Tag Archives: joy

Love everlasting

05 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by in Observations

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Rachel Eunice Ostrom Lindahl took her last breath on 5 March, 2014. Not unexpected, yet still a jolt – – and continues to be. A sweet part of my life is missing. I’m re-posting this in honor of her.

199901_1006926894756_3886_nThis is Rachel and me. Rachel is the mother of my best friend, Laurel, and I’ve known her my entire life, since I was about one year old. She’s my other mother and is as important to me as any of my own family members. She’s my friend. Rachel is quiet and shy. She’s sensitive, loving, sweet. And she loves to laugh! Especially with (at) Laurel and me!

Laurel and I have been friends forever and have our own quirky humor and, after so many years together, a unique energy flows between us. In fact, Laurel’s family mostly rolls their eyes at us when we get going with our little tricks that make us (and Rachel) laugh. We’re like sister twins that have developed our own language and that language always includes quick-witted comments and hilarity. But my relationship with Laurel is another story. This is about Rachel.

About one year ago Rachel began feeling unsteady on her feet and developed a slight shake. After lots of doctoring and medications, she’s got a diagnosis and is learning to adapt to the fact that she requires 24-hour care. But I’m not writing this to discuss her symptoms or her diagnosis. I’m writing about Rachel and what she means to me and what it’s like to see someone you love struggle with pain and lack of mobility.

Rachel is tall and statuesque. She has a beautiful smile and sparkling blue eyes. You notice her in a room and you’re drawn to her sweet countenance. She’s beautiful. She’s naive in a way, believing in the best parts of people always; accepting us how we are. She loves unconditionally. She’s sentimental. She feels pain deeply and carries it with her: The loss of her dear twin sister, Joan. The eventual dissolution of her marriage. The loss first of her father, then her mother. And now the sudden failing of her body.

“It’s hard,” she sometimes says. And we know it’s true. We know how hard it is for this active and graceful woman to be confined to her uncooperative body. And we all suffer in our own way for her, for her loss, for her sadness. For our loss, our sadness.

But here’s the thing that buoys me: Rachel is still tall and statuesque. She still exudes sweetness and shyness and beauty and joy. She laughs. She’s still herself. There’s still time for me to let her know how deep my love is for her; what she’s done for me in life.

She represents to me love and acceptance and joy. Unfailing. She’s always curious about my life. She enjoys hearing what’s going on with me. She loves listening to me talk and laugh. She wants me around. She loves me. She loves me now and she has always loved me. She knows me!

And the best part of it all is that I still have time to let her know how important she is to me. I can still put puzzles together with her, I can still talk with her, and I can still laugh with her.

The other day we were all joking about how I didn’t want to get up from puzzling to go to the bathroom. I asked Rachel if she would “go” for me so that I wouldn’t have to get up. A silly conversation, but we all laughed. But then she looked straight at me with her beautiful blue eyes and said I could sit on her lap in her wheelchair and she would wheel me in there if I needed her to. I laughed. But she was serious and she said, “Because I would do that for you Janie. I would do anything for you.” I stopped laughing and looked back at her and said, “I know you would do that for me, Rachel. I know you would.” And it felt so good to know that she would; to know that this woman loves me and would do anything for me. And I would do the same for her.

A house in Marrakech

09 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by in Morocco house, Observations

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m reading ‘A House in Fes: Building a Life in the Ancient Heart of Morocco’ by Suzanna Clarke. It’s not the first time I’ve read this book and it won’t be the last. Since I read most books on an iPad / Kindle, I can see which passages impressed me the first time by the highlights placed in yellow.  This time around I’ve added even more since I can relate more fully to Suzanna’s experiences. In fact, it may serve better to highlight the parts to which I don’t relate!

While vacationing in Morocco, Suzanna and her husband were inspired to purchase a home in Fes, one of the medieval walled cities that is one of Morocco’s famed ‘Imperial Cities.’ But the Clarke’s didn’t just buy any old house. They bought a dilapidated, centuries-old house with no plumbing, no electricity, and myriad other issues with which to contend! Their goal was to restore it using only traditional craftsmen and handmade materials. It’s a great story chronicling the restoration of the house, but it also offers an insight into Moroccan customs and lore, as well as a window into the lives of its people and the relationships Suzanna forges. In the end, the house, Riad Zany in Fes, is restored to probably even more than its former glory and the writer (and most likely Sandy, her husband) have ended up restoring themselves to the very core of their beings! I enjoyed the book the first time around but I’m enjoying it even more now that I have my own perspective on Morocco and home-ownership there.

