Happiness is a matter of focus

this is a flower, not an insect

Happiness is a matter of focus.

Talking lately with some people, they asked me how do I manage to be so optimistic, so happy.

Got me thinking. How do I do it? I guess I focus on the positive. On my friends' big, honest smiles. On the beauty of team work. I focus on the small details that make my day better.

I know there are difficulties. I listen when someone is in need. I know there are bad news. I choose not to reproduct and spread them. I train myself not to feel overwhelmed by the bad stuff. This too shall pass.

Being optimistic, brings happy people my way. The bright side of life can only bring you bright experiences.

We are bigger, stronger than we think we are. We can make a difference.

As spring approaches, I am driving, rehearsing and teaching. three things I have never done before in my life. I am learning, getting out of my comfort zone. The reward is smiles from the kids I teach, smiles from my fellow amateur actors, smiles from my inner self when I manage to park the car or complete a difficult manoeuvre.

To travel is to learn. To travel is to change perspectives always.

observing my surroundings

"Theatre is a waste of time." This is what a painter told me today.

I would understand it if the words came out of a mouth of anyone else who is not appreciative of the arts in general. But it came out of the mouth of an artist. I was so shocked that I did not ask him what he meant.  

Did he understand the heaviness of this statement? Is he thinking about it like I do right now? Most probably no, he is not.

In the past few days all I do is observe people. Observe what they say, how they critisize, what they have to say about others. Sometimes it comes to me as a surprise, as a shock.

Generalizations, taboos, stereotypes, are all here in my every day life. Being gay is bad, being a man actor is being gay, people who like avant garde are people who smell bad and never shave... to name but a few.

I try to stand up for gays and the avant garde and being different. I am not always succesful because the shock is to strong and my tongue and mind are not as quick.

The only thing I can really do is watch - think - process the data.

This small town and it's people have yet a lot to learn.

these little creatures called applauds

Almost a week ago I read this question: "where do applauds go?"

It got me thinking.

Applauds are approval, reward to something that exhites us. See the picture: In a theatre, thousands of applauds fly away. Some of them fly into the heart of the performer. Some stay in the theatre and they become ghosts. Sit in an empty, quiet theatre and  you will hear the ghosts. Some might even fly out of the theatre into the street. Into the rain. One applaude might touch a bird, or even climb the birds' back and fly with it. Another applaude might fall on the pavement. It will get stuck underneath a sole. Another one might stay on the branches of a tree. From there it can look to the passers-by.

Applauds are funny little creatures. They fly around and then creep into our hearts. Can we hear them? Can we listen to these little applauds in our heads? Do we ever applaud ourselves? If we do, do we keep them inside, or do we let them fly away like they never existed?

Give applauds credit. Sit still and very quiet. You might hear one, two, three, five, ten, a hundred applauds surrounding you. They are for you. No one else.

this is my life. it's good

 Six days ago I met a virus. I opened the door and let him in, let him stay on my couch. He drank my coffee and slept in my bed. While he was making himfelf at home, I was feeling like shit and had really high fever. I could not consentrate on anything, could not read, could not see anything on facebook, I could only stay in bed with my virus.

It's been years since I had a virus and it was interesting to see how my body was reacting. I let it make it's circle, treating it with nothing more than paracetamol, soups and orange juice.

Meanwhile, life outside was continuing, my theatre classes continued, my friends met up... I guess I needed time off from the world.

Now for the good news. My book is finished and gone to the lawyer for copyright. I'm so exhited and scared that it's going to be published! The work continues. Find an editor, find someone to fill it with drawings... Besides what is a children's book without drawings?

I'm still driving. I'm good at it. Very relaxed, although these past two days a bit dizzy from the virus encounter...

Last but not least... My team. Back when I moved to this city, I would not believe it if you told me I was going to have the most incredible time of my life. But it is true. When I decided to join the theatre for amature actors of the city, I would never have thought I would meet such wonderful, creative people. At fisrt we were all intimidated, eyes looking down, not talking much, trying to figure out where everyone was coming from. Slowly we opened up, we got to know each other. Each one in this team for different reasons. To meet new people, to see what theatre is all about, to fulfill an old dream...

I do not exactly remember when the spark was lit. But there was a spark in every face, a spark in every soul. We danced and we drank and we laughed toghether and we became something special. A team of individuals. It might be too early to talk about a family, but it looks like one. Groups of people have special potentials. And they are hard to find. I am so greaatful to have stepped out of my comfort zone to meet them. I hope next year, to be able to talk with such warmth about each and every member of this team. For now I'm just greatful they exist and I keep smiling in these grim times.

Life is good and this is my life.

driving

Yesterday I took my first driving lesson!

Learning how to drive has been in my mind for several months now. Being behind the steering wheel. Driving. The symbology behind it. Driving my own life. Not being dependent on others for my transportation. Getting Freeda into a car. Going to the river. The mountain. The sea. Anywhere.

My years on the bicycle helped a lot. Figuring out the details of how the pedals work is to be learned.

fairytales

Yes, the five-year-old inside me likes to make up fairytales about monsters and dragons and locked up princesses! The five year old gets stressed and the adult is not there. I would not have this blog if I did not like fairytales and stories. 

I do admit it.

My beloved monster was there and now it's gone back to its' cage. 

Two free mornings and the stress is gone. No, not free mornings. Mornings working for myself. Work for my classes. My beloved classes. Research. 

