For the general health of our society, we should all welcome – or at least come to terms with – the relative discomfort of taking nothing for granted and questioning everything.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
It is certainly more comfortable to go through life without asking questions. As the comedian Trae Crowder says in his show “Trash Daddy”:
I think it’d be great to be dumb… because dumb people are confident…. They don’t have existential crises, they don’t lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling thinking: “Am I blaming the Jews enough?” Dumb people don’t have doubt. Smart people are racked with doubt. Every day, smart people [are wondering]: “I think I’m going about this the right way, but what if I’m wrong though? What if there’s information I don’t yet have, what if there are factors I’ve not yet considered, what if I’m wrong about this?” …
Why you think [alcohol] is so popular with smart people? … Because [it’s] ‘liquid stupidity’… People call alcohol ‘liquid courage’: they try to act like it temporarily makes you confident. No, it temporarily makes you dumb, and confident is a side effect of dumb – that’s how it works. We’ve all experienced it: You go out one night you’re drinking… and you’re the life of the party, you’re killing it – in your head. [Then] you wake up the next morning [thinking]: “God, I’m such an… idiot! Why did I say all that dumb shit last night?” Well, imagine you never had to wake up that way, you never had to feel that shame. That’s what being dumb is.”
– Trae Crowder, stand-up comedy show “Trash Daddy”
And although we sometimes wish we could be dumb, and rid ourselves of doubt, it is this constant questioning—of ourselves, of others, of this world—that allows our evolution, both as a species and as individuals. Stability is sometimes necessary to strengthen us, but it does not move us forward.
Perhaps the goal is to move through life like a voyage by boat: after facing rough seas, we enjoy anchoring in a peaceful bay, or even spending some time on solid ground. But to keep the boat from deteriorating, and not to lose our reflexes, sooner or later we must set sail again. Going from island to island, meeting different people—family, lovers, friends, colleagues. Some for part of the journey, others just for a moment, others still for a lifetime.
But to breathe, to take in the most incredible landscapes, to discover our limits or become aware of our strengths, we must climb back on board again and again—sometimes despite ourselves. Little by little, we end up finding our own balance in the constant motion of the waves, the currents, the winds. We find our own rhythm, with others and without them. But we can never quite lower our guard or fully let go—lest we fall… into boredom.
(Title quote taken from Trae Crowder’s stand-up comedy show)
I recently went to see the play “Girls like that” – by British-Canadian playwright Evan Placey – which stirred up deep emotions in me. Through his characters, Placey dissects the devastating impact of a leaked naked photo on a group of teenage girls, within the broader context of the toxicity of patriarchy and the cruelty of modern cyberbullying. The skilful Belgian director France Bastoen turned this already truthfully harsh and well-constructed text into a hard-hitting play, which affected me particularly directly. As I mentioned in my post “Dripping water hollows out stone” (about mechanisms of victimisation) I was bullied by my classmates in school.
Having experienced systematic bullying from the ages of eight to fifteen, I applaud the way in which Placey managed to grasp teenage girl group dynamics, as well as their individual inner turmoils. Only one sentence in the play sounded more like wishful thinking than a genuine reaction in such situations: when confronting her bullies, the main character, Scarlett, tells them that they will never forget her, while she will go on to forget them. Based on my own experience, but also on numerous accounts of similar experiences by other adults, I can safely say that anyone who has truly been bullied during their childhood or adolescence never forgets this experience. This is not to say that they cannot outgrow it. Quite the contrary. They will often rise far above their bullies.
I dislike the expression: “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” because I feel that suffering can sometimes weaken you deeply. But in this particular case, I think it may apply. I would, however, add a caveat, namely that I doubt becoming stronger is caused by being bullied. Rather, I believe that truly original people or misfits have an innate strength that makes them a threat to flocks of sheep, or herds of any kind. That is precisely the element that causes them to become the targets of bullies. Some victims do end up being destroyed by the viciousness of group violence – whether verbal, psychological, or physical – over time. But those who are not often go on to be much more exceptional than any member of a flock.
“(In high school) they scare you into conforming (…) by saying if you’re a loser now, you’re going to be a loser forever. (…) They just beat it in your head as early as sixth grade: ‘Don’t fuck up, because if you do, you’re gonna die poor and lonely.’ And of course, it’s completely the opposite: all the dorks in high school go on to do great things.” – As Matt Stone in Michael Moore’s “Bowling for Columbine“, 2002
Matt Stone being interviewed by Michael Moore in”Bowling For Columbine”, 2002
Although I am by no means an aggressive person, I could partially empathise with the two kids who shot their schoolmates at Columbine High School. Naturally, I don’t condone their crime in any way, but I do see how ostracised and bullied teenagers could be driven to that point of no return. The depth of wounds classmates can inflict upon their prey is often underestimated. I personally still bore the figurative scars twenty-five years later, as I was pregnant with my daughter. At the time, when thinking of what lessons I wanted to pass on to my unborn child, the first thing that came to mind was: she must never silently endure bullying! And that is how I came up with the idea for my children’s book “Leona, My New School” about a little girl who is bullied by her classmates.
Image taken from “Leona” written by me and illustrated by Tijana Djapovic (All rights reserved, 2017)
And, unlike me at the time, it only takes Leona one year to change schools and find happiness, rather than bearing metaphorical punches and literal humiliations on a daily basis for seven years. This children’s book is meant to spark conversations with five- to eight-year-olds about bullying, and it especially aims to reassure bullied kids that what they are experiencing is not their fault. The goal is to encourage them to fight or flee the situation. Either is fine, as long as they stop enduring the pain and save themselves.
There are many other examples in pop culture of kids who were bullied at school and carried this wound into adulthood. The legendary sitcom “Friends” springs to mind, with Monica as the former “fat chick”, still bearing the burden of her former degradations. But in one episode, there was also the character Susie Moss (played by Julia Roberts) who was humiliated by Chandler in high school and gets revenge on him twenty years later. Realising what is happening, he says, incredulously:
Chandler: “That was in fourth grade! How could you still be upset about that?” And having humiliated him back (at long last), she responds: Susie: “Call me in twenty years, and tell me if you’re still upset about this.” – Chandler and Susie in Friends S2E13, 1996
Julia Roberts and Matthew Perry in Friends episode “The One After the Superbowl”, 1996
There was also a notable interview between former US Secretary of Labour, Robert Reich, and Pod Save America host, and former speechwriter for Obama, Jon Lovett, who both recount their experiences of having been bullied at school. After having told his experiences of being held upside down over the toilet by taller boys as early as kindergarten, 79-year-old Reich asks 43-year-old Lovett if he, too, was bullied at school, to which Lovett replies:
“You bet!” – Jon Lovett, Pod Save America
To me, this was such a memorable reply, because it implied that any highly intelligent, slightly shorter than average boy would be bullied at school. These two men are both extremely successful today, and have received a great deal of recognition in their careers, and yet, they cannot speak of their formative years without mentioning being bullied.
