Want to create something awesome? Start by doing nothing.

I found this ancient stuff I wrote on Fb notes, one of the better features of this platform which is now disabled. Gee, thanks man Fb. I thought I'd just share it here while I get my lazy ass ready to finally start a blog, or a podcast. The thoughts contained here is more than 5 years old, but I feel it's even more relevant now than it was back then. Here goes:

There’s a line from a song from an ‘Aztec Camera’ song called ‘Stray’ that goes like this:??

‘Being alone and loneliness don’t always mean the same, who needs the movie, you can see the music anyway…’??

I guess those words must have meant something to me for me to remember it all these years. Maybe those words are even more relevant in our crazy world of noise, distractions and worries, with all that being magnified by being connected 24/7. We live in an age where busyness is a virtue and being productive is highly regarded. For us urbanites anyway.??

Sadly, I also see this restlessness in my own kids. Try as hard as I would, I have not succeeded in making them feel at ease with being unoccupied. Most kids aren’t built that way to begin with, but with smartphones access to the internet, they’re not only connected, they are glued to social media, gaming, chatting with friends and consuming content. I suspect many of us adults are like that too. Take the phones away, they become bored as quick as chicken shit turning cold as soon as it exits and hits the ground. In the pursuit of being occupied, I think we’ve lost so much of what’s really inside us because we’ve not given it due attention.??

I wish to speak on behalf of solitude.???

Not to be confused with being idle and wasting time, I think being alone, or solitude, is a time of intense activity. It’s not the activity of the body. I mean, you’re just sitting your ass down doing nothing much. But it’s an activeness of the soul. I think so much happens inside when you’re immobile. And so much is said in silence.??

You may think that I am a great practitioner of solitude. I’ll reply you with a single word;

‘Advertising.’

Some days, you can’t even find the time to take a shit and even when you do, the laptop follows you in so you can multitask. You’re being productive, both ends. But while that may be so, I think solitude is not something you do, but it’s something you ‘are’. It’s a state of being. It’s like breathing. It should come naturally. But it does help if you carve out some time and space to do this. Even for a little bit.??

A storeroom of hidden dreams.??

When I was a student in San Francisco, I spent my spare time working as a janitor and dishwasher in a Singaporean restaurant. My mind was occupied by school assignments and all sorts of personal problems. I had no peace-of-mind and would cycle around the city on a pre-loved red racing bike after work. It was therapeutic. One day, at the edge of town, I found an old folks home run by nuns and without much thought, went in to see if I could volunteer. It was there I met a jovial nun ( from the Little Sisters of the Poor) named Sister Ramona. I got assigned to kitchen duty (of course) on Tuesdays and on Thursdays, I helped a carpenter named Bob (is it just me or are all carpenters are named Bob in America?) restore and repair old furniture for the residents.???

Bob was the king of the workshop and when he left at 4pm, he left me the keys and I had the whole place to myself till dinner, where I joined the community for porridge, boiled fish and broccoli and fruits. It was in this workshop, I totally enjoyed solitude.

The workshop at the edge of the convent. It's one of my favourite places on earth.

Just before sunset, I’d stop work and wander around the place and discover that they placed all the personal belongings of their residents upstairs. It was a treasure trove of clothes, shoes, diaries, photo albums, letters, postcards, and other personal items. Most of these residents were immigrants from Ireland and some letters went as far back as the 1920's. I spent many precious hours rummaging through all these things.???

I read letters, postcards, and studied the old photographs. They were beautiful. I came across love letters, and the words spoke of longing and heartbreaks from having to part with loved ones. I looked at the portraits of young women and men attached to these letters. I stared into their eyes and felt like I knew them. I could almost feel what they felt and there was a deep connection to people who were complete strangers to me. After that, I’d place everything back in their respective places ever so reverently. I’d pray for them, even though they were long dead. And I’d lie down and stare at the sole light bulb above me and let my mind wander and think thoughts. I was fully aware of the stuff that went through my head and the feelings that accompanied those thoughts. From time to time, the realization I was totally alone in a room full of dead people’s stuff sent chills down my spine, especially when the sun was setting, lol, but for the most part I experienced a much needed peace.??

St Anne’s Convent was a special place for me. Besides meeting and adopting a foster grandma named Betty O’Shea, the walls of this convent were an oasis of calm and grace. In the silence of that upper room, I experienced the joy of temporary solitude and felt the impact of the many little journeys of members of the human species. I realised deeply that every line I read represented the sentiments and experience of a human person that once walked this earth. All that he or she is, is gone now, and a fragment of what once was are in these few precious lines and fading photographs. That was the time I fell in love with telling stories. Because to me, it matters. I realise now, so much of what I do today as an ECD began with that experience of solitude in that sacred space. I only spent 3 months in St Anne’s. But it altered something in me and whatever it was is still unraveling. Because like that storage room, our souls too are a room filled with dreams. And you won’t be able to discover them without silence.?

The residents of St Anne's. Betty is 2nd from right. I spent lots of time with her after I was done at the workshop. She used to tell me stories about growing up in Ireland. And it was hard for us to part ways when I was leaving for home. She passed away a few months after I got home. I still have her porcelain rose which I place at my altar at home.

