I meant to write sooner, and wanted to have the sort of reflection-type post I've made a habit doing the past years; and this time should be extra-mega right, end of a decade and all that (ohmygoshhh, a decade!).

But I fear I'm running out of time. There's about an hour left of 2019.

I feel sad to leave this year behind. I'm not quite sure yet what gives me this overall sentiment, but I feel like... this year has served me so well as a friend, and teacher. I thought last year was a learning milestone (god, the pain of 2018), and it definitely was -- but this year was a much kinder teacher. I feel somewhat that the turn of the year into a new decade is like stepping into a new world by myself, leaving a beloved teacher I'm not done learning from. At particular times this year, I feel like there were moments when I had been nudged, "See, you thought this, and it's actually this..." This beautiful, beautiful thing. And other similar kind, gentle nudges of, "See, you thought you couldn't, but you can..." Where I had thought of impossibilities, I had been slowly shown otherwise. See, and see, and see... until I felt a subtle happiness, and a hope that I never knew could appear in such form.

Thank You for allowing me to learn to trust the process,
and trust You.

This process; how do I summarise it most simply. We touched on it at book club, and I discussed it with E too. It's very easy to give lip service to the concept of faith and trusting the divine; but the delicate juggling of both work and trust is a skill painfully, painfully, earned and practised. And thenceforth necessarily and endlessly practised. Of the few friends I've talked to about this, it appears that where the skill has emerged, prior years and years of struggle had preceded. One swings from a despairing of fate, and then from an overly-exerted control of one's life (with accompanying emotional upheavals); but what it is that needs to be, is the careful dancing with the flow of life, that in-between space, where you don't control but neither do you relinquish a hold of the helm entirely; you just steer gently, just steer, and equanimity reigns.


Life is a series of moments, which one lives as if one were dancing, right now, around and around each passing instant. And when one happens to survey one's surroundings, one realises, 'I guess I've made it this far'. Among those who have danced the dance of the violin, there are people who stay the course and become professional musicians. Among those who danced the dance of the bar examination, there are people who become lawyers. There are people who have danced the dance of writing, and become authors. Of course, it also happens that people end up in entirely different places. But none of these lives came to an end 'en route'. It is enough if one finds fulfillment in the here and now one is dancing.

~ The Courage To Be Disliked, by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga

-- which as it turns out, has become a most precious book I will have to re-read on a regular basis.

2020, insya Allah, you will be similarly amazing in ways I can't imagine now. 💜💚💗

Happy New Year to you, reader!

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
        love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

💙

beautiful things make me cry

Fairly recently, I attended a spiritual gathering that was a cum-farewell party for a lady who I'd met about a year ago at a spiritual retreat. There was recitation of the Burdah in view of the Prophet s.a.w.'s birthday and mawlid; we prayed together in congregation; there was food to munch on; and then we had a go-around to give well-wishes to Lady A and her kids, who were leaving Singapore indefinitely for New Zealand, to do beautiful work there.

When the mic came round to me, I had stuff semi-constructed in my mind on what to say, but after two lines of speech -- the tears leaked out in torrents!!! ahahahhh. Lady A is totally an inspiring person and I had words to say to her that touched me deeply, but I'm hopeless; the moment I said them words, my emotions welled up like crazy and I could barely speak without shaking. I honestly don't know why I'm becoming increasingly like this. Everybody who went on that spiritual retreat has probably labeled me The Cry-er With Secret Issues, perhaps, hahahahaha, I don't know. This group of wonderful ladies has seen me in tears more than any group of friends (or perhaps even family!). I would attribute this to the purity of the space they create in the presence of their beautiful souls. (I told Lady A later in the night: It's your fault. Beautiful things make me cry.) Luckily, I salvaged that speech (because I didn't end up a complete mess of tears, unlike other times) and made myself think of the happy and funny times we had, and enumerated that instead.

