Live to learn to love.
Learn to love to live.
Love to live to learn
so that you may live the life that you yearn for.
~ Rico Dasheem
Do you know how hard it is to return to any routine you once followed? This is where I am, or have been, trying to get back to writing, though I haven't succeeded terribly.
Finally, today, it all clicked. This is what happened...
My state of what I called semi-depression (nothing near as severe as the one one of my most adored comedians, Robin Williams, only just went through) is soon to be over. Depression is to be taken seriously, and I am guilty of questioning a dear friend who had to cancel our meeting due to 'his gloomy state'; 'it's a curse, as he put it, and so, I wrote back:
'The Weather is lovely, and you're sitting on beautiful grounds...' I pointed out all the wonderful things I could think of in his life and how courageously he had battled through hard times.
"Darling, think of your blessings." I continued in a new sentence, "Put on some cheering music... Think happy thoughts and smile. Life isn't easy for most. We only learn how to deal with shit! That's all."
I bit my tongue after sending those messages, thinking... Well, my friend knows all that. It is 'his' life, after all, but I began questioning and reading more on the matter, and now I realise how unjustly my words could have been. At the same time, I was not judging, but sometimes we need a good friend to point out the good and the bad. My friend was as jolly as ever when we next met, wearing shorts and our swimwear to go lay on the lawn in Hampstead Heath, rolling around like two teenagers (which we certainly are not!), with groups of youngsters pic-nicking all around us; a July's glorious summer's day.
Oops! I am only just back, and did my mind run away again?
My Brazilian manicurist, Lubia, approached me the other day while attending to my nails; we chatted a little before my attention drifted into a deep revêrie of thoughts pouring into my overloaded mind. I took a deep breath, sharply moved my head from side to side, got out of the zone where I had disappeared and confessed aloud:
"Ooouuff! Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts! We drive ourselves nuts sometimes by feeding our brains too much information."
Lubia looked up at me, gently bit her lower lip and asked with a smile:
"What thoughts?" She then confessed: "I don't think."
I watched her puzzled and questioned:
"What do you mean you don't think, Darling! We all think. All the time. "Then began to think again and further queried:
"But you must think. Simple things like when and where my next appointment is, how I will get there, etc. Or simply what I will cook later when I get home... Blah, blah, blah... No? Don't you?
Lubia, who was watching me in the same manner as her expression had not changed and answered:
"No, I don't think. I don't think of anything. I live in the moment and go on to the next when the time comes." She continued on: "My mother suffered from depression, so did my sister, and they overthought, so I decided not to think when it's not necessary to do so!"
Wow! Seriously? How many people out there can say they don't think most of the time?!
I noticed that when I allow fear in, whether hearing a noise out of place or thinking all kinds of bizarre thoughts unnecessarily, it would not be simpler to just let go of all the tiny noises and simply be present at the moment, which is quite remarkable.
Be immune to the noise going on in the back of the mind! God bless Lubia for reminding me. I added:
"Then you can easily meditate! You must try."
The past few weeks in London have been... Let's just say it has had its moments.
But I aim to keep my head high and move happily. One of the many highlights was Robby's special birthday celebration with a live Cuban band at her garden party, surrounded by great chums (I love that British expression of mates!). My friend had suggested I turn up in one of my flamenco dresses, so I, all dressed up with a complete ensemble of a white Spanish comb and red flower to match my dotted white and red dress, Charlotte and Nicolas picked me up on the way, and we spent most the night in the garden, below the band playing on the balcony, dancing.
And so, next came your birthday party!
But that came after what was meant to be a four-day trip to Ibiza, which turned into six days!
Yet another 'special' birthday celebrating Torsten's... 'Coming of age'. Haha. Who wants to be mature anyway? Troy and I were meant to take EasyJet and join Torsten and his friends at the villa he had rented for the week. We made it to Gatwick airport, only to be told that our flight was cancelled one and a half hours before taking off. No explanation but that. Will not bore you with the hassle and details, but we did have our laughs and kept a positive attitude. Guess what? We took the BA flight the following morning and got upgraded.