The higher you go, the quieter it gets. The quieter it gets, the louder it becomes.

One could sit here for hours and do absolutely nothing.

From the great indoors of a humble workshop to the majestic highlands of the great outdoors, solitude reveals itself if you are seeking it. I spent a great deal of time in my youth outside. The hills and mountains, rivers and waterfalls, jungles and caves, it was all my playground. I had the best time growing up and being Catholic, although not a very good one, I’d naturally find time to pray a little. Especially when it’s raining in the jungle and the river is about to burst its banks and we will either get washed away or experience hunger cause all the firewood is soaked and we can’t cook, lol. But in the nights, sometimes, I’d sneak off to a quiet place to talk to God. It was mainly girl problems (the lack of girls to be exact, haha) but yeah, it was still little conversations with God.??

This habit never left me. And when I joined the ad industry, the great outdoors were replaced by the not-so-great cubical. But the longing to get out never left me. So whenever I find myself trekking or camping again, the habit of finding a quiet time for divine conversations naturally occurs again.??

When I was in Nepal recently, no matter how tired I was, I made it a point to wake up just before dawn, which means I am up at 5am. I’d find a comfy spot, look at the mountains and with every breath, deliberately ‘take in’ the Spirit of God. On day-3, when we were in a spartan village that looked like it had stayed the same for centuries, I walked to the edge of the muddy path at dawn, found a stone wall and sat there for 2 whole hours. It was the longest time I’ve sat still in a long, long time.

I watched the sun rise, closed my eyes, and 2 hours passed by.

It was a perfect place for conversations and lots and lots of listening to my soul. I spent the time just being aware of my breathing and within it, in all creation, God. I thought of all the worries I had at work running the agency and the promotion they were shoving down my throat and wondered if it was the stupidest decision ever. I tried not to say anything, but just stare at the hills and breathe and in between drawing oxygen, to praise God. Two hours went by like it was 2 minutes and soon it was time to go pack up and start trekking again.??

What happened in the two hours? Gratitude happened. Gratitude to be sitting there and from time to time, my regular bitching to God. With a sight like that, you realize how blessed you are to be ‘right there right now’. And in the immensity of it all, I am just a speck of dust in the vastness of space. And yet this speck of dust comes with a self-awareness and that is something not to be taken lightly. Because in this body, this great indoor, the great outdoor is contained. I am part of all I see. And all I see is a part of me. We all need to know that.??

Back to the room of dusty books, plastic figurines and silly dreams.??

A room is but a room. It is nothing special unless its occupant brings into that dead space all that he is. Then, the room has a soul and becomes alive. And when a room is alive, you can feel its pulse, its vibe. I don’t know if I’ve described this correctly but yeah, for me it’s true.

My cave. My place of temporal security. My never-never land.

I love coming to work early. The earlier the better. That’s where I find solitude at the heart of the agency. It would not be possible after everyone comes in and the madness begins. What we do is special. It doesn’t always end up being so because we do crap work too. But yes, doing something that matters is always a possibility. Much is expected of us yet the condition we’re placed in is counter-productive. It takes a heroic effort just to do ‘ok’ things.???

For me, so much of what we do relies so much on what we can dig out from ourselves. You can’t create soul-filled things if you don’t find the time to discern, to listen, to reflect on what our soul has to offer. A little pressure may be a friend to creativity, but solitude is crucial to insights. My room in the early hours of the morning is a place where nothing much happens on the surface. I read a little, I take a nap, I stare at the sky, I write random notes here and there, I pray, I talk to myself, I pace around looking at my collection of junk, I think thoughts, and when the day begins, it feels like everything I did the past 2 hours was futile. But that can't be further from the truth.??

In the solitude of the room, the mind, the soul is navigating all the feelings and thoughts and experience stored away in the deepest part of our brains. Maybe it’s like a potato. Nothing seems to happen. Yet inside, something is growing and soon enough, it pops. Though I may have no proof, some of my best works began in solitude. I’ve spent so many countless hours in my room allowing my mind to wander freely. Thoughts are like energy. Once released, it takes a life of its own. And when it’s ready, it will reveal itself in an idea. It may come at noon, in the evening, a week away, but these ideas had a starting point and that starting point for me is quite often the silence of my room.??

My work is the projection of my mind. I felt it and saw it first in my mind’s eye before the masses did. And that spark began its existence within the silence of my four walls. It is the birthplace of dreams. Alas, all I am trying to convey is, we are a vast treasure of possibilities. But in order to tap into the richness within, we need to be still. We need to be comfortable with silence and solitude. We need to be comfortable with the self. And allow our innermost being to reveal cool shit to us so we can tap into it and reveal it to the world.???

So with that, I’d like to end by saying, we are never really alone. Our souls are always with us. It is the place of dreams. And once we are comfortable and are willing to sit our ass down and be still, what’s inside will speak to us and we’d turn it into an idea and that idea into something wonderful to share with the world. May we learn to be still. Ok, I’ll stop here already and leave you with another line from another song. This time it’s Depeche Mode:

‘Enjoy the silence.’ ? ?

Taking a picture of moss during a deliberate quiet time during a spiritual retreat in Camerons Highlands.????