Then again, I don't think anyone went home dry-eyed from that retreat, so maybe I'm not so much an anomaly. But generally, these few recent years, my emotional capacity has tripled or something. It gets utterly embarrassing, I am not kidding. I'm actually afraid to watch any even-remotely sad thing in front of other people, out of fear that I'll be crying like crazy and then they would wonder over my health. Haha, it's ridiculous.

Just the other day at Chit Chat Cafe (where we support persons with aphasia), the Aphasia Choir put on their very first performance, and then a caregiver gave her reflection on her husband's progress since his participation in the choir. After that, the music therapist came on to say a few words and got slightly emotional at how proud she was of the choir; I, in the audience, had to hide my face behind a piece of paper because the tears were uncontrollable. I need to learn to control the tears! Haha, seriously. I don't get it myself. I like the fact that maybe I'm learning to be more empathic.... but!!! I have decided I should not speak on birthdays or weddings or any sort of commemorative gathering, unless I'm ready to cry in front of an audience.

Speaking of which...

This made me cry AGAIN tonight.

Kim Namjoon, you special human being.

The number of people you inspire.

---

The year is reaching its end, and we're approaching a special-numbered year!

2020; 

everytime I think it, I remember the catchphrase from Malaysian TV, 

years ago when I was a small child: Wawasan 2020! 

God, as we step into a new decade,

let my heart grow to contain all that is beautiful and true of Your creation.

Help me put my full trust and faith in You, and help me see even more beauty

in this world, and insya Allah, the next.

I've been feeling how strange it is, that the bigger and truer the love,

the more detached it is from this world.

The more it is released into the universe, into Your hands.

The less I write, the less I know how to, it seems.

It's a struggle to get the right words out; 

then I remind myself, 

inspiration is not a valve you switch on. 

It's more like the rainbow you wait around for, 

amidst/after the rain.

It already says something, that I manage to blog only because I've fallen ill enough to have MC for three days consecutively. It crept up on me slowly, but my exhaustion levels are reaching the roof; and it's a long, deep-seated tiredness that's not really about how many hours of sleep I get at night. It's about the need for replenishing in a soul sense, I guess. I want to revisit Kamikochi, for instance, and breathe in the pure, clean air, away from the harried-ness of this city life I live, that seems to be all about haveyou's and whyhaventyou's and shouldntyou's. I want to live life with a lightness, and a peace, and a deep love and gratitude, with no concern for timelines and social rank or status or money-making schemes. I am aware it is not impossible to keep a state of mind like this despite the environment, but it's so bloody hard.

Hence I am noting this down here (I've already noted it down on a hardcopy notebook):

Fighting Your Shadows

1) Recognise what your shadows are

2) Don't get complacent about the shadows (especially when you're in a good place and think you've fought them all off); how do you usually keep up the light? Do those things!

3) Shadows will come at your Achilles heel, or the crack in your armour; it WILL happen

4) Partner with other souls on the soul growth journey

(Courtesy of a youtube podcast I was listening to.)

This was lovely.

And as we swam, or played, or talked, a feeling would come. It was almost like fear, in the way it filled me, rising in my chest. It was almost like tears, in how swiftly it came. But it was neither of those, buoyant where they were heavy, bright where they were dull. I had known contentment before, brief snatches of time in which I pursued solitary pleasure: skipping stones or dicing or dreaming. But in truth, it had been less a presence than an absence, a laying aside of dread: my father was not near, nor boys. I was not hungry, or tired, or sick.

This feeling was different. I found myself grinning until my cheeks hurt, my scalp prickling till I thought it might lift off my head. My tongue ran away from me, giddy with freedom. This and this and this, I said to him. I did not have to fear that I spoke too much. I did not have to worry that I was too slender or too slow. This and this and this! I taught him how to skip stones, and he taught me how to carve wood. I could feel every nerve in my body, every brush of air against my skin.

