Was I a communist?

I have just listened to Polish radio having my Aussie breakfast. It is a very turbulent and sad time in Poland. People reminisce and worry. The people I have in mind are intellectual and/or moral role models for me. I have kept those people in high regard. Now with political changes they feel that the country is going in a tragically wrong direction. The subjects of the discussions are generally depressing and I should not really poison myself with that type of news. But I can not stop it in spite of numerous promises I give myself. In the last couple of days the main news subject is Lech Walesa. So called historians are pushing him off the pedestal, the place he deserves in eyes of many. Mine as well. Not so much a pedestal maybe as a luminous place in the country history and gratitude of all Polish people. This is really not my subject of writing today, but the worry about Walesa, his health, pride, safety and wellbeing makes me think about him excessively right now.

                               

Listening to various discussions about experience in communistic times brings back memories. They are happy, actually, memories. Not that the times were particularly joyful but my youth was free of worries. It was very difficult to get many everyday items and food. Not that I was ever hungry and I have not seen really hungry people then, but it was difficult to buy things. There were queues in every shop for anything. One bought things when they were available not when one needed them. And we queued for everything. I loved queues in bookshops. One could have a really good conversation sometimes and plenty of time to expand on any subject while waiting to get to the counter. There were the times when I did not do comfort eating and I felt I really did not need or particularly liked food. At the same time due to my parents rather privileged situation and my father’s initiative there were the times I ate best beef filets, partridges, quails, crayfish and absolutely organic vegetables. And I even did not understand that it was anything special about it. It must be a bit confusing for people who did not live in Poland in the communistic times or it may even come across as confabulation.

I remember one of my first visits to some very civilized Scandinavian family in Sydney. In fact it was my only visit at their home as I misbehaved very badly. I understand that they did not want to have much to do with a rude communist, I appeared to be. It started with introducing me to civilization and sympathizing with horrible things I must have experienced. I tried to correct some of their impressions, but with prolonged sympathetic treatment my pride and frustration woke up. At the same time my English could not cope with the challenge of the moment. I was missing the right words. Responding to descriptions of horrific communistic times and my  miserable life in Poland, I used the only argument that came to mind. It was - BS. I used it more than once as I was really angry. Now, I blush a bit remembering the time and inappropriateness of my defense. It was silly on many levels. One of many funny mistakes and inabilities of youth combined with Polish temper...

There was a time I was seen as a communist and this was rather dangerous to my happiness and could have finish in heartbreak.  When I was introduced to my future in-laws, they focused on my Polish background not knowing much about me. Even if they really knew me, I was still a sort of an oddball, at least in a conservative Swedish society. My future husband met with greeting of his father: I fought communists all my life and you are bringing one to MY home!!!  It was all happening behind the scenes and I was not aware of how controversial my visit at this civilized home was. The redeeming factors were my small feet (I still wonder why it was important) and correct behaviour combined with good skills of eating crayfish on a festive Swedish yabby night.

                          

Crayfish reminds me of a story, I particularly like, told by my uncle. The uncle came from an aristocratic family that in the times before the 2^nd World War lived in the eastern part of Poland, now belonging to Ukraine. When I mentioned crayfish in one of  family dinner conversations, we heard comment muttered under his breath: “When in my family the fish pond was drained off water, we ate the fish and gave crayfish to the village rabble”. It is all relative and this is beautiful. Some think crayfish is wonderful, some think it is rubbish.

Interesting what morning musing can result in. Maybe this is a function of many memories being stored in my memory bank?

The Spotlight

Spotlight

Now is the time before Oscars and my local cinema program is richer than usually. As the result, I have seen more films in the recent times than earlier.  I have seen The Danish Girl and my personal Oscar for the best actor goes to Eddie Redmayne. I am also rating costumes in Carol and The Danish Girl equal first.  