Jon Lovett interviews Robert Reich on Pod Save America, 2025
Therefore, I don’t think that Placey’s Scarlett should have said that she would forget the people who bullied her – however much we would wish this to be true. What she could have promised them, though, is that she would outgrow them. And even that she would be happier than any of them. Because, as Elizabeth Bennet says to her sister in Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”:
“I shall never be as happy as you till I have your goodness. I never shall; and, dear Jane, do not believe that every body is as good as you are” – Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”, 1813
And that is something I deeply believe. A person’s happiness can only grow with their kindness: happiness lives in the heart, and a truly big-hearted person cannot be a bully.
No one who is good, kind, and happy needs to harm others. Therefore, bullies and their herd of sheep can never be as happy as a former victim of bullying who has made their peace with their past. This means that the formerly bullied individual must have risen above the pain, and seen these bullies for who they are: mere mortals who know not what they do. For if they did, they could not live with themselves. We all know that there are innumerable bullies who are former victims of bullying. But none of them have made their peace with their past – and themselves – or they would not have to inflict on others what they themselves suffered.
This election poster reads “YOU are the majority” (Photo montage by René Maltête, 1987)
What is so hard about making your peace with having been bullied, is that it forces two very hard realisations. The first is that you were powerless in that situation, which is probably one of the hardest states to find yourself in as a human being: impotence. The second is that you were othered, pushed to the margins, which is also one of the most vulnerable positions to be in. And yet, it is possible to come back from both states. It is possible to see yourself as a worthy person again, and perhaps even embrace your estrangement from others.
Once you do, you start to see being “strange” as a strength. You can acknowledge the comfort members of a herd must feel, while rejoicing in not being one of them, but rather an individual who stands out in a crowd. So the very aspect of you that made you a target becomes your vessel to a different mindset and unique creations – freeing you from the shackles of your former state of impotence and humiliation.
“Raise Your Glass” by P!nk, 2010
This reminds me of P!nk‘s song “Raise Your Glass”:
“So raise your glass if you are wrong In all the right ways All my underdogs We will never be never be, anything but loud” – P!nk “Raise Your Glass”, 2010
Iraqi-American anthropologist and journalist, Louis Yako, spoke about the importance of strangers in these words:
“(We are taught) to avoid strangers, yet life teaches us that human awareness can only be born of the dagger of strangeness… that life is tasteless without mingling with strangers… that familiarity is opposed to life! Thus I loudly declare: A stranger I was born, a stranger I wish to remain! And I ask that you issue my death certificate the day I become familiar.” – Louis Yako’s “Cancer Everywhere”, 2025
And although it took me a decade after leaving that school to start embracing my “strangeness”, I finally did. So much so, that I was able to go back and face my past demons, look them in the eye, and realise that they still could not admit to who they once were, even when confronted with the truth as adults. They are not monsters, and most of them have gone on to lead pleasant lives. But they have not had to question themselves or their behaviour the way I did. They never had to leave the flock, explore broader horizons, or reach new heights. Which tells me that my experience did bring me further – not just than where I once was, but also than them. And it’s no thanks to them, but rather to my own otherness.
(Title quote taken from “Cancer Everywhere” by Louis Yako, 2025)
One year giving way to another is an obvious time to look back and reflect on what the past twelve months have brought us – both good and bad. As media and people around me are quick to point out, this year has seen a lot of bad, a lot of pain, suffering, and frightening escalation in international conflicts and various inequalities. Much of this is tied to the Large Orange Elephant in the Room. And it has been our great misfortune to realise the endless scale of this “room” he’s omnipresent in. One could say the whole world is his “playroom”. There are many reasons to speak about the disastrous, tragic, and appalling consequences of this mindless and despicable President’s actions. Democratic adviser Philippe Reines said:
And yet, precisely because the world feels so fragile, I want to begin the year on a different note. Thus, I have chosen this optimistic title quote, attributed to George Eliot, that I find fits my personal experience of the past year. Adelaide Anne Procter phrased it differently, and perhaps more poetically in her Legend of Provence:
“No star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.” – Adelaide Anne Procter
Both quotes speak to me because 2025 has been a year of reconnecting with who I essentially am, and of unexpected encounters and achievements for me – ones that I didn’t even dare to hope for anymore.
This thought, that I may now (again) be coming into my own, takes me back to my blog post of February 2019I should have been a great many things, Mr Mayer(quoting Louisa May Alcott). At the time, I was reflecting on all the paths I could have chosen, but didn’t – all the selves I could have been, but wasn’t. I was deeply immersed in a feeling of missed opportunities and nostalgia for what might have been. What made me think of this is that I am now in the exact opposite situation. I feel that I am where I need to be. Or, in the words of someone I hold in high esteem:
“I feel more fully (and better) inhabited.” – Personal Source
This has happened like everything else in life does: as a chain reaction. One that I am trying to unravel. In creative writing, an often-used technique to decide what happens between the beginning and the end of a story is to start from the end and work your way backwards. This works because – in fiction and reality alike – each event that happens is the result of something prior, even unbeknownst to the characters, or to you. To trace back my present fortunes to their points of origin, I sat on a sunny terrace, overlooking the city I have grown to love, sipping a glass of wine while writing in my little notebook. It was somewhat like 19th Century author Hannah Crafts‘s texts, where idiosyncratic dashes seemed to be “sewing” her story together.
I was assembling pieces of my recent history, like pieces of a quilt. This task revealed one clear message: Whatever happens to us, we must learn, move forward, and love. Always.
“The best remedy for the mind’s turbulence is to learn. It is the one thing that never fails. You may grow old and tremble, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder in your veins, you may lose your one love and you may lose your money to a monster; you may watch the world around you laid waste by dangerous madmen, or know that your honour is being trampled in the sewers of the vilest minds — there is only one thing to do in such conditions: learn.” – Marguerite Yourcenar “Sources II”
Learning may not guarantee success, nor can it necessarily prevent future pain or failure, but it does ensure constant evolution, which is key to living a full life. And even when you think there is nothing to be learned, one lesson that is always valid is this famous idea from ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus:
“Change is the only constant in life.” – Heraclitus (paraphrased)
As long as you exist, think, and feel, you plant seeds. Every day. Some will grow, others won’t. But what I have seen is that, of all these seeds I planted over the last few years, some ended up growing in the most unexpected and wondrous ways.
Learning also means getting up again after each fall – regardless of the time it takes you. Because life will knock you down in countless ways. Still, just as people continue to breathe when they have little to live for, we must get up after each fall, if for no other reason than to satisfy our curiosity about what will come next.
Whilst trying to pinpoint one specific decision that led me to where I am today, I found that it had been the act of turning my back on jobs I was doing for acknowledgement, a fancy title, or a good paycheque. Bearing abusive behaviours by an erratic boss, or being surrounded by people I had little to do with, just made my reorientation easier. Since going back to writing creatively, sharing my work, attending workshops, meeting other creators, I have seen a gradual change in me. The light inside me seems to have come back. I have given a voice to parts of me that had been dormant for too long.
