resting on my laurels backing west

today, Joey Yap told me to look back at my past and rest on my laurels for two hours. to be kind and proud of what i've done so far so i sat down, with my back facing the West and wrote this.

...

i've come to realise that most problems lie in these two areas, heavily mourning the past or stressing about the uncertainty of the future. we've heard this time and time and time again, the present is a gift, focus on the NOW, which are all painfully simple proposals but with ninja level difficulty to practice.

when i look back and read my blog posts, i cringe hard. but it was also painfully clear that i was deeply wounded, aimless and had no idea which direction to head, let alone move forward. however, a little over 10 years later, i'm still here with a little more understanding of what i was ranting about all those years.

to some 10 years may seem like a long time, to some not so much but i did not give myself any time frame to get better, to feel better. i didn't even know if it were possible. i just kept moving forward. at times it felt like i was not moving at all because i had to take a few steps back first.

in the past my ultimate goal/ambition was to get back on stage because in my mind, that equated success. it meant that i won. won what? won against the voice in my head that said that i was faceless now that i had become a mother and wife. this happened many times until i decided to take back that voice in my head, which also meant to actively work towards removing that power from the stage.

this did not mean that i would stop performing, but it shifted my focus from making the stage the goal. this meant that i needed to spend time with the process or developing a new way of creating. something that i absolutely do not know how to do.

if i look back at my past narratives, themes of my works you'd get the sense of a battle with an invisible enemy, which really was this voice in my head. funnily enough, that voice in my head was what kept me going all these years, which is good in a way because i never gave up but it also meant that i was never quite satisfied with myself. i always ended the production feeling like i was back at square one.

being back at square one and repeating narratives did not sit well with me but i had no idea how to look forward because i was still very much emotionally stuck in the past. there were many layers that needed to be unlearnt, removed and i did not know how to do this but somehow i tried. i mean how does one even begin to unlearn one's childhood?

now, as i look back i realise that all the decisions i made about dance heavily revolved around my insecurities and lack. my stamina was non existent so I focused on abhinaya, i knew that my technique needed so much work so i avoided it as much as i could. until i challenged myself to complete one of the most complex pallavis i had ever learned.

this was how dedicated was created really. i wanted to perform something that was my own (and incredibly difficult) and i dared myself to perform this impossible task in front of an audience a year after giving birth to my third child. some like diving out of planes, some like to do things like this. we will never know why...

after presenting dedicated i felt a little more confident about my relationship with Odissi so i agreed to join Sooraj and spent a week with Madhavi Mudgal in Delhi. this was the first time i spent away from my entire family. it was 10 days of unlearning, intense physical pain, going back to complete basics but a complete reset to my system and training. i returned home believing in myself, i believing in my body.

i had romantic ideas that dedicated would travel and tour, but it did not and it broke my heart. but life lead me to Pichet and i fell in love with dance art again. in this production i was reminded of the importance kindness, respect, generosity, compassion, love. it was healing. i came home and felt like i had moved forward somehow. 

i remember lamenting every time our rehearsals ended and i had to leave Bangkok and return back home about the pending domestic chores waiting for me and he said 'just do it! you know it will be there, so walk in to the house expecting it and do it.' 

this lead me to my next production reclaim, which was for me a tremendous departure from Odissi. in this work i focused on me. what i did every day. this investigation brought me closer to the present, allowed me to find gratitude in my everyday and also showed me a perspective of Odissi i had never seen before. 

...and because my works also need to have a fear element for myself, i also decided not to give the audience what they expected of me. again, this was my way of taking my own power back.

funnily enough 3 months after reclaim the world came to a halt and reclaim became our lives. everyone was pushed back into their homes and forced to deal with their inner worlds. artists had to deal with themselves without the stage. we had to come to terms with the mundanity of life, a term that was often shunned by artists but here we are.

we've come out of lockdown only to be forced back into many versions of this. last year was 'what is a more severe word of difficult?' last year was '______________' enter your own word here. i shuffled in and out of very dark places and sincerely learnt how to be kind to myself. somehow, with the grace of the powers that be, and wonderful beings that i proudly call friends, i was able to reconnect with dance once again.

i started a virtual mentorship with Bijayini Satpathy whom i have watched and admired for years. i applied for an online mentorship program hosted by Dance Nucleus (Singapore) and got accepted. i started online classes with people i don't know on instagram. it took a great deal of effort to come to terms with my fears and insecurities but this time i took them in, held them close and moved together with these insecurities knowingly. i did not avoid them, and i also did not go to the virtual realm and spent time venting about it there.

