073: Plan N > Plan A

If someone were to invent a machine that can image thoughts, my head would probably resemble a multicoloured beehive. Cause a lot of the time, I tend to zone out and be immersed in thoughts. May be an explanation for why I am relatively quiet. For my head is already extremely noisy. And compartmentalising my thought processes takes concentration and effort; which is in part impossible to do when verbally communicating.

After reflecting, the bees in my head can be grossly categorised into 3 categories:
(a) observations
(b) ideas
(c) plans

Type C is what I want to elaborate on today.

I spend SO much time on this. When I was younger, I would plan my career path whilst in primary school. Family plans in high school. And now, retirement plans. My thoughts would be planning my life decades in the future, and then I would plan backwards - to figure out how I can achieve the goals set. Sometimes I would divulge my ever evolving future plans to my husband.

Today it would be, "This is my plan A and these are what I have to do now!"
Tomorrow it would be, "Wait, yesterday's plan is unfeasible. Now its revised plan A!"
The next day: "Ugh, I can't do this. Revised plan A is so beyond my reach. I mean, look at me! I'm not plan A material!"

...and so it continues everyday. Hypothetical assumptions upon hypothetical assumptions day in day out. Until my husband said one day, "Sayang, you can plan. But don't be so stressed about things that might not happen. Situations change, and often the outcomes are out of your control."

"Out of my control?!? It was the motivation, meticulous planning and focus that got me studying in London in the first place!"

"...or was it?"

London was never really Plan A. I wanted to go to Cambridge. This revelation prompted me to conduct a small review of all the Plan As I had in the past; and the results were quite astounding.

*Plan N stands for "not even in my radar"


Plan A : In high school, I wanted to participate in a school exchange to Japan.
Plan N : I went to a school exchange to Thailand.
I wanted to apply to Japan - cause it sounded amazing! But the caveat was that I had to be equipped with the talent of dance. And I have two left feet. I applied to Thailand on a whim.
And if I hadn't, I wouldn't have met my now husband.

Plan A : Medschool in Cambridge
Plan N : Gap year then UCL.
If I originally got accepted into Cambridge, most likely, I would be alone alot. Cause many of my friends are in London. Flat 10 with some of my now best friends from high school (ie. the greatest blessing of my first 3 years in London) wouldn't have happened. 
And Kenya wouldn't have happened. And writing for magazines as a job wouldn't have happened.
UCL and gap year was not even my plan B. It just happened.

Plan A : Undertake a BSc in Medical Anthropology
Plan N : I did a BSc in Philosophy
As I previously said, I am a planner. So the plan for Medical Anthropology was decided even before I started my first year. Then, I went to the BSc fair, and there was a niggling feeling in my heart that swayed for philosophy after an introductory talk. Asking Akmal at the time, he said, "Anthropologists observe, philosophers ponder." That gave me the courage to pursue a subject totally different from what I was used to. And if I didn't follow my gut and jump head first, I wouldn't have walked away from that year completely loving learning with a Dean's List under my belt.

Plan A : After marriage, Akmal was to continue his Master in Architecture in Manchester
Plan N : He didn't get the offer. But instead, he got a job in London.
This. An example of outcomes when one lets go and trusts that everything would be ok. Before marriage, getting Akmal to UK was our main priority. So it seemed that the only way was for him to continue studying in Manchester. And when that fell through, it was difficult to accept. 
But after getting married, it felt like jigsaw puzzles that we didn't realise existed, just assembled themselves into place. Not only was Akmal and I able to live together as newlyweds, but also his company gave him a major raise - so much so he was able to finance both of us in London. Subhanallah! I have to intermittently pinch myself to ensure that this is really my life. I don't know what I did to deserve such gifts.


So here are a few examples, but I know that the list is endless.
Since then, I have adopted a rather laissez-fair approach to planning. If I was a teenager again, I would have a 20 step plan to being a surgeon by now. But as it stands, I am undecided on my future career path. I have a narrowed down list but its content changes month by month. And I am perfectly fine with that.

