I am an eternal optimist, or perhaps just a master of
denial, which is why it has taken me until mid-October to realize the now undeniable truth.
Summer is over.
Even though “fall” started several weeks ago, with the
beginning of the school year and its accompanying early mornings and daily
routines, the spirit of summer lingered deep into the late September air. The
transition to shorter days and cooler nights was made a touch easier by several
gloriously sunny weekends that invited us to play outside, and a few evenings
still fair enough to sit on a riverside terrace sipping a white beer. And each
time we enjoyed one of these bursts of unexpected warmth, it was a gift
intensely enjoyed, a moment that could not be passed up, as if there was this
urgency that time was running out, that soon enough all this summerness would dry
up and disappear.
While yesterday was another one of these unexpectedly warm days, the truth is that a few days ago, I caught a glimpse of
frost on my bathroom window, and last week, I saw my breath on my early morning
ride to school. I felt that all too familiar shiver up my spine brought on by a
cold that I am certain is here to stay, and I realized I had no choice but to stop
layering sweaters and scarves and raincoat shells and start wearing my
official autumn jacket.
I will admit that, as I pulled that coat off of its hanger,
and wrapped myself in a scarf, I stomped my feet a little and threw a tiny,
private tantrum. With flailed arms and furrowed eyebrows, I declared for all the
world to hear, “But I don’t want
summer to end. I’m not ready.”
And I didn’t want it to end because it was probably the most
perfect summer I can remember. Truly, the best summer ever! I unintentionally adopted
the role these last few months of a “hedonist in training”. My summers of the
past have always been full and often fantastic, but they have usually been
marked by an intentional flavour- things to do, people to see, places to go. Go
go go. This, however, was the summer of la dolce far niente, of waking up
whenever and doing whatever, just wondering and wandering.
Even though I did a little bit of work, tutoring students a few hours a week,
the rest of my time was filled to overflowing with afternoon naps in the sun,
picnics in the park, barbeques, day trips, late late late nights, tipsy
giggling, dancing and dancing and more dancing, moonlit skinny dipping,
beautiful new friendships, strengthened relationships with faithful friends and
family, interesting conversation with strangers, parties, sleepovers,
spontaneity, epiphanies, adventures, pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure.
Pure bliss.
Pursuing happiness and enjoying life are newly adopted
values of mine. For most of my life, my decisions about how to spend my time
have been largely rooted in very purposeful values such as being productive,
making a difference, contributing to society, bettering myself, being good, seeking balance.
While these values have merit and remain important to me, they can be awfully
weighty when implemented on a full-time basis. Living deliberately always, with
these values as the guide, can sometimes be overwhelming, even exhausting. It
was nice to step away from all that for a little while and instead practice the
art of simply enjoying life. Limburg is a good place to do that- genieten van
het leven, or enjoying life, is a strong cultural value here.
All that to say that while I think I may have aged a little
from this summer, and I doubt I will ever fully recover from the sleep
deprivation I experienced, it was all well worth it!
The interesting thing is that in spite of not being
intentionally in pursuit of becoming a better me, of learning important lessons,
of growing, I still exit these summer months with a beautiful collection of
truths. I enter the fall changed, healthier, happier, ready-er.
So now, for a short
little reflection on the summer: my realizations, lessons learned, epiphanies,
and general observations….
1. I consistently overpack. Whether it’s a weekend getaway
or a two-week camping trip, I inevitably bring twice as much as I need. What
can I say? I dress according to mood, I like to keep my options open, and I
want to be ready for any occasion- the possibility (however unlikely) of
wanting to go for an early morning run, the chance of meeting a charming new
gentleman friend desperate to take me to dinner, tea with the queen, a wedding,
a funeral. I mean, you never know, right? I used to feel a bit of holiday shame
about my tendencies towards overpacking, as real travelers know how to keep it
simple, but now I figure that as long as I’m strong enough to carry my own
suitcase, then, well, whatever.
2. Good friends tell you when you have a mile-long chin hair that
is only visible in the bright afternoon sun. Really good friends grab a pair of
tweezers and yank it out for you.
3. I fall in love easily and frequently. While in Naxos, I
pretty much fell in love with someone new each and every day. I fell in love
with the boys at the Waffle House who provided me with unparalleled ice cream
pleasure almost each night after dinner. I fell in love with Petros, the short, stocky, bald jewellery maker, partially because he gave me a “discount” on
earrings simply because they looked so fabulous on me (yes, I am choosing to
believe he doesn’t say that to all the girls), but mainly because he was so
proud of his family’s work and passionate about his craft. I fell in love with
the man who sold me peaches at the market. And I almost fell in love with the
waiter who said, “Let me order for you. Trust me.” Then, in Norway, I
experienced a brief but significant crush on the adorable young baker who sold
me freshly baked sourdough bread.
