Be the river, not the rock

My friend Tamizan is what 12-year-old me wanted to be growing up: Smart, independent, financially stable and a homeowner. She’s only in her mid-thirties and already kicking ass at adulting.

Like me, she's a cultural milkshake too - a child of Indian parents who immigrated to Canada. Tamizan was born into Western society with the traditional expectations of Asian culture. We’ve had plenty of discussions about our upbringings and how it has shaped us as women - our sometimes strained relationship with our parents as we seek out independence. A lot of that has spilled over into our dating lives.

In Frederick Travis’ book, ‘Your Brain is a River, Not a Rock,’ our brains are said to be an interface between us and the world, and will change based on our experiences throughout our lives. These shape our perspective of ourselves and the world around us.

Last year, Tamizan got sick. She was bed ridden, lethargic and in pain. The kind of sickness that even after months of tests, the doctors couldn't figure out why her body has suddenly begun to attack her body from the inside out.

Choose to be the energy in the room, don't adapt to it

I’ve spent the last five years in introspection, digging right down to the bedrock to make sense of the woman I was becoming. Yet lately I’ve been asked to embrace a much different energy. Last year, apart from living through a pandemic, I also had emergency surgery. I had been in severe pain for three days until my mum finally convinced me to go to see my doctor on the fourth. I didn’t go home after that, just straight to A&E. It took me out for two months - no dancing, no climbing, no hiking.

Funny things happen when you’re forced to be still. It planted a seed of thought that's just now manifesting in my world (mostly because I'm a procrastinator when it comes to these things).

I’ve been part of the waiata (singing) group at work for almost as long as I’ve worked there. Singing is something I enjoy and it’s a great way to get to know your workmates. I can sing in tune most of the time but I’ve always been more comfortable as part of the ensemble, not as a soloist. I would turn up to waiata on a Friday, and all around me I could many around me holding back. So I held back too. We mirrored each other, and for a while I felt our growth as a group stagnate.