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| Close up image of sacred garland, Kolkata |
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Who are you out there?
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| Early morning sun through my bedroom window |
But I often think it would be nice to know something of whoever else is out there checking in regularly or from time to time. Even if just for today, will you introduce yourself and say a little something?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
What happened on this morning's walk . . .
Further along, as I walked through campus, I saw a pale, chubby young man sitting on a bench by the lockers near the library. He was hunched over, biting into a sandwich. As I passed, I said "Good morning." He looked up and said "Good morning."
At that moment, I heard something in me say "Have a successful day". I didn't consciously think those words, yet it was my own voice saying them to the young man. My momentum kept me walking forward, but I felt an irresistible pull to go back to him.
When he saw that I had turned back and was heading straight in his direction, he stopped chewing and looked momentarily scared. I suppose in this day and age . . . quiet young man alone on an empty campus, early morning, strange woman turns and heads directly for him. What weapon does she have tucked in her track pants?
He dropped his defenses when I smiled and spoke. "I came back to tell you that I hope you have a successful day."
Immediately his presence changed. He straightened up, burst into a massive smile and said "Thank you!" I saw and felt him glowing brightly. The hunched man furtively biting into his breakfast was gone.
"Is there something important about today for you?" I asked him.
He thought for a while: "No. Today isn't really important."
"Well, it is," I said. "Every day is."
"True," he said.
We smiled and parted.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The things we take for granted
How long does it take you to inhale slowly to the fullest capacity of your lungs? Before reading on, try it now—inhale slowly and count slowly while doing so. What number did you reach? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? More? Now scroll down and read the rest of this post.
Inhale for 20 seconds (through the nostrils)
Hold for 20 seconds
Exhale slowly for 20 seconds (through the nostrils)
Because of his difficulty in breathing, he told me he couldn't do twenty seconds. I explained that not everyone could at first, but eventually they are able to build up to it as their lung capacity expands.
I suggested ten seconds. He shook his head.
I suggested five seconds. He shook his head.
I suggested three seconds. He hesitated, shrugged and said "Okay, I'll try."
We inhaled together for three seconds, held for three, exhaled for three. His face lit up. "Let's go again."
After the second time he paused and said: "You know . . . something feeling different already." His eyes were glinting with excitement.
The third time, I almost cried when I saw pride and victory sweeping across his face as he realised he could make it to three seconds consecutively. Something that most of us take for granted—our ability to inhale and exhale without even thinking—could be the climbing of Mount Everest for someone else.
How many other things do we take for granted?
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On Tuesday afternoon I met a man who has a terminal lung condition. In conversation, it came up that I teach yoga. This led to me telling him about the One Minute Breath:*
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Inhale for 20 seconds (through the nostrils)
Hold for 20 seconds
Exhale slowly for 20 seconds (through the nostrils)
Because of his difficulty in breathing, he told me he couldn't do twenty seconds. I explained that not everyone could at first, but eventually they are able to build up to it as their lung capacity expands.
I suggested ten seconds. He shook his head.
I suggested five seconds. He shook his head.
I suggested three seconds. He hesitated, shrugged and said "Okay, I'll try."
We inhaled together for three seconds, held for three, exhaled for three. His face lit up. "Let's go again."
After the second time he paused and said: "You know . . . something feeling different already." His eyes were glinting with excitement.
The third time, I almost cried when I saw pride and victory sweeping across his face as he realised he could make it to three seconds consecutively. Something that most of us take for granted—our ability to inhale and exhale without even thinking—could be the climbing of Mount Everest for someone else.
How many other things do we take for granted?
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Fun things to do while walking. (Try it).
Yesterday afternoon I met a friend to go walking on campus. As we started out I said to her: "I'm going to give you a challenge. Tell the fifth person who approaches us: You look beautiful today."
At first she felt uncomfortable with the idea but eventually, after some prodding, agreed to give it a try. The fifth person was a young man in t-shirt and jeans. As he approached, all she could do was look at him and smile but the words wouldn't come out. Seeing her smiling at him, he said "Hello" and kept walking.
I had a good laugh, then asked for a "challenge" of my own. I was to say something in a foreign language to the 7th person to approach us. This turned out to be a large young man. I looked at him as he approached, smiled and said "Bon soir!" He looked back at me, but said nothing. Maybe he doesn't speak French.
Challenges after that included asking for directions to the Post Office (even though I know where it is) and saying various phrases of greeting or compliment. As I said to my friend, most people love to be acknowledged and addressed pleasantly, especially when they least expect it, from a cheerful stranger. Some people, mainly older people, were only too happy to respond with things like: "Oh, yes! It is a lovely evening for walking!" or "Yes, I am enjoying my walk!"
At one point a man was approaching us. As he neared, I said hello and, once he responded and I had his attention, I asked "So what's the best thing that happened to you today?"
"Jesus!!!!!" he cried out as though someone had slapped him. But he didn't mean that Jesus was the best thing that had happened. He meant it as a cry of helplessness. "Now DAT is a hard question!! Whey, boy!" He walked on a little bit, then turned his head back and said, "I'll have to think long and hard about that one."
That said a lot.
At one point on the walk, I said to my friend "Let's see how much we can pick up about a person as they approach us, from the way they walk, hold their bodies, etc. Let's take this woman approaching now."
Compared to everyone else in their jogging suits, track pants, t-shirts, she looked somewhat odd. She was a large woman somewhere in her 50's, wearing what appeared to be a loose, misshapen flannel nightgown and new track shoes. She had on no bra and her large, long breasts were bouncing against her torso. Her hair, even from a distance, was seen clearly as an unruly mop. My first thought was that she had escaped from an institution.
"Is it me or does she look a bit odd?" I said to my friend.
"Something doesn't look quite right," she agreed.
As we neared the woman, we both looked into her face. She looked back at us, gave us the warmest, most beautiful smile and said "Hello." All of a sudden her appearance disappeared and all we saw was her smile. Out of all the "normal-looking" people we had passed by or interacted with through our "challenges", she is the one who had greeted us in what felt like openness and sincerity.
We felt bad about having judged her by her appearance. Yes, she looked "odd" because of the nightgown . . . but what if it wasn't a nightgown? What if she had a medical problem and couldn't wear pants and decided to wear a jersey dress? What if she had on no bra because she was a free spirit or because for reasons unknown to us, she was unable to wear anything constricting in that area (plasters? injury?). What if she just didn't care what people thought once she was comfortable?
