Non-negotiables

Last year, I established some clear values and clarified some defective thought patterns. My perfectionism, in particular. I realise now that perfection isn't about the finished product, or beating yourself up about failure.

Rather, it's a commitment. A commitment to disciplining yourself to do what you value, and embrace and take joy in repetition. Repetition is everything. Practise makes perfect.

To fail means you are challenging yourself. I used to avoid facing up to my failures, because I felt ashamed of not living up to my standards.

But standards are subjective. They are a perception we create for ourselves, to strive towards. As I grow to understand my practise of something, be it dance, writing, or being a a better Christian, I find myself constantly reevaluating and redefining my perception of perfect.

The real perfect, the real product is the process. The process of repetition and practice.

I embrace failure now, because I know that it reflects taking a risk. Failure, not success, enables you to learn and grow.

Over the next couple of years, I shall strive to establish habits. Non-negotiable disciplines and practises that I will retain for the rest of my life.

Some surprising non-negotiables emerged over the past couple of years, and they include needing to dance and write several times a week.

Last year, I experimented. I realised that five basics are essential.

The first four are meditation/prayer, adequate sleep, exercise, and eating.

I need a lot of exercise; in the ballpark of a minimum of ten hours a week. I need an average of seven and a half hours of sleep, and preferably earlier in the night and earlier in the morning, probably waking up around seven every day. To that end, I try to switch off screens after eleven, although sometimes important communication with family or friends trumps that desire.

I endeavour to eat slowly and mindfully, and luxuriate in conversation.

I avoid sugar.

I used to love all things chocolate and ice-cream, but I realised that I am addicted to sugar. The penny dropped when I ate almost an entire packet of cookies one night, and woke up the next day, head full of what I needed to do that day, and could not bring myself out of bed. Then the thought of a chunky cookie dunked in the foam of a cappuccino came to mind, and suddenly I was out of bed like a shot.

Last year,  I attempted to quit sugar. I tried cutting it down, but it usually ended in a rebound day. So I tried abstinence, the way alcoholics do.

That worked.

It was quite possibly the best change, but also the hardest change I made. The first few days I was tired and craved it. I drank cider and bubble tea, which didn't count. But over time, I realised that my energy, cognitive clarity, moods and impulse control had drastically improved, and my belly fat had reduced.

The past quarter, I experimented with relaxing the abstinence in view of increased travel, Christmas and the social nature of having dessert and sweet things. But in those two months, I gained weight, developed acne, became more lethargic, moody and impulsive. I know that just as alcoholics must avoid alcohol, I too must avoid sugar.

The final is the most important constant of all, which is being able to let go of everything, and prioritise relationships. Family. The family I have by blood, the family I have in Christ, and the family I will have by marriage. The real center of my life.

Fabled to win

One thing I've learnt is that you can't hope to win if you're afraid to lose.

In Aesop's fable of the tortoise and the hare, we are meant to learn the value of perseverance. But what we don't often think about was that even though the tortoise wins, he was still taking a risk in even running the race. He wasn't playing it safe. Imagine how all the animals must have laughed at him for being stupid enough to take on the hare! But fear of losing didn't stop him.

He had something much more powerful than speed, he had strategy. He understood the psychology of the individual.

Meditation on mindfulness

Some time ago, I came across a happiness social science experiment by Killingsworth and Gilbert. They developed an app to ping at random times during the day. At that point the participants were to input what activity they were doing, whether their mind was wandering, and whether they were happy. As expected, people were happiest when they were doing what they loved (e.g. sex). But interestingly, and perhaps unexpectedly, they found that when the participants were doing an unpleasurable task and paying attention to it, they were happier than when they were doing the same task whilst mind wandering, even if they were engaged in a pleasurable daydream. People are happiest when they pay attention to whatever they are doing, when they are mindful and living in the moment, rather than forward planning, reminiscing, or daydreaming.

Learning how to maintain a state of attention and presence, in the age of distraction we live in today, is especially challenging. One way it can be cultivated is through meditation. Meditating has powerful protective effects on age-related cortical thinning. In fact, meditation has been shown to actually develop grey matter in areas associated with memory, learning, attention and emotional regulation. Meditation was associated with the development of the left prefrontal cortex, an area associated with feelings of well-being and happiness.

No one is born unhappy. Our brains have not developed yet. But we become unhappy. Whether we become wired to be happy or unhappy in disposition depends very much on our experience of the external environment. For instance, whether we are loved and supported as children, or whether we are traumatised by violence, bullying, abandonment, neglect or abuse.

Traumatised minds tend to be fearful, anxious, depressed, and riddled with insecurities and perceptions that lead us into a negative spiral that limits our social functioning. Traumatised minds are trapped. Mired by their past and the thinking patterns they have developed, they cannot change, and instead bring their traumatic past into their present and future.

Resilient minds are open to change, and adopt mindsets that help us deal. As we develop our minds, we also develop coping mechanisms and resilience, and we all have, to some extent, a choice as to how we want to respond to our external environment, and how we want to shape and change our brains. It is not an easy task, but it is one that we are constantly engaged in, whether consciously or unconsciously. Mindful awareness of our moment to moment existence creates a space for us to recognise the moment we are making choices to feel or think in a certain way and take more conscious control of shaping the way we want our brains to grow.