Cause what I do know for sure is that whatever happens, it will happen for the best. I could plan everything perfectly, but once I get there, I know that there again would be that gut feeling, or that chance encounter with an important person, or that spiritual push towards the right path. And that is beyond my control, for it is divinely constructed. This doesn't mean I can let go and not do the work. Hard work is still an essential requirement - but maybe less towards a specific goal, and more for the sake of working hard. As I have learnt, I am selling myself short if I didn't give it all I got.

At the end of the day, I find comfort knowing that Allah swt is up there leading me to the right path. For if I were to rely on myself alone to decide whats best for me, I would be lost. And I pray that wherever the right path may lead, that He pushes me to my greatest potential and utilises me for the greater good.

Ameen.

072: I can do that

Once in a while I encounter what I call "I can do that" conversations.

For instance, I was in a gastroenterology clinic last year, and one of the consultants was talking to me about the London tube strikes. He said, addressing the underground tube drivers "Their jobs are so easy, I could do it. Even kindergarteners can do them - its just pressing buttons."

Another example could be the well-known hierarchy in the professional medical world where orthopaedic surgeons are often called "glorified carpenters".  Stereotypically, an ortho is a tall, buff male who played rugby in university. Meaning if one is in that profession, it is implied that one needs or has less cognitive power compared to their other colleagues. After hearing it countless of times, embarrassingly, I got caught believing in this stereotype.

So I brought it home with me. In one of our conversations discussing my future career prospects, I said to my husband, "Do you know what they call orthopaedic surgeons?"

"What?"

"Glorified carpenters. They are quite low down the pecking order."

I expected a laugh, but laughter didn't come. Then, he replied.

"Imagine if there weren't any orthopaedic surgeons, who do you think would fix all those knees and broken bones? Everyone would just be in pain or limping or both."

I tried to think of a smart comeback, but none came. In instances like these, I'm afraid the husband is right. This mentality of perceived superiority is really toxic - fuelling egos and marginalising the work of important groups of individuals.

My husband continued, "It is not who is better than whom. Everyone has their place and their role in society. We need one another." Yup, I married a smart one.

So I thought about what the consultant once told me about the tube drivers. Case and point; look what happens when they do go on strike. London goes into complete chaos. People lining up a block away from the station, buses filled to the brim, work slows down, businesses lose money, and the list goes on. Yes, you might think you are better than them, but you can't deny you need them.

I recently watched a documentary on BBC about China's new rich. After the economic boom, the country saw many young self-made millionaires. However on the other end of the economic inequality divide, there are still many struggling financially - sometimes leaving their children at home in the village on months on end to find jobs in the city. In one of the scenes, the journalist interviewed one of these men, a factory worker who works everyday, 12 hours a day, making car parts.

She asked, "What do you think about the Chinese millionaires? I met some guys in the city who had insanely expensive cars. One of them had a Lamborghini worth 600k."

He replied, "Without workers like me, how can they afford that? The products can only be made because of the work we do."

How right you are man, how right you are.

If you pluck a janitor to do a CEO's job, I doubt he can handle it. But likewise, if you ask a CEO to carry out a janitor's job, I doubt he can do it either. Everyone has their roles - no one is less important that the next. Cause however important you might feel, ultimately you can be replaced.

So next time I find myself feeling superior to others, I have to firstly kick myself... hard.
Then, be reminded that most likely, I can't do what he does.

071: Humble beginnings

We have officially moved out of our first marital home yesterday. It was a small studio apartment in a student accommodation building in Stratford City. As many memories were fostered there, needless to say we left with a heavy heart. Bittersweet really, because we practically built our 2nd home from scratch - cleaning it, painting the walls and buying the furniture - its alot bigger too, so its a definite step up. But the studio was and will always be our first little space to ourselves.

