It's been a minute...

When I first posted a blog, I seriously intended on keeping it up at least on a monthly basis. Obviously, that is not how it worked out. Time is a strange thing, and a concept I often think about. Our perception of it changes over our lifetime, and is influenced by changing societal norms.

I like to compare our ideas about time to our ideas of space, I see some real similarities there. When we feel that we “run out of” space, we fool ourselves into believing that, if we only had more space we could organize our “stuff” better. What happens in reality though is that when we get more space, we end up filling it with more stuff, and then we “need” more space, again. It is the same thing with time. We like to fool ourselves that if we only had “more time”, we would get more done. But when we have made our lives easier to free up time (with helpful gadgets etc.) all we end up doing is filling that time with more “to do” stuff. When taking time off is stigmatized and appearing busy is valued, we feel the pressure to busy ourselves.

Ask yourself, when was the last time you truly took time to do NOTHING? It is impossible to do nothing. We are always doing SOMETHING. Sitting, eyes closed, enjoying the spring sunshine in your backyard - you are doing something. The thoughts, emotions, ideas that this simple being in the moment evoke IS doing something, and it is important.

I suppose I have spent some time doing nothing lately - isn’t that something?

Longing for the deep blue sea - a memory

I came upon this image recently as I was revamping my website, and it brought up so many memories. I titled it “Longing for the deep blue sea” aiming to reference the long history of fishing as a source of industry and survival in Portugal. The fish represents the atlantic cod (clearly I did not attempt to replicate a true cod), a centuries old mainstay of the fishing commerce and source of the Portuguese culinary staple bacalhao.

The fish is being “offered up” by a fisherman donning a traditional, woolen Portuguese fisherman’s hat. I remember them embarking on the beach before dawn, where fishmongers had already gathered in droves vying for a good spot in the sand preparing to bid on the best of the fresh catch.

Later in the day, accompanying my mother to the fish market, the briney aroma of fresh fish wafting over the stands, the shrill voices of the vendors competing for customers’ attention, I watched as she chose the most bright eyed, silvery specimen as the candidate for that night’s supper. i remember the pang of pity for the demise of this beautiful creature, while also anticipating with delight the tasty meal that lay ahead.

Longing for the deep blue sea