Serendipity - Fortunate Happenstance

                                        

I am a left brain type of a person, quite rational, loving logic, type A. Enough for confessions or excuses for what is to follow. I just want to gain credibility as I am going to write about things that are difficult to explain logically, a bit woo woo. Events that are not causally related but are connected meaningfully are called Synchronicity. Synchronicity seems to be more mystical than serendipity.

Having time to observe events of my life and paying attention to links between some of them, I notice, sometimes almost miraculous connection among events. Serendipity happens. Even its stronger form Synchronicity happens.

A recent very happy event brought this subject and I feel that I want to tell the story.

Some years ago, I think it has been 6 or 7 years ago, I studied coaching and as a part of the course I was supposed to be a client of 12 coaching sessions. One of the options was to be coached by a fellow student. I took this option and found a person I liked the profile of and so I met Victoria. Victoria is a Brazilian girl who lived in Germany. I lived at that time in Gdansk and we both had some problems we wanted to solve with a help of a coach. Victoria was my coach and the sessions with her brought a lot of clarity on what I wanted and needed to be doing next to solve my problems. After a while I became Victoria’s coach and so our friendship was formed. Life went on; we graduated from our coaching academy, got our diplomas and moved on. Victoria to Shanghai of all places a Brazilian girl may want to live in and I back home to Sydney, as if home for a Pole was naturally in Australia.

In Shanghai Victoria met a man. She was looking for coaching assignments and experience. She met her career goals and the man turned out to be the One. This is a beautiful story with a happy end. What I find unusual is that when I first contacted Victoria, she lived in Frankfurt, I lived in Gdansk. We worked together but did not expect to ever meet. It was a cyber space part episode of life. Now, some years later I am invited to her wedding in Sydney where we both live. The world is definitely shrinking. I consider that at least a serendipity.

Where are my books now?

My obsession with books continued for many years and I accumulated a lot of them. Actually, I have not counted them and maybe there are not that many but after my last move from Gdansk to Sydney I was not able to unpack all of them. I could not find space on available shelves. My old bookcases disappeared in my travels; they did not seem to be good enough to travel the world with them. I saw them being crashed. This happens sometimes to our treasures. They stop to be treasures.

 I used any possible space to store my books - wardrobe, build in shelves in one of the rooms and unused fire place. Strange places for books? Yes, but in desperation this seemed to be good enough. I could at least see them. Some of the books stayed in boxes waiting for a bookcases or bookshelves to arrive one day. As it was difficult to organize quickly, I covered the boxes with a cloth and placed some ornaments on top of the covered pile. I decided that it looked good enough and forgot about it. Nobody commented looking at the boxes pretending to be a corner table. I myself forgot about them. And so time passed. Now and then I had some ideas how to solve the problem but they seemed to be difficult to put into practice. Those days it is very difficult if not impossible to find bookcases in furniture shops. There are display units with spacing between shelves not suitable for books. I decided that I will need to have something made to order and explored this possibility for some time. I either did not like quality of potential bookshelves or prices quoted. And time was passing.

The situation would have lasted for a long time yet if it was not for one helpful friend who rightly thought that I postponed the issue for much too long. I talked to her about my bookshelves projects too many times not making any progress. She was clearly fed up with hearing the story too many times and I realized that eventually I need to make a move or stop talking about it. Suddenly I had a brain wave. Why not buy an old bookcase. Antiques are at the moment completely out of fashion and this makes their prices really affordable. I did some internet searches and found something that looked acceptable. Old definition classifies an item over 100 years old as an antique. According to this definition selected by me bookcases are antique, beginning of the XXth century. Times moved on. It took one visit to an antique center in Sydney and my new-old bookcases were on their way to solve my problem. There were piles of books everywhere at my place for few days. I did a lot of dusting, polishing and vacuuming but I was happy amidst this horrible mess. I was re-discovering my old books, many of them I did not remember at all. Out of sight, out of mind.

Sorting the books I reminisced on periods in my life. There were times when I focused on positive thinking, management and leadership, spirituality, coaching, philosophy, psychology, antique and art. Not many novels amongst it all. Some from my younger years. Hmm… Does that make me a very boring Jack? Luckily, I found quite a few humorous books which I loved to read in my twenties. I hope that they had some positive influence on my psyche. I typically read more than one book at a time so I added a newly found fun book to the currently read ones. It balances my reading very nicely.