Toward the end of the walk I suggested we look at everyone we pass and find something beautiful about them. The first person was a female guard, sitting on a step. "This will be hard," my friend said. The guard had a hard, solemn face, but the first thing that struck me was how her legs were neatly crossed and her hands were clasped in her lap, almost in a sacred manner. As we neared, both looking into her face, she broke into a beautiful smile (eyes and mouth) that completely lit her up and transformed her appearance.
"Lovely smile!" my friend and I agreed as we walked on.
The next person had her back to us, but I saw her laughing and that was her beauty. She also had long legs that she elegantly folded as she got into the car.
The next person was a pudgy young woman in black/navy blue clothing. By looking at her we got a host of impressions: she was determined, focused, honest, she gives it to you as it is, no need for pretense, she's a good friend, she's serious about what she does, she's caring, she'd rather be alone than fake an interaction. She had lots of beauty to her.
It doesn't matter how someone looks. There is something beautiful about everyone. Based on appearances, we are all quick to judge someone, in some way, at some time, even if we don't mean to—due to stereotypes, social conditioning and association from past experiences. But give everyone a chance, be pleasant with them, and you will see who they are.
At first she felt uncomfortable with the idea but eventually, after some prodding, agreed to give it a try. The fifth person was a young man in t-shirt and jeans. As he approached, all she could do was look at him and smile but the words wouldn't come out. Seeing her smiling at him, he said "Hello" and kept walking.
I had a good laugh, then asked for a "challenge" of my own. I was to say something in a foreign language to the 7th person to approach us. This turned out to be a large young man. I looked at him as he approached, smiled and said "Bon soir!" He looked back at me, but said nothing. Maybe he doesn't speak French.
Challenges after that included asking for directions to the Post Office (even though I know where it is) and saying various phrases of greeting or compliment. As I said to my friend, most people love to be acknowledged and addressed pleasantly, especially when they least expect it, from a cheerful stranger. Some people, mainly older people, were only too happy to respond with things like: "Oh, yes! It is a lovely evening for walking!" or "Yes, I am enjoying my walk!"
At one point a man was approaching us. As he neared, I said hello and, once he responded and I had his attention, I asked "So what's the best thing that happened to you today?"
"Jesus!!!!!" he cried out as though someone had slapped him. But he didn't mean that Jesus was the best thing that had happened. He meant it as a cry of helplessness. "Now DAT is a hard question!! Whey, boy!" He walked on a little bit, then turned his head back and said, "I'll have to think long and hard about that one."
That said a lot.
At one point on the walk, I said to my friend "Let's see how much we can pick up about a person as they approach us, from the way they walk, hold their bodies, etc. Let's take this woman approaching now."
Compared to everyone else in their jogging suits, track pants, t-shirts, she looked somewhat odd. She was a large woman somewhere in her 50's, wearing what appeared to be a loose, misshapen flannel nightgown and new track shoes. She had on no bra and her large, long breasts were bouncing against her torso. Her hair, even from a distance, was seen clearly as an unruly mop. My first thought was that she had escaped from an institution.
"Is it me or does she look a bit odd?" I said to my friend.
"Something doesn't look quite right," she agreed.
As we neared the woman, we both looked into her face. She looked back at us, gave us the warmest, most beautiful smile and said "Hello." All of a sudden her appearance disappeared and all we saw was her smile. Out of all the "normal-looking" people we had passed by or interacted with through our "challenges", she is the one who had greeted us in what felt like openness and sincerity.
We felt bad about having judged her by her appearance. Yes, she looked "odd" because of the nightgown . . . but what if it wasn't a nightgown? What if she had a medical problem and couldn't wear pants and decided to wear a jersey dress? What if she had on no bra because she was a free spirit or because for reasons unknown to us, she was unable to wear anything constricting in that area (plasters? injury?). What if she just didn't care what people thought once she was comfortable?
Toward the end of the walk I suggested we look at everyone we pass and find something beautiful about them. The first person was a female guard, sitting on a step. "This will be hard," my friend said. The guard had a hard, solemn face, but the first thing that struck me was how her legs were neatly crossed and her hands were clasped in her lap, almost in a sacred manner. As we neared, both looking into her face, she broke into a beautiful smile (eyes and mouth) that completely lit her up and transformed her appearance.
"Lovely smile!" my friend and I agreed as we walked on.
The next person had her back to us, but I saw her laughing and that was her beauty. She also had long legs that she elegantly folded as she got into the car.
The next person was a pudgy young woman in black/navy blue clothing. By looking at her we got a host of impressions: she was determined, focused, honest, she gives it to you as it is, no need for pretense, she's a good friend, she's serious about what she does, she's caring, she'd rather be alone than fake an interaction. She had lots of beauty to her.
It doesn't matter how someone looks. There is something beautiful about everyone. Based on appearances, we are all quick to judge someone, in some way, at some time, even if we don't mean to—due to stereotypes, social conditioning and association from past experiences. But give everyone a chance, be pleasant with them, and you will see who they are.
Monday, November 8, 2010
How high does the poui tree grow?
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| Poui tree through my window |
This year a woman called me and said "It's that time of year again. Will you be a judge for us?"
I said yes.
On the day of the competition, last Thursday, I called Roger's cellular to ask him some details on the competition. His phone kept beeping and cutting off. I eventually I gave up and headed down to the Centre of Excellence (the competition venue).
I got there and, while greeting one of the other judges, looked to the stage. There was a huge mural of a poui tree with symbols of various elements around it, threatening its blossoming and growth: drugs, alcohol, AIDS, etc. Then, to the right, there was an image of Roger smiling. At first I thought "What's that doing there?" Maybe they chose to feature his image as the founder of the event?
But the image had the quality of those often seen in obituaries. I think something leaves an image when someone leaves this life.
I turned to the other judge and said, "Where's Roger?"
The look of shock in his eyes cannot be described. "You didn't know?" he whispered.
Before Roger died unexpectedly in April 2010, he had come up with a theme for this year's Facing Life (Ten) competition:
How high does the poui tree grow?
if you cut it down, you will never know ...