My Monday Art History class for adults. The difference between Baroque and Roccoco. Johannes Vermeer. My Friday Crafts class for kids. Leonardo Da Vinci. He drew the first parachute. So much fun. So much love. So much relief.

The smile is back on my face. 

Have a good day!

question

I am angry these days. Angry and stressed. Remember when I said yes to a voluntaly job in a gallery? Well I want to stop working there. I want to have time to organize my lessons, start sewing again, start my driving lessons, finish my book... The gallery is taking too much of my time. And this is eating me. Swallowing me like a monster. I want to scream, to say "enough" and the words just don't come out of my mouth.

This is not unfamiliar. In fact, it is the commonest pattern of my life. Back in Italy I could not say "enough" to Lorenzo. Back in Skyros, I could not say "enough" when I was tired. Back in the days when I had normal jobs, I could not say "enough" to my bosses.

And this word becomes the monster. "Enough". The monster with the burning eyes. If I dare utter it, it will not only destroy me, it will destroy everything I have succeded so far.  It might be simple, yes. When you are dancing outside the circle. When you are in the circle it is different. Difficult.

I do know, that once I have done it, it will seem like a ballon which has lost all it's air.

So why is it so difficult every single time? I will never stop wondering.

last year - now

 Time is an illusion. However, we tend to review every passing year. Where were we? What was going on this time last year?

Last year.
2011 going to 2012.
In the hospital. A dying boyfriend. New year presents in the hospital. Trying to keep hope alive. Trying to make a dying soul happy. Trying to understand our own mortality.

Then February came and his death came.

What was I going to do? How was I going to live? Was I going to live the life I always wanted? I changed everything. Moved to a new town, a new house. My family was close. Old friends where deep inside my heart. New friends were just around the corner. Elina emerged. Started living again.

This years' christmas celebrations were intense. I said yes to every invitation, I would stay out all night. No alcohol, just drinking the moments. Drinking life. Being happy in a dull moment, as well as, a sparkling moment. I sang and danced and had a good time. Defying mortality.

Enjoying nature. Enjoying the river. Enjoying the sunny crisp cold weather.

Breathing.

In less than a week my hectic schedule will start again. And I'm greatful. I'll start teaching more kids and hopefully more adults. Theatre classes will beging again.

And a gift to myself. A driver's licence. I never allowed myself to drive anything else but a bicycle. I was always expecting someone else to drive. Someone else to lead the way. But now I dream of having my own car. Get into it, get Freeda inside and off we go. Anywhere.

Have a good day and happy new year!

New letter to my dad

Christmas day.
I am not as loyal to this blog as I used to be. I used to write almost everyday. And now I write a couple of posts every month.

It's on my mind all the time. I am thinking about the new letter I want to write to my dad. A new letter to thank him for everything he is. Two years ago I wrote him a letter. I knew he did not read it back then. This time I know he will read both letters. And he will understand both of them.

So.

Dear dad.

Thank you. Thank you for being so patient with me. Thank you for disagreeing. Thank you for the loving, understanding environment you provided for me when I was a child. Thank you for keeping the door open for me. I knew the door was always open. And that is what gave me the courage to do every crazy thing I could think of. I knew the door was always open. To return.

You always wanted me to be strong. And I was. You wanted the best for me. And I did not always choose what was best for me. You wanted me to be fearless. Independent. And I was scared. Dependent. And I denied it. You wanted me to use my knowledge and strength. And I did not. People saw the outside. The package. The package was just this. A package. My soul deep deep inside was hurting.

Whatever I did in the past was an accumulation of images, adventures, experiences. With or without you. Mostly without you. I was the big girl. I could do it alone.

The time has passed. We both left the edges and we came closer to the middle. The middle is nice, safe, warm, loving, understanding. I'm so grateful we managed to find the middle before you check out. I am listening. You are listening.

And this time is not about approval. It is about two equal adults discussing. It is about sharing. It is about accepting. It is about listening.

Thank you.

This quiet happiness...

December. Nine months in this city. This city that keeps giving me thrills and joys. I used to hate this city. I was 17 and the world was ahead of me. It was normal.

Now I'm back here. I'm different and so is the place. I keep meeting new, wonderful people. I miss my friends in Athens. But I'm here now.

This crisis business will either work positively or negatively. There are two kinds of people.

One kind sits and adores its misery, indulging in worst case scenarios and blaming everyone else.

The other kind is perpetually searching for a deeper meaning, finds light in the dark, creates from ashes.

This city is giving me good photographs. And lots of inspiration. One day, I saw my friend Sophia's photos. She had taken her photographs and put them as cover to some notebooks. It was a really great idea. And I took permission to do the same. My photographs haven't been used for a long time and it was time to do something about it. I worked on it, made samples, got help from a graphic designer and made them. The result pleases me and I have already sold many. If you want to know more about my new notebooks, check out my artifacts website here.

This crisis blessing - as I prefer to call it - has made many young, talented, inspired people to come back to their roots. The more we are, the more change we will bring in the city. We are educated, we have travelled and we have the strength to make some changes. Sometimes I can feel the magic sparkle when I meet someone who has just arrived or is here for a year or so. The sparkle of recognition. The sparkle of someone who probalby feels the same. A sparkle that we can make into a fire. This fire might burn the old. I am a dreamer. I believe that this town I used to hate can be transformed into the town I love. The town I will always have as a base between my travels.

I am quietly happy.