we live in this endless dystopia… we’ve been groomed again and again to endure crisis after crisis after crisis and with that; have forgotten the joy of life.
We live in strife
And we never pause to enjoy life
It’s little hidden beauties it’s endless flirtation it’s burning desire.
Το μεδούλι we say.
we let others dictate… our inspiration our connections our determination. Yet after all that, we find courage to live life, fall in love, write beautiful music, build incredible buildings, carve beautiful statues, build incredible grand ships that take us from sea to sea, and discover our limits anew each time becoming better versions of ourselves.
we delve deep into beauty and reap the benefits of true joy.
Each boy and girl each female and male becoming, growing, revealing their most true selves.
It’s no mystery we are all made of stars….
Yet we bicker and fight and cause strife. Spending lifetimes hating each other.
Demeaning each other
what a waste….
To not want to taste life’s bounties.
To not want to share in its boundless beauty.
Our curiosity for self destruction is a unique human trait, but so is survival.
And faith.
No not religious kind, but true faith, in ourselves in each other. No no we’re not the only ones but were unique, no we’re not one of a kind but we have been given infinite possibilities…
It starts with the comments about your habits, your way of doing things, how you talk, and how you move. In the beginning you feel comfortable because your partner, friend, lover cares about you to discuss these habits and ways of doing things with you. You feel noticed, appreciated, seen.
Time passes and you get used to it, and after a while these little comments, become criticisms, and as time progresses even further they become outright mean, hurtful and deliberate verbal punches.
And you justify them. You feel as if it’s love, care, understanding, attention. (above all attention). Cause if he/she didn’t care he/she wouldn’t ignore you. And as Anne Lamott says in her TED talk about her 12 truths about life and writing,
Caring is the other side of control.
But you get used to it, you think this is love, this is caring this is what relationships, friendships, partnerships are supposed to be. Until one day you wake up and you have completely lost yourself in them. They hold the key to every move you make, they have brick by brick stolen your self esteem, your confidence and your ability to believe that you can live with out them. Slowly they have convinced you that you are with out them, useless, weak and afraid, and you believe them. Only they can understand you, and their friendship, love and care is the ultimate and best thing you will ever have.
If you decide to reject their abusive words and actions, you are ungrateful, crazy, you lost your shit, you are imbalanced and certifiably nuts. You are not worthy, you can’t deal, you don’t understand, you’re feelings are irrational, biased and untrue. You will never find anyone like them, only they can deal with your crazy ass, if they left you would be like a lost puppy, you are a selfish, stupid little person.
And that seed of doubt planted right from the beginning; has taken over your whole being. This toxic weed of self doubt, self loathing, self deprecation, is slowly poisoning you. Your kingdom has a new leader and it’s not you. Slowly your foundation has been chipped away and you can’t even stand on your own two feet. But luckily for you, your abuser is there to pick you up, tell you they and only they love you because that’s what real friends, lovers, partners are for.
When the light bulb goes off.
You wake up, one day after having heard it all, and even though you feel wobbly on your feet, you take a step and then another and you rebuild, you begin to listen to your own true voice again, you begin to realize that you’re not a piece of shit, you’re not crazy, you’re not useless without them, you deserve love, affection, care, communication, attention and companionship. And just when they aren’t looking, you jump off the speeding train to no where. You will stumble, you will fall many times, you will feel unsure of the direction you’re taking, but every time you fall, that voice telling you you’re useless without them won’t be there. So you get up and you keep going.
You start to trust your voice again.
From a whisper, it becomes a steady vibrant, beautiful voice. Like any living being, when the abuse stops scars remain, but with love, care, trust and acceptance, your scars are only a reminder of how far you have come.
One invaluable lesson the financial crisis in Greece taught me, is that one can’t take anything for granted.
There are few incredibly wealthy Greeks who remain untouched by the financial crisis. I am not going to talk about them in this blog post.
Countless young Greek professionals like myself, have had to leave their lives, their homes and their families behind for a another and very uncertain life elsewhere. I uprooted my life, (again) and migrated to another country, not only for a better life but essentially to survive. If all goes well and I’m able to build a life here in the U.S, or anywhere else; I hope to move beyond surviving, and to ultimately thrive and succeed.