And thus, bit by bit, the bricks I once used to build walls – shielding me from the world – are now helping me build a new path ahead – reminiscent of the classic musical The Wizard of Oz.
“Follow the yellow brick road!” – The Munchkins in Victor Fleming’s “The Wizard of Oz”
Nonetheless, my road has been uneven, and it has not always been easy remaining positive. As I often tell my daughter, it’s easier – and sometimes justified – to be negative and defeatist, or blame others for one’s misfortunes. Trying to find the right path, applying for jobs in my forties, balancing getting back into shape with being a mom and a breadwinner, trying to be open to new relationships and connections, accepting the things I can’t change – including my many imperfections – none of it has been easy! Had I not fought to stay positive, I might have collapsed under the weight of my own unmet expectations.
And just like Dorothy, I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today if I had travelled this road alone. Learning from past mistakes, I steered clear of people who might see my guilelessness and enthusiasm as naivety or weakness. I most definitely chose my travelling companions wisely.
At long last, I started writing for myself, and not for an unknown audience or for some sort of recognition. I began communicating consciously, rather than just expressing myself. And I’ve been keeping my expectations in check. Not my hopes – just my expectations.
I have, in the process, found a true calling that I didn’t know I had, teaching curious and passionate young minds about the power of art and culture. I’m opening up to feelings I’d tucked away behind those invisible walls. For the first time in my life, words have poured out of me like ink, and they materialised as a play, just as Elizabeth Gilbert describes in Big Magic (see TED Talk, below).
“Creative living is a path for the brave. (…) If I want creativity in my life – and I do – I will have to make space for fear, too. (…) I am who I am today, precisely because of what I have made and what it has made me into.“ – Elizabeth Gilbert “Big Magic”
Just like that, 110 pages worth of words traversed me, and came out of my fingertips. And when the opportunity arose to have it read by professional actors, I seized it – even though the play wasn’t ready. Because Why not?! What did I have to lose? Never before would I have dared to share an early draft with people who could tell it wasn’t fully baked. This exercise was very uncomfortable, but it propelled me forward by months. And this year, I took every chance I got to have my work published and read, even though I know authors who might have written those texts far better than I could.
Likewise, when I started teaching my course to students, I compared myself with my co-professor, whose experience far surpasses mine, and whose smooth style differs from mine in many ways. And then I stopped comparing us. Because all that I may learn from him can be learned without comparing us.
As simplistic as it may sound: I am me. And a big part of how I got here has been based on learning without comparing myself to others, choosing whom to trust, accepting who I am, and going towards risks that I have deemed worth taking. Today, I am at home within myself and in my life. Surely enough, further changes will come about – both good and bad. Because such is life. And that is why I am making sure I enjoy all the good things I sometimes doubted I would have (again).
My final note here is inspired by my youthful days, working on the stage musical Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’. The main character, Pink, spends the entire story building emotional walls to protect himself – from trauma, loss, fame, and isolation. Then, at the end, he reaches a breaking point, his psychological defences fail, and he is finally exposed. The Wall is destroyed, and all who were trying to help Pink all along – whom he could only see through the filter of his giant wall of fear and mistrust – can be seen for who they are. And he can finally be who he is. The lesson being that only baring yourself guarantees the possibility of connection and growth. And that is one that speaks to me.
(The Judge:) “Since my friend you have revealed your deepest fear I sentence you to be exposed before your peers. Tear down the wall, tear down the wall, tear down the wall!”
(The wall collapses. Pink is exposed.) (Narrator:)
“All alone or in twos The ones who really love you Walk up and down outside the wall Some hand-in-hand And some gathered together in bands The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand And when they’ve given you their all Some stagger and fall, after all it’s not easy Banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall” – Pink Floyd (Roger Waters), “The Wall”
It may be harder to live without those big sheltering walls around you, but I have found it more rewarding and real. The world would certainly be much more peaceful if the people in charge of it dared to live with their fears. But since I can’t change them, I’m glad I’ve managed to change myself at least.
Last night, I reflected upon an email I sent to the Master’s Course Director, who gave me an exciting new opportunity to teach a course on “Art and Culture for Change”, thanking her. Why this impulse, this need to share my joy of the moment or to express my gratitude toward her? While it’s in my nature to share my joys and sorrows, I’ve also made a habit of telling people the good I think of them. Because I don’t think we do it enough.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
There is, of course, that tendency to shower each other with: “I appreciate you, I value you, I see you.” But it often sounds like copy-pasting. It’s “ready-to-speak,” mass language.
In that same vein of ready-made phrases, there’s the famous “practice gratitude!” which irritated me until recently. This injunction rings false when you’re not doing well, and it annoyed me more than anything when nothing I undertook seemed to work. The bad people around me seemed to be succeeding, while I was struggling without seeing any result from my tenacity. Yet, I was supposed to “be grateful!” For what, exactly?
In Croatian, we say that as long as everything is going well, you have a thousand worries, whereas when something serious happens to you, you only have one. So, we should remember that we are lucky to have a thousand worries. And that is true. But…
But where I had neither the desire nor the capacity to be truly grateful while I was tirelessly fighting, now, my “thank yous” are generously—and also conscientiously—distributed. Why?
Because, without everything being exactly as I would like, a multitude of buds are now blooming. This follows two years of incessant sowing that often seemed futile. Because, after facing malicious or disrespectful people, the benevolent individuals shine in contrast. And I feel the need to let them know. Also knowing that “the kind ones” are often no strangers to slaps and setbacks. They, therefore, truly need to hear that they are appreciated, valued, seen.
And so, without having repeated any mantra like “Be grateful!”, it turns out that I am. Not because a self-help book prescribed it to me, but because it became obvious.
There is no moral to this story, except that there is no universal recipe, nor are the consequences always predictable. And while it is necessary to remain active to ensure some form of evolution, forcing things does not always bring the desired results. But we must move forward, because something new will eventually arise. Always.
As French reggae singer Tonton David once sang: “Chacun sa route, chacun son chemin.” (“Everyone their own road, everyone their own path”.)
(Title quote taken from “Winnie-the-Pooh” by A. A. Milne)
As one year has drawn to a close and another begins, I am looking back on my overall experience of the past twelve months, while contemplating what the coming year might bring.
4 works of art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
In this time of transition, mainly what I see and feel around me is a general wariness. Some believe it is related to our growing anxiety linked with the ongoing wars that affect us, either directly or indirectly. Others feel that it is tied to the escalating dehumanisation of our society, in correlation with the fast expansion of AI and our post-COVID isolation (see my post about mental health issues and fear). The obvious impact of ever-rising prices on a shrinking middle class is certainly also part of the equation. However, even if we cannot necessarily influence these global issues, what we can do is change certain aspects of our lives.
