A life of action balanced with contemplation
On the anniversary of my Mother’s death this year, I spent the day walking the grounds and acquainting myself with my new role as a Residential Student Life Manager at the university. Coincidentally, it was also the first week of first-year orientation activities for the new academic year. Morning workshops gave me a sampling of the 400-odd first-years I would support, and the afternoon’s Student Life Fair set all corners of the college abuzz. In the evening before the anniversary, I asked my father if he would like to visit the columbarium on the day of or around the anniversary. For some time now, we had been choosing the latter option for ‘mummy’ occasions, not out of indifference, but as a way to embrace the present in a healthier manner. Avoiding the rush to northerly Mandai — he from the east and I from the west — amidst a weekday evening’s peak hour traffic seemed wise. Consequently, I decided to stay for the night-time orientation workshops, eager to make the most of the opportunity for personal interaction with residential faculty and students before the busyness of the semester set in. I arrived home past midnight, and likewise gave myself permission to not have to write a note of remembrance on the day of, but around the anniversary.
As I wrote this note, I noticed that my most recent article in my Medium publication, titled ‘Life, Faith, and Family,’ was also a tribute to my Mother on the anniversary of her passing from the previous year. It seemed that, as far as my Medium entries were concerned, it had not been a prolific year. While I was at it, I revisited my note from 2022, titled ‘Time,’ and found comfort in seeing that my principles today were consistent with those reflected in my reflections from a year ago.
In my previous remembrance note, I shared a thought exercise that had been close to my heart and had influenced several key turning points during my college years. I used to reevaluate my life in the context of a critical scenario similar to my Mother’s — experiencing (and therefore my) late-stage cancer in our early thirties. As I moved deeper into my twenties, the realisations hit harder, and my empathy for her, facing such a challenge at an age I could now relate to as a peer, only grew stronger. At the same time, I made sure not to centre everything around this exercise, thanks to the guidance of my counsellors and my faith guiding me forward. Despite some eventual rejections of the ‘hustle life’ and most courses of action predicated on the assumption that time was under our control, I still embraced my desires and youthful enthusiasm characteristic of many young adults. However, with each round of contemplation, every corner of my heart’s thoughts became more informed of the complex value of time.
Eventually, I learned to respect time enough not to belittle its inexorability. Simultaneously, I also refrained from being anxious to race against it. Time was a gift — evident from every morning’s involuntary return to consciousness, prompting us to value and build rhythms around all that was important to us. Just like understanding the familiar economics of money, I developed a greater appreciation for the intricate economics of time.
Today, I find myself on the cusp of my thirties, with my days of being a 28-year-old numbered. My mother used to playfully ‘remind’ my sister and me that if anyone asked, she was always 28 years old. Taking a moment to contemplate how the decisions I made in my twenties turned out differently from what my younger self would have anticipated, I once again ponder the seasonal question of how I would approach my life with Time as my guide.
Recently, I found it valuable to celebrate my father’s retirement with an extended trip overseas. However, this celebration was not just about the milestone; it was also an active exercise in understanding the economics of time, as mentioned earlier.
I found immense happiness in several aspects of this trip:
Firstly, we explored new and vastly different places that we had never been to before. Secondly, we were able to be generous with our time in the itinerary, visiting his old friends and our distant relatives whom he had not seen in years. Thirdly, a significant part of our journey retraced family trips we took when our mother was still with us. In this way, my father served as an ‘in memoriam’ guide, while I took on the role of the physical guide for most of our destinations.
(At this point, I would like to address two things: Firstly, it was unfortunate that my sister couldn’t join us, by no fault of her own. I eagerly look forward to reuniting with her soon and us embarking on many more trips together. Secondly, I don’t often mention her in most of my reflections not because she had little involvement in these recollections, but out of respect for her space, narratives, and voice. I value her individuality and the way she shares her experiences with her own audiences.)
Since this trip, I have quietly returned to Singapore and begun a new phase of my ever-pensive peregrination over the past week, with the backdrop of 400 new undergraduates in their late teens to early twenties. All this while, I have had to muster the discipline of allowing ample time and space for further contemplation as time marches on unforgivingly, carrying me from one state of being into the next. I may say this to students as a freshly-minted Residential Student Life Manager, but I have always advocated for a life of action balanced with contemplation. I must admit that on the surface, these endeavors may not always appear to result in palpable triumph. I recently shared with a close friend seeking counsel that, contrary to their impression, I have often struggled with sleepless nights, convincing myself that I have got it all wrong. That is because narratives can be spun in various ways, whether from other people or the voices within our heads. They can be accusatory, judgmental, or dismissive. Even on our best days, they can turn ugly, hateful, and depressing. “He’s changed paths from finance, to public service, to entrepreneurship, and so on all just because he could not take the heat each time!” ; “you’re still single, and not earning as much money as you should or working as hard as you should in your twenties,” ; “I should not have wasted my time on this person, or that project”. Alas! Our journeys from one point to another can be perceived as either stories of losers or winners, depending on the values of the observer.
Honestly, I do not have a definitive answer to the ambivalence of assurance in the life of a stressed-out millennial, except for the personal assurance provided by my Christian faith. It was all too fitting and merciful that my mother discovered this same assurance in the onset of her final years, the perspective-shift and life-changing surrender to Christ which has burdened (Matthew 11:28–30) and shaped my life for the past 18 years and running.
So even as I write this note in memory of my mother, I also implore all my friends who are reading this, Christian or not, to keep pondering on what it is that truly matters in life.
Doing so slows me from merely going with the flow — an assurance in the crowds that perhaps showers me with immediate rewards of money, status, and possessions* to keep me aboard but leaves me insatiably in search for the next fleeting pleasure.
Ponder, decide, and ponder again. A life of action balanced with contemplation. For there will come a time when it all matters.
4 Aug 2023.
*I am mindful of misreadings that these things in themselves are evil or that people who simply have money, status, or possessions are evil. Such readings miss the point, which is the relationship of our person to these things, and our regular contemplation of these altogether.
*Other pieces on Medium written in memoriam my mother:
2020 Oct: Experiencing Empathy with My Late Mother
2020 Oct: My Confession: I Cheated On A School Assessment
2020 Nov: My Mother Would Have Been 51 Today
2021 Aug: First Seizure, Final Picture
2021 Aug: Wisdom and Gratitude in Learning I Had No Control
2022 Aug: Time
