Returning to work after a fantastic holiday really is a woeful experience, no decompression chamber just straight back to the usual drill. That sense of spatial awareness inflated with my soul recalls the wave pool swaying my limbs, the weight of the sand on top of my buried hands, the tiny prisms of sunlight dancing across my eyelashes as I lay basking under the seasons spell. I reflected for the first time in my life I was actually enjoying a ‘relaxing’ holiday… Yet I’d also camped in a flooded tent with children sick all over their sleeping bags, rushing around to visit as many museums as possible and spent hours stuck in traffic. So why conclude this holiday to be any more relaxing than any other? Perhaps it wasn’t, maybe it was – it really doesn’t matter. A small trifle of inconsequential importance. That is what made it relaxing. I didn’t need to be constantly right.
The extended family, like any with differing personalities, cast their political shadows; drum support for the opposing team; even contribute conflicting paternal advice and offer recipe for improving an already perfect vacation. Plans that fall through; tardy punctuality; change of venue… the list inexhaustible as too many cooks began to spoil the broth. Perhaps it needed these ‘spices of life’, maybe it didn’t – it certainly was irrelevant. I didn’t need to be right. Yes, I sold out for the sake of keeping peace and family harmony. Sure, arguing your point is a basic human right but at what cost? We can all learn the value of biting our tongue sometimes; and may it come naturally without leaving any teeth marks. To agree on a subject of unimportance is far more productive than throwing valued opinion at something you scarcely care to ever mention again.
Memories are truly what makes a good holiday, not falling out over degradable words that couldn’t be recalled now even under pain of death. When I was 8 years old I arrived at the seaside, but the driver had gave far too much change to my Granddad who’d noticed having got off the bus, so we waited. For someone small it seemed ages before that same bus following its route reappeared and my Granddad was able to give the driver back his money that he’d incorrectly given him. What we spoke about during those 40 or 50 minutes I can’t think, just words. But what was important were his actions in doing the right thing. Some 30 years later I finally realized that my Granddad wasn’t waiting to correct the bus drivers’ cash balance – No! He had waited at that bus stop, close to an hour, for me; a lesson I will carry with me till my dying day. Yes, we may not always need to be right, but when the difference can deflate our souls… He needed ME to be right.
Ascertain which battles are worth fighting and YOU too my friend will have relaxation all year long. Thanks for visiting The Lemon Circus and supporting our show on Mixcloud, and hope we both agree, a heart without anger will always find the right answer… eventually 🙂