Anniversary

 

I rode along the Gold Coast coastline, the air was filled with the scent of salt as well as light fragrance of flowers. It was cool, not cold, just right after another warm, humid day in the Summer heat.

Yes, it's February, and for the first time in my 39yrs of life, I am spending my birthday in the Summer.
I feel  relatively at ease, and today has been a decent day. Went to uni to attend a class (the last compulsory class before I am eligible to go through the confirmation process, something I'm hoping I can do in the next half a year or so, and be fully an PhD student). I booked myself to catch my first ever movie at the HOTA (mind you, I also treated myself to Beethoven's 9th on Saturday), and had a quick dinner at the best Chinese/Malaysian Chinese restaurant I have had since I got here.

The movie was something that seemed to attract me, called The Son. After the tumultuous two weeks with my brother's family in Holland, where there were many tough conversations about his son (my nephew), I somehow felt this may be a fitting movie to watch. I admit, I went there with the intention of perhaps telling my brother how he should also watch the movie so that perhaps he can learn something about fatherhood and be a "better"  parent. The image of his son/my nephew crying and telling me how much he hates his father or wishes that he were not living there pains me greatly... The image of my niece crying and telling her own dad to be kinder to her brother tore at my heart strings.

The movie was not exactly as I imagined it. It was well done, and the acting quite fine. But it addressed mental health issues and trauma, and there were moments that were hard to watch because you could foresee what would happen...

There is certainly a lot centred on the theme of regret. Regret of not being a better father. Regret of turning into the kind of father one vowed never to become. Regret of not being there. Regret of the pain inflicted by absence and by longing that never was filled. So much trauma, so much deep pain that caused a teenager to experience such angst and void that he wants to hurt himself (and worse)...

There were moments that were very touching. But still, nothing really pushed me over the edge to actually shed a tear.

Perhaps the story is a bit too remote from my own experience of being a son. Perhaps as I am not a father, hence I cannot know what it feels like to be one, to realise that you inadvertently become who you vow never to be.

But I can imagine (or am I superimposing my own feelings and thoughts?) how my brother may feel like. I have known for some time he is such a deeply unhappy person, and sadly that is manifesting in his relationship with his own family... his own wife, and to some extent, his own kids.

How broken, or perhaps unwell, one must be inside that you feel such distance (or perhaps disdain?) for the people who are your closest kin...) It saddens me greatly. Really, I cannot describe the sorrow I feel/felt when I was there. It's one thing to treat me poorly (with silence, not responding when I make a comment, or simply saying nothing), but it's another to speak in such a hard tone to your own child.

I fear that the children will grow up feeling alienated and feel so distanced from their own father.
What trauma will they experience? How will that impact their self-esteem, confidence, their growth and upbringing? And what will my brother wake up one day to? An empty home and no - one who will put up with his  moods and temperament. I can just see it. He will just end up all alone. Even now, especially the last visit, I have said very little to him and just spend time with the kids (pretty much all the cooking, grocery shopping, making sure the kids have food and pack their lunches were on me...). Would I even go see him if the kids were not living there anymore? 

And they are growing up fast. One day, perhaps sooner than later, the kids will leave home. And then what? 

I feel such sadness... Our parents are no longer around. Perhaps if mum were still around, she could talk some sense into him. But she's been gone over a decade now.
Is my brother still reeling from the void and has not been able to process that? Or is something deep down just deeply wrong and unwell?

My sister-in-law and I have not spoken about this on the recent trip (perhaps I will be there again in two months, so there will be an opportunity). But I wonder how she feels about all this, living with someone who is so estranged and whom she has not spoken to for (I believe) close to two years...  My nephew, 11yr old, said it best when one day he blurted out "They don't love each other..."Kids can see. Kids are sensitive. 

My sister-in-law surprised me with a lovely chocolate cake the day before I left... 

My nephew lit the candles, and they all sang songs before I made a wish.