10 years is a long time to some. not really that long to others. but it is time spent and time that has passed. what i have learned amongst all of this is that feelings, breakdowns, darkness of the mind, they tend to pass but they also reappear and repeat. there are also no right or wrong ways to feel it or express it but the more times it's under rug swept you may one day trip and fall over it. 

this time that we're in right now is a time none of us has ever experienced before. be kind to yourself, be gentle and patient. when things come to the surface look at it. you don't have to deal with all of it at one go but look at it, let it pass. the next time it surfaces i promise you that you will be able to deal with a little more of it. one day you will find yourself (when you least expect it) saying hi to it like an old friend, when it comes to the surface once again.

life is long as it is short and its only purpose is for it to be lived. 

the only person who is living your life is you.

the only solution lying between you and the problem is you.

i'm pretty sure that you have all it takes to fix it.

...

reset

 reset

 

5 4 3 2 1…

 

_ set again or differently.

_ to put (a broken bone heart) back in the correct position for healing

_ to put (a gem) into a new piece of jewellry

 

 

2020 was a beast. It was the year we cracked open and raw, brutal truth oozed all over us and with the help of social media, our past hurt and wounds were shared across the world for all to see. And because of the mighty strength from the keyboard and courage from the shield of the screen we leapt at any chance we got, to share the first things that came to mind barely giving it a moment’s thought.

 

For the first time in a long time we have been forced to separate from one another, to actively distance ourselves physically and yet we seem so intimately woven into each others minds and lives. Through the sorcery of the virtual world we are now force fed curated 60-second versions of ourselves and we are convinced this defines a person’s character, morals and values.

 

When the whole #metoo movement came to light I asked myself many a time what I would do if I were in the same positions as these women, as both victim and witness. Last year, I was put in this exact position under different circumstances but forced with the same choices. Which side would I stand on?

 

You see, as a 35-year-old mother, wife, woman, friend, daughter, human being, I pride at the wide spectrum of my belief in the ‘grey’. I am becoming less and less interested in compartmentalising people by their gender, race or sexual orientation and I am leaning more towards wholesome concepts like kindness, generosity, humility and compassion. Growing is big one for me so a huge no-no is lack of growth, lack of compassion and lack of kindness.

 

Over the course of my life in the arts I have made many friends but I have let go of many friendships as well. Such is life, as painful as it may be it is necessary to break apart to set oneself into the correct position for healing.

 

One needs to unlearn

__ in order to grow.

 

One needs to reset

__ in order to grow.

Based on my past narratives, apparent in my writings and work, you could sense the trapped insecurities, trauma and inner child wounds, which stemmed from not knowing how to love and respect myself. Every blog post, every dance production was steeped in self-doubt searching for validation.

However what happens once you’ve told every story, danced out every hurt? Which direction do you start to walk towards? How do you even stand up?

 

You don’t. You don’t stand up. You sit there for a while. And last year, that’s what I did. As uncomfortable as it was I sat with myself and allowed myself to grieve the loss of my past self but at the same time welcome this new sense of being with open arms.

 

Last year, many truths were uncovered and every truth came to the surface. People took their stands and as painful as it was it made it easier to let go and wholeheartedly walk away for the very first time.

 

Many questions arose within me and at first I had no answers. Perhaps overwhelmed with emotion I could not think but even then I knew what was right and what was wrong. For the first time I was made to recognise how much weight my words held and how important it was to stand up for myself. 

I could finally ‘reclaim’ all the parts of me.

 

So I sat. I sat for a while but I also realised that I was not alone. There were many who sat with me, who held space for my words, my voice and my emotions. We sat together and helped tend to each other’s wounds. We knew how to ebb and flow, we knew when to take space and when to come together. After all, art was our common ground. Sometimes, words were unnecessary.

 

I questioned my childhood, my adolescence, my twenties and all the decisions I have consciously made till today. It was simple, I grew up took ownership and responsibility for this person standing here today. I have also learned to be truly grateful for all the hardships, ‘lost’ opportunities and work I put in to create this person.