Before getting married, I was quite apprehensive about the flat. Not only was it way smaller than what I was used to (living in a 4bed flat with girls), it was also in an unfamiliar part of town. Wayyy east, in Zone 3 of London. It would also like reliving my stint in student halls in my first year of university -often drunk and noisy teenagers, dirty bathrooms, rowdy behaviour, etc. But we had our own bathroom and kitchen, so we figured it wouldn't be so bad.
So yes, I was very nervous - so many prayers were uttered to ease this particular transition.

However, I did not expect it to be as good as it was. A few things I couldn't have predicted:

1. We loved being in a small space. 
Maybe it was that our wedding bells were chimed only few month prior so we were effectively still on a honeymoon, but it was nice that there weren't any physical walls between us. I might be a clingy wife, but sometimes when I was studying on the desk and Akmal would be working on his laptop on the bed, I would miss him. So I would urge him to sit next to me, or I would slide next to him. Like I said, clingy.

Even after transitioning to our also humble 2 bed apartment, we spent many weeks sleeping on our sofa bed in our living room instead of on our nice, comfy bed in the bedroom. Mainly because it was now weird having a room just for sleeping. Strange, but true. After 3 whole months, we have only just accustomed ourselves to the extra space a few days ago - now comfortably sleeping in our bedroom. Although I foresee the sofa bed still being used from time to time.

Less space also means less stuff. And less stuff means less clutter. And less clutter makes a happy Ayne.

2. Our friends moved to Stratford.
This was a total surprise on our part too. Cause having moved from central London, everyone knows that if you are Malaysian, most likely you would end up living in Bayswater/Paddington. But maybe being the exceptions to that rule, two of our high school friends decided to move into our area at the same time we were moving in. Wawa was a mere 10 minutes walk away and Fred lived in our building. We didn't consult one another on this prior to us moving, it just happened. So Fred, being one of the groomsmen in our wedding, kept my husband company a lot of the time. Tea was served and our flat became like a bro's cave when I was at school. And since Wawa and Fred were in their final year of medical school, Akmal became Fred's "test patient" in preparation for his exams, and I became Wawa's on occasion. Fred being the only guy in his cohort of Malaysian medics at Queen Mary would have struggled to find a "test patient" if we were not in close living proximity. It was really, Akmal to the rescue! Haha.
Alhamdulillah, they both passed - and they are now doctors!
How beautiful did Allah swt arrange our lives!

So we weren't alone in Stratford - we had a community around us. One that enjoys each others company, each others home cooked food and nights of endless board games.

3. We had many guests over.
Before moving in, the kitchen gave the greatest anxiety. The flat was initially meant for disabled students, so the kitchen counter was alot lower than normal, accommodating for possible tenants on wheelchairs. However, after taking a few weeks to adjust our posture when cutting up vegetables and cooking sauces on the shorter stove, we acclimatised to the kitchen quite well. Although, there might have been a few instances of sore necks and backs in the process.

There wasn't any space for a dining table. Nada, zilch. So we had two options: (a) to eat on our desk, or (b) to eat on the floor. We opted for the latter, purchasing a picnic blanket on Amazon. So every night at dinner time, our tartan blanket would be gently placed on the small floorspace connecting our kitchen, workspace and bedroom. On it, laid magnificent meals because of course, I married an amazing husband cum chef. I cook pretty well too *insert self-advertisement here*. And we enjoyed eating meals together every night. But I didn't expect that we could share that small space with the many people we did.

We had many friends over for gorgeous dinners of nasi lemak, nasi kerabu and sometimes, a full roast dinner. At most, we had 6 people eating together on the floor at one time. How we manage, I couldn't tell you. But all our guests were more than happy to sit cross-legged on the blanket sharing a meal with us. It goes to show, you don't necessarily need a big house to host awesome dinner parties! One just needs good company and good food.




So in a nutshell, we are grateful for our little studio. If in the future, we are destined to live in a bungalow, so be it - but we will forever be reminded where we started. In our tiny home in Stratford.

070: Visual representations of knowledge

A sketch to visually represent what I learnt from a Nouman Ali Khan lecture.