Distilled Moment

As my grief moves from centre stage, my forlorn rebounder (tiny trampoline) and slant board gain my attention.  So too my various weights and resistance bands.  All were gathering dust in the past three or four months.  Grief took a lot out of me.  It is still there, I am allowing it to come and go as it pleases, but it no longer consumes me.  I am beginning to take tiny steps to regain some physical strength.  It is very easy to give in to pain and not move at all.   I used to read, listen or watch Peter Attia and he offered ample evidence that flexibility and mobility could be maintained if, as we age, muscle mass is not excessively lost. https://peterattiamd.com/ “Peter Attia explores strategies and tactics to increase lifespan, healthspan, and well-being, and optimize cognitive, physical, and emotional health” Time to read my unopened emails from Peter! My easiest go to movement is walking  https://youtu.be/R10u9h7j24E This video points o...

My last post was done on April 10.  I have not done much of anything in the last three months.  I do the minimum to keep my plants alive and my living space reasonably clean.  I cook a little to keep from getting hungry.  I have thousands of unread emails.  In the past, even if in pain I would do some basic movements to keep my body from jamming up.  Would read a book or two to keep my brain fluid.  These past three or four months, I have been feeling broken:  mind, body and soul.  Nothing seems to add up.  Lost a sense of myself? For those of you who have read my previous posts, you would have figured out that my childhood wasn’t exactly peachy.  I thought I worked pretty hard in building something better, but a series of events indicated my efforts came to naught? Today I went for a walk, stopping at the many benches to cope with my pain and lack of stamina.  I was also constantly praying to Allah, asking a way out of this mu...

  When my son was five, he started kindergarten.  We were studying in Canada.  To my chagrin, his teacher discovered he was so short sighted he could not see the board.  I was shocked!  All of a sudden, the puzzling incidents of the past came tumbling out to mock me.  Why didn't I think of that!  Never crossed my mind he had issues with his eyes.   He loved stories, on TV or being read to him.  Yet, he hated “going to the movies “.  The only movie he liked was ET.  When I looked back, we watched ET in the front row with our heads bent backwards.  It was very uncomfortable, but he enjoyed it.  We were a bit late and all comfortable seats were taken. He watched TV real close, and even when told to move back, he would end up right next to the screen.  He enjoyed the colourful autumn leaves, but only those on the ground.  He refused to look up! There was one incident where he ran ahead and hugged a man that look...

  Whenever I felt like I was going out of my mind, I walked  along the Swan River.  I walked alone, mile after mile, at times for the whole day.  There was a secluded spot that was somewhat a sanctuary and at the same time an enticing place to just walk deeper and deeper into the water and not look back.  Death seemed so blissful then. I forced myself to stay away from the place and sought refuge in the library instead.  Three books provided significant roadmaps to help me move out of my confusion: Alan Watts. The Meaning of Happiness: The Quest for Freedom of the Spirit in Modern Psychology and the Wisdom of the East  Erich Fromm. The Art of Loving  Viktor E. Frankl. Man's Search for Meaning  I plucked the courage to major in psychology.  I was always curious about the underlying mechanisms of people's behaviours.  I managed to enroll in three subjects: psychology, anthropology, and basic philosophy.  I had to take another cla...

Even though I often infuriated my mother when I was little, she tended to  bring me along if she wanted medical attention.  Due to the lack of care when she gave birth to the twins, she had many health issues.  Hospitals and clinics in those days were not the friendliest of places for a village lady.  I guess she brought me along for "borrowed" courage.  There were very few Malay staff members and being insulted and screamed at were the norm?  It made me seeth inside and I promised myself that one day I would become a compassionate doctor, especially to the Malay village folks. After my matriculation, I started medical school.  I ended up missing the first month of school.  My ulcers acted up and I was hospitalised.  I blacked out in biology class.  The tutor, a giant sturdy lady, carried me to the clinic.  I probably was allergic to the formaldehyde in the dissection specimen?  The chemistry tutor was mad at me because my gogg...

My Colombo Plan's scholarship in Australia was 130 Australian dollars.  I sent 30 to my mother.  I wanted so much for my younger sisters to continue schooling.  A small student stipend became even smaller, certainly requiring a very careful and tight management of my budget.  Anyhow, I thought buying a Bernina sewing machine would pay off in the long run. Saving every single cent, every week, I paid a small amount for it.  I went hunting for materials in Salvation Army stores.  For very little money, I could buy very big pieces of clothing which were made from beautiful and expensive materials.  I then unpicked the seams and refashioned them.  Here is me in a jumpsuit made from summer wool When my first child was born, I had to give up my scholarship. Money was very tight.  My sewing skills came in very handy.  I continued to sew for many years until my illness made it too difficult.  I kept hoping that someday I would sew again....

When I was little, one of my favourite chores was keeping dry goods into bottles.  Sugar, flour, salt were packed into old newspapers.  The shopkeeper would take the amount needed from a large sack, huge tin or earthenware urn and wrap the goods with pieces of newspaper.  That gave me some reading material and a glimpse of a world outside of my village. When I was ten, I saw a picture of a "twist" dress on one of those newspaper pieces.  It was a dress cut slim to the hips and then the bottom half would be gathered full. When you dance the "twist", the bottom half would flare up, exaggerating your movement. The folly of a pre teen :-) The picture conjured up such a pretty vision in my head. I showed it to my mother and asked her to make it for me.  She was livid! Every year in the month of Ramadan, my father would buy a bolt of material for my mother to make clothes for us to celebrate Syawal.  For that year, my mother gave me whatever was left after making...