I grew up Catholic but never really observed the Sabbath. Till today, I don’t think I deliberately set aside time to rest on Sundays. In fact, I know little about its significance.
Apparently, the word “Sabbath” has its roots in Judaism. The Jews have a word, “Shabbat”, which in Hebrew refers to a day of rest and spiritual enrichment. The word comes from the root Shin-Beit-Tav, meaning to cease, to end or to rest.
In fact, Shabbat is the most important ritual observance in Judaism. It is the only ritual observance instituted in the Ten Commandments. (Source: Jewfaq.org).
I am not religious. I won’t even venture to say I’m very spiritual these days. But from a very secular perspective, I respect that in the bigger scheme of things, there is a time for everything.
And one of these things – I believe – is rest.
Rest is even harder to do as a freelance writer because I don’t work 9-to-5. I don’t have “leave to clear” or a clear concept of “after-work hours”. Worse, I am a mother of twins. When does a mother go off-service?
But on this Sunday, I am reminded that we all need to allow ourselves to take a break from all the labouring. It’s not wrong. It’s not being lazy. And there shouldn’t be any guilt involved.
It may not end up being a Sunday – it may be a Wednesday or a Saturday – but one day a week. And unless we give ourselves permission through a conscious decision, we won’t.
I love this quote by one of my favourite inspirational writers, Maya Angelou:
“Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence. Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.”
― Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now
Counter-intuitive as it may be, it’s our ego that gets in the way sometimes. But an ex-colleague of mine, Samantha, told me something many moons ago. She said, “We’re not indispensable. The world will go on without us – and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
So let’s make rest a weekly discipline – as it was intended.
Let’s first allow ourselves. Then let’s discipline ourselves to practise it into a habit. We may not realise the wisdom of Ancient Wisdoms till we give it a shot.
“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.” ~ Paulo Coelho
I made a difficult decision a recently. After I made it, I couldn’t sleep. I was terrified for my future. And I would be lying if I said I am unafraid now.
But sometimes, in pursuing what we know we’re created to do, we hit a point where we need to make tough decisions in order to move forward. For me, it was letting go of my financial safety net.
Even when I left my full-time job as a TV producer to return to my first love – writing – I was still holding on tightly to my rice bowl as a freelance producer. I don’t hate my job. In fact, I get a certain adrenaline rush in being part of a team that makes ‘live’ programmes happen on a news channel.
My Mothership has a strong tractor beam!
But deep inside, I knew this held me back. I’ve had to say “no” to many travel assignments because I could not leave town once I had committed to X number of episodes, and my travel assignments usually come last minute. The result was that I was producing for TV more than I was travel writing, and there came a point where I questioned myself.
Is this why I left my full-time job? What happened to my intention to write full-time? To travel on a whim? Was I making time to build my business and my branding? To meet editors and find work? It was sobering to realise I had failed in every way because of my fears.
And so, I made a tough decision to cut my apron strings.
My calling: A writer who travels.
The day after I made that decision, I immediately landed a few travel assignments. They fell on my lap from nowhere and the timing was perfect. If I had made that decision just a day later, I would’ve had to say no to these opportunities.
I believe nothing happens by chance. When I let go, it cleared a space in my life for good things to happen. I just completed a travel assignment and will be leaving for another assignment next week, with two more lined up this month.
Recent travel assignment to Thailand, March 2014.
But having said that, I don’t see very far into my future. Many things are still uncertain. But I figure as long as I am writing – and making a living from writing – I’m on the right track.
Let’s take this one day at a time. Let’s DARE.
“Let us plunge together down the dangerous path of surrender. It may be dangerous, but it is the only path worth following.” ~ Paulo Coelho
“Whatever the field of our expertise, most of us realize that the more data we acquire, the less, very often, we know. The universe is not a fixed sum, in which the amount you know subtracts from the amount you don’t… The more we know, the greater we find is our ignorance.” ~ Pico Iyer
I started following media reports of the disappearance of MH370 with puzzlement and horror. In the early days, every new piece of information seemed to open a new door of possibilities. And I was hooked. But of late, I’ve stopped following the developments because the more information I read, and the more speculations I hear, the more confused I feel.