 

Last year was a beast of a year but it was also the year where I grew up. I truly learned how to support my family on my back while showing up for myself. I found strength in others and experienced the concept of being selfless.

 

My relationship with my dance levelled-up once more. Who would have thought, from only dancing for seconds, it grew into minutes and today I am carving out spaces for other women to realise long lost dreams. 

 

I see you, I see all of you in me. None of this has been easy, every time I am brought back to square 1 it takes twice the amount of effort to start again but I have done it more than I can remember. 

But now I know that there is nothing wrong with starting again. 

it is never too late

it is never too late

it is never too late to start again.

Oof...2020.

 Oof...2020.

As someone born in the year of the wooden ox, this metal rat year was supposed to be great for me. Joey Yap said so...but I guess even he could not predict what was going to go down this year. None of us saw it coming.

We're in the final month of 2020 and my mental health has had quite a journey. The first round of lockdown felt like I was hit by a bus, throw in online learning, all the meals multiplied by three months power to 5 people and you get a math equation I have never done in this lifetime. I hit what felt like rock bottom, but I kept going because well, I had mouths to feed and little people who needed me. 

To keep me going I volunteered to cut plastic aprons for our frontliners. I committed to one plastic bale and then another and then another and then one more. It felt good to have purpose, to do something for people other than yourself. I agreed to teaching some classes online, till well I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

I stopped the classes, I stopped sharing stories on social media, I stopped my own personal practice and sat with all my self-loathing for a couple of months unsure if I would feel better again. Somehow, I did.

The children went back to school at the end of August, I went back to the gym and we hit the ground running. I felt great, I started de-cluttering the house, made space in my basement once again and then the second round of lockdown happened.

This time would be better, I told myself. We were fortunate to borrow two laptops from family and the whole house went online. I pasted all the Zoom IDs and passwords onto the wall in the living room and also stuck all 3 different timetables up. Everyone, would be responsible for their calls and homework. I organised my basement studio and boosted my router. I also decided to offer classes to get myself going, to force myself to practice and share what knowledge I had with others. More than anything I wanted to reconnect and find out how other people were doing and somehow create an online community of healing through art.

Everything was going pretty great in the first month, then the second month came and went, and here we are starting our third month at home and in the final month of the year and all of a sudden I feel the familiar sense of dread, self-loathing, the heavy, sticky feeling of unworth.

I look around my home and am grateful for everything that I lay my eyes on but I am cranky, moody, naggy, irritable and short with everyone. My children shriek with joy at the prospect of heading to my mother's house, where they can get away from me, the grumpy wicked troll of the west.

My children didn't do too well on their online assessments as well and I feel responsible. I tell myself that my children are fortunate to even continue their lessons online but they have fallen behind. They are young, I tell myself and need to be in a physical classroom, to be in the presence of their teachers, to get feedback, to play with their friends, but I am wracked with guilt. What about all the other children out there, falling behind. 

My motivation comes and goes, my grit has worn off, my energy levels are blahh and social media makes me feel like a failure. It makes me feel lazy and unsuccessful. 

As I'm typing all of this I immediately think to myself, stop complaining, stop whining, get off social media, get onto your mat, be grateful, no one cares, there are real problems out there in the world and I feel like I should send this post to the trash. This is the exact reason why I haven't written in so long. Because honestly, I read my old posts and I cringe. I feel embarrassed about how much I wrote and how little I did about it. 

But if I learned anything at all this year it would be that healing is continuous and never ending. That episodes and triggers keep coming back because life is such, and it's okay to feel things because there are no right or wrong feelings. I've also noticed that whenever I feel like this, completely down in the dumps, it usually lasts till I cannot stand it anymore and then I get back up and dust off my knees and continue. 

My hurt has fuelled me to do many things and has definitely assisted me to keep going but the inner turmoil has never really gone away. I am a lot kinder to myself and I catch myself as I spiral down into the abyss but I am not so afraid when I am down there in the dark by myself. 

The cleared basement has helped create an escape room for me to be alone with some Alan Watts and my Spotify playlist. I'm pretty sure I'm doing better, I've grown up a lot this year and have taken responsibility of my emotions and reactions and all my shame.

I am no superhuman and no one really expects me to be one. And that is okay.