Ten weeks. Actually, ten weeks passed quickly. At this moment, I am left with 11 days to study for the upcoming March Common Tests and frankly, I think I am seasoned enough a student now to conclude, with pretty enough confidence, that I will not have enough time to complete studying (thereby a high possibility of not performing well, and...)
As I still struggle to complete my revision for geography (which I have started early, but I am still only down with population and not lithosphere... what kind of bottomless pit is this?!), I hope to share some experiences and insights, which are quite a mouthful for a short term.
Of learning
I recall somewhere in my memory that I've had this feeling before. I think it was some time in year four, when I thought that it was really cool how we learn about plants in primary school science, and then learn the exact mechanisms four years later. Plant and mouse trapped in a box turned limewater chalky? Chemistry. What happens in that leaf? Biology.
But this, I believe, is enlightenment on a different level altogether. We are currently covering the topic of evolution in Biology lecture, which is pretty cool because I believe it is the least technical of all topics covered in the (largely molecular) Biology syllabus. Also, not to mention how a big part of the world actually do not validate evolution and supports creationism in lieu of it. Interesting, isn't it? All other topics are backed with scientific conventions, and then one philosophical topic verging on science and faith.
Anyhow, as we were watched a video on the life and works of Charles Darwin, there was a part of the video which listed books Darwin read on his journeys, leading to his eventual deduction of evolution theories based on his observations on the Galapagos Islands. Those were books on geology and the Malthusian theory of population. Hold up - theories we have learnt on not one but two geography disciplines?! At that moment the geography students in my class were all looking around with a knowing look on our faces. It is indeed some of the best feelings in the world when you see things begin to link up: rocks and their landforms, continental drift forming our livable environment, unchecked population leading to eventual annihilation when we run out of food, oh and then the green and gene technology happens... It makes you feel the joy of learning all over again, and I think I really value this spirit of curiosity, of learning and growth.
Of accepting changes
This isn't a reference to people passing on, but a more metaphorical meaning of people who leave.
Early this year, I was apprehensive, or should I say worried, about the state of the Senior High Choir. I know that our membership isn't good and is a small indication of difficult futures, but I know that the present is what matters, and so I decided that this year will be as good as it can be for a choir less than 20 in strength. It will be difficult, but if the choirs I grew up with every taught me anything, it will be that nothing ever looks too daunting. However, I will admit that I was so stressed out even before the second practice of the year concluded. I have a junior, who is an amazing singer, the happiest soul on earth and above all my a good friend, who decided that she could not stay on anymore, that she had to go.
I have never, and do not intend to throw shade at her decision, which I understand is a rational inference on how I would react given how I fiercely protect the choir with all my heart. However, what I felt was far from resentment or disappointment. I guess all I felt was simply sadness. I realized it was a defense mechanism when people who are precious to one leave without any sound explanation, so much so that it puzzled my mind and messed with my heart. First there was confusion as I could not figure out why what happened just happened, then it turned into accusation at self for not doing good enough in cushioning a heartbreak, before it became anxious concern as my friends saw this as an event which shook the choir, and made the light extending into the dark tunnel die out a little bit.
Through this episode, I have come to accept this reality and untie some knots. In life, many unexpected things happen, and truthfully, they will never make sense. Sometimes we are so obsessed over living out an ideal reality that we forget circumstances in life are static. Since change fumbles us and make us devise way to live a new life, life must be static, if not we will never learn and improve. So the lesson gleaned is this: people will leave. So let's grieve a little, accept it to our terms, and find ways to move on. We are never that person of that past - we have changed for a new better.
Because the person who leaves, no matter how long they are gone for, always wishes with the goodness of their heart that you will be alright despite their absence.
Of selflessness
To begin a choir journey of the year with shaky events is never the plan of any leader, but it happened, and we worked with what we have left.
I remember that practice. It was extremely saddening, and many cried. I thought there were tears because it felt like when my junior left, she took a piece of the choir away. I immediately found solace in the truth of that statement, and we reiterated that to the whole choir afterward, that each one of them carried that kind of impact within them, and that was how much we depended on each other.
