I won\u2019t write about first-grade math.
\nIn one case, I\u2019ve already lived it.
\nIn another\u2014it\u2019s not fully \u201cdigested\u201d yet.
\nThis pre-evening portion of thoughts will be about my studies.
\nAfter finishing school and university, I decided to continue learning.
\nLIFE.<\/p>\n
I used to be hot-tempered.
\nAs a child, I would flare up like striking a match against a sulfur wall, eyes wide, laying everything out exactly \u201cas it should be.\u201d
\nAfter many years of living like fire, I met a man.
\nPure water.
\nIt\u2019s hard to get him out of patience.
\nI\u2019ve never heard him yelling.
\nDrama\u2014he doesn\u2019t have it.
\nHe cannot naturally create a tragedy out of nothing.
\nAnd he simply doesn\u2019t know how to endure \u201ceverything is lost\u201d situations.
\nIf something went wrong, if he was upset\u2014I learned to see it only in twitching temples.
\nAnd only if you look closely.<\/p>\n
Over the years, my fiery character was watered by simmering water beside it.
\nPerhaps it so happened that at the same time, a business took its first timid steps.
\nThen \u201cmotherhood.\u201d
\nThen the boutique.
\nThen \u201csecond motherhood.\u201d
\nThen business expansion.
\nProduction.
\nEmployees.
\nRelationships with partners.<\/p>\n
And by nature, I still flared up whenever things didn\u2019t go as agreed.
\nAt home, I calmed down.
\nI blazed, shedding tears, claiming there was no justice.
\nAnd again, I wiped them, reassured, that there really wasn\u2019t.
\nBut it\u2019s not necessary to tear apart and survive sleepless nights over it.
\nI also learned that the world doesn\u2019t need leveling.
\nAnd judging people by one \u201cmeasure\u201d\u2014is not my duty.<\/p>\n
I remember one time, during a flare-up, when I was whistling like a just-boiled childhood kettle, my husband asked me:
\n\u2014Do you really want to kick the door you\u2019ll have to open with your own hand tomorrow?<\/p>\n
I inhaled.
\nExhaled.
\nCounted to ten.<\/p>\n
Counting to ten was taught to me by my primary school teacher.
\nOnce again\u2014my husband\u2019s mother.
\nEvery time I saw how calmly she reacted to each \u201cunloving\u201d situation\u2014I admired her.
\nCalmly. Reservedly. Quietly. Composed.
\nOnly later did I dare ask.
\nThen she told me about counting to ten.<\/p>\n
Today.
\nI\u2019m standing in a \u201cbuns\u201d bakery.
\nNot many people in front of me.
\nSo while they shop, I calmly feast my eyes on the delicious display cases.
\nSuddenly, I realize I\u2019ve been staring too long and overhear a conversation between the seller and a customer.
\nThe first in line, eyes wide, explains to the young seller that the bun placed under \u201ctoday\u2019s\u201d category is not today\u2019s.
\nIn her opinion, it\u2019s too firm to be today\u2019s.
\nThe young seller, blushing, downcast, stands.
\nAnd silent.
\nProbably counting to ten.<\/p>\n
A few days ago\u2014
\nA flower \u201ckiosk.\u201d
\nI always pick flowers and wait in line until the seller is free.
\nThe waiting takes time because\u2026
\nOne customer presses the rose buds, and dissatisfied with some \u201cfirmness or stiffness,\u201d tells the seller to dive back into the giant fridge\u2026to fetch firmer ones!!!
\nHer voice commanding. Tone raised.
\nThe seller silent.
\nFocused, wordlessly dives into the fridge to find new buds.
\nAnd probably counting to ten.<\/p>\n
For some time, I\u2019ve been noticing an elderly man cleaning around our office.
\nMeticulous to the moon and back.
\nOne day, my eyes catch him very carefully collecting trash near containers that didn\u2019t quite make it in.
\nSuddenly, out of nowhere, a young man appears.
\nFrom \u201cposition,\u201d meaning\u2014the old man\u2019s supervisor.
\nAnd \u201cshouts\u201d with all his young lungs that he should not meddle in his work\u2026doing what is not his \u201czone.\u201d
\nThe old man is confused.
\nBewildered.
\nHurries, as fast as his age allows, to his broom in the assigned zone.
\nAnd silent.
\nBut in my mind, I think\u2014he\u2019s counting to ten.<\/p>\n
Now I\u2019m reading a book, which perhaps says it a little inelegantly, but very aptly:
\n\u201cHow easy it is to \u2018vomit\u2019 on others.
\nBun sellers.
\nFlower kiosk employees.
\nYard sweepers.
\nChildren. Husband. Parents. Neighbors. Friends. Colleagues.
\nYou pour out everything you brought from work \/ from situations that humiliated or disappointed you \/ demanded more than you could give.
\nYou pour it all.
\nOn everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
Doesn\u2019t that happen to us too?
\nI thank the generous fate for my husband. Who taught me not to be fire.
\nNot to flare up. Not to shoot off fireworks. Not to bring bad moods home. Sad emotions.
\nI learned not to call Mom and Dad and my Sister whenever something ruined my mood.
\nI learned, and still learn, to react very calmly to any emotion directed at me.
\nI count to ten.
\nSometimes to twenty.<\/p>\n
I thank generous fate that I managed to gather around me such a cool circle of clients.
\nWho, every time they enter the boutique, do you know what they do?
\nThey smile very widely.
\nThey don\u2019t create tragedies out of nothing.
\nThey don\u2019t stage drama scenarios.
\nThey see no point in demonstrating superiority, power, authority.
\nAre they deeply loved?<\/p>\n
Are there others?
\nRarely.
\nBut every time I meet a person with a loaded gun at their side\u2026 I think: how good it is to learn not to be fire, and how good it is to know how to count to ten.
\nIt\u2019s incredible that remembering and applying first-grade math in life can be so hard.<\/p>\n
Thank your life\u2019s unlicensed teachers and their non-academic lessons.
\nWhich, as I now understand, are the most important in life.<\/p>\n
V.<\/p>\n
P.S. This is me. And my colleague.
\nAn unlicensed teacher.
\nAt work and in life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17528","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17528","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17528"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}