i am a field mouse once again, with the world swirling around me and a heart with open seams down the middle. selfridges feels like a lifetime ago, even further away from the bus in penang and the ashes of 12 sultan ismail. but here i am in another raging December snowstorm, as all the other Decembers conflate to reveal to me my true self, who i really am. it’s funny how much time has passed since i was last a field mouse, but the same old questions still run through my mind – what does it really mean to be on the same team? what does it mean to love? what does Radiohead’s song really mean?
in these snowstorms i like to think of the times in my life that have been pure, idyllic, and right. i move from the latte in coffee bean mt kiara to the stone bench at columbia, and then from under the teacher’s table in sri garden to the dusky rivers of pahang. these memories calm me and i feel real again — real enough to understand why it’s so important to keep my heart open to people and the small but special moments that they bring with them. i do see that the more wretched things one encounters — be they part of the world or part of oneself — the harder it becomes to remain open. but in so many ways there is something invigorating about the pain. it’s like a workout. it wrings you dry and stretches you, and suddenly there is just so much more skin to feel with. pain feels even more painful, but then the most wonderful things also expand and bloom to cover the entire sky, as far as the eye can see.