My quest for the eternal lightness
Where are the clowns? Quick, send in the clowns.
Welcome indeed to my Cabaret. Don’t you love farce? The wigs, feather bows and scarfs. The showers of applause while I make my entry. But there’ll come a time when no one is there to watch.
And I can picture it..for one last time, once again – all attention shall be turned to me. And the stone would read: Here lies an artist, no less. And one would say, “how fucked up. What a pity!”.
They say you can never hear the snow fall.
But weird things do happen when you have survived the night wearing only a round-neck T and gym shorts; listening to the heater cranking up every now and then, keeping you warm from the -20 cold outside.
Once in a while, peculiarities do occur. And most often one can easily be led into believing that it’s one of those sacred moments when one is able to connect with nature in a mystical way which others cannot. I call it post-traumatic psychosonicauditory stress. I was bloody certain that it was the skittering sound of snow on the rooftop which woke me up that morning.
Despite the conviction on my face, no one was impressed. There are many things you can claim to have heard; groans in the shower as your roommate steps on the icy cold mosaic floor or chattering teeth underneath the old comforter. But falling snow is another thing.
Then again, if our ears have fallen deaf to so much shit around us, hearing the snow fall is of course, scandalous. We were handed a 200,000 korean won discount by our agent for letting us into the crappy room.
It was a day many never saw so much snow in a long time. In fact, all around the globe, the snow created havoc that day. I almost missed my flight. Yet, it was suppose to come so silently.
I rested the pair of Fischers on my shoulders and headed for the slope. For days, the thin layer of my twin-tip alpines, which separated me from the bright mass of snow underneath, have become the only connection to my consciousness. My soles, and feet were the only decisive strength which held my life in balance – quite literally. The cold was immaterial. The crowd was non-existent.
At some point, I think something irreversible has been unleashed into the core of my being. The Czech poet spoke of the desire to fall. There is fun in colliding into groups of people and rolling over the blanket of newly fallen powdery snow – most first time skiers can tell you that. There in the vast whiteness of YongPyong, I swooshed down in the fullness of Vertigo – unashamedly basking in its glory.
Weeks later I mustered enough courage to bare it all out in the verocious northern-winter cold. I walked barefoot down to the frozen sea, where a hole in the ice was sawn, and took a dip, then ran back and jumped into the hot tub and drank cold beer. I sat in the tub which was placed outside the house, until ice formed on my head, covering my hair. I sank into the hot water and melt the ice then sat up until the ice formed again.
This space has been left idle for months – a state of perfection by Nietzsche’s standard. Of course, my life on the other hand is a far cry from such coveted perfection – but certainly not a sorry one at that. For those of you who asked – it’s been a long 8 months since moving to Singapore and I still find it hard to describe how I feel about working in the city-state.
But there’s no reason to complain.
No, I don’t have problems with food in Singapore – in fact, some can be surprisingly tasty – my favorite being Bak Kut Teh at Yangoon Road – which I personally prefer to the ones I find back home. Of course, there’s the whole re-adjustment to getting in earlier for work. And then there’s the all-important question of whether ‘Am I attending any church’ – No. Why? Cause I’m contemplating embracing Islam?
Quite a bit of travel for work. Been to the Scandinavian region twice so far. The cold climate is probably the reason Finns develop the love for sauna – and they really like it hot (nothing lower than 80 deg C ). Here’s a real treat after a hard day’s work: a couple of beer with your boss and colleagues, then head to the sauna for a ‘male bonding’ session in full Finnish style – bare nudity. A very humbling experience indeed – for the boss that is! Trust me, they take offence if you refuse the invitation. And after sauna, more beer.
I work for a Finnish State-Owned Oil & Gas Company – under its Renewable Fuels Division. Workload is bearable, but I relish the opportunity I get to meet with environmental and social NGO’s, as well as government bodies who are stakeholders in our business. I learnt that doing things right is not sufficient – you have to communicate them, and communicate right you must. As I strive to deliver results I’m constantly challenged to engage constructively in our approach while keeping a balance between the sustainable progress vs poverty alleviation debate. Business ethics are constantly tested. Like religious fanatics, NGO’s would sometimes turn to emotions rather than facts.
Holidays – I enjoyed Rome. Loud Italians, busy piazzas, quiet chapels, gelato, espresso, cheese, authentic home-made pasta, and of course – good wine. I’m no lover of paintings, but the visit to Sistine Chapel was most breathtaking, though a little too commercial now after Dan Brown’s mischievous expose. Felt good that I have finally taken the ‘lofty’ quest where ‘angels’ guided me to the path of illuminati ‘cross the city. Apart from Rome, I’ve also managed trips to Brussels, Estonia, HK and Paris.
So there you have it, a quick and brief update from me. Otherwise, I’ll be:
1. Looking forward to moving into my own place
2. Travelling to Indonesia for plantation visits
3. Snow skiing in Korea – if they get snow already in November
4.Hearing from Joel as he’s starting his Year 1 in SMI – it’s been 7 years already??!!!
5. Heading home for my brother’s wedding in February – which means my mum’s turning the heat on me to be next
The self-proclaimed decendant of god went to the desert and fasted for 40 days, and claimed (or rather it was claimed) that he conversed with the devil himself. I mean, afterall Woland in The Master and Margarita did say he was there through it all, just before Berlioz’s head was severed from his body, didn’t he? So maybe that was it. It was the fasting that sent the man into hallucination and perhaps even insanity which then later caused such an uproar in the city. So massive was the outcry that it sent a shudder down Caesar’s spine. Arrest him by no means. Arrested him they did.
Let’s admit it. No lesser men had fasted and insisted that they were one with the divine. Prophets we called them. So perhaps the minister have had a dream lately. And in that dream he too met Woland. And perhaps we believe the minister is about to go insane. And the whole city is going insane, or is it the case that the whole essence of the ‘soviet council’ of the state is such abomination that has invited the visit of the devil, and that the comrades in uniform are going berserk arresting everyone and putting them in the mental institution?
The Unbearable Heaviness of Being 