Let go of expectations

Making a decision felt good. Especially after I had been following the weather forecast and the news from a manor house's garden Instagram account to see how their tulip collection was doing.  With the weather getting colder and almost eighty percent of the tulips open, today felt the right day to go to see the tulips. My husband agreed.

After eighty minute drive and with memories of the awe from previous years the expectation to be wowed again was rather high.

Entering the garden we saw the colors. The tulips were blooming. And yet, something was off. When we looked closer many of the tulips looked somewhat withered and had tiny gray specks on them. After a while we saw a sign that explained that due to the recent cold and rain the flowers had become sick with mould. 

I felt as a wave of disappointment approached. I closed my eyes and let it roll over me. When I opened my eyes, I let go of the expectations and was open to the current experience. The sun shone warmly. Patches of tulips spread around in the garden. My husband and I  had ample of time to wander around. 

It may sound strange but I felt compassion for the tulips and found them beautiful in spite of their suffering and partially because of their suffering. 

A day in three sentences

My husband drove us to the countryside, spread soil for the wild flower seeds, baked a rhubarb pie, dug through the potato patch in the corner of the garden and heated the sauna.

I peeled the potatoes and took pictures of the flowers.

What a wonderful spring Saturday!

 

Cookies and strawberries

 "Do you have everything?" I asked my daughter on Saturday morning before heading out.

"Yes, the cookies, the strawberries, the napkins, the cups, the laptop," she counted, "You?"

"Yes, the laptop, the cord, the jug, the papers, the post-its, the markers and pens," I responded.

What an odd combination of things you might think. All of this we needed for the first ever Estonian Collective Dreaming workshop in the local library. 

You read it right. Last Saturday the doors of libraries all over Estonia opened for people to gather and dream what they wished life in Estonia would be like in 2050. Big national event. I had signed up as one dreaming workshop leader because the idea of collective dreaming sounded positive to me. 

I have no clue how many people gathered in other libraries. The gathering I led had six people. My friend, my daughter's three friends, my daughter and I. With such a small number I decided to make the gathering extra sweet. My daughter baked chocolate chip cookies the evening before and I bought some strawberries. 

The event lasted two hours. We started with stating what's already well, what we had dreamt of at the age of five. Then we wrote and shared individual dreams and then found the common dream. During the dreaming and sharing we ate cookies and strawberries.

The leftover cookies I ate to patch my slightly bruised ego. I had posted notices about the event in two local stores, shared the invitation on FB and sent some personal invitations and this is how many responded. One person to my invitation and three to my daughter's. This is life. 

The dreams we gathered were compassionate, putting valuing people and diversity in the center, noting the impact of education, highlighting the importance of communities and understanding the importance of living in harmony with nature. If even a fraction of the dreams come true, we already have a better world.

People can still get together to gather more dreams until the 20th of June. Then the scientists with the help of AI will analyse and summarise the data and on the 20th of August we'll hear the first results. 

making my own happiness

Walking in a Japanese garden on Friday morning is a delight. A blessing. A privilege. 

I breathed in the fresh air and admired the light green leaves emerging, the cherry blossoms adding colour and forsythia brightening the scenery. Despite the chilly wind the day felt springy. A squirrel hopped across the lawn. Two ducks and a seagull swam in a pond. An older couple and a young family strolled on the paths between the trees and around the patches of lawn.

Lucky you, some might say. Yes, in a way. At the same time this walk was possible because of two things. One, that I had a doctor's check up in the city after a recent medical procedure. (all good) The second, that my husband was made redundant and he hasn't found a new job yet, so he was able to drive me. (so far we manage) I made a deliberate decision to take extra time in the city to visit the garden before returning to my home office to continue working. (quite a bit unclear about the future)

And this is how life is. The good, the bad, the beautiful. Putting aside the challenges of life, I focused on the beauty of the garden and the fact that I was able to share it with my dear husband. Making my own happiness. 

No experience is exactly the same

Will the cherry trees be blooming? We asked the question during an hour long car ride, hoping deep down the heart that the answer would be yes. 

My husband and I were happy that the youngest had been at home on Saturday. We were happy that the day was almost summer warm and sunny. We were filled with anticipation to see a cherry three promenade.

We had found this gorgeous sight five years ago and visited it on my eldest daughter's twenty fifth birthday. It was in the midst of the lockdown and seeing the cherry blossoms had been the highlights of her birthday when she couldn't have a party. 

Every spring ever since we crave to experience the awe of the pink beauty. For the past two years the cold has taken the blossoms before they have opened. 

By the time we approached our destination the clouds had covered the sky. From afar we could see a thin layer of dark pink across a lake. We could tell that more blossoms were closed than open. 

I know that even when we return to the same place at almost the same time of the year and many of the weather conditions would be the same and the nature patterns repeat, the experience is never the same. Each experience is new and unique. It is important to put the comparison aside. 

We did.

The trees were half blooming and the feeling of awe arrived with every small blossom that was open. 

I accepted impermanence and collected gratitude. 

Library is always more than a library

I went to the library. Not to borrow a book. Since my home office is still waiting for a printer, well waiting for me to get the printer, and buying being a nuisance for me, I use the printing service in the local library. I mean today was the second time I used this service. 

The first time I went to print there, I left with a book anyway, even when it had not been my intention. 

Today too, after having a conversation with the librarian about the mission impossible to read all the books in the to-be-read pile and the feeble attempts to not add anything to it, I still left with a tiny pocket size poetry book. 

The texts printed, the book in my pocket, almost ready to leave, I noticed that one of the rooms had a new exhibition by an Estonian Digital artist Made Balbat. 

