Love

Sometimes I wonder how many years have to pass until my heart will stop longing... And other times I am scared of the day when longing will not be anymore...Longing hurts. Years after and it still hurts. But longing also keeps the memory alive.

There are moments, when suck into my own mind, not really looking around me, and I see someone I think is him. My head snaps and I stare. Of course I know it is impossible to see him. Too many worlds are between us. But my heart chooses to fool itself for few seconds and I feel like running to tell him how much I still love him. And it is just a stranger... And then longing hits me. It feels like my heart is held painfully tight, like a void swallows me. I sigh.

And then are the moments when the memories don't come. Days, sometimes weeks pass, and I'm not thinking. And when something does remind me, I get scared that maybe I will forget. And that is fear as the only connection now are the memories.

It hurts to remember. But it is also filled with sweetness, with memories of warmth and peace and safety. In a way it is like looking back towards an Eden lost. I selfishly want it back. Because not matter how many years passed, how much my life changed, I still want the safety of love.

Because love it was. Just pure, giving love. It was the safety of knowing that no matter what, the love will always be there, equally as strong. And sometimes I took it for granted, fooled into the idea that it will always be there. I thought that it will always be tomorrow, that I can always go back.

But when I did went back it was too late. And when life crushed around me, when I felt crushed by the weight of my sorrows, when I needed the most, it was too late, and all I had left were memories.

Sometimes an old man, with white hear and slow step, reminds me of him. And I want to run into his arms as I so often did. But I can't. All my arms touch is empty air. I wanted him to always be there, to see my daughters grow. I wanted that for him, because I knew how much he loved me, and I wanted it for them. But the moments when they had each other were brief. I was too busy living on the other side of the planet.

He taught me to play cards and to trust. He taught me to have patience and understanding. He taught me that I deserved love even when I made mistakes. Oh, I loved him. I always did, and even now, when other worlds are between us, I still do.

I was too far away and it was too late. Way too late to even manage to jump in a plane. I needed to tell him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me. I wanted to thank him. But it was too late. I tell him now, in my thoughts. As I tell him about my daughters, his great granddaughters. But it is too late. And I would so much want him too see then growing up and following their dreams. I'd so much want to sit with him in silence again, letting love talk without words.

And my heart still cries for him. The pain and the longing are still alive in me. And sometimes I feel him round me, gentle and understanding. But I can't hug him again. Does he hear me when I tell him that he was the best grandfather anyone would want? I miss him so much my heart breaks.

Parenting and Respect

(This should have come about one month before my previous post. But one month ago I was writing in my dairy instead of blogging, so I'm just copying from there. )






Day one... Two cells meet to become a child... Soon after, the formation of ever growing cells, starts developing and soon enough starts moving... There is a lot to say for the feeling of wonder when your baby first starts to kick... And like in the blink of an eye, that little human that started as two cells, is someone you can hold in your arms, you can touch... so tiny and so helpless... But fast, way too fast, the tiny bundle starts crawling, walking... Talking, having opinions and preferences of their own...

But that tiny person is still small, still helpless, still needy and sometimes is hard to remember that in that little body is a soul equally as old as anyone else's.

From the day I first held my oldest daughter, I have always been aware that while she was my child, she did not belonged to me, but to herself... I made a choice to have her and that resulted into the tremendous responsibility of teaching and offering the best that I knew in terms of wings. And when my second daughter came to be, I become too busy to use philosophy in looking after them. I loved them. I love them. I would have and still would jumped in fire or worse for either of them. I allowed them to be as much of their own person as I could have done. But somehow, between worry and lack of time, between bills to be paid and 3 lives to nurture, I forgot that my tiny tots were their own individual. Of course, I knew that they were their own persons so similar, and yet so different from any of us. As much as I could, I stopped to just look at them, with love and with pride...

Days become weeks, weeks become months, years... And all of a sudden, as a parent you realize you missed some of the signs... I wish I was a better parent, but I wasn't... All I know is that I have tried to offer my undivided attention to whoever needed it the most at any given time. If I could have divided myself in two, to always be there fully for each of my children, I would have done it, but it was not possible. So I turned my attention to the one I perceived as more week, as more in need...

