AsI get older, I have become the person I was always meant to be. When I look into the mirror in the morning, I secretly wish I was young again. My long curly hair has disappeared. My youthful looks have faded into nothingness. Our relevance to society reduces as we age.
Yet within my brotherhood, I find friendships in the most unlikely places. We are no longer rivals — we nourish each other. We lean on each other. We share our anxieties and experiences openly. Perspective puts a different lens to help to be open.
I learned to breathe through the pain of my separations. It eased the anxiety and the uncertainty. Taking one day at a time helped me to step into the next moment. Life took care of itself, moment by moment. I moved on.
These dynamic changes propelled me to take a quantum leap, leaving a lifelong industry and moving to a new undiscovered industry. I got into a job that I had not done before. I reinvented myself, learning the ropes of content design and bringing my curiosity to another level. I moved away from my comfort zone. I met a whole set of creative designers.
Now, I live the best life, running a creative practice,s and managing an awesome team.
When Covid hit more than two years ago, I changed again. My team and I started working from home. With the change of lifestyle, I evolved. I did my team meetings and 1:1s walking in my beautifully landscaped neighbourhood. Thanks to my Apple watch, I walked 12 kilometres e. I saw an exercise physiologist and worked out every alternate day. As a result, I lost 3 kgs, which is 5% of my body weight. I changed my diet and learned to cook new varieties of food. I adopted wearing casual clothes, moving away from office attire. I upgraded my tech gear, from my Apple devices to the sound system. I subscribed to Apple Music, allowing me to listen to thousands of songs.
I befriended my neighbours and played table tennis with them on weekends, often beating a bunch of young thirty-something men. I learnt about human trafficking in Africa by watching a myriad of challenging movies on streaming services. I learned to draw on my iPad and rediscovered my love for artwork.
I started writing on medium and am pursuing it rigorously as a daily habit. It is therapeutic and self-soothing. I love it.
These gifts of self-contentment were the best gifts of Covid-induced change of lifestyle. So my stars aligned for me.
I imagine when I can travel again to various corners of the world and meet my brother and old friends, I grew up with. I imagine volunteering in Sri Lanka, in the education field or social sciences, encouraging creativity and reinvention.
I imagine myself waiting impatiently until my grandkids become teenagers to walk with them and share the joys of creativity and my own stories of reinvention.
A Child of Curiosity How inherent inquisitiveness became a key driver in learning experiences. Denzil Jayasinghe · B orn in the mid-20th century, I am a product of the post-World War II era. My parents, who were teenagers when the war commenced, married in the 1950s. As a representative of the baby boomer generation, I was born under the astrological sign of Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac. My birth took place at Zoysa Nursing Home, a renowned institution in Colombo, Sri Lanka, around 5 in the morning. Sri Lanka, known for its tropical climate, is a beautiful island nation south of India. This climate appealed to me, and I sought similar weather in my twenties, spending them in Dubai, where the winter resembles an Australian summer. Raised by religious parents, I held them in deep affection. However, the church teachings posed a paradox for a young mind, instructing one to love God more than one’s parents. I initially adhered to the Ten Commandments and other societal norms in ...
Packing lists An addiction to packing lists Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read·Nov 6, 2022 My fascination with packing lists started when I was young. Eventually, it became a life-long habit, a kind of addiction. When I enrolled at the Christian brothers’ formative school at eleven, a packing list was given to my parents. 2 School shorts 2 School shirts, white 2 Baniyans, aka vests 4 Pairs of white socks 1 Sarong 2 Casual shirts 2 Casual shorts 2 Handkerchiefs 1 Toothbrush 1 Comb 1 Bedsheet 2 Pillowcases 1 Pair of black shoes 1 Pair of canvas sports shoes My parents went into fast gear to assemble the packing list. My father started from the bottom of the list, the shoes. He took me by bus to Colombo to P G Martins, a shoemaker. We came out of that shoe store with DS-branded black and Shinwa-branded canvas shoes. Also bought was a Ford suitcase, in shiny sky-blue colour. Mother bought vests and socks from Velona, a garment outlet run by one of our relations, Aunty Helen. A trip to a ta...
Neville at the Edge Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read · 10 hours ago In the lazy, sun-dappled days at St. Joseph’s Novitiate, where the beach seemed to hum with the scent of jasmine and the distant promise of monsoon clouds, there was a little haven we boys held dear — the Milk Bar. It was a humble shack just beyond the school’s creaky gates, its tin roof glinting under the noon sun, its wooden counter cluttered with frothy glasses of Milo, bottles of sweet vanilla milk, and a jumble of pencils and dog-eared notebooks for forgetful lads like us. To us, De La Salle boys, it wasn’t just a shop. It was a sanctuary, where the weight of prayers and the Brother-Superior’s stern frowns dissolved into the clink of coins and the soft buzz of our chatter. Neville was always there, a gangly boy with limbs that seemed to outgrow him, as if they belonged to a taller shadow. His parents had sent him to the Novitiate dreaming he’d don a Christian Brother’s collar, but Neville, with his twice-failed ...
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