Meeting at the Square


Last month, I found myself standing in Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China. The place dripped with historical significance. The place also seemed haunted in a "this isn't the safest place to express your badass self," kind of way. Yet, people gathered and took photos. People gathered and took time to reflect. And I think part of the mystique is that this is a place where men and women from all over the world gather to listen to their heart and learn from the past.
I have also stood in Red Square in Moscow and I have stood/sat/and lingered in Trafalgar Square in London. I have walked through and participated in the life of Times Square in NYC and I have had a coffee in the Plaza Mayor (Main Square) in Madrid, Spain. Around the world, places were kept for people to come together and simply enjoy the art of relating to one another.
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Upstate New York

Most people are busy. That's what we say to each other. 

"Hey, Fred, how are things? Are you keeping busy," asks Barney.

"Yep, looking forward to a break," says Fred.

And they pass each other thinking that that is good, normal, and productive. Keeping busy has become an expectation. We expect to be pulled in different directions and we expect others to also go from one activity to the next. And we hardly give such things a second thought.

But busyness is not a sign of good work or productivity. Busyness, in fact, may be a form of lazyness. It may be a way to avoid setting priorities and it may be a way to numb out and it may be something that is simply not good.

Traveling recently to upstate New York to get away, I found a sense of rhythm again. Unforced and unrehearsed. And guess what? I was still productive. I still managed to get some things done.

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Paris, France

"This shirt makes me look like I am with child," she said.

"What?" I replied.

"No, seriously, what do you think? Does this shirt make me look pregnant?"

I said nothing. I am a guy and this is a friend of mine who is not only the main reason I am standing in Paris, France, but she's not a guy....therefore, she's a woman....therefore, I don't answer questions related to pregnancy from women.

"Oh, you're afraid to answer...."

I nod.

"Chicken. Froussard?"

"Ok, it kind of makes you look bloated."

"What! Are you serious? What do you mean by bloated?"

"This is why I don't answer these types of questions."

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