Thus, in the spirit of Anne Shirley in the children’s classic “Anne of Green Gables”, I want to step into the new year thinking:
“Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
This last year has decidedly taught me that it is never too late to change course. I have recently come to yet another fork in my road, where I need to choose between two paths, both of which offer advantages and disadvantages. In simpler terms, one provides creative freedom at the cost of financial stability, while the other offers the opposite.
With this in mind, I remembered Polonius’ popular words to Laertes, in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”:
“This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
But what does it mean to be true to yourself? There are many aspects to each personality and sides to the prism of who you are. So, which “Self” are you meant to be true to?
Excerpt from the teen comedy “Clueless” (1995), showing how present this Hamlet quote is in popular culture
Both paths stretching out before me are in line with equally valid sides of my Self. One is my rational and reasonable “left-brained” side. It listens to my need to provide my child and myself with a stable existence, which is by no means to be undervalued. By doing jobs that I had some interest in, but no passion for, I have been able to pay the rent and spend quality time with my daughter. And then, there is the “right-brained” path, which is aligned with my irrevocably creative nature. Despite all my past efforts to function without it, my creativity has proven to be a resilient creature which will not be silenced. But unlike in Hollywood films, the path of passion never miraculously provided financial stability just because I dared to quit a paying job to follow my dream.
Top 10 Movies That Make You Want to Quit Your Job
This duality within me has repeatedly swung me back and forth between jobs for money and jobs for the soul. And now, this pendulum has swung again towards my creativity. Although creativity is often mentioned in the corporate world, in my experience it is seldom seen as a desirable quality in employees. It is, after all, somewhat of an untamed beast, in direct opposition to the culture that has shaped the West and been enforced by colonisers – past and present. Creativity does not care about hierarchy or the establishment.
And as of recently, the “creative beast” which had restlessly been awaiting her time to be set free once more, has resurfaced in my life. Suddenly, doors that had been closed are opening onto new horizons. And just like that, a short story I wrote with no expectations, based on the lives of both my grandmothers, was published (order “A Story of Two Europes” here). I was then selected to participate in a programme for writers-directors with budding projects, organised by mediarte. During those few days of open and honest interaction with a dozen young filmmakers, I found that I was among “my tribe” again. We were not there to earn money nor promote ourselves, but to learn how to best feed and nurture the projects we so care about.
During this programme, one of the trainers emphasised the importance of living by our values and seeking joy in our daily work. The term “joy” stood out for us all. Perhaps it is because in our society, we are so focused on being happy that we forget about joy. And while happiness is vague and vast, joy is an identifiable emotion that can be ignited in many situations. Moreover, the pursuit of happiness can be weighed down by expectations about it. We all know people who thought they would be happy once they found a partner, got a lucrative job, had a child, only to find that achieving this goal did not live up to their vision. Joy, on the other hand, can readily be found in smaller undertakings and successes. As French philosopher Frédéric Lenoir writes:
“More intense and deeper than pleasure, more concrete than happiness, joy is the manifestation of our vital power.”
I have often been in situations where I traded in joy for a paycheque, and have found that this inevitably creates a crater in the soul. It leads to needing psychological crutches to support you, such as buying material goods, turning to that “wine o’clock” big glass of Chardonnay, eating more than you should, just to make up for what you are denying yourself. After all, everything comes at a price.
Lately, another experience challenged my perception of the choices I’ve made, and the ones I want to make going forward. My childhood hero, the beautiful and exceptionally talented Petro Ivanovitch, passed away. This celebrated Romani(Gypsy) musician and singer was a dear friend of my family and played a significant role in my grown-up life. Our regular visits to his family’s chic Paris restaurant “Les Tziganes Ivanovitch” – always filled with the crème de la crème of Romani performers and celebrities – later led me to write and direct the musical play “Romano Drom” about the Roma people’s history and to create the Romani culture festival “Romani Yag”.
“Les Tziganes Ivanovitch”: Petro (centre) with his beloved brother Slobodan, who died in 1985 (right), and Andrei Chestopaloff (left).
Petro’s passing made me look back on my eight years of passionate and committed work to shine a light on the diverse abundance of Romani culture worldwide. Despite numerous hurdles and tests, I had managed to gain some notoriety for the work I was doing internationally to bring together Romani arts, culture, activism, and information, in order to challenge the old narratives about “Gypsies”. But over time, continuous attacks by opponents to my festival or to me tainted my enthusiasm and wore me down. Just like in the fable about The Little Red Hen, I’ve heard many stories from individuals who worked hard towards a laudable goal, all the while having to fend off envious and frustrated antagonists who only saw the results and glory, and not all the hard work that had made it possible.
At this point though, even if I often regretted having left my path with Romani Yag behind, I have become kinder to myself, and now see regret as:
“a fundamental part of how [we] learn to reason and make decisions (…) Our cognitive apparatus is designed at least in part to sustain us in the long term, rather than bomb us in the near term. We need the ability to regret our poor decisions (…) precisely so we can improve those decisions in the future.”
What I have learned from this is never again to quit a path I believe in because of external pressures. And I will try not to walk this path alone. As you age, what you lose in availability and energy, you need to make up for by surrounding yourself with the right people. A middle-aged filmmaker I know recently hit the nail on the head when he said that, while you are young, energetic, and free to dedicate all your energy to just one venture, you can fight your battles alone. But as time passes and your duties multiply, it is wise to share the burden of responsibility with trusted collaborators, partners, family, friends.
Thus, at the dawn of this new year, I will choose a path that is as close to an intersection between my different authentic selves – the elusive “Ikigai“. And I encourage others to do the same if they do not experience a healthy daily dose of joy in their lives. If we can, we should strive to live in line with our core values and our intrinsic nature, despite anyone who might try to format us. For me, this entails birthing my creative projects that had been sitting on a shelf for years, untouched but never forgotten.
From my mid-teens to my mid-twenties, I was an unconditional Pearl Jam fan. I had all their albums, went to their concerts, knew the lyrics to all their songs by heart, and Eddie Vedder’s poster hung on my student room wall. To this day, I admire their body of work. They were the voice of the Western world’s nineties youth, addressing all the uncomfortable truths of that generation. The chorus of their song “Even Flow“, about a homeless man, begins with:
“Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies He don’t know, so he chases them away.”
I have often remembered this line, as my mind is regularly stormed by thoughts I want to chase away. Lately, I find that in order to stray my mind from unwanted cerebration, I’ve been listening to audio books, podcasts and series to control what populates my brain. This constant influx of content may feed my mind, but at the same time, it tires it and slowly stifles my creativity.
In the Croatian documentary film “Spomenko”, directed by my ex-husband, the exceptional and nonconformist priest, to whom it is dedicated, mentions the importance of solitude in processing all that constitutes our everyday lives.
Full documentary film “Spomenko”* by Bruno Lovrenčić and Dražen Nenadić (Croatian with English subtitles). Passage about the importance of solitude: 5’40”-7’10”.
