The first notification I received upon waking up today was from my Aunt. It was a six and a half minute long video of the sunrise. My first reaction was to question how she had the patience to stand by the window for six and a half minutes and my next, why I had never spent even a fraction of a minute to admire the sunrise.
Sunrise in Bainbridge Island, Washington
Sunrises are truly a luxury and I say that not because rare. The opportunities to view a sunrise arises undisputedly often — once every 24 hours seems almost excessively often, for that matter; how do I get more time in a day?! — it’s something I would miss every day, without fail. The sun rises at 7:09am sharp in Singapore. Typically, sunrises are fraught with anxiety as being a “punctual” person, I have somehow figured out the latest possible timings I can do everything by to get to school on time: leave the house by 7:12am, leave the condominium gates by 7:17am, catch the MRT by 7:22am, get on the bus by 7:37 am, reach the school gates by 7:42am and sprint across the school compound to the rhythm of the instrumental version of the school song to reach the classroom by 7:45am just before the national anthem is played. These times probably came about with trial and (yikes) error and somehow the repetitive routine of getting to school became a mini race against time. At 7:09am, as the day sees its first beams of light, I would probably be scarfing down breakfast and furiously buttoning my uniform. In the next hour, I shield myself from the sun’s glory as I rage through the transport system and in the following hours, my pampered ass sits in the air-conditioned classroom as I listen to mildly interesting lectures. It’s only when the sun’s golden yellow, gentle rays become damn retina-attacking laser beams and its jocund honeyed glow transforms into a mercilessly torching glare do I finally, and reluctantly, come to see the sun (or not, my retinas get attacked by light and it’s a battle I don’t even want to be involved in).
The weekends, on the other hand, are spent sleeping in to make up for the sharp sleep deficit I have worked myself into during the weekdays and the sun’s warmth gets coldly turned away by my hefty curtains that drape over thick UV cutting window panes. I lie in bed right now as the irony hits: I snooze through nature’s alarm clock and constructed one of my own, with an inner clockwork that’s vastly different and in most cases, conflicting nature’s.
Perhaps this is why it feels like the world works against me — because I’m working against it.
Not gonna lie, not listening to nature has been a problematic and resurfacing occurrence in my life. Maybe it’s a teenage thing, maybe it’s a Singaporean thing, maybe it’s just a human thing. Haven’t you had that friend who would always brag about pulling that all-nighter to finish the last homework assignment or work report? What about ignoring your gut feelings about something and letting others influence your decisions? Fad diets and magical products that help suppress your natural hunger cues? Urbanisation and global warming?! We’re not just constructing buildings and rooms that physically separate us from nature. We wholly isolate ourselves from nature and its workings and blame ourselves for the ill consequences. It’s like setting ourselves up for failure, isn’t it? But when everyone’s stuck in this sustained game of working against nature, it’s hard to break free from it.
I think it’s amazing to see someone make the time and effort to reconnect themselves with nature and appreciate the simple luxuries. And in my humble opinion, that’s as good as any trending meditation app, wordy spiritual books or wallet-straining yoga class. Maybe this is something I’ll do differently this year. Maybe this year, it’s time to rekindle our relationship with nature.