At the villa, DJs were attending the party from Prague and Canada who sure knew their beats. The four large BOSE speakers by the pool, complete with a DJ deck, made for some great, upbeat tunes played at all times. Still trying to figure out what the neighbours thought, but they were not too close, and it is Ibiza, after all! I made some fun new friends on the trip, a visit to Ushuaia was organised, and to other clubs, we spent an afternoon on Salinas beach, where I got through some more shopping for sarongs, probably earrings, and God knows what else! Even I am trying to remember what I bought there. Brilliant!
On the last day we were meant to return to London, Troy got distracted and, before leaving the beach at sunset in the early evening, asked if I wanted to add another two days to our trip? Hah, would I just?! So, we returned to the villa; I retired happily to bed and slept through all the four speakers outside, banging to their heart's delight. When I awoke fresh around 8:30am, others were heading to bed; I was chatting on WhatsApp with Lori when she gave me the choice of either meeting her friends on a party boat in Ibiza or a family on a sailboat in Formentera; it did not take me long to decide on the latter, quieter choice.
Lori then texted back to say she had been in contact with Louis and put us in touch via text.
Louis shortly called me and said:
"You're welcome to join us in Formentera. I'm with my daughter Elena and her friend Diego."
He added: "Text me before, and I'll meet you at the port in Formentera."
After half an hour of organisation, planning and packing a small stay-over beach bag, as my host had mentioned, I could stay overnight and be dropped off in Ibiza the following afternoon. I came down the stairs and was happy to see Hugo awoken, too. Told him my plans, and he helped me call a cab to pick me up from the villa to the port and hopped on the 11:30am ferry to Formentera, where Louis awaited. Apart from a small photo on WhatsApp, we had yet to learn about one another.
Amongst this Spanish trio, there was no music on board, no one smoked, no noise, we were anchored at sea, and the family were most welcoming, with long hauls of peace and quiet, when each attended to their own 'being'. Louis went to his boat, Elena read her book, Diego boasted about his fit body around the ship and went on shore to see if he could rescue what seemed like a single lady on her vessel, not exactly stranded at sea. Men! Haha. I took long swims in the azure sea under a clear, deep blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun penetrating deep into my cells as I lay on the deck, carefully splashing Hawaiin Tropic oil all over my already golden tan while making sure it did not get anywhere else. Boat people I know can be very proud of their possessions, but Louis did not seem that fussed.
As the sun was about to drop into the horizon, we floated on the dinghy to Formentera, which was relatively deserted as the day visitors left the island residents, their land, in peace. It was the night of the World Cup Finals taking place in Brazil. We walked around the quiet main square, picked a restaurant and had a delicious meal, ending with salt caramel ice cream. We heard cheering from the square when Germany beat Argentina 1-0 and headed back to the sailboat, where I was given my own cabin with a double bed. Before sleeping, I stayed alone on deck, staring at the silky midnight blue sky with bright stars. On lowering the head, my sight was enriched with another scenery of the full moon gleaming as a path onto the Mediterranean waters. The stairway to heaven was right before me, and I was in charge of doing it as I pleased. Climb, of course!
On my last day, the sails were out, and we headed to Salinas Beach, where I treated my hosts to lunch and bid them farewell with many thanks for their warm hospitality. I returned to the villa to join Troy and Torsten, the only two left, for a tapas spot before heading to the airport. Back in London, I got busy organising my birthday party with the same Cuban band playing all afternoon and welcoming my Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura, who were over to help celebrate my 'special' day, beginning with putting up the gazebo I had ordered in case of ... Guess what?! Rain, of course. All I can say is that it was a magical day when everywhere I looked, years of friendship and love flowed in the air with the 'Besame mucho tune being sung by the band and the sound of chitter-chatter and laughter taking over the otherwise calm neighbourhood. My Girl had ordered the most delicious of chocolate cakes everyone raved about, and my Boy jokingly noted:
"Mum, thank God you didn't make a cheesy speech! I would like to know if you would. But I'm proud of you!"
Aaaaaah! My heart sank, of course, as I laughed aloud.
Uncle Ken acquired earlier:
"So, how old will you be, Haldita?" Then, in a questioning way, he answered, "Fi-f-ty?"
I smiled and answered:
"No, uncle. I'm Fifty Five, and I'm Alive! Oh, I want to thrive!"