I understand that it was probably unfathomable (and borderline creepy) to some of the new choristers who joined, but what was amazing was how everyone seemed to think on the same wavelength and tried their best to assimilate them into our culture and our art. I was touched by their efforts to take in as much of this insane crash course as possible - I grew over years, I know it will be shocking to make that growth in a condensed time frame. I was humbled by the rest of their choir, we helped to guide them with any knowledge that they have. This was a season of turbulence but it was also a season of selfless love, of people with extended arms, who are determined to make best of seemingly bad times.
And I knew then that we were destined for great things. Granted, some doors are closed, and we will have to struggle. But it was more endearing to learn that we never struggle alone. No music is complete unless we all sing together at the right tune, pitch, tone, rhythm. I am just so glad that we were, actually, still a bunch of weird-ass kids, who happened to not be tone-deaf.
I love you all so damn much.
Of accepting changes
This isn't a reference to people passing on, but a more metaphorical meaning of people who leave.
Early this year, I was apprehensive, or should I say worried, about the state of the Senior High Choir. I know that our membership isn't good and is a small indication of difficult futures, but I know that the present is what matters, and so I decided that this year will be as good as it can be for a choir less than 20 in strength. It will be difficult, but if the choirs I grew up with every taught me anything, it will be that nothing ever looks too daunting. However, I will admit that I was so stressed out even before the second practice of the year concluded. I have a junior, who is an amazing singer, the happiest soul on earth and above all my a good friend, who decided that she could not stay on anymore, that she had to go.
I have never, and do not intend to throw shade at her decision, which I understand is a rational inference on how I would react given how I fiercely protect the choir with all my heart. However, what I felt was far from resentment or disappointment. I guess all I felt was simply sadness. I realized it was a defense mechanism when people who are precious to one leave without any sound explanation, so much so that it puzzled my mind and messed with my heart. First there was confusion as I could not figure out why what happened just happened, then it turned into accusation at self for not doing good enough in cushioning a heartbreak, before it became anxious concern as my friends saw this as an event which shook the choir, and made the light extending into the dark tunnel die out a little bit.
Through this episode, I have come to accept this reality and untie some knots. In life, many unexpected things happen, and truthfully, they will never make sense. Sometimes we are so obsessed over living out an ideal reality that we forget circumstances in life are static. Since change fumbles us and make us devise way to live a new life, life must be static, if not we will never learn and improve. So the lesson gleaned is this: people will leave. So let's grieve a little, accept it to our terms, and find ways to move on. We are never that person of that past - we have changed for a new better.
Because the person who leaves, no matter how long they are gone for, always wishes with the goodness of their heart that you will be alright despite their absence.
Of selflessness
To begin a choir journey of the year with shaky events is never the plan of any leader, but it happened, and we worked with what we have left.
I remember that practice. It was extremely saddening, and many cried. I thought there were tears because it felt like when my junior left, she took a piece of the choir away. I immediately found solace in the truth of that statement, and we reiterated that to the whole choir afterward, that each one of them carried that kind of impact within them, and that was how much we depended on each other.
I understand that it was probably unfathomable (and borderline creepy) to some of the new choristers who joined, but what was amazing was how everyone seemed to think on the same wavelength and tried their best to assimilate them into our culture and our art. I was touched by their efforts to take in as much of this insane crash course as possible - I grew over years, I know it will be shocking to make that growth in a condensed time frame. I was humbled by the rest of their choir, we helped to guide them with any knowledge that they have. This was a season of turbulence but it was also a season of selfless love, of people with extended arms, who are determined to make best of seemingly bad times.
And I knew then that we were destined for great things. Granted, some doors are closed, and we will have to struggle. But it was more endearing to learn that we never struggle alone. No music is complete unless we all sing together at the right tune, pitch, tone, rhythm. I am just so glad that we were, actually, still a bunch of weird-ass kids, who happened to not be tone-deaf.
I love you all so damn much.
