My mom gave me this story
I’ve always got a soft spot for old things. I think I got it from my mother, an ardent collector of antique wares when I was a kid growing up in the 80s. I didn’t understand it then and constantly probed her why she spent so much money on such things, like a Chinese 3-seater that doesn’t have soft cushioning.
The most vivid memory I have was the night she came home with a 6 x 4ft wooden triptych of 15 Chinese fairies lazing around the mountain stream (yes, it's that vivid!). It was decided as the center piece of our living room and I was furious. I couldn’t stand another antique in the living room while my friends’ houses were modern colorful paintings of sea-mountain landscapes. So I confronted her several weeks later and it goes something like this…
ME: Why do you spend so much money on this wood?
MOM: It is worth it.
ME: How?
MOM: Because I come home from a hard day’s work to see something beautiful.
ME: Why is it beautiful?
MOM: Dunno. Just staring at it makes it worthwhile.
I bought that logic. It sounds silly, I know, but it made sense. Ever since that night, I was always staring the that triptych, imaging myself lazing ideally in the mountains. Sometimes, I was one of the fairies, and when I turned 13, I was all of them. Staring had become my favorite past time.
This story has significance in my life and it has formed a series of connection to the traits I have today.
1.I’ve learnt to train my eyes to spot things, be it pretty, odd or ugly. Thus, slowly forming my own judgment to what is good-looking, irregardless of it pretty, odd or ugly to my neighbor’s eyes.
2.Doing so heighten my sensitivity to my surrounding and appreciation for things that are less-liked.
3.No one likes it, I can afford to own it, hence increases the value of my appreciation for it. Knowing that I’ve unique taste also gives me great satisfaction, and along, a new playground for me to ask why so, and breeds new imagination.
4.But I also realize that I can be weak to social pressure. I’ve conformed to pop cultures a lot of times; liking the assurance that everyone is in it. If everyone is in it, it can’t be lonely, right? Wrong. Because my heart was not content with what the mind decides and an on-going mind-fuck begins.
5.By not liking this, we return to Point 1, the fundamental lesson from the conversation with my mother.
The heart knows what the mind doesn’t.
My mom’s antique collection is a metaphor for the series of connections above. They are basic principals to making great or choices, be it love, money, career and even things I chose to represent www.ilovesnackfood.com. Each decision breeds new stories, and behind it, a light of reasoning. This is what matters most for me.
Writing this, I admit I’m afraid for taking 4 months off work, no pay. But most of, I'm tired of getting weird-amused looks when I tell peeps about this sabbatical. I wish I can explain, but I’ll need more wisdom before I do so. For now, my mom didn’t blink an eye, so it’s ok.
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