         

 esterday, I have seen The Spotlight and I am moved and even angry. I do not think that the film itself is artistically particularly significant, but the message is of great value, in my opinion. It is an eye opening message; I hope it opens those eyes that would prefer to be closed on what is happening in the Catholic Church.  I may be reacting to the film stronger than I normally do or maybe I should, but it touches my personal experience. No, I was not molested, but I was hurt in my feelings by the clergy and I was confused by evident hypocrisy when I was very young and forming my views on what is good and what not.

Rotten Tomatoes says : “SPOTLIGHT tells the riveting true story of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Boston Globe investigation that would rock the city and cause a crisis in one of the world's oldest and most trusted institutions. When the newspaper's tenacious "Spotlight" team of reporters delves into allegations of abuse in the Catholic Church, their year-long investigation uncovers a decades-long cover-up at the highest levels of Boston's religious, legal, and government establishment, touching off a wave of revelations around the world.”

The film shows bluntly that the church is guilty of crimes of molesting children, hiding it, condoning future crimes even by the same people, protecting the criminals and allowing them to continue preaching on morality. To me this is horrible and unfortunately, I do not think much will change in my life time.  So, I am angry. I hope many more people will get angry and maybe the situation will change eventually.

                                        

My personal experience turned me against the Catholic Church, but people need spirituality in their lives. I know, I do. So the disappointed, disillusioned and hurt ones need a new religion or at least a new belief. I found some affinity in Buddhism, but I was brought up as a catholic and it was rather painful to be forced to find an alternative. I was still lucky that I was excommunicated after a divorce and   was forced to find a new way. Otherwise I may have been as so many others shutting my eyes on the church hypocrisy and crimes. So many people defend themselves from losing their false spiritual support by doing that.  In my case I was literally thrown out of the church and humiliated in front of people who were at the time of my confession in the church. It was just horrible. What I still have problems with is that I was offered a “better deal” by a church representative in Sydney. Does that mean that rules change from country to country? In the same church? Or that they sometimes change over the years? The last eventuality may be acceptable. Anyhow, I have decided not to take a better offer as far communion after a divorce is concerned and now simply believe in honesty, kindness, integrity and few other things. Something like my personal religion and faith in goodness.

Back to movies, I rate Carol 6 out of 10, The Danish Girl 7 out of 10 and Spotlight 7 out of 10. 

P.S. I have read many positive reviews on The Spotlight since I wrote my original post.  The last Sunday the film received four Satellite Awards of International Press Academy including the best picture. Looks that my personal opinion does not agree with the general one and the film is nominated also for a number of Oscar awards including the best film, Mark Ruffalo as actor in supporting role, Rachel McAdams as actress in supporting role, directing, film editing and original screenplay. Even though I mainly focused on the subject of the film, I am happy that others have not been blinded as I possibly was.

My Bridge Adventure

This is not going to be about Sydney Harbour Bridge or any other construction but about the card game.  Quite coincidentally, a couple of years ago, I joined the local bridge club – Trumps. It was on recommendation of my neighbour who used the membership of the club to get cheaper travel insurance. Since I was about to travel I thought – why not… and I joined the club not intending to play. The insurance deal worked well.

As it sometimes happens, a coincidence may lead to something important. This is how it was this time. I used to play bridge when I was a student and then life happened. Marriage, changing countries, intensive work, setting a home, then setting another home… There was no time for bridge and nobody around me was interested in card games. I always loved cards so I played patience from time to time. And now I was a member of a bridge club and even got regular information on club activities. One day I thought, why not pay a visit to the club and find out what is going on there. I have been paying for being a member, after all.

I started to play as a beginner and realized that I do not know much about the game. It is not a rubber game that I knew years ago but something called duplicate bridge. The rules of play and behaviour are very different to the ones I remembered. But most of all bidding is done in a totally different way to the one I once practiced. It started as a confusing fun. For a year, I played once or twice a week not having a regular partner. My game was not to bad, I still remembered few things and using logic helped as well. For bidding I used my own convention called common sense and this of course is not type of bridge one plays in clubs. I did not know the language of bidding and I still know very little of it, but I am on my way to learn.

