In the waiting

Hello Sundays lovers.

There is a lot of joy to be found in the rain coming at the most benefic moment. It has prompted me to think about the beauty of waiting for it because it is very beneficial for the gardens and the trees and plants, and it seems to be equally beneficial just to wait even more to watch the entire unfolding of it. My mum was as glad as a kid seeing for first snow of the season just by welcoming a good old summer rain in her village after a long draught. She said in all its sweetness earlier “I just sat there by the window and watch the rain pouring over the garden with my window open”.

There was a lot of joy for myself too, in welcoming otherwise typical summer rains in our village in Hong Kong. All this weekend little storms and heavy rains have peaked up about 5 am each morning, giving me ample time to wake up, meditate, come to my senses and literally start my day anew at about 6am. I am in love with this space just before sunrising, where there might be light or not, where there might be pouring rain outside or inside the staircase, where there is something to check to make sure everything is secure, where there is so much in fact unknown.

There was a lot of joy also because the down-pouring simplified my Saturday morning syndrome and there was not much thinking involved as “what shall I do?” , “How shall I go about my day?”….. Everything has been suddenly reduced to “let me finish this book that I have started”. I might even say I am now in between two” boats” - one book for the day supporting my studies , which require concentration and a bit more space in between to also breathe in all the wisdom that was served to me and one for lighter book for evening where the events of a novel might just flow and take me places.

With all that set-up in mind, I have been reflecting quite a bit on the huge impact and differences in our lives of the word “instant”. Instant gratification and the big shift in searching for everything “positive” experiences, affirmations, reactions, and in general as we know it, the instant information availability. Or the expectation of an instant reply to a question that might need some pondering, the instant access to some sort of knowledge and research, the fact that everything is just being just expected to happen the moment we even think about it.

The subjectivity that comes with that for me is that often when I research for something in a rush, I might expect the answer that comes first or maybe on the first landing page to be really the most profound outcome out there. And it is often not the case. I would find myself on page 3 or page 5 sometimes and yet, as instant as that first “aha, here it is” blink in my mind happened - I would quickly realise that I have wanted more or different resources links really. I hope that AI will be also brought up soon as a magic librarian, able to connect us with the treasures as in “wisdom” of the world.

I will bring back to life some of my mental archives for you here to maybe imagine for a minute what was like to be a kid in my time. As there was nothing instant, except the instant coffee available at that time, a time when I was not yet obsessed by coffee. I would have to add though that for those who still use the famous instant Nescafe today, the ceremony or preparation had nothing instant about it. It was a straight muscle-building activity, mostly practiced by all woman in the gathering enjoying that indulgence. Everyone would stir up their own coffee with a fury, to achieve the best of the foams, and even compete and make a fuss at each other’s production. It was the ratio with the sugar, the amount of water you had to add as a starter, the “Dalgona” spirit was there and no one was calling it anything. It was about neighbours coming together, grandmothers and daughters, it was always about community. And it was always about doing other chores together, maybe sewing a homework for my art class, maybe baking cakes, maybe making pickles, there was a spontaneous event for the women in the community to help each other. I loved the stories most of the time and I loved to prepare coffee for anyone.

The place where I wanted mostly to take you with me now would be my summer holidays and all that space created around me that I am only now profoundly aware of.

That is the space in the waiting.

We were waiting for the right time for something or waiting while engaging in an activity, a slow moving activity I would add.

Water could be found in the fountains of the village. Some would have their own fountain in the front yard, some would go to the main street and wait for others to fill up their buckets and carry them home. We would then have to master the art of collecting the water and bring it up without hurry, with precision movements for balance so the bucket will be full. I loved all these challenges. We would go in a group of cousins or neighbours and help each other and also wait to return all at the same time. I have started with buckets of 5L and made my way up to 10L each, as we had to carry sometimes 2 for more balance to take it back. Ask me to do this now…. Most probably I will start with 5L again!