Photo: International Business Times
So this piece of writing by one of my favourite travel writers, Pico Iyer, really spoke to me. Not just with regards to MH370, but also for the things I’m learning about human trafficking in the region. I have been learning and reading up and doing interviews with people in the field for a decade now, but it seems the more I know, the less I know. The more information I get, the more I realise just how ignorant I am!
“The universe is not a fixed sum, in which the amount you know subtracts from the amount you don’t… The more we know, the greater we find is our ignorance.” ~ Pico Iyer
This article was shared with me by my dear friend Jasmine Choo. I took a while to get to reading it but I’m glad I did. It speaks to me on so many levels!
Here’s the full article by Pico Iyer. Published in The New Timeson 20 March 2014.
The Folly of Thinking We Know
The Painful Hunt for Malaysia Airlines Flight 370
– Pico Iyer (The New York Times, 20 March 2014)
SANTA BARBARA, Calif. — WE’VE most of us, surely, heard all the figures: Humanity now produces as much data in two days as it did in all of history till the year 2003 — and the amount of data is doubling every two years. In the time you take to read this piece, the human race will generate as much data as currently exists in the Library of Congress. For that matter — yes, your inbox and Facebook page would reflect this — 10 percent of all the pictures ever taken as of the end of 2011 were taken in 2011. Yet as we think about how an entire Boeing 777 has gone missing for almost two weeks now, we’re also painfully reminded of how much we can’t — and may never — know, even in the Knowledge Economy.
The Nobel Prize-winning economist and psychologist Daniel Kahneman has noted, after decades of research, that it’s our nature to overestimate how much we understand the world and to underestimate the role of chance. And it’s our folly to assume we know very much at all. There’s “a highly objectionable word,” he writes, “which should be removed from our vocabulary in discussions of major events,” and that word is “knew.”
I think of this as I watch one expert after another offer informed guesses about the fate of the missing plane, even as all we know about it so far is how provisional — and contradictory — our speculations have been. I also recall how the words that most convey authority and credibility whenever I listen to any pundit speak are “I don’t know.” Whatever the field of our expertise, most of us realize that the more data we acquire, the less, very often, we know. The universe is not a fixed sum, in which the amount you know subtracts from the amount you don’t.
As Gardiner G. Hubbard, the first president of the National Geographic Society, said in 1888, when his magazine set out to chart everything in the known universe, “The more we know, the greater we find is our ignorance.” And it can often seem as if nature — or something beyond our reckoning at least — intrudes every time we’re tempted to get above ourselves. Whenever we begin to assume we can command or comprehend quite a bit, some Icarian calamity pushes our face, tragically, in the limits of our knowledge.
It’s been humbling, as well as horrifying, to see the entire globe, in an age of unprecedented data accumulation, up in the air, more or less, but poignantly aware that, whatever we do learn, a grief beyond understanding is likely to be a part of it.
We imagine how those with loved ones on the plane must be trying to fill the absence, of knowledge as well as of their sons or wives, and how they may fear, even if at times they long for, certainty. We imagine the people on the aircraft, whose not-knowing might have been felt on the pulse, accelerating, as the vessel suddenly changed course. We translate the story into our own lives, and think about how the things we don’t know haunt and possess us as the things we do seldom can.
Even if we do learn more about the fate of the airliner, it’s unlikely that all of our questions will ever be answered. And the memory of how much we didn’t know — and how long we didn’t know it — ought to sober us as we prepare for the next sudden visitation of the inexplicable.
We’re all grateful that we know as much as we do these days, and enjoy lives that are safer, longer, healthier and better connected than those of any generation before ours. Yet each day that passes, Malaysia 370 keeps hovering like a terrible blank in our minds, more visible the longer it’s out of our view.