I'm lucky in love. This year, I'm learning to love more in many ways. It is so easy to see a world where one is all alone, no one cares, and slights are deliberate. Today, I feel the love. I want to recognize it, because there is no value unless it's shared.
Last week, I was at a conference 3500 miles from my flat and a challenge arose involving regie (fearsome dragon-like creature that controls real estate in Geneva), neighbor, dogsitter, and two friends, including one who had just been in an accident and was at hospital. To make a long story short, Desmond was lonely, and the dog sitter had been robbed, and my neighbor came to the rescue, simultaneously offering to care for my dog and to call the police if I didn't hand the keys over. We've subsequently (phone calls/texts/emails/apologies from dogsitter/large bunches of flowers) worked things out, and Desmond has a new fan.
A kind friend whom I have not seen for months due to competing schedules stepped in to the breach, at the expense of work time at her finance job for a fancy company. Not only did her sweet demeanor diffuse the neighbor's harangue, but she kept sending reports back to overanxious me. My hero.
When confronted with visa issues, my boss and friend trusted me to take her place at a conference, presenting on behalf of our organization. It was a conference of skilled American Red Cross communicators. I lurk on their closed Facebook group and am a steady admirer of their work and friendship. They welcomed me back warmly, and I made some new friends, in addition to strengthening bonds with long-standing friends and colleagues.
One, an experienced pal of ex-pats, offered me her keys to get out for a quick supply run. Another shanghaied me as cheap labor blowing up air guitars... and made me feel as though I were still her neighbor at headquarters. Still others teased me, hugged me, photographed me and taught me. Experienced newspeople critiqued my live interviewing skills, offering tips, tricks and personalized recommendations. I learned to shoot and edit a quick iPhone story. A new friend and colleague from our sister organization co-led our session with field examples and a deep fund of knowledge. Participants in our workshops asked wonderful, engaging questions and offered constructive feedback on how we can serve their needs better.
For some, conference evenings can be lonely affairs. For me, the evenings were joyous continuations of the day. Where else could my first ever shuffleboard tournament be narrated by experienced newsmen, while I was ably partnered by someone threatening to make me wake up at 6am to intern for him as penance for the late night? Where could I be lifted up by the exuberant karaoke stylings of friends from around the country? Where could I indulge in one of my favorite pastimes: long, winding one-on-one conversations with friends whose confidences draw me closer? Where could I order people (unsuccessfully) to stop making me laugh because laughing exacerbates my chest cold? Where could I celebrate - at the home of our founder - the birth of the Red Cross Movement in the United States?
Even here in Geneva, I was welcomed back warmly by coworkers, inveigled into co-coaching a softball team and given free mangos by my lovely fruit and veg vendor at the market. Over the past week, I've received two separate requests to be a travel companion (long weekend in Cyprus and motorcycle tour of the Swiss lakes). There are few greater compliments than being invited to share travel.
This year, I started a happiness diary. Every night, I write down three things for which I give thanks. More and more, the entries are about friends. People in your life matter before jobs, little logistical problems, and objects. Whether it is losing someone you love or seeing someone else's problems that put yours in perspective or even reading articles on how to be happier, I am realising that loving others and showing them is the real road to fulfillment. But we so seldom validate this.
I'm lucky in love from strangers, friends, colleagues, family and closer friends. More importantly, I love you. There. I said it. You know who you are. If you're reading this, it's highly likely that I love you. Starting this year, I will do a better job - probably gradually - of telling you that I care. Help me to do this. Critique me; encourage me; tease me; make me laugh. But help me tell you that you are loved in this big, crazy, curious world.
Last week, I was at a conference 3500 miles from my flat and a challenge arose involving regie (fearsome dragon-like creature that controls real estate in Geneva), neighbor, dogsitter, and two friends, including one who had just been in an accident and was at hospital. To make a long story short, Desmond was lonely, and the dog sitter had been robbed, and my neighbor came to the rescue, simultaneously offering to care for my dog and to call the police if I didn't hand the keys over. We've subsequently (phone calls/texts/emails/apologies from dogsitter/large bunches of flowers) worked things out, and Desmond has a new fan.
A kind friend whom I have not seen for months due to competing schedules stepped in to the breach, at the expense of work time at her finance job for a fancy company. Not only did her sweet demeanor diffuse the neighbor's harangue, but she kept sending reports back to overanxious me. My hero.
When confronted with visa issues, my boss and friend trusted me to take her place at a conference, presenting on behalf of our organization. It was a conference of skilled American Red Cross communicators. I lurk on their closed Facebook group and am a steady admirer of their work and friendship. They welcomed me back warmly, and I made some new friends, in addition to strengthening bonds with long-standing friends and colleagues.
One, an experienced pal of ex-pats, offered me her keys to get out for a quick supply run. Another shanghaied me as cheap labor blowing up air guitars... and made me feel as though I were still her neighbor at headquarters. Still others teased me, hugged me, photographed me and taught me. Experienced newspeople critiqued my live interviewing skills, offering tips, tricks and personalized recommendations. I learned to shoot and edit a quick iPhone story. A new friend and colleague from our sister organization co-led our session with field examples and a deep fund of knowledge. Participants in our workshops asked wonderful, engaging questions and offered constructive feedback on how we can serve their needs better.
For some, conference evenings can be lonely affairs. For me, the evenings were joyous continuations of the day. Where else could my first ever shuffleboard tournament be narrated by experienced newsmen, while I was ably partnered by someone threatening to make me wake up at 6am to intern for him as penance for the late night? Where could I be lifted up by the exuberant karaoke stylings of friends from around the country? Where could I indulge in one of my favorite pastimes: long, winding one-on-one conversations with friends whose confidences draw me closer? Where could I order people (unsuccessfully) to stop making me laugh because laughing exacerbates my chest cold? Where could I celebrate - at the home of our founder - the birth of the Red Cross Movement in the United States?
Even here in Geneva, I was welcomed back warmly by coworkers, inveigled into co-coaching a softball team and given free mangos by my lovely fruit and veg vendor at the market. Over the past week, I've received two separate requests to be a travel companion (long weekend in Cyprus and motorcycle tour of the Swiss lakes). There are few greater compliments than being invited to share travel.
This year, I started a happiness diary. Every night, I write down three things for which I give thanks. More and more, the entries are about friends. People in your life matter before jobs, little logistical problems, and objects. Whether it is losing someone you love or seeing someone else's problems that put yours in perspective or even reading articles on how to be happier, I am realising that loving others and showing them is the real road to fulfillment. But we so seldom validate this.
I'm lucky in love from strangers, friends, colleagues, family and closer friends. More importantly, I love you. There. I said it. You know who you are. If you're reading this, it's highly likely that I love you. Starting this year, I will do a better job - probably gradually - of telling you that I care. Help me to do this. Critique me; encourage me; tease me; make me laugh. But help me tell you that you are loved in this big, crazy, curious world.
1 comment:
Glad I found your blog, Catherine, and I'm also glad I'm one of the new friends you made at the communicators conference. Proud to have you as a professional colleague.
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