My Own Best Company

Unexpected changes to plans left me entirely alone with myself yesterday. A cancellation and a postponement left me with a day of no requirements, no appointments, no nothing. Initially, it felt daunting. I had many things I wished to do (blog, read, edit a friend’s novel, cook, sort my clothes, go shopping for a new juicer, backup my computer, do laundry, etc, etc). Yes, the list of things TO DO grew to be long. And I also wondered, would I get antsy with no social activity?

I woke up relatively early as I had hoped to video chat with a friend in Abu Dhabi. That also was postponed because her day had shifted. I made coffee and journaled as the sun shone bright outside. I boiled eggs and made my mother’s tuna-egg-salad. I oven roasted some brussel sprouts. Not your average morning fare, but yummy nonetheless. After 11 am I found myself showered and ready to head outside. I went to the nearest mall in search of a replacement juicer. This requires riding the Metro two stops to it’s end and walking the other half of the way. The morning was crisp, just under 50 degrees. Most people were bundled up in coats and scarves, some even had hats. I was wearing a fleece sweatshirt and a scarf with a T shirt and jeans. As I was in motion, I was perfectly comfortable. My inner thermostat is set to something different here, OR it will take more time to recalibrate after living in Mongolia for three years. I am rarely cold and even prefer to sleep with my window open at night (when there isn’t coal smoke, that is).

I did not listen to music on this journey. I felt the desire to be quiet and to watch people, to notice and experience my surroundings. I did feel melancholy and a shade of dissonance to NOT be meeting up with others. I let those feelings pass through me. I enjoyed a latte while starting our next Book Club book (On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous). I did my juicer research, found one, and then decided I would wait and see if I truly needed it. I visited the two book stores in search of Midnight in Chernobyl and came up empty-handed. I grabbed a few necessary groceries on the journey home.

Ziggy joined me for a one hour nap.

After my nap I made a small meal and watched about 20 minutes of Netflix. Then I decided I would venture to downtown Izmir, to Alsancak, to revisit the restaurant where I’d had dinner with a girlfriend the night before. I’d left my reading glasses there and as they are new, I didn’t want to abandon them. Sunset was approaching and I was hopeful to catch it from the Kordon.

I rode the Metro four stops to Konak and walked the rest of the way. I stopped off at the Pier and tried the Remzi book store there. Still no luck for the Chernobyl book, but picked up this gem anyway. There is something very lovely about being out-and-about, and feeling free to purchase what one wants on a whim. I’m a fan of The School of Life and this book seemed perfect timing as I’ve had numerous conversations recently about people who seem to LACK basic emotional intelligence (EQ).

I walked on to downtown, snapping a picture of the bright sun ricocheting off the still sea water. There was a haze in the air which muted things, softening the edges. It’s “cold” here in Izmir for the Turks; it is their wintertime. Therefore coal had been burned overnight by some of the older buildings in the city. The Air Quality rating was in the 101-150 range, which is Unhealthy for Sensitive Groups. It was the first time I’d noticed it above moderate (51-100) or good (0-50). There was the smell of coal in the air, though it is NOTHING like what I experienced living in Ulaanbaatar for three winters.

I made it to the restaurant, retrieved my glasses (Of course they had them!), and returned to seaside where I sat and watched the sun set over the mountains.

Afterwards, I walked back to Konak. Before catching the tram home to Göztepe, I wandered over to the Clock Tower and snapped this picture. Even I have lived here a year and a half, I’ve never ventured to the Clock Tower to observe it after dark. But I was at my leisure and could follow each and every whim which came my way. I had been practicing all day which meant this few minute detour came easily. 

I listened to music on this outing, but I was alone and felt quiet in my mind. That’s the best word for the day–quiet.

Upon arrival home around 19.30 I made a cup of hot cocoa and pulled out my coloring books, and YES, I colored. Crayola crayons. Old school coloring book. I read the introduction of that new book. And then shortly after 22.00 I climbed into bed and slept for more than eight hours–something I almost never do. 

The day was a beautiful gift and today–Sunday–looks to be just the same. Here I am writing with a full day ahead of me to do with, whatever I wish. My fall months were spent in a flurry of travel and activity–Dubrovnik in October, Kiev in November, and a visiting friend for the holidays in late December/early January. Since the end of September I’ve been busy dating one particular man. I take Turkish on Mondays and have a standing engagement with a girlfriend on Wednesdays. Yes, since we started the new school year in August, I have been going and going, almost always being sociable with my boyfriend or friends or coworkers. 

This quiet weekend has reminded me of how much I enjoy my own company. I remember there is NOT a lack of things to do or enjoy. My mind has many thoughts, wishes, and puzzles to think, wonder, and work out. My body enjoys walking solo and observing others. My eyes and heart always delight at catching one more sunset. I am letting go of the American domesticated way-of-being that is of always being in pursuit of the next accomplishment.

My life is good and rich. I love the people I’ve surrounded myself with. I am comfortable in my home. I have purposeful work. In this moment, I want for nothing and that is a gift or blessing that one can not quantify. So I will notice it. I will enjoy it. I am treasuring it. 

Alain De Botton writes in the introduction to The School of Life: An Emotional Education that, “The emotionally intelligient person knows how to hope and be grateful, while remaining steadfast before the essentially tragic structure of existence.” I have known my tragedies. I have had my sadnesses and moments of desperation. But now is not those times. And so I am hopeful, and most certainly grateful. I’m grateful to have the time and opportunity to notice all of it–from the sunset on the water, to the beauty of good people in my life, to the health and strength of my body. 

I guess you could say that a weekend of silence and quiet has provoked from me gratitude and appreciation. And that’s not bad.