The writer Paul Bowles called Morocco a place where travelers ‘expect mystery, and they find it.’ He also said, ‘Africa is a big place and will offer its own suggestions.’ There’s no better way to find these truths out than to own a house or to renovate one, like Suzanna Clarke did.

A few of the highlighted passages that strike a chord with me:

“Maybe it was a fit of madness, but on just our second visit to the old Moroccan capital of Fes, my husband and I decided to buy a house there – – as one does in a foreign country where you can’t speak the language and have virtually nothing in common with the locals.” (I strongly disagree with the last phrase. Although I barely speak the language, I find I have a lot more in common with the locals than not!)

“Nevertheless, [we] responded to Morocco in a way we had to no other country. We found it as multi-layered and intriguing as the patterns in the tile work adorning the buildings, each of which has its own hidden meaning. Morocco has the mystique of a land from the Old Testament yet appears to be coping comfortably with modernization… Outside mosques, running shoes are lined up next to pointy-toed babouches. In the souks, women wearing long robes and headscarves escort daughters with beautifully cut hair and high heels. You can eat at a street stall, in a Parisian-style cafe, or next to a tinkling fountain in an ornate courtyard. You can find yourself in the midst of a crazy, honking traffic jam, or dodging donkeys in cobbled alleyways, or riding a camel in the solitude of the Sahara.”

“There were obvious drawbacks, like the nuttiness of buying a house on the other side of the planet, a leg-cramping, blood clot-inducing, [12-hour journey] away. And just when would we actually get to spend time there? Our jobs consumed our lives… When exactly would we fit in a commitment to a property in another country?”

The writer Paul Bowles also said this: “Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well.  Yet everything happens only a certain number times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty… And yet it all seems limitless.”

It’s because of this sentiment, because of the fact that I don’t know when I will die, and because now Morocco is so deeply a part of my being, that I decided to do the nutty thing of buying a house on another continent in a country where I barely speak the language! And it’s because I cannot conceive of my life without this beautiful, vibrant, and mysterious place!

A juxtaposition

31 Friday May 2013

Posted by in Morocco

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

In my experience, Morocco is a strange juxtaposition of extreme kindness and sweetness, to loud and robust anger – – followed by a hug and a kiss. The pendulum swings wide. One minute two people are screaming at each other in an intersection, the next they’re hugging and kissing with hands over their hearts. Or a driver nearly plows through a group of pedestrians and the next they’re all sweet and apologizing about who’s in the wrong, incha’allah. I think the language itself lends itself to that because it’s so up-and-down in intonation that it sometimes might sound angry when really it isn’t. And they use hand gestures that in the USA we would be inclined to say ‘calm down!’ But here? Normal.

Being here has taught me to calm down. Tranquil. Incha’allah. Things are going to happen as they are so I might as well calm down about it and take it slowly. I like it. I like not being in the rat race. Incha’allah.

Life’s too long…

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in Observations

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Image…to not do at least some of the things you really want to do.

Working full time can be draining. Especially in sales where it seems we’re always chasing/being chased by numbers. Good, but never quite good enough with this product line or that product line. Good, but not as good as last year. Good, but next year more is expected. Always room for improvement. While that constant treadmill of achievement is what drives me to be better and better, it does wear a person out. The blade gets dull.

To sharpen my blade, I travel. I have to. There’s nothing else in life that gives me the burst of life, the energy, or the enthusiasm that travel gives. 

People tell me all the time they wish they could travel like I do. They think I have unlimited amounts of time to dedicate to it. I don’t; I just save up every ounce of vacation for it. And if it’s a priority, you’ll do it. As a single woman with no children, working hard year after year, travel’s what I choose to spend my time and money on. And it’s what has helped me become who I am intended to be.

I’m not sure if joi de vivre is what drives me to travel or if travel gives me my joi de vivre, but I know I’m happiest traveling through life. I have an exuberant enjoyment of life!

