It’s been 5 weeks since I’ve left Norwich on the very same date I arrived a year ago. Returning so abruptly feels like climbing through jagged creeks in suffocating heat, but I am now about 7.5/9 in Singapore, 0.5 lost elsewhere. There’s a 1.0 straddling a liminal space in which some clarity is slowly twisting into form. My days now are full of uncertainty but also full with people. For that, I am grateful. I do not think it easy to find humans who make you realise it is possible to be yourself. Time with them keeps me focused on the larger picture, in both heart and mind. Advertisements
Earlier this week, I had 45 minutes with Honor Harger for a profile piece, which you can read here. It brought me to an undiscovered universe of inquiry into and around intersections of art and science, as well as the undivorced roles of technology and culture. I’ve been trying to learn more through articles, research papers, podcasts, even sitting through videos—not an easy feat for an ADD kid. I won’t deny it. I’m totally geeking out. An example: About 37 years ago, Joy Division released their debut album Unknown Pleasures with a sleeve design that is pretty iconic: This is actually a reversal of the visual representation of the successive pulses from CP1919, the first pulsar discovered in 1967. Seeing the original image presented by Honor during her TEDxSingapore talk (without reference to Joy Division) was another geek-out moment for me.
There are often too many thoughts swirling at the same time. Here are some of them:
When something bad happens, my first instinct is to find solutions. I’ll try different things till there’s change. No matter what, I will try. In the same vein, I’m not good at sympathy. My way of caring is to listen and suggest how things could be made better. But this reliance on “solutions” backfires when things just don’t improve. Frustration mounts. And you realise you’ve exhausted your strategies. Then what? This year, I chose to focus on siting with discomfort. To accept that things are just plain shitty at times. And that’s okay. That’s fine. I don’t have to enwrap myself into a ball of tension because of that. I don’t have to make things better. I don’t have to then get on my own case for not being able to make things better. The first bad day of the year came around early January. It was one of those days when a niggling sort of knowing follows you out the door. Strategies that usually help—like food and exercise—don’t. It almost feels like waking up is the mistake.