The afterlife

What led me there was a curiosity to know what was on the other side of pain.

I’d been seeking out some kind of solace, reading stories about the afterlife.

It sounded like a wonderful place to be.

Some people say that they feel unconditional love. Others say they see their loved ones waiting to take them home.

These stories really give you hope.

But then on the sadder side, they make you see how insignificant our worries are.

That all you feel is peace. There’s no intensity of happiness or sadness. You’re like energy in space.

I don’t want to be just a mass of energy. I want to be human. I want to live. So much of my humanness comes from having feelings and emotions.

People tell me to meditate. Like Buddha. But I am not a god.

Once when I was very young, I felt at peace. Nothing could make me sad. Not even when a friend moved away forever. Not even when a friend wanted to talk about something. My happiness just being alone in my own world stopped me from connecting with people to the fullest.

I didn’t like it. I realised that I didn’t want to feel nothing. I wanted to feel something! So I asked to have emotions, to care about people.

I appreciate the humanness of my thoughts. Knowing that I can feel a scale of emotions from sadness to anger to happiness. It’s like the scales on a piano. It sounds more beautiful because of the range.

A voice is more beautiful because of its range of octaves.

I admit I’ve been playing on a sombre scale for some time. And need to explore a happier scale. Perhaps a bit of Ode to Joy. Beethoven.

 

How is everyone feeling today?

Last night, I spoke to my friend about our friendship and he agreed that we can be friends again. It has been such a confusing period of time in my life, and I’m not sure if I can go back to trusting him completely like I used to.

I’ve always been a keen observer of my feelings especially when it comes to the aftermath of falling out with friends or with romantic interests.

I’ve always done the right thing. Kept myself at a distance from the source of hurt, even cutting off contact with people who have hurt me completely. But I’ve realised that in doing so, I feel bitter and cynical about relationships. It doesn’t make me feel happy. The pain is always there, just a memory away for the next person to come along and dredge up those thoughts. I’ve even started feeling scared of meeting new people in case they trigger these old hurts.

This is the first time I’ve decided not to cut off contact with someone who has betrayed my trust. It’s the first time I’ve decided to work through it. To make the pain fade away rather than cover it up and not talk about it. I even phoned my parents and talked to them about how I feel. I never willingly do that. I don’t even talk about these things to my group of friends! And now I’m writing about it on my blog!

I just don’t want to hide anymore. I really do hope that I can shine a light on my fears. They’ve really held me back from being fully productive, and living life to the full. They make me feel as though I don’t deserve whatever is good and happy. But I have too much I want to do. I can’t let this fear that’s coming from one aspect of my life affect the rest of what I do.

I don’t want to put all my happiness in a friendship, but I believe that friends form a big part of our happiness.

I’m really only just starting to know what happiness means to me. It’s different to what I once thought it was. Probably a result of me turning 27 in the next 2 days!

See you on the other side of fear!

A little ray of sunshine

There are times in our lives where we need something to jolt us out of our sadness. For the past few months I have been sadder than usual, and missing the company of a close friendship that has fallen apart.

It’s difficult for me to know what to do in these situations. I really wish that I could have that close friendship again, but at the same time I feel as though I’m the only one trying to mend it, and it doesn’t make me feel good about myself.

But today, in my usual sad mood, I recieved a little ray of sunshine. A friend of mine messaged our group of friends and told us that there was a travel deal going on.

Does anyone want to go to Japan? was the question I saw when I opened up my phone.

I’m still in the middle of work, but I have to let him know within 2 hours. So without checking with my boss, without checking the itinerary, I make a spontaneous decision and say Yes!

Who knew that I’d start the day feeling sad, only to end up booking a flight to Japan!

The spontaneous decision has jolted me out of a much needed wake up. I like it. I want more of this feeling. And although I know my sadness won’t fade away right now, I’m just glad to have a brief reprieve from the sadness I’ve been feeling in my heart.

I’m sitting here all alone at work, listening to the traffic rushing outside and making sure I finish typing this before I go home.

Sadness is not my forte. I want to get out there and start moving. I hope today will be the start of a happier me.

Finding treasure

I knew somebody who knows of a place to look for gold. Somewhere up North. The first time he contacted me, he was already there, bent over backwards under the baked sun, scanning the ground for gold. He used a tiny piece of equipment, the picture he sent me wasn’t too clear, but there amongst the sludge of grime and dirt were specs of gold. It wasn’t much, he grunted.

Later on, he showed me his collection of gems. Emerald, pearl, and sapphire. I even got some for my birthday. Not the store-bought ones that people give each other on special occasions, but the raw ones. Tiny, tiny stones. And he even proved to me that they were real, with that little equipment of his that buzzed when it touched genuine stone. He knew his stones. Even his last name meant stone.

I thought he was either a con man, or a black market dealer, someone who shouldn’t be trusted.

But I didn’t know anybody like that, so I found him interesting to talk to.

I uncovered facts about him. He was a loner of sorts who travelled around the world, but he could carry on a conversation with ease and make someone feel as though they were being listened to.

I taught him what a metaphor was by giving him a rose.

Some time later, when I came back from my trip overseas, I found him alone and sunken. He wasn’t the same person anymore. He lost his attentiveness, his soft-spoken voice and his sense of curiosity about people.

Genuine stone never loses its shine, but this stone lost his.

The trouble with using an equipment to find treasure is that sometimes machines can get faulty or stuck. He had scanned his equipment over the piece of ground, and it had passed over the single most biggest treasure he could have ever found, and it didn’t buzz.

Sometimes there are no easy ways of knowing when we’ve found our treasure or when we’ve lost it. I often wonder, where did that person go? The one that bent his back looking for treasure under the hot baked sun. He no longer does that anymore. Instead, he sits there on the couch, watching TV, letting other people find his treasure.

The treasure seeker couldn’t even see the gold that was right in front of him.

Stones are put under pressure to see what they are made of.

Does heaven have a translator?

At the time of my grandfather’s passing, I made him a booklet describing all of the things that I had done during my holiday in China. On the last page, I wrote him a goodbye letter, wishing him a safe journey to the other side.

When I showed this to my dad, he pointed out an obvious flaw: How could Agong understand the letter if it was written in English?

The answer was obvious. There’s a translator in heaven, translating all the foreign letters written by the grandchildren who were raised overseas.

This idea inspired an image of an elderly man walking in heaven, trying to find a translator to help him read his granddaughter’s letter.

I’d like to think that the booklet has kept Agong thoroughly entertained and that he is watching from afar, reminding me to keep the light in my spirit.