Day 7 of 27 —Practice and the Pandemic

June 27, 2021

My post from yesterday needs more exploration. As a friend summarised it, ‘Two very different disciplines, but constancy in practice can definitely benefit both.’ Intuitively it makes sense. But perhaps the adaptation from one to the other might need more than just a ‘literal’ translation. Or perhaps I see them very differently.

 

I do write consistently. If nothing else just morning pages. I discovered Julia Cameron’s morning pages in 2011. Many artists swear by them. The stream of consciousness writing, long-hand, of three A4 pages is supposed to get the mental clutter and anxiety out of the way and free up the self for creative or simply productive work. Furthermore since nobody reads them no censor is looking over one’s shoulder and tearing down what goes on the page. 

 

Before I say anything more I will say that the twelve week Artist’s Way program is hugely amazing. It includes the morning pages with many more explorations that really tick-tock thoughts and emotions and rearrange something internally. 

 

But morning pages I think are like the 10,000 hours of practice that supposedly help one to master anything. But do they? Yet fewer hours of deliberate practice—practice with goals, with a plan, with guidance and analysis of mistakes—might bring mastery. When I was a brown belt one of my Sensei’s had said to me, ’10,000 repetitions of a kata (one I was trying to learn then) will not help you if you don’t think about the movements while doing them.’ He probably sensed my wandering attention when he said that. 

 

Doing karate on autopilot does not make me better at it. It might help me get a workout, shift my mood because of the endorphins it releases, but it will not improve my karate. Morning pages feel like that right now (and I reserve the right to change my mind). I think I am done with them. Phew – there I’ve said it. 

 

So coming back to karate and writing in the pandemic. I know part of what was different in both. In those days when the mind became sluggish and foggy my karate practice remained clear and focused. As soon as lockdowns began Sensei’s all over the world began putting out training videos. They were inspiration, they were guidance, and they led to deliberate practice. Besides, being responsible for teaching two two-hour classes each week was motivation enough to keep the mind always involved in what I was doing. And the year of doing this in the year when everything else fell away built a deep trust in it. 

 

Whereas with writing something else happened and if anything I lost trust. I even stopped trusting morning pages. There is more to unearth here. I could go back to the past, the year just gone, and try to ask why and what did happen. I could just continue on with this 27-day deliberate challenge I’ve set  myself and see what it brings. 

Day 6 of 27 — Two or three of my loves

 June 26, 2021

 

This morning I emerged from my bedroom at 6:50 am to the most stupendous sight — a bright round one-day-old full moon fairly high in the blue-grey sky, next to a very tall solid cumulonimbus cloud rising above the distant CBD. I brewed a cup of Ceylon tea and sat back on the sofa and watched as the cloud’s crown glowed red as if from a fire lit from within. Soon the cloud began to grow in width till it was three times its size, and the redness descended to the middle, while the crests glowed a purer gold.  The moon crept closer to it. I had forgotten that these are the clouds that bring us spectacular thunder showers. It was hard to tear myself away from this drama in the sky and I was late and had to run for my bus. But I was still the first person in the dojo and managed ten repetitions of sepai before the others bustled in. Rain began falling while we trained.

 

This 27-day blog experiment is a commitment to craft, to improving writing, another of my passions. I got the idea for it from the most constant of my lovers. One that is there for me in all weathers and ‘in sickness and in health’.  I train only four to six days a week — but I find a way to keep going even when injured—adjusting and avoiding what hurts and doing more of something else, or when ill—one of my Sensei’s had told me that Sanchin could be done even when very fatigued. A backache improves with the warm-up stretches and movement, and everyone knows that exercise promotes healing. What I am saying is that I don’t suffer from karate blocks like I do from writers blocks. I don’t procrastinate or need to feel inspired. I just do it. Some days it flows and some days it’s bad. 

 

I have been moaning so much about how the pandemic has dried up my writing. I’ve been lamenting the loss of words and story ideas. I have made efforts at trying to get them back. Many have started well and then fizzled, and I have become depressed. I don’t know why but the pandemic never dried up karate. I trained through all emotional states and troubles. A writer friend had once commented on this steadfastness and how it could be carried over to everything. Ya of course, I had thought but never deliberately put my trust in writing as I had in karate. Actually karate was the more difficult of the two for me. I was such a slow learner that my first Sensei in his wisdom did not grade me till I had trained in the dojo for almost eight months. Others came after me and got their first stripe even though I was one of the most regular students. So it is strange how often I give up on writing. 

 

Do I love it less? Nope. In fact it is another ‘death do us part’ relationship. 

 

I have overshot my words again today so tomorrow I explore further. The sky is filled with altocumulus or stratocumulus clouds — not sure which. Cloud watching is another of my loves.

Day 5 of 27 — In 14 days, this too will have passed.

 June 25, 2021

 

I just spent ten minutes wandering around our 1000 sq-ft apartment looking for my glass of water. I looked on all the coasters I have scattered on the furniture and then circled back and looked again. It was a while before I remembered that I had put it in the freezer to chill. 

 

It’s been such a day. Stress levels are lower than earlier this morning, but I still feel glazy, blank-ish. I woke and made a detailed list of things I needed to get done. But I feel like I’m in a ‘foetal ball with arms around head’ state most of the time. I uncurl in a snap when I have to deal with things related to my sis in Bombay. There are things on my list—low thought and focus level things—that I could attend to, but every time I think of anything but my sis my head begins to ache. My normally multi-tasking brain has blinkers on for everything but one thing. It would be nice to tick off some things on that list but I don’t trust myself to do anything. I feel like I will make mistakes doing the simplest things, and then fret over that adding to my stress. I did cut fruit, wash up the lunch things, do a sinus rinse and erm… not much else yet. Oh yes, I organised someone to teach my karate class tomorrow morning in case things get more messy. And once in a while my knee buckles while I am walking.