We stayed in Waldorf Leura Gardens. Nice old fashioned place.

                                     

Few weeks ago I came across information about a bridge holiday in Blue Mountains and again I thought - why not… I asked the club director if my current bridge level will be sufficient and if a lack of a partner would make me unsuitable and I got re-assurance that I will be fine and welcome. He is a very kind man. When I started to assess my move I got cold feet but my shy tries to get out of the deal met with reassurance that I will be fine. So, last week I went to Leura being very nervous. The nervousness was fully justified and in fact it was harder than I had expected. I managed, but the feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming and justified. The gap between me and the rest of the players was enormous. I guess it was OK in a spinach type of way. It did not taste decent but it was good for me. I was aware that at times I did not understand what I was told (in the bidding language) and that my answers were often surprising and confusing. I had my better moments when my brain was not cooked to destruction, but they were not that frequent.

On positive side, being exhausted I slept very well each night.

Have I learned a lot of bridge in the process? Not really, but I have learned a lot of bridge etiquette and made a good plan how to keep learning. I also met a lot of great people and found out things about Australians and their life style. I especially liked people from the country. Old fashioned, in the best way, type of people. Kind, down to earth, straight forward, with great sense of humour and, I would imagine, honest and trustworthy.

This is how I spent four days. Hmm...

                                     

But the most positive outcome is being invited as a bridge partner. My club is divided into two rooms. One for beginners as myself and one for bridge grown ups. I have been playing in the kindergarten but now, to my delight,  once a week I will be paying with a very charming lady and a good bridge player as an intermediate. I am thrilled and very proud.

I have jumped into deep water but I have not sunk. This is some kind of achievement even if my ego was seriously bruised.

David Copperfield

I have been going a lot to movies lately and I even have a backlog in writing about the ones that I have seen and that made an impression on me. I would like to sort out my thinking by writing about the films. Writing brings clarity to my, at times, convoluted thoughts.

In addition to liking movies I love reading. I started the year with one of the books on lists of the greatest books ever.  My pick was The Personal History of David Copperfield. It was rather a strange choice as I had never been attracted to Dickens even if I know most of the stories but mainly from films. In Poland Dickens was not mandatory as school reading, so I missed it in my young years. Maybe I read Great Expectations early on, I do not quite remember. Obviously it did not make a memorable impression. So, I thought that it is time to catch up with English classics. There was a need to get a copy of the book and luckily I found a second hand shop run by a lovely lady and a little King Charles spaniel, Hugo. The shop is called Love Vintage Books and specializes in children literature. I just found that the shop has its Face Book presence https://www.facebook.com/LoveVintageBooks/. It looks that there are many interesting things going on in the shop. I will follow the shop in the future.

The book I bought was published by Oxford University Press and is lovely. The whole book s in one small volume, printed on over 800 very thin pages in a small print, almost too small to read comfortably. I love it! It has been my companion this month and I will be sad to part with it. This will happen today as I have only twenty or so pages to finish. After being lately exposed to so much violence and cruelty in films, the book has been a positive element bringing gentleness and high moral values to my days.

When I told my Polish friend, who happens to teach literature in a school near Warsaw, that I am reading David Copperfield he laughed and said – Oh, probity will mark now your life big way. And this is true, I love the feeling that all good people will at the end get their rewards and all bad ones will be punished for their wicked deeds. I realized that even if I did not read David Copperfield in my childhood, I read books with similar messages and I grew up believing in the world being good and honest. That made me perhaps a bit idealistic, or a lot?

I am very impressed by the book, it kept my attention on the story and I read all descriptions of landscapes, weather and divagations of Mr.Micawber with interest and without skipping a line.