He played my mother's lyre, and I watched. When it was my turn to play, my fingers tangled in the strings and the teacher despaired of me. I did not care. "Play again," I told him. And he played until I could barely see his fingers in the dark.

I saw then how I had changed. I did not mind anymore that I lost when we raced and I lost when we swam out to the rocks and I lost when we tossed spears or skipped stones. For who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty? It was enough to watch him win, to see the soles of his feet flashing as they kicked up sand, or the rise and fall of his shoulders as he pulled through the salt. It was enough.

~ The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Self-worth; it's not tied to anything external. Not your body, not your house, not your income, not your family, not your lineage, not the amount of money you have or don't have in your bank account, not the grades you got or didn't get, the schools you went to or didn't get into, the certificates you attained or failed to, the job or career you wanted or never managed to, the marriage you have or have not, the children you have or have not, the lovers you found or never did. None of that makes you.

What will be interred with your bones -- that's you.

You have value because you're human.
And that's enough.
Thank God for the life you've been given,
and the chance to knock on heaven's door.



We had a book club meeting tonight, when we started discussing vulnerability (our text was Brene Brown, so duh, haha). And we reflected.

I had a little epiphany tonight: I realize that, no matter how justified, no matter how right I was in my anger, it never felt good in the end. The cause of my upset might even still persist; but my let's-assume-thoroughly-justified anger only serves to exacerbate the negatives. It truly does nothing to improve the situation. I find that in the end, it's not worth the fall-out, or the hurt feelings of the other party. Which leaves one with the question of having to still deal with injustice... but perhaps in the wisest, kindest, and best possible way?

I think it's like that thing about integrity I read about before:

If you fail to confront, you will lose.If you confront poorly, you will also lose.
So, you must confront, but confront well.

That means that the truth-telling side of your character
must be integrated with the loving and caring side of your character.
When you show up to deal with a problem,
you must bring both of them together.
Confront the problem, but in a way that
preserves the relationship and the person.

Honesty without love is not integrity.


I think we spoke about this too, just yesterday at book club: people in general (or we were thinking Singaporeans the worst of the lot, haha) have such an issue telling others clearly and honestly about a problem. Instead, when we see something we dislike or hate or frown upon, we call management and make a complaint, write a letter in the papers, gossip and backbite etc. etc., instead of just telling the person in question, "Excuse me, could you _____? It really upsets me." And the problem would be settled then and there. Instead, we go around some crazy bush and stir up issues greater than the original, and in the worst case scenario, we have a war on our hands. We all hate it, when it comes to us in some roundabout way that we did XYZ wrong or such-and-such person dislikes us; so let's be honest and kind from the get-go. Have the kindest and most generous assumptions of people, and tell them when they're stepping on your toes. Don't step on my toes, okay? You can stand this close, but not on my toes. And I hope people would do that in return, so I can also, say, "So sorry, I didn't mean to step on your toes!" It comes up again and again, how true it is, that true compassion and generosity can only be sustained with the clearest boundaries.


La taghdab, la taghdab, la taghdab.
God, help me be kind and strong.

I had dinner out with K tonight, a friend I hadn't seen and sat down with for quite a while (the busy lives we live as an excuse). And I don't know, some part of me from the past came back, maybe, in a mostly good way... I just felt a different exuberance when I got home. And then felt the urge to write. Which is something obviously I have left behind for a while.

It's not like it's been a year since my last post (it's only last month); but it is certainly far longer than that since I have had the process of just sitting and writing -- people seem to think the writing of a short post or long post or however length of writing it is, is just a quick typing out of words on a screen. It is emphatically not. It is a stewing, a brewing (haha), a long communion of some sort with my inner thoughts until at some point I feel properly satisfied with the authenticity of what I wish to convey within any moment in time. And the reality is, this takes times; lots and lots of it. I used to spend hours and hours rereading what I wrote, rereading what I read, thinking over what I thought until some level of catharsis is fulfilled. And the reality is? Obviously this is a luxury. But perhaps it is also at some level a necessity?

