Conversation about god - I

Even though I may not have realised it earlier, I think I gave up on religion a long time ago.

There is something about assigning truth to a certain belief and implying such belief as above others which I don't agree with. Over time, I had learned faith is all-inclusively a personal, irrational, and at the same time a conscious endeavour.

There is always a reason why people believe in something, and why they don't - and the consequent conclusion to it is simply, to each their own.

Once on our way home while walking under a clear moonlight by the Coogee beach, my housemate asked me; "do you believe in god?". I raised my eyes, my two brows knitted together. Feeling a bit offended, I said, "what do you think I'm wearing the headscarf for?". He chuckled, and gave me a look which says, 'come on, don't fool yourself'

Later in the night, I was left deep in my own thoughts. I realised everything religious I've been doing all these while had been nothing but ornamental. They were simply a territorial mark, a conventional stamp which licensed me to function as a normal individual in my society.

I asked myself, since when did I make the conscious choice to believe, to submit myself to a particular religion or a school of thoughts - I thought long and hard, and I couldn't remember.

From that moment on; every rituals, every services I perform in the name of religion lost their meaning.

Some thoughts on happiness (or how to make your run productive)

In the morning I willed myself out of bed and went for a quick run in my neighbourhood. I've set myself a 3.4 km route as a baseline to time my run, my aim is to get 20 minutes or less before I could increase my distance to 5 km.

While running I thought about how many of us has distorted the meaning of happiness. We think they come only in specific forms; a wish fulfilled, a gift bestowed, as love deserved, or company shared. In reality, I think happiness can be found despite it all;

Sometimes in our loneliness we find happiness in being at peace and accepting what a fragile thing a relationship is. Sometimes in mourning for our loss we find lessons to be humble about letting go of things we own. Sometimes by being denied of our wish we find how minute we are as human beings and how out of control we are of our fate, how sometimes there are always larger and bigger things at play which we know and understand very little of.

Feeling like the sun is smiling at me as it breaks free from the cloud in the morning sky, sharing my milk with the friendly black and white cat who is living in the playground at my apartment, discovering what great music is in Hybrid, Elsiane's debut album, sharing a laugh with my independent, ambitious and inspiring girlfriends, and feeling a tug of longing and familiarity at the thought of someone near - these are what happiness means to me today. What's yours?

Where I was

I was sitting in a cafe with a completely generic and superficial setting. There was no music, let alone beautiful books. A hyperactive boy was throwing rocks off the shop's decor onto the shopping tile floor like he was throwing pebbles into the water. His small face, mostly covered by his oversized glasses  was laden with wonder and joy.

In this rock-bottom universe of my favourite cafes, I was astounded to find a surprise evening delight.

I was running around my neighbourhood. Trying to feel my heart beat against my chest, trying to taste my salty sweat trickling down my face and flooding my eyes, nose and lips. The street so quiet its deafening silence creating a series of calming echoes inside my head.

Hushed morning like these are my sacred escape, moments I get to let my mind wanders free and unrestrained.

I was on a major recconnaisance for my next perfect abode, a place to call home and  people to live with to call a family. The state of my temporary settlements - from one bookshelf to another - sometimes give me an illusion of fresh starts, or clean exits.

I was finishing my reading of 127 Hours, my enrapturement with Aron Ralston's psyche and his passionate obsession with nature and exploring it is causing my slow progress with the book. My act of reading the book is one I usually witness when people are nibbling succulent chocolate or oyster, or sipping a good warm hot chocolate on rainy days. They savour it, they take it slow.

I was standing across a familiar friend, listening to his voice and smiling at his friendly jokes. In my head, my brain works faster than my heart - trying to make sense of his undeciphered demeanour. After a while, when silence makes an interval out of our long pause - I put my guard down and let his presence envelops my existence.

At every breath he draws in I was made aware of every fluttering molecules that he is - ordinary yet so out of place.

I was living, creating my own circumstances and unplanned adventures. I was trying to furnish my small life with my gigantic dreams. I was trying to live - really live - before I die.

