superbova

[superbova]

Living a Purpose Filled Life

I recently attended a course on this and the instructor urged us to keep a once-a-week diary of the things we really enjoyed doing during the week. 

Our purpose can be found in the intersection between doing what we love, what we’re good at, what the world needs and what we can get paid for.

Oh and that passion means the inclination to keep doing something in spite of the pain and discomfort associated with the activity.

Lots of parts here but kinda makes sense. 

#purposefilledlife #fortyyearsyoung #ikigai

[superbova]

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning

Am I ever going to be good enough? Smart enough? Am I worthless because I don’t have a career? Am I to be so entangled in what I do for a living that without which, I am nothing?

When you’ve been doing something all your life, it becomes you. Now, at 40, I am to start from a clean slate. I know the right thing to do is embrace it and be excited about the opportunity but sometimes, i feel a mild sense of panic.

It’s totally senseless but it’s there.

But here’s a list of what I am proud and thankful for so I never forget I’m not always alone:

1. my children

2. my friends - the people i feel safe around, they are there for me and they do not judge me

3. my lovely home

4. my spouse who takes away many of the hard edges that life brings

5. my health and physical strength so that i may travel, laugh, dance, sing and explore

6. my mental faculties - the ability to be curious, stimulated, the ability to plot and plan

7. my experience, scars and wounds because every knock and blow makes me stronger

#midlifecrisis #fortyyearsyoung

[superbova]

What is my purpose in life?

This has been a meaningful week. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of M. A guy I met late last year. Everything about him spelled disaster - selfish, inconsiderate, narcissistic and married. He was at the same time like a male version of me, not to mention a great kisser. He told me he loved me. It was hilarious.

We never saw each other very much but we chat via text through the day, everyday. Then it abruptly stopped. We had met for drinks and despite our best efforts, fell eventually back to “can’t keep my hands off you” mode.

He told me he’s trying to keep his dick in his pants.

I said I’m really happy you’re trying. I’ll lay off.

He left me standing by myself at the subway but continued texting me through the night. Then stopped.

It’s been about a week since. But this entry is not to moan about what a dick he is. It sets the backdrop to a series of insights I’ve encountered, perhaps in my sensitised, vulnerable state. I’d like to jot the sources and lessons learned:

1. Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl - a psychiatrist who survived the concentration camps during WW1. THe account was honest and heartbreaking, as they all are.

What stuck was this: when we are all stripped of our physical and worldly possessions, we’re ultimately left with the choice to live with dignity, do what’s right even under the most difficult circumstances, or to fuck our humanity and be completely self-serving. This is the freedom that noone can take from us and it is at the end of the day what defines us. Not out bank balance, our position at work, the academic achievements we have...

2. What is Love (there are some gems amongst cringey V day’s content)? This video is worth the few minutes for its frank telling of how fucked up our notions of LOVE has become. It brought to basics what we all know deep inside: when you rely on someone else to justify your existence, it is addiction, not love. You have to first love yourslef, accept your own faults and treat yourself kindly before you can give and receive the same type of love - the right kind that lifts you and make you better. 

We ought to open ourselves up and let love in instead of falling into it.

A line from the move The Perks of Being a Wallflower stuck with me - You accept the love you think you deserve. Word.

3. Lastly, this video urges us to look deep in ourselve to find our true purpose. I think it is similar to the message in 2 above. What are we really here for? Who am I really? 

I’ve been struggling with these questions most part of my life. I am the eldest daughter of a single mother. I’ve had roles and responsibilities cast on me from a young age - be the big sister, help the mother and the brothers, be a good student and role model, don’t ask for anything in return because you are the cause of the divorce.

I fought back in my own way as a rebelious teenager.

Then I got married and became a mother at a really young age and the whole cycle repeated itself. I’m not going to talk about whether I was ready for marriage or motherhood - that’s for another time.

My point is, there are pre-defined expectations that come with these roles and to some extend I had to fulfill them because i was biologically programmed to ensure my children get the best of me...

So, now I am confronted with the question - who am i really?

[superbova]

Back to beginning

My last post was 4 years ago. 

I’ve since shut down the beauty business, landed back in advertising where I had moved across 3 agencies.