I don't know. (A necessity because... this is me. This is necessarily me and how I've been routed round to this point in my life.)

My doing this now feels like some sort of revitalization inside me, like a rediscovery of some part of myself that had always truly served me. And this seemingly circular process brings to my mind the nature of... reality? time? fate? (And currently I am obviously utterly influenced by the 12 Monkeys tv show which is absolutely gripping with its insane time-travel concepts.) It's just... I've been contemplating how true it is, that we create the very problems we attempt to solve; that as you go through life, and pay attention to the subtle details, you realize there are patterns that you are living out and perhaps, the beauty of life is when you catch a glimpse of how the dots connect. And that then proves the existence of something even more beautifully organized and planned.

To put in simpler layman terms, people would say: God has a plan for you. You can roll your eyes at the cliche if you're not spiritually-inclined, but what a beauty it is to catch moments when there seems to be something manifestly greater.

It's like that line scattered repeatedly throughout the Symbol and Archetype book that I'm currently chewing on:

I was a Hidden Treasure, and I loved to be known,
so I created the world.

Help me pay attention to the details.
Help me see things as they are.
Help me have faith and trust when I can't see.



I sometimes really wish I talked more about my outer life as much as my inner one, because we do both, don't we. But I'm so inwardly focused, I forget to balance it out. In real earth-life today, in addition to running around SG serving therapy cases, I placed my foot into a shoe that contained a cockroach -- (let your horror and disgust sink in). This was a historical moment for me, I'm sure. I am surprised I didn't react more violently; but I did remain barefooted under a block of flats in Bukit Merah knocking my shoe repeatedly long after the roach had left it, shuddering at the thought that my skin made contact. The funny bit was, I was torn between processing the reality that it really didn't feel all that bad and the horrifying thought that I had made contact with it to begin with. Something in the mind often becomes amplified a hundred times than the earthly version of it. It's scarier in your head, nicer in your head, more beautiful, more awesome; and we wonder what's real. (And I don't mean this sarcastically.)

If one refers to Plato's realism, or perhaps Islamic mysticism (I've yet to truly delve into this), all earthly representations are merely reflections of the bigger and greater Real. So the ability to perceive beauty in something mundane, and feeling overawed by it, is you connecting with a true beauty in the cosmos, or the Ultimate Beauty (i.e. God again). To be felled over by the beauty of a landscape or even a person, or to be severely repelled by a crime, is a reflection of our responses to the bigger abstractions of Beauty and Evil.

Okay I shall say goodnight now before I keep spiraling down this rabbithole.
Why do I do this, haha. I will confuse myself and I will confuse you.

Oyasumi!

I'm back from my disappearing act! I haven't been absent for this long in a while --
I've been delving deeper into (mind-boggling) books, and thinking over and over
and incubating my thoughts -- thinking about writing here but not; until now.

And even now, I have nothing but a little excerpt that stood out to me as I work through this mind-bending book about Women who run with the wolves: Stories and Myths about the Wild Woman archetype. This book gives a whole new meaning to woman's intuition. It has led me further down this twisty rabbit-hole about the psyche; I recently got for myself another book called Symbol and Archetype (by Martin Lings) and I don't know half the time what I'm reading, haha.


I've really come to appreciate more of this yin-yang balance stuff though; this is fascinating. We intuitively know there's something masculine and feminine in each of us, and for the woman, it could be thus:

Wild Woman is the driver, the animus hustles up the vehicle. She makes the song, he scores it. She imagines, he offers advice. Without him the play is created in one's imagination, but never written down and never performed. Without him the stage may be filled to bursting, but the curtains never part and the marquee remains dark.