So to one, I gave all the physical love she needed. To the other, I gave my attention and wisdom. Not that I regretted. She needed my wisdom to heal from a situation that I put her in... As a parent, as an adult, I was at my most happiest when I realized that from a child with no confidence and no belief in herself, I managed to stir her steps towards confidence, self love and self respect... And for that I am grateful, even if I know that there is so much more to do.

But in giving my all to the one that needed it most, I lost track of the other one. The one that needed cuddles and hugs, that needed to be held, but little else... And I gave her hugs, and cuddles... But I missed the signs to her development...

She was the strong one, the one that needed less... And by focusing on the one that needed most, I missed how the other one grew...

And all of a sudden, like a light going on in a dark room, I was faced with my little one, my strong one... Oh, I knew she was strong, stubborn, cute, lovable, funny, cuddly, smart, beautiful, quick tempered, sweet... I wasn't that blinded that I have not seen all of that... But there were still things about her that I missed... Like her determination, her ability of being honest not only to others, but to herself, her willingness to work hard, to go through whatever necessary to achieve her own goals... And as a parent, I regret not being able to see all of that...

Because one day, I was confronted with a face of this little person that has been around me since two cells met, that I just din not know... Because a person she is!

In the space of two weeks, my stubborn, temperamental child, showed me that behind her otherwise quiet personality, was a determined, ambitious, hard working, honest, wise person... In two weeks, I seen her choosing a goal, working with hard determination regardless of the pain in order to achieve the first step. I was amazed that something that 14 days ago seemed just the bumbling of a child, after only 6 days she attracted the attention of the one person able to help her in what was not her bumbling, but her dream... Oh, I have seen her working hard for one week, working extra, way extra... In a very quiet way, that I would have missed entirely if I wasn't paying attention...  And in the last 4 days I realized that I had in front of me an individual worth of respect.

Oh... My baby took her first step in a road that will be long and hard... Step after step of insanely hard work to achieve a dream that many have tried for many tens of years...

How did I get from looking at her as my baby to looking at her as a person worthy of respect? I'm not sure. I guess it all started with seeing her courage... Her ability to really focus... Her hard, hard work... Day after day, the same quiet way, she worked harder then many adults... Without advice from any of the adults around her, she figured out a way to do what she wanted and do it well. Smart. Determined.

And yet, maybe I would have still believed that it was a childish dream, similar to what her older sister was saying... But tonight, after a two and a half hours of gruesome training, I teased her that I will tie up her legs in order to remember to keep them together in her exercises. I was only kidding. From the back of the car, her little, clear now voice, said '"maybe you should. What I want is hard and I need help"... It made me think. it made me wonder from where so much objectivity, and knowledge from a barely 5 year old that just started... And before I tucked her in bed, as I was hugging her tight and long as she always liked, she told me that she knows she didn't give her all today. She was a bit disappointed because while she understood the requirements properly, she decided to listen to a colleague that knew even less then she did. But she promised that next time, she will just focus and do her best. I told her I think she managed wonderfully, which she did, and that I don't need that promise. "But I do, mama. If I really want to be the second Nadia Comaneci, I need it... And if you can't buy the beam and bars to work extra at home, maybe you can help me with the other stuff that I need." My baby wasn't joking. It was not a tiny child talking. It was someone that chose a path, was realistic, way way mature and incredibly determined. Not to say ambitious. My baby decided to repeat perfection...

I respect her. Not only for her close to impossible dream, but because she is realistic and honest with herself. Because she is willing to work so hard for something many would treat as just a dream. Because she gives her all for the dream she chose.

Olympic Dreams

My 5 year old daughter dreams of being the second Nadia Comaneci. I know nothing about gymnastics and personally I chose education over sports.

I took my girls to gymnastics in a school holiday when both were screaming that they are bored. All that I thought at the time was that they will spend one hour doing something fun and that will be the end of it. It wasn't. The girls begged and begged to actually enroll them. Not being too happy with the idea of having to drive them around even more then I'm already doing, I showed them some YouTube clips with Nadia Comaneci. My thought was that they will get scared and that will be the end of it. Achived the opposite result.