I did not wish anything for myself, for I feel already quite blessed with opportunities and buoyed with such good people in my life, blessed that I am well, healthy and fit, and on the whole feel contented .

I made a wish. Just a small wish.
I hope it comes true.

Leaving Canada

 

26 Sept 02.51hrs YYZ time

BR35 has been in the air for just over an hour, another 14hrs or so to go till Taipei. This is the moment that in the past few weeks of being and feeling so overwhelmed, I have been looking forward to. Yet I am far too tired, far too numb to even feel, really feel how I am feeling.

What a rush the past 24hrs have been. Watching the latest Downton movie with my friend, something we have long said we would do together, to frantically packing and cleaning everything until the very last minute (really, I had probably 15 minutes to spare and to actually breathe, as friends have been telling me to repeatedly over the past few weeks).

Now I am on my wei. Now I am finally embarking on my journey to an unknown future, to a foreign land where I do not know many people, where the animals and creatures all seem to want to keep you…

What have I just left behind? Again, I am too tired to really realise what it is that I have said goodbye to. Though that is exactly it, as it does not feel like a goodbye, at least not a final goodbye, for I am scheduled to return in around 2 months from now. This flight feels just like all those flights I have taken for work or leisure, with the exception that I have brought 2 large suitcases, as well as my new bike case, together with two carry ons with cash and essential paper that will grant me entry into a new continent and a new country.

These past few weeks have been so excruciatingly painful. Were it not for the kindness and support of dear friends and my ex, I would not have made it. There were so many moments I felt like breaking down, like giving up and crying, for it was just too much.

Sorting, throwing things away, packing, and closing lids to plastic tote bins I have bought to store the many, many mementoes and pieces of paper that mean so much to me now, but perhaps a couple of years down the line are just  yellowing pages or faded words that look lika any other that have endured through time.

It has been especially painful, as all the resistance I had to organising things springs from my fear (very real fear) of again being triggered by memories of past I cannot longer change, a past that is so bitter sweat with the memories of those dear loved ones who have passed on. That, plus the pain of breaking up, of trying to juggle the demands of work and uncertainties of what awaits me in the days, months and years ahead.

All through the past few weeks, I have slept poorly and restlessly, for I am easily stirred by the worry of what is to come, of the many, many things that have been undone or unsaid. True, I have accomplished a lot, yet, like my usual self, I do not recognise what I have managed to do in such a brief time, and mostly on my own, even though there are so many people who are willing to lend a hand. Finally, as things were getting too much, I let people in, and am filled with such pangs of guilt and “being a burden” that I keep apologising for being such an imposition that I am sure I sound so insincere…

My neighbour and ex came by just hours before I was headed to the airport. They kept their cool, they were standing by to help, while I frantically ran around trying to make sense or put some order between packing my bags, throwing all the little objects and items into tote boxes destined for the basement storage locker, and making the place semblance of normality that is ready to be rented out. I spent pretty much the whole of the last day in a van going from one person to another to deliver the leftover furnishing of my first ever apartment. What an ordeal, really what an ordeal it has been, not just the grueling roughness and pain of moving, but also due to the incessant rain that kept pounding everything around us as we tried to criss-cross town.

But I made it. There is no turning back. What has been done, has been done. What has been left undone cannot be done for I have already left Canada.

What am I leaving behind? Dear friends and lovers who have texted to say how much they wish me luck, and how they wish me every bit of happiness and discovery in the new country.

I think it has not yet dawned on me what is really happening, what I have packed up and am leaving behind...

 

Letting go

 5 Sep 2022

 "I know I must let go..." But letting go is the hardest of everything. It's the cause of tears, misery, pain, and such suffering.

The past few weeks I have been sorting out things throughout my apartment. Cupboards that I did not want to or dare to open, I needed to clear out. Drawers that were so full that papers crumpled whenever they are opened, I needed to empty and purge. And tote boxes, I have probably twenty of them now, in various corners of the house, all filling up and ready to be stored. For how long, I do not know.

