Author: Daniela Ginta Page 94 of 99

The house I grew up in had a big yard with lots of fruit trees, a vegetable garden, a beautiful flower garden with alleys and a nice old and solid bench right under a grapevine where my parents would have their afternoon coffee and chat. There were lilacs and berry bushes with bugs which were, in my opinion back then, the happiest bugs on the planet. And then there were these quince trees, three of them, with low enough branches for me to climb on and comfortable enough to sit there and read for hours. And think. And hide, whenever I did not feel like playing with my sister and my friends. Hiding there in that green bubble of warmth to think about stuff was and still is one of my best memories. My green safe bubble is long gone but my knowing that sometimes I need to take time off from playing is a certitude that will stay with me.

So that’s what I did, as the end of the summer was slowly approaching, I hid for a bit in a different kind of a bubble. In other words, I honoured my gut feeling, which I discussed in an older post. Staying put, in my bubble of quietness. Thinking of life and its complicated ways. Writing, caring for my boys, reading, running and biking. Taking a break to watch life and wait for the day when I would feel ready to jump in and write thoughts down in my blog again. And the day has come. Today.

What have I learned? Writing in my blog not because I have to but because I want to shows respect towards myself and others too. Writing in my blog for the pleasure of sharing thoughts and ideas, opening the windows of my heart and mind to the world should always add to its wondrous nature and not take anything away from it.

Without a shadow of guilt for taking time to enjoy quietness, I am once again opening the door, saying hello and feeling the breeze… good to see you, and thank you for sticking around.
 

Do you have projects that you have yet to finish? Come on, moment of truth. I do. Not one, but many. I have essays I started a long time ago, and then I put them in the “work in progress” folder. Yes, I have one of those and I might as well rename it ‘never to be finished stuff” because at the rate I am going it feels that way. I go there like one goes into a museum in an old town where there are some interesting things to see but same old same old, nothing new for ages. And then I have stories I started writing and said I will finish the next day, and the day never came. And I have photographs I have yet to organize and … yes, a long long list.

Let’s face it, there will always be something unfinished and that’s just fine. A writer needs a folder of drafts that will sit there like somewhat lost, yet still hopeful travelers waiting for the inspiration train to take them along. I don’t think I will ever be so organized to not have any unfinished projects. Nor do I want to, quite frankly. But too many get my stomach in knots more than I care to admit. Now they are all organized into “unfinished projects I want to deal with” and “unfinished projects I will let be”.

OK, so we have named the problem. If you can relate, let’s roll and find a solution for the “unfinished projects I want to deal with”. Here’s my plan, nothing fancy or I’ll get lost again:

• Keep the projects that I intend to finish. That means, no mercy. Taking a look at each and every one of them and discard the hopeless ones.
• Take one project a day or one weekly for the big ones and deal with it.
• If it becomes a hopeless one as I go, admit it, toss it and move on.

Will it work? I don’t know, but I’ll do my best. And if it worked before, it will again. There is something so very satisfying and addictive about a job well done, don’t you agree?

Ready to give it a try? 
 

 My youngest son is four. And always looking for something spectacular to add to his games. The recycling bin is his latest treasure box and who can blame him really? A small piece of paper becomes a map and a jar could be anything from a spaceship to a dog house. A couple of days ago he picked a medicine container with a childproof cap. He asked me to open it, I said it can’t be done. Did I have a reason to say no? Not a solid one anyway. I just figured that opening a medicine container, even though empty might not be the right kind of thing to teach a four-year-old. Well, he insisted. And then insisted again. And I said it can’t be done, I showed him how it’s stuck. He spent another five minutes or so turning it upside down and sideways and then he came to me with his eyes beaming. “You have to push it down first!” he said with a victorious smile. Go figure!
He earned the container and some good old solid self-confidence I am sure. And he taught me three very important lessons:

1.    Never give up. No matter what others say, never give up if you believe it can be done.
2.    Some things may take time to figure out but perseverance pays off. Always.
3.    Assume nothing if you want to make things happen. That simple.

Children are amazing, aren’t they? We all were once, you know…
 

I like writing. Quite obvious by now really. And while I did write for publications for a while and sent my work out confidently, it took a great leap of courage to write a blog. Because my thoughts were “what if people won’t like what I have to say?” and “what if my writing creates a stir I am not prepared for?”. So after a few “breathe in, breathe out” sessions and hearing some convincing arguments from people who were already out there, I did it. I jumped in with both feet. And I loved it! There was freedom and a yet unmatched exhilarating feeling. Lightness like I never felt before. I left my nagging thoughts behind, and promised to never let them in if they happen to visit again.

