English: our labor of love (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
In honor of Labor Day in North America, tell us what’s the one job you could never imagine yourself doing.
What he said:
“A 007 James Bond image is very dangerous for a central banker to have.”
“…the RBI is being managed well. I have spent a lot of time watching the system and thinking about it from my 2008 report to my stint as an adviser to the Prime Minister and as the chief economic adviser.
There are a lot of things I know can be done. I am trying to push to get those things done sooner rather than later. There is tremendous amount of work inside the RBI on doing things, not just by me but my predecessor, Dr Subbarao. I don’t want to take that James Bond (image). But, a banker on the move — I will take that.”
What he really meant:
“I’m licensed but not to kill. I cannot appear to be running the RBI like a bull in a chinaware shop. Everything has to be planned and methodical. Nothing should be left to chance. I cannot be unpredictable or appear to be so. My very demeanor and presence should reassure my constituents.”
What he definitely didn’t:
“Bonds, equity, cash…I’ll take whatever image comes with that. You may even call me Goldfinger.”
You wake up one morning to a world without mirrors. How does your life — from your everyday routines to your perception of yourself — change?
(Thanks for suggesting this thought-provoking prompt, Chocolate Eyes).
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?”
She shrieked for there were no mirrors,
Just tons and tons of walls.
She jawed at them,
But the walls were silent,
And all she could do was listen,
To her voice echoing off them.
It’s then she started hearing,
The cracks in her voice,
Her harsh guttural tones,
Her rabid words,
That were not castigated,
Not toned down,
It was she who had been blinded,
By the reflections of her beauty.
Do you agree with Jane Fonda’s favorite exercise motto, “no pain, no gain?” Is it impossible to attain greatness without considerable hardship?
“No pain, no gain” —that is a universal maxim, believed by most and denied by few.
But I note you have attached a rider—greatness. What if someone wants to be merely good? I jest.
If we wish to achieve something, we need to endure pains to get there. However, what we do not need are unconnected, indirect or neighboring miseries that can be a drag on performance.
Those torments need to be grappled with first before attempting to be Atlas—however worn and weary.
Address the agony; then fly light.
PS: Make sure the baggage you are tackling is yours.
We often hear strange snippets of conversation as we walk through public spaces. When was the last time you overheard something so interesting, ridiculous, or disturbing you really wanted to know what it was all about?
Head turners, you say,
And my first thought ,
is of some lissom stunners,
Who’d make me snap my neck around.
But you’re a bit more pedestrian,
More interested in nasty conversation,
Something jarring in my ear,
That shouts “Look at me,
I’m the a****** here!”
When life gives you lemons… make something else. Tell us about a time you used an object or resolved a tricky situation in an unorthodox way.
They say I’m sour,
A lemon am I.
Well, if that’s the case,
let me make lemonade.
Here, have some!
Oops, It seems I’m supposed to make something else!
Can I have my lemonade back please?
Now, I have no tale that I can recall.
Perhaps, this blog—begun when I had naught to do—
Is that something else!
You’re walking home from work one night and taking shortcuts through a labyrinth of dark city alleyways to meet someone on time. Suddenly, a stranger parts the shadows in front of you, comes close and asks you to hold out your palm. You oblige.
The stranger beckons me.
“Who is this dishevelled man? What does he want?”
I wonder but yet I approach him.
He asks me to show him my palm.
“I don’t believe in palmistry, my man.”
“What else could it be?”, I think.
He is not to be fobbed off.
“Show me your palm!”, he commands in a deep voice.
“I am not interested. I don’t retain faith in astrology either.”
And hands me his bag.
“Hold it for me. I’ve got to run. Bags are not allowed where I’m going.”
He disappears into the adjacent public latrine.
The Stranger (collection) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)