These borrowed sentences from a song mean a lot, particularly if we understand just how we 'cut it down'. We abort our plans, sometimes consciously in the interest of wise decision making, but sometimes plans are aborted, without thinking, by the choices we make in the interest of having a good time.
Some of the saws we use are alcohol and other drugs, compulsive sex, gambling, gluttonous eating, immodesty, violence, other anti-social behaviour or other demonstrations of ill health. We appeal to you to LET THE TREE GROW! Whether poui, mango or sycamore, grow to your full potential and reach your destiny.
(From the competition programme)
Rest in Peace, Roger.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Last words for Satya
A few months ago my friend Nicola in Peru sent me an email and cc'd someone (Satya Amrit Singh from Chile) whom she said I may want to be in touch with, as he is also a musician, composes music with Kundalini mantras and practices/teaches Kundalini Yoga.
Satya sent me a link to his music (please listen here), I sent him a link to mine and we exchanged a few emails, mainly about music and Kundalini Yoga. He was happy to know that his name was the same as the name of my laptop. He struck me as a gracious, honourable and friendly person. He had performed in a few places around the world and was saying that one day he would like to come to Trinidad to play.
After the first two or three emails we were not in touch for a long while. Just about two weeks ago I got an email from him saying he was in India at Miri Piri Academy. He asked me if I wanted to Skype. I sent him my Skype name but, being busy, did not get around to connecting immediately.
However, we managed to connect a day or two later. We spoke for a while about Kundalini Yoga, music, life, he told me about Miri Piri and I helped him to set up a Reverbnation account for his music. I couldn't stay long and, as we said goodbye, he told me that he hopes one day we will work on some music together.
Yesterday as I sat at Moksha waiting to go into the Tuesday yoga class, I got a call from my friend R whose son is studying at Miri Piri—to say that Satya was found dead in his room, cause unknown. So sudden, and unexpected to those who are left behind, yet for his soul, it was simply the time to go.
This letter on his Facebook page makes an official announcement of his passing.
Prior to our Tuesday class we chanted Akal (mantra for departed souls) for him. I didn't know him well or for long, but from our brief interactions, I could tell that he loved life, loved people and had no doubt touched many with whom he came into contact.
As I'm writing this and listening to his music, it strikes me—one day we are here, one day we are not. Who are we when we are here? Who are we when we leave and exist in the words and memories of others?
To his blood family, his Kundalini family and his network of loved ones, may you be granted Love, Strength and Peace that transcends the inexplicable suddenness of his passing.
Sat Nam
Satya sent me a link to his music (please listen here), I sent him a link to mine and we exchanged a few emails, mainly about music and Kundalini Yoga. He was happy to know that his name was the same as the name of my laptop. He struck me as a gracious, honourable and friendly person. He had performed in a few places around the world and was saying that one day he would like to come to Trinidad to play.
After the first two or three emails we were not in touch for a long while. Just about two weeks ago I got an email from him saying he was in India at Miri Piri Academy. He asked me if I wanted to Skype. I sent him my Skype name but, being busy, did not get around to connecting immediately.
However, we managed to connect a day or two later. We spoke for a while about Kundalini Yoga, music, life, he told me about Miri Piri and I helped him to set up a Reverbnation account for his music. I couldn't stay long and, as we said goodbye, he told me that he hopes one day we will work on some music together.
Yesterday as I sat at Moksha waiting to go into the Tuesday yoga class, I got a call from my friend R whose son is studying at Miri Piri—to say that Satya was found dead in his room, cause unknown. So sudden, and unexpected to those who are left behind, yet for his soul, it was simply the time to go.
This letter on his Facebook page makes an official announcement of his passing.
Prior to our Tuesday class we chanted Akal (mantra for departed souls) for him. I didn't know him well or for long, but from our brief interactions, I could tell that he loved life, loved people and had no doubt touched many with whom he came into contact.
As I'm writing this and listening to his music, it strikes me—one day we are here, one day we are not. Who are we when we are here? Who are we when we leave and exist in the words and memories of others?
To his blood family, his Kundalini family and his network of loved ones, may you be granted Love, Strength and Peace that transcends the inexplicable suddenness of his passing.
Sat Nam
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
I am/you are the answer to someone's prayer
This morning when I woke up, the first thought in my head was: "What is success?"
Immediately following this was a slew of questions:
Is it owning a house?
Is it having a car?
Is it having a high paying job?
Is it having loads of money in my bank account?
Is it having a long term relationship?
Is it having fame?
Listing these items, I realised that I have none of them. I had a car, but I sold it a few months ago.
The only thing I "have" is myself.
In the eyes of the world, "success" is largely determined by material possessions. The bigger your house, car and salary, the more successful you are.
A short while after thinking this, I did sadhana, then went to check email. I sent a short email to a friend who had called me yesterday, to follow up on how she was doing. As I sent the email off, I unexpectedly burst into tears ... not of sadness, but of realisation. Someone had trusted me enough to reach out to me in her moment of despair and I was able to listen, understand and offer solutions. By the end of the conversation, her tears were laughter and her fear glimmered with hope.
As I came off the email, a voice within said: You are the answer to someone's prayer.
In that moment it struck me. How true! By simply being who I am and doing what I do, the lives of many are touched, even transformed. Sometimes I see it, sometimes they tell me, sometimes I don't even know. I'm not saying any of this in vanity -- simply recognition, acknowledgment and gratitude.
The same goes for you. Without knowing it most of the time, the simplest truth of who you are and how you do things has the power to touch, heal and transform others.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
In the eye of the beholder
One of the many dangerous uncovered manholes I met on my walk yesterdayIt's a long story as to why, yesterday I was in Santa Cruz market, wearing a white kurta top with fine gold embellishments, blue jeans and sneakers. Also a long story as to why I made a two hour trek from that point at the Croisée to St. Augustine. Let's call it a spontaneous moment. One that I enjoyed and found very enlightening and productive.
Along the way, I used the opportunity to take photos of the sidewalk and the dangerous manholes—for a project I decided to embark upon after I saw the elderly man fall into the manhole on Friday.
In Trinidad, whenever I am out somewhere taking photos of anything other than the traditional (posing people), citizens stop and ask: "Gayelle? TV 6?" FYI, one does not have to belong to a media house in order to be out in public with a camera.
