Monday, August 16, 2010
The Prague Diner Manifesto
posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 12:35 am
On our third day in Prague, inspired by the Happiness Project which I had just finished reading, I set myself the task of coming up with my ‘personal commandments.’ I did it in a restaurant that our guide called a diner, hence the name. I wrote this down on the back of a spare place mat, in the time it took for our dinner to be cooked. I edited it a little on the plane ride home, and I have done a little re-arranging tonight, but the core of it reminds unchanged.
And so, without further ado, I present you with the Prague Diner Manifesto:
- Follow your heart.
- And do it with courage.
- Remember to pray for what you want, and you may just get it.
- Remember all the magic you have come across, and it will beget new magic.
- Act with grace, even, or perhaps especially, when others fail to do so.
- Don’t take the world’s imperfections personally; they are not because of you.
- Practice patience; impatience does not make things happen.
- Spend your attention wisely and well; it is powerful and precious.
- Keep the faith; there is a reason for this madness, although you may never know it.
- Love is the stick you throw.
- Love is the seed you plant.
- Love is its own reward.
Wait, gentle reader. Don’t go just yet. For once, I would like to ask something of you. If you do exist, please, please leave a comment with one of your own commandments. I would really like to know.
Monday, August 9, 2010
posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 11:29 pm
And then I blinked, and it was August.
In this crazy country, where summer is at its height when it begins and at its worst when you need it most, August feels positively autumnal. Just to prove this point, the tree across the street has decided to start turning red. The days, too, are suddenly noticeably shorter. I cannot escape the feeling that summer is over, and that before long my holidays will be too. September, with its rush of busyness and inspiration, with its demand for focus and action, with its need for hard work and early nights, suddenly seems just round the corner.
I’m not ready, I tell the tree as I stand by the window. I’m not ready, I tell the darkness as it falls, a little earlier than it did yesterday. I’m not ready, I tell the books I need to read and the plans I need to make and all the things I need to think of. I’m not ready. I need more summer, more idleness, more dreaminess and purposelessness, more time to drift and to just be. I’m not ready.
The tree doesn’t say anything, and neither does the night. The books stare silently. And as I stare back, I know this in my heart: just as surely as I will never be ready, I am as ready as I will ever be.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Well, there was also the sunshine
posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 10:18 pm
Which, on days like these, I sorely miss. The water, too.