At church, an older couple shuffles down the aisle to their pew. He reaches out for her hand, which she willingly and eagerly accepts, and they proceed to their seats.
A young mother holds her baby close. She kisses a chin and each cheek and smells the back of the neck as she patiently and purposefully sways.
A college-aged couple passionately embraces in the middle of the bread aisle. Their hands linger and their kiss is long. They see no one.
After he died she sat next to his empty chair. Weak and weary, she held her post for 9 days. Then she returned to him for eternity.
These are silent love stories.
No words are exchanged. In fact, no words are necessary.
Often overlooked and undervalued, sincere gestures and intentional presence are at the center of silent love stories.
On a day where things might seem loud or need to be proclaimed, look for the silent stories. They’re everywhere. They tell us more than we imagine and give us everything to believe.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
“For pleasure has no relish unless we share it.” ― The Common Reader
Forgive me while I nerd out to Virginia Woolf’s words for a moment. There’s something so simple but profound about these words, especially as I revisit them. The other day I was mid-fika and struggling to decipher where I was going with this entire passion and purpose of mine. Already a teacher, I didn’t want to be labeled as an educator when I present or facilitate the byproducts of fika. I’m not business minded so it felt false to use entrepreneur as a title or label. And while I cling to the title of passionprenuer, this too fell short of representing my ideas and aspirations.
I started to think about the brands, businesses, and influencers that I respect and follow. I delved into what it was that made their mark so much more impressionable and inspiring than others. It all came back to one thing, which was so fitting for me and the act of fika. I am drawn to stories. The art of sharing and collaborating through storytelling is my niche. It’s where I feel the pleasure Woolf suggests.
I look for relevancy and connectivity through shared storytelling. It’s my thing. It’s why I go deep.
Earlier this month I spoke about my desire to thematically approach fikas. I wrote about my intention to pursue two projects close to me. It’s a time consuming and tedious task and I need help.
Tell me something good about Facebook. Seriously, give me the positives. Ready. Set. Go.
Email me at fishingforfika@gmail
I’m a diver. I go deep. Let me stop and clarify that I’m a philosophical diver. I dream and dive into things quickly. I take no lessons, I often enter skilless or void of experience, and I tend to go with an “I’ll see how it goes” mentality. I imagine experts and gurus are shaking their heads. This approach doesn’t work for a lot of people. When people enter into places or positions without plans steam is lost, energy wasted, and disappointment frequent. But this works for me. It’s taken me years to realize that I’m most invigorated, productive, and pleasant when I’m forcefully throwing myself into things.
I like the adrenaline rush and I love the reveal of potential. These gifts come to me in the midst of chaotic production. When you don’t know what you’re doing some say it’s fake it until you make it time. I prefer the phrase dive or drown. I can either dive deeper, think differently, learn more, and swim confidently, or I can drown in doubt, pity, and regret. Listen, everyone has a way that works for them. Correction, everyone should find a way that works for them. This is what works for me.
I’m of the opinion that these days the busyness of the world doesn’t allow for deeper dives. People don’t make time to go beyond the surface. However, for those who go the extra mile they create and cultivate a scenario that allows for introspection and investment, and prepare themselves for varying levels of decompression (google that scuba term). By jumping in there’s a chance to discover breathtaking and unchartered waters.
I’m a diver. I go deep.
“Sometimes you need things rather than just thoughts.” ― The Rest of Us Just Live Here
One of my aunts recently retired. We spoke the other day about her newest endeavor in retirement, which is photography. She has long admired the art form and decided to pursue her passion in retirement. Her excitement is palpable.
I like when people get excited about things. Sometimes things become significant enough to change our attitude, direction, and/or purpose.
This thing I’m doing with Fishing for Fika is transitioning to becoming more for me than I imagined. While scary, it’s equally, if not more, exciting.
Currently, Marie Kondo is transforming the way we see things in our possession. I’m no Kondo, just Katie, but I’m trying to spark consideration about the things we do.
The answer to overthinking is often doing.
So, what’s your thing right now?
“Friends who want to stay friends don’t discuss religion or politics.”
These days my Facebook feed is filled with political and religious advertisement and opinion. Twitter seems to be the same. The news, albeit traditional or online, is a running commentary of chaos. Hollywood continues to replicate our realities in its respective mediums while the media’s inevitable influence extends to all areas of our consumerism.
There’s no escape from political and religious jargon and discourse. It’s never-ending.
The problem with politics and religion isn’t discourse, but rather decency.
Fika, as an institution and an integral part of this project, is about connection. It’s a purposeful investment in others, which in turn becomes self-serving for character development and fulfillment. It’s the missing piece.
This is no longer an “us and them” argument. It extends far beyond the reach of parties or varying faiths and texts.
In openness and vulnerability, the opposing viewpoints are garnering a response to refute. It’s become the norm for immediate dismissal of opposition, a quick cast of judgment, and instant citation of evidence or doctrine.
But what about decency?
I don’t pretend to be an expert in politics or religion. I’m more novice than I care to admit. I am, however, willing to engage. I have only one request. Be decent.