There were times on my walk yesterday when I sensed cars slowing down, most likely wondering what a lone woman wearing a kurta top, jeans and sneakers was doing striding along in the hot sun, taking photos of manholes and garbage on the sidewalk. Maybe, to some of them, I appeared "mad".
There are some things I do/have done which, to me, are perfectly normal, but which some people question.
"What did you smoke?"
"You're crazy, yes!"
"Only you would do something like that!"
Super-conventional thinkers, is all I have to say.
As I passed La Joya and neared the silver bridge to Curepe, I saw a woman at the side of the road in front of me. She was casually dressed, but the way she furtively smoked her cigarette and looked shiftily at me made me feel that something wasn't quite right. As I got closer, she reached into the grass, quickly picked something up and dropped it into her market bag. I heard the thump of what I believed was a sizeable rock.
Immediately, what came to mind was a story a friend had told me the night before, after yoga. Some hoodlums had pelted a rock at her back as she and her then boyfriend escaped potential robbery by running down a track. The impact had drawn blood. Now, here I was, walking in front of this woman. If by chance she was a "madwoman", would she pelt the rock at me from behind? In the past, I, and others I have known, have experienced sudden erratic behaviour by people on the streets.
To be on the safe side, I quickly crossed the road and kept walking.
Later, talking to a friend on the phone, I told her of the woman and the rock and that the incident had made me think about how it is so easy to perceive someone as 'mad' even though they may not be.
My friend agreed. "What if she collects heart-shaped rocks and she was just picking one up at that moment?" she asked. "You would have done the same thing."
So true.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Yoko answered my question
When I had my first solo interactive multimedia exhibition in 2001, a Venezuelan girl who was there said to me "Your work reminds me of Yoko Ono's work." (She later sent me a set of postcards made by Yoko). I wasn't sure what she had meant by her comment until I went and looked up Yoko Ono.I love the fact that she does interactive work in the name of Peace and Love and spreading Positivity. Her concepts are extremely simple and powerful. I love the fact that she's just herself (what else can you be?) She's in her seventies and still making art and music, including dance hits that top the charts. Great also that even though she's "busy" and "famous", she is down to earth and takes the time to interact with people and personally answer questions.
Every Friday on Twitter, Yoko answers questions from people. I asked her one last Friday and she answered it!
(My questions)
How would you do your work on a global scale without having funding to manifest it? How would you spread it far & wide?
(Yoko's Answer)
You are doing it on a global scale. Hey, have you heard of the PEBBLE PEOPLE ? You are one of the PEBBLE PEOPLE. Just look up what that means.
The song Yoko topped the dance charts with is in support of gay marriage.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Sexaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
Heart-shaped stone in pavement on walk from market some days agoThis morning as I went for my walk I noticed a few men along the route staring at me with x-ray vision to penetrate clothing. This look is akin to a silent "pssssssssssssst". I kept walking, bought papers and began the trek back home.
On the way back I passed by the guard booth I pass every morning. The guard there has one of those faces with droopy, "bedroom" eyes and a mouth that looks like it's always ready to sweet- talk some woman. Kind of like how The Mighty Sparrow looks. He always says "Good morning" to me in a smooth, Cassanova-ish way. Nothing wrong with that if it's his manner. I always respond with "Good morning" and keep walking.
This morning as I passed by, he shouted out: Sexaaaaaaaaaaay!"
I walked on a few steps, stopped and wondered if to address it. A part of me thought "that's how he is and he didn't mean any harm by it". But the part of me that could not ignore it won over. I turned and went back to his booth. He came outside, smiling - maybe thinking I was coming back to chat him up.
"Hi," I said. "You know, I prefer if you just say good morning like you normally do."
He looked somewhat confused and said "Good morning."
"Not that anything is wrong with thinking "sexy", but don't call it out like that to women in the street. It doesn't show respect for us."
"Oh gorm, it does be in me from small!" he explained, a look of mild shock and embarrassment on his face. "But ... good morning. Good morning."
I told him good morning and went on my way.
Nothing wrong with looking and appreciating. Women are beautiful in all shapes and sizes, but we are not sex objects placed on earth for men's ogling and cat-calling pleasure. It's easy to ignore pssssssssssts and "sexaaaaaaays", especially as they don't hurt anyone physically, but at the end of the day, it's disrespectful and unfair. I've heard many women mention that they've stopped walking (basic right to exercise) because men along the way keep calling out to them and psssssssssssssssting. I myself have stopped walking at times or along certain routes to avoid this.
Recently some female friends of mine told me of things that happened to them when men "psssssssssssted" them and they ignored the men. One was chased by a man and pelted with stones for asking him to leave her alone when she was enjoying herself at the beach. One had a beer poured over her head for ignoring a man's "sweet talk", etc. And it really starts young, as evidenced by one acquaintance who was walking by some school children in a park and overheard one of the students say "Lewwe go play de rape game."
In response to what I'm saying here, some may comment: "Oh gorm, buh wha wrong wit she? Dat is how men does be!"
Others may say: "Be careful" or "You mustn't tell men things like that."
I think today is the last time I will say anything about it - whenever the situation arises (which it will, being in Trinidad). I'm not out on a crusade to transform men and I do understand that, due to the male ego, not everyone will take kindly to a female pleasantly requesting that they show respect for women.
As the guard said: "Oh gorm, it does be in me from small ..." This is the behaviour that many males learn as little boys, having had examples set by men around them who behave just like that or worse.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Worth watching ... and doing
Toward the end, check the question on the t-shirt of one of the megaphone men.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Some people are suspicious when given to
Extra Extra*
Driving back home with the extra Express, I was looking for someone on the road I could give it to, who might want it. The roads were strangely void of people until I came to the construction site which used to be the large field. Two workmen were getting out of a car. I slowed down near to them, held out the Express and said: "Hi, would you like a newspaper?"
The one closer to my car looked at me incredulously and laughed.
I said: "I bought it for the coconut vendor but he had one already, so it's an extra. You can have it if you want."
He looked suspicious. Was I giving him drugs?
He laughed again, almost nervously, and looked at his friend ... asking permission to accept the contraband. He then took the paper slowly from me and said: "No charge?"
"No," I said and I drove off.