We all need saving

Sometimes when I'm on the verge of slipping into the dark, simple words keep me hanging on to what's real.

They help me swim through the pain, through the bitter torrid water, and no matter how exhausted I am I remind myself all I have to do is to get to the other side. To make it to the next round.

Laughter is the best medicine

I learned over the weekend apart from playing in the dirt, getting myself comfortable with nature; the next invigorating thing I enjoy doing is laughing.

To laugh with good friends over misopportune moments, over memories old but never forgotten. To laugh at the oblivious way cats walk away from me while regally swishing their tails no matter how hard I try to trick them with Friskies in hand. To laugh over embarassing mistakes and bitter discoveries, to laugh at all things human.

A little ray of sunshine

It still feels the same. The exhilirating push to leap forward, to skip on the little rocks and bounce on the brown fertile soil.

To push my body to the brink of its metabolic capacity, to feel my lung constricts and fights for the air, to feel my heart leaps out from my chest - fighting to live, fighting to survive, fighting to capture the essence of life I rarely feel on my ordinary, or as aptly put by my friend; shabby, confusing, over-worked days.

The trip to Broga Hill was a much needed escape. Jaunts to nature like these remind me of my dreams, what I'm made of and what I live for - to live, really live, to feel pain inside and out, to break free, to strip myself of my own fears and limitations, and to conquer impossibilities as big as the mountains.

Saturday morning  I wake up at 4.00 a.m. to drive to Semenyih, a small town about 15-minute drive southeast of Kajang. I brew coffee for myself and pack chocolate-coated digestive cookies for breakfast, before heading out to pick up my friend along the way.

An amazing crowd was already gathering by the time we reach the oil palm estate where the trail starts. I find myself bouncing with energy and raring to go while we wait for another group of friends to arrive. We start off strong but linger at the first stop to catch our breath.

The journey has a secret intrigue to it which I adore; stepping on the coarse rocks and hardened soil in utter darkness awaken my senses, and the terror which catch me off-guard at the sudden slip even when I thought I knew where I was going make me aware of my fist sized red heart.

There is no realisation as sobering  as one which says "I am human, I am living now". 

We reach the first peak after 30 minutes, and immediately scour the spot to sit down and wait for the sunrise. Cool morning breeze and little swifts hopping around from one tree to another make us forget the climbing ordeal we had previously, and despite the cheering noise made by the young crowd around me, I was totally enraptured by the sight in front of me.

As the darkness lazily made way to the sunlight who march silently but forcefully like a majestic king taking its rightful throne, I thought "what better way to celebrate such rare morning with a touch of warmth and  familiarity and friendliness such as coffee?"

Delicious Ambiguity

Alexandra Levit was right when she was talking about how we might be taking our job for granted. 'Meaning is in the eye of beholder'; we create our own meaningful experiences.

I was supposed to attend an interview yesterday. I was at crossroads deciding whether or not I should go. On one hand, the position wasn't really something I'm after. It's one of the little tricky things about the terms of my sponsorship. I'm supposed to serve for my sponsor, but I don't get a say in choosing the line of works I'm interested in or passionate about.

On the other hand, I am aware I cannot get too complacent with my current position. For the time being and in the next year, my responsibilities will involve working with and assisting small companies - they will be where I derive my meaning from. However, my office environment isn't too nurturing of my dreams, values and inspirations and for someone who attach values to her works - it's a struggling environment to survive.

I decided to give the interview a pass, and it feels like the right decision to do. Coming back to the office yesterday with my desk piled up with pending works gave me a sense of purpose and hope. I have no idea what's in store for me in the future, but I believe the right thing will come when the time is right - what's important is for me to be good at what I do and I do it right.

A wise old man once told me, "You need to set your goal or goals clearly and work hard and prove that qualifications apart, you are someone who acts ethically in all that you do,- in other words, you are trustworthy. Time is on your side; you are young and the world is at your feet". I think I'm beginning to get it.