Our minds need to breathe. They require a break from input in order to create relevant output. And yet, many people cannot handle silence. They go so far as to listen to audio content (whether guided meditations or music) while they sleep. My goal is not to criticise the tools individuals find to cope with whatever is weighing them down. Rather, I wonder if we are not overburdening the brain with never-ending flows of words, thoughts and emotions from the outside in.
Likewise, I am dubious about the overall benefits of brief daily meditations. However helpful, I wonder if they can truly suffice to let the dust of our emotions, encounters, worries and plans settle, which is necessary to try to make sense of it all. As a society, we have been moving faster and faster, and while we are trying to focus on the positive aspects of our existence, we cannot shut out the negative, like we do on our social media profiles. We must learn to live with thoughts that may eat at our brains like bugs. Perhaps we should even welcome them, since countless uneasy questions, worries, sadness or anger, have given birth to an invaluable wealth in art and philosophy over centuries.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
The problem now is that, for the first time in history, we have access to an infinite source of distraction and information. This puts us in a position of constant reaction to what we hear and read, as a way to externalise the impact this influx has on us. We are on the receiving end, rather than being the instigators and creators of original thoughts. Whereas welcoming silence and solitude is more challenging in the moment, it brings with it more peace of mind in the long run. And more creativity, too.
As I look out onto the pristine Adriatic Sea, sitting on what was once my grandparents’ terrace, high above the madding crowd, I have made the decision to pause the constant input from my phone. I have taken out the faithful companion that is my notebook and am finally writing again – letting the butterflies back in to fly around my head, come what may. Time to slow down again and just be, and let be. Life is not a long quiet river.
The view from my late grandparents’ house
Life is not – nor can it be – a constant source of joy, excitement and gratitude, even when all is well. It is a complex multitude of layers, experiences and emotions, tainted by fears and insecurities, highlighted by joys and serenity. And it is certainly much easier to be offended, complain or be envious of others, than it is to accept what is. But acceptance is necessary at times. As is said in the Serenity Prayer, made famous through its use in AA groups and subsequently in popular culture:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Acceptance is not resignation. Rather, it is about letting the dust of the daily hustle and bustle settle, letting the fog of injustice, aggression, excitement and euphoria clear up. Only when this happens can we see more clearly, and act rather than react. Swift reaction may well be essential when you are in danger, but it is usually shortsighted and can ultimately misguide you in any other context.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
Quieting the voices in our heads by turning on our phones is in some ways comparable to escaping reality through drugs. And like drugs, the relief from our thoughts and emotions that we get through this content is short-lived. What awaits us at the other end is the same feeling of helplessness or the overwhelmingness of everything. This drives us to continue using our “escape-drug” to remain distracted. Detoxifying your mind by only using your phone when you actually need it may take a few days, but I am noticing the positive effects in me already.
My mind is slowing down, the jumbled puzzle pieces are slowly falling into place, allowing me to breathe and make lucid decisions. As the dust is settling, I can see the green fields with colourful butterflies again. For now, I’m just letting them fly about – until I catch one, when I’m ready.
(Title quote taken from the Pearl Jam song “Even Flow”)
*In memoriam Luka Lovrenčić, cinematographer on “Spomenko” (1978-2015)
Lately, I have found that whichever conversation I have, or whatever I read about, the topics that come up are exactly the ones I have been writing about on this blog. Among them are isolation, screen addiction, absence of community, bullying, powerlessness, desensitisation, lack of nuance, obsession with performance, and this giant corporate monoculture that keeps on spreading. There is also the issue of the “Potemkin village“-like society we live in, where the façade of forced optimism is meant to erase all underlying injustice and imbalance.
Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
What I draw from this is not that I am exceptionally perceptive, but rather that we are all suffering of similar aches. Some are just better than others at concealing it. Generally speaking, our mental health is damaged. In many cases, this even affects our physical health.
Some argue that having mental health issues is a luxury reserved to the wealthy. Others, in turn, consider that only the weak will be afflicted with mental health issues. But I would beg to differ with both these views. These kinds of simplistic statements remind me of one I recently heard from an elderly woman I know: she said that in her childhood, bullying did not exist among kids. Of course, one just needs to read the classics, like Jane Eyre, to know that this is not true. But what this woman’s view reveals is that bullying was not considered or treated as a concern back then. And the same can be said for mental health issues, which were not recognised until fairly recently.
A century ago, and all the centuries before that, most of the population constituted the working class, working fourteen-hour days. They certainly had mental health issues, but the option to diagnose and treat them did not exist. Still, they managed to function, but at what cost?
Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
As mentioned in a previous post, our mental health has been affected by our gradual isolation, exacerbated by the lockdown and the resulting post-COVID social patterns. These include working from home, having food delivered rather than eating out, ordering everything instead of going to shops. Likewise, the digitalisation of every service we use has led to increased screen time, and while we all know that spending too much time watching a screen is detrimental to our mental health (as is clearly explained in this article in Time Magazine), it is very difficult to escape this trend.
Moreover, in our navel-gazing culture, our obsession with ourselves removes us from a journey towards balance. Instead, it forces us to turn inwards and dissect every part of our own behaviour and emotions, thereby further isolating us. It is a rabbit hole from which it can be challenging to resurface.
Understanding and categorising our emotions is certainly important. As we have seen, individuals who are disconnected from their emotions are likely to misidentify sadness or fear as anger. This can easily lead to outward violent behaviour or to inward eating disorders, to compensate for feelings of powerlessness, loneliness or frustration. This is why, early on in my child’s life, I started reading books to help her identify her emotions, such as the excellent “The Color Monster” by Ana Llenas.
Ana Llenas’ “The Color Monster”, read by Joshua Brooks
But identifying and labelling your emotions is only the first step. Once that is done, you still need to process them, and act or react. Physical activity is recommended, as it helps channel (self) destructive energy. And yet, I don’t believe that this is enough. Nor is listening to 5 minutes of daily affirmations on Headspace or similar apps. These habits do help, but there is no quick fix for deeper-rooted problems and a dysfunctional structure.
In my post about victimisation, I mentioned the key element of fear, as a tool of manipulation. Employers, media, heads of state knows this well, and make use of it on a daily basis to steer us in the intended direction. They have planted seeds of fear in us and have continuously nourished them, thereby slowly reducing the spectrum of our freedom and power. I don’t believe that any amount of running or meditation can resolve this issue. So I have started digging into the notion of fear.
“What does it mean to be comfortably afraid? For me, the idea is simple. It’s about learning to deal wisely with fear, finding a way to let your nerves guide you rather than stop you. It’s settling yourself in the presence of life’s inevitable zombies and monsters so that you may contend with them more rationally, and trusting your own assessment of what’s harmful and what’s not. When you live this way, you are neither fully comfortable nor fully afraid. You accept that there’s a middle zone and learn to operate inside of it, awake and aware, but not held back.”