It's not the first time I've experienced this. What makes some people suspicious or hesitant when someone (stranger or not) gives them something without wanting anything in return?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Welcome home, my friend
(From l. to r): Keshia A., Dara N. and Elspeth D. at our "2013 reunion" last year.*
Last night I went to meet my friend Keshia A at the airport. She flew in from Miami, as she does at least once or twice a year. She's already been here once for the year already. This time she'll be spending seven days.
We met when she had come here years ago as a Fulbright scholar to do research. She was living just across from the corner of my street. Once introduced, we quickly became main sidekicks and, to this day, she is one of my dearest friends, a sister and kindred spirit. There are just some people in life who instinctively and unquestioningly know, love, understand and support you fully for who you are - and she is definitely one of them.
She returns so often to TT because she fell in love with it while she was here. It resonates with her spirit and feels like 'home' in a way that her birthplace and the place where she lives and works (the US) does not.
Whenever she comes, it is inevitably a mutually fun and healing experience, full of magic, growth, excitement, great conversations, laughter, inspiration, realisation, adventures and more.
Let the good times roll ...
We met when she had come here years ago as a Fulbright scholar to do research. She was living just across from the corner of my street. Once introduced, we quickly became main sidekicks and, to this day, she is one of my dearest friends, a sister and kindred spirit. There are just some people in life who instinctively and unquestioningly know, love, understand and support you fully for who you are - and she is definitely one of them.
She returns so often to TT because she fell in love with it while she was here. It resonates with her spirit and feels like 'home' in a way that her birthplace and the place where she lives and works (the US) does not.
Whenever she comes, it is inevitably a mutually fun and healing experience, full of magic, growth, excitement, great conversations, laughter, inspiration, realisation, adventures and more.
Let the good times roll ...
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
'Knowing' 'Friends' in 'real' life
The Trini Blogger, Girlblue (who I've met in person a few times) wrote a post today that is so true. She mentions how she met up with a visiting Blogger and took him and his son up to Maracas for Bake & Shark ... then muses "Its funny though and made me think, we would go out of our way to visit with foreign blog type people but would rarely make the effort of meeting the local ones we read all the time, funny that. Ah well ..."
Hmmmmmmm. I guess a (prophet) Blogger isn't recognized in his/her own town.
Some TT bloggers are anonymous, so unless they reveal themselves to you, you may never know who they are. Maybe it's easier to take for granted that "so and so is from TT" and the place is so small that you're sure to bounce them up one day on the street or in the grocery (somewhere "mundane") ... or you've already seen them around, so it's nothing new and exciting to see or meet them 'in real life' ... (?)
Or maybe, for some, meeting 'in real life' takes away the mystery and allure ... either for the reader ... or for the Blogger him/her self, who finds it easier as an unknown name/face to be fully open about how he/she feels and who he/she is.
Some people 'know' others through their blogs, but never reveal who they are as readers or even that they read them (lurking or delurking is the lingo). So even if they 'know' you, you don't 'know' them. Sometimes I'll be out somewhere and someone I've never seen before will say to me: "Hi Elspeth, I enjoy reading your blog" ... and then we may talk for a while. We may never meet again (as much as we may), but I appreciate this whenever it happens.
I guess people have to be moved to do it - otherwise why do it?
Some time last year a young man came up to me at Movietowne and asked me if I was Elspeth. When I said yes, his face lit up and asked me what had become of the dreams. He told me he had been there the night I launched the Dream House Window Lamp and that it had been such a moving experience. He was one of the many who had placed a dream in the lamp and (not knowing all that I had done with it after) always wondered what had become of it. His excitement (when I told him the full story) made my hair raise. I'm so glad he came up to me and asked and that I was able to give him such good news.
Some people are afraid to come and talk to me. I know this because quite a few over time (even before I started blogging), when they've met me, have said that they always wanted to meet me or talk to me but were afraid to. There is no need to be afraid!
These days it's possible to hear someone say: "Yeah, I know John Smith. I read his blog every day" almost with the confidence of someone who says: "Yes, I know John. We played together as children, used to build club houses in the hedge, grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to school together, I was best man at his wedding, I was there when etc etc etc ..."
What is it to truly know someone?
This brings me to Facebook, myspace and all of these electronic 'social and business networking sites' where one can have hundreds and thousands of 'friends' and be very 'popular'. I don't know anyone 'in real life' who has hundreds and thousands of 'friends' (at least based on what I define a 'friend' to be). I'm not saying you can't make 'real' friends with someone you've encountered online, because I can surely say that I have made/met some ... and I know many others who have.
I think the word 'friend' is often sadly redefined in the cyberworld: someone who may know many things about someone, may 'talk' to him or her online through comments or whatever other technological mechanism, but may not really make the effort or have the desire to reach out and interact beyond that, in the flesh, even if it's possible.
I already know a few Bloggers in TT (... but I knew them before and they just also happen to blog). But have I met any new local ones? I don't think so, come to think of it. Could be that they are anonymous and I have met them but just don't know that I did? E.g. you could meet a Sally Singh (offline) who just doesn't mention that she's Trinicakes (online).
Actually, there is one Blogger I'd never met, whose blog I used to read (when she and her family were living in Trinidad): Karen of Chookooloonks. We met in person for the first time on the night I handed over the Soul Window before they relocated to Texas. It didn't feel like 'the first time'.
I've met a few foreign bloggers - either when I've traveled or when they've been here ... and it has always been a great experience. I haven't known them since childhood or been to school with them every day, but some connections don't need quantity of time in order to determine quality of experience and bond. We are all souls on a journey and it so happens that a modern invention called 'the internet' has enabled us to (re)connect, in ways that we may not have been able to otherwise, with souls who may be with us for the rest of our lives ... just as closely, or sometimes even more so, than those first met in flesh.
I also think of my 'offline' friends - those I feel I will know 'for ever'. I still have many old schoolfriends, but, for various reasons, we don't keep in touch that often. Only one of them has been with me since childhood (primary school) onwards on a daily (literally) basis. Sharms, if you're reading this, that's you. I think (apart from the times either one of us has been abroad studying or jaunting), we've spoken to each other every single day/night over two decades at least! We're always "checking in". My other main friends are people I've met within the past ten years or so - through yoga, (mainly, come to think of it), music, work, the environment or fate - and I feel as if I've known them all my life. They love me and appreciate me (and I them) and would do just about anything for me (and I for them).