Now, most of my books are again on shelves and accessible and I have the feeling of succeeding with
one of my long postponed project. Ufff...

  There they are!


                                                                                           

Books well traveled

I love books. I love many things about them. Their content teaches and amuses or irritates and forces to assess new points of view. It influences me often as written word has authority for me. Written – then it must be true or at least worth considering. I simplify my approach, of course. I am not naïve or gullible as all that. However, printed word has subconsciously stronger influence on me than spoken words.

                             

I also like nicely published books. Australian book – ONE; living as one and loving it by Victoria Alexander is an example of books I consider beautifully published. Another one on top of my list is Polish edition of Master and Margarita of Mikhail Bulgakov. I like to touch them, scan their beautiful pages, look at the illustrations. I think that I read almost all works of Bronte sisters because of being lucky to have a very nice edition of their books.

I also like smell of some books, even old musty ones. When I was very young and wondered who I want to be when I grow up I did not want to be a firewoman, this was suitable for boys. I wanted to work in a book shop which would also sell cosmetics. Hmm… I wonder about myself, at least my thinking in young years.

So, now that I have confessed my love for books, it makes it clear that it is very hurtful for me to part with them. But, I have moved around the world quite a bit. The first move was from a small Polish town Włocławek to Warsaw. This was an easy move. I did not have many possessions at eighteen. My father organized nice wooden crates in which I packed my books very carefully. And off I went to be a student in a big city.

After some years of living in Warsaw, I accumulated more books and was a proud owner of a great wall unit which easily housed my books plus other less important things. There was a room for expansion. And then the time came to move again. This time the move was serious, out of Poland. My father organised more wooden crates and I packed my books again. In those days nice carton boxes that removal people give you did not exist. Books packed in wooden crates are heavy. I heard loud complaints from people carrying them from the forth floor without lift to the container lorry parked downstairs– Please, not more books! I felt sorry for the removal men and guilty.


                                          

The books landed up in a storage space somewhere in Vienna while I lived bookless in Paris for one year. Then we all got reunited in Düsseldorf. It was great! My new Polish bookcases were placed in a special room, all my books were comfortable and there was room for expansion.

I gave my books a rest for two years and then we were on our way again. This time the journey was very long, we were going to Sydney. Books and all.

It was a time of stability for books and me for quite some time. Again, there was a special room for my bookcases and their content in my first houses in Sydney. We were all stable and happy. But the next move required changes; there was not enough place for all my books in the new house. I had to give away many of them to various libraries and charities. This was painful. My friend, who volunteers in St Vincent de Paul shop, tells me that many donated books are thrown away. I am glad I did not know it then.

This was not the end of travels of my books. I decided to go and live in Poland again. My precious bookcases went to charities together with many of the books. The most precious of the books went with me of course. We landed up in Gdansk this time. It was stability time again.  I had place for books and time to read. I bought more books to add to my so brutally culled collection. However, nothing lasts forever. Some years later it was time to come back home – Sydney. And this is where after our travels, I and my books are now.

My fascination with books – beginnings

Books, or rather insufficient space for my books, became a problem. Mainly because getting a new bookcase has been on my project list for almost three years. I was not moving forward. This has been annoying, disappointing and even affecting my self-esteem as it was a promise given to myself that I have not kept for such a long time. Place for my still unpacked books was on my daily agendas for too long. This was so important because I have a very close and intimate relationship with my books. 

My family home had a build-in bookcase covering the whole wall. It was a really big bookcase, dominating the room. My mother was the force behind decorating the place and esthetics was very important to her. I wonder if she ever had enough time to read the books she arranged so nicely, tastefully coordinating their colours. She was a working woman and it meant her work took a lot of time and energy.  Watching television was an easier option to reading.

Books in my mother's collection, so proudly displayed sent a message to me that they are important element of life. The bookcase housed a comprehensive collection. The books were beautifully published, mainly as series of classics, hence colour coordination worked well even preserving connection of subjects. I may seem a little sarcastic about my mother’s esthetic needs, but I some could say that I have inherited it myself. Mind you, it is not likely I’ll colour coordinate books, especially if they are from vastly different subjects.