In spite of the story happening in the XIXth century it is  current in psychological sense and life lessons still apply. It is a wise book. One pronouncement of an older wise person saying “There can not be disparity in marriage, like unsuitability of mind and purpose” made me stop and think for a while and it put new light on some events I observed and experienced. Poor Dora had to die for David’s “first mistaken impulse of and undisciplined heart” for the story to maintain integrity of David and happy end of the book. There was a great disparity of mind and purpose between the two lovers. Their hearts were still undisciplined.

                             

So what do I like best about the book? Of course, the integrity of the message, clarity of what is good and what is bad in human actions and motives, the story itself, the beautiful language, psychology of describing characters, their actions and motivation. Everything really.

I intend to continue with recommendations of the lists of the best books ever but may take a break for something more contemporary like Knausgaard or Donna Tartt. Then it will be Stendhal - The Red and the Black.  But first I will re-read Missing Out by Adam Phillips, the book recommended by Ramana whose comments motivate me to write my posts. This is not a book to read on a bus or in short bursts. I need to give it my full attention and quiet uninterrupted time. 

Memorable Australia Days

                               

One of the most significant days in my life was the Australia Day of 1979. I must confess that until this particular day I was not aware of the 26^th of January being a holiday. But on the day I and my husband landed at Mascot to start calling Australia home. We were tired after the 30 hours flight, a bit anxious about how this new life is going to be for us, but generally, very positive and happy. Definitely a good New Beginning! It was a cool day and we were expecting 40 degrees plus! Since we were coming from a very cold weather in Frankfurt, minus 20 or close to it, I had my marten coat with me and I even put it on to free my hands for luggage collection. It was the only time I had this coat on in Australia, but at the time I thought that some stories about the Australian weather are not all that accurate.

The natives were very friendly and took care of the couple of migrants warmly and well. As our prior arrangements did not work out as planned we took the offer of an migration officer who waited for us at the airport to take us to the Endeavour  Migrant Hostel at Coogee. It was great, we got our own little flat with a little kitchen, and we only needed to share the communal bathroom. A woman in a marten coat must have looked really strange in Sydney summer staying at the hostel for migrants. But, boy, what a happy day it was! I will always remember this Australia Day very fondly.

The second memorable Australia Day was in 1985. This was the day when I officially became an Australian. It took a very sad event for me to feel that my links with Poland are broken. My mother’s death. I was then free to change my country officially and in my heart. Australia welcomed me again.

The North Sydney council organized a ceremony for new Australians. It was a reception, pictures, certificates and souvenirs. I was moved.  For many, many years I felt exclusively Australian and did not think much about Poland. I did not meet Poles so I did not speak the language and I had very seldom contacts with family and friends in Poland.   

When I was asked about my nationality due to my “charming” accent, I was typically a bit irritated and my answer was: Australian, I only sound funny. Since then my contacts with Poland got much closer and now I have two home countries in my heart and two passports to show for it. At times I feel a bit confused about my identity.

The third Australia Day I remember well was in 2009. It was the thirties anniversary of me coming to live here. I thought that it would be good to visit Coogee on the day. I traveled a long time on a bus to get there, but I could not find the old hostel for migrants. It may not even exist any more; so many years have passed… 

I have not planned anything special for today except for small self indulgence of doing things I like. Reading, writing this post, watching tennis, planning etc. Agnieszka Radwanska gave me a little present with her victory and qualifying to the semifinal of the Australian Open. I have stuck a little Australian flag, complements of the local council, in my geranium pot and feel that I am a celebrating Australian.

The Hateful Eight

I have seen the film! And I am happy that I got courageous at the end. I perhaps made too much of a deal out of my little dilemma. The Revenant was  difficult for me to such an extent that I lost perspective for a while. Maybe it makes The Revenant a good film, definitely a powerful one, but I did not like it. Tarantino is different, maybe not everybody’s cup of tea and there is a lot of blood in his films but he is definitely my cup of tea, however strange it seems and  blood in his films does not seem real, so it does not bother me, strangely enough.