Going back to Greece to live and work; is not a viable option for us who left.
At least not yet.
I am far luckier than most.
With all the strides, that I have made living in New York the past five years; it has not been without its challenges. I attribute the general malaise of my fellow country men and women, not only to nostalgia or missing our homeland, but to the crude realization of having to prove ourselves somewhere else AGAIN, after having fought very hard to establish a life in a far less conducive and accepting environment.
I built a successful career in my field, and was afforded a relatively stable family and personal life, but most importantly Greece was my home. I LOVED living there. I had in general terms a good life. Despite all its craziness and complete chaos; I love Greece. Yet….most young people, (myself included when I first moved back after my studies), are endlessly discouraged by Greece’s pure lack of any provable organization, shitty public services, corrupt governance, disorganized and badly outdated infrastructure, nepotism, greed … rampant sexism, and most recently a newly emboldened racism and nationalism; the list is endless.
We all have complained, and continue to do so about how badly everything runs, how our corrupt politicians are stifling growth, entrepreneurship, and innovation. Many of the people who left, wanted to make it work in Greece. We wanted to bring our knowledge back to our homeland. I like many of my contemporaries, have had the privilege of being educated in good schools, have had contact with some amazing minds in all the fields I have worked at; (the Arts, Dance, Wellness and beyond), and have had the good fortune to be able to choose where I would like to live, but above all…. I had the ultimate “golden ticket”; an American Passport.
My privilege is not lost on me.
It has afforded much needed headway when coming to the United States to work and live after living in Greece for most of my adult life. Yet…. I am still seen as a bloody foreigner. Despite my many difficulties proving myself again as a yoga teacher, arts administrator and overall capable professional; this little title “American Citizen” protects me from far worse treatment and marginalization that many of my compatriots feel having never lived in the U.S, or any other foreign country for that matter.
When observing the difficulty my friends face when coming to the U.S for the first time, I feel immensely grateful to be able to navigate through “the system” as well as having a better understanding of the intricacies of living, operating and decoding how “the little things” work in the U.S. This is an obscure list of unwritten rules; it’s handed to us upon arrival and, we all have to follow them.
A rude awakening, to a new life.
Whatever life I left behind in Greece; losing the comfort and ease I was used to, was quite daunting at first glance. What I learned upon arrival to the U.S is that nothing of what I knew or was used to is applicable here. If I am going to survive, I must play the local game and all but forget how things worked for me “back home”. I had to go through the same “schooling” when I moved back to Greece at 22, after my studies in the U.S. The American way of life does not apply to Greek chaos… so I was called to re-calibrate how I worked “the system”, in order to survive and ultimately thrive.
This I find is the biggest gift, no matter how hard of a transition it has been. I am now fortified with the tools to be able to negotiate a productive way of life both here and in Greece. The local rules and “how things are done” are no longer a mystery, because doing things by the book in New York is only the first step to a long education about making it here, or anywhere else.
I have had a recent lull to my writing, in stark contrast to the frenzy of past months. My spring feverish ideas and thoughts left freely from my brain onto the page. I truly enjoyed my every day post commitment I set out to complete back in March (birthday challenge) . Truly nothing has kept me more on my toes, than my yoga/ exercise practice and my writing.
As of late I’ve had what many would call a freeze of my creative flow. I don’t know if this is a set back or a regroup, but for what its worth, I would not be a particularly good blogger, if I didn’t share this stagnancy with my small yet powerful and encouraging audience (share my posts with your friends!).
I’m feeling a little stuck.
There are a plethora of things I want to share my thoughts on, but in this growing cacophony of opinions and thoughts my mind is becoming overwhelmed with the opinions of everybody else, to really be able to be a valid voice in the mix. The reminder that depression, and suicide is so openly discussed, took me back to my days of battling depression, and how I was able through very lucky circumstances and good people to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, pull myself out of dark cavernous thoughts, and figure shit out.
I battle with self doubt, body image issues, self esteem issues, and the list goes on. Yet here I am writing about it, even though I’m still stuck. I often promise I will share as much of myself as possible it’s the only way to write.
There is definitely a chaotic order to the way I convey my thoughts on this blog, and I appreciate those who’ve followed and continue to follow my musings, poetry, analysis and reflections.