If we were to translate the healthy animus into Spanish metaphor, he would be el agrimensor, the surveyor, who knows the lay of the land and with his compass and his thread measures the distance between two points. He defines the edges and establishes boundaries. Also call him el jugador, the gamesman, the one who studies and knows how to and where to place the marker to gain or to win. These are some of the most important aspects of a robust animus.

So the animus travels the road between two territories and sometimes three: underworld, inner world and outer world. All a woman's feelings and ideas are bundled up and carted across those spans -- in every direction -- by the animus, who has a feeling for all worlds. He brings ideas from "out there" back into her, and he carries ideas from her soul-Self across the bridge to fruition and "to market". Without the builder and maintainer of this land bridge, a woman's inner life cannot be manifested with intent in the outer world.

...

The key aspect to a positive animus development is actual manifestation of cohesive inner thoughts, impulses, and ideas. 


Oh, what rich internal lives we all live, mostly in complete obliviousness.

We shall show them Our signs on the horizons and in themselves. (Al-Quran XLI: 53), 
~ Symbol and Archetype, Martin Lings

I was sitting at dal.komm at the new Funan Mall today,
(I absolutely love cafes and wish we could keep having them
sprouting up in increasingly gorgeous or interesting spots)
while waiting for my cousin's movie screening at The Substation nearby
-- and I had the urge to test out my psychic feeling with E
(who entertains all my ridiculous ideas) and so texted her:
"I'm doing my psychic experiment now. Are you at Marina Square?"


hahaaaa. no, she wasn't. I really thought I would flip if she was, hehe.

I'm envious of E a little cause I actually really think she might be (at-least-better-than-baseline-mediocre-human level) psychic; and yet she's the one who cautiously entertains my excited forays into reading about all this crazy, intriguing stuff (my current reading detour: Second Sight). That is not the point however; the point is that we all apparently have a capacity to connect to this force or have bizarre experiences that make us stop -- that make us once in a while, at least acknowledge the existence of a greater power (i.e. God?) or a mystical level of existence that our poor limited minds can barely wrap around.

Anyway -- despite the fact that my psychic experiment failed today,
I am posting this song that popped into my head while I was brushing my teeth earlier.
It came unbidden, random, but perhaps significant...

as I slowly realise how the lyrics
make unbelievable sense years after I heard it as a child.

The secret is to go with the mystery. When a situation doesn't make immediate sense, a larger overall message may appear if you let it unfold naturally. This doesn't mean you should put yourself in circumstances that are potentially destructive. You need to stay alert, use your head, know when to walk away. But you must also try not to discount or underestimate the implications of synchronous events.

-- Second Sight by Judith Orloff


💗

I think the problem occurs when your ego or desires
interfere with the unfolding of events.

Chill, S.

this difficult space

I've been trying to learn patience...

the patience to sustain oneself in a difficult space,

trusting that as I keep calmly walking,

the way will appear.

Now be silent.

Let the One who creates the words speak.

He made the door.

He made the lock.

He also made the key.

~ Rumi

As you start to walk on the way,

the way appears.

~ Rumi

I'm reminded of the time E and I were sitting at dinner at Encik Tan;

and E (and perhaps me too, I can't quite remember)

was not in a good state; in retrospect, my gosh, that was

a difficult space. It almost brings tears to my eyes, just thinking

about how painful some things in this life are and how humans necessarily struggle.

It's one of those interesting conundrums: is it possible to be human and not struggle?

Fast forward to today, Alhamdulillah, I feel that whatever constriction there was then has gone. But then I realise, of course, life is a series of expansions and constrictions, isn't it? Here comes the next wave in this life. (At this point, I actually paused and looked up expansions and constrictions in Islam, because I was sure it was mentioned in the Quran -- it is: 2:245 "God constricts (the heart) and expands it."; but a little further reading and my brain started melting trying to understand Islamic mysticism.)

Life is a series of constrictions and expansions.

Also apparently, your constrictions and expansions are proportionate.