My youngest decided that she will be the second Nadia. So, not too willingly, I enrolled them in the closest club to home. Little did I know that it was one of the best clubs in Sydney or that one week later my 5 year old baby will be sitting an assessment for a pre levels class. I had even less idea about what pre levels means so, after she passed the assessment, I just asked the coach who happily told me that it is the class from which Elite gymnasts are chosen. The problem was that I had no idea what Elite means either. Later, I have been told that is the international competition class. Hmmm... I was very happy for my little one, and selfishly not that much for myself. Not only that we spend 5 hours a week training, but we need to extra train at home at lest 1 hour a day.

And to make things worse, my little gymnast announced me that she can't live without a beam and at least one bar. Considering that we live in an unit, bars were out of the question (lucky for my budget), but I could not find good enough reasons against a beam, so Santa will deliver.

As I said, my knowledge about gymnastics is non existent. So I started to learn in order to keep up with my girls.  (Both of them do gymnastics and one hates me for life at the moment because she was "too old" at 8 years. But I will focus on the little one for now). First thing, I tried to learn the names of all those amazing moves my kid does. I gave up quickly. Then I started to watch documentaries on YouTube. That gives me an education about a sport that seems will occupy at least few years of my life.

The documentaries are amazingly educative. The comments underneath make me angry often. Apparently parents and coaches force children to train in total disregard of injuries. It seems parents are imposing their own dreams on the little girls.

Hmm... To begin with I cherish no dream of spending thousands and thousands of dollars an year for gymnastics. At the moment, without calculating lost hours of work, home equipment, leotards and so on, and fucusing only on the little one's training classes, I'm paying over 2000$ a year. Yuck.

Secondly, I have no particular passion on standing up in a gym to watch my daughter through a window. My feet are totally revolting and I got as far as having to buy flat shoes, instead of my usual high heels.

Thirdly, I'd rather read a book in the bed with my beauties.

Injuries... In gymnastics is a reality. Thankfully, until now I did not have to deal with broken bones or torn ligaments. However, my tiny tot managed to get rips. Rips are blisters that break. Having gotten few myself along the way, I know how painful they are. So, my little child comes out of the gym and shows me her palm. Three red marks where the first layer of skin is gone adorn her palm. I gave her a hug, took her to wash the chalk of her hands and suggested we go home. My well thought suggestion was faced with anger. She refused to go home. Ok, I thought. She will do something else except bars.

I let her go back into the gym and Missy goes straight to the coach. From what I can see, Missy is arguing with the coach. Did I mention that Leyla (my daughter) is only 5? Oh well, her coach, a fantastic woman that I respect, is older then me. Soon after, I see Leyla back onto the bars. Hmm... Not much that I can do other then having a word with her coach after. Which I did. She told me she tried to convince my stubborn child not to do bars for the rest of the day. But she totally ignored that and went straight back into training.

I was not too happy to have no control over   5 year old. So, after we got home and had dinner, I sat her down to give her a piece of my mind. Surprisingly she listened. She rarely does. After I finished, secure in my illusion that I made myself clear, she starts talking.

"Look, mama. I know that today I didn't do as good as I could. I will do better tomorrow. And I know I hurt my hand. And it hurts. But if I want to be the next Nadia, I need to work much harder."

What to say? Where from so much logic all of a sudden? I tried to continue explaining my point, but all I got was that she wants a Perfect 10. I could reproach her the fact that she is stubborn, but would be hypocritical of me as I am stubborn myself. I just had to accept that my 5 year old has a mind of her own and all I can do is to make sure I will be there to catch her when she falls.

I know for a fact that I don't push my child. What is hard to come to terms with is the fact that are areas where I have no control. And I try to be happy that at a bare minimum she chose a sport to channel all her stubbornness into. 

Other then that, right now I pray. Pray for my child to not get hurt, to not break her soul striving for perfection, to not pick up eating disorders... Pray that she achieves her dreams... Not much else I can do other then striving for the impossible myself. That impossible for me is forking all the money for her dream. Because I do not have the power to say no to her. Not to a dream. 

