At the start of this year, I drew myself in vibrant colours. In the picture my arms were outstretched and words surrounded me, words like:
"Open"
"Embrace"
"Adventure"
"Fun"
"Joy"
I wanted 2023, after the wintering year of 2022, to be my spring: a year where my life opened up again to possibility, joy and adventure. It meant less stability and more flux, experimentation and journeying.
Adventures took lots of different forms. Our family went on our first trip together in February, up to Desaru on the east coast of Malaysia. Desaru has been a holiday place for my family before I was born: we grew up going to the same seaside resort, and saw it change hands three times. The people working in the hotel would recognise us every year and comment on how tall we'd grown, and at the end of the holiday we'd return to Singapore with our skin brown, our hair big with salt and the memory of being rocked by waves still held in our bodies. This visit was the first time we had been back after the pandemic. The sea was bloated and high from the monsoon storms and waves towered over us. There was no choice but to dive into them, or under them, and feel them push and pull you like a muscle. Dad no longer rolled in the breaking waves with us, but he did slowly (stick and all), step into the swimming pool. The cold water stiffened his muscles, but he kept going, walking a lap around the pool before retiring to a deck chair with sunglasses on. An old place, a new form of family; we still had a lot of fun.
The most surreal happening was in April, when for one glorious weekend I flew to the UK for Lucy and Dom's wedding. International flight is befuddling at the best of times, but the sheer magic and strangeness of stepping on a metal airborne cylinder in tropical Singapore and twelve hours later stepping off into the cold air of England was especially obvious when it happened for such a compressed amount of time. I remember the days in a series of delightful vignettes: being lifted off the ground by a hug from Naomi, sipping hot tea in the kitchen surrounded by excited, loving people, a grateful nap in Lucy and Dom's new apartment, blowing balloons in a room full of balloons, laughing over photographs of young Lucy and Dom with Rachel. Rolling fiddly curlers in Lucy's hair the morning of the wedding, singing 'The blessing' and meaning every word and wishing with all my heart for happiness forever for these two lovely people, dancing and dancing and dancing... I did worry about such a short trip: it was a big expense and a lot of carbon from the flying. But when I was studying in London, an artist once told me that life is short and whenever you have a choice, choose the option that loves people; in this case the answer was obvious. I was so glad I went.
In May we celebrated two years of marriage and I prepared for the opening of my first big exhibition. Both collided on the 22nd of May (our anniversary date). We met on the top of Mt Faber hill, beloved because it has a beautiful view of the port and the sea, and crucially is usually empty of other people. We each brought surprise bits for a picnic, and Jacob chose things that brought back memories of past dates or moments. I felt truly, blissfully happy. When we got home, I received a call from the museum about something in the exhibition that was changing which I thought should not be changed. It was gut wrenching and after the stressful, intense days of installation prior to it. When I talked about it with my boss subsequently, he reminded me that in this job, one must strike a balance between caring for the work and not caring too much. I’m learning to find that balance at work, but the scales don't add up in marriage. In marriage the best thing is to care, and then to care more and more and more and more (but not care about things like an unmade bed or full rubbish bin).
Jacob's parents visited in June (his Dad and sister) and September (his Mum). By the second visit both had moved into separate houses, and things were different. I read somewhere that divorce doesn't mean your family is broken, but that your family is reorganised. That was a really helpful perspective shift, and meant that when I asked Jacob who he considers his family it made sense when foremost, he maintained that he still sees his Dad, Mum and sister as one of his families, mine as another and our church small group as another. "What about me?" I asked. "You're part of all of them." At the end of the year we went back there to see them, and celebrated Christmas in two different homes. That wasn't easy: each home had it's own emotional energy and ways of being, but also had it's delights. I loved the red kites above Catherine's home and the long walks which required a certain skill of navigation. We walked them with friends too, which felt important. I loved how close Mark's home is to the river that he loves, and how the kitchen is full of his pottery projects (including some plates he considers 'failed', which Jacob and I now happily use for all our toast adventures). In a way, I am learning that there is more of family to explore and discover in this separation, rather than less.
This year my intention is to seek clarity. I imagine clarity as a clear path found through inner stillness, but with the intention to move forward (or backwards, or sideways, or wherever the path is taking you). I hope it will bring better balance between work and life (last year sort of felt like my teenage years at work, with big feelings and frustrations). I hope it will also bring more trust, as Jacob and I make bigger plans for our future.
Smaller adventures from the year (but still big on joy):
1. After much deliberation, I joined a choir again and sang in a concert in March. There was also one point where I looked out over the audience and saw Dad struggling to contain what would have been an almighty sneeze and had to stifle a giggle. And after the concert we asked a woman to take a photograph of us, and she cheerfully took one that had all of us in it except our heads.
2. After the exhibition had been open for a while, Hannah and I took a weekend trip up to Kluang to hike Gunung Lambak. It was a tricky climb, and I was trying my best to keep up with two guys: one of whom was an ex-marine and the other was a canoeist and marathon runner. I just about managed, puffing and panting all the way!
3. In November we joined Emily and Wesley at the 39th Singapore bird race. There were mistakes made: I didn't bring a pair of binoculars and I was wearing bright pink shorts (no camouflage here). We saw over 30 different kinds of birds, including the otherworldly milk stork, endangered strawheaded bulbul and a lineated barbet, which I consider my personal friend since there's often one outside our window. I am looking forward to the 40th bird race!
4. Towards the end of the year some of our friends from small group started weekly badminton sessions. I am very rusty (although have I ever been sharp? That is the question...) and have a bad tendency to squeal when the shuttlecock approaches me at speed, but it is so much fun.
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