“The Light We Carry” by Michelle Obama (2022)
Michelle Obama talks about fear, and howit narrows your perspectives, as well as isolating you from others
Fear is often seen as something we need to either overcome or avoid. We are seldom taught to live with fear and accept it as an integral part of our life experience. When we are young, we are much more inclined to challenge our fears and ourselves. But as time goes by, as we build a life for ourselves and our family, we seek security. And human security is founded on freedom from fear.
The UNDP’s Human Development Report stresses that “there have always been two major components of human security: freedom from fear and freedom from want.” These ‘two freedoms’ are often considered the ‘twin pillars’ of human security.
As security sounds comforting, we accept the ever narrower range of action that is offered to us, as long as we are promised the removal of what we have been told to fear. Each planted fear closes a door for us. Michelle Obama also mentions a parent’s fear for their child, which I understand deeply. My fear for myself was never as great as that for my child’s safety and wellbeing. As Hanya Yanagihara writes:
[The love for one’s own child] “is a singular love, because it is a love whose foundation is not physical attraction, or pleasure, or intellect, but fear. You have never known fear until you have a child, and maybe that is what tricks us into thinking that it is more magnificent, because the fear itself is more magnificent. Every day, your first thought is not “I Love him” but “How is he?””
“A Little Life” by Hanya Yanagihara (2015)
But even this fear is one that we must all learn to live with if we want our kids to grow wings.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
Today, so many people live in comfortable situations, that they are inclined to sacrifice their intangible wealth (such as freedom of thought or community) in order to keep their material one. The more they have, the less they dare. It is no coincidence that the people who built the American Dream had little or nothing to lose. Today, I do not believe that we can reach the same heights because we have too much to lose.
This is not to suggest that we should suffer and endure poverty as our ancestors did, just so we can build a new worthwhile dream. Rather, I wonder if the path back to mental health could be one where we accept fear as our daily companion. Perhaps master manipulators might then lose some of their hold on us, and we might venture to seek untrodden paths.
Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
This could begin with small steps, such as sharing knowledge and ideas, without being obsessed with patents and trademarks. For me, that step was simply writing this blog. Through “Midlife Reflection“, I began sharing my emotions and failures publicly, writing words to replace the tears I was shedding – just as in this post’s title quote by Paulo Coelho.
If you can find the source of your tears, I believe you can find a way to turn them into words or actions that, in turn, might help others. And this could be your path towards mental health, balance and “comfortable fearfulness”.
I recently watched the first season of “The Diplomat“, which I thoroughly enjoyed. In it, one line caught my attention: David Gyasi‘s character, Austin Dennison, says to Keri Russell‘s Kate Wyler: “Perhaps you’re just a decent person in a time when decency has lost its hold on the public imagination.” I completely agree with this statement. This is not to say that people are less decent or kind than before. It’s rather that decency is generally no longer valued or exemplified the way it used to be.
Although quotes about kindness have become popular, it is not encouraged in practice. We would like to believe that being kind is better than being successful, but we know that in our society, success is more important. Perhaps it is so because, contrary to kindness, success is measurable. Thus, kindness is rarely valued, and it is mostly perceived as naivety or weakness.
Works by Tijana Djapovic (c)
Morality and etiquette, too, are outdated, as they are associated with a formerly oppressive and rigid system. But it seems the pendulum has, once again, swung too far in the opposite direction, and we have thrown the baby out with the bathwater. In our struggles against an overly hierarchical and stifled society, in favour of an equally exaggeratedly individualist one (as I mentioned in my previous post on current individualism), we have exchanged what was beneficial in our old codes of conduct for personal freedom and success as absolute priorities. Helping others requires energy and time that, according to today’s set of values, you should be spending bettering yourself or being kind to yourself.
In the corporate world, this is particularly noticeable. Regardless of the principles preached in giant tech and entertainment companies, where “brilliant jerks” are supposedly not welcome, the reality is that the said jerks and toxic managers are celebrated, as long as they bring measurable results and exceed KPIs. In this new world, employees are encouraged to act as though they care, but without actually getting involved. The unwritten rule is that your colleagues are supposed to ask you how you’re doing, and you’re expected to reply: “Great! Amazing! Awesome!” But no one is meant to be sincere, or to truly listen. What I have seen is that in the corporate sphere, helping people in need is done by donating money to a charity, and then patting yourself on the back for being such a decent human being. That way, you don’t have to get your hands dirty, and whatever you give is tax-deductible.
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
All of this differs greatly from the decency that was once taught, albeit as part of a broader set of restrictive rules. The forced “respect for elders”, which I am against as an absolute principle, did however ensure that young people helped the elderly who needed it. The fear of God, however constrictive, did come with rules that demanded charitable actions. I find there is a lack of nuance, which prevents us from perpetuating what was best in our old sets of rules, and combining it with our recently found freedoms. It seems everything has to be one or the other, black or white, good or bad. Perhaps the digitalisation of our planet, built on binary coding, is pushing us to view everything through a binary lens.
When Simon Sinek talked about performance versus trust, he clearly explained why companies should rather seek trustworthy employees, rather than simply high-performing ones. As he says:
“What we end up doing is promoting or bonusing toxicity in our business.”
Simon Sinek (“Trust vs performance)
This is because valuing numbers over human qualities is deeply ingrained in the corporate identity. While our colleagues may give us mugs with inspiring phrases about kindness and empathy, we are taught to avoid what requires energy if there is no guaranteed selfish profit. And though none of this is new, what shocks me today is the massive gap between what we say and what we do. Or rather what we are told and what is expected of us. Indeed, what is shown in ads or company culture is consistently at the opposite of what is actually being rewarded in these environments.
We speak and hear of authenticity, of empathy, of thinking outside the box. And yet, even though companies are now much more tolerant regarding employees’ appearance, if one looks past the diverse hairstyles, tattoos, piercings or other – all of which should express actual individuality (not individualism) – what remains are people who are formatted, similarly to past generations. They have just replaced one set of goals for another, and decency or kindness are not among them.
When I think of these values, I remember an eye-opening awareness campaign on Quebecois television about homelessness. In this ad, a young man was addressing the viewer, saying: “I’m a magician. Watch me, and you will see how I make myself invisible!” Meanwhile, the camera was zooming out, revealing him as homeless. He was greeting the passersby and they were all ignoring him. To me, being decent goes beyond simple propriety. It means having moral standards, having a sense of responsibility towards others. This includes homeless people whom, at the very least, we can establish eye contact with, because this is the most basic and simple way to acknowledge another’s existence. It requires a moment of attention and it means seeing something that we don’t always want to see. But it is one of many tiny, yet significant, steps we can take towards decency and kindness.
What we are posting is not necessarily what we truly aspire to… (Image by Yuriz on Canva)
Thankfully, in our own communities of friends and family, we can choose whom to be around, based on shared fundamental values. As individuals, we are usually drawn either to success and wealth, or to kindness and respect. The first is exclusive, while the second is inclusive. Over the decades, I have always chosen the latter.
Some years ago, a friend of mine repeated a quote she had read:
“When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.”
