How do you eternalise something? An experience, a thought, a moment. How do you ensure that you are ready enough to take a step towards a life changing chapter, and conversely, how do you promise yourself that you will never forget its participation? From embarking on a travel trip to a distant exotic land, to recalling your seating partner in a class during Form 2? From being told "you are not mature enough, you will never understand such experience" to "I've forgotten what is was like, then."
Perhaps it lies in immersing in a moment, as it is, as a whole, regardless of age or dexterity. Of collecting a state of awareness, to notice the sentiment, the details, that will lock an incident or action. By noting down certain odours and capturing it with another memory, by archiving snippets of random conversation and framing it together with a scene of joviality, by recording the rustle of clothing and the traffic static. So that the series of days fluttering by throughout the years would have some sense of meaning and gravity, as to not be forgotten and matter. And that no matter what age, no matter how long it has passed, the experience will not be lost in a gaping canyon of foggy moments, to be forgotten and frittered away with time. So that - so that - the days that are being lived in, matters. Even the slow ones, the dull ones, the epic ones. And that life should be a tapestry that was appreciated and consumed, in all its imperfection, with all its highs and lows.
It's in appreciating every moment.
- Like how a particularly grey day with a low, pale sun reminds me of Manchester mornings.
- Or how the smell of flowery Rexona deodorant brings me the golden sunlight that filtered through the dorms of Kolej Anggerik.
- The way the swish of hard plastic with its acidic, antiseptic, new plastic smell, would transport me years back to the booths of F1 in School, all the way in PD, and then Subang, and then Alam Sentral.
- How recalling the twinkling lights of Putrajaya still holds me prisoner, to a time frame and state of mind that is heaven sent.
- And listening to Winter Wonderland I'm back traipsing the grey pavements along Cheetham Hill, mumbling through the icy coldness the lyrics to the song with my mother, sister. and brother.
- And writing this, relieves me knowing that perhaps in 30 years I could look back and still remember and live my life again, through this flimsy record.
Perhaps it lies in immersing in a moment, as it is, as a whole, regardless of age or dexterity. Of collecting a state of awareness, to notice the sentiment, the details, that will lock an incident or action. By noting down certain odours and capturing it with another memory, by archiving snippets of random conversation and framing it together with a scene of joviality, by recording the rustle of clothing and the traffic static. So that the series of days fluttering by throughout the years would have some sense of meaning and gravity, as to not be forgotten and matter. And that no matter what age, no matter how long it has passed, the experience will not be lost in a gaping canyon of foggy moments, to be forgotten and frittered away with time. So that - so that - the days that are being lived in, matters. Even the slow ones, the dull ones, the epic ones. And that life should be a tapestry that was appreciated and consumed, in all its imperfection, with all its highs and lows.
It's in appreciating every moment.
- Like how a particularly grey day with a low, pale sun reminds me of Manchester mornings.
- Or how the smell of flowery Rexona deodorant brings me the golden sunlight that filtered through the dorms of Kolej Anggerik.
- The way the swish of hard plastic with its acidic, antiseptic, new plastic smell, would transport me years back to the booths of F1 in School, all the way in PD, and then Subang, and then Alam Sentral.
- How recalling the twinkling lights of Putrajaya still holds me prisoner, to a time frame and state of mind that is heaven sent.
- And listening to Winter Wonderland I'm back traipsing the grey pavements along Cheetham Hill, mumbling through the icy coldness the lyrics to the song with my mother, sister. and brother.
- And writing this, relieves me knowing that perhaps in 30 years I could look back and still remember and live my life again, through this flimsy record.
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