Elvira and Ivan

Elvira, a Uzbek nurse; Ivan, a Cuban engineer; married to each other, living in Cuba in early 90s.

One day Ivan comes to Elvira and tells her that he heard that, in a country called Ireland, he could find opportunities to give them a better living. And a plan was set. 

After selling all family’s few possessions, Ivan left for Ireland with the hope of a better future for him and his family, leaving Elvira and their little boy behind with the promise that he’d be coming back.

Two months after he left, Elvira discovered she was pregnant by him. She panicked. She thought to herself that she was not going to have a baby alone, so she made up her mind and decided to follow Ivan’s footprints. They had a very limited way of contacting each other, so she didn’t have a chance to tell him her plan, but she had made up her mind.  Nothing was going to stop her.

Leaving Cuba was troublesome. As a  Uzbek  she could only go back "home", to Uzbekistan  in the former USSR —  nowhere else. Therefore, it required a lot of preparation, visas, permits, and luck. There was no money left. She had to sell everything she could: the family’s silverware, jewellery, furniture, everything. The money she got from the sales was only enough to buy the tickets for the boy and herself; not much was left.

At that time there was a flight from Cuba to Uzbekistan with a stopover in Shannon, Ireland. The plan was, when arriving in Ireland, during the boarding transfers, she would run to the immigration and ask for asylum.

Elvira left Cuba, to cross the Atlantic Ocean, with her son, carrying her baby in her belly and a small handbag under her arm. No suitcases, nothing else, not even a look back. Not even knowing where or how, she would find Ivan.

When she arrived at Shannon, she knew she had to act fast. While waiting for the next boarding, she tried to think straight about what to do, and how. She couldn’t speak the language. She hadn’t seen the Immigration desk. She was extremely nervous. In her small handbag she had a set of underwear for herself, and another set for the boy, and some cash - $2 US dollars. She took the boy and walked to a kiosk to buy something to eat; only to realise that the money she had was enough to buy only two small sandwiches.  She bought one for the boy, and for herself a pack of cigarettes, which she smoked one after the other, trying to calm herself down.

When the next boarding was announced, she took the boy by hand and ran into the restroom, went into one of the cubicles, and locked it. She was sweating, panicking, trying to keep the boy quiet, not really knowing what to do, praying to God to give her some light; and almost collapsing when she heard their names called over the loudspeakers.

She couldn’t recall how long they stayed there; one hour? three? She doesn’t know. When she felt a little safer, she decided to leave and go in search of the immigration desk. She knew she had to act fast; if the police were to get her, she’d be in serious trouble, and they would be probably deported. She had to find the Immigration desk at any cost!

She looked at the boy and said, “Baby, no matter what, just run with mummy, ok? “

She left the restroom, trying to act normal, trying to see straight, and trying to find the Immigration desk. She felt as if her eyes were defying her; she couldn’t see clearly and she couldn’t even breathe properly. When she thought she was about to faint, she finally spot the Immigration desk. She ran towards it and stood in front of the Officer, and then, she collapsed — and fainted!

She woke up with many Officers around her. She started speaking the only words she knew in their language: “Asylum please! Asylum please!” They couldn’t speak her language, either. But her boy could speak Spanish, so they organised a Spanish interpreter.

And, finally, through her 4 year old boy, she could tell her story.  And she made it clear: “I’m not leaving this country without my husband!”

They were taken to one of those ‘Asylum seekers shelters’, and after a month or so, she was finally reunited with her husband. She was 7 months pregnant at the time.

When Elvira told me this story, her story, she was already working in a hospital, Ivan was working in an IT company, they had bought their own house in Dublin, and she had had not only one child after her arrival in the country, but two beautiful girls.

I heard many stories about Cuban immigration to Ireland, and to other countries; I heard many stories about immigrants and immigration in general. I’m an immigrant myself, and I also have my own story, which also had its struggles.

But, Elvira’s story really touched me. The scene of her and the boy at the airport in Shannon, locked in the cubicle, hiding from security, then running to find the Immigration desk — I still don’t know if it was an act of courage or despair, or both.