What I do know that it's been such a long, grueling and painful process. Of sorting things, or tearing things and turning a blind eye to the significance of a past that at the time seemed so important, seemed more important than anything else, so that I can make that difficult decision of throwing it in the bin. Destined for the rubbish tip of history.

My friend came by and helped all this long weekend. I've been reluctant, but he kept on offering. I just feel "bad" bothering others, but I must learn to accept and reach out for help. For it has been so overwhelming that this evening, I broke down and sobbed.

Was it out of self-pity or just the fact that all these feelings have been bottled deep down inside and are welling up? I just could not hold it back. Memories of our times together, memories of our first moments together, the little gifts we have given each other, the kindness and love he has shown me, and continues to show me.

But sometimes, we need to realise, we are there for each other for a period of time in life, and those are the moments we will always have together. Those memories will always live on no matter what, even though at some point fantasies of a life together and of building something beautiful and magical together filled our senses and thoughts. 

We must realise that nothing is permanent, and all will grow, mature, fade, and eventually fade away.

It's more than just letting go. It's also learning to recognise and again facing the reality that some things are just temporary, and that everything will change. Pages have yellowed. Photographs have faded. Not all my clothes will fit me with age. And people will come and go. And I need to let go.

I must learn to let go. 

However painful, however difficult it all is, I must let go.

 

Woken up by anxiety

 

 I could hardly breathe.

There was this oppressive feeling on my chest, and it was not related to my recent battle with corona. I took a nap, as I am still feeling the sideeffects of fatigue and feeling feverish (without actually having a fever).

Then I felt it... This  heaviness on my chest that left me heaving and gasping for air. I felt this unrivaled sense of anxiety, this desperation and heaviness triggered by the pain of letting go, and the anxiety of not knowing what will happen next. I saw myself in a strange unfamiliar environment, feeling lost and isolate. I felt regret, and that nagging feeling of why I chose to embark on this journey, and sense of guilt of putting myself through all this.

This was a premonition, or at least it felt like it. Premonition of how it would be next month when I arrive all alone in Australia. I felt regret, and this immense sense of longing.

Perhaps it's all being triggered by the felt that I have begun packing away my things, and throwing away objects that I do not need. Earlier today, I asked the super to come and figure out whether the building or other neighbours could take some of the furniture so that I would not have to deal with them.

Packing is really one of the most stressful things. And I have so many things I need to shift and sort through, pack away, or throw away, before next month. Exact a month from now. And it is a very daunting task. 

My cousin was here, ostensibly to help me, as she told me prior to her arrival in April. But she left without really doing much, even though she said she would help with painting the walls and packing things away. It was very disappointing, as I thought finally I could have a family member help and be there to face the difficult task of sorting through so many personal effects and items. And I even supported her plan to improve English by enrolling her on an English course. But she has her own plans.

Perhaps this all is the trigger for those feelings that woke up up from my nap just now.
A wake up call that there is a lot more to do, and I must get moving.

Ten years

 It's miraculous how ten years go by. It dawned on me a few weeks ago that it's ten years since mum passed. Those moments in hospital with her, those grueling moments of despair and helplessness seeing her get sick. Those moments are like a long distant dream, but they also appear to be so real, so vivid.

No, I no longer wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares or haunted by harrowing images of hospital wards or deeply pained by the image of mum's (sometimes dad's) kind face. Ten years has passed just like that, and to be honest, as is clear from the fewer entries in this blog, most of those tens years have become routine and repetitive. Ten years is also the same length of time I have worked at the same job--a fact that I was reminded of when my colleagues sprung a surprise on me at our first in-person reception a month back. 

Routine and repetitiveness can be a good thing, as it means that life is going well, and there is little worry or concern in life. That is a far cry from ten, twelve, or even twenty years ago, when there was so much uncertainty, anxiety and unknowns about the future (well, I still have anxieties, and am still faced with unknowns about the future). 

