A strong stomach — What's needed in the face of uncertainty and growth

"I wish to have a stronger stomach," I mumbled to myself, while lying awake in bed in the dead of night between days and weeks of stress induced by simultaneous projects that were the result of the pandemic delaying works and forcing deadlines to stack.

That was a mouthful. I felt it as I typed it. And if you felt a little breathless after reading it, then perhaps that is what I wanted you to feel in relation to what I am experiencing. But this feeling may be familiar to you too!

All around me, I see friends and peers with looming questions of self-sustainability in the new normal and shaky resolves that have been tested by this long-drawn crisis. Unfortunately, those who can muster up coherent words are less believable to me. They feel like many words cobbled together to resemble aspirations, but they come off as delusions instead.

But this is not the first time that I have been in such a state of mind. And these moments of stress are not unique to a pandemic. They are a part of a journey seemingly worth taking. Those who are closer to where they want to be say that the journey they took is long and arduous. They make it sound like a prerequisite - a marker of worth. Though we would be oblivious if not to acknowledge those who had taken a more comfortable ride to their destination.

But what is that destination? It is not a point on a map, or a fixed set of tangible measures. It is contextual and relative - fluid to our constant evolution despite sometimes how slow it may feel.

So perhaps that's why we gravitate to the pit-stops along the way, the seemingly necessary stages that will get us to where we want to go, or at least the general direction of it. But at each stage, there is conflict.

And the ignition of conflict is as varied as the people themselves. However, one of the most common is that of 'what's right'? For when different people come together, how does one reconcile the differences of perspectives and opinions in the context of responsibilities, egos and circumstances?

When I was a child at least, we looked towards what was right or correct. A decade of schooling had predominantly attached value to those who scored the most in a series of tests where one is examined to seek the right answer. And if subjectivity is involved, then what is the 'best'?

But what is the best? I once queued for century egg porridge in my neighbourhood. I enjoyed how the hawker prepared this dish and so did many of his regulars. Yet, on one quiet afternoon as I waited for my porridge to be cooked, I overheard two office ladies, one of which was familiar with the hawker centre showing the other around. They walked by the porridge stall and the latter asked if this stall would be a potential choice - a suggestion that was violently objected to by her friend who said that she does not enjoy his style of cooking porridge in the slightest.

I sat down quietly and thought, it could not be that bad right? How do I make sense of a world where both my enjoyment and her dissatisfaction of the same dish can co-exist? I have yet to reconcile that within me.

And this rather mundane moment in my life keeps popping back up when my own works are reviewed by a group of people representing the client.How do I prepare myself for my work being critiqued for the sake of improvement while acknowledging that every party including myself has biases. And if one person of relatively higher authority does not prefer a certain approach or method that I’ve taken, does that result in a need to adapt the work accordingly?

I've seen people dejected by this prevalent factor in their work. What seems 'right' or 'best' is bestowed assumingly to the person with the most power of authority by hierarchy rather than by execution.

I consider myself lucky in this regard, for my involvement in works acknowledges my relative heightened senses for the responsibilities imbued to me as a Documentary Storyteller. And as an external party, I am less bound by hierarchical pressures.But I also acknowledge that any reliance on my relative subject matter authority to justify the creative choices I have will be lazy at best, and will risk missing magical opportunities at the worst.

Because for the most part, I am most lucky to work with people who have a fundamental respect for the subject matter. And so, while the conversations are difficult and acid-like to one's self-esteem, it is such a worthwhile process because I have seen my work be made better because of it.

In times like this, I recall this philosophy, "There is more than one right answer." - That is a liberating dilemma coming from the wisdom of Dewitt Jones. And to continue to explore the wonders of this philosophy, I wish to have a stronger stomach.

Here's a clip of Dewitt Jones for your viewing pleasure