A painful constriction is insya Allah a prelude to a cathartic expansion.

so S, it's just a difficult space for the moment.

Constriction is a gripping of the heart, an experience analagous to fear, but far more intense in that it is an experience of something immediate, in the present. Expansion is a dilation, a feeling of peace or well-being, again intensified down into the immediate present.

...

These two states (constriction and expansion) arise after the servant has risen beyond the condition of fear and hope. Constriction is to the master as fear is to the beginner. Expansion is to the master as hope is to the beginner.

~ Qushayri, Early Islamic Mysticism by Michael A. Sells

oh my heart,

this song

Tonight, I spent some time thinking again, how constant a need it is to grieve one's idea of people; or maybe, it's especially an issue with idealistic people like me. I'm waaaay better now than I used to be, but it's like one of those cyclical lessons in life: not to expect love the way you want it to be. Or at a simpler, more micro level, to have people be as considerate as you feel you would be or could be. But damn, I'll always have bad days right, when I can't take it anymore and can't someone else just suffer instead, just for once, for once! Why do I have to be the kind one, why. Some days I'm just really tired; really, really, really tired.

I'm reminded of Lymond now: 

"Today, if you must know, I don't like living at all. 

But that's just immaturity boggling at the sad face of failure. 

Tomorrow I'll be bright as a bed bug again."

And then I was mentioning to E, that this must be why we love heroes so much.

To believe that there could be someone 

who was always kind,

always steady,

always to be relied on.

Someone I don't have to grieve.

please be brave

💜

I would love to be at a table with these two people,

just listening to them talk. In fact, that's exactly what Russell Brand

let's us do -- except I think the full podcast isn't available in Singapore! guh.

don't let fear consume you.

I thought that I'd conquered a lot of fears and demons in recent times;

but then the other day, I caught myself deliberately choosing not to be vulnerable;

in the situation, it felt perfectly okay for me not to be fully honest or not to reveal my deepest feelings. but in doing so, I projected an image of unflappability (successfully or not) and of an iron-nail-strength-independent woman. in that very moment, wonderfully, thankfully, I became aware of my doing this. 

And it made me pause. It is not that my being strong was false. I had very strong opinions and a clear sense of direction about what needed to be done and where my boundaries were (said vehemently added to the overall effect). The situation will not faze me. However, my lack in expressing my feelings of fear and sadness and disappointment and dashed hopes with regard to the situation contributed to that false dichotomy that strength must be devoid of fear and sentiment. As though the heartless Iron Lady stereotype needed reinforcing.

Don't, S. Soft front, strong back, remember? True courage, as we've heard repeated, is not the absence of fear but the acknowledgement that something else is more important than fear. Why then do I feel the need to be emotionless to do scary things.

Just go in, guns blazing, screaming, ohmygod this is so scary!!! 

(I'm picturing Dean Winchester as I typed this, haha.)

I'm terrified but I will --

I'm afraid you'll hate me but I will --

What if I fail, but I will --

What if I die, but I will --

do what needs to be done.

This came serendipitously to me tonight --

dear S,

trust God.

The clouds of goodness contain rain,

and when the time comes it will pour.

I feel like I should be reporting my presence or something so --

Selamat Hari Raya!



It's been a while since raya celebrations actually started -- but I feel very much detached from all social media platforms these days so I don't post anywhere about it; but then I come here intermittently (the only faithful online thing I've done for more than half my life now) and then realise that maybe I should post the requisite announcements or greetings. So yes, Eid Mubarak to my faithful, familiar, and awesome blogosphere!

Opening with these comments has nicely given me a segue into the bigger topic of what the online world means to me lately -- which is that it has reverted back to its early steady state years and years ago: that is -- the internet is basically a place I consume. But I don't contribute half as much (unless you count this blog). In the early (somewhat ancient) days of my discovery of the internet when I was a tween, it served as a place to satiate my curiosity and my fangirling -- and that is what it has utterly returned to. I come to the internet to learn stuff, find out stuff, and fangirl. And mostly nothing else. And I love it this way. It is much healthier, and I am much happier.

