A mac between two windows

Restored when you revisit -
refreshed the pane stares back at you.

Through the looking glass
what once felt a bittersweet torture -
the years apart -
has become
a lopsided work of art.

Letting go of what you love is hard but sometimes necessary

Lying in the dark
I can't sleep caffeinated
Reminder to self

Little Things With Great Love

"God does not call us all to great things, but calls us to do small things with great love." 

-Mother Teresa

Trying to soothe the chronic feeling of inadequacy with the balm of reminding myself that I am enough. I am reminded that it is not about how I want to fashion myself and serve my own ambition, but it is truly that I am His work, and I am fashioned according to his exact purposes.

Today, conversation turned to a hawker who worked from 6am to 10pm frying char kway teow and happily drove his Mercedes to work every day. Then, to a multi-millionaire businessman who, in university, made many friends, enjoyed life, and was mostly having his homework done for him by his more intellectual friends. Then, to someone who loved fiddling with watches, and now consults with top watchmaking companies.

Char kway teow

One capitalised on his culinary skills and became a hawker. Even though he may not be widely acknowledged with a Michelin star, the people who know of him appreciate his work, and he is the local's secret.

The other capitalised on his social intelligence, in working through the system to achieve their own ends, and became a businessman. He followed his interest in people, in talking to others, in managing money and making profit. He might not be as famous and high-profile as Bill Gates, but I doubt that was what he wanted.

All three pursued their passion. Did they know what they wanted? Yet each person created space in their lives to keep doing what they were passionate about.

Every moment of our day, every opportunity that comes our way, we are equipped with the sum of our experiences, skills, temperament and character, and we are leveraging this to move forward. Formally or informally, we are carving our own training pathways, and creating our own opportunities.

Too introverted. Too weak. Bad sleeper. Overthinking again. A litany of deprecation that never ends. I realise that everything is relative, and these weaknesses don't just mean that I am not cut out for something. It means I am better cut out for something else. When it comes to what I want, I would be a fool to think I know what that is.

What I do know is what I am passionate about. God. Loved ones. Writing. Dance. Health.

I realise that His grace is sufficient for me. I am reminded that all I can do is do what I can, with as much love as I can muster. Appreciate what I have. Make the most of the opportunities that lie before me.

I look at the love that I have, and the love that I have not, and lay it all before the one who loves me more than I can conceive of love.

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” 

-Matt 11:29-30 NIV

Deconstructing performativity: What is art?

After class with Natalie Allen, the warm-down discussion of the day was dance workshops recently attended. Natalie described how in one of them, one of the tasks was to take something from someone that you wanted.

She described how a fellow participant took her wedding ring, and her emotional response; how she had to tell herself that this was a task, and she would eventually get it back.

The human state of being vulnerable to have something taken from you, being vulnerable to give is laid bare here. The difference between giving and stealing here is made clear - it is a matter of consent. When someone takes something from you, when it is consensual, it is a gift. When someone takes something from you when it is non-consensual, it is stolen.

When someone takes something from you during a task where you are instructed to allow it, is that really consensual? Is the consent inherent by consenting to the context? In the context of attending a dance workshop, perhaps yes. But did she really know what she was getting into before that? As a larger reflection on our human condition, do we really consent to the environment we are in? Do we know what we are getting ourselves into? I recently found out that in certain cultural contexts, if you expressed admiration of something someone else had, they were obliged to give it to you.

Out of all belongings, taking someone's wedding ring is loaded.

Superficially, the ring is of value - it beautiful, or precious. The object of desire. Its value reflects our deeply-rooted cultural understanding and valuation of marriage. The impulse of taking that from someone else perhaps reveals our biological drive for a mate, and the ongoing narrative of competition that is involved in the process of mate selection. Or at a metaphysical level, the desire for deep and meaningful connection with someone else.

The tradition of the wedding ring, something to be worn at all times rather than kept away, opens itself to the vulnerability of theft. The symbol of the wedding ring, as a public declaration of the married state, should theoretically shield you from unwanted advances. Yet, human nature being what it will, opens up a reverse psychological driver.

That right there. Performance art.

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.