2010.

Another year end. Another one of these 'reflection' posts.

Sitting here, trying to recall what my last 356 days had been like, I reread my posts for the year-ends of previous years. I'm horrified and amused at the same time, seeing on print, the way I reflected at those years. Makes me a tad uncertain how I should do it this year.

2010. It's been a decade since the turn of the millennium. Seems like it had been such a long time, yet so quick time flies, it could have been yesterday we were worrying about the silly Y2K bug. For me, this ten years is probably the most meaningful ten years in my life so far. Standing at the end of 2010 looking back at the start of 2000, I don't think I have the vocabulary to succinctly describe the experience. As I run through the ten years, I do feel substantially aged, but somehow, feel like I am only beginning to understand what life really is. Perhaps I'm a slow learner, but I am only starting to grasp all that ten years worth of stuff life's been heaping on me. (yes, more than half my youth, I was in absolute daze.) It's been a mere ten years, but I have witnessed so many changes in and around me, I still can't quite fully fathom.

I stepped into 2000 a student, and step out of 2010 still a student, albeit a different kind of level. (oh no, this isn't good)

I stepped into 2000 with friends still in school uniforms and complaining about insane amount of homework, and step out of 2010 with friends in wedding gowns and complaining about insane financing needed to buy property and raise a child.

I stepped into 2000 immature, excited and naive about reaching adulthood, and step out of 2010 (hopefully) a little wiser, mellowed and wishing to relive my childhood.

If you were asked to describe the last ten years of your life, what would instantly come to mind? Being an emotional person, my instant association was the spectrum of emotions I had experienced. The laughters and happy times, the tears and sad times, the anger and frustrating times, the fear and despairing times... I find it amazing how, in retrospect, all of it becomes equally nostalgic; it's like they become the old photographs in the old photo album I am now flipping through. And these emotions, they link to the things I have done or experienced that are particularly memorable. So I look back at the 30 most memorable experiences of my 2010 (ten years is too difficult for my ageing brain to recall), and this is what my list is like:

1. My first 10km run in my personal record time of 1hr 12min 25s, which places me 1140th among 4186 women. Not bad for a debut!

2. Grocery shopping at midnight after drinking in a bar.

3. Drank 6 glasses of wine in a little more than an hour, and then somehow managed to get on a bus and walk a straight line to a French school to inquire about French courses, hopped on a bus to do grocery shopping and then somehow managed to walk safely home after transiting in train and bus again.

4. Cooked for a party of ten. Thrice.

5. Got my first Apple product, an iPhone4, on the day of its launching. (I'm never the gadget geek and I'm surprised I did that)

6. Scaled the Notre-Dame Cathedral for the most breathtaking view of Paris.

7. Scaled the Arc de Triomphe for the postcard view of Champs-Elysees.

8. Traveled to my third European country, Belgium, to have a Belgian tea of Belgian waffles and Belgian beer in a quaint Belgian town.

9. Climbed a medieval bell tower for a panoramic view of the UNESCO heritage town, Bruges.

10. Got tanned in (of all places) Paris.

11. Had homemade ratatouille from the fantastic chaucuterie in Montmatre. Madame's French comfort food is tres bien!

12. Tried Kir, a French cocktail, in Paris. Twice. Totally love it.

13. Watched Sir Simon Rattle and Berliner Philharmoniker live in concert.

14. Watched Tan Dun conduct the world premiere of his Violin Concerto with Singapore Symphony Orchestra.

15. Watched Joshua Bell play with Academy of St. Martin-in-the-fields. Twice.

16. Got an autograph and photograph with Joshua Bell. Very star-strucked.

17. Watched my first Broadway musical: Chicago. Fantastic!

18. Watched my first theater: Animal Farm. For a local production, I was impressed.

19. Had a taste of heartache.

20. Broken some treasured friendships.

21. Rediscovered old friendships.

22. Went kayaking and finished with very sunburnt feet.

23. Made a globe purely out of bacterial agar. And discovered that Bradford's reagent actually destabilizes agarose.

24. Drank 3 glasses of wine, stayed up all night chatting, after which went jogging at the break of dawn and then drinking again in a bar at night. (I hope mum never finds out)

25. Did a short stint of kickboxing classes.

26. A student declaring 'I love you!' to me... actually, for my classes.

27. A bunch of students confessing they missed me lots... actually, my classes.

28. Had chocolate pellets for a drink.

29. Walked Monet's iconic garden in Giverny.

30. Rediscovered the joy of spontaneity and unrestrained laughter with many friends who made much difference in my life.

I think I shall extend my list for 2011 with more memorable experiences.

Here's to a wonderful 2010 and a promising 2011.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

～みはる～

Brick wall & Ladder

A while ago, I was telling a friend how I think my life and learning experience is shaped by two equally important groups of people: first being my family, and second being my teachers and friends and even mere acquaintances. Although I may not be one to be quick to realize, I do feel very blessed to have so many life 'teachers' in the form of people I love (friends) and people I am not particularly fond of (not really enemies, but let's say, we don't see eye-to-eye).

However, sometimes I wonder how far friendships go. Don't get me wrong, I think friends are wonderful and friendships keep us cheerfully alive and even work magic in every possible dimension of our lives. But I think there are some things in life where friends can get you only that far; the rest of the journey you have to travel alone. Let me illustrate my thoughts in an analogy of a ladder and brick wall.