Mother Nature

Feeling a bit off from many points of view, I decided that a bush walk might be in order. Considering that the beautiful Australian bush is right behind my unit, it wasn't such a hard feat to achieve. The reason for why I don't do it more often is because lack of time gives me an excuse for being lazy.

I love my solitary bush walk. Because I leave my worries and my thoughts next to the first tree, it is very much like meditation, just that I carry my loyal photo camera with me. Today was the same like always. A sunny day with deep blue skies that bless the city mainly in spring, nature coming to life and me with my Nikon around the neck.

I'm not sure if it was beautiful. Or better said, only beautiful. It was real. The leaves just moving in the breeze, things moving under the dead leaves, most likely lizards but as i am terrified of reptiles I trying to pretend they were not there, birds softly singing, the water slowly flowing, flowers that came to life... Rocks older then time suspended in physics defying positions... It was real and it was alive.

I love all nature, but the parts of nature that resonate most with me are the mountains and forests. Could be because I spent a good pat of my life in the mountains, or it could be because i am an Earth sign. Most likely are both. Sydney can not offer me mountains or dense forests. But in the bush I find enough of my beloved mountain forests to captivate me.

If I am quiet enough, I can feel the life force of nature resonating in me. Not only forests. But nature in general, pushes me to accept the fact that beyond me and my limited capacity of understanding, there is so much more, that something that I can not see. It reminds me that the same life force that sustains me, exists in every other atom. I'm not good at physics, but I studied it enough to know that once we look at atomic level there is an energy or magnetic field that holds the atoms together. It is what I call life force. And sometimes, stolen by life, I forget to step beyond my ego and see that there is not much difference between me and a rock. I get lost in the egoism typical to my race and consider myself better then the rock.

A walk in the nature reminds me that it is not so. I'm no better or worse that anything else on this planet. The only difference is that I think of myself as more important.

It also fills me with gratitude, another think that I tend to forget in the storms of life. Gratitude that I exist in order to see the beauty around me, gratitude that I can feel, listen, touch, smell, taste and hear. Gratitude that no matter how hard my life seems to be, there are other beings that have it harder.

Nature goes into all my senses. It is real... It is beautiful or terrifying, majestic and gentle, forceful and kind. It can also be unforgiving, more so when we provoke it.

Walking, I wasn't thinking. The entire purpose of my walking was to be a meditation, not a schizophrenic discussion with myself. However, as I was happily losing my self  in nature, I notices all the rubbish around me. Normally it makes me angry when people just dump their rubbish everywhere. But today it made me sad. I was looking at a flower trying to get a little bit of sun from under  an empty can of soft drink and I felt like crying. Not only for that flower. But for every millimiter of this planet drowned in rubbish. For every tree that can not breathe and grow because someone threw their dirty towel on. For every flower that could not exist because a plastic bag was on the ground.

Sitting there, with the empty can in my hand, I could imagine my children stepping on the same path in few years and not being able to see the beauty I was seeing, but only the rubbish dumped everywhere. What a loss! And how unfair!

My walk became a rubbish collection. In one of the plastic bags I so easily found on the ground, I started to pick up empty cans, broken balloons, broken bottles, pieces of plastic and cartoon... I won't go into all the things I picked up and carried to the rubbish bin... I won't even go in all the things I could not pick up...

Why? Why can we not respect the beauty around us? Why do we dump our rubbish everywhere, even though we would not do it in our homes? Isn't our planet the home of our home?

Parenting LOL

I was thinking that all want to be parents need to be warned that nerves of steel, patience of a saint, awareness of a Buddhist and self control of a yogi, are absolute necessities. Or, at a bare minimum, the creativity of a witch and the tricks of a magician.

If someone would have explained that to me, I would have thought twice before having children. I'm not saying that I regret having my children. Mine are two wonderful brats that I love with all my heart and thank to for the number of white hairs that adorn my head. But, before having them, I woud have first learned the above mentioned skills. Why? Because are needed.