For now I will leave you with a small gratitude list. When you get stuck, make one too, it helps.
I’m grateful for my health. Two dear friends who I deeply care for are battling cancer. They are warriors, who absolutely give me courage to be even better and more resilient.
I’m extremely grateful for my home here in New York. It’s a sanctuary and a quiet space, in this overwhelming city. Every night I sit on my balcony; on these warm summer nights, and smile at how blessed I am to be here. I miss Greece and my home there every waking moment, but having the opportunity to travel and live here isn’t available to many of my fellow country men and women. Thousands of refugees are still in limbo on many Greek islands bordering Turkey. Children and their families are being torn apart as we speak at US borders. As we all battle internal crisis, so much turmoil is occurring on a daily basis. That forces me to think twice before I forget where I’ve come from.
I’m grateful for rekindled and real friendships, from the embers of dead affairs. And I’m grateful I recently escaped a toxic affair before it created further damage.
I’m grateful for Art. As I’ve mentioned in past posts and I’ll say it again, Art is the only thing that can and has created meaningful change. Art touches and effects everyone in small and big ways and is and will continue to be a huge vehicle for truth, change, and progress.
I’m still stuck with my writing, but I’m grateful I can share that too. When overwhelmed with life’s rocky path, be grateful for what you have to overcome it.
I grow old ever learning many things. — Solon of Athens.
For as long as I can remember I’ve fought against a perpetual ideal, the constant striving and constant self critical cycle of wanting to be the best at something ( or die trying??) and missing out on what my failures are teaching me in order to become better.
Well Yes “No one is perfect.”
We are taught at a very young age to strive for betterment, perfection, ideal, the “best” of something and at something. We fight for grades, we pull all nighters to get a degree, we deprive ourselves of comfort, sleep, and sanity to reach a higher goal and achievement. And when our flaws are pointed out to us or we fail at something we tried, so hard for, we repeat ourselves its ok… “Well… no one is perfect”. And often we give up.
Yet, perfection or the attaining of it in its original form is a flawed premise. It defeats the purpose of a teachable moment, its gives us an excuse to stay focused on an unattainable unreachable ideal rather than the beauty of constantly improving and learning from our own imperfection. We have to keep saying : it’s ok I suck at this and I’m not good enough right now, but I won’t give up”. We give in to this ideal in our minds, yet perfection isn’t what we should be aiming for in the first place.
Of course no one is perfect. There is no such thing.
Perfection isn’t the point. It’s the mastery, improving, evolving and learning from our mistakes. Perfection is a fallacy, it’s a mirage. And those who battle with perfection, reaching it, attaining it or embodying it, are losing on the beauty and necessity of imperfection.
One of my favorite Ashtanga Yoga teachers is in my eyes absolutely perfect. He is my ideal practitioner and teacher. He is kind, loving, supportive, funny and a really cool dude, as well as probably the most accomplished Ashtanga Yoga teachers worldwide. I credit a lot of my teaching ethics to him ( I won’t say his name cause that’s not the point). Yet one day, during a workshop I was attending, this seemingly perfect teacher with all the answers, said that he still struggles with a pose I find absolutely excruciatingly difficult, even though it’s not considered that challenging.
And I felt a wave of irony and laughter filling my lungs.
What??? This guy is not perfect? He has flaws, he struggles with poses, but he’s like a god! And all of a sudden, the way I saw my own practice and of course my whole relationship with yoga changed. I no longer aspired to be the best most perfect practitioner of all time, (which wasn’t a realistic goal to begin with) but to be the most empathetic, supportive, driven, and disciplined I could be with all my physical flaws and imperfections.
Let’s be honest; when someone tells you “well you’re not perfect… but….” run far away. Because perfection is stagnancy and a bad excuse for not trying harder, not evolving and improving on what you already have. Perfection as a measure of character is also unrealistic and this pervasive thought that if you’re not perfect you aren’t good enough; isn’t helpful for betterment.
Challenging our boundaries, finding ways to advance our craft, our selves, our way of thinking means fully accepting that we’re all works in progress, constantly improving and learning.
We will never reach perfection and that is just perfect.
I am posting with a small delay as I was in transit between Paris and London and I wanted to take the time to write about this last day of my 27 day challenge, and what it meant to take this much needed journey.
