It has always been apparent that my parents grew up in a different world to me. They both came from Hong Kong and emigrated to Australia over forty years ago: a whole different culture and time than the world in which I grew up. We don't often agree a lot on politics, particularly on social issues. My mum just can't wrap her head around homosexuality; she let out a small scream when she first saw a gay kiss on Glee that was playing on the TV. She often says things about other ethnic groups I have to call her out on as insensitive or not constructive.
I’ve spent the last few days soaking up all the spiritual goodness for which Ubud is known. Particularly with Eat Pray Love, or even the Kardashians, a quest to go find yourself seems incomplete without a few yoga sessions and traditional healing ceremonies in Ubud. And having spent over five months in Bali now, and almost none of that time in Ubud, I thought it was time to truly lean into it all.
It's a fact–we all experience grief at some point in our lives. We never know when we might face it, or how it will come. And we definitely don't know how it will affect us.
Social media. What immediately springs to mind? Is it that place you spend endless hours, lost in mindless scrolls of the same old memes and same old status updates? Perhaps it's a place of hope, a place that was able to facilitate much-needed conversations about race and feminism and intersectionality. But that utopia seems a little further and further away every time Trump tweets.
If I told you that you would lose all electricity and access to the internet for 24 hours, how would you feel? If you’re anything like me, your heart skips a tiny beat. But what if I miss an important work email? What if something bad happens and I need to call for help? What if I can’t share the experience on social media?
I think I was around 10 years old. I was an angry child, frustrated with the world and my place in it, full of rage I did not know how to express. I remember laying on my bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me, and I felt an itch in the middle of my back that I just needed to get rid of. So I squiggled and squirmed, kicked the sheets off my bed and let out an exasperated scream I'd been holding in for my whole, entire, very short life.