“…everything in Nature grows and defends itself in its own way
and spontaneously unfolds into its own thing, trying at all costs,
against all opposition, to be that and nothing but.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke
“I see what I could become, if only something
weren’t stopping me!”
—Franz Kappus
It might have begun with a word. A word that someone—perhaps mum, perhaps dad, perhaps a teacher or a stranger—had used to describe me.
“She’s so pretty.” / “She’s so shy.” / “She’s so clever.” / “She’s so competitive.” / “She’s so ______.”
The word stuck, like a label tattooed on my being, my Self. Then came another. And another. Soon, these words became me. I became the words the world needed me to be. I believed them. So I carried on writing my story with their words. Their version of me.
It might have begun with a feeling. A feeling of not fitting. A feeling of being not enough—not perfect enough, not smart enough, not thin enough, not ambitious enough, not quiet enough. A feeling of being too much—too perfect, too smart for her own good, too thin, too ambitious, too quiet. A feeling that I am wrong because I am different from everybody else and their expectations, because I can’t be “figured out”. A feeling that had taught me to hide who I am from the world in order to be liked, in order to be loved—by everybody but me.
The story I had told my self my whole life might have begun like that. I can’t be sure—mainly because that wasn’t my version of my story. Maybe that’s how it is for you, too.
One of my favourite poets Rainer Maria Rilke said: “…everything in Nature grows and defends itself in its own way and spontaneously unfolds into its own thing, trying at all costs, against all opposition, to be that and nothing but.”
Coming home to the Self. To grow and unfold into your own thing. The hero’s journey is almost never an easy one—to re-build, one must first destroy; to be re-born, there must be first be death. (“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world.” — Hermann Hesse) But if it means we can choose again—to choose to unsubscribe from an old narrative. To choose to write, and live, and tell our own story, then it is a necessary journey. A worthwhile odyssey.
How does one begin? When? Where? You might begin, quite simply, by choosing a new word. You might begin any time, anywhere you choose to. Now. Here.
I am both grateful and excited to open my series of “Heart To Heart” conversations in 2022 with a cosy group of like-hearted—and light-hearted—people. My collaborator PYAR. Our host Badt and Co. And my guests—Nazneen Aziz (Founder of PYAR), Sunita Pong (Behavioural Scientist) and Rachel Loh (Artist/Photographer)—who said “yes” with such generous spirit, grace and courage my invitation to them to tell us their stories, and how changing their inner narrative has changed the way they live, love, create, as well as their relationship with themselves.
It really has been quite a hiatus. I’m looking forward to meeting with you face to face, and spending a cosy, inspiring, magical Friday evening with you.
It might have begun with a word. A word that someone—perhaps mum, perhaps dad, perhaps a teacher or a stranger—had used to describe me.
“She’s so pretty.” / “She’s so shy.” / “She’s so clever.” / “She’s so competitive.” / “She’s so ______.”
The word stuck, like a label tattooed on my being, my Self. Then came another. And another. Soon, these words became me. I became the words the world needed me to be. I believed them. So I carried on writing my story with their words. Their version of me.
It might have begun with a feeling. A feeling of not fitting. A feeling of being not enough—not perfect enough, not smart enough, not thin enough, not ambitious enough, not quiet enough. A feeling of being too much—too perfect, too smart for her own good, too thin, too ambitious, too quiet. A feeling that I am wrong because I am different from everybody else and their expectations, because I can’t be “figured out”. A feeling that had taught me to hide who I am from the world in order to be liked, in order to be loved—by everybody but me.
The story I had told my self my whole life might have begun like that. I can’t be sure—mainly because that wasn’t my version of my story. Maybe that’s how it is for you, too.
One of my favourite poets Rainer Maria Rilke said: “…everything in Nature grows and defends itself in its own way and spontaneously unfolds into its own thing, trying at all costs, against all opposition, to be that and nothing but.”
Coming home to the Self. To grow and unfold into your own thing. The hero’s journey is almost never an easy one—to re-build, one must first destroy; to be re-born, there must be first be death. (“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world.” — Hermann Hesse) But if it means we can choose again—to choose to unsubscribe from an old narrative. To choose to write, and live, and tell our own story, then it is a necessary journey. A worthwhile odyssey.
How does one begin? When? Where? You might begin, quite simply, by choosing a new word. You might begin any time, anywhere you choose to. Now. Here.
I am both grateful and excited to open my series of “Heart To Heart” conversations in 2022 with a cosy group of like-hearted—and light-hearted—people. My collaborator PYAR. Our host Badt and Co. And my guests—Nazneen Aziz (Founder of PYAR), Sunita Pong (Behavioural Scientist) and Rachel Loh (Artist/Photographer)—who said “yes” with such generous spirit, grace and courage my invitation to them to tell us their stories, and how changing their inner narrative has changed the way they live, love, create, as well as their relationship with themselves.
It really has been quite a hiatus. I’m looking forward to meeting with you face to face, and spending a cosy, inspiring, magical Friday evening with you.