I have seen The Hateful Eight in the Ultra Panavision 70mm Roadshow. A lot about such screening is more technical than I would like to spend time on to fully understand, but the big screen made an impression on me. It seems strange that in the 1950s and 60s some films were made using this technique and then it was stopped. I also liked the musical overture to start the show, an intermission between the acts and a souvenir program. And no ads or shorts before screening. They are all features of an old fashion roadshow.

Since it is rather hot in Sydney those days, I chose a midday session to cool off in an air-conditioned cinema. The cinema was not full, but there were more people than usually at such an early time and the audience was somehow different to what can be seen other times. A number of young men who came on their own was rather unusual to see, but for some reason I liked it.

What about the film? Fantastic story with almost Agatha Christie suspension right up to the end.  Sense of humour that resonates with me. I only wished for subtitles as I missed some dialogues delivered in strong accents. The performance of all the actors was absolutely splendid; I cannot even pick who I liked best. Maybe Samuel L. Jackson? Really hateful. Or Jennifer Jason Leigh? Really awful. Or The Hangman – Kurt Russell?

              

                                                                                                         

I know that I may seem a bit strange to some and I understand it, but it looks that I am really converted to Tarantino’s ways. There was not a moment in the three hours of the screening that I would feel bored. And the music of Ennio Morricone! Brilliant.

During the credits displayed at the end of the film Tarantino teases us with Orbison’s song There Won’t be Many Coming Home and the song fits so well the ending of the film.

I have been thinking about the film quite a lot, it left a strong impression on me and a desire to see it again. Maybe even more than once. I also read some reviews, most of them very complimentary. Obviously Tarantino has many followers of his unusual talent even if film industry does not spoil him with awards.

In addition to Tarantino’s special sense of humour, great acting, fantastic story to the last scene full of surprises, music and photography the film carries also a profound message. Using terms from some of the reviews it places a mirror in front of America. Hateful Eight represent hateful characteristic of American people. This must be difficult to take. I felt really uncomfortable watching the scene of the Confederate General Sandy Smithers expressing his conviction and views on Yankees. The n word was flying high and often. I could hardly believe I was hearing it right. One of The Confederate quote is : “ According to the Yankees, it’s a free country”. Well, Gone with the Wind does not look that pretty any more.

                                           
                                       
My very subjective rating 10 out of 10. 

To see or not to see

My little Hamletish divagations concern only the issue of going to movies to see The Hateful Eight or not. The Revenant used my patience and tolerance for watching violence. It is going to be more of it in the Tarantino’s new film. After all there are eight hateful people being heroes of the film. And Tarantino likes blood dripping from the screen.

Yet, I am hesitating. I have two or three days to make my decision as if I see the film I want it to be the 70mm version. I do not fully understand what the plus of such version is, but I understand some and want the whole intended effect.

                         

The reason for me considering such a trivial issue is my introduction to Tarantino’s films. It was more than 10 years ago when I was making a significant change in my life. Moving to Poland, becoming a part of a new family. All together one of my favourite concept of a new beginning. This typically brings new hopes, new dreams and temporary distortion of reality. For me it was also going back to my intellectual Polish roots after a lifetime of corporate and personal achievements. Even before I landed in Gdansk with my earthly goods and my little dog Kiki, I was told that I will need to see Pulp Fiction, the best film ever. I obviously had a lot to catch up with as I had never heard the name Tarantino before. So, soon after my arrival I was set in front of TV set (no popcorns, but a glass of sweet, herbal vodka confusingly called bitter) with father and son watching my reactions and expecting my elation. Frankly I was not that much impressed but seeing things through pink glasses at that time, I really gave the film a go. It was not that bad. Not quite the type of film I would choose myself, but there is always a value of opening one’s horizons to add new. I must say that by now I have seen the film few times and it has been growing up in my opinion considerably. I am thankful for the introduction.