London Bridge
Street Art in the London Bridge neighborhood of London
This year I celebrate my 40th birthday. It’s a milestone of sorts, as I’m sure it is for all who cross that threshold. I never knew what to expect of this day, whether I would have a family by now, whether I would be living in a big house or a small cottage in a village somewhere, or what I would be doing for a living. I remember when I was 18 or 19 calculating the year I would turn 40, and it was way beyond my comprehension at the time; but now here we are. For better or worse I’ve arrived… and new challenges and paths are beckoning to be explored.
Street Art in the Les Halles neighborhood of Paris
I was speaking to my mother, who reminded me of a memory she had of me when she turned 40. We were in northern Athens, at our then home, in what you would call an “affluent” neighborhood now; but back then, it was in an area no one wanted to live at. I was riding my pink and white bicycle with its training wheels; it was 1982 or ’83 and my mum had just turned 40 that December. I clearly can picture her memory; my mother was slender, as always, with a beautiful smile and a determined gaze, short curly light brown hair and big square glasses. My father good looking and in his late 30’s, a hit of seventies sideburns still donned his face and he wore aviator glasses. A year later we would take our first trip to Paris as a family.
The magic of Paris through my 6 year old eyes, will never match any other trip I’ve taken since. I was in awe. We would visit many times after that, but that first trip was like new world had been revealed. I had never seen such beauty in my life. Glimpses of the Louvre museum before the pyramids were built, the clock of the Muse d’Orsay from up close and the smell of the Parisian air, as we walked through Montmartre and the “dangerous” artistic neighborhoods of the 18th Arrondisment.
I remember still the taste of rich chocolate and french food at a small restaurant in Place Dauphine, now probably long gone. I visit that same little park every time I go to Paris. I sit on a bench; eat a pain au chocolat, and dream of my six year old self walking up the stairs of this larger than life Brasserie with sumptuous deserts lining each step.
Today I celebrate my 40th year, in one of the most poetic, beautiful places in the world, with some of my most treasured memories, and most treasured friends. Cheers, santé, Γεια μας. Onward to this next chapter.
Where, do you remember your most fond childhood memory, and where would you travel to next?
The thing about flight is that it signifies freedom and direction. It’s full of possibility and promise. Traveling, seeing the world, being connected, being reunited, is a gift that gives us many returns. Whether we are flying away from something or towards something, is a fine line.
Escape or Destination?
Exploration towards, or walking away from another. The need for travel is about the realm of possibility and change. It’s a way to escape and embrace. A way to connect to a place and disconnect from a place. A dear friend asked me when I was leaving Greece five years ago, whether I was escaping something or going towards something.
At that time in my mind I was very clear; I’m going towards my future, a better life, a dream explored. Now after five years; I am not as sure as I was then. This questioning we all have of why we choose to travel and leave the familiar behind is a constant in my thoughts. But for now I’m caught in flight, and enjoying the ride.
What do you love about travel? And where does your heart lead you?
When you’re determined to get somewhere even a snow storm won’t get in your way. Today, yet another snow storm covers New York in white. The streets of Soho where I took this picture were eerily quiet, as I have seldom seen them. Shops were closed for the day and a few brave souls were out and about ( mostly tourists!) Yet this image of a man on his bicycle, undeterred by the snow or the slippery streets; steady and determined on his path; reminded me of how much we will all go through to get what we want, to get to where we want to go, and to achieve our highest potential.
Sacrifice is inevitable and often necessary and even though we will lose friends, comfort, and sometimes our sanity; if we are sure of our goals then it’s all worth it.
I sat with a friend who’s a gifted photographer for a quick impromptu coffee. We weren’t supposed to meet and I had not seen him in months. I said this to him, because like him I lose my steam and my determination when faced with self doubt. I reminded him as I do myself over and over again ( yes I talk to myself all the time ); keep focused on the destination, and keep steady on the journey despite the mishaps and the trials along the way.
Our goals are only as far as we are willing to go to fulfill them. On this first day of spring and the beginning of Aries season… keep going and even if you fall, you will get there.
What is standing in the way of your goals and your path to them?
I’m an American girl with a Greek Soul
Eleana Kouneli 