Recently in Love, Life & everything Luscious Category

Mark notes that I am back from the shadows on his blog. Must make it clear that I had a lot of fun at Eastgate:) And the Tinderbox seminars took me all over the US which was an incredible experience. Plus the amazing and strange staff excursions we had - unforgettable!

I've been very lucky this fall.

Just before the economical crisis hit poor old Blighty and the rest of the world with full force, I found my dream job. I was nearly ready to accept that such a job did not exist - that I'd never find that workspace where everybody gets along, collaborate on fun social media projects, love challenges, carry laptops with glowing apples and message each other from iPhones, drink free latte all day long, attend great conferences and party at the secret policeman's ball in Royal Albert Hall.... sounds like a fantasy, right...? But a job just like it was out there, and since August, I've been waking up every single morning happy like a lark.

I just can't describe what it feels like to be working for the coolest little agency in town, voted this years "ones to watch" by NMA. The toughest bit to tackle at work is not feeling guilty when I browse the web for smart fashion sites, great bloggers, photos on Flickr or when I sit down to write.....a blog post.

Yes, the hardest part of my job is getting used to the fact that work now doesn't feel like work. What can I say, I'm trying my best. 

Not a wifey woman

Friday afternoon. I've just come out of two interviews with two really good companies. I guess I should have been completely drained for energy after all the preparations and consentration, but I'm peppered with excitement as the afternoon progress. I'm so super excited about next week and eager to find my next role, besides, Britt is here from Norway and would like a Chinese foot massage. We trot along to the Chinese district, where we're both sent into foot bliss for 30 minutes. Britt is an expert in this, I'm a newbie.

"My God, that was FANTASTIC!!" Britt exclaims. She glows, and so does our feet. Now it's my turn to pick some fun. "How about a fortune teller?" I suggest.

We end up in a little alley full of peculiar little bookstores. In one of the more alternative kinds, there is an Indian fortune teller in the window. "Let's go," I say, pushing Britt in the door. "Can we book some time with the man in the window," I ask the clerk, pointing towards a little room hidden behind some see through curtains. "He's free in 20 minutes" she says, and so we raid the bookshelves in the meantime. "How to find your inner peace", "Get rich the alternative way", "On women men and chocolate" - there is a well of titles, most of them with an eastern tilt. I pick up the last copy of Tony Buzan's The Ultimate Book of Mind Maps just as the clerk taps my shoulder to tell me it's my turn.

"Hello and welcome" says the fortune teller. He wants to know my name, and my birth of date. Then he wants my hands. He's pinching my palms, looking, pinching, looking. Ahhh... another massage? I'm just about to enjoy the treat when he looks at me behind his glasses with a serious mine. "You are not a wifey woman" he states. My jaw drops, what on earth does this mean? Not a wifey woman? My self image is shattered!! He reads the confusion in my face and quickly explains: "You are very strong willed. Not a wife, but you will not be happy if you won't be something in the world."

"But I still want to find the one love," I tell the reader. I want my cake and eat it too. He isn't impressed and shakes his head. "You will have many loves. Just like flowers on the way - pick them, enjoy them, but don't commit, they will dry up and then you won't be free to enjoy the next love when he comes around, keep your options open" he advises. "Many women pick husbands with houses and cars, " he continues, adding that this is not my style. Then he suddenly quiets, and examine my hand intensely. "Do not have children," he warns. "It will not be good for you."

I'm starting to realize that my fortune teller has a very conservative view on both marriage and children, so I decide not to tell him about poor Mr. Teen. Instead, I smile politely, trying to change the topic. "But how about my job?" I ask.

Now he finds a stack of tarot, and we distribute the cards on the table. We're both quiet as he asks for a blessing of the cards. I pick a number of cards, and they're left on the table, upside down. As we turn them, he asks me leading questions about what's going on in my life. Who am I seeing? Anybody? Where are they? Are they important to me? How do I feel about them? Did anything happen in June? Any changes in my life?

"I'm spending all my free time finding the job that's right for me" I volunteer away. He wants to know about my qualifications as we turn the card representing my current state. Holocaust. "Lots of chaos, change" he explains as we turn the next card. Roses. "Time is ripe!" he declares. "For your job, and for love," he adds. Another card is turned. Bubbles. At this point, I am thinking these tarot cards are nothing like I've ever seen. Bubbles?? The design brings me back to Goa this past December, a treasure for retired hippies and lovers of magic mushrooms and the psychedelic. I wonder where my reader is from.

"Love is like bubbles" he says, "they burst, then find another one. Be free! You should travel. There are four countries in your hand." "But then I'm done!" I say, "I've already lived in four countries!" Well, that's if the 6 months in the Netherlands counts. I'm suddenly not sure. In this particular case, I'd like to keep my options open...