Back to the bookcase.  There was a blue shelf with all works of one of the Polish poets Slowacki. There was also maroon and gold stripes shelve of all works of another Polish poet. The poetry books looked beautiful on the shelves but I was not that much interested in their content.  Maybe I was too young? Maybe there were really boring? The shelves of a lesser quality of publishing drew more of my attention. The brick colour shelf was my friend for a long time. It was the left top corner of the bookcase and I needed a chair to climb for closer inspections and taking books for reading. The shelve housed another Polish classic – Sienkiewicz. Unpronounceable name and he is little known to the world even though he was a Nobel prize winner in 1905 “because of his outstanding merits as an epic writer”. His novel Quo Vadis about martyrdom of first Christians in Rome was adapted into a Hollywood film with Peter Ustinov and Deborah Kerr. It was a big spectacular production still shown on Australian television sometimes.

Monument of Sienkiewicz in Villa Borghese in Rome

Sienkiewicz was very prolific writer and his novels spanned from historical epics to short stories. One of his less famous novels The Polaniecki Family may have been responsible for my romantic education. In my very young years some of the messages from the book most likely got installed in my subconscious. I wish I read more practical stories at the time of being easily influenced.

There were mainly Polish books that occupied the shelves of the bookcase but at some stage Galsworthy, English contemporary of Sienkiewicz, appeared as well. He also became one of my favourites. Looks that I liked longer forms of literature and I read many sagas. Canadian Mezo de la Roche – Jalna, Buddenbrooks, Forsyte Saga and some Polish ones. It is only now I have fully realized this preference of mine.

This post seems to be self-indulging, but why not. Quite appropriate subject for a person waiting for delivery of new bookcases! More on me and books later. 

How to live Prime Minister ???

Some years ago my favourite politician Donald Tusk intended to show interest and compassion towards people affected by adverse weather that ruined some crops. It worked very well up to the point  when he met a capsicum grower. He was an articulate and outspoken man. His complaints and demands towards the government were as substantial as ill justified. He spoke emphatically and at length for more than 10 minutes complaining at the weather and the government. I was in Poland at the time and watched the program live, after a while I became impatient with repetitions and silly arguments but one statement got my full interest and attention. The man who was worried about losses in his capsicum plantation asked Donald Tusk : and how to live Prime Minister???

For some reason the question became well known in Poland and it is now proverbial with me.

In the recent times I experienced many setbacks, health problems, complications, bad news, loss of friends and generally massive lack of luck. It has been perhaps the most difficult time I have experienced. I believe that I am over the worst and now on the mend physically and emotionally. Many things redefined themselves in the hard times; I was no more sure about my values or meaning of life.  During those times the question of the capsicum grower was coming frequently to my mind: How to live Prime Minister??? In asking the question I was equally pathetic as the outspoken capsicum man. I was not asking any Prime Minister for answers but perhaps even I was addressing a superpower. Not sure, but I was sort of desperate and I literally feverish.  This is my excuse.

                                                           

On reflection, I came to think that it is really a good question, a coaching question. There are times when things change so much in our lives or we get such a jerk that we need to look and reevaluate few things. I am a great believer in importance of knowing and understanding our personal strengths, purpose or meaning, believes and values. This is how I approach career transition issues when I coach. Now it is time for me to go to my personal drawing board and look again at what really is important to me. I have not done it in a structured way yet, but I already know that friendship, learning and contribution will be on my short list. I am glad to realize that the most important has not changed in my personal earthquake.

I am recommending to anyone the capsicum question: How to live Prime Minister? Only let’s seek the Prime Minister and the answers within us. 

Water Diviner - fairy tale with lessons

I was not planning to see the film. I thought that I had seen enough of war films being brought up on Holocaust based films and literature. I understand that there have been tragedies that nations can not just forget even if many years have passed since the events. War stories have been regurgitated as, of course, there is a lot to process and hopefully learn from. I understand that Gallipoli has been such an event for Australia and I respect it. That does not mean that I wanted to lower my, in recent times, fragile mood. I was not in the market for a depressing story. In fact I was in a need of something uplifting.