 But routine and repetitiveness can also  feel sad as it makes you wonder what you haive really done, what you have really been doing all this time. Is life just too stable and stagnant that you cannot remember all those wonderful and little things you have done? Has life just become a grind and a blur that just passes by so quickly that certain moments hit you hard how "old" you have grown over the years?

I knelt before the offerings I prepared for mum, and closed my eyes momentarily. In the background Guru Dev Namo, a song that I used to play often to relax mum and (hopefully, as naively as it may be) soothe her physical pain and mental anguish in hospital. I silently asked her to watch over and bless my relatives, my brother, my sister-in-law, my nephew, my niece... (I imagine she has already been doing that). 

Then I felt a void.
Has it been too long that I do not know what I should say to her?
I felt this void...
There appear to be words and thoughts, but I did not have the words to capture them.

Has it been too long that I have "prayed" that I forgot how to communicate with my dearest mum? 

I lay on the sofa quietly, next to my cat, and closed my eyes as the song continued.

Ong namo Guru Dev Namo

Ong namo

Guru dev namo...

 (I bow to the divine teacher.)

 

I felt this pinch of sadness overcome me.
I feel that way sometimes, often when least expected.
A void and loneliness that I think cannot be filled.
Temporary, but enough to leave you feeling so vulnerable, exposed, and broken for moments thereafter.

 I looked around the apartment that I have lived in for close to seven years.
The apartment that I can proudly call my own, the apartment that I remember the day I moved into, I sat on the floor of the empty space and shed some tears.

They were tears of happiness, tears of also sadness.
My first home, yet, my parents are not there to share it with me.
My first home, made possible because of my parents who saved and worked hard to give me a better life.

Thinking back, I realise just then how far I have come. 

And I realise how far I still have to go. 

This little commemoration ceremony may well be the last I hold in this home for some time, for in around three months, I will need to have packed up everything and be ready for the next stage of my journey.

 

Talk

How I wish people would just talk.

Talk so that they understand.

Talk so that they can see.

Tall so that they can begin to see the world through the eyes and mind of another.

We just need to talk, to communicate, to day what is happening in this little isolated world that we call our mind. 

We just need to open up, not be afraid to share and tell another person how we feel, about how we think. .

Imagine how much conflict can be avoided. 

Imagine how much pain and anguish can be minimised.

Imagine how much misunderstanding can be bridged and reconciled. 

After almost two weeks with my family again (...after almost two years apart), I feel this pinge of sadness on the second last night of my departure. Who knows when I will be here again. 

The situation isn't great. There is now a total breakdown of communications between my brother and his wife. The kids are doing fine, but I cannot be worry about how they must be feeling the tensions and unspoken simmer anger and perhaps even hatred that the parents have for one another. Kids are so sensitive. By calling them kids, we seem to diminish their capacity to feel, to sense, to be affected and even traumatised. 

It is cruel that grownups sometimes put their own egos and prejudice above all else, at times at the expense of the children. And it is presuming too much to think of or even call grownups grownups, as if they know or are able to cope with it all. 

For the past hour and a half, I sat with my brother and just spoke. Nothing confrontational, nothing with blame or pointing figures. Just genuinely speaking to him because i genuinely care about his well-being. He even thanked me at one point for caring (though whenever he mentions his wife, it's full of anger, despise and just prejudice). It's been emotionally draining to sit through the first moments. I had invited my sister-in-law to join us, but she outright rejected it, and said there is nothing to talk about, and told me to just go speak to my brother. I felt really dejected about that, actually hurt, as there is no chance at any form of communication if one side just shuts down.

And fair enough, my brother said there is just nothing else to say, as he is not the one who makes decisions and it's all his wife's fault. It is thus at a crossroads, a deadlock, an impasse where neither side wishes to budge.

When you know, you know...

 When do you know the answers you are looking for?
What signs are there to tell you that those are the answers, or at least pointers you have been seeking? 

