of my garden

A butterfly bush
With royal purple blossoms 
Nector of the gods.

#booksIlove: Good on the Rocks

Title: God on the Rocks, by Jane Gardam
When I read it: early mid 80s

Jane Gardam was a prolific writer. At 96, she still seems to be alive. She wrote until her mid-80s. Good for her!

Pat loved all of her work. She was an Anglophile, and writers such as Gardam were the clotted cream to her scones.

Construction starts next week

Muffled world outside
Netting in front of windows
Inside a cacoon. 

#booksIlove: A Country Year

Title: A Country Year (Living the Questions), by Sue Hubbell
When I read it: early mid 80s and a few times more

It is hard to describe this book because it threads various storylines throughout, but they are hidden and quietly, slowly explored. The framework is life on a small farm in the Ozarks, Missouri. Sue Hubbell brilliantly explores the changing seasons and her existence over a year.

The book is auspiciously a nature book, but what I found more fascinating is how she manages to share her journey of discovery with the reader. Her marriage of 30 years has broken up, and she has to decide whether she will continue to live on the farm that was a shared existence. She explores whether she can claim or build a new life rather than daily grieve a life that no longer exists. 

Pinching myself to see if it is true

Since retirement
Always check my calendar
Lots of emptiness.

Rushing to the train station

Stumbling along 
I have a broken suitcase
Story of my life.

#booksIlove: An Interrupted Life

Title: An Interrupted Life (The Diaries Of Etty Hillesum 1941-43), by Etty Hillesum

When I first read it: in the mid 80s and in stops and starts throughout my 20s and 30s

Hillesum's diaries witness her journey on a spiritual path interwoven with the treads of social turmoil and terror of the Nazi invasion and occupation of the Netherlands during WWII.

This book, as well as Oliver Messiaen's Quartet For The End Of Time, gave me a sliver of understanding of how humans can survive such atrocities.

I am... a mentor

In forty years of working as a trainer and (agile) coach in various German companies, I have often been asked whether I would be willing to be a mentor. Usually, I was the only woman and foreigner in my department, so it is not surprising that those who asked for mentorship were often women and/or foreigners. Strictly speaking, my mentorship did not focus on opening new doors for the mentees, but acting as a sounding board.

Women and foreigners generally lack what Germans call Vitamin B. 'B' stands for Beziehung, or personal relationships or a strong network of people who are willing to help advance your career. It is almost impossible to break into the Old (White) Boys' networka that rule in most German organizations or corporations. I've only known a handful of women, two or three foreign men, and three foreign women (Shoutout to Charlotte, Dagmara, and Marine, whose tenacity in this high-stakes game has been nothing short of inspirational) who have managed to pursue a successful and dynamic career within German companies.

So, when I say I am a mentor, it is a matter of helping them get an invitation to an interview, negotiating better contracts or salaries, or coming up with strategies for moving up one or two steps on the executive ladder. Once or twice in recent years, I have delighted in helping a mentee realign their career paths. It is exciting to accompany someone transitioning from one industry or field to another.

What I like about being a mentor is seeing a mentee become serious and intentional about their careers. It is a process of supporting them while they make their dreams come true. Even having a dream is a rare thing for those whose otherness have been stripped of ambitions. Each success story is a testament to the quiet power of resilience and a reminder that even in the most rigid systems, change isn't just possible—it's inevitable.

A lesson in how nature works

Out of my window
Baby pigeon stands all day
It's waiting to fly.

#booksIlove: Four Quartets

Title: Four Quartets by T.S. Elliot
When did I first read it: incessantly during the late 70s and beginning of the 80s 

This book (four poems) transformed my life much like The Book of Ebenezer Le Page did. It made me believe that the world I lived in was larger than what I had been told it was. I read the poems over and over again, and I even bought the audiobook of Elliot reading them.

His voice was mesmerizing, both deeply present and deeply detached. I would not have understood his work without listening to the cadence of his words.

When I now read excerpts of his work 45 years later, the voice inside my head and the drum of my heart finds a dear friend with every turn of the page.

A good week of good news

Tano got a job
Kay won, at last, her court case
Now I celebrate. 

#booksIlove: The Book of Ebenezer Le Page

Title: The Book of Ebenezer Le Page, G.B. Edwards
When I first read it: when it came out in 1981 and a thousand times since

This in another book that Pat gifted me that in some microscopic way transformed my life and they way I thought of life. It is a brilliant story told by someone who was a master observer and storyteller. 

The fact the book was published posthumously is tragic as it is beautiful. Gerald Basil Edwards never received the acknowledgment he deserved. 

Chewing gum

Many years ago, I went to pick up Julien at the kindergarten. He said he was really hungry, so I gave him two pieces of gum to chew. (I do not remember if it was the first time I gave him gum.) I was hoping the gum would keep him quiet until we got home.

And it worked! He didn't make one peep the whole way home. When I went to take him out of the children's bicycle seat, I flew him around in a circle before putting him on the ground. Instead of looking happy, he looked distraught.