Now... To give an example. We were driving to the school, or the driving was done by me, and the kids were more or less settled on the back seats. Seat belts on, my youngest daughter in one of those insanely expensive safety seats... For once, the car was quiet. No one was talking, everyone followed their own thoughts. i should have known that trouble was brewing. After nearly 9 year of parenting, I should have known. However, misled by a morning of peace where only love and nice words were exchanged in my house, I let myself be carried by the illusion that from now on, my kids learned how to get along.  As soon as my brain formulated the thought, I hear:
"Give my pen back. I'm going to kill you!"
"It'  myyyyyy peeen! I gave you mine!!"
Now, when my girls fight, the voices are so loud they could wake up the dead out of their graves. And sharp. I feel my inner ear vibrating in pain. Like that was not enough, soon enough fists start flying. I don't have nerves of steel. Actually my fuse is quite short. I'm totally lacking patience as well. Occasionally I have some self control and as I so nicely found out, I'm not always aware. Therefore, my first instinct was to do what I always do in these situations. Turn around, grab their hands and make then hug. But I could not do that as it would have caused an accident. So, quickly, I wondered what is one thing that my kids can't resist to. Music. They love music and singing along out of tune. So, I quickly put the radio on, and like dolls my kids start singing which is keeping their mouths busy and can't insult each other. Bingo. Ok, in order to achieve that, the music needs to be blasting, but that is a million times better then screaming from the top of their lungs.

So... Self control of a yogi... Did I mention that parenting is painful equally as much as it is a bliss, if not more? If not, it is done now. Parenting is painful. It starts with the labor contractions and never ends. Done wrongly, so is yoga. Given that I do that couple of times a week, I know. The only way to go through pain in yoga is by breathing deeply. Very deeply and very slowly. If you remember that, all is good and relaxing. However, I think that as a parent I need to breathe deeply, slowly, in and out, most moments of the day. Like when I find tiny bits of toilet paper all over the house, thanks to one of my kids' games. Or when I try to enter their bedroom and is impossible because piles and piles of clothes are all over the floor. The reason for that is either a fashion game or a moment of "I can't find my clothes". The worst was when my oldest daughter tried sewing  and forgot to pick up the needles of the carpet. I did. With my bare foot. I can give plenty of examples, one more ridiculous then other. The only way to deal with it without losing my minds, is by breathing. Deeply and slowly.

Patience of a saint... That I was sure I totally lacked, and I still have doubts if it is there or not. Why do you need patience? Because, as a parent, you find yourself repeating the same things day after day. I thought about recording myself and just playing the tape in order to save my voice. It would be awesome if I could explain one thing to my kids only once. And yet, dinner after dinner, 7 times a week, they need explaining and demonstrating how to use the knife, and why. Or homework. Or picking up after themselves. Or why does it rain? Or why can't we eat chocolate all day long. Or why they need to get into bed at a certain hour. Most of these, need in depth explanations at least few times a week, every week, year after year. One needs plenty of patience not to scream and run away.

Nerves of steel... I find that it is very hard to see my children hitting each other without feeling the need to go in and hit both of them, for good measure. Or to deal with my nearly nine year old telling me she is in love and tried to shave her legs. Or to do any of the above without jumping through the roof. Therefore, I need good nerves.

Or perfect self control. Given that I am totally against hitting kids... I do need to control myself so the back of my hand does not fly on it's on...

The awareness is an absolute must because one never knows what their kids are up to. For example, few years back, I bought some CDs and tapes  from my country. Now, I hardly ever visit my country anymore and what I buy from there is precious. As I was doing some work, at the time film producing, my daughter got stuck into my tapes. She tried to make me a surprise by unwinding every single one of them and making pretty knots. As you can imagine, it was a surprise that was very hard to appreciate. However, if I would have been aware of what my daughter was up to, it would have been easily avoided.

The creativity of a witch. Or an artist. Which ever one you prefer. That is for the necessity of figuring up very fast how can you push your kids in a different direction. Like when one of my daughters got stuck into my nail polish collection, and a collection it is, and decided to try and paint with it on the door. For damage control I had to figure really fast another activity that would have been more appealing for my artist of a kid. That is creativity used to the max. Hardly any is left for my job.