If I could say something about Elvira’s story, I would say that it put into perspective for me that for some people, between them and the opportunities of life, there is a huge gap, much wider and much deeper than the Atlantic Ocean.

But not even that can stop them!

What I really learned from Elvira’s story, my friends, is, “What lies between us and our dreams and our desires, should only be our determination to make them into reality.”

 T

Toddlers

Few days ago I was having breakfast at a hotel in Fulda, in Germany, and there was a young family sitting at the table beside me with their Toddler.

Demanding as every Toddler can be, there he was, screaming and pointing to every single item which attracted his attention.  The parents, trying to keep him quiet and to have some breakfast, kept giving to him every single item he pointed to.

Thoughts take us abruptly to some places, although we don’t consciously know the reason, and I caught myself looking at the Toddler and remembering one person with whom I had a relationship many years ago.

Why?  I asked myself.  Surprisingly my subconscious mind immediately came up with the answer:  he was like a Toddler!

If I were to ask you if you’ve ever been in a relationship with a Toddler, you might think I’m a bit insane. But I can prove to you that many of us, at certain times in our lives, have gotten lost in a Toddler’s world.

Toddlers are very charming.  They want to attract you, and everyone, into their world.  Once you’re there, you suddenly realize that they believe they are the center of your, and everyone else’s, Universe, and that everything and everyone revolves/navigates around them, and can be reached at any time.

Toddlers are all about demands.  Their priorities are, they believe, everyone’s priorities.  Although it’s better to say that they don’t even acknowledge other people’s priorities.  They can see the world only, and solely, from the central position they believe they hold.

In the games of daily life, they set the rules.  If you don’t play the way they want, they’ll make sure you feel miserable, and worse, guilty, for upsetting them.  Taking responsibility for their actions is something they also don’t understand — when something doesn’t go the way they expect, of course it’s someone else’s fault.

A relationship with a Toddler is, honestly, nerve-wracking! You live in constant tension, not knowing what he will demand next.  And worse, you want to be ready, to be able to guess his demands prior to being asked, because you want at all costs to avoid a confrontation.  Because, you know, there is no negotiation, nor common sense, with a Toddler.

The fact is, when you get dragged into the gravity field of a Toddler, on the contrary to our lovely Sun, which give us its light and, with that, gives us life, the Toddler takes all your light.  He is the only one allowed to shine. The longer you stay around him, the more probable it is that you’ll end up as just one little faded star in the Toddler’s constellation — or you’ll have gone completely dark.

Contrary to my Toddler, that little boy at the table beside will grow up and, we hope, will realize one day that he can become a key part of someone’s Universe if he’s willing to share the warmth of his light, and be grateful and happy every time they shine.

T

Dos and Don'ts

Last year, few hours before I was due to deliver a speech at a Toastmasters Conference in Lisbon, the contest chair asked me few questions to introduce myself to the audience.  One thing she asked me was: "What are the things you like doing?"

Surprise, surprise -- I got stuck!  Yes, for a lapse of time I couldn’t list what are the things that I do like. To get away from that frozen moment, which seemed to last an eternity, I answered something -- like: to read, to travel, to dance…. whatever.

I could see in her face that she was somehow disappointed by my lack of creativity. I’m sure she thought I was a bit more interesting. And so did I.

I couldn’t get rid of that unpleasant feeling, and I started wondering why I had that reaction.

After baking it in my mind for a considerable time, I realized that it always seems much easier to say what we don’t like, don’t want, don’t care for, don’t love; than what we do like, do want, do care for, do love. Why is that?

I've heard many people say, “I don’t know what I want, but I do know what I don’t want.”

Why do we spend time making sure of our don’ts? Wouldn’t it be more productive to make sure of our dos?

I challenge you to ask yourself what you do like, and then check how long it takes you to come up with a small list of your dos. Then ask yourself what you don’t like (in this order), and check the time. You might be surprised.