When I asked him what was wrong, he cried out. The gum was now stuck together. All the way home, he had chewed one of the pieces of gum on the left and the other on the right. He didn't know they were meant to chew together. No wonder he wasn't able to talk to me.

I gave him a big hug and brought him upstairs for a snack.

#booksIlove: children's books

Pat was an Anglophile. She loved everything that came out of Britain. Not so much Ireland, except for their writers.

Throughout our childhood, we were inundated with books written by British writers, such as Winnie-the-Pooh, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Railway Children, and The Swallows and Amazons series. (I read them over and over again.) If you looked at our bookshelves during our childhood, they were all British authors, except for the Anne of Green Gables series.

As an adult, I have always wondered why she gave us these series rather than children's books by American writers*. I made up a complicated explanation: it had to do with her disparaging anything American. Recently, I finally figured it out. The British series were children's books from her childhood. That's all.

Like many parents, she wanted to share her childhood with us.

(* I only discovered the Little Life on the Prairie series when my dear friend, Karen, told me about them when I was an adult.)

#booksIlove: Running in the family

Title: Running in the family, by Michael Ondaatje
When I read it first: during the phase I was quite obsessed with him in the 1980s

Running in the Family is the perfect book for anyone who dreams of life in exotic countries farfar away in other times. Those of you who (half-) lived in smoldering suburbs or small-town insignificance, like I did, will be enthralled with Ondaatje's autobiography.

It reads simply and powerfully. It is as if Ondaatje was always a great writer, a force to reckon with, even at the beginning of his career. He took a pause in his fiction writing and looked at himself and his family through that rarified lens of his creative soul.

I envy anyone who has not gone down the rabbit hole of his writings. What a discovery that is! I remember pacing myself with his books, not wanting them to come to an end. There was a part of me that wanted to wolf them down in one swallow, but thankfully, there was also another part of me that wanted to slowly savour every word separately.

Not your strong suit

I am reading "Falling through space" again. In one of her entries, Ellen Gilchrist writes about spending a day taking care of her two young grandchildren. She only manages half a day before enlisting her mother into battle. 

It is a very light, self-depreciating piece. At the end she ponders on the day and asks her mother how she (Ellen) managed to keep care of her kids day-in-day-out. Her mother dryly answers that she (Ellen) was never good at it. It was not her strong suit.

I wonder if any of us feel that mothering was our strong suit. Probably not. Not if we are honest with ourselves. 

Delighting in summer

Cannot stop myself
Beautiful taste to my tongue
Caramel ice cream. 

My cabin in the woods (2/2)

Daylight does not trumpet in with the sharp blues of passing clouds. It is the shades and shadows dancing across green leaves and moss that catch my attention. It is the changing browns of branches and tree trunks holding all the weight of pouring rains. There is no silence, yet there comes a pure stillness of mind and body.

Jetlag

Middle in the night
2 am and I'm awake
To rewire my brain. 

#booksIlove: Falling through space

Title: Falling through space, Ellen Gilchrist

When I first read it: when it first came out in 1987

Another author Pat gifted me. Pat always said she loved Gilchrist because she epitomized all that was wonderful about writers from the South (southern States). Gilchrist is a master in exploring the niceties and complexities of southern etiquette, all the while injecting moments of earthy vulgar brilliant humor. 

Falling through space is a journal. It is a stunning and insightful work. Yet, everything she wrote is worth reading.

Past love

A dream so vivid
One leaf in my memory
Sadly, it is gone.

Animals we saw

Reflecting on the various animals we saw over the last two weeks or so: 3 deer, 2 loons, 3 bald eagles, numerous turkey vultures and great blue herons, slew of seagulls and smaller birds (sorry no names), dragonflies, and the most beautiful hummingbirds, 2 dead snakes, and one swimming snake.

We almost saw bear and elk; only because we saw their poop.

#booksIlove: Teaching a stone to talk

Title: Teaching a stone to talk, Annie Dillard

When I read the book for the first time: 1982

This is a collection of ideas from Annie Dillard. On the back cover it says, this book "explores the world of natural facts and human meanings". The entries are nothing other the the meanderings of a creative Geist.

Annie Dillard is one of the many marvelous authors that Pat introduced me to. She "discovered" Dillard early on in her writing career and shared with me all of her works. You can read anything and everything she's written and you will find delight.

My cabin in the woods (1/2)

 

I wake with the dawn

The soft greens are murmuring

Psalm to joyful day.

#booksIlove: the Millennium trilogy

The whole original series by Stieg Larsson was shrouded in mystery. He appeared out of the blue with all three books more or less complete and then disappeared, unfortunately dying before the books were published.

The stories are dark and often violent, which is not something I normally enjoy, yet they are riveting. It is mainly the Lisbeth Salander character that I am enthralled with. I read the series (but skip over the worst parts) every year or two and feel that they have travelled well in time.

Then there is the story of Stieg Larsson's partner, Eva Gabrielsson, who insists she is a co-writer of the series and goes into a court battle with Larsson's family. Was she, was she not, what will happen? All very mysterious.