But yes, this is an interesting phenomenon about which a lot more can be said ... 'Friends' and 'knowing' and blogging and meeting (or not) - whether here or there.
Hmmmmmmm. I guess a (prophet) Blogger isn't recognized in his/her own town.
Some TT bloggers are anonymous, so unless they reveal themselves to you, you may never know who they are. Maybe it's easier to take for granted that "so and so is from TT" and the place is so small that you're sure to bounce them up one day on the street or in the grocery (somewhere "mundane") ... or you've already seen them around, so it's nothing new and exciting to see or meet them 'in real life' ... (?)
Or maybe, for some, meeting 'in real life' takes away the mystery and allure ... either for the reader ... or for the Blogger him/her self, who finds it easier as an unknown name/face to be fully open about how he/she feels and who he/she is.
Some people 'know' others through their blogs, but never reveal who they are as readers or even that they read them (lurking or delurking is the lingo). So even if they 'know' you, you don't 'know' them. Sometimes I'll be out somewhere and someone I've never seen before will say to me: "Hi Elspeth, I enjoy reading your blog" ... and then we may talk for a while. We may never meet again (as much as we may), but I appreciate this whenever it happens.
I guess people have to be moved to do it - otherwise why do it?
Some time last year a young man came up to me at Movietowne and asked me if I was Elspeth. When I said yes, his face lit up and asked me what had become of the dreams. He told me he had been there the night I launched the Dream House Window Lamp and that it had been such a moving experience. He was one of the many who had placed a dream in the lamp and (not knowing all that I had done with it after) always wondered what had become of it. His excitement (when I told him the full story) made my hair raise. I'm so glad he came up to me and asked and that I was able to give him such good news.
Some people are afraid to come and talk to me. I know this because quite a few over time (even before I started blogging), when they've met me, have said that they always wanted to meet me or talk to me but were afraid to. There is no need to be afraid!
These days it's possible to hear someone say: "Yeah, I know John Smith. I read his blog every day" almost with the confidence of someone who says: "Yes, I know John. We played together as children, used to build club houses in the hedge, grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to school together, I was best man at his wedding, I was there when etc etc etc ..."
What is it to truly know someone?
This brings me to Facebook, myspace and all of these electronic 'social and business networking sites' where one can have hundreds and thousands of 'friends' and be very 'popular'. I don't know anyone 'in real life' who has hundreds and thousands of 'friends' (at least based on what I define a 'friend' to be). I'm not saying you can't make 'real' friends with someone you've encountered online, because I can surely say that I have made/met some ... and I know many others who have.
I think the word 'friend' is often sadly redefined in the cyberworld: someone who may know many things about someone, may 'talk' to him or her online through comments or whatever other technological mechanism, but may not really make the effort or have the desire to reach out and interact beyond that, in the flesh, even if it's possible.
I already know a few Bloggers in TT (... but I knew them before and they just also happen to blog). But have I met any new local ones? I don't think so, come to think of it. Could be that they are anonymous and I have met them but just don't know that I did? E.g. you could meet a Sally Singh (offline) who just doesn't mention that she's Trinicakes (online).
Actually, there is one Blogger I'd never met, whose blog I used to read (when she and her family were living in Trinidad): Karen of Chookooloonks. We met in person for the first time on the night I handed over the Soul Window before they relocated to Texas. It didn't feel like 'the first time'.
I've met a few foreign bloggers - either when I've traveled or when they've been here ... and it has always been a great experience. I haven't known them since childhood or been to school with them every day, but some connections don't need quantity of time in order to determine quality of experience and bond. We are all souls on a journey and it so happens that a modern invention called 'the internet' has enabled us to (re)connect, in ways that we may not have been able to otherwise, with souls who may be with us for the rest of our lives ... just as closely, or sometimes even more so, than those first met in flesh.
I also think of my 'offline' friends - those I feel I will know 'for ever'. I still have many old schoolfriends, but, for various reasons, we don't keep in touch that often. Only one of them has been with me since childhood (primary school) onwards on a daily (literally) basis. Sharms, if you're reading this, that's you. I think (apart from the times either one of us has been abroad studying or jaunting), we've spoken to each other every single day/night over two decades at least! We're always "checking in". My other main friends are people I've met within the past ten years or so - through yoga, (mainly, come to think of it), music, work, the environment or fate - and I feel as if I've known them all my life. They love me and appreciate me (and I them) and would do just about anything for me (and I for them).
But yes, this is an interesting phenomenon about which a lot more can be said ... 'Friends' and 'knowing' and blogging and meeting (or not) - whether here or there.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Girl in hot pink with magic wand gets my garland
At the centre of the labyrinth one day recently with my friend Kris who had her camera with her.*
The day of the concert arrived and I still hadn't written more than one verse of the song. I wasn't feeling it ... and the worst thing is to force something that's not coming. So I let it go and turned to good old Dandelion ... who always lives up to her name (see below for part of the reason why I gave her that name):
In keeping with the dandelion as a flower, every time the drum is played, powerful vibrations will spread far and wide with positive results (reminiscent of a wish being made, the dandelion being blown and the seeds being dispersed.
I have a deck of the small Self Mastery cards, each of which has a different positive value or quality on it and a little message to go with it: Love, Peace, Transformation, Healing, etc. They sell them at the Raj Yoga centre for about $20 - $40TT by the way, if anyone is interested. Nice gift.
About one hour before the concert, with no new song to sing, this was my only hope. I decided to do a "call and response" song using several 'qualities' from this deck (as my lyrics) and the vibrations of Dandelion (as my music). When I went up to perform I told the audience I would be performing a call and response song called GLOBAL CIRCLE. I explained briefly that the positive vibrations of the drum will emanate globally and that the meaning of the words we use in our call and response will go out to touch people like gifts.
So ... I drummed Dandelion and sang/chanted various words I'd chosen ... and then the audience echoed what I had sung in the same melody.
E.g.
Me: Love, Love, Love
Audience: Love, Love, Love
Me: Peace, Peace, Peace
Audience: Peace, Peace, Peace
Me: Joy, Joy, Joy
Aud: Joy, Joy, Joy
Me: Release, Release, Release
Aud: Release, Release, Release
... and so it went for about 3 or 4 minutes, with different words. People were echoing the words/melodies and some were swaying to Dandelion's constant rhythm. While it was great as is/was, I wished that no one felt shy about being really loud. So for the last 'verse' where I/we repeated LOVE for each of the four lines, I said (before chanting out the last line): Okay, let's REALLY be loud with this last one!"