What I know for sure

06 Monday May 2013

Posted by in Observations

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

People frequently talk about how bad the world is/or has gotten; how horrible human beings are. I don’t buy that. Not at all. Reading back through history it seems people always think the world is worse in their time than it was in a previous time. Or they think they don’t want to raise their kids in ‘these times’. Again, I beg to differ.

While I’m not naive to problems and issues in the world, I don’t think people are bad. Nor do I think the world is overall a scary place. If it was there’d be far more horrible things occurring to each of us every day. There’d be far more scary days than non-scary days. And there just aren’t, for most of us. Sometimes I think people are most comfortable operating from a place of fear or a place of can’t. I can’t travel because it’s scary. I can’t go there because I could get hurt. I can’t leave because something might happen. I’m not going to try X because I might not succeed. I think our minds limit or stop many of us from trying new or unfamiliar things. And that includes traveling.

I believe we are all similar around the world, trying to live our lives in a way consistent with what we believe, to live happily, to connect with others, and to love those closest to us. Everywhere in the world I have seen that. I think that’s one of the main reasons I travel. It’s important for me to see how we are all similar no matter where we reside or what we do everyday in life.

 

Passion to the nth degree

11 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by in Observations

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Right up front I want to say that I realize I have a certain level of enthusiasm for things I deem worthy that can be a bit overly. Maybe even annoying to some. I put myself fully in to situations and generally enjoy whatever I’m doing. And when I’m happy I can’t help but show it. So take what I’m about to write with that in mind. But I’m here to tell you that the Ivoclar Vivadent presence in Cologne, Germany at the IDS meeting and the booth at that show and the general experience in the entire city surrounding it all would most likely make the most stoic among us giddy with enthusiasm. The energy here is palpable.

Maybe everyone here with their company feels that the city is palpating with the energy of them. I’m sure the Nobel Biocare team feels pride seeing their company’s logo flying on the flags across the river and the Sirona team likes seeing their logos and advertising around the city. But it’s different for Ivoclar. Our flags fly at hotels and at other buildings around the city. Our logo is plastered on the outside of the huge building our booth is housed. There are signs with our logo pointing people in the direction they need to go: to our functions throughout the city. Our product banners are displayed at building entrances. It goes on and on. While we enjoy excellent success in North America with our products and innovations, it’s different here and there’s nowhere better to see it displayed than at this show.

A visit to the official opening of the booth yesterday proves my point. We entered building #11 where we are housed (There are many, many buildings for this show. Presumably 10 before us and who knows how many after us, so this place is huge!) It’s bustling with the normal activity of booth set-up day at any show. But this day was a culmination of 10 days of booth set-up! Ten days of constructing a booth at least 5x the size of our booth at Chicago Midwinter, our largest North American show. (And I might be underestimating. It could be much larger.)

Approaching the Ivoclar Vivadent booth, there’s definitely a change in atmosphere. The lighting becomes brighter and the colors become bluer due to a new concept at the booth this year. And then there’s the pulsating of the sound system with Dean Martin singing ‘When You’re Smiling’ among other spirited music. There are dancers dressed in white and blue costumes with stark white hair on the stage set up in the middle of the booth. There’s a bar with high tops and chairs all around inviting people to meet and sit awhile. There are two glassed-in rooms set up with audio for group meetings and demonstrations each completely set up with our full product line and interestingly enough, green apples all around, adding the green to our blue and green company theme.

The booth looks great, there’s no doubt about it, but the thing that was even more impressive than our stunning booth? The passion and enthusiasm of everyone helping put it all together. And it’s no wonder: they’ve all been selected to work this meeting as a reward for some thing or another, so they seem happy to be there. But also, everyone was at a kick-off meeting last week where they learned the layout of the place, the products we’ll be focusing on, and had a team building experience. So they know what they’re to do and they’re acting happy to do it. The theme of the meeting for us this year is “I am a part of the future.” The booth evokes that definitely.

Then the official kick-off of the show began and I actually had to wipe away some tears! The music changed to a German song that is popular now and everyone spontaneously started singing along and moving and smiling, clearly a song everyone knows and loves! It felt like an anthem and it turns out it will be. As translated by a colleague, it’s about these days. These special days we’re all a part of to live and enjoy together. We’re all part of a bigger story.

And as it seems, we’re each a part of the future of our company.