I came across a new word yesterday in a deli in Dover. It was written in large on the wall next to where I ordered my sandwich:
MERAKI (may-rah-kee) (v.) to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work.
I looked at and studied the word meraki for the full length of time I was in the deli. My phone informed me that meraki is a contemporary Greek word. I especially like the second part of the definition:
To put something of yourself into your work.
So I say here’s what we do. We’ll start right now:
We will always be considerate. We will always be gentle. We will remember people’s names and respect their ideas. With our partners, especially, we will never speak with tone or say, I told you so.
When we screw up, we’ll admit it. When we’re wrong, we’ll admit it. We will never postpone the announcement of our failures.
We will understand that, while greed can destroy us, compassion can save us. We will understand that stuff, the accumulation of stuff, inevitably leads to dissatisfaction and lethargy.
We will live near windows. We will live near trees. We will swim in the oceans and wade across small brooks.
We will eat real food. We will know real farmers. Continue reading
Because even with seven billion of us notwithstanding, there’s always enough anxiety. And because barefooted, she’s noticed, is how lettuces do it. No matter the winds, the suns, the mid-morning spiders, no matter the hails that slice them down…it’s always earth they reach for, their tiny toes pushing down down. And kind earth, ever longstanding, holds them. That’s why, see. That holding. That’s why she so often stands barefooted with lettuces.