Dear Diary,
One of the rather meaningful life pleasures, it turns out, is to take to Kleboniškis not only walking poles and a thermos with coffee but also headphones with a calm and wise audiobook. Then the fact that countless aspects of worldly daily life are completely stupid and pointless you not only see and feel but also hear.
Not for the first year in the professional sphere I actively endorse the “one team” idea. Perhaps somewhat naively I believe that, first and foremost, a group of people glued together by friendliness and team spirit rather than papers and obligations can achieve significantly more and with a much higher mood. Just as on the basketball court – the tapping of five fellas in matching jerseys, each immersed in their own personal concerns, on the squeaking parquet wouldn’t bring much charm and would probably take place in completely empty arenas.
Where is that magical threshold, upon crossing which two, five, ten thousand or, in the case of the Baltic Way, two million people become something one – a fist, a team, a force? What is that magical condition? And the calm voice in the headphones seemed to help grasp if not the answer, then at least the thread leading toward it. Bright people, it says, live in a shared world. Dark ones – each in their own separate one. And indeed – upon running through memory you recall that the most disgusting thing you could hear from a candidate for a second half was “understand, I have my own life too.” I don’t know what specifically they mean – whether that you’re a snail living in your personal shell, or that you’re from another planet that could be called some other world and other life, but how to put this more beautifully literarily… put on your skates and engage in activity with a sexual undertone! (skate the f* off, if not literarily at all :-))
However, people living in their personal worlds somehow don’t tend to take the time and send each other packing. They create families. The process should seemingly reflect the creation of some shared world, shared life, yet often becomes simply a collection of two separate lives. Which periodically touch each other. Or, more accurately, crash into each other. The husband lives in a world about work, salary and a mistress. The wife lives in a world about a new apartment, a new car and new furs. For the above-mentioned salary. And somewhere around “Where are my furs?” “Here are your furs!” those worlds intertwine. Just two people – and already no team. What to speak of five, ten or two hundred people.
And, conversely. If I live in the same world where another lives, how can I defecate where they eat? How can they defecate where I eat? How can we act against each other? We can only act together, and only for the sake of our shared world (company, city, state, planet) being tomorrow even brighter, more beautiful and more comfortable.
Probably that’s the magical threshold into the team. A threshold from the dark and cramped “I have my own life” into the spacious and bright. The only one. And meant for everyone.
“Namaste” to some, “good luck” to others and “together!” to the rest :-)
