“The café counter is the parliament of the people”

Like most of my peers, I was recently infected with the dreaded coronavirus. Surprisingly enough, this turned out to be a blessing, in that it forced me off the hamster wheel and gave me back some time. Time to pause and reflect on our modes of communication. This was triggered by a search through the sea of podcasts for one that would consistently elevate my mind without feeling like a heavy lift. I stumbled upon a remarkable Serbian podcast, which manages a delicate balance of maintaining high quality while being pleasant to listen to for up to three hours per episode. Every week, the sharp and talkative creator and host of “Agelast” welcomes prominent individuals from a wide array of fields, ranging from actors to educators, from physicists to authors, to name but a few.

(The title animation for the podcast series “Agelast”)

What I have found interesting, aside from the audio content itself, is the realisation that over the last two years, I’ve been missing this sort of long conversation, organically flowing from one topic to the next. Most discussions in our lives have been taking place online, which comes with a certain pressure to be succinct and make a targeted point. This goal of being always as concise as possible is particularly emphasized in the work sphere and seems prevalent in north-western cultures. By contrast, the loquacious south-eastern part of Europe allows much more freedom to take time and improvise in conversations. The café culture is particularly strong in these countries, which can be felt even while listening to this podcast. There is room for verbal wanderings – which are highly underrated, considering the fact that they give birth to unexpected gems of thought.

I first recognised this southern cultural trait some 25 years ago in Dalmatia. There, I noticed that philosophy, politics and culture were everywhere, in conversations among ordinary shop owners, workers, pensioners. They would chat at length about the human condition and the universe, quoting Tolstoy, Jung or Descartes in passing. There, I found knowledge and philosophy in the streets to a far greater extent than in New York or London. This was probably, in part, thanks to the heritage of the extraordinary educational system in Yugoslavia. But I believe that what creates fertile ground for such interactions is also the slower pace of life and the ritual of spending hours sipping coffee with friends and acquaintances. Coffee is what you gather around rather than the object of going to a café. And the same creative results cannot be had by taking shortcuts or planning conversations like you would a bullet point presentation.

The measures that have been in place due to the pandemic have interrupted these fertile – albeit seemingly aimless – flows of thought for many. For my friends and myself, it has taken this abrupt break to realise how much our mental health is dependent on intellectual and emotional live stimulation. And though video calls are an acceptable temporary alternative to in-person conversations, they do not allow us the same degree of freedom and unwinding, which require time. Moreover, for many of us, this new reality has meant trading in personal time for work time which, in turn, has resulted in a steep increase in burnout.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

Whereas the term “burnout” is excessively used, it is rarely mentioned that some of the contributing factors are a lack of intellectual stimulation or challenges in the workplace. Pragmatically, we are encouraged to build our careers on what comes naturally to us, what we are talented at, because it is arguably the area that we can reach the greatest heights in by reinforcing our predisposed skills. But if you stick to what comes easiest to you, there is a risk of missing challenges. And where there is no challenge, there cannot be the same ensuing pride you experience upon overcoming obstacles. Hence the importance of possible upwards mobility in companies, so as to encourage employees to reach new heights and challenge themselves if they wish to. And if they do, adequate recognition must also be part of the system, instead of what we are seeing today, namely a carrot and stick scenario, in which only a lucky few will ever get the carrot. The faster you run after the carrot, the less headspace you have for thoughts that would, in turn, feed your creativity and help your mind and spirit grow in unexpected ways. But I digress, as I would in an in-person conversation…

Circling back to my initial point, I find that stopping the race for the carrot has helped me drop my blinkers. This regained vision of a vast horizon also means hearing voices that connect me with a broader world than my own. And where the humoristic and punchy lines of Stephen Colbert, Trevor Noah, Seth Meyers or John Oliver helped me deal with the COVID-world while I was in the hamster wheel, now that I’m off, the long slaloms of “Agelast,” artfully directed by Galeb Nikačević, put this whole experience back in the broader context of all that is human existence. And what’s more, this podcast has inspired me to end my evenings by reading books that have been waiting on my nightstand for months. Thus I would conclude that knowledge breeds knowledge – provided it is shared by the right catalyst.

(Title: quote by Honoré de Balzac)

“42 Up”

Some ten years ago, I watched a documentary film that had a deep impact on how I perceive life. It was entitled “42 Up”. It followed a number of Brits from different regions and social backgrounds every seven years, from the ages of seven to forty-two. I saw them go from being sparkly-eyed kids to awkward teenagers to responsible adults to middle-aged men and women. Some more ordinary than others, some happier, some more successful, some more fulfilled than others.

Seeing the result of this film, spanning over thirty-five years, left me feeling both amazed and sad. What I found in all of them was the inevitable loss of innocence that comes with age and experience. That also went with a loss of ideals in many. And loss of beauty as well. Today, at forty-two, I should watch it again and see how I feel about it. Or better still, I should watch the latest film in Michael Apted’s series that began with “Seven Up!” (1964), which is now “63 Up”. Somewhere along the line, the title lost its exclamation mark… which, incidentally, seems a perfect way to sum up the difference between the ages of seven and sixty-three.

In this COVID-19 crisis, I am fortunate to have a new job that I’m excited about, to have my wide-eyed child by my side, to live in a home and a neighbourhood I love, to be in regular touch with my loving family. But these times of relative isolation have also brought on a new wave of reflection which, combined with the Netflix content I’ve been watching (such as “Marriage Story” or “The Last Dance”) reminds me that life doesn’t turn out the way one expects. Ever. There are unexpected successes, joys, falls and pains. And while love and hope inspire and drive us, suffering and pain play a significant role in shaping us as well. I saw this in “42 Up”, too. There is so much we do – or avoid doing – for fear of being hurt.

(Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic)

Though I don’t believe that we are born as clean slates, I do see us as clay shapes that life hits, carves, moulds over time. Bit by bit, we evolve into complex beings, growing increasingly unique and different from each other, as life adds one texture after another to our initially smooth clay. At middle age, I perceive love and hope in my peers. But none has kept that initial innocence we all used to have. That faith that there will be a “happily ever after”. Because our lives have taught us otherwise. There is no “ever after” as such. There is only happy, then unhappy, then happy again, and so on and so forth. But over time, erosion makes us less affected or moved by unhappiness and happiness alike. Our skin gets thicker, we roll with the punches and we enjoy well-deserved rests after each round.

In this time of contemplation for the whole world, I do appreciate what I have. I also look forward to many more moments of happiness. Even though I know better than to expect what I imagine for myself to come true (in the positive or the negative sense), I do know that joy comes back to me after every struggle. But where am I right now? If I were to do my own “42 Up” recap of my life, it would probably go like this: At age seven, my world was enchanted, almost perfect. At fourteen, it was painful and filled with self-loathing. At twenty-one, it was hopeful and looking to the future. At twenty-eight, it was harsh but glorious. At thirty-five, it was awakened to what adult life is. At forty-two, it is unsettled and I am searching for steady ground.

(Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic)

For three years, I have been feeling like the earth under my feet has been shaking. And, like in a seismic zone, every time it stops, another earthquake rocks the ground I walk upon. And it isn’t easy to build on moving ground. But I have been fortunate enough to join a company built on the concept of constant transformation, flexibility and adaptability. And my travelling companion is a little girl who loves the circus so much, she now excels at finding her balance in any situation like a tightrope walker. What I must now learn from both is not to expect the ground to ever stand still, but rather to function and grow on moving ground. Perhaps by the next seven-year mark, my spirit will be as agile as my daughter’s nimble body.

(Title: Documentary Film directed by Michael Apted)