Then The Kill Bill came along and the young man was very impressed. I respected his views but he said – Blooood all over the place! Even his father was not that keen to go to movies and see it. So that was it until one night in Gdansk when I could not sleep. I have a small TV set in the kitchen, so sleepily I wondered there and put the TV on. The scene took my interest and I stood and watched for a while. It was the part of choosing the Hattori Hanzo’s sword. After a short time I was transfixed and watched the film to the end still standing up. I may have made some herbal tea during that time, but I have not stopped watching for a second. Yes, it was a lot of blood, but it was so stylized that I was not repulsed by it at all. Just the opposite I was watching the bloody scenes admiring choreography and the sense of humour.  I have seen the film many times since this memorable night, so I am hesitating now about The Hateful Eight. Should I buy myself three hours of stress or be respectful to my health and time? Any advice?

I have also seen Django Unchained on one of my long trips from Sydney to Europe and I found it again funny in spite of being cruel and gory. For me with Tarantino it is just a convention and cruel scenes do not have the same effect as scenes of The Revenant meant to scare and repulse. It is still difficult watching so my decision is still to be made…

The Revenant

 Just a brief note about my impressions on The Revenant. I did not intend to see the film until the news about the Golden Globes:  the best motion picture, the best director, the best actor. Since I am interested in films, I thought that I should see it even if I knew it was not my type of a film.

Well, I spent big parts of the films under my seat (a metaphor of course). The violence and the cruelty were much too much for me. Was it art? Not in my mind. Has Di Caprio showing disgust in eating a still warm liver of a freshly killed animal, displayed his prowess as an actor?   I would say that he did not have to use any acting skills at all. Putting actors though ordeals does not deserve acting awards in my opinion. If Di Caprio gets an Oscar this year it will be mainly for his perseverance in jumping through director's hoops. He waited a long time for his Oscar, in my opinion if you work  in your profession with dedication for a long time, you deserve a superannuation. But Oscar? Hmmm...

The story is simple if not simplistic and not even believable. I have been told in one of the comments that the story is actually based on true events. Well... it shows that real life is sometimes unbelievably strange. I thank kvd for the information.  

There was one thing about the film I liked, the photography.

I do not dare to rank the film, I started to wonder if I know anything about films at all.

I was planning to see The Hateful Eight, strangely enough I like Tarantino, but I will think it over. I used all my resistance to violence and cruelty watching The Revenant.

Suffragette

Typically I sort out my impressions, observations and judgment related to films through writing about them and then most of the time I post the written review. This time I have a bit of a backlog. I have seen lately Suffragette and Truth. I liked the films but they did not make a significant impression on me and I did not know what I could really write about them. There has been another reason too. I wanted to continue writing about my plans for 2016. This is not an easy subject and I still have some work to do before I really know how I want to live this year to make it really special this time. The best year ever, as some gang ho motivators say. Let’s say a good year, anyhow. I will get to it soon but for now it will be about the films I have seen, as it looks I need to do some catching up with films to see the ones that were awarded Golden Globes.

                                

Suffragette, I believe, is a British film, at least many actors playing  in the film are British. Carey Mulligan, Helena Bonham Carter, Romola Garai, Ben Whishaw, Brendan Gleeson. Well, Brendan Gleeson is really Irish but this is definitely not a Hollywood production even if Meryl Streep plays the cameo role of Emmeline Pankhurst, the political activist and leader of the British suffragette movement. Woman who helped women to win the voting rights. Being a recently declared feminist, I had to see the film. It was sort of an obligation, really. I realized how little I know about women movements that were so necessary for me to be as independent and free as I am now, in the XXI century. It was not that long time ago when Swiss women were not allowed to vote. They got their rights as late as 1971.  I found that very surprising. One would think Switzerland is a civilized country. Obviously not in all aspects. No wonder women still have issues with equality, it is still rather new.

