Light-hearted

My workplace recently organised a singing bowl meditation workshop on account of World Mental Health day. I get the intention. I had participated, not because I was asked to participate (multiple times) though. Anyway, given there were fewer yoga mats than people, we were practically on the floor (#1) in a meeting room that is in the middle of the workplace (#2), with some colleagues around (#3). Safe to say, I was not feeling particularly free and relaxed. The instructor, who spoke English with a Japanese accent, was walking us through the meditation. 

“Do you feel your heart is warm and open, or is it cold, closed and stiff?” 

I did not like this question, nor my answer. I somehow feel that my mind spends a lot of time rationalising everything I say and do, everything others say and do to me, and everything that happens around me as well. This is time and energy consuming! Wasteful too, as many a times there is irrationality to human behaviour. I should know that. However, it leaves little time for me to be present, aware of the moment as I am experiencing it, and not a lot of warmth makes its way. I had met an older woman at a Pink Ribbon walk last weekend, who asked me if I enjoy concerts. I said “no, I do not, they are too crowded and I do not enjoy that”. She goes, “oh that’s because you haven’t found the one you love”.  Quite unnecessary to point out on a Saturday evening, if you ask me. 

Some of my best interactions are with strangers though. After spending years with my AirPods attached to my ears at all times, I have started getting a little tired. I want to hear the normal world, and so I do. This involves overhearing a lot of conversations on public transport, not by choice. For example, I learnt a new word, “appertain” , because a lawyer was explaining it to her friend while on the bus seat behind me. It means “to belong to”. She also went on to explain how being a lawyer changes how she views the world, society and geopolitics. I also learnt that socialism had something to do with how Hong Kong is built, although I couldn’t catch the why; as the boisterous group of youngsters who were making the commentary were not sober enough to stick to that topic. Or the other time I was on a tram in Happy Valley and a sulky caucasian child and her Asian nanny sat next to me. I asked her what her name was, she tells me “two”. I asked how old she is, she says “one”. Turns out her name is Ella, although by the time she warmed up enough to start tapping my arm to play, I had learnt I am running horribly late for work and was mid-panic-mode. Sorry Ella, maybe next time when you’re three. 

I can’t believe it but I have run out of cafes, in Singapore and in HK. I mean sure, there are many more that I might not have been. In the context of my dietary restrictions and Instagram saved collection, I have managed to clear up quite a bit. So, last week I grabbed dinner at a Greek restaurant in HK instead, called Artemis and Apollo. I had a Greek mythology phase so the name piqued my interest. The food, not so much. Although I did get to hear Just the Two of Us sung entirely in (what I think is) Greek, so that was worth it. Before I knew it, I was at Changi again for my next flight to Kochi. Interestingly, I noticed more Singaporean passports than Indian passports among my co-passengers, which got me thinking of the earliest Malayali communities that settled in Singapore. Not for long, I didn’t think for long as these days I have mastered the art of knocking out into deep sleep before the pilot switches off the seatbelt sign.  

The occasion for the travel is Diwali. I am at home, with my family. I woke up to hot tea, and homemade sweets. We dressed up in new clothes and went to the temple, with the sound of fireworks in the background. Just for this week, my heart feels quite warm.