Listening
Once again a way how we as human beings could interpret the words of another human being amazes me. Even if we do speak the same language and all participants are keen to understand each other…I think we listen to the words after we have already decided what we are going to hear. And this decision normally will be based on our own personal perceptions. So in effect we hear things we think they say. We put the words into interlocutor’s mouth before they even speak. With imagination like mine it is no surprise that I’m running wild with the conclusions that have nothing to do with reality…time to learn to L I S T E N!
Conventionalities
I’ve been in correspondence with my friend. We discussed an issue of conventionalities. In reference to the frequency of getting in touch. My friend made a point that often we would communicate only because it is customary. That some times all communication can be reduced to the christmas&birthday greetings and in fact people are not interested in each other’s life, but just being polite. That people take only what they need from another in any particular moment. That very few can make an effort to take “anything” that another willing to share. And that most of us just pretend to be interested for the sake of keeping the proprieties…
Having thought about it and how it relates to my life in particular, I was happy to come to conclusion that most of my friendships don’t fall into that category. We do greet birthdays and other holidays of course, but we also keep in touch at times when we truly want to do so. Not as polite gesture. It is true that not many things could be shared, even between friends. But somehow this doesn’t bother me and none of my friends. I think that my friend was wrong in one thing: to be in touch with a friend doesn’t mean just willingness to know all about their life’s events. It is showing them that you think of them. Every now and then.
Time Hater
More and more I hate him. He is the one who barges into my life and messes everything in it. He is the one who likes to play practical jokes when all I ask of him – to be cooperative. He makes me do things I don’t want to do and he always late for things I have been looking forward to. He orders me to bed when I’m wild awake and wake me up so rudely from my beautiful dreams. But the most cruel thing he does – he divides…If I would to draw a portrait of Time, it would’ve been a scary picture. He would have an evil face with the crooked smile. Black cloak with wide flaps which he can just fling open and fade away all the good things within the endless tunnels. And a black hat, pulled over his eyes…so that you’d never recognise him until he’s past. What good can be about Time, anyway? Have anyone got any reasons to like such a mean essence?!
Cooking remote.
Today I’ve been cooking…remotely. Apparently, my son, who is currently at university, has gone all nostalgic (or bored) and decided to make “Okroshka”. This is a Russian traditional cold soup with chopped vegetables and special beverage, which I can’t really translate to explain the meaning. So, my dear Kid, bless him, had this sudden craving today and went all the way through with the cooking. And tugged along his mom of course. It goes like this:
- Midday. Telephone call. “ma, I wanna make Okroshka. What do I need for it?”.
Ma explained patiently.
- An hour later. Telephone call. “ma, I’m in the shop and I can’t find…”
“ok, you can replace “this” with “that” and “that” with “this”, son”
- Few hours later. Telephone call. “how to tell if the vegetables are prepared…” (they supposed to be cooked before)
Ma explained patiently.
- Then there was a series of brief telephone calls per each different ingredient separately.
In the end of the cooking fun we both felt so fed (up) with Okroshka that decided to convert it to another dish, while it was still possible.
What I’ve learned from this? That my son is stubborn enough to waste his whole day on one exotic meal; that he was not too hungry otherwise he’d gave up way before; that he is responsible enough not to live on fast food and frozen pizzas and that it is not always possible to cook traditional food with non-traditional ingredients.
Once again a way how we as human beings could interpret the words of another human being amazes me. Even if we do speak the same language and all participants are keen to understand each other…I think we listen to the words after we have already decided what we are going to hear. And this decision normally will be based on our own personal perceptions. So in effect we hear things we think they say. We put the words into interlocutor’s mouth before they even speak. With imagination like mine it is no surprise that I’m running wild with the conclusions that have nothing to do with reality…time to learn to L I S T E N!
Conventionalities
I’ve been in correspondence with my friend. We discussed an issue of conventionalities. In reference to the frequency of getting in touch. My friend made a point that often we would communicate only because it is customary. That some times all communication can be reduced to the christmas&birthday greetings and in fact people are not interested in each other’s life, but just being polite. That people take only what they need from another in any particular moment. That very few can make an effort to take “anything” that another willing to share. And that most of us just pretend to be interested for the sake of keeping the proprieties…
Having thought about it and how it relates to my life in particular, I was happy to come to conclusion that most of my friendships don’t fall into that category. We do greet birthdays and other holidays of course, but we also keep in touch at times when we truly want to do so. Not as polite gesture. It is true that not many things could be shared, even between friends. But somehow this doesn’t bother me and none of my friends. I think that my friend was wrong in one thing: to be in touch with a friend doesn’t mean just willingness to know all about their life’s events. It is showing them that you think of them. Every now and then.
Time Hater
More and more I hate him. He is the one who barges into my life and messes everything in it. He is the one who likes to play practical jokes when all I ask of him – to be cooperative. He makes me do things I don’t want to do and he always late for things I have been looking forward to. He orders me to bed when I’m wild awake and wake me up so rudely from my beautiful dreams. But the most cruel thing he does – he divides…If I would to draw a portrait of Time, it would’ve been a scary picture. He would have an evil face with the crooked smile. Black cloak with wide flaps which he can just fling open and fade away all the good things within the endless tunnels. And a black hat, pulled over his eyes…so that you’d never recognise him until he’s past. What good can be about Time, anyway? Have anyone got any reasons to like such a mean essence?!
Cooking remote.
Today I’ve been cooking…remotely. Apparently, my son, who is currently at university, has gone all nostalgic (or bored) and decided to make “Okroshka”. This is a Russian traditional cold soup with chopped vegetables and special beverage, which I can’t really translate to explain the meaning. So, my dear Kid, bless him, had this sudden craving today and went all the way through with the cooking. And tugged along his mom of course. It goes like this:
- Midday. Telephone call. “ma, I wanna make Okroshka. What do I need for it?”.
Ma explained patiently.
- An hour later. Telephone call. “ma, I’m in the shop and I can’t find…”
“ok, you can replace “this” with “that” and “that” with “this”, son”
- Few hours later. Telephone call. “how to tell if the vegetables are prepared…” (they supposed to be cooked before)
Ma explained patiently.
- Then there was a series of brief telephone calls per each different ingredient separately.
In the end of the cooking fun we both felt so fed (up) with Okroshka that decided to convert it to another dish, while it was still possible.
What I’ve learned from this? That my son is stubborn enough to waste his whole day on one exotic meal; that he was not too hungry otherwise he’d gave up way before; that he is responsible enough not to live on fast food and frozen pizzas and that it is not always possible to cook traditional food with non-traditional ingredients.