Now I’m back to the beginning. But is this really the beginning or a new start? Has anything changed this time then?

1. Somewhat like the last time, I know now I’ll never return to #advertisinglife again

2. Again somewhat like the last time, I’m trying to quit smoking. Again.

3. I am still a married/single never having had another long term serious relationship since Y.

4. I’m still not exactly clear what my next steps are but I don’t feel so scared about this.

5. I’m less naive about human intentions and their capacity to hurt, and conversely love.

6. It takes courage to be different.

[superbova]

It's Just Business - 20 Oct 2014

I mentioned less than 2 months ago that I bought a business. This isn't such a long time but it felt like forever. Good to now take stock of what's been done and what's left to do.

This was what the shop looked like when I took over:

This is what it now looks like:

Gone are the apple green walls, dirty stained overstuffed arm chairs and awkward shelves haphazardly drilled into the wall.

Frankly, it's been quite a ride. To say that the learning curve was steep is an understatement. I dove into an industry that I knew nothing about, took over a team of service staff (nope, never had experience managing non executive sorts), navigated the red tape of work permit applications, foreign worker levies, CPF, taxes, salaries, commissions...you get the drift. All these over and above sleepless nights worrying about meeting sales targets and making ends meet.

What have I gotten myself into?! Most days, I feel like I'm at highest point on a roller coaster ride, waiting to plunge into God knows what. Terror. 

Yet I think about my life as an employee not too long ago and I'm not sure if I want THAT back. 

I am grateful for the people who love and supported me through this, they made it somewhat easier. Writing, too, helps to put things in perspective.

More to come.

[superbova]

Life Changing

Today I took a big step away from the life I know. 

"Dare to dream" is such a cliche and hankered by the expectations of bigness and grandeur. I bought a tiny shop. And in it carries the promise in the next chapter of my life.

It's scary and uncertain and fresh and exciting yet I am so so blessed to be surrounded by people who give their relentless support - no questions asked.

It's comforting and I hope I've done something right to deserve them.

Now on to the next!

[superbova]

We are all better off than we think.

Yesterday I met two ladies working for a non-profit foster care organisation.

They shared some very sobering stories about teenage unwanted pregnancies, single mothers and abandoned children. It got me thinking about how these people and their stories are often thrown into a dark room, locked and kept out from the eyes of our society. One that prides itself on economic wealth, efficiencies and material possessions. 

We have no bandwidth for those who have fallen from the wagon. Does it matter whether their circumstance is of their own doing?

How much do I have to give, to share with the 12-year old pregnant teenager who has been evicted from her home? Or the new born baby boy with a hole in his heart but no parents? Only time will tell. But I know for sure that now that eyes are open, I can no longer look the other way.

[superbova]

2 continents apart. We are all the same but still different. What I realised is nothing should ever stop us from being decent, good people.

[superbova]

This man was driving me across Tehran yesterday, when I learned that he’d lived for 8 years in America— incidentally on the same STREET as me in Georgia. 

He first crossed into the United States from Mexico— paying $1,500 to be transported across the border. He wanted to go to University and be a dentist, but learned that the idea of America was much more bountiful than the reality. He worked at a factory job for 8 years, without ever being able to get a drivers license. He wasn’t able to find a foothold in society. After 9/11, he said things got much tougher for Middle Eastern immigrants. “I had a great passion for the American people,” he said. “When 9/11 happened, I had no money, so instead I gave my blood.”

Five years ago he spent a night in jail for driving without a license. He decided he was tired of being nervous all the time, and he went all out for a green card. When he was turned down, he returned to Iran. 

His fee for a 45 minute taxi ride across Tehran was only $6. I paid him the rate he’d have received in America, and asked for his photograph. He was the kind of man I most admire. The kind that realizes you get one shot at life, and risks everything to make the best of it. I was sorry it didn’t work out for him.

"It was my destiny," he said. He didn’t sound like he believed his own words though.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"Yes. I met my wife when I returned to Iran."

"Well there you go," I said. 

As I prepared to take his photograph, he made one request: ���Don’t photograph me with the taxi,” he said, “it’s a low class job.” 

"It’s not a low class job," I said. "It’s the job of people who take huge risks so their children can be lawyers and surgeons."

(Tehran, Iran)