010. on impermanence & generosity
Greetings [:
I write to you from Quadra Island, an island tucked in between Vancouver island and Vancouver. It is beautiful out here — the skies have been glorious and the waters inviting. The days are getting shorter, and I know that the temperatures will start dipping anytime now. I am staying just by the lake. Everyday mid afternoon, Perri & Larry, the couple I am staying with, will look at the clock or their watches, tell me to put my task to an end. Now go play, they’d say.
The desire to be outside and near the water gnaws at me so I always go — I always make it for a swim, dry off in the evening light and turn back before it starts being chilly outside.
September was a good month. A month of transitions that turned into October. My family came to visit us in Canada for the first time. I was eager to show them the landscape, take them to wonderful places, witness their curiosity, awe; I was eager to draw out the wooos and ahhhs that had so occupied me during my first months in this country.
We showed them the Ponderosa Pines and put our noses to it. Did you know they smell like vanilla on a warm day? We dropped by the stream, the one we always drink from, and got all our bottles filled. We took them to our favourite bagel place where we all had a very generous lox with our bagel of choice. We swam together in one of my favourite shimmery turqoise-y lakes. It played out as a partial roadtrip — for over a week, J did the driving as we made our way to the Rockies. We eventually made our way down to Vancouver Island. It was a first for me to many of these places. Needless to say, lots of waters, trees, and skies. For people who spent so much of our lives in a small city like Singapore, it takes awhile before the eyes, the body and the mind gets accustomed to the expansiveness of a new space, things that run on a different scale.
Everything had felt so surreal. It was the most present, most involved I have been in meat space in the past couple of months. So real, it feels like a dream.
You know how they say that the holiday starts when the planning starts because the earnest anticipation is an experience in its own right? They also say that the trip continues even when you return — the sweetness of reminiscence as you take yourself through that reel over and over again. Moments so vividly captured. Remembering is a gift unto itself.
Being with my family does many things. Though two things often stand out to me, especially in recent years:
That I am so blessed with kinship like that: Love, care and acceptance that flows so generously and so unconditionally. Despite the squabbles.
Blessed, again, to recognize the impermanence that perfumes through all the moments we share.
On Impermanence
As one gets older, one’s “temporal horizon flips”, says John Vervaeke in a recent interview with Lex Fridman; instead of living from your birth, you live towards your death. I don’t consider very often my own death, though I do think about the limited number of years I have with the people around me — older family members, older friends — folks whose temporal horizons we’d expect to have flipped. The clock never stops ticking. The wheel always turns.
Sometimes this grief hits me like a wave, square in the face. Though it is precisely because of this ephemerality that the moment is precious and beautiful. Every moment holds its own — though arising and decaying all at once, nevertheless whole in itself, as transient as it is eternal. A koan for keeps.
...I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us as with a match, which is lit, and bright, but does not hurt in the common way, but delightfully, as if delight were the most serious thing you ever felt... (from Snow Geese by Mary Oliver)
Over the last two years, the people I have met and found myself spending extended periods of time with all turned out to be more than twice my age. Not that I had any of these planned or intentionally sought them out…though whether this pattern has any significance still remains to be seen. They were most certainly people whose temporal horizons had flipped. And you know what was striking amongst all of them? An unmistakable spirit of generosity — a quality so rare and so bright, it glows like a beacon and leaves a lasting impression. This big-heartedness stands untainted and unburdened, holds the lightheartedness of a child and also smells like the wisdom of an old soul. Anything that I have known or felt about the person is instantly changed upon witnessing or experiencing that generosity; I find myself more willing to love, more able to look past idiosyncracies or come to terms with other quirks that might have been rubbing me the wrong way. Generosity comes from a place that is deep, true and openhearted and I cannot help but see that this generosity has something to do with experiencing countless arisings and falling aways.
When you get to this age, you have fewer and fewer friends left, Perri said over dinner this evening, like a thought spoken aloud.
And I believe when one gets to that age, one becomes more cognizant of the kind of losses one can bear, more aware of the things worth holding on to, and that which can be given away so freely because it cannot be taken away.
...The geese flew on,
I have never seen them again.
Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.
Maybe I won't.
It doesn't matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
(from Snow Geese, by Mary Oliver)
𖦹 Sharing is caring
Compelled to share this: 🔮 The launch of a community-powered futures report diving deep and unpacking a Future in Sync by RADAR 🔮 , of which I am so glad to be a part of. The interactivity of the report is quite an experience — imploring you to bookmark, share, or simply spend some time with it! Eager to not let these be another one of those reports that get shelved away, RADAR is following this up with a Futurethon which will kick off on 17 Oct 👇🏼
…seeking makers, creators, developers, thinkers, writers, builders, dreamers who feel called to this future and want to make it a reality. The RADAR Futurethon is a series of free online events, hosted over seven days, to inspire and incubate ideas for products and services that have potential to thrive in ‘A Future in Sync'.
There are days when I do not believe in words, and then there are days when I hang on to them like my life depends on it. Corbel Stone Press has been delivering these words through exquisite writing on landscape, ecology and mythology and these sometimes take the form of thoughtfully and tastefully bound books. They’ve recently announced Reliquiae Vol 10 No 2, their final volume. I love the work that they do and strongly recommend that you check them out if those themes resonate with you.
The Willowherb Review, another platform I often return to, has just published Issue Five Constellations. Also a final issue. Kick back with some tea & tunes, perhaps? I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
If you, like me, are intrigued and feel aligned with Batesonian thinking, you might find this quite the treasure trove — an are.na channel of Gregory Bateson on tape.
The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you. — Rainer Maria Rilke
As always, thank you for reading this, it means alot to me to know that there is someone on the receiving end; as much as I write for myself, I also write for you. If you know another kindred soul who may enjoy this, do spread the word. There is much weaving to be done. As usual, I’m all ears — more than happy to hear from you, what you’re up to, and whatever else resonates or keeps you up at night.
I wish you deep joy.
xx