Despite having always been drawn to artists and brilliant minds myself, not all of whom showed exemplary values or conduct, I have found that Rabbi Heschel‘s quote has become true for me over the years. I am still impressed by great minds and moved by dazzling artists, just as others are drawn to power, money and success. But success, intellect and talent alike, tell us nothing about a person’s kindness, humanity or generosity. In my forties, I find that I am first and foremost drawn to, and admirative of, people who practice kindness, show respect, demonstrate decency. Having such people around you is indeed a wealth that money cannot buy – even if their values are outdated in today’s public imagination.
(Title: taken from S01:E8 of “The Diplomat”, created by Debora Cahn)
This is a translated line from the 1975 French song “A witch like the others” (“Une sorcière comme les autres”). When I first heard this song, it was this beautiful and deeply sensitive interpretation by wonderful singer, actor and playwright Nathalie Doummar, whom I was lucky enough to know and direct in my debut play “Romano Drom“, and by the equally moving Laëtitia Isambert.
“Une sorcière comme les autres” (written by Anne Sylvestre, sung by Nathalie Doummar and Laëtitia Isambert)
Many things have changed for women since these lyrics were written (you will find them at the end of this text), but a lot of what Anne Sylvestre wrote still applies. Women are still judged, judging themselves and each other, based on archetypes, on what has been projected onto them over centuries.
After watching the brilliant Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie‘s Ted Talk, I recently read her essay “We should all be feminists“, which presented a view of feminism that I am in complete accordance with. In it, she writes:
“I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be.”
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie “We should all be feminists” (4th Estate, 2014)
But when I look around me, I am rather disappointed with what is passed off as feminism or asserting your femininity today. Contrary to Ngozi Adichie, who exudes strength, intelligence, wit and femininity, many of the successful women I see are rather like Sheryl Sandberg than Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche’s TED Talk on why we should all be feminists
When Sheryl Sandberg‘s “Lean in“ came out, it spoke to me, probably because I come from a generation and a continent where we, as women, were still mostly taught that expressing yourself with vigour was incompatible with being feminine. So, being encouraged to “lean in”, speak up and be heard was something I much needed to hear. (You can see her Ted Talk here.) But Sandberg’s message was presenting one type of successful female leadership that I could not recognise myself in. It was somewhat in line with what I had seen in my peers at university in England, back in the days of the Spice Girls. Back then, English female students were often called “ladettes“, and many took pride in this. They saw this as a positive step up from our mothers’ generation, which had had to fight for the right to be heard. The so-called “ladettes” felt that mimicking what I saw as the worst traditionally masculine traits, while wearing short skirts and high heels, was a sign of assertive femininity.
I see Sheryl Sandberg’s model of womanhood as a continuation of this trend. And nowadays I see many more Sheryls than Chimamandas at higher levels of the corporate ladder. When we hear the wishfully empowering, albeit solely self-serving, “You can have it all,” I always wonder at whose expense. Where the Women’s Lib movement dreamed of female solidarity, of women helping each other, this is still quite rare. Especially on the way up the ladder. Like many groups that have been victimised and undervalued, rather than helping each other up, many women push each other down as they try to gain their spot among the gods on Mount Olympus.
Bill Burr makes this point about women competing against each other and seeking men’s approval in this clip, taken from his show “Bill Burr Live at Red Rocks”
Whether in the personal or the professional sphere, women have a tendency to behave as if there were a limited number of seats for us at the VIP table. This would explain why they continue to scratch each other’s eyes out, rather than unite. And in situations where both a man and a woman are responsible for some form of misbehaviour, if another woman is asked to point the finger, she will likely do so at the woman, rather than the man. I don’t know if this comes from a deep-seated lingering fear of men or from simple force of habit, attacking the perceived weakest opponent. Either way, when a husband cheats, his wife usually goes after the other woman. Likewise, when a man and a woman make mistakes at work, female bosses tend to be harder on their own sex.
My personal experience has been that my male bosses rarely felt threatened by me. Perhaps this was due to the implicit assumption that they were superior – but perhaps not. On the other hand, almost all my female bosses (fortunately with a few notable exceptions!) wanted me to be submissive, and felt threatened as soon as they saw any potential for growth in me, even though I had no wish to take their place. And through various discussions with friends, but also through films we see, I know that I am not an isolated case. After the fairy tales of my childhood (filled with evil stepmothers feeling threatened by their stepdaughters) the first time I saw this dynamic between women portrayed in a movie was in the 1980s “Working Girl“. As I’ve done my fair share of gigs as an assistant over the years, I often remembered this film and realised how little removed it was from the truth.
“Working Girl” trailer (1988)
Contrary to 50 years ago, when a woman speaks her mind outside of extremely conservative circles, it is often women, not men, who comment negatively on her. And this happens as soon as girls hit puberty and start looking like women. Almost overnight, they are perceived as competitors and threats by other women.
And yet, most of my friends are women – but none of them behave like this towards other women. They are as diverse as can be, in terms of personality, appearance or culture. But they all have this in common: they are supportive of each other. They are not against men, nor are they against other women. Most of them are devoted mothers, they care about their work, those who have partners love them. And none of them treat each other as rivals. None rejoices in the others’ misfortunes. I’ve identified the common trait that allows them to be different from the women I described above, and that is actual emotional strength, coupled with strength of character. They are deeply strong women.
Segment of Tijana Djapovic’s painting “Unfinished stories” (c) Tijana Djapovic
As strong, empathetic, sensitive women, they do not need to prove their strength by using force, intimidation or manipulation. They do not need to crush others to empower themselves. I have noticed that the only times I’ve been jealous or envious of others has been when I felt weak, unhappy or dissatisfied with myself. So, it turns out that the type of women we often see portrayed in movies as successful, are actually weak. The stereotype of a thriving woman is only after a prestigious job and a diamond ring. She is all about winning, and betrays anyone on her path to reach her goal.
Again, I return to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. In her, I see a new model of women who are strong and charismatic, while being empathetic and supportive. Women who love women without hating men, and who love men without fearing women. When I see my own daughter playing with her girlfriends, I observe how they comfort each other when they are sad, praise each other selflessly, help each other when they are down. Seeing this, I hope that the rising generation of girls will neither be fearful like mine, nor aggressive like the one that followed. Hopefully, these girls will find a golden middle, where there is room for all women – and for men, too.
(Title: Lyrics from “Une sorcière comme les autres” by Anne Sylvestre, 1975. See translated lyrics below.)
Why settle for “good” when you could have “great”? Why lead a “good enough” life when you could have an “amazing” one? Instead of being “just you”, should you not strive to be “the best you can be”?
Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
Just as the fear of missing out (FOMO) is built on the presumption that something fantastic and unmissable is going on, and you’re missing it, we are often brought to believe that we should lead extraordinary lives. Every day. In this decidedly consumerist culture, we are taught that it is our duty to ourselves to reach our highest potential and squeeze every last drop of this thing called life. And while I was an early fan of motivational quotes way back in my student days, in my forties I find these slogans that are used to inspire often end up having the opposite effect in the long run.