Fragile on the bow

As the rain pours down
And the moon waxes and wanes
A blossom falling

Saudade

I wouldn’t;
but the coincidence of dates and glimpses
dislodge the scrapbook box of
memories
scattered
seeing the pieces of you
hearing
the pieces of us
as one snap shot
topples deck after deck -

watch us listen
to the cinematic
orchestra to
build a home in
our dialogue of paired response in
laughing at who's line is it anyway, or in
watching movies
wrapped up warm in the blankets of each other arms
in the cinema
in the opera house
in the bed
I; snuggled under the tent of your yellow T-shirt of a big bird in a small cage
you; too snug in a pair of green checkered shorts

haunted now these
spaces these
places these
windows these
views these
pictures
of a startled naked man with a fat cat
of a tiny ship in a massive storm
of cleats soaked through with your dried sweat
of a broken shower head with a water fount for two
of a little red Subaru holding hands between gear shifts as we feel the engine purr
of our Field of Giggles - I giggled whilst you dribbled and we played bunnyhop football
of a pair of badminton racket covers by a Bruce Lee statue
of a backpack of apples 'cause we filled it till we spilled it.

Out of the woodwork they came; I was numb
yet surprised to find
that the pieces of a mending wall
were made to be re-broken
and sadomasochistic vindication
by their penetration.

Nothing remains of us now
but fading sepia
and the elegiac -algia of knowing
there is nothing left -
but the time I lose
as I pick up
haphazard
higgledy piggledy
the memories amassed
a mess of them
hastily - oh that I could throw them out!
as time runs on
leaving me




momentarily
scattered.

Locus of agency

So tired of fighting;
don't know what it is I'm fighting for -
ours is but to do and die,
ours is not to reason why,
but even soldiers pretend
that they know enemy from friend.
Do the job at hand -
it's worth two in the bush.

Why second guess?
Why doubt?
Keep convictions strong.
Keep grit stronger.

Keep telling myself I've so much left to offer - 

Davy says that I look stronger.

But trying is trying; the silent wait for sweet release keeps getting longer,
and I wait with onerous hunger.

Perhaps impatience will be the final winner;
I drink my final draught and wait to pull the trigger.

On Relationships

The key to a healthy, adult relationship is being able to accept each other. To see someone for who they are. To understand the strength and reason behind what appears to be weakness in the eyes of many others. This is foundation of selflessly respecting and loving someone.

Ironically, one of the keys to being selfless is to recognise your own needs, so you can work out how they fit in the context of the partnership. It involves learning your own boundaries, personal space, and limitations.

It seems like a paradox that in order for healthy attachment and dependence on each other, one must first learn independence. But in the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

Perhaps it is for this reason that I am so mistrustful of praise in courtship. In a subtle way, flattery is holding a mirror to someone else and saying, you are amazing, and I noticed it, therefore I am amazing. Being absorbed by the admiration of the chosen other can amount to narcissistic navel gazing.

Although it feels good, this ends up being very damaging, because you then expect that person to live up to a perfection that does not exist. At the end of the day, this is mere infatuation.

Put in other words, it is easy to see a loved one as an extension of self. The person who completes you. Praise and flattery is the stepping stone to developing an idealised perception of how someone ought to be. But it is simply not right to project that perception on that person. If you do, you end up feeling frustrated by their weaknesses and inequities, because you see them as a reflection on yourself, and resent it.

But in the right context, it can also be encouraging, confidence-building and inspiring. The Pygmalion effect, as it were, to live up to someone else's belief in you. Alain de Botton puts it beautifully in his book, Essays on Love:

"Everyone returns us to a different sense of ourselves, for we become a little of who they think we are. Our selves could be compared to an amoeba, whose outer walls are elastic, and therefore adapt to the environment. It is not that the amoeba has no dimensions, simply that it has no self-defined shape. It is my absurdist side that an absurdist person will draw out of me, and my seriousness that a serious person will evoke. If someone thinks I am shy, I will probably end up shy, if someone thinks me funny, I am likely to keep cracking jokes."

In this modern age, marriage often ends in divorce. But divorce is a paradox. Marriage is simply a lifelong agreement to prioritise each others' needs, and do our best to fulfil them above all other personal agendas in life. Divorce says, I put my own agenda first. My agenda to have another love interest, or to prioritise my career. Simply put, it is self-defeating selfishness. It denigrates the sanctity and trust which everyone should accord to their word. It denotes a lack of self-respect, as self-respect gives way to self-interest. For it is admitting that I break my vow. I contradict myself. My words are meaningless.

We will likely fail miserably many times during a lifelong commitment to be patient, to be kind, to be understanding. Marriage will not always be happy. For better or for worse, after all. But it is through the imperfect process of attachment, and learning, and constantly recommitting to loving one person for your entire life, that you truly, madly, deeply learn to love, and learn to love everyone else better for it.

