Of all the world's creatures I think we humans must surely be the laziest bunch. Our days are filled with toil, no doubt, but have you ever tried to count how much of this daily grind is actually trying to figure out how to do LESS and still achieve AS MUCH? It is the basic drive of all civilisation and our obsession with it is what sets us apart from the rest of earth's inhabitants.
When it comes to providing for one's needs we seem to have reached our goal - the pinnacle of human brilliance, the ultimate escape from the harsh realities that challenged our species - our modern CITIES. We've moved there in search of a better life, where things come about easier and quicker. “No more toil!” we cried, cheerfully entering this seventh day of our human creation, waiving at our fellow rest seekers sat comfortably behind the shiny glass fronts of high street restaurants, hairdressers, dry-cleaners, or moving slowly through the doors of supermarkets with bagfuls of provision for every possible requirement they could think of this morning.
This is where we relax, we thought. Or is it?
I grew up in a small provincial town north east of Vistula River, Poland. My early childhood memories include taking turns with my siblings queuing at the local grocers. This must have been in the late 80s, before the Iron Curtain fell. Shop shelves were empty most of the week. Then suddenly a neighbour would knock and before we could even open the door they’d already made sure to let us know there was an imminent stock delivery of whatever essential; sugar, salt, toilet paper? (No, do not think of silky white Andrex.) Mother would put a coin or two in your hand and off you went to secure your family’s place in the queue of the week. An hour later your brother came to replace you so you could go and play for a bit, while mother finished last items of sowing for the local work gear manufacturer. Deliveries were sparse and limited in quantities, so people arrived to queue early. Occupying the first few spots in The Queue was of utmost importance. As was being on good terms with ones neighbours.
A more fond memory I have is of my mother making home-made noodles. The sparse shop arrivals never included pasta, so one either had to imagine life without it (no way!) or learned the art of pasta making. Our favourite was mother's egg noodles, which we loved to eat with chicken broth or tomato soup (still do, yum!). (Usually the chicken broth became tomato soup on day 2 or 3, I guess so that we would not grow weary of it too early.) I remember mom's agile hands decidedly handling the dough, switching between a roll pin and a knife to produce long strands of floury goodness that burst with flavour as she threw handfuls of them into a large pot of salty simmering water. We helped with whatever we were allowed to, particularly sampling.
Even as a child, I remember feeling life was full of daily busy-ness in those days, always working, making, mending, getting, and naturally, growing stuff on whatever piece of land you still owned, even if you had to travel to it a fair distance. Well, we did. It had to suffice for a family holiday. An impossibly bumpy country road, a patch of wheat cut with a sickle, black currant bushes, horseradish, bread that went hard but never mouldy; these random pictures are burnt onto my memory plate for no apparent reason. History took turns and we welcomed easier times. Shops became shops again. We moved into larger and more modern cities. But life, rather than slowing down, sped up and started to lose its many deep connections and flavours. Or we became too busy to notice them. In the quest for rest, can we end up losing some of the deep joy of being here on planet Earth? What is it that gives us this sense of fullness, completeness of life?
If I’ve been rambling, forgive me Dear Reader, for I’ve tried to give you a meaningful glimpse into a personal story, a journey that led to this blog, to our little house and (a tad larger) garden in the midst of this busy city we live in, called London. Here we try and GROW, quite literally and otherwise! We grow our little veg patch, our berry bushes, even a vine! With that we grow our connection to this lovely created world of which we are part, but also to our neighbourhood and our community. We want to help our children grow with the same sense of connection. And we marvel at their and our joy.
I hope you stay and rest, and marvel with us.
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