Social media is just not my thing, I think. I don't like what it forces me to do socially, and I'm much the happier not doing it at all. I pondered just briefly the other day -- that the closest people I have in my life barely make a blip on my social online radar. They are my closest, precious friends, and you would not know that by their lack of presence... on my Facebook timeline, say. We don't post pictures, we don't share our conversations or our 'moments' -- but they mean the world to me. I like it this way. Maybe I'm possessive, maybe I don't think my friends and I should be ogled at or worth ogling, I don't know. But I like the idea that my precious stuff is kept precious and away from public consumption.

In connection to this, I have also, perhaps regrettably, stopped posting photo albums on Facebook, which was made much easier by their album posting functions. I don't like the idea anymore. I'm drawn back to the idea of doing hard copy albums now -- although I am painfully and slowly struggling with the printing of my Japan photos (much less my Paris-Istanbul photos)! I feel like... I want to keep beautifying my physical space, and work on having more tangible beautiful things in my life, and really live more real... like, keep the real stuff with the real stuff, and cyber space with cyber amorphous information floating as electromagnetic waves. You know? Real relationships as real human relationships, and the internet as an information repository.

You could say that I should chill -- I'll have to throw my hands up at that, haha! I can't help being mostly an intense person. I think it comes as a package with the whole romantic-bookworm-therapist-blogger personality, which is mostly a wonderful thing I'm learning, so I won't trash on myself.

Anyway!

---

Because it was Ramadan and I had to fast a little on the fangirling too,

I couldn't post these, but I really really want to now.

This is my favourite BTS US TV appearance to date!

They did a Beatles-themed thing, quite tastefully,

and this is just all sorts of adorable.
(On the couch, they were asked which Beatles song they liked:
I totally squealed in laughter
when they belted out the tune of Hey Jude together.
I love these hilarious boys.)

The Persona album took quite some time to grow on me actually,

but I really love it now. I have a listen of the entire album for a pick-me-up, especially after work.

Listening to Boy with Luv makes me feel really really happy; it's such an amazing bop!

I do love the deep, epic pieces that BTS had done previously,

and I am a huge sucker for the tragic;

but the sweet, happy meaning of Boy with Luv really sunk its claws in me slowly.

Also, this is my newest favourite on the album now,

so awesomely performed here:

---

On a separate note before I end this crazy long post --

I've been reading mind-blowing books 

(I am really not exaggerating okay, although I am typically wont to):

The Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton and then The Orchid and The Dandelion by Thomas Boyce.

Both of these give such revelations about the nature of humans in general

and question what we have or don't have power over in our lives. It's fascinating, and truly exciting.

Your life is a printout of your subconscious behaviour.

Did you hear him say "picture in your mind" twice in the video? Omgggggg.

Talk about synchronicity (see my official blog name). You deserve to be on my blog, video clip.

Another synchronous event was when I had started reading The Orchid and The Dandelion,

and was starting to be mindblown by the whole orchid profile, 

(and also the whole permeability idea overlapping between the two books!)

and then ended up with a pot of (fake) orchids to be placed in my room this hari raya.

Initially I had set my eyes on the peonies, but then my mother whined that she wanted them;

I sulked for a moment, until I realised that she wanted to shove the orchids on me.

I paused for a beat -- Orchids? They are orchids! Okay, I'll have them.

Orchid humans of the world, I have a soft spot for you.

I may be a little orchid myself, but I certainly love some orchids in my life. 

And my orchid therapy children! 💜

two wings to fly

If you want to become whole, let yourself be partial;
if you want to become straight, let yourself be crooked;
if you want to become full, let yourself be empty;
if you want to be reborn, let yourself die.

If you want to be given everything,
give everything up.