There was never any funny business with water, no games, as we were fully responsible to have fresh water at home. (Surely enough, my grandmother found my desire to shower frequently quite a posh thing yet she has always supported all my set-up and “flimsiness”.) As I said, the space created then for me is invaluable and I can see its real value maybe only now with quite fresh eyes.

The mornings were early and the dinners too ,most of each were timed by the herds of animals leaving the village and being taken to the pastures for the day. The herders will take shifts and there will be again a bunch of kids, different ages, taking this chore very serious, carrying some lunch and water and a good stick for steering. Sometimes, dogs will join them. We would wait to start the day after the herds have left the village.In the evenings, all will be centred around the cows coming back to the village. Day by day, the kids will become more and more sunburnt. I have sent my “application” for this job many a times to my grandmother and have been refused and rejected plenty of times to my frustration. She has perhaps agreed a couple of occasions when one of my aunts will be in the group and I would have full protection - that was her most cherished job, to fully protect me. She did extremely well.

There was this magic in this waiting. There was a silent compass of the day, all was moving around the light, the weather of course, but all was happening with a precision, with a rhythm that generated a magic balance in our lives. Nothing was instant.

Even the rainfalls that might have been instant in other locations, would trick us into panic and then leave the city. The will be a signal, a strong wind, some mad thunders, black clouds suddenly darkening the entire courtyard. This will trigger all the people with house chores to be in position. Someone was sheltering the chickens, someone was collecting the laundry from the sunny racks, someone would pack or pull together some fruit harvest or some veggies that we would clean, and so on the list is big as every day had a different center piece of activity. We would hide home all cheering- hey, no more chores, and in the next 10 minutes of waiting for the huge storm to hit the ground we would see sharp sunny rays high again and looking for us. We have been tricked into this furious storm so many times. And for a kid all I can say the adrenaline that came with that was brilliant.

There was then the thrilling waiting for days and days for a letter to come. There was the waiting for me to write letters too. I have always been a great pen friend. I loved to share and get in touch with my friends back home. And there was an entire traffic of letters to be written and letters to be read. I never saw the postman during the day and he would sometimes mix up two households with a Petria name. He realised quickly that my grandma Petria is the one “with the letters”. The letters would be addressed to my grandma and subtitled “for Madi”….. Beautiful beautiful times.

The ceremony of opening the envelope, checking the paper, sometimes we would find special colourful paper in the one and only village store, sometimes kids will add drawings, sometimes we would add a dry leaf something. And as much as you wish, this was not 1800s.

Imagine the times now that we write an email and we expect full answer right away. We also send a whatsapp to be sure and ask very very impatiently” have you seen my email” ….and it works because we constantly check both of these sources… never mind the fury on socials etc…. Where shall we look first and what is that urgent? ….

The space created in all of this, the distance from my school routine and friends, the distance from my family as I would see my parents maybe once in 2-3 weeks then, the freedom created in that space of pursuing something new, of integrating myself with the village rhythms with its people and stories. It was a lot about chores. And yet they would always let me be with my pile of books, letters stationary and whatever I wanted to learn. I have picked up on sewing summer dresses, or aprons - that were the two major art pieces. Then it was a lot about painting walls in different rooms with different occasions and applying paper flower patterns to the corners. Yes,I know how to do that. Occasionally making donuts or making milk poridge - not a master but a stirring hand, and perhaps cleaning and picking fruits and washing a lot of clothes.

All that I have listed it was homemade and handmade. Hand-washed. Hand-picked. Hand-stirred.

That smell of the fresh laundry in the sunny days - always stuck in my memory.

The smell of fresh donuts always there.

Even to clean the iron cast pot after the rice porridge was a delight as we got to tastiest part on the bottom of the pot.

I am really there now …. All these stories are more alive than ever because it was a process, a ceremony, a participation, a deep engagement in everything we have done as kids.

Slow movements are still here. We only have to allocate time on purpose to fit those in our current “instant” pouring every day.

Thank you so very much for being here and hopefully you can also enjoy a very slow weekend, rain or not rain…..