Pulling rabbits out of the hat... I don't wear hats and have no particular talent in pulling rabbits out of anywhere. However, it is useful to be able to achieve the impossible when one has kids. For example, in order to settle them down. The music in the morning, or any as such, are good examples. Useful... Often a necessity... But there is one more instance in which one needs to know how to pull rabbits... or anything else... For example, sometimes, as my income is dependent on finding clients, if I don't find enough of them, I'm short with money. I think that most of us can relate to that. And that day, when the budget is very tight, the beauty of the child, decides that will die instantly if they don't have a specific type of chocolate... or anything else... Ipods, laptops ad so on... Now, chocolate I can pull out of my hat offering to make some at home. The only solution to fix the other ones is either to say NO, which in my experience ends with screaming, crying, banged doors and "you destroy my life", or to find a way to satisfying that need. Most times, I say no and ignore the tantrum, even if I need to stick my headphones in my ears and put music on in order to not hear it. But are other times, when I either have to be creative in my explanations are promises, or pull the rabbit out. Usually that means borrowing my things to my kids for a period of time...

I just wish there was a book to explain all the above to me before I had children. I would have been so grateful! I would have had a career first, traveled the world, spent months in a yoga retreat, took  whole bunch of seminars so I don't have to learn on the go, and then I would have had kids... And just maybe, I would have avoided half the situations I'm confronted with in this wonderful and non stop job of being a parent. LOL

Who am I and who am I not

I am a very determined, mostly stubborn, highly cultured woman that loves herself. It happens that I am a woman that loves others as well. Not only other people, but other things. Like books, many books, sunsets, rock, crystals, plants, my planet. For my planet I do what I can. I pick up my rubbish and occasionally other people’s rubbish, I recycle, I use green energy… Not nearly enough, but it is what I can do right now.

I am a mother. a single mother of two girls and as such I go through all the joy and desperation of parenting. I love my children. I respect my children. I would jump in fire for them without a second thought. But while they came of me, they don’t belong to me, but to themselves…

I am a daughter and a sister… In that area I don’t do much other then existing. If  I could, I would do fancy dinners at home, coffees and lots of chats. Probably I would also help where possible. As it happens, I live on the other side of the planet from my parents and siblings so I don’t do much.
Occasionally, when the mood strikes me, I am a lover. Not very often but as I don’t have enough time to dedicate to relationships, since I have so many other interests that keep my busy. I am independent, highly capable of looking after myself therefore I am not needy for relationships. I only do it for pleasure.

I am a friend. I can only hope that a good one, but that remains for my friends to decide.

Sometimes, as my children so carefully and half embarrassed point out, I am weird. I think that in a broad sense that means that I don’t conform to the norms.  I dance barefoot in the worst rains, I wear summer dresses in winter if the mood strikes, I wear hand painted hippy clothes one day, business clothes the next and maybe next to noting another day… I’m allergic to my own hair, I cry if I break a nail, I laugh when I’m sad and cry when I’m happy, I state my opinions regardless if everyone else thinks differently. Also, I am totally able to do crazy things that make no sense to anyone but me.

I am a witch… By that I don’t mean that my wardrobe is only composed of black clothes that belonged few centuries back or that my favorite way of spending my time is burning in fire, even though I do love a good open fire next to which I can relax. However, my element is Earth and as such I could spend a life time gazing at the mountains. By being a witch I mean that I think that with the power of my thoughts I can change my reality. I also mean that sometimes I weave a spell, other times I meditate, always respect All life, including the one I eat and occasionally heal others. For me, it means as well, that all gods are equally as good, even though I relate to Goddesses more.

I am a photographer. By that I mean that I love taking photographs even when I am paid to do it. Also, I create clothes. I make them, paint them… Both are ways of expressing myself that have the added benefit on sometimes being paid for it.

I am not greedy. I totally understand the value of money and utterly enjoy spending them, but I don’t see them as important in the big scheme of things.

I am addicted to coffee. I could drink up to ten coffees a day and then have a perfectly peaceful sleep.