I am very glad that a friend gave me a gentle push and I decided to give the film a go. It was mainly for the company of my friend, though, I decided to see the film after all. And here came a big, nice surprise. I really enjoyed the film. In comparison to the holocaust inspired films this was really a light weight event. Fun, sweet, romantic, beautiful scenery took over the deadly serious subjects of war. I loved a lot of this hardly believable story. I needed a fairy tale and I got it. When I think of how the hero of the film, Connor, found locations of his long lost sons, how he managed to get support for his mission from unlikely multinational sources, water divining mysteries, by contrast, seem to be most likely and scientific.  

The film is telling a war story and teaches about its atrocities, about forgiveness, about duality of truth but not always in a solemn way. Some of the “holly” subjects are even slandered and this does not hurt their holiness. Even the love story is highly improbable but so sweet and pleasant to watch that one forgives lack of psychological probability. I did anyhow.

"Everything is in the coffee" - she says as she helps the fate a bit but cheeting

What I find interesting is that Russell Crowe, the film star and the director is to me a quintessential “simple Aussie boy” even if born in New Zealand – a larrikin, tough, no nonsense person who seriously supports South Sydney Rabbitohs – a rugby league team. There is more sensitivity, romanticism and softness to the Aussie boys that I had understood. 

Conor and his cheeky, little  helper 

I reflected on Polish ways of making war inspired films. Sure, there have been comedies related to the war subjects but Water Diviner style is somewhat out of Polish possibilities to make a war film in a similar way. At least, I perceive it that way. I think I leave my national comparisons without further reflections. It could lead to a total confusion of my readers and me.

Bottom line – I recommend the film.

Memories of Christmas

Christmas went by in a way that it was not too exuberant for me. Nice and homely though.  There were no Polish excesses of 12 dishes on my Christmas Eve table this year but my Aussie favourites – oysters, prawns and a blue swimmer crab. Even if I do not follow the lessons of my original catholic upbringing, I still follow the tradition of fasting on Christmas Eve. Fasting in the sense that no meat should be present on the table this special day. In this case, I am more catholic than the Pope. The Christmas Eve fast has been actually abolished some time ago by Vatican. But at my family home there was never any meat this evennig and for some reason it is important to me to keep the tradition.

Even if it was a non event Christmas, I got two presents that I enjoy very much and that have left a mark of Christmas 2014. I am a tea drinker and all accessories related to tea are very important to me. I have many tea pots and special tea cups but I still stop at tea shops and examine any possibilities to add to my collection. My friend recognising the weakness of mine, gave me for Christmas a lovely tea pot and matching mugs. I am enjoying my tea in the new mug while I am writing this post.

Another special gift from another dear friend was a book by John Baxter – The Most Beautiful Walk in the World. John Baxter is an Australian writer who lives in Paris. As it turns out we, John Baxter and I, have at least one thing in common. Love for Paris is the thing. For many years I have been fascinated by France and French and especially Paris. A promise of three years of life in Paris many years ago, made me leave my home country. It turned out to be only eleven moths and the Paris assignment continued, to my chagrin, in Dusseldorf but I had great time in this wonderful city even if at that time I was home sick crazy.

The book about Paris woke up my love and fascination with Paris. It also reminded me of flaneur-ing. I heard first the word flaneur from another friend of mine, who likes the word so much that he is going to camino flaneur-ing in Spain. This is taking the word flaneur to its extreme. So many kilometres of flaneur-ing! I think that this is a great plan, Hans, and I envy you.

So what does it mean to flaneur? It is to wonder the streets without an intent to get somewhere but just to observe what’s around. Diane Johnson, in her book Le Divorce, defines it as "mess[ing] around with no guilty sense of being unoccupied." So maybe Hans will  not  exactly flaneur in Spain as his intention is to get to Santiago de Compostela is clear.

Rain should not stop a real flaneur

After reading the book and under its influence, I took into flaneur-ing in Mosman. My observations include inspecting the neighbouring properties. Checking the architecture, gardens, size of the houses, local pets.... I am wondering if being a flaneur in Mosman does not carry a bit of danger of being misunderstood for a Peepping Tom. Paris is definitely the ideal place to flaneur, but for now Sydney suburbs will have to do for me.

Curiosity and need for detail in observations are important to a flaneur

Flaneur-ing in Mosman made me notice that gardens of the properties are shrinking and the houses expend their living space. This is not a happy observation. Green spaces are shrinking. Mosman Council pay attention!