On my hamster
My hamster looks like its on its last legs. It’s currently spending a lot of time just lying in the sand bath; unusual behaviour since he usually goes in, rolls around in the sand for a second or two, then jumps right back out.
It’s got a massive tumour on its belly, and I am not a vet, but it looks kinda necrotic.
I thought it’d die yesterday, but it’s still alive today.
Small mercies I suppose.
I’ve been hand-feeding it and bottle-feeding it since it seems too weak to feed and drink by itself. It eats only treats now, not even touching the regular grub it gobbles down with gusto every night.
Honestly, coming face to face with mortality early on a Tuesday morning was humbling.
I did not have the heart to do anything yesterday, and just cared for it, as I fed it and replaced its bedding, and let it sip some water. Then I moped around in bed the entire day, read a book, tried to crochet a little, before giving up.
On a friend
Recently, a friend in her 70s, M. from church, was recently admitted to hospital.
“It’s liver cancer, “ they said.
That probably means she doesn’t have much time left.
When a church-mate and I went to see her at the hospital, two words she said made quite an impact:
“Enjoy life.” - M.
Wow.
It stayed with me for a while before fading into the background.
My hamster’s deterioriating condition brought that back to the foreground.
M. is one of the most devout Christians I know, and the most ironic thing is that she is a transgender woman, where her very existence would probably be frowned upon if she entered any other church than our own.
The resounding silence of the mainstream church in Singapore regarding events impacting trans folk of late, yes I am referring to the case of Ashlee who was kicked out of school, and the resulting protest outside the Ministry of Education.
I am sad to say that I knew not a single local trans Christian in my 13 years in evangelicalism and it was only when I started attending Free Community Church that I made friends, and formed close bonds with my trans siblings-in-christ.
It also helped me figure out my identity as a non-binary girl. Yes I know it seems like an oxymoron, but I have always been a walking contradiction. Might elaborate on this another day, let’s go back to talking about death.
On a lack of control
In Singapore, we have been trained since childhood to “plan ahead for the future”. Whether this looks like studying hard for our examinations to guarantee a “good job” as an adult, or saving up one’s salary for a rainy day or a future apartment, it is impossibly ingrained within our psyche.
Perhaps that’s why it frustrated my sister and my mom (perhaps even my dad but he doesn’t talk much so I wouldn’t know), whenever I made decisions that seemed utterly contradictory to how a “typical Singaporean” and a “good girl” would behave.
I would spend money however I wished, and when questioned, my go-to answer would be:
“I could die tomorrow, a tree could fall on me, so I think I’d like to enjoy life today.” - yours truly
It isn’t untrue.
But these days through Buddhism and Taoism, I learn that balance is necessary.
Yet, for all that talk, living in the moment is something I have done very little of. Because of how I was raised, the childhood trauma that I experienced, being closeted for most of my adult life, my mind has always been racing ahead, planning 3 steps ahead for all possible eventualities.
But perhaps my devout Christian friend M. is right, and perhaps the Buddhists monks and nuns I’ve been hanging out with are right too.
We really should embrace the present.
Appreciate the little things in life.
Whether it is an excellent prata paired with curry, or the petrichor emanating from the grass after a brief shower, I think memories are made up of the little things in life.
On love
I’d previously briefly talked about a date I went on.
Turns out I’m a one pretty sticky date (pun fully intended).
It’s been a bit of a whirlwind, and even though I’m not currently in a relationship (I’m in a “situationship” which suits me just fine), it has been an interesting ride thus far.
The accompanying soundtrack to this entire time has definitely got to be Stefanie Sun’s 《遇见》:
“我往前飞 飞过一片时间海
我们也曾在爱情里受伤害
我看着路 梦的入口有点窄
我遇见你是最美丽的意外”
which translates roughly to:
“I hurtle fowards, across an expanse of time
We both have been deeply hurt in love, once before
I see this opening, to the path of dreams, how narrow it is
Meeting you, was an utterly beautiful chance encounter”
An accurate metaphor indeed.
Art is so powerful indeed.
Music too.
Before meeting her, I listened to this song on the commute often, wondering when that special someone would arrive:
我遇见谁 会有怎样的对白
我等的人 他在多远的未来
我听见风来自地铁和人海
我排着队 拿着爱的号码牌
which roughly translates into:
This person I meet. What conversations would we share?
I wait for another. How far ahead in the future could they be?
I hear the wind rushing amongst the trains and human traffic
I wait in line, holding the queue ticket to that which is “Love”
And there is something lost in translation surely. The English is never as poetic as the Chinese, the Malay, the original languages it is translated from, but we do what we can.
There have been peaks, and there have been troughs, and yet through it all, my heart, it sings.
How strange it is, for someone with a severe case of alexithymia, that I’m only learning how to identify my emotions in my mid-30s.
A decade and a half of being in evangelical churches hasn’t quite taught me what the “love of God” feels like. Although that doesn’t keep one from trying.
A month and a half of being in a situationship has shown me that I am capable of so much more.
Of caring for another, being concerned, missing another, delight, ecstasy, despair, the list goes on.
My hamster’s impending demise has taught me that I am capable of great compassion, of tenderness, of sadness.
All my life I have been implicitly taught or explicitly told to block out my feelings, to suppress them, and ignore them.
But perhaps God created all of us with a spectrum of feelings, a wheel of emotions to experience life with.
Perhaps I am but only learning and accessing this rich bank of vocabulary that has been once blocked by authority figures in my life.
Perhaps we are meant to delve to the deepest depths, and rise to the highest mountaintops of all that we are meant to feel, in every single situation.
Perhaps this numbness, this apathy, this stoic, stiff upper lip, present all my life is not normal.
Conclusion
I am grateful for all that has passed.
And if it ends, it is perhaps the seed for a new beginning.
We shall see.
Meanwhile my friends, I cannot urge you more strongly to:
“Enjoy life.”
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