I am a dreamer. I dream of  world in which no one will die of starvation, wars, or religion and our children will have an unpolluted planet to live on.

What am I not? I’m not a follower. I make my own decisions and trends.

I am not patient person, especially with ignorance. If I can read and expand my horizons, everyone can do it. No excuses accepted. If one is ignorant, with me are only two options: either inform oneself or shut up. Black and white. I don’t have an issue with anyone that say’s I don’t know. I only have an issue with not knowing and still talking about the subject. For example, I have no idea about physics. Not only that I have no idea, but I have no interest in it whatsoever. So if I am in a group that talks physics, I listen, but I don’t express opinions as I don’t know enough to have an opinion.

I am not intolerant. By that I mean that there are things I am highly intolerant of, like child abuse and domestic violence, and very tolerant with other things, like other people’s religions as long as they don’t try to convert me.

I am not stupid. As a matter of fact I have a very high IQ and I do my best to use more then 10% of my brain. While I do understand that not everyone has a high IQ, I don’t understand why other people refuse to use more then 10% of their brain, such as it is.

I am not a man. That means that I am a woman and hence I think and I feel like one.

And I care nothing about what other people think of me. I love and respect myself too much to allow other people opinions about me to drag me down.

I am not humble. More so, I see no point in being one. However, while I am arrogant, I am smart enough to listen to other people and be able to change my opinions if there are good enough reasons to do so.

Because I have no need for people to like me, I tend to be mostly honest.

  

Arrogance ramblings

In the last couple of days I have been told countless times that I am arrogant. What is arrogance? And does it have any uses at all?

The dictionary says “arrogance – overbearing pride evidenced by a superior manner toward inferiors”. I must admit that I was feeling a bit stuck and that is a feeling that I don’t like in particular. I have a need to know that goes way beyond intellectual curiosity. For me, this need to know everything, most importantly myself goes beyond hunger… Is an elemental need. I don’t say it should be the same for everyone. I just say that that’s how it is for me. Not liking this feeling of being stuck without an answer, I went into the search for an answer. Am I arrogant? And what exactly is perceived as arrogance? Does it have any uses?  I’m good at research. I’m very good at it. But what I am even better at is finding answers within myself, so I went on the journey of finding it as I know best. I meditated. I sat down in a quiet place, at an hour when everything was still within and without. Lit a candle, for whatever reason I find it easier to focus with a candle. And I took many calming breaths. More so as I knew that whatever answers I find, chances are that I will be affected by them one way or another.

What did i find? Oh well, to begin with, i do have a very healthy dose of arrogance. Yes, i do feel superior to others. Does not sound pleasant, but that’s who i am. Why do i have this feeling of superiority? Oh well, because i am proud of myself. Very proud of myself. I even give myself pats on the back for the things i achieved that matter to me. Why do i feel so proud of myself? Because i worked damn hard for everything i have, from possessions to culture and education. Because nothing came on a platter as much as i would have liked, and in order to be who i am, i have made sacrifices… The one i sacrificed the most was my ego.

That sounds like a contradiction, isn’t it? How could have i sacrificed my ego but still be arrogant? To begin with, i had to accept that i know nothing. Again, something that i don’t really like doing. My ego tells me that i know everything and some. But in order to reach a point of being proud of myself, i had to accept that no matter how much i try, there will be countless things i will know nothing about, For example quantum physics. Oh well, my ego tells me that if i really try, i can come up with couple of sentences to describe this type of physics. By sheer chance, those sentences might be even accurate. But the reality is that i have no idea about physics. And not only the quantum one. My brain had no interest in it, therefore i am totally uneducated in that area. Stings. A lot. I pride myself through my culture. But i know nothing. So, i can either go and research it to the point where i have an understanding of it, or i can just leave it at i don’t know. Me, being me, most likely i will go and research it in depth, until i know some. And that requests that i put a lot of effort and time into it. For me, that time and effort are well used. If i go past the ego that tells me i know everything, i can actually admit that i know nothing and do something constructive about knowing it. And because i have to put so much effort into that and sacrificed not only my ego, but my pleasures as well, i am proud of myself. I gave up an hour of gossiping with friends for one hour of making a little bit more light into the dark cavern that is my brain. And for that, i am very proud of myself. Even more so when i can look myself in the eyes and tell myself :”Alex, the more you know, the less you know. and you know nothing while you know everything”. That asks for courage.