He rolled his eyes and smilingly asked: "What's the rush? Are you trying to catch up with me or something?"
A sense of humour runs in the family.
Since I decided to make my blogs more frequent and shorter, Mmm... Who am I kidding? I can't do little. Anyway, will end this blog with...
'One of the happiest moments ever is finding the courage to let go of what you cannot change'.
Learn to love to live.
Love to live to learn
so that you may live the life that you yearn for.
~ Rico Dasheem
Do you know how hard it is to return to any routine you once followed? This is where I am, or have been, trying to get back to writing, though I haven't succeeded terribly.
Finally, today, it all clicked. This is what happened...
My state of what I called semi-depression (nothing near as severe as the one one of my most adored comedians, Robin Williams, only just went through) is soon to be over. Depression is to be taken seriously, and I am guilty of questioning a dear friend who had to cancel our meeting due to 'his gloomy state'; 'it's a curse, as he put it, and so, I wrote back:
'The Weather is lovely, and you're sitting on beautiful grounds...' I pointed out all the wonderful things I could think of in his life and how courageously he had battled through hard times.
"Darling, think of your blessings." I continued in a new sentence, "Put on some cheering music... Think happy thoughts and smile. Life isn't easy for most. We only learn how to deal with shit! That's all."
I bit my tongue after sending those messages, thinking... Well, my friend knows all that. It is 'his' life, after all, but I began questioning and reading more on the matter, and now I realise how unjustly my words could have been. At the same time, I was not judging, but sometimes we need a good friend to point out the good and the bad. My friend was as jolly as ever when we next met, wearing shorts and our swimwear to go lay on the lawn in Hampstead Heath, rolling around like two teenagers (which we certainly are not!), with groups of youngsters pic-nicking all around us; a July's glorious summer's day.
Oops! I am only just back, and did my mind run away again?
My Brazilian manicurist, Lubia, approached me the other day while attending to my nails; we chatted a little before my attention drifted into a deep revêrie of thoughts pouring into my overloaded mind. I took a deep breath, sharply moved my head from side to side, got out of the zone where I had disappeared and confessed aloud:
"Ooouuff! Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts! We drive ourselves nuts sometimes by feeding our brains too much information."
Lubia looked up at me, gently bit her lower lip and asked with a smile:
"What thoughts?" She then confessed: "I don't think."
I watched her puzzled and questioned:
"What do you mean you don't think, Darling! We all think. All the time. "Then began to think again and further queried:
"But you must think. Simple things like when and where my next appointment is, how I will get there, etc. Or simply what I will cook later when I get home... Blah, blah, blah... No? Don't you?
Lubia, who was watching me in the same manner as her expression had not changed and answered:
"No, I don't think. I don't think of anything. I live in the moment and go on to the next when the time comes." She continued on: "My mother suffered from depression, so did my sister, and they overthought, so I decided not to think when it's not necessary to do so!"
Wow! Seriously? How many people out there can say they don't think most of the time?!
I noticed that when I allow fear in, whether hearing a noise out of place or thinking all kinds of bizarre thoughts unnecessarily, it would not be simpler to just let go of all the tiny noises and simply be present at the moment, which is quite remarkable.
Be immune to the noise going on in the back of the mind! God bless Lubia for reminding me. I added:
"Then you can easily meditate! You must try."
The past few weeks in London have been... Let's just say it has had its moments.
But I aim to keep my head high and move happily. One of the many highlights was Robby's special birthday celebration with a live Cuban band at her garden party, surrounded by great chums (I love that British expression of mates!). My friend had suggested I turn up in one of my flamenco dresses, so I, all dressed up with a complete ensemble of a white Spanish comb and red flower to match my dotted white and red dress, Charlotte and Nicolas picked me up on the way, and we spent most the night in the garden, below the band playing on the balcony, dancing.
And so, next came your birthday party!
But that came after what was meant to be a four-day trip to Ibiza, which turned into six days!
Yet another 'special' birthday celebrating Torsten's... 'Coming of age'. Haha. Who wants to be mature anyway? Troy and I were meant to take EasyJet and join Torsten and his friends at the villa he had rented for the week. We made it to Gatwick airport, only to be told that our flight was cancelled one and a half hours before taking off. No explanation but that. Will not bore you with the hassle and details, but we did have our laughs and kept a positive attitude. Guess what? We took the BA flight the following morning and got upgraded.
