Autumnal Reflection

Dear friends,

The nights are growing shorter, the leaves begin to yellow, to fall. Autumn has arrived, and against this background of change, I have changed too. 

It is incredible how only two months of college can change one. The novel paths of independence, bouts of loneliness and mental weariness, wrestles with comparison, and joys of companionship that have streaked my life in these last weeks have stretched and molded me.

I feel like a different person. And, in some ways, I am.

Part of this arises from my finding my identity in this new context. Entering the college environment, I am adjusting to new patterns of life, of academics, of work. Though I have undergone many transitions heretofore, this transition feels especially new and difficult as I am learning to exist both in a new academic sphere but also in a new country.

Every culture shock, raised voice, recycling bin, white face reminds me of my internal incongruity. I feel Malaysian in a way I have never felt before. Beyond pouring siracha on three-quarters of my meals (to taste something) and yearning for the ocean, I notice in myself a hunger for diversity, for new perspectives, for global nuance. Things not always found in my environment, things I need to seek out to experience.

But in this new environment, I also notice the creeping temptation, so prevalent in Western culture, to compare. To compete. To conform. To focus on dressing well, looking composed, reading quickly, working hard (and constantly), befriending instantly. To do this all in order to signal that I am worthy of your notice or admiration. And, being a people-focused person, I have fallen into this mindset at times.

In academics, I am pushed outside of my comfort zone by unfamiliar realms of study or literary genres, challenging me to grow in humility and resilience. At work, I am challenged to perfect my small talk skills, complete paperwork, and work with my hands and on my feet. All good, stretching things, and yet… draining.

Enveloped in these new changes and external pressures, I have struggled to keep my August determination, to choose slow. My default response is to survive, to plan, passively entering each situation, too overstimulated to be fully present. To wake up each day and move on to the next thing. There is an element of go-go-go that masks my true emotions, emotions, when my soul is weary, I do not want to feel. Rather than pause, I want to numb my mind by watching entertainment or falling asleep. This persistent activity is a coping mechanism to the change. But, in engaging in this behaviour, I have lost a part of myself, something I did not fully recognise until a read a quote by Liz Snell in a Rabbit Room blog post on poetry. Snell says, “Ours is a culture of endless demands on attention: we spend most of our time producing or consuming and very little processing.” This quote convicted me. It revealed to me that, in all this change, I was being stretched… but also losing my ability to reflect. My thoughtfulness, my intentionality, fruits of slowness and meditation.

Yes, it is good to grow — but not to the point of forgetting oneself.

So, I am learning grace, grace to slow down and to rest. To take more breaks, even when my work is yet undone. To pause long enough to hear God’s voice. By choosing to walk, to engage in imaginative prayer, to write letters, to journal, I am slowly learning to restore and renew my capacity to process. To see the world anew. To reflect. To accept change and challenge and to grow — but also to care for the sides of myself I value. To remind myself that the person I have been all these years is still inside me, even if I am in a different country and a different stage of life.