A friend once asked me, “Why do you write on this blog for? It’s not like you have many readers/followers.”
It was a good question that got me thinking. Why do I write? Who am I writing for? What good comes out of my writing? Was it even worth the time and effort to compose pieces and publish it out for the world to see when barely 1% of the world’s population even knew of its existence?
At that moment, I replied, “I write because I enjoy the process and I hope that anyone, even if it’s just one person, can sigh and say – this perfectly describes how I feel.”
Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about what is means to be compassionate. At the bookstores or the library, I flip the pages of countless books. I realised that many authors write about compassion, and how it is important to practice compassion in our daily lives. Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking much about this word lately hence, the word strikes a chord within me and I find myself unknowingly drawn to it.
Google states that: – Compassion is the sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.
Over the last one year, I have strived to alter my thinking of others by attempting to be more understanding and, as they all say, compassionate. I feel like I’ve been doing a great job till recently.
You know that feeling when you look into the mirror and you feel that your body looks fine. But then somehow the longer you stare, the bigger your body seems to become. And then without realising, you are staring back at an ugly and fat person that you don’t recognise anymore.
As Mulan once sang, “Who is this girl I see, staring straight back at me?”
And that is how it feels right now. Preaching the importance of compassion is easy, but how do we know if our actions encompass the true essence of what it means to be truly compassionate? Is there a gauge to which we can compare, reflect and learn?
Which draws me back to the start of what I’d written. The simple question of –
Why do you do what you do.
It can be simple crafts like folding paper flowers, sewing, oil painting, or drawing comic books. Or scalable ones like volunteering for a charitable cause or running a marathon.
Throwback to 2 years ago when I first started pursuing my degree. At that moment I realised the potential of my being, and that anyone of us can be who we want to be. There’s a catch, though. You need to believe it with your whole heart of who you want to become.
You need to set realistic goals, stay disciplined, and work your way towards it. In a nutshell; Dream Big, Small Efforts.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the hairdressers to fix my hair. The hairdresser chided me for not blow-drying my hair, as I have frizzy hair and it apparently helps tame the condition.
It was a chore having to spare time out of the already busy morning, just to dry my hair prior leaving. If I was not such a vainpot, I probably could not care less. But there is a price to pay for beauty and so I grit through my teeth and acknowledged that this would be well-worth in the long run.
Fast-forward 6 weeks to today, I realised that the ritual of drying my hair every morning felt therapeutic. I started enjoying the process. It felt good not having bad hair days. It made me confident.
This got me thinking about how the initial steps are always the hardest. When you start on something for the first time, it feels foreign and challenging. In time, with sufficient practice, you discover tricks or “hacks” and are able to carry out with much ease.
Everyone sucks at the beginning. So just keep sucking till you don’t suck anymore.
This week, I have been thinking hard about my passion, my goals, and what I intend to accomplish for the year.
A friend told me that the word “passion” is overused and much too cliche. His reason being that there exist people who live simply for the idea of living. But I beg to differ.
We are complex humans with varied emotions. We feel happy, sad, angry, frustrated, disgust, and the list goes on. We have our interests and dislikes.
Passion, like Hate, is a strong emotive word. It is a strong feeling for something/someone and a thin line is drawn between the two.
But then again, it is rather perceptive so all I did was smile silently. As they all say, don’t waste your time with explanations: people only hear what they want to hear.
At work, I have placed a makeshift board asking people about their passion. Good friends have contributed and it is an eclectic mix of abstract. It is heartening to know that we have such a diverse range of interests and goals in life yet somehow fate brought us together, even if for a season.
It’s no secret that I enjoy writing. Writing about people, for people; this is something I’m most passionate about. I enjoy the process of structuring my thoughts and laying them out on the floor – or rather, across this white screen. It can be frustrating and challenging at times when I am unable to properly accentuate the fundamentals, yet satisfaction is derived through persistence and time where the truth will ultimately be revealed.
If I started this blog, or even writing, in order to gain fame and attention, my passion would not have lasted till today. My writing style, my voice, the topic I choose to engage with my audience – all this would be different. Maybe, I might even choose not to write anymore because it serves no purpose as who reads it anyway?
So why do I write?
Well, I write because as long as I know that there exists even one person who enjoys what they read, I’ll continue writing – about them, for them.
And if you’re reading this, I hope you know that I wrote this for you.