-- Tao Te Ching, The Book of the Way


This reminds me of:

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites
so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.

-- Rumi


And apparently, these too:

And of everything we have created pairs; that you may receive instruction.

-- Al-Quran 51:49

Exalted is He who created everything in pairs -- from what the earth grows and from themselves and from that which they do not know.

-- Al-Quran 36:36

Your dreams need a practical plan,

S.

Happy Ramadhan!

Ohmy, it's halfway through the fasting month,

and it's rushing by like a blur as always.

I really have been finding it increasingly hard to find appropriate pockets of time to blog;

or my blogging moments don't happen felicitously such that I am able to pen down thoughts more promptly. Life is hard but good; I have been feeling grateful and good -- battling inner and outer demons (haha, perhaps not so literally) with more and more grace and confidence. One of the things I am most grateful for? The ability to perceive the big picture. Alhamdulillah! So that even impossibly difficult things, insya Allah, reveal their gems to me.

I have learnt very, very valuable lessons that I secretly think a lot of people will hardly ever get to learn. I feel like I have been put through the wringer, and have surfaced with pearls that I jealously clam, because they're precious, and who else will understand how I've received them? I caress them secretly, deep in my pockets where no one knows, giving me a sense of joy, comfort, and a hope for further treasures. It is a strange feeling to be truly and deeply happier than people think you are. Perhaps this is the sweetness that was spoken of; that makes the tangible outside world blur into the background, and all that's left for you is this sweetness, and the sweetness of waiting for more.

insya Allah. Trust in God over everything else and....

ganbatte, S!

this is very cool interesting stuff --

also, I love how my wide reading habits allow me to match content

that overlaps over authors, genres, and fields;

it leads to gasps of recognition and more adept resonance with truths.

(insya Allah!)

I've only learnt to truly feel my feelings and immerse myself in them fairly recently; 

it is truly a skill to allow oneself to feel, and then subsequently to act accordingly.

What we often do instead is rationalise, deny, and suppress,

to fit into the surroundings or expectations we think we should conform to.

It's okay to feel angry,

but not okay to retaliate out of anger.

When it comes to anger, I am often reminded of a story (this is totally a rephrase from my memory, therefore a gist, and not a hadith word-for-word recall FYI!): Sayidina Ali r.a. was about to behead someone on the battlefield who had spat at him out of rudeness -- then Sayidina Ali r.a. paused, and changed his mind. This of course bewildered the man in question, who asked, "Why do you not kill me?" And Sayidina Ali r.a. replied, "If I had killed you, I would have done it for me instead of God."

Right action is choice! Not suppression per se. And the thing about anger is that of course it is a cover for hurt (as the girl in this video rightly mentioned). So feel the anger, feel the hurt, the grief; sit with it and feel it. (Bawl your eyes out if you have to, like I did.) Then decide your course of action. I think it is very, very real and true, that when your hurt is not acknowledged, it comes out, in Brene Brown's words, as shit (pardon my language) that you work out on other people. It is very, very difficult to take the higher road; hurt is valid. Humans feel pain; we are only human. But it is incredibly important that pain is processed and acknowledged -- otherwise it transmutes into something else, guys. In the extreme, something possibly dangerous like psychopathic mass murderers and terrorist acts (sorry for being dramatic hehe, but this is not untrue).

I've been learning that the ability to process pain and emotions as a whole, is so important and incredibly underestimated as a skill. Emotional intelligence is as essential in life, if not more so, than general intelligence. (In fact, it might be a fallacy to think that intelligence can be broken down this way. I feel like actually the most intelligent people in the world, are also the most emotionally sensitive and adept.)

God, allow me to grow and overcome these spiritual struggles.

Give me the strength to believe in the rainbow after the storm.

An aside:

I'm realising that the moment I feel like

yes, I think I've got a grip!

God sends along the next test.

Haha.

Ya Allah, be kind to me.

I have too much to learn.