My request was instantly answered by a cute little girl dressed in hot pink (slippers, pants, tunic and headband) waving a flashing silver wand, sitting in the second row with her father. "LOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE!!!!!!!!!!" her little voice screamed out above the moderate adult tones, magic wand flashing.
My immediate response was to shout: "Woohooooooooo!!!!!!" into the microphone and start clapping and laughing. It was a great moment.
After the concert I went to the little girl. Her name is Sarah and she's "four and a half". We chatted for a while about Santa, her flashing magic wand and a few other things. I found her to be very open and brave. When her mother came along, I said: "Sarah is really friendly and chatty."
"No she's not usually at all," the mother said. "She's actually very shy, but somehow she's taken to you. I think it was the music. She was singing along ... and then the way she she screamed out at the end. She loves music."
"Maybe she was drawn to this as well," I said, touching my beloved pink garland which I had worn to the concert. "Looks like her favourite colour is pink."
"Not just pink. HOT pink!" the mother exclaimed.
When I was leaving I went to Sarah, who was playing with a little glowing bouncing ball.
"So I see pink is your favourite colour," I said.
"Yes."
"Do you like this?" (pointing to my garland around my neck)
"Yes!"
"You want it?"
"Yes!"
I took it off and put it around her neck. It was the same colour as everything else she was wearing. She looked up at me her eyes sparkling ... and went back to playing with her glowing ball.
In keeping with the dandelion as a flower, every time the drum is played, powerful vibrations will spread far and wide with positive results (reminiscent of a wish being made, the dandelion being blown and the seeds being dispersed.
I have a deck of the small Self Mastery cards, each of which has a different positive value or quality on it and a little message to go with it: Love, Peace, Transformation, Healing, etc. They sell them at the Raj Yoga centre for about $20 - $40TT by the way, if anyone is interested. Nice gift.
About one hour before the concert, with no new song to sing, this was my only hope. I decided to do a "call and response" song using several 'qualities' from this deck (as my lyrics) and the vibrations of Dandelion (as my music). When I went up to perform I told the audience I would be performing a call and response song called GLOBAL CIRCLE. I explained briefly that the positive vibrations of the drum will emanate globally and that the meaning of the words we use in our call and response will go out to touch people like gifts.
So ... I drummed Dandelion and sang/chanted various words I'd chosen ... and then the audience echoed what I had sung in the same melody.
E.g.
Me: Love, Love, Love
Audience: Love, Love, Love
Me: Peace, Peace, Peace
Audience: Peace, Peace, Peace
Me: Joy, Joy, Joy
Aud: Joy, Joy, Joy
Me: Release, Release, Release
Aud: Release, Release, Release
... and so it went for about 3 or 4 minutes, with different words. People were echoing the words/melodies and some were swaying to Dandelion's constant rhythm. While it was great as is/was, I wished that no one felt shy about being really loud. So for the last 'verse' where I/we repeated LOVE for each of the four lines, I said (before chanting out the last line): Okay, let's REALLY be loud with this last one!"
My request was instantly answered by a cute little girl dressed in hot pink (slippers, pants, tunic and headband) waving a flashing silver wand, sitting in the second row with her father. "LOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE!!!!!!!!!!" her little voice screamed out above the moderate adult tones, magic wand flashing.
My immediate response was to shout: "Woohooooooooo!!!!!!" into the microphone and start clapping and laughing. It was a great moment.
After the concert I went to the little girl. Her name is Sarah and she's "four and a half". We chatted for a while about Santa, her flashing magic wand and a few other things. I found her to be very open and brave. When her mother came along, I said: "Sarah is really friendly and chatty."
"No she's not usually at all," the mother said. "She's actually very shy, but somehow she's taken to you. I think it was the music. She was singing along ... and then the way she she screamed out at the end. She loves music."
"Maybe she was drawn to this as well," I said, touching my beloved pink garland which I had worn to the concert. "Looks like her favourite colour is pink."
"Not just pink. HOT pink!" the mother exclaimed.
When I was leaving I went to Sarah, who was playing with a little glowing bouncing ball.
"So I see pink is your favourite colour," I said.
"Yes."
"Do you like this?" (pointing to my garland around my neck)
"Yes!"
"You want it?"
"Yes!"
I took it off and put it around her neck. It was the same colour as everything else she was wearing. She looked up at me her eyes sparkling ... and went back to playing with her glowing ball.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Clients who pay vs Clients who don't
I just feel like having this image of the labyrinth up today.It's not consciously related to the below post.
*
The other day, I was talking to a friend on the phone. Being a 'freelancer', she was grousing about what most if not all 'freelancers' grouse about ... clients who want their work "yesterday!" ... yet when it's time to pay, are nowhere to be found and suddenly don't answer phones or e-mails. Most, if not all 'freelancers' will echo those stories ... of 'chasing after clients' and calling them repeatedly to get payment for work done by the deadline. To anyone who falls into this category, I suggest changing that label 'FREElancer' immediately if you apply it to yourself. I don't use it anymore. The word 'free' makes it sound like we do things for free. There was a time when I used to do many things 'for free', thinking I was 'helping' ... but now I don't ... unless it's something that I'm really moved to do for free from my heart - in which case I know the Divine is paying me (more than humans could ever pay me, might I add). You know, many Trinis do not appreciate or respect 'free ting' (like free open air concerts and free seminars). Only 'freeness' (as in bachanaal, fêtes, free rum and roti at political rallies and shameless copyright infringement).
While listening to my friend on the phone, my eye fell on the bright yellow plastic call card of a client I had done some work for recently. It was the first time I had ever done work for her. Not only had she paid the requested 50% down payment ('mobilisation fee') without question or hesitation before the job had even been started ... but, once the job was completed and handed to her, I received the balance within four days (two of those days being weekend days, so they don't really count). I did not have to call her repeatedly or send her e-mails to remind her to pay me. "What a rarity," I realised ...