 

They say crisis never is just about one thing. I can confirm this is true from the present situation and from the past. My sis has things erupting in several directions. Some people are simply so self-absorbed and are adding to her tensions. But I am not ready to talk of that yet. Too, much too, angry.

 

They also say that you really know who your friends are and who you can depend on when a crisis breaks. That is true too. I had two friends from Bombay reach out to me, offering help, after they read yesterday’s blog. Friends from other parts of the world offered comfort. Something within knit together when I woke and read those messages. And the seniors in my dojo stepped up immediately to fill any gaps that I may leave while supporting my family in Bombay through this. 

 

I am not saying anything today that we don’t know. But these things should be said often. When people show kindness they change a person’s world. When people co-operate and support others they ‘better’ the world. Yet we laud strong action, that crushes spirits and oppresses, by iron leaders, and call compassionate, collaborative leadership weak. More on that another day.

 

Grateful too that unlike last year when covid positive people were being sent to government quarantine, now people are allowed home isolation if they have a separate room and bathroom. This is the only way my sis could supervise my mum’s wellbeing. Bless Bombay’s Covid War Room.

Day 4 or 27 — Rainy night

 June 24, 2021

 

It’s 10:52 pm. I am shaky today. 

 

The day began with a sense of openness. I went to the clinic for my six monthly blood test. The sweet senior nurse attended to me saying that she had checked my history and was concerned that the last few times that I had been pricked, I had bruised badly. She’s always so nice to me and I told her that. It’s my job, she beamed. 

 

It was over quickly and I took the MRT to Au Croissant  at Stadium to break the overnight fast. I always treated myself to a chocolate danish after my blood test. In fact the entire week between the test and till I got the dreaded result I indulged all my food desires. Cakes, burgers, fries—stuff I avoided the rest of the year—were on the daily menu. I crunched into a flaky almond croissant with a custard cream centre and stared at the world. I felt content. I had the entire day to dream, write, draw. A couple of women sat at a corner table and I began imagining what their story was — friends from school or college, one married the other not, and what lay beneath their smiles. A child swinging her legs and colouring while her mum blissfully sipped a coffee. A couple of men staring at a laptop screen and chatting. A bunch of teenage boys in shorts rushed past.

 

After I decided to walk home. The sun was overhead and scorching but like a lizard or a cat I worshipped it. I climbed the bridge over the Kallang river and as I always did, stopped at the mid-point and stared down at the water. Today the ripples formed curvy diamond shapes and moved quickly from right to left. I lingered. By the time I got home my sister had tried calling me twice but my phone had been on silent.

 

‘I have covid,’ she said when I called her back. 

‘WHAT! How!’

She had flu symptoms for two days and when she couldn’t smell anymore she decided to get herself tested. 

Since last year when India’s lockdown began this had been my biggest fear. That she would get covid and I would not be able to get home to help take care of our mum. It was happening now. 

 

My sister’s had a really tough year taking care of mum alone. After the call I  felt breathless. I needed to be there. I couldn’t bear it that she was ill and tired and had nobody to take care of her. My anger about the increased weeks between doses that the Govt of India had mandated rose up again. She had only had one dose of AstraZeneca. Not effective protection against the delta variant. After a bit I messaged her and she called me. We laughed when I said she was now a statistic on the Maharashtra Covid count charts. Then we got down to practical matters. She slept in the afternoon and I ate bowls of Garrett’s Chicago-Mix. 

 

Later while my spouse cooked I watched a misty rain drift from right to left across my balcony. The sky seemed to have descended to earth today and yesterday’s golden landscape was covered in a soft grey veil. I began to cry. All year I had felt so much guilt and today the last proverbial straw had fallen on my back. I felt slightly broke. 

Day 3 of 27 - A Busy Day

 June 23, 2021

 

It’s 6:28 pm. I’m in a bit of a panic because my mind is a blank and I need to write today’s words. When I woke this morning I felt blurry from sinus pain but my mind was fizzing with thoughts on what I could blog today. Then the day bustled on and one thing followed the next. Now it is evening. A fine blue sky with streaks of white feathery clouds hovers over a canopy of green, lit gold by the setting sun. But my head hurts and not a single idea remains. I groan, I wish I had written them down, but really, the day hurried me through it. I had little control over the hours.

 

A friend who read day one of this experiment nailed the impulse behind it. She said, ‘I think the isolation and stress of COVID have dulled most of our brains, and just getting back to trying to use words on the regular has to be a good thing!’

 

My brain does feel like it’s shrunk during the last year and I felt a need to flex its abilities to express, describe, and communicate. In small, lightweight steps. I don’t feel able to tackle the deeper things I am feeling – like the grief of losing two people I care deeply about in the space of just a few days, about two weeks ago. It is too hard to take the vastness of that and put it into a single blank page. 

 

I also needed to challenge a belief that has grabbed my voice. That I cannot create sitting in one place. I need to wander, I need to sit in coffee shops, I need to be on airplanes, I need to meet my friends. I need, I need, I need – everything beyond this desk and these four walls here. How can I create otherwise. I sheepishly discussed this with a friend who I have a weekly Wednesday conversation with. We try to explore our limiting beliefs. He’s a visual artist and he smiled. He too had grappled with the same. Unfortunately the conversation moved elsewhere without us finding any insightful resolution. So I must scuffle on, see where this experiment leads. 

 

The light on the buildings in the near distance is truly beautiful.  The west side all lit up, glass reflecting the fading sunlight, the other in cool shade. Soon both light and shadow will mix into night.