Why is accepting courage? Because i don’t like accepting something that tells me that i am not as good as i want to be. I mean, i want to think of myself as smart, cultured, well educated, wise. I don’t like to say that i know nothing because first of all it denies all the things i worked so hard to know. But first of all saying that i know nothing, accepting this terrible blow to my ego, leaves me room for improvement. So the one hour i give up, becomes two.

And this brings me to my favorite parts about arrogance. I am proud of myself because i make the effort and because i worked hard to improve myself and because i know a whole lot of teensy-winsy things about a whole bunch of things. Now, arrogance comes into it when i put all the effort, make all the sacrifices in order to know (in my case) and others not only that refuse to put the effort into it, but expect everything nicely delivered in their lap. And i am arrogant because i do openly admit that i am better then them. I am not perfect and are other people that know much more then i do, about much more things. But i make an effort and i simply don’t get it why others refuse to make it.

The opposite of arrogance s humbleness which is defined as “humbleness – the state of being humble and unimportant”.  I have a very healthy dose of humbleness as well. It goes hand in hand with arrogance at me, like the other side of the coin. I want to be feel superior and I’m certainly happy with being proud of myself. But if i want to stay as such (proud, superior), i need to admit to myself that i have a lot of space for improvement. That admission is my humbleness. What i don’t see any point in doing, though, is to say that i am dumb when i know for a fact that i am not. Or to say that i am ugly when i am not. For me, that is not being humble. For me, that is committing a crime against myself by not respecting myself.

Why do we need to respect ourselves? Let see. An example that came into my head while i was meditating, that combined self respect with arrogance and humbleness was the following.

Over the millenniums of our civilasation, people, scientists of a kind or another, made discoveries. Lets take for example, the wheel. Someone, very wise, obserrved that if you take a round stone and push it on the ground it moves smoothly and with quite a bit of speed. He, or she, took that information and created the first stone wheel. What that did was to create wonders for agriculture. Some year later, another person thought that that wheel could be improved. That was arrogance because the person would have thought of himself as being more smart then the others. If that person had a humbelness complex, would have thought that he/she is not important enough to tell other people how to make changes. On the other hand, if that person had enough sef respect to admit that he/she is important and smart enough, would have gone and told his fellow tribesmen that he can make a better wheel. The head of the trbe would have looked at this person and thought that is insanity. But with the self respect, that person started to work hard to create this new way of having a better wheel. After a while, he ended up with a much better wheel. He could be very proud of both the result and the effort. And he or she, was superior to his fellow men because he invented something. Therefore, that person was arrogant. 

Whitout enough arrogance of thinking that a difference can be made, we would still have a stone wheel. And so on. we ca take everything and recognize the same blue print for it.

Why would i choose to put myself down by being practicing humbleness when i can make a difference into my own life by being arrogant? Why should i not respect the effort i put into everything? What benefit would that have for me or for the society i live in? Nix. Nada. Nothing. Putting myself down will achieve only into being another unhappy person, and there are plenty of those. There is no need for me to add one more to that group. And chances are that because i put myself down by practicing a fake humbleness that tells me i am not important enough, i will not even start doing something. I will condemn myself to a life where nothing will ever be achieved or improved. That is unhealthy for me and all the ones around me. On the other hand, if i practice the real humbleness – i am good, i am nearly perfect and i can always improve- i will feel nothing but encouraged to start putting the effort into something. Putting that effort into something, will result in me being proud of myself, putting even more effort into it and ending up being superior, which is a good place to be. And that i arrogance. And it is healthy. Yeap, there are others more superior then me, but that will not stop me. Why should i build a two levels building if i can build a hundred levels building?

Anyway, this are the ramblings of my brain during meditation. 

So yeah, i am humble enough to admit that i can be better, and arrogant enough to know that if i put the effort into it, i am better.