The fact is, if you are absolutely clear of what you do want for yourself, for your life, for your family, then when something is presented to you, if your dos are not there, you don’t even need to bother to look at it. You don’t even need to check about the don’ts.  If the dos are not there, then it's not for you. Simple! 

As a result, you will always be looking at things, opportunities, people, through a positive prism. Won't that be more pleasant? 

Mother Theresa once said: "Don't ask me to campaign against war, ask me to campaign Pro-Peace!"

It is all about choices. Whether you look at things from a positive or negative point of view, it's always your choice...

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.

“Which road do I take?” she asked.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Then,” said the cat, “it doesn’t matter.”*

T

*Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Caroll

Rapunzel

Rapunzel was one of my favourite's fairy tales. I had it in LP and used to listen to it over and over again, and to sing along with Rapunzel... "I'm 15 years old, living in this tower alone, braiding my hair and singing along, while waiting for my prince to come, rescue me, and take me home..."


I'm from a generation where too many fairy tales were told to us. There was always a poor girl, somehow under the spell of a certain witch and/or witchcraft, always waiting for a prince to rescue her.


Unfortunately, to add to her suffering, the witch (another woman) was always there to put her under stress, to take the prince away from her. Therefore, she could never be happy until the day the prince; 1) would choose her, and 2) would finally come to rescue her...

The side effect of this was, a prince expectation was really built in our brains, in our lives. And it has been a cause of a lot of misery of many women of my generation, I believe.  Even when we refused to admit it, deep down, we believed that we could only be whole, and happy, when the male figure became part of our lives.


Don't take me wrong. I love the male figure. I love to have one in my life. But, despite the fact that Rapunzel's story has first written in 1812, I have to confess that I also bumped into a lot of walls before I realised that I had to be whole myself in order to really welcome the other whole in my life. 
It is not about looking for your half-orange. It is about being a full orange yourself and meet another full orange, and together make a very rich and concentrated orange juice.


Back to Rapunzel's tale: she was locked in a tower, with just one window, with no way to escape. And what did she do? She sang, melancholically, while wrapping her long hair, waiting for the only "thing" that could save her, could make her happy, could give her future some meaning: a prince to come to rescue her. But, in the meantime, while the prince didn't show up, she had to cope with the visits of the witch who was there to confirm her misery, to remind her of her unlucky fate.
As all other girls from story tales, Rapunzel was always a victim.

The bad news is, there are still too many Rapunzels around.

However, there are some good news. You can always change your fate.
I truly believe so.

What about giving another meaning to Rapunzel's story...?


"Once upon a time there was a wonderful woman called Rapunzel. She was taken to a tower, with no way to escape. The door was locked from outside, and there was only one window. 
She knew, from the stories that were told to her, that she should be there singing and waiting, until the day, somehow, from somewhere, A prince would come to rescue her. 
She should be ready, and for that she should grow her hair to be long enough for the prince to climb up to her, when the so longed day would arrive.
But, this lady Rapunzel, was not like the other ones before, and instead of feeling miserable, waiting for A prince to rescue her, as her predecessors did, she took the time in the tower to learn about herself, to listen to her inner voice and, above all, to learn how to love herself deeply. 
As time passed, the more she learned about herself, more peaceful she felt, and with the realization of  how precious she was, instead of growing a long hair to help someone to reach her, to rescue her, she grew wings and through the window she flew away and set herself free..." 


T

Weeds and Vampires

Some of you might not know but I have an old dog. A 13 year old Golden Retriever, who is now almost blind, almost deaf, and has almost no sense of smell.

A long time ago, I read a book about dogs' behaviour and psychology, and in this book one thing that struck me was: when dogs get old, or become a hazard to their pack, they are either left to die, or killed by the pack leader. Shocking right?

Lately, when walking my dog, I’ve observed that every time another dog comes to meet him, even when from the distance the other dog comes wagging his tale (which means he is in a friendly mood), once he gets closer he attacks my old one.

This wouldn’t happen before. And I started wondering why.