I am in the midst of a major decision, that could be life-changing (or not). 13 years ago, I was at a similar cross-roads, and I made that leap to jump into the unknown. That was to Canada, to a new country, a new life. One that lasted longer than any chapter of my life to date.

For the past year or so (actually, two years, since 2019, when I created a folder on my laptop called Project Australia), I have been thinking of moving forward from what I've been doing, and pursuing a doctorate degree.

There are doubts, of course. And I may look back (should I ever begin this..) one day in the future, and wished I could travel in time to tell my past self what a terrible mistake was about to be made and hoped that it could be avoided at all costs.

Well, yesterday, I moved further in that direction, buoyed by the reassuring words and advice of a dear colleague (and dare I say, friend, even though she is so much more senior and renowned) who budged me forward and onward. I submitted a scholarship application, which if succesful, will really determine what my next steps are.

When you know, you know. 

And this afternoon, I had such a terrible conversation with my brother. One thing led to another, and it was the first time he revealed to me that he and his wife are having marriage issues. I've know it for some time, I've seen it, even on those brief and occasional visits and stays at their home. But this seems irreperable. There seems to be just so much bitterness and anger that any communication is just impossible.

I can just imagine the scene, feels the tensions, the deathly silence.
I know, because I felt that when I was living with my brother. And he is not the easiest person to live with, let along have a life with. I feared it, more because of the impact this may have on my nephew and niece, who are still young.

But recounting my/own own childhood(s) and experience of growing up, seeing our parents fight, argue about money and different values, I know deep down, it is not healthy. I reminded my brother, while reassuring him that I do not wish to interfere or intervene, that one experience when I was 10 (or 11?) when I said to my mum one night, while she was crying after an argument: "Why don't you separate? Get a divorce? I can't stand to see you so unhappy". Even then, I knew that was not the life to lead. Even then, I knew happiness is so fleeting, and people should not be forced to live together and be a pretend family when there are irreconcilable issues and tensions.

Two people should be brought together by love, not anger or resentment. And that seems to be the situation with my brother and his wife.

Reiterating that I do not wish to intrude in their relationship, as I simply know too little, I  proposed that perhaps they seek marriage counselling. My brother said he was busy, and then just hung up the phone.

I was left extremely saddened, on the brink of tears...

But when you know, you know.

Eve of Mum's anniversary

It's the eve the anniversary of mum's passing. 9 years to the day. 

11 years since we were in Paris, and enjoyed a lovely dinner on the Champs Elyses.
10 years since we canoed on Lake Louise after a beautiful stay at the hotel next to it.
9 years since I tried hard to entertain her, keep her company in those last few weeks, days, minutes of her life.

 

I miss her dearly. And like previous years, the days of the anniversary are so much harder.
It doesn't make sense, for she is long gone. Long gone are the cancer cells, long gone are the hospital wards and agonising wait for results. But that is it. Long gone are also the opportunities to speak to her, to hold her hand, to feel her warmth.

Perhaps it is the perpetual (semi-)lockdown that has made it more of a struggle to break free from this mindset, this sadness and longing. It did not help that last week, I suffered a terrible fall on my bike, due to cracks in the road and tram tracks nearby, leaving me terribly bruised and open wounds on my knee and hands. 

I'm also saddened as the situation between my brother and his wife/family appears once again to be extremely rocky. My sister-in-law reached out to me and said she would like to chat with me one-on-one. Over the weekend, she sent me a video, a harrowing one, of my nephew recounting how he was so frightened by my brother, who apparently slammed the table really hard, and swore at him. My heart sank as I watched the 5min clip... It's not something that you want to see your 9 yr old nephew recount, and to know that he has been crying and even had a nightmare because of the incident.

It just goes to the root of my worries , anxieties and fears, and shows once again, that there is much trauma and baggage that is weighing down on my family. Especially, something is weighing down on my brother, in such a way that he is not able to release whatever is bothering him besides through anger, irritation, frustration and general discontent with the world. Why else would anyone swear and slam the table at a child? His own child, for that matter. 

