Jotterings

Today's one of those days where I felt aligned, effortless, where things are falling into place.

Started the day volunteering at a community garden in the West where the veterans were afraid to work us too hard so my buddy and I merely scooped composted soil onto a wheel barrel before distributing them upon several spots around the garden. We spent most of the time talking, hearing the stories of one another, an unlikely trio of a gentle Brit, a gregarious uncle and me. I felt transparent, as if light and air could flow through me.

Afterwards, a daytime shower, petting of an old dog who stumbled around the tiled floors she used to sprint across. The passage of time, inevitable and irreversible.

Then, making my way to what I thought was dinner but instead tea with someone I've met serendipitously through an event (an "unconference") during Design Week where we bonded over mindfulness, our shared journeys and interest and the possibilities of collaboration, of spreading her mission further.

(I'm so proud of myself for finally pitching my services, something I would have never found the courage to do a mere few years ago.)

Also, I'm riding off the high of catastrophic thoughts proven wrong (I had intense, now irrational worries about the cat I was sitting for dying during the intermission after my departure and the return of her rightful owners - ridiculous).

I felt glad to have stayed true to my morning intentions of leading the day with grace, curiosity and the courage to trust that I can explore the experiences of this life in safety, to appreciate beauty in the ordinary and slowing down.

to do what's uncomfortable.

The more I feel like procrastinating, avoiding, talking myself out of it, the more I should pause, pay attention and steer myself towards action, in any way that works, no matter how weird it may be.

So far, it's been scheduling external appointments in which I have the outside pressure to show up (like events, interactive sessions, meetups, dinner appointments etc.), talking to myself ("you have the ability to change. you can become the person you want to be. everything is unfolding in the right way.) or watching content where I'm learning or steered towards the positive, productive mindset that I wish to embody but am being ambushed by my mental saboteurs (self-help girlies with minimalist setups, learning courses etc.)

House and cat sitting had been pretty healing, giving myself the space and time to get comfortable with solitude again, something which I had detested in my youths but yearned so achingly for in my current chapter, surrounded by people, my guts always clenched, constricted into illusory expectations I can't shake, staying hypervigilant about my behaviour, so much so that my true self stay tensed and locked in a self-constructed enclosure of my cavity.

Which was why I had taken to dance, street jazz in particular. Where it feels sensual, fluid yet there's structure and an edge to it. And I'm surprised by the amount of aspiration I've developed for it, followed by the investments I've made to learn this new skill. Regardless of how foolish I may look.

Another one of those spacious weekday afternoons, pondering life's deepest questions at a café as I sip on my Americano, something I had learnt to drink due to its low cost, because the frequent costs of escaping familiar environments and mental loops do add up, unwise during this period of transition, of a livelihood unascertained.

I've been here before.

Except this time I've understood that the costs of financial uncertainties pale in comparison to the costs of being employed in an environment that feels utterly unaligned.

And that this job search is an opportunity to go beyond simply landing a role, but instead take this opportunity of a breathing space to do some long neglected, much needed inner work, to break myself out of the endless loop of frustration, burnout, that could potentially make up the entirety of my life.

Which is why I feel called to dig deeper, to listen to my intuition and get to the root of my habits and thoughts, emerging in response to the job searching process, arduous, humbling, illuminating. My natural training ground.

I'm grateful to meditation, books, journalling, friends, mentors and my courageous heart for staying open, looking forward and outwards.

I celebrate progress made in not attributing curt rejection emails to personal failings, in learning with agility and adapting before the downward spiral gets me, in discovering more of my truths and values, in discerning better the signals from my guts and the capacity to remind myself that "what's meant for me will not miss me".

It's been a month since I've concluded my previous role. A month of healing, learning to feel safe again, rebuilding my confidence and discovering my inner voice. It's with certitude that I've made the right choice moving on; I'm now clearer and stronger about my next chapter.

As I had let myself be swayed by external circumstances, the advice from self-help media, the requirements on job descriptions, the quantity of roles available tagged to keywords, garnishing my resume with ATS keywords, AI as my accomplice... all of which just feels so wrong at a visceral level.

So I'm taking that break today to recalibrate and still the raft rocking in tumultuous waters. I look to my Human Design chart (introduced by a dear friend over brunch) and sought ChatGPT as my consultant, putting words to truths that lay dormant in my soul, buried under years of attempting to survive and blend in with the rest, in environments and ways that grate the core of my being, where maladaptive armour of habits and coping mechanisms emerge to protect the rawness of wounds, of knife-stabbed betrayals from not listening or honouring my authenticity.

I created a Telegram channel for myself called "SQ's Inner Work Notes", a space where I can be reminded of my higher self, my preferences, my truths, or what I've learnt in the concept of Positive Intelligence (after attending a wonderful confidence workshop) — my sage voice.

Amidst the significant sense of being lost, I sought comfort in Chat's analysis that "You're meant to pivot and combine skills, not stick to a rigid path" and "Clarity comes over time, not in the heat of a moment. You ride emotional waves before deciding"

And I will hold on to these as my steady anchors, bracing wind and salt in my eyes as I head back out into the vast open seas of uncertainties and possibilities.

Also completed this one last night (picked it up from the Daughter of Tomorrow [DOT]* booth at an event) to put things into perspective. Compared to those who had been dealt a hard hand of life (divorce, poverty, social immobility etc.), mine is one of privilege, where I have the perception of options, the absence of pressing emergencies or care I need to give at the expense of myself.

For that I am grateful and remind myself to always have signposts like these when I'm tempted to wallow in my self-pity and victim mentality.

Today's one of those days where I awake, brimming with ideas and lofty plans for the future. This doesn't happen often, but when it does, I ride the white waters of my thoughts until the tributaries gather at the estuaries, accumulated energy buzzing in anticipation of a release, in the form of action, which doesn't happen because there's a bottleneck.

Anxiety ensues. The breath shallows, the chest constricts and my vision dims into a hazy, narrow viewpoint. And having bear witness to this trajectory repeatedly, I'm not surprised. I'm both in awe and frustrated by the regenerative and destructive powers of the mind, one which I am learning to tame.

So post-lunch, on my walk back home, I willed myself to slow down the perception of time, to put gradual brakes upon the trains of thoughts hurtling down the tracks and stopped to regard the plants that surround my cobblestone path, calm, rooted and still, freshly cleansed from the morning's rain.

So it has happened, just like I've feared.

The hiatus between my writings had stretched, widened and diverged until the now yawning abyss before me felt impossible to bridge.

I stand by the precipice, peering into the trenches, shivering yet frozen, fearing the act of creation, the process of translating thoughts, consciousness and ideas into words no longer feeling fluid. The dilapidation of my gift through no one's fault but my own.

So this is what "Jotterings" is about, to introduce creating back into my life, to hold myself accountable for the practice of putting words to paper (or screen in this age), so that one day I can ride the flow and swell of the tide of writing, expression and communication in a way that lands.

Today, it feels clumsy and clunky. Like the stiffness of my body attempting to contort myself into a backbend after weeks of inactivity, like the viscous blocks of words trapped in my throat socialising after days of solitude.

It's uncomfortable but necessary to push through, to melt the hardness and lubricate the gears of creation, movement and life in its deepest essence.

15/8/2018