At the villa, DJs were attending the party from Prague and Canada who sure knew their beats. The four large BOSE speakers by the pool, complete with a DJ deck, made for some great, upbeat tunes played at all times. Still trying to figure out what the neighbours thought, but they were not too close, and it is Ibiza, after all! I made some fun new friends on the trip, a visit to Ushuaia was organised, and to other clubs, we spent an afternoon on Salinas beach, where I got through some more shopping for sarongs, probably earrings, and God knows what else! Even I am trying to remember what I bought there. Brilliant!
 |
| Men seized by 'the' moment! |
 |
| Bongo player on Salinas Beach |
 |
| Dancer at Ushuaia |
On the last day we were meant to return to London, Troy got distracted and, before leaving the beach at sunset in the early evening, asked if I wanted to add another two days to our trip? Hah, would I just?! So, we returned to the villa; I retired happily to bed and slept through all the four speakers outside, banging to their heart's delight. When I awoke fresh around 8:30am, others were heading to bed; I was chatting on WhatsApp with Lori when she gave me the choice of either meeting her friends on a party boat in Ibiza or a family on a sailboat in Formentera; it did not take me long to decide on the latter, quieter choice.
Lori then texted back to say she had been in contact with Louis and put us in touch via text.
Louis shortly called me and said:
"You're welcome to join us in Formentera. I'm with my daughter Elena and her friend Diego."
He added: "Text me before, and I'll meet you at the port in Formentera."
After half an hour of organisation, planning and packing a small stay-over beach bag, as my host had mentioned, I could stay overnight and be dropped off in Ibiza the following afternoon. I came down the stairs and was happy to see Hugo awoken, too. Told him my plans, and he helped me call a cab to pick me up from the villa to the port and hopped on the 11:30am ferry to Formentera, where Louis awaited. Apart from a small photo on WhatsApp, we had yet to learn about one another.
Amongst this Spanish trio, there was no music on board, no one smoked, no noise, we were anchored at sea, and the family were most welcoming, with long hauls of peace and quiet, when each attended to their own 'being'. Louis went to his boat, Elena read her book, Diego boasted about his fit body around the ship and went on shore to see if he could rescue what seemed like a single lady on her vessel, not exactly stranded at sea. Men! Haha. I took long swims in the azure sea under a clear, deep blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun penetrating deep into my cells as I lay on the deck, carefully splashing Hawaiin Tropic oil all over my already golden tan while making sure it did not get anywhere else. Boat people I know can be very proud of their possessions, but Louis did not seem that fussed.
As the sun was about to drop into the horizon, we floated on the dinghy to Formentera, which was relatively deserted as the day visitors left the island residents, their land, in peace. It was the night of the World Cup Finals taking place in Brazil. We walked around the quiet main square, picked a restaurant and had a delicious meal, ending with salt caramel ice cream. We heard cheering from the square when Germany beat Argentina 1-0 and headed back to the sailboat, where I was given my own cabin with a double bed. Before sleeping, I stayed alone on deck, staring at the silky midnight blue sky with bright stars. On lowering the head, my sight was enriched with another scenery of the full moon gleaming as a path onto the Mediterranean waters. The stairway to heaven was right before me, and I was in charge of doing it as I pleased. Climb, of course!
 |
| The Club Med sailboat by Es Vedra |
 |
| The Full Moon at sea |
"Mum, thank God you didn't make a cheesy speech! I would like to know if you would. But I'm proud of you!"
Aaaaaah! My heart sank, of course, as I laughed aloud.
Uncle Ken acquired earlier:
"So, how old will you be, Haldita?" Then, in a questioning way, he answered, "Fi-f-ty?"
I smiled and answered:
"No, uncle. I'm Fifty Five, and I'm Alive! Oh, I want to thrive!"
He rolled his eyes and smilingly asked: "What's the rush? Are you trying to catch up with me or something?"
A sense of humour runs in the family.
Since I decided to make my blogs more frequent and shorter, Mmm... Who am I kidding? I can't do little. Anyway, will end this blog with...
'One of the happiest moments ever is finding the courage to let go of what you cannot change'.
