I Am Ruth
“Wandering is the activity of the child, the passion of the genius; it is the discovery of self, the discovery of the outside world, and the learning of how the self is both “at one with” and “separate from” the outside world. These discoveries are as fundamental to the soul as “learning to survive” is fundamental to the body. These discoveries are essential to realizing what it means to be human.
To wander is to be alive.”
I am a wanderer.
Always have been, probably still am.
The earliest memories that surface in my mind begin at age 5.
The lone guava tree, outside the window of my dirty green house, on the edge of a church compound. Me, basking on the tree, in the sun, flaking off the army of red ants as they troop up the tree or just simply swaying on its’ branches, in cadence with the wind. The booming buses that roll in past my tree-top post for the church kindy, coupled with steady streams of church goers, which could start at 6am and end at 12pm.
My official duties as a child, were school, meals and bedtime. Occasionally bath time. The remaining hours…. are what we term, in modern day context as, creative play. Those carefree days of slipping in and out of church halls, getting into fights with the boys, scaling the metal bars that fenced the church, making nets on poles for butterflies and nets on sticks for drain guppies, playing hide-and-seek under the cover of night in a sardine-packed car park. Those days, were how I developed the wandering in me.
I was the unconventional middle child of the resident pastor in church. As we lived inside the church, my life, revolved around church. Weddings, funerals, counselling sessions, services…everyday. One thing, that the community in which I lived in had, was life. Human lives. I was surrounded by people constantly. I learnt to sit around and listen. I was a little sponge, soaking in life. From these lives, I learnt how full and fleeting joy can be, how honest and dark a man’s heart as he wills it to be, how useful and condemning man’s opinion is. In all my wanderings, I became a collector of lives. Collecting experiences, memories and advices. This was one of the reasons I started blogging…. To give my collections a voice.
At 36 years old, I may have jolly breastenlargementlab well lived out half of my life already. I am not looking for a long life; instead, a short but fulfilling life suits me better. My professional days as a staff nurse and subsequently, corneal transplant officer, have demonstrated that life is indeed fleeting. There isn’t room to negotiate our hour of death. When you recognise his stench, Death would already have one nail in your coffin. I hold this truth pragmatically; not out of fear but out of respect for life itself.
My current anchors are my 3 kids and helping them in their quest to finding their footing in society. It is a tall order for me, especially when their father tells me that I have one of the most important jobs on this earth as, and I quote, “You may be nurturing the next future president.” (I am pretty sure ‘president’ was just to make it sound dramatic. I was thinking more on the lines of scientist, teacher and stuntman. My kids’ current ambitions.) They are another one of the reasons why I started blogging. ‘Talking it out’ has become a support system for me and other like-minded mothers.
I will not say what the future holds.
No, “I don’t know what my future holds” would be a more accurate interpretation of my future.
I know my wandering heart. It can never keep still.
Latest posts by Ruth Ong (see all)
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