What summer 04 holds...
My mind always takes me back to the summer of 2004. My last summer before any of the significant changes happened in my life. Good and bad. Almost like a final resting zone before I got sucked/plunged into the neverending moments and the whirl of life.
Sometimes I long to go back to that summer. I was 19. And I wore jeans. I wore jeans to the Psych Summer Beach Camp. The camp that defined that summer. I wore jeans when the others wore little board shorts and bikinis. I wore jeans through the 10 hour bus journey to the other side of the peninsular.
I wore my damn jeans, all the way over to the beautiful other side of Malaysia. With its untouched beaches and rural landscapes. It was so breezy, so warm, with its calming yet forceful waves. Leaving your skin with a layer of sea salt and sweat. You could always hear the sea. And at night, you could always see the stars. And there was that delta that could always be counted on to reach into the blue seas at different intervals every day. Exposing its different depths.
I don't know if I remember it so much because that was when I first started writing myself letters (few and far in between though, mind you), forcing an insight that was forever etched in paper, and therefore I have a memory of the time clearer than any other. Or if it is because it serves as my mind's refuge. Just in that moment, just before a turning point, the safety net for me, where it was all comfortable. And I was eager and full of hope for life and its promises. A simpleton. Just happy to be.
Team-building made new friends and we had fun. But we were alone too. We were alone some parts of the day. And at night, we were alone, even amongst friends, sprawled out on our backs on the beach to gaze up at the stars. We had plenty of time to go off and contemplate things. Little me-workshops, where you'd go away on your own, to find your own spot, and write...about things. Some people drew, some people talked. I did a bit of both. But most of the time, I tried 'finding my inner peace', gained insight and wrote lists.
I do that a lot. I write lists. It keeps the order. Or at least creates an order for the chaos that is my life. Maybe it helps me feel in control of something. Lists. My current list is a page full of scholarship deadlines. In addition to the usual lists for groceries to buy to try out a new recipe.
Does it really create order though? I don't know. Do I really need such an orderly system anyways? Maybe. I dunno. I went through a terribly upsetting time again just recently. Only this time, my body and mind reacted. Badly. But that incident has shown me that no matter how hard I worked at it or tried to control/prevent a situation, one can only do so much.
And since that episode, you could say I gained a little insight. A deeper one that is steeped more in practicality. You can only control so much. I only have so much energy, and two small hands. The rest is up to me to deal with when the time comes and if it does at all. And rest assured, that beyond dreams, my little beach refuge is tangible, and I can always reach it again, when I need it.
In the meantime, it sits behind the little trap door in my mind, ready to engulf me in its warmth and a vast blanket of endless stars amidst sounds of waves. When and if.
Currently listening to : Zee Avi
(very laidback acoustic jazz, reminds me of coconut trees and hammocks)
Sometimes I long to go back to that summer. I was 19. And I wore jeans. I wore jeans to the Psych Summer Beach Camp. The camp that defined that summer. I wore jeans when the others wore little board shorts and bikinis. I wore jeans through the 10 hour bus journey to the other side of the peninsular.
I wore my damn jeans, all the way over to the beautiful other side of Malaysia. With its untouched beaches and rural landscapes. It was so breezy, so warm, with its calming yet forceful waves. Leaving your skin with a layer of sea salt and sweat. You could always hear the sea. And at night, you could always see the stars. And there was that delta that could always be counted on to reach into the blue seas at different intervals every day. Exposing its different depths.
I don't know if I remember it so much because that was when I first started writing myself letters (few and far in between though, mind you), forcing an insight that was forever etched in paper, and therefore I have a memory of the time clearer than any other. Or if it is because it serves as my mind's refuge. Just in that moment, just before a turning point, the safety net for me, where it was all comfortable. And I was eager and full of hope for life and its promises. A simpleton. Just happy to be.
Team-building made new friends and we had fun. But we were alone too. We were alone some parts of the day. And at night, we were alone, even amongst friends, sprawled out on our backs on the beach to gaze up at the stars. We had plenty of time to go off and contemplate things. Little me-workshops, where you'd go away on your own, to find your own spot, and write...about things. Some people drew, some people talked. I did a bit of both. But most of the time, I tried 'finding my inner peace', gained insight and wrote lists.
I do that a lot. I write lists. It keeps the order. Or at least creates an order for the chaos that is my life. Maybe it helps me feel in control of something. Lists. My current list is a page full of scholarship deadlines. In addition to the usual lists for groceries to buy to try out a new recipe.
Does it really create order though? I don't know. Do I really need such an orderly system anyways? Maybe. I dunno. I went through a terribly upsetting time again just recently. Only this time, my body and mind reacted. Badly. But that incident has shown me that no matter how hard I worked at it or tried to control/prevent a situation, one can only do so much.
And since that episode, you could say I gained a little insight. A deeper one that is steeped more in practicality. You can only control so much. I only have so much energy, and two small hands. The rest is up to me to deal with when the time comes and if it does at all. And rest assured, that beyond dreams, my little beach refuge is tangible, and I can always reach it again, when I need it.
In the meantime, it sits behind the little trap door in my mind, ready to engulf me in its warmth and a vast blanket of endless stars amidst sounds of waves. When and if.
Currently listening to : Zee Avi
(very laidback acoustic jazz, reminds me of coconut trees and hammocks)
posted by shuey @ 20:16
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