For about a decade now, the number of quotes people wear on their tote bags, shirts, caps, or even on their skin, has exploded. With these taglines, we either want to remind ourselves how great we could be or should feel, or we want to display how we wish others to perceive us. I see the good in this mass self-motivation and daily reminder to be grateful. Sometimes, these little sentences do inspire action or make us dream big. But I also see the hidden devil in them. I’ve seen how company cultures have turned these generic quotes into company mottos. The resulting atmosphere is one of “forced happiness”, where I found smiling masks covering unshed tears of frustration and the unspoken denunciation of injustice. A “dictatorship of happiness” is still a dictatorship, and thus leaves little room for individuality or diversity, despite what is advertised.
(Motivational quotes found on Canva)
“Make the most of every day”, “Believe in yourself, and anything is possible”, “Be all that you can be”* – these are good goals to have, in theory. But life is not theoretical, nor are we robots that can utilise time and each beating of our hearts to make sure we never skip a single beat. In the past, I’ve tried to implement the rules and guidelines shared in some self-improvement books or talks. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes I didn’t. But over time, I found that I was growing tired of them. Endeavouring to constantly be happy, to perform, to be the “best version” of myself at all times felt unnatural.
(The comedic “de-motivational” life coach Self-Help Singh says: “Not every bad day can become a good day.”)
Real life means that, even though I do try to appreciate every moment I share with the people I love, sometimes they get on my nerves. And whereas I value financial stability, I sometimes want to be unreasonable and enjoy the present moment with a bottle of champagne or an impromptu weekend in London. Sometimes, life is just life. Sometimes, putting some projects back on the shelf doesn’t mean you’ve given up on all your dreams. And even when you want to appreciate life completely, you will have off days. As a friend of mine, who lived through the war in Bosnia, once told me: even when you’ve stepped over dead bodies and thought you’d never have a normal life again, when you finally do, you still get upset about something as frivolous as a girl you like not calling you back.
We are only human. And that’s OK. We are allowed to be tired, upset, sad or any of those emotions deemed “negative”. And we must also allow ourselves to want to just curl up under a blanket and watch movies. Which is why, where there once was a calendar with motivational quotes on my wall, there is now a calendar by the brilliant and hilarious Rosie Made A Thing, who celebrates the absurdity of modern life.
Another woman who has addressed the beautiful and terrible absurdity of life is Kate Bowler. I came across her Ted Talk on how battling stage 4 cancer impacted her belief system. Her talk stood out because there was no big inspirational quote at the end of it, no universal lesson about living life to the fullest. So I bought her book “Good enough, 40ish devotionals for a life of imperfection“. In it, she covers an incredibly broad spectrum of situations in our everyday lives that cannot be solved with a single sentence. She talks about mourning our future selves (the ones we dreamed we’d become, but didn’t), about doing things for no reason whatsoever (because not everything has to be productive to be worthwhile), and much more. Her wisdom and the non-judgmental way in which she embraces the diverse nature of humanity is both comforting and inspiring.
Kate Bowler’s Ted Talk “‘Everything happens for a reason’ – and other lies I’ve loved”
Bowler talks about the hyper-instrumentalisation prevalent in our cultures, in which everything has to have a purpose. Laughing in the face of life’s absurdity is also about acceptance. Accepting that there is no guaranteed reward for good deeds, nor is there necessarily everlasting happiness if you “just love yourself enough”. As time goes by, what I see in the self-help industry’s constant production of the new “Secret” is a search for simple answers to complex questions. We want to take shortcuts to reach our goals. But happiness is not a destination you can reach and settle into. Life is unpredictable. Manifesting your dream life, dream job, dream partner, child or planet will not necessarily make them real. Therefore, some of your efforts or focus not paying off are not signs of your shortcomings. They are signs of life being just what it is.
The greatest quality I see in the personal growth, positive-thinking trend is that it allowed us to take back some of the power we had reserved for God or fate. Whether or not there is a God, humans should hold some of the power and responsibility for their own wellbeing. However, like the superlatives flooding the American (English) language today, having replaced “good enough” with “totally amazing”, the former ambition of having SOME power is now the belief that we can have ALL of it. This excludes the many factors in life that are wholly beyond our control.
The slogan on the supermarket bag reads “Act today to have a better life tomorrow”. Photo of a homeless Romani woman taken by Eric Roset (c)
Likewise, the individualisation of our societies implies that all problems should be solved by the individual. And this means that we alone are at fault if we are not sublimely happy or incredibly successful. While the concept of “self-help” was born out of workers unions’ efforts to empower the workers (as is explained in the video posted below), it is doing the exact opposite today. It is taking societal problems (wage gaps, systemic racism, gender inequalities, mass pollution) and convincing us that we should fix these at an individual level. After all, if Oprah made it to stardom and wealth, there is no limit to what each of us can do… or is there?
A critical view of the self-help industry and facts about its origins
Hence, as growing numbers of people wear motivational quotes as fashion items, ever fewer take to the streets to protest against social and economic failures of the system we live in. Not just because we have lost faith in the effectiveness of these measures today, but also because we are convinced that we must change what we can by our lonesome. As for the rest, we can share our frustration on social media to combat the feeling of powerlessness in the face of ever-present injustice.
Still, a lot of good can come out of this personal growth trend. As always, it is all a matter of dosage, perspective and expectations. As individuals, where we feel there is a need for improvement, we should indeed try to change what we believe we can – with the knowledge that we will sometimes succeed and sometimes not. On the other hand, in order to identify which of our problems are part if a wider societal problem, we should remain informed of what goes on around us, communicate with others, remain connected beyond social media. In this manner, we will soon find that there are harmful side effects to the system we’ve been living in for decades, which cannot be solved merely at an individual level. We can each do our part to recycle, shop local, fair-trade and organic, do our best to preserve a healthy work-life balance, take care of ourselves and our families. However, all our efforts will not suffice to prevent industrial pollution, the extreme inequalities between the Northern and Southern hemisphere, nor the rapid polarisation of our societies. There, I believe that we must join collective movements that will have a significant political and economic impact. There are thousands of such budding collective initiatives, and some will come to grow and become influential over time.
Works of art by Tijana Djapovic (c)
I do believe that change is coming. It is as slow as it has always been, but it is coming. I also see some of my peers questioning the self-help movement and its consequences on mental health and collective action.
A first step in the right direction may be to accept that not everything is as we dreamed it would be, but that it’s not any less worthy. Another might be to start thinking of realistic solutions for our societal problems, and use those supposed “universal laws of attraction” – or perhaps more rationally just our personal network – to build a critical mass towards an improvement of the system we live in. For the benefit of the greatest number this time, not just for our individual selves, nor only for the ones at the top.
* (“Be all that you can be” is also the US Army’s slogan)
Midlife Reflection 