I have not liked to hear about violence related to feministic movements. I do not agree with violence in any form. Seeing the film, however, I realized that women of the times did not have any other choice but to bring their point across in a violent way. They were not heard unless they shocked or scared the society. Did Emily Davison wanted to shock through suicidal stepping in front of the King George V’s horse or was she just unlucky?  The truth most likely will not be known but this does not change the fact that she was in despair to bring the message across no matter what the price. And that price was her life.

                                        

The film is also about growing up. Maud, played by Carey Mulligan, at the beginning of the film is just interested in what is going on among women she works with. Coincidently she gets involved in presenting women plea for voting rights.  This starts her strong involvement in the movement leading to loosing her family. She becomes a woman with the purpose. I like the way Carey Mulligan handled the metamorphosis of the character. Rather a subtle performance and by this subtleness powerful.

What particularly moved me was the story of Maud’s husband who through pressure of the society threw the too independent woman from home and not being able to combine taking care of their son and working, gave away the son for adoption. His last cry was: what have I done ??!! Looks that men were also hurt by unjust treatment of women.

This brings me to my favourite couple of the film actors : Romola Garai and Ben Whishaw. Ben Whishaw plays the father and the role of Romola Garai is this time not particularly significant. I first saw them in the series The Hour, they both were memorable. Since then I have seen them in several productions and I believe that they have great future ahead of them, at least Ben Whishaw.

                 

Maybe the film made more of an impression on me than I initially though or maybe I am too verbose? In any case it is enough this time, I will have to write about Truth on another occasion.

My rating 6 out of 10.

Happy New Year!

                            

I have started the year in a very beautiful part of Australia, very quietly and philosophically. It was not my usual start to a new year but new beginning sometimes calls for new ways.  This is how it was this year.

My new year started in Kangaroo Valley, in Glenmack Park. I am not a camping person and Glenmack Park is a caravan and camping place. I did not feel that camping was my way of living and I hired a self contained-cabin with air conditioning. So I was not exactly roughing it. The reason why I found myself there was my long estranged friend celebrating her 21^st anniversary of coming to Australia on the 31^st of December. She and her two sons spend their summer holidays camping in Kangaroo Valley. In the process I discovered how camping places in Australia look like and work. This is really impressive and attractive way to live. Maybe not for everybody, maybe even not for me, but  I appreciated the community spirit, easiness of making new friends and comfort one can achieve through great organization and service. I am not sure if I will repeat the experience but I really enjoyed it my time there.

             

Kangaroo Valley threw a party, as any respectable place in Australia would, and the 9:00 fire works in its length and quality suited the special occasion of saying good bye to 2015. The old year was finishing with a bang but the new one started with only one skyrocket. This came rather as a surprise but not a disappointment. I knew the new has started.

New Year should start with new resolutions. It is true that our New Year resolutions fizzle out and are forgotten rather soon after the year has started. It also happens that we promise ourselves that this time it will be different, that we will be more diligent in following on our promises. This is exactly the point I am at right now. I am hopeful that it will be right this time, even if I am a little skeptical about living up to my expectations. Of course I expect changes to my initial plans, even some disappointments with myself. But I am planning to follow up on my plans on monthly basis to check with myself if I am on track. Say, first week of each month. Maybe I will manage to go through this year being happy with my progress?

The first step is now. This is a decision making time, a decision on what is especially important to me. Things I want to focus on. In Steven Covey’s words I want to identify my rock tasks and focus on them first. For me it is health, friendships, learning, reading and writing, giving, home, travels and generally fun and pleasure.

The next step is to design my masterpiece day and define projects for the year. I am still working on details.

Lewis Howes, the author of The School of Greatness poses questions:

How do I want my every day to look?

How do I want to feel every single day?

What am I creating daily?

Who am I spending time with?

What places am I exposing myself to?

What passions am fulfilling?

They are good and important questions and I find that the answers are not so easy to come up with. After some reflection though, I found my answers. At least their first cut.