8 April, 2014 § Leave a comment
9 March, 2014 § Leave a comment
10 November, 2013 § Leave a comment
Endured an unstimulating week in the workplace comprised of moments of banality that could make flowers wilt. After all, only that much exertion and adventure is involved when one puts lead to paper to mark for the 26th time “(which consent shall not be unreasonably withheld or delayed)”.
My mind does not handle being repressed well. The response is an upsurge of a violent desire to be reckless and abandon the world, and the duties and regularities that are a corollary to modern life and consumption. It calls out to the imagination to be saved from a state of mere existence. It craves for something new to reestablish that connection with the universe.
There is little I can do about this situation when I am still struggling to figure out how to use my compass without a destination. So I take walks through the city and take bus rides to savour the journey. To make myself feel like I am heading somewhere with a hidden purpose.
After all, we must all seek out something in a lifetime. That which will draw us to, and draw from us, the fire that illuminates this human condition.
My favourite walk is predictable: Alighting at a back alley on the fringe of the heart of the business district after sunset, past a sleeping Chinese temple, cross the road through a lobby with a frightful Dali sculpture of a man mangled by time, a moment to say hi to the Botero bird in bronze that seems pleased with himself in every moment, and to stand quietly to take in the sight of the handsome Fullerton Hotel with the romance of the majestic rain trees and the Anderson steel suspension bridge across which bullock carts once traversed. Then through the tunnel towards the waterfront and my favourite concert hall.
This time, before the end of the tunnel, I am caught in a moment of serendipity. A moment that obliterated all the noise and grime that had found its way into my heart during the week.
15 September, 2013 § Leave a comment
“He kept isolating himself. Every bridge he built, he burnt. And I understood why at times, because he is on a trajectory that’s different from other people. And, because of that, he can’t form those human relationships that other organisations have. And that is tragic.” ( The peculiar charm of Benedict Cumberbatch, http://gu.com/p/3tk3p)
Those words hit home in a poignant way. Is this the reason I always clamour to be alone – surrounded by bridges on all sides, above and under, yet never able to trust enough to venture across one. And so I apply myself to reclaiming the solid ground around me, so there will not be a need to traverse that boundary. All the while, the surrounding waters get deeper as the boundaries move to meet the open sea.
Which is more terrifying – to take a chance with the bridge or with the ocean? I cannot say for sure.
1 September, 2013 § Leave a comment
I was feeling apprehensive about the company getaway at a foreign island that required me to spend 3 days with more than 100 humans. Not so much because I could not handle them, but because they might feel uncomfortable by my ability to tune the world (and them) out. In other words, I was concerned that they might not be able to handle silence.
I too find silence a challenge. The world in my head is never silent; awash with colour and rhythm and sounds, and if I am less fortunate, noise. It is a bit of a double-edged situation – I am at once porous and permeable to everything around me (for that is the aspect of me that perceives everything indiscriminately); at once needing to exert a countervailing force to keep noise on the outside. The stronger the perceptive force, the stronger the resistance required.
Being around people is tiring. I cannot stop taking in information. Too much stimulus. I end up feeling desperate for stillness.
There was a time I thought that if I could find silence I would find stillness, but it all actually works the other way. When a moment of stillness finds me, the world and all its noise falls away (of its own accord requiring no effort whatsoever). There is in that space only me and that which has captured my gaze completely.
Stillness happens sometimes when we are face-to-face with beauty. Beauty that is at once humanly indescribable and devastatingly temporal; and this confluence silences the noise inside in an instance, slows all bodily and cognitive processes to its minimum; places you inside this infinite space of connectedness. Takes your breath away.
Ever so fortunate that I have nature for company no matter where I am, I have two special souvenirs from the trip – a glorious sunset and my very first upside down rainbow.
14 July, 2013 § Leave a comment
And so the new journey has begun.
After 2 weeks, it remains unclear whether the journey is trying to keep up with me or if I am in a whirl trying to make sense of it.
Increasingly I clamour to be alone, to have only my thoughts for company. This neurosis has returned stronger than before. It uses the force of will, made stronger with time, to reconfigure the external environment and establish that one-way mirror through which I gaze upon the world.
I am changed. I have to figure out what this means.
Perhaps that is why Fromm has found his way to me.