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 ...
Shattered Innocence A story of a needle Denzil Jayasinghe · “Shattered Innocence. A Story of a Needle” by Denzil Jayasinghe is a short story told from the perspective of a lad who discovers their father injecting insulin . This discovery shatters his innocence as he grapples with the reality of his father’s diabetes and the fear and uncertainty it brings. The story explores themes of family, responsibility, and the challenges of facing difficult realities. T he pre-dawn light filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over a scene that shattered my world. We were lost in the quiet routine of getting ready — me for the apprenticeship, my siblings for school, and my father for his work. I wandered into my parents’ room, searching for the familiar black comb. What I found wasn’t the comb but a sight that froze me in my tracks. Father, stripped down to his white undies, his usually strong face creased with worry, was doing something… di...
The Man with the Bicycle A Godfather Without English Denzil Jayasinghe 5 min read So this fellow, Wijetunga, arrived one humid afternoon in Warakanatte – a name given by the government, clipped from some dusty file in a distant ministry, and pinned onto our village like a misfitting badge. He came not with fanfare, but with the tiredness of a man who had travelled not just across provinces but across unspoken expectations. The new Grama Sevaka – government-appointed village functionary, dispenser of forms and permits, arbitrator of neighbourly disputes, and authoriser of rice ration books. He hailed from Enderamulla, a place that stirred vague murmurs among the older women in our family – whispers of ancestral ties, of some great-uncle’s cousin’s child from that neighbouring village. But no one invited him for tea. No one mentioned him at the dinner table as anything more than “the new man in the office.” Despite the murmurs, he remained a stranger- neither embraced nor excluded-...
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