So, as soon as I put down the phone, I called the client and, in essence, said to her: "Hi, it's Elspeth. I'm calling to thank you for respecting me and the creative process by paying on time and without fuss - both the down payment and the balance. Not all clients do that and I really appreciate how you were with me/us." (In the earlier stage of the job there was an artist who also got paid on time).
I suppose it was unexpected. She sounded surprised and touched. Maybe for her it was also a new experience ... someone calling to thank her for her work ethic.
On the other side of the coin ... I once wrote a letter of 'termination of working relationship' to a client who repeatedly disrespected the payment process. Perhaps he didn't 'know any better' and that was his work ethic. And perhaps I should have spoken up sooner. I always got paid eventually, but it was the process of calling repeatedly, without having calls returned that eventually added up. In the end it boils down to ... even if they don't respect you/the process, you have to respect your self.
No client is worth it - having to call repeatedly (we are not beggars) to get our due. It felt great to write that letter. I was losing nothing. The funny thing is, I posted the letter ... and once it had slipped into the mailbox, he called on my cellular to tell me: "The cheque is ready. You can come and collect it."
However, the deed had been done and I didn't regret it. I was free and I had chosen self worth above money.
This is what pays most in the long run.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Missing person
The other day I was at the check out counter of HiLo, St. Anns. My eyes fell on the community notice board on the wall ahead of me. There, amidst fliers and notices for various things were ads for Missing Dogs ... and Missing People! Knowing how bad it feels to have a missing dog, it struck me in that moment: (God forbid) imagine having to put up an ad for a missing person! And to think that missing people ads are on a supermarket cork board, seemingly as common as fliers advertising missing dogs!
I don't know the missing young woman featured in the above flier, although it's a small world and her name sounds very familiar. I've received quite a few forwarded e-mails over the past few days (from friends who know her or who know people who know her) asking everyone to look out for her and/or her car. So when I got the above flier today I thought I would put it up here. Prayers go out for her and for her loved ones.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Bijoux update
(l. to r. - Pippa and Bijoux - Hindi's daughters, each from one of her two litters)*
Yesterday I called Radio 97.1 and gave them the information on Bijoux so they could make a free community announcement.
I also photocopied some 'Help us find our lost pet' flyers (containing her photo, description, name, my cellular phone number, etc.) and went driving around to put them up in establishments in the area.
I stopped at the stationery place (Office Express) and the cashier said in that drawn out doo-doo-darling kind of tone: "Doh worrrrrrrrrry. I go put this up for youuuuuu. I does love animal and I does go all out for them!" She related a story about a cat she had picked up once and ended off with "... and I does cook all the food for my dogs! I doh make joke with dat! Dey eatin' cook food!"
Everywhere I stopped to put up flyers, I was struck by how genuinely concerned the people were - all of them saying: "I hope you find her." It felt like a small network of kindness and awareness being built up in the environs.
Driving home past the Creative Arts centre on Gordon Street (not far from home), I noticed dogs lying under the cars in the carpark and went in to see if any were her. I stopped and told the guard at the gate: "I'm looking for a lost dog" and showed him the photo on the flyer.
"But eh-eh, I did see this dog here Monday on my shift! I sure is she. They always have dogs in here, but this one different and she had a collar."
He told me to look around the compound and ask the lady in the cafeteria. No luck.
Driving up St John Road, I stopped at a small grocery and asked the one female customer and man behind the counter if they had seen her (gave them the flyer).
"But ... that is the dog that just just came across on 97!" the woman exclaimed after reading the description. "The announcer just say it lost in the vicinity of St John Road!"
The man behind the counter said: "Lemme see?" He looked closely at the photo on the flyer. "But this is the dog that was in here just yesterday!" He went in the back and called out to a woman to show her the flyer.
I heard him ask her: "This is the dog that was in here yesterday?"
Her voice floated back: "It looking so ... only the one yesterday had more brown."
The picture was taken a few months ago and since then Bijoux's hair has (as my sister confirms) become more brown. Maybe it was her ...? All clues seem to be pointing to the fact that she could be wandering around the area, perhaps trying to make her way back home, but running scared again every time the (now daily) thunder rolls. We will keep our eyes peeled, our thoughts positive, our intuition sharp and the spirit of good old Nancy Drew, girl detective, by our sides.
I also photocopied some 'Help us find our lost pet' flyers (containing her photo, description, name, my cellular phone number, etc.) and went driving around to put them up in establishments in the area.
I stopped at the stationery place (Office Express) and the cashier said in that drawn out doo-doo-darling kind of tone: "Doh worrrrrrrrrry. I go put this up for youuuuuu. I does love animal and I does go all out for them!" She related a story about a cat she had picked up once and ended off with "... and I does cook all the food for my dogs! I doh make joke with dat! Dey eatin' cook food!"
Everywhere I stopped to put up flyers, I was struck by how genuinely concerned the people were - all of them saying: "I hope you find her." It felt like a small network of kindness and awareness being built up in the environs.
Driving home past the Creative Arts centre on Gordon Street (not far from home), I noticed dogs lying under the cars in the carpark and went in to see if any were her. I stopped and told the guard at the gate: "I'm looking for a lost dog" and showed him the photo on the flyer.
"But eh-eh, I did see this dog here Monday on my shift! I sure is she. They always have dogs in here, but this one different and she had a collar."
He told me to look around the compound and ask the lady in the cafeteria. No luck.
Driving up St John Road, I stopped at a small grocery and asked the one female customer and man behind the counter if they had seen her (gave them the flyer).
"But ... that is the dog that just just came across on 97!" the woman exclaimed after reading the description. "The announcer just say it lost in the vicinity of St John Road!"
The man behind the counter said: "Lemme see?" He looked closely at the photo on the flyer. "But this is the dog that was in here just yesterday!" He went in the back and called out to a woman to show her the flyer.
I heard him ask her: "This is the dog that was in here yesterday?"
Her voice floated back: "It looking so ... only the one yesterday had more brown."
The picture was taken a few months ago and since then Bijoux's hair has (as my sister confirms) become more brown. Maybe it was her ...? All clues seem to be pointing to the fact that she could be wandering around the area, perhaps trying to make her way back home, but running scared again every time the (now daily) thunder rolls. We will keep our eyes peeled, our thoughts positive, our intuition sharp and the spirit of good old Nancy Drew, girl detective, by our sides.
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