The rocky relationship with my brother hasn't helped that whenever we speak, it is often a one-sided attempt from me to connect, to which he responds with simple replies or grunts. It's disheartening to say the least, even more so since I make a lot of effort, and make an effort to show how much I care. The issue has also surfaced in recent therapy sessions, in which I find myself straying to the topic of my upbringing and the unhappy childhood abuses that I suffered growing up with him.

All this, and I'm sure many other elements, bring me to my current state of mind. One of being demotivated, distracted, and also just sad. How I wish I could reach out to my mum, and just speak to her, tell her how I am feeling, what has been going on... How I could seek her advice on how to deal with situation with my brother, and what to do in light of the crumbling relations in his family. 

 

 

A year ago today

 

A year ago today, the pandemic was recognised as official.

A year later, 117m infections and 2.6m deaths later, the world is still fighting the most devastating pandemic in recent history. 

How did we let this happen? How did the world just sit idly by, when on 30 January it was clear that Novel Coronavirus was a Public Health Emergency of Global Concern?

This evening, a dear friend called me from the hospital. He was admitted a few days earlier, the second time in two weeks, as he caught it. Most likely one of the more serious variants, as it has affected his ability to breathe and also affected his heart. The fluid is collecting in the heart, he told me. He could barely utter a sentence without breaking into bouts of coughing. He needed to have an oxygenation tube as his lungs could not suck in enough oxygen, and that was  proving dangerous.

Like so many millions before him, he was rushed to hopsital around two weeks ago. Luckily, he had a bed. But one of just a handful, he was told. What happens if there are no beds...? Lingering fever, aches, loss of smell, loss of appetite, and difficulty breathing. He tried to smile, look strong, but through the video chat I could tell he was in a lot of pain. 

It dawned on me, more than ever before. this is real. This is serious. This could be deadly. 

I knew of it. I have read about it. I have seen videos, read accounts, but never so close to this pandemic before tonight, when my friend called me from the hospital room. He told me how he wants to get better, and how he wants to go home to see and be with his parents (like me, he's an immigrant, and far from his parents).

He said he's feeling better, but the doctors do not know when he can be discharged yet. We laughed and joked a bit, but I was stuck for words. I reassured him that I am working on something that we promised to collaborate on together (but, due to the pandemic, I have dragged my feet on actually beginning...). I did really begin the long process of co-authoring this book, and I really want to let him know that because I want him to have something to look forward to.

Could things take a turn for the worse? Why do I feel, at the back of my mind, this nagging dread that there is something sinister? I know he has a series of underlying conditions and that he's always had a weaker immune system. Perhaps that knowledge makes me dread what this coronavirus infecftion could do to him...

We talked about politics, our go-to conversation, about China, our common worry and to an extent hatred for the Chinese government. It really is unbelievable that this was unleashed on the world, and that much of the severity was covered up deliberately at very beginnings in Jan 2020. When six weeks later, the pandemic became official, already thousands have died, at least according to official figures. Due to China's intransparency, the world would perhaps never know the real figure. 

We spoke for around 10 minutes or so. He was struggling, really struggling, and I told him a few times he should rest and not strain himself. He said that he misses me a lot, and that he loves me (something that occurs naturally to him, but to me felt a bit uncomfortable as I've not grown up with that word...). Did he say that because he feels it may be grim and that he's worried?

I have seen so many in hospitals, I have lost many in hospitals... That image of him plugged to a machine, breathing with the aid of a tube under his nose. It's painful to see. It brings back memories.

We finished the video call, and I closed my eyes temporarily.
It's been some time I have not felt so heavy.

This past year, all those figures, all those images, all those deaths and infections are just images and figures on a screen. But this was/this is real.

As real as life could be.