I got to the conclusion, that the other dog might sense my dog’s weakness. Therefore my dog is a hazard to be eliminated.

Not fair, I thought at first. But, giving it a second thought I realised that this is typical  human misunderstanding of nature's wisdom.

Take a look at your plants. All old and dying leaves, the weeds, have to be removed in order to allow the plant to keep growing and blossoming.

Now take a look at our own lives. How many times we have experienced relationships at work, within our family and close ones, where there are some people who are like weeds and vampires. They are sucking our vital energy, our blood, and we are still feeling guilty because we know we don’t have enough for both of us.

Well, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t allow those weeds and vampires take over you. You shouldn’t weaken yourself to give to others. It is against nature.

As for my dog, I can say he is not a burden to me. But I can fully understand why he is a hazard to his pack mattes.

Think about that and do yourself a favour: "Follow nature's wisdom and start your spring cleaning by cutting off all weeds and exorcising all vampires of your life, and start blossoming."

Happy Easter!

T

Chorinho

Sharing a bit of Brazilian Popular Music...


"Choro, traditionally called chorinho ("little cry" or "little lament"), is a Brazilian popular music instrumental style. Its origins are in the 19th century in Rio de Janeiro. In spite of the name, the style often has a fast and happy rhythm, characterized by virtuosity, improvisation, subtle modulations and full of syncopation and counterpoint.

Choro is considered the first urban popular music typical of Brazil.

In the 19th century, choro resulted from the style of playing several musical genres (polka, schottische, waltz, mazurka and habanera) by carioca musicians, who were already strongly influenced by African rhythms, principally the lundu and the batuque. The term "choro" was used informally at first to refer to the style of playing, or a particular instrumental ensemble.

Just like ragtime in the United States, tango in Argentina and habanera in Cuba, choro springs up as a result of influences of musical styles and rhythms coming from Europe and Africa."
Source: Wikipedia


Enjoy it!

Matterhorn

A couple of months ago I delivered a speech in my Prestigious Speakers Toasmasters club in Barcelona where the core message was "every time you fall, get up, shake the dust and keep walking."

Recently I had to face a big new challenge in my life. Something that I had never planned before moving to Switzerland, honestly. I was "kindly asked" by my partner (who is an excellent skier) to learn to ski.
He loves it so much that he wanted to share that joy with me. For that, I would have to learn how to do it.

I was a bit sceptical.... Being a Brazilian, my closest relationship with ice was an ice-cream. Running down slopes was never part of any plan in my life.
But there I was, in the beautiful Zermatt, facing the 4, 478 metres (14,690ft) high, gigantic Matterhorn, thinking, "What the hell am I doing here?"


However, at this stage in life I have learned to take new challenges as opportunities. Opportunities to open new doors, to see new worlds, to discover new talents within myself.

And with that mind-set, I took my first class. Wow, it was fun!
I realised that breaking a bone was not that easy. So, the first fear was conquered.
Now, I had to practice. And so I did. I practiced over 3 hours each day, non-stop. I have to say that I was impressed with my own self-determination.
After 8 days, my big day arrived: I was finally going down a slope.

The pure air coming into my lungs, the absolutely amazing landscape, and the sense of freedom was such a powerful experience that I wanted it more and more, and each day I was aiming to overcome another little step, practising, polishing, and doing it over and over again.

When I was on my teens someone once told me: "The higher you go, the hardest and painful is the fall..." Not a motivational advice I might say. Thank God, somehow, I never followed it.

These past two weeks, being there, at the top of the world, looking at Matterhorn, such statement came to my mind and made me laugh. Taking the ski experience as an analogy to that statement, if I had a chance to meet that person again, I would love to say: "Dear friend, aim for the highest you can imagine. You will fall, of course, it is part of the learning process. But, every time you get up, you will be a step further, you will be amazed with the new talents you discover within yourself, and the new environments you will be surrounded by. And I can promise you that you will be willing to fall as many times necessary to conquer those new horizons."


T