Mid march.

It is the middle of march now. There is a last ditch attempt by the weather to remain in the monsoons before the sunshine comes and demands no quarter for the next few months. Singapore’s version of spring giving way to summer. Job applications have been sent off and emails have come back saying “thank you, but try again next time.” and the frustration is starting to set in. Maybe I should not have been so honest on those applications. I’ve also just decided to not finish a book because the premise truly bored me and life is that little bit to short to try and power through a book that has about 3-5% of my attention (no offence). So onwards we march through march (please enjoy that pun), with these paragraphs being the little altars I leave in my wake.

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I had a conversation with my sister the other day about how we share the hilarious ability to take ourselves way too seriously. We can dish out advice and say to each other “Who cares what you do, as long as you enjoy it, what does it matter to other people?” but we both had a realisation that in our heart of hearts, we do care. We worry about what people think, we wonder if someone will look at what we create and judge it rather than appreciate it. It was a hilarious revelation that we decided no longer had any place in our lives, over delicious cocktails and bar nibbles. But let us see how we do a few months from now.

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I wonder about what life would look like in a place where I could wear linen dresses and shorts every day and live in a bikini forever while the sun scorches the skin to a golden brown. Where I am okay with the sweat rolling down the temples and the small of the back because the ocean is just so blue you that you don’t mind it at all. Where the curls have learnt to run wild, the hair stained golden from the sun. I wonder if there is a place where you can have the windows open all the time. Until the inside of the house smells just like the outside, a little bit of the jungle making a home in the concrete walls of your house. Maybe there is a place where we can walk barefoot from the house to the beach and track sandy footprints to the bathroom.

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These little gifts. I’ve been following my parents on their weekly walks or following them on their after-meal walks and as we stroll we have been given little birds like like a sweet reminder of the divine. Dad went on a walk after lunch and a lovely blue bird known for being skittish decided he was their friend. They even let him place his hand down and they danced around him for a couple seconds, chirping sweetly. Then as we did our after-dinner walk yesterday, we were able to stop and watch as a wonderous little sunbird with its yellow chest lingered on the neighbours bougainvillaeas taking little sips from each flower.

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I have decided to write from the couch today. We have two armchairs in the house and one of which I have claimed as mine. It’s near our patio doors and it always gets the most light. On the weekends I can sit there and let the sunlight warm the skin like a cat. It is a little bit gloomy in our house today, the shades are still down and the curtains are still drawn. Kind of nice for a sleepy Monday morning as everyone heads back to work and lets the rhythms of the week start to take shape.

But then comes the rain. It sounds like the heavens have just opened above us. The pitter-patter of raindrops, the rushing of the wind as it makes its demands against the side of the building. We have a huge drain by the house and every time it rains you can watch as it turns into this wild river. The levels swell as the rain collects and rushes back out to the sea further east. We don’t have many trees here anymore, most of them having been cut down to make room for apartments. But the ones we do have left have turned into a riot of leaves swaying in the wind.

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I remember having this thought the other day about why these quiet videos of people living in the forest do something to my brain chemistry and my heart. They make me yearn for this quiet life surrounded by nature, living in peace and tranquillity with an overgrown garden, flowers and fresh air. Where the sun, rain and wind are so close to you that they somehow become a part of your soul. Where you walk with bag in hand to the nearest town to find groceries and make friends with the old man who lives two doors down. I think these videos give me so much peace because in these places where the city is busy and the life is loud, the bars are packed and the land is tilled and neat, there seems to be none. No space to expand into the quiet. Only places where the sun scorches and the ground keeps that heat and returns it to you tenfold. Where life is so fast, there seems to be no space for stillness because everyone moves you along whether you want them to or not.