My work day filled with last minute preparations for a Wednesday teacher workshop now had two delights in it - a poetry book and an art exhibition. 

Can you guess which book the artist recently illustrated? Of course you can. :)

the faces of spring

Standing behind the red light on a city street together with several people, I saw slight pink on three young trees on the other side of the street in the park and wondered whether the other pedestrians were as eager to get closer as I was.  

Apparently not. Everyone crossed the street and continued walking without even giving a glimpse to the trees. 

I paused. The moment of admiring the gentle blossoms in the warmth of the spring sun filled me with gratitude. 

Two days later the snow arrived. The reaction to snow depends on the context. First snow brings joy. Spring snow creates disappointment. You can't control the snow, sun, wind nor clouds. You can control your reactions. On a snowy spring day, the concept of impermanence is helpful. This too shall pass. The snow will melt. 

what to give as a gift to a ninety-one year old

 "What shall we give to dad for his birthday?" my sis asked me.

This was a challenging question. My dad has said he doesn't want anything. At age of ninety-one he has everything he needs and has wanted. He wasn't too keen on a birthday party either but the offer to celebrate the birthday together with me pleased him. He softly requested a salmon-broccoli quiche and "kama-kreem" - a creamy dessert made of kohupiim (quark), cream cheese, whipped cream and kama (milled flour mixture). We happily obliged. 

We still didn't have a gift for him. It was on the morning of the double birthday gathering when I had an idea, and a bright one I might add.

"We'll take him to photo exhibitions at Fotografiska," I suggested. My sister agreed.

The day after the party my dad, a hobby photographer all his life, walked in the halls of the photo centre, looking at a senior Estonian sports photographer's exhibition, international street photographer Feng Li's White Nights collection and legendary photographer Elliot Erwitt's iconic white-and-black photos. He enjoyed the art. 

My dad makes a good subject for photos too.

 

aitäh

I finish this slice of life challenge where I started it. I am sitting on my living room sofa, my all time favourite place, where I have written many thousand words, drank hundreds cups of tea, and eaten several slices of cake. This morning is like many other March mornings with a partially cloudy sky, trees swaying in the wind, still waiting for enough warmth to dress in light green. The one lone crow I have seen several times this month has taken its view spot on top of a birch. Occasionally my inner critic used to take the shape of a crow but this month it seemed that he has had other interesting things to do and view and he didn't bother me at all. I enjoyed writing my slices with ease and playfulness.

I knew the challenge would end today and nevertheless seeing the date startles me. This is it? 

There are two things left to do.

First, I thank you from the bottom of the heart for sharing your slices and reading mine. When working alone in the home office, and I had many of these days this month, the human connections, the virtual ones included, are precious. They remind me I exist. Aitäh!

Second, I have written found poems from the comments for several years now, and here is a short one from this year: 

Life surprises us in many ways.
It is hard to settle into sleep 
When thoughts are spinning around in your head,
Dreams can conjure up many emotions,
It's so easy during hard times to not take time to think of delights.
As our lives continue unabated,
We create a tiny space for thoughts and words.
Voice your own questions about what's going on in front of you,
To write down your truth in a totally honest way.
You are the masterpiece! 
Enjoy your cake later today! :)
One more day to celebrate!

Tomorrow is Tuesday. See you tomorrow!

let the music play

Sitting on my living room sofa on this rainy Sunday morning, the morning of turning clocks forward, an incomprehensible continuous tradition that will mess with people's sleep habits for weeks to follow, I am determined to find music for Leigh Anne's Slicer Music Festival.

I am easily distracted. Following yesterday's the first truly warm spring day the rain is disappointing. It doesn't bother a crow who sits on a top branch of a birch tree and gently swinging looks over the area. At first my eyes deceived me to see it as a duck, so fat and round it was, but the brain quickly corrected this ridiculous notion. The crow is quiet. Surprising, considering how the crows usually are the loudest ones around. 

I keep drinking green tea. I finished eating two leftover slices of salmon-broccoli quiche and now am contemplating whether to eat a piece of leftover cake also. I ate in silence, almost silence, for the rain tapping on the windowsill creates steady rhythm.  

Choosing the songs for the party is a challenge for me, so much that I have left joining the party for the last minute. I don't listen to music much. I don't have a radio at home, I don't have a Spotify account, and putting on CDs is not a habit either. Usually when I drive, I don't listen to my car radio neither. 

There was a time last May when I listened to a song and sang along loudly on a long drive from a school visit. This is the first song I'll take with me. Billy Joel's Piano Man. The sing-along experience inspired me to write a Substack post. It is interesting how one song transported me three decades back to a Greyhound bus taking me from Washington DC to Bowling Green, Kentucky. In addition it reminded me how my boyfriend, now husband, got a wrong CD as a gift for me. 

I know now what the second song could be. Last Friday my hubby and I went to listen to a concert in a local culture house. We had seen the singer once before on her very first public concert when people knew her as an actress faous for her role as a young witch in a children's TV show. The first time she sang it was just her and her guitar on the stage. This time the stage included a piano, drums and a stand with four guitars and a banjo and five people altogether. The songs though were still similar - sweet, melodious and relatable. The song I am choosing for the party is called In Dreams and starts with the lines "In my dreams I dance on the tables. Mari Jürjens (skip ad)

Following this, the third song can't be anything else than Pink's Never Gonna Not Dance Again. During my coaching studies, when I was going through some complicated times at work, this song was a power boost to reclaiming my strength and spark. This is a song I chose when my supervisor asked to represent where I was in my life at this point. 

We will listen to the piano man and some guitar and then we are going to dance. I am glad I have chosen the pieces for the party and can now join others at Leigh Anne's place.