And while there are a number of gentlemen here who give me a flutter in my belly simply because of their charming smile or way with words or hearty laugh, the truth is that if I am to look for a theme among my crushes, it seems that what
pulls me in is often committed and passionate artistry. Now, I have long sworn
off- by order of close friends and family- artists and musicians, as I seem to
be a sucker for wanting to nurture their potential, and coax their
misunderstood souls to a place of productivity. But there is something very different
between an artist and an artisan. I suppose I am just impressed and inspired by
someone who devotes so much time and energy into perfecting their craft. Also, it
is quite possible that I am a hybrid between a man and a magpie- the way to my
heart appears to be by feeding me delicious food or offering me things that are
shiny and pretty.
4. Norwegian men seem to have exceptionally large heads
(except, of course, for that adorable baker). An odd observation, I realize, but I am not the only one who noticed!!
5. One possible explanation for the Greek economic crisis
could be the fact that a trip to the emergency room, which involved a doctor
consult, a full battery of blood tests, at least three throwaway puke trays,
and several bags of various IV fluids, cost only a whopping 39 euros and 70
cents.
6. Dinnertime discussions in Greece led us to the proposal
that one potential means of rectifying the country’s economic crisis could
involve bringing a lawsuit against all those who falsely advertise their
yogourt as “Greek-style.” Absolutely nothing, after all, compares with the real
deal.
7. One of the most significant lessons of the summer was
learning how to externally attribute the behaviour of others. For most of my
life, I have made other people’s behaviour about me, believing that if they
didn’t like me, it must be because there is something wrong with me, something
I need to adjust, and if they were moody or angry or distant or rude, then- obviously-
it must have been provoked by something I had done. I finally figured out this
summer that the actions and reactions of the people around me have surprisingly
little to do with me. I am not that important. Go figure! This, of course,
proved to be most significant in terms of how I interact with men. Being able
to not take rejection or a lack of interest or mixed messages personally,
realizing that a guy’s response to me is a combination of a whole host of
factors- his own patterns, history, issues, values, boundaries- helped put
things into perspective, and allowed me to feel significantly better about
myself. I suppose what this really means is that one of the final pieces in my
healing puzzle- a healthy and solid sense of self, defined by ME, and nurtured
by those who know me and love me- has at long last securely fit into place.
8. This also means that my desperate desire to be the
favourite and the best, liked by everyone, hated by none, has largely dissipated.
Before, if someone didn’t like me, I struggled to adjust myself and my
behaviour in order to accommodate them, in order to make them like me. What do
I need to do, I would wonder, to make you want to be my friend- sing, dance,
juggle, tell jokes, cook you dinner, give you a back rub, ask more
questions, laugh more, laugh less, talk more, talk less, dye my hair, speak Pig
Latin, invent a secret handshake? I realize that this concern with others
liking me is more than a bit ridiculous and seems to be the struggle of a
fourteen year old girl, not a 34 year old woman. This is something I should
have overcome long long long ago, but this delayed development can be
attributed, I think, to the struggle of solidifying a scattered sense of self,
one of the most significant and enduring leftovers of heartache and broken
relationship. What a giant relief it is to know that I no longer need to allow
every opinion of every person I encounter to impact my value judgments about my
choices and my character. I am strong enough now to determine whose opinions to
consider and whose to toss aside.
9. Part of my often baffled reaction to someone being
lukewarm towards me is connected to the interesting truth that I do actually
generally like most people. For some reason, it is relatively easy for me to
see the good in others, to recognize their potential, and to understand the human
disconnect between intention and reality. I make great efforts to give others
the benefit of the doubt, and I tend to offer many chances for people to make another first
impression. I feel uncomfortable with the idea of disliking someone. This is
just how I am built, I suppose, but it might also have to do with being the
daughter of a pastor, as it was often my task in church to befriend the new kid,
whether or not we felt an instant click. And when I encounter someone and don’t
feel that click, I am desperate to give it another go, desperate to overcome the guilt I feel for not wanting to get to know them better. Sometimes, in this very
counterintuitive way, I often even try harder to make it work, overcompensating
with invitations and attention, all in the spirit of a second chance at
finding the elusive click, which really is unnecessary and kind of ridiculous.
While I can’t say I have become significantly better at being
okay with disliking people, I did learn something very very important this
summer, which is that it actually isn’t necessary to evaluate every person I
meet and place them in the category of “like” or “dislike.” Apparently, what
many people do- and I am giving this a try- is simply have a neutral reaction
to a new acquaintance. It is possible to meet someone and leave it at that,
without the need to determine if they are good or bad, whether I like them or I
don’t like them, whether they will be my new BFF or the enemy I gossip about.
They can just float around in this neutral category, free of opinion or
judgment. What a concept! Again, what a relief to be free from not only trying
to like everyone, but of even having to go through the evaluative process. This
makes things significantly simpler.
10. The best way to build relationship, to make memories, to
heal hearts, to learn the truth, to have a laugh, is to leisurely share a meal
together. Food connects people. Food and wine solidifies the connection. Food
and wine and music bonds people for life.
And finally….
11. I am simply a better human being when the sun is shining
and there is a glass of wine in my hand.
8 )
No comments:
Post a Comment