How strange that we should ordinarily feel compelled to hide our wounds when we are all wounded! Community requires the ability to expose our wounds and weaknesses to our fellow creatures. It also requires the ability to be affected by the wounds of others... But even more important is the love that arises among us when we share, both ways, our woundedness.

~ M. Scott Peck

One time I was temporarily living in an apartment complex with a very heavy door at the entrance with restricted access. Other people from work were living there too. I happened to talk to one of them during lunch. I mentioned in the course of conversation that I could hear the loud bang of the entrance door closing from inside my flat. This person brushed it off and didn't believe me. Apparently they couldn't hear anything so I was just imagining things. I knew I wasn't but I also know I am ultra-sensitive to sound so thought it possible I heard the sound, but others just didn't.

That little exchange stayed with me. Perhaps because it was one of the numerous times where my own experience, observation, or perception was invalidated as being all in my head. Only later I found out this person lived on the 10th floor. I was on the 2nd floor. So it wasn't that I was too sensitive to sound, it wasn't that I was imagining things... the actual conditions in which we were experiencing things were different, though outwardly they looked the same! Had that person trusted my experience... there might have been some understanding. Instead, they chose to believe that what didn't match their own experience was not true or made up by an overactive imagination. Makes one think about how we go through life holding onto our own truths, rarely trying to see what the other person sees, where they might be seeing it from…

I think about my early life experiences a lot more these days, sometimes with new eyes. Side-effect of growing older? I compare and contrast—circumstances, responses, how they shaped me, where I have come now, and many other things. It makes me feel very humble and helps me accept things much more stoically. Like when I moved into my new home in the UK—would I have ever dreamt I would do a PhD in the UK or have a house over there!—so when I moved in, there was no furniture of course. Still there isn't. There was no time before my trip and there's a lot to think about before I get heavy stuff. I layered a lot of mats and bedsheets in a corner of the living room and slept on it. Funnily, you'd think with the tiny things that bother me, this would take the cake! But it actually reminded me of where I came from... in a good way I should say. It reminded me I could do and have done with so, so little. I looked at the roof, the heating, the bath, the food... and I thought, wasn't I living in literal luxury? What more could one need?

Today it was raining very heavily where I am. I have never experienced this kind of rain here in China on previous trips and certainly not in the UK. It rains all the time in the UK, but it never feels like real rain. Today there was real rain. And this rain took me back to the old days. To Mumbai. Walking, trudging, almost wading in this rain today... scared that I will fall... trying to put my feet in shallow water… but at many points the water was pretty deep on the sidewalk, with no way to flow out either side... water in my shoes, jeans all wet, hair soaked, sweat trickling... Thankfully the umbrella was big. I prayed I wouldn't slip, clumsy as I am. I couldn't help thinking how I have forgotten what real rain feels like. How battling real rain feels like. Here I was getting so worked up walking in clean rainwater and there was a time I had to face hours of jumping around dirty icky water. Rickshaws, taxis, cars, buses whooshing past drenching me in it. After long waits we somehow got into rickshaws and made our way home. It was an ordeal! Thinking about those days in the past brought me back to ground. Steadied my feet. I wasn't new to this at all... it all came back to me. I was grateful…

Drip, drip, drip. Repetitive sounds annoy me. Why so many plumbing problems, I think to myself. That too just days before my big trip. Big trips make me anxious. Planning, organising, anticipating, disruption × 10. I could have done with a little peace. Seeing as this year's been a roller coaster, a stop before another ride would have helped. But it's not to be. How do I make this sound stop, I think to myself. I found a way. Put the plastic dish-washing thing on a sponge in the sink and the tap drip does not hit with a sound. Relief. But I still have to solve this problem. Must it have to happen now...? Well, let me call a different plumber. I must test out a few frogs before I find the prince. Wait, I don't need to worry about the sound now I am leaving for work. Funnily I recall the old philosophical problem. When water drips in the sink and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound? Clearly not!

Here I thought I was having it bad with the dripping and the tripping... now I feel emotionally numb on top of it. What was it Shakespeare said about troubles not coming singly but in battalions... It's a good thing that most people can carry on carrying on without stopping to ask existential questions. I wish I could wake up, brush my teeth, eat my breakfast, go for work... etc on autopilot mode. Not reflect too much on the whys and wherefores. I don't remember much of the process of brushing or bathing because I am so immersed in thought. I forget if I really washed my face sometimes and do it again. No harm doing it twice, is there? Someone said on Facebook the other day that she brushes with her left hand to be more intentionally focused on brushing. Wow! I don't know about that... if the brush grazes my teeth for enough time with no recollection from me, did they really get brushed...? Yes, I think...?

I am in China now. Settling in slowly, setting up my routines. Having been here before, my body seems to know its way around. There is no anxiety that comes from the complete unknown. Immediately, I encounter the natural helpfulness/kindliness of people. Not effortful or studied or appearances sake. My stuff left last year is stored by the property management run by mostly women. I message this lady if she could bring it to my flat for me. Trying my luck. She's there at my door. Barely an hour later. With three bulky boxes. I compare my interactions with people in the UK. There is a transactional quality to them that leaves me very cold sometimes. Like if you showed a human heart, it'd be blasphemy, an imposition. Must be as detached as you can, never exceed your boundaries. Which is why sometimes when something overflows, it touches me. The chap who finally came to fix the sink blockage (yes, the tap dripping was followed by yet another problem!) at home was an elderly man who found the door access system too technical for him. But he knew his own stuff. I was so thankful when he fixed the sink thing. When I paid him in cash, he took it and kissed my hand. It shocked me for a second but in a good way. It felt comfortingly human…