It was a question that plagued me constantly in this early days of our relationship, and I could come up with no answer that made sense. I worried that Jas would wake up one morning and realise that there was nothing special about me and move on to a more charismatic guy. Feeling so insecure, I stopped short of telling her how I felt about her. There were times I'd wanted to, but the moments would pass before I could summon the courage.
Posted by stash at 11:32 AM
Friday, May 29, 2009
What is your deepest fear?
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Posted by stash at 1:24 PM
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A Novel Idea
On the train to work this morning, I saw a lady reading a book called "The Art of Happiness at Work". I was amused but mostly cynical as I mentally sneered at the idea that a book could solve job dissatisfaction.
Unless of course it comes packaged with a free weapon to cull your bosses with.
Posted by stash at 12:07 AM
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Unconditional
I get into the cab, and tell the elderly driver where I want to go. A little boy, about 7, is in the front passenger seat - without his seatbelt on - leaning forward with his hands perched on the dashboard. He does not turn around; he does not acknowledge my presence.
They are speaking in Mandarin, and are talking about the Chinese zodiac. The boy asks if there is a cat in the zodiac, and the man says no, the playfully sugests that he could go be a cat. The boy snaps at the man, telling him to "go and die". In the backseat, I raise an eyebrow. The man simply chuckles and very mildly, says, "You dare to scold me? I'll beat you!" "If you hit me, I'll hit you back. If you hit me a hundred times, I'll hit you back a hundred times," comes the childish retort. By this time, I am slack-jawed and utterly incredulous, and I don't know if it is at the audacity of this little bugger, or the admirable patience of the old man.
We are approaching a red light, and with a weathered hand he points to MacRitchie Reservoir, "See? That's where we get our water from. Stand up so you can see it." Driving further down, he gestures toward the dense foliage and the little trails that surface by the side of the road. In the same gentle tone, he tells the boy he'll take him there one day if he'd like.
Finally we reached my destination, and I thank the cabbie as he hands me my change. The boy turns to look at me, and I step out hoping that he'll learn to appreciate his grandfather before it's too late.