"Anyway, there will be travel, lots of travel" says the fortune teller. "You will be more than 90 years so you've got at least 50 years left on this earth!"

But I still want to hear about my job. I try changing the topic away from love and travel and turn the next card. The Earth. Security, accomplishment. "TIme is ripe!" he says again.

Now the reading is over. He looks at me. I wiggle my nose, I'm not sure what I was expecting from all of this. I wanted to hear about my career. "Do you have another question?" he offers.

I pull another card. "What will I be really, really, reeaaaalllly good at," I ask.
The Wise Woman. "You have many things to give," he says. "Also, your palm shows that you are good at very, very many things".

"But can I not be even better in at least ONE thing," I beg. He let's me pull another card.

The Key. "You are searching," he says. "You want to find. You are looking, examining, exploring. You are searching for the answers to questions. Solutions. You are the wise woman, and you will find them."

"Ahh," I sigh. "I understand now."

"And one more thing," he offers, just as I am about to unveil the curtains and step out. "Stop preparing. You are preparing too much. You must just go, go and be you, and then you will shine. Don't prepare. Not even for your job. Just go in the interviews and be there."

I thank him, pick up my bags and pull the curtain away. As I leave, he smiles: "Pick the flowers on your way."

Britt is next in line. "How was it!" she asks quickly before her turn. Well, I'm not sure how I feel about no longer having the potential to be a wifey woman, but hey. At least I am an exploring, wise one.

In the news yesterday, I saw a story on turning ashes from loved ones into diamonds. A woman about my own age posed in front of her dead mother's painted portrait, wearing a ring with a blue stone. "I think she'd rather be a diamond than ashes," she said, with a sad smile, emphasizing that she feels she is closer to her mother now, that somehow she is still with her.

I don't know why this made me feel so uneasy. Clearly the daughter is right - better diamonds than ashes... I too, would rather be a blue diamond than grey ashes:) But.. I can't imagine carrying someone dead on my hand. Just thinking about the weight of a person's presence, body and personality compressed into the lightness of a ring is impossible to me. The transformation from person to ashes to diamond, from alive and always in change to something fixed, set in stone and cold... doesn't that sound scary? Death is a difficult topic. Thinking about it, perhaps I'd rather be a blooming flower in a yard than a diamond!

Can you believe it, there was sun, a beautiful sky, and warm air in Bergen today!

Everything feels so different. I'm beginning to feel better about being here. I finally got an office to work from. The sim card for my cell phone came and although I haven't gotten one call (!), it's still great to have my own cell again!


And I've made friends with the cafeteria lady in the library building. Probably because I'm the only one there at 8 AM:) We had a scary experience yesterday... the sliding glass doors separating the cafeteria from the public area exploded. Just like that! Made me think of the Hancock building in Boston...

When I flew in to San Francisco, I was struck by it's ugly appearance from the sky. I've been there 2 or three times before and haven't felt this way before - but perhaps I never sat in the window seat? So vulnerable, so dirty, full of pollution and strangely nested clusters of population was the land that I instantly pulled away from the window, thinking that the slightest breath of wind would whisk the tiny little buildings off the ground. The ocean was full of brown slag. San Francisco seems frightfully fragile, almost as if your first footsteps after landing might just sink the land into the ocean.

I'm in San Francisco for the Tinderbox seminar. I missed my flight on the way down and lost much of the day yesterday being rerouted through Chicago. What fun!

But I met SF Buckaroo and Caitlin Burke when I finally arrived - and we had so much fun! Caitlin and Buckaroo are two incredibly wonderful people. We went to the Tunnel Top and later, got to ride the cable cars, which at first was a bit scary, hanging off the edge. Just enough to feel the thrill of being alive:-)

This is Maddie, who usually charm the guests at Casablanca in Harvard Square, but sometimes visits Chez Henri late at night. Susanne (to the right), is Maddie's Godmother. I, too, want to be Maddie's Godmother..

- I think! I got some white linen pants from my aunt a few months ago - she keeps sending me my old size. You know, the size from your previous life when everything was perfect and so were you! Sigh. Usually, it's not such a big deal because we don't exactly have the same taste in clothes anyways. But this time.... my aunt sent me JUST WHAT I NEEDED & I was too fat.

I got up early this morning... and grabbed the pants on an impulse. Wriggle. Wriggle... wriggle?

THEY FIT!!

I'm wearing white linen & I feel so sleek:-)

From Po Bronson's website :

(1) That money is the shortest route to freedom.
(2) That we can think (or analyze) our way to an answer of where we belong.
(3) That we are autonomous from the environment that surrounds us.
(4) That our biggest obstacles are external, rather than internal.


I guess it all depends on the context...