So I have my blog now. I write in it because I want to share the things I see and feel, and often times I want to acknowledge special people. I also write because I have questions. Sometimes the answers come as I write, many times they don’t. They hide in a place where they feed on past and present and grow strong enough to come out and show themselves when I least expect it. I had many “a-ha” moments since I started writing a blog. They are something you don’t want to miss, I promise. Now I know that by letting others hear my music I can actually hear it better too. Letting others hear this music, my music, is one of the most liberating things I’ve done lately. So if I create a stir, and hopefully I do, I can only hope it’ll be a good one. A worthy one. For you, the listener. No promises, though. except for one: I’ll keep it real.

So try it. Whether you write your thoughts in a blog or just share them as such with people around you, do it. Be real. Because this is as real as it gets. Rewarding and humbling at the same time in a very special way too.
 

You have a choice to smile or frown. I was reminded of choices today after I smiled at an elderly gentleman who was walking in the opposite direction. He smiled back and then he stopped to thank me for a nice smile that made his day, he said.

You have a choice in everything you do. You have a choice to wake up and put a smile on your face or you have the choice to start your day grumbling and expecting yet another Golgotha.

You have a choice to help someone, whether directly or indirectly, or you have the choice to turn a blind eye.

You have the choice to create change, whether in a small or big way, or you have the choice to leave this place as if you never existed.

You have the choice to act on your beliefs or grow frustrated over the years because you could’ve created opportunities to act on your beliefs and you didn’t.

You have a choice to choose the direction you want to go or let others choose that for you.

You have a choice to live fully or just be a spectator of your own life.

You have choices. Always. Just as long as you know…
 

My mom was special. Very much so. I know, most moms are. But you see, my mom gave me this amazing gift. She told me repeatedly that if there is something I really want to do in life, I can do it. Just like that. One of her favourite memories of me was about how determined I was to learn to walk, by myself, with no helping adult around, at 10 months of age. And I loved to hear that story over and over when I was little and as an adult too.

My mom is no longer around, unfortunately, but her words are. She told me that I can. It took many years for me to realize what a great gift I got from my mom. Simple words, yet so powerful. Here is an example: I recently completed my second duathlon quite successfully. My training for this one was minimal – not by choice – which many might say is a sure recipe for disaster, and I would not dare say otherwise. Yet my determination and will to do it and do it right were strong. And I did it! And that got me thinking.

Words have power. What are you telling your kids? Do you congratulate them for every little accomplishment or do you just tell them they can do anything they put their their minds to and that’s that? And here is the tricky question: Do you actually believe they can do it or are you simply saying it because that’s how you were told self-esteem works? You see, I now understand why my mom’s words were always so powerful and still are. Because she really believed I could do it, whatever the “It” was. She enjoyed my accomplishments, modest or otherwise, in a very natural, unassuming manner that said “I knew you could do it”. Her belief built the most solid foundation for my self-confidence. A much needed foundation.

Words are powerful. Especially when coming from people who mean everything to you. Especially when you mean everything to someone else. Your children. Some of the words you say to your children will be staying with them forever. Make sure you choose the right ones. You don’t have to search high and low or read tomes on the subject. They are in your heart, waiting to come out.

 Words can change someone’s world. Whose world are your words changing? Are you changing it for the better? You should. You can.
 

I was hanging out with my boys at my favourite “feel just right” place – the river banks, and after a couple of hours of just the three of us, a little boy comes there and starts drawing a rather intricate something in the sand. A lot of work. Very close to the water. Where the waves from boats passing by come and dance, erasing everything and carrying sticks and rocks into the river. So I almost felt like telling him that the drawing might not last, thinking he’ll be disappointed if the water erased it. And I didn’t. Because he was so focused on drawing and he was enjoying it so much, it almost seemed sacrilegious to do so. And then it made sense. He wasn’t thinking that his drawing should last, and most likely he wasn’t planning on maybe coming back tomorrow to see if it was still intact. He was immersed in the moment, savouring every second and enjoying playing in the sand. There was no worrying about anything else. He was happy. Just like most of us when we were kids and doing just that: living the moment. But we’re adults now and somehow we forgot to do that.

Now of course adulthood is a bit of a complicated business. Try as we may, we cannot ignore that planning for the future and thinking ahead are necessary skills we adults have to develop as we go or else. Even more so when we become parents. It’s called responsibility. And it’s part of life.

But here is an exercise you may want to try occasionally: Live in the moment. Immerse yourself in that moment and sing, dance, laugh and cry with it. Live it fully and don’t think about the next three steps. Just let your senses soak everything in. It could be watching the clouds move over the face of the moon or climbing trees with your children, dancing with your loved one or reading a book. It could be many other things. Living the moment will trigger memories and thoughts that will take your whole being for a spin. Enjoy it. It’s not everyday living, it could not be, and that’s just fine. Just moments here and there. Enjoy their elusive yet captivating nature and live them fully. Your grown-up status will stay untouched, I guarantee it. You’ll be happier though and might even smile more, if you are willing to take such risks, that is.

Promise you’ll try. At least once.