The courage to connect

Sometimes the fear of rejection is so powerful that rather than risk being rejected, one would rather reject, or give up on opportunity.

Perhaps part of the appeal of becoming a doctor is the idea of implicit acceptance. You are let into the life of another, someone who sees the doctor as a confidant. You are someone who is needed. You are accepted. As a doctor, you see people who, at their most vulnerable, act or speak in pain, or grief or anger, and you endeavour to dissociate yourself and remain objective and impartial. Beyond maintaining a demeanour of professionalism, I am coming to realise that an essential part of being a doctor is the offering of acceptance. Acceptance of who they are, and what they are going through, and being willing to see them through their suffering, regardless of the way they treat you or others. This comprises a large part of the therapeutic rapport of a doctor.

Acceptance of who people are, and what they are going through, and being willing to see them through their suffering, regardless of the way they treat you or others. This also comprises a large part of being a parent. A spouse. A friend. Perhaps if more people could offer this to each other there would be less need for doctors.

One of the scariest things about being an artist is the tremendous vulnerability of knowing that you are putting yourself out there to be judged. It is the fear of rejection - a critical audience. Or perhaps of an even harsher critic - the self.

A question I keep returning to is why leave what I have to face such potential for rejection. I once came across a phrase -- courage is not the absence of fear, but the judgement that there is something more important than fear.

Still waters run deep my dear

A friend of mine and I were chatting about the tension between wanting and being happy, and my tongue stumbled upon the sentence - happiness is not found by doing something in order to be happy, but in being happy doing something. I realise this marked a culmination of a 12 year reflection on happiness, which can be found here: 1 2 3

It's surreal to realise that is the fabric of reality - the things you realise come full circle in the never-ending cycles of being.

Happiness is not found by doing something in order to be happy, but in being happy doing something. But doing what? Whilst there is happiness in simply being in the moment, there is more to happiness and joy - fundamentally, it comes from connectedness and being of value to others. A sense of usefulness and purpose.

Sometimes that purpose seems to come the pursuit of something; a place of wanting. Perfection, for example (arguably a human construct that does not really exist, but don't get me started on that). For me at least, being drawn to all-consuming pursuits like dance or medicine perhaps stems from an unfulfilled sense of human connection. In a way, it is a form of escape from that sadness - that sense of disconnection or isolation. But no matter how good you are, it never feels good enough, or like you've worked hard enough. The very escape and reward becomes a kind of punishment as you feel inadequacy - no matter how hard you try, it is never good enough for you, and you realise that you haven't actually resolved the underlying sense of disconnection, but that it has come out as inadequacy of another sort.

The pursuit of a relationship as a means to that end doesn't work either. Whilst a seemingly straightforward solution to the problem of human disconnect, this pursuit is actually damaging to the relationship in question if the entirety of the weight of your need for connection now rests on a single person. It generally ends up in neuroticism like 'Oh my God, why hasn't s/he texted back when it says s/he is 'online' or has 'read' the text', and a sense of disappointment when you realise that the relationship or person has not lived up to your expectation of what connectedness should be. Relationships are not a solution, or a 'magic bullet' cure to loneliness. If you think they are, then in the words of Sia, all your bullets ricochet. To love isn't about fulfilling your own need.

Happiness cannot be pursued. In a related vein of philosophical musings, you can't always get what you want, and getting what you think you want is often an exercise in realising that what you think you want isn't actually what you are really lacking. To paraphrase the words of Anna Pavlova, happiness cannot be chased, but like a butterfly, will come to rest gently on your shoulder.

There is happiness and satisfaction in being fully present in the moment that you are in, not being distracted from it by the past, or the future, or your own wants and desires. Whilst for some people that amounts to the New Age mindfulness of simply being, meditation and the like, for me it finds its best absolution in connection and belief in God. The belief that He loves us, and that He has made it this way, and is working in our lives. That the situations we are in, however they look to our human eyes, have value. Weak or strong, rich or poor. The sick inspire us with their fighting spirit, and the well take joy in caring for those in need. For it is through our individual circumstances that we are uniquely positioned to connect to others, and to mean something to other people. There can be many dancers, or waitresses, or admin officers. But no one else is truly in the same position, and no one else can replace us. It is out of this that we find purpose. And it is through the ongoing fulfilment of that purpose that joy arises. Joy is that sense of purpose that is fulfilled by an other-person centeredness in human connection. Joy looks outwards and runs deeper than a feeling of happiness.

Love, happiness, joy. All inextricably intertwined and culminating in moments of bliss, through a very good conversation with a friend.

Responsible consumerism

Something that has been weighing on my mind lately is how we can be mindful of day to day choices that we make, so that what we invest in will empower what will be most rewarding to society. In the wake of the Trump presidency, John Oliver brought this up as well. He urges us to put our money where our mouths are and to support organisations which will need help under a Trump administration. Instead of simply sharing videos on social media and clicking like, he suggests that we exercise our social responsibility to affect change, something which aligns much more with the ideal of democracy than our current tendency to stand back and complain about the government whilst simultaneously depending on it to fail to make changes that will benefit us.