If life was a path lined with overgrown hedges and intersections forked at random intervals, then successes would be clearings with bright blooms lining your path, and setbacks would be solid brick walls that block your path from time to time. What problems could you have with a well-defined path and flowers blooming everywhere? (except if you're allergic to pollen, of course) It's the solid brick walls that gives us issues. It's solid stone in the middle of your way, for goodness sake, why wouldn't it be a problem? It's daunting and looks impossibly difficult to climb over. Well, if you're lucky, you get a rather low brick wall that you can, after much heaving and clawing, clamber over. If you're unlucky, you get this imposing brick wall where you can't tell where it ends, and there seems no chance of getting over it. But that darn wall is smack in the middle of your path, and there's no way continuing your journey unless you climb over this slab of stone.

You have a few options.

One, huddle at the foot of the wall and continuously bemoan your misfortune. ('Why do I get a super tall wall when others get such low walls?', 'I'm always unlucky. Why am I always unlucky?'...you get the idea.)

Two, turn back and go down where you came from, maybe until you reach the previous intersection and take another route. (but there's no guarantee that this alternative route is tall-wall-free.)

Three, find some way to climb over that damn wall.

Objectively speaking, I see the first option as the option of giving up (often, even before trying), and the second option as the option of escaping or denying difficulties. If we don't learn how to climb a tall wall, what's going to happen the next time we come across another tall wall? Turn back and escape again? The third option, would, rationally, epitomize the persevering and learning through difficulty option.

However, a tall wall is a tall wall. It's not easily clambered over. But against the wall, is a very tall ladder. Sometimes you may get a rickety, rotting ladder. Sometimes you're luckier, you get a sturdy ladder. Oh, and sometimes..? You get none. But there's no stopping you to make one. So, if you lean the ladder (rickety/solid/handmade) against the wall and start ascending, you would be making progress to overcome the tall wall. The rickety one may fail you sometimes, but it can also get you to some height (and you'll never know if it's high enough to jump over). And because you have the assistance of the ladder, you can begin to see the top of the wall and the possibility of climbing over it.

But, the ladder's just leaning against the wall. It doesn't conveniently throw you down the other side of the tall wall. If you're lucky, the ladder is taller than the wall, then you have extra support at the peak to hop over. If the ladder is a tad shorter than the wall, you'll have to clamber a little to get over the wall. Ultimately, you have to make the effort to pull yourself over the tall wall to the other side, where your path continues.

I see friends as the ladder. They are the wonderful help that elevates us to a position where we can perceive the possibility of overcoming difficult problems in life. We have really good friends, like the sturdy ladder, that becomes the solid support we rely on in difficult times. But we may have friends that are, well, a little more transient, just like the rickety ladder; but that don't mean they don't help or teach us anything. And sometimes, we probably have to make friends that can help us through tough times, just like the handmade ladder.

But ultimately, in all walls (i.e. problems) alike, the final effort have to be our very own. We have to climb over the top of the wall on our own. The ladder can't do it for us. That journey we have to make alone.

This whole analogy may sound strange, but it came to me when I was mulling over how much help I could extend to my friends when they are troubled with difficult problems in life. I felt I have done as much as I could, I wondered if I could do more. But I truly feel that while I can do much, there is still only so much I can do. The rest of the journey, they have to make it alone. I can't throw them over the brick wall; they have to propel themselves over. This is true as well when roles are reversed.

I simply believe that life is a culmination of our choices, and while we may have friendly support, we should keep in mind not to use it like a crutch and forget that we have to own up to our choices because ultimately, our very own will is what matters.

～みはる～

Stroll over ride

Living in a bustling city, I often forget the simple pleasures of slowing down a run to a walk. Although I try to refrain from perpetually rushing about, when immersed in a herd that's, well, perpetually rushing at a dizzying speed, I somehow naturally fall into the hectic pace as well. (It's all about efficiency here)

However, words of my wise friends are always at the back of my mind, reprimanding me from time to time to forgo rushing and just slow my pace. And so that was what happened this evening, as I got off work and headed to the track for a quick jog. I would usually walk about half a kilometre to the track, but as I got out of my building today, I saw a shuttle bus pulled to the bus stop about 10m away. Now, I could spend 10mins walking half a kilometre or sprint to the bus stop to catch a 2min bus ride to the track.

Repressing the urge to run to the bus, I turned away from the bus stop and started my walk towards the sports centre. And I was pleasantly rewarded. Dusk was darkening into night as clouds overcast the sky. It had just rained shortly before and the air was cool and refreshing. Streetlights flickered to life. The leaves on the upright trees stirred gently. A distant puddle splashed as a car drove by. Unconsciously, my pace slowed to a leisurely stroll. I breathed deeply and realized how I love being right here at this moment. And how fortunate it is that I had chosen not to ride with the bus.

I love the gentle breeze, not the blast of air-cond of the bus, in my face.

I love the wideness of overcast sky, not the narrow ceiling of bus, over my head.

I love the soft glow of the streetlamp, not the glare of fluorescent light, casting my shadow on the street.

I love the smell of after rain, not the stale air of the bus, in the air.

I love the chirp of crickets, not the din and chatter of people crowding the bus, echoing into the night.

By opting a stroll over a ride, I was rewarded ten full minutes of simple pleasures that is, in fact, omnipresent. I'm glad I slowed my run this evening to heed the stillness of mother nature.

Have you communed with nature today?

～みはる～