A year ago today

 https://twitter.com/WHO/status/1217043229427761152

 

It was exactly a year ago that the World Health Organization tweeted this to the world:  

Preliminary investigations conducted by the Chinese authorities have found no clear evidence of human-to-human transmission of the novel #coronavirus (2019-nCoV) identified in #Wuhan, #China

When the world finally recognised it as a pandemic, Emperor Xi told the world:

In China, after making painstaking efforts and enormous sacrifice, we have turned the tide on the virus and protected the life and health of our people. All along, we have acted with openness, transparency and responsibility. We have provided information to WHO and relevant countries in a most timely fashion. We have released the genome sequence at the earliest possible time. We have shared control and treatment experience with the world without reservation. We have done everything in our power to support and assist countries in need.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 million deaths, 93 million infections and a year later, the WHO officials are finally going to Wuhan to investigate. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How and why did it take so long for world health experts to get to China, when for months China has repeatedly and publicly said that it stands with the world and all of humanity to help?

 

 

 

What is it that these health experts plan to find after being stonewalled and denied visas at the last minute, when already in December China claimed to be fully ready to receive these independent experts?

 

 

 

If China were so open to helping the world uncover the origins of the virus, and stands with humanity in combatting this virus that has shut down societies and economies worldwide, why did Australia, which called for an independent international investigation, bear the brunt of Chinese bullying and aggression for months on end?

 

 

 

 

 

It's been demonstrated that while Wuhan locked down barely a week later, flights continued to fly out of the city to locales all around the world. And the virus spread.

 

 

 

The year since the virus broke in Wuhan, China has been spreading disinformation and trying to cast doubt about its origins. The worst form of disinformation being that corona may have been brought into China from frozen foods--a claim that the WHO has already refuted. The disinformation campaign is so blatant it is laughable and insidious. In one interview, an "expert" Victor Gao, known for being a mouthpiece for the government, disputes that Dr Li Wenliang was silenced for he falsely raised alarm about SARS, and COVID-19 is not SARS. The official scientific name is SARS-COV2. 

 

 

 

 

Also today, Taiwan's CDC released a moving documentary TRusT paying tribute to the tireless efforts of public health officials, frontline workers, and the people of Taiwan, who excelled in keeping the coronavirus at bay.

 

 

Meanwhile, amid much dismay and confusion in Ontario, we have moved from a tiered lockdown, to a coloured lockdown, and since yesterday, a "state of emergecy" stay-at-home order.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eve of 2021

 

It is almost the end of the year, and the beginning of another one.
What a tumultulous year it has been, full of uncertainty, full of upheaval, full of despair, human tragedy and separation.

Every day, pretty much since January, has been full of news of spiking numbers of infections, hospitalisations, deaths. The Summer appeared to be a few period of calm, but those with some foresight and understanding of historical events, could foresee that that was just a temporary respite before more deaths, more infections, more stringent measures.

2020 will forever be marked by lockdowns, or half measures to try to stem the spread of the (Wuhan) Coronavirus. And then, just a few weeks after the first vaccines were approved for use and being distributed, more potent variants of the virus were discovered in the UK, South Africa and elsewhere. Hope promising, and reassuring to know that this is not even the "big one". 

What are we facing as human beings?
What are we to do as humanity?

At the end of this year, I feel this unbelievable sadness, even more so than usual at what is usually a festive time of celebration and renewal. A sadness brought on by frustration, anger, helplessness as the world burns and burns with no end in sight... Frustration, anger, helplessness compounded by the fact that governments  are saying one thing, yet politicians and elected officials are doing another... Frustration, anger, helplessness seeing small businesses and livelihoods destroyed, as Wall Street, large corporations ask for handouts or are experiencing never before seen profits.

This is no way to live. This is in no way sustainable. Surely, the system is so broken, has been broken, and cannot last for much longer.

May the new year be filled with more hope.

May the new year be filled with more love. 

May the new year be filled with more kindness and compassion.

May the new year be filled with more lightness. 

May the new year be filled with more equity and justice. 

May the world and all its peoples be blessed with good health and safety...