Letters From Singapore: The Praying Room From Changi Airport (2/2)

Fear laughs in my face. It caught me out of my happy place.

I left the cafe.

And the two hours or so that followed were somehow different from what I imagined. In fact, it was to be expected.

Almost the whole day I was in constant tension, trying as if to hide from myself. I made choices out of fear, forgetting to ask my heart what felt meaningful.

The coffee shook me inside. No matter how much I told myself that the heart was calm and maintaining its rhythm, the mind on the other hand became more and more restless.

After going through security and checking where the boarding gate was, I sat down in a blue armchair staring at the commercial with Cate Blanchett and Si by Giorgio Armani. The shades of red in this ad have been following me since I arrived at the airport.

I feel drawn to the magnetism and luxury conveyed and imagine myself buying the perfume. I tell myself I would deserve it, it’s been a while since I’ve had it and it’s been a few weeks since I last used my salty vanilla perfume sample.

The ad almost achieved its goal, if I had the money to spare I would have chosen to buy it (I guess that’s a well done ad). Although, come to think of it, I already have a Bali Rain mixed with spices & Ylang Ylang which is enough for me. I tell myself that everything comes at the right time.

The restlessness demands its peace.

I decide to walk around the airport, in the area where I am close to the boarding gate.

An arrangement with flowers and white butterflies caught my attention, and I head there but also looking at the panels out of curiosity, on one of them I see “Praying Room” written.

Praying Room

Well, that’s not what I expected to react to.

Instinctively, I change direction and follow the directions to the prayer/meditation room.

I tell myself that I didn’t get to meditate today, so maybe I can do it now. Although I suspect it will be about something else entirely.

I entered the room. A place for all religions. A small room that I think was once a bathroom. It is divided into two halves — women and men.

I finally take off my sneakers and head to the corner where there is only one chair.

It looks like I walked into someone’s room.

A rack of hangers full of clothes — robes, saris, dresses — I don’t know exactly what they are, I’m ashamed to look at them closely.

And a closet with shelves, where mats of different colors and sizes are placed plus other things that I don’t dare to look at even though I’m alone in this half of the room dedicated to women. Behind the darkened curtains someone is saying a prayer in a language I don’t understand yet I can feel (I hope they say one for me too).

I don’t really know what to do. I feel awkward.

I place my things on the chair, choose a gray rug, place it on the floor and also I place myself on it in a meditative position.

I don’t know if I should close the door here and not let you look at me. But I think you could hear as the man heard me with his prayer. Or you can choose to exit, to stop reading here. I won’t judge.

There are many things I choose to keep to myself. Out of respect, out of shame, out of the desire not to seem completely helpless at times.

But today, in that prayer room for all religions, in Singapore’s Changi Airport, the happy being who floated and danced in the streets of Ubud the other day, was torn to pieces by grief.

I cried the other days at the Ananda Mandala meditations.

But now something darker has risen to the surface. Something that was following me on a daily basis. It’s just that I was firmly anchored in my island of happiness and I was pushing it away.

A meeting with fear

A sob of despair fills me up.

Fear laughs in my face. It caught me out of my happy place. This is where I lose my balance more easily. I look for my strength on the floor covered with a soft carpet. I anchor my semi-numb hands and end up praying to all the gods of every religion that is welcome there…

Give me strength.

I don’t know how I got through this month on my own. Actually, I know. I wasn’t on my own, I had angels who took care of me.

But still, this day-to-day limit survival with limited money sometimes makes me limit myself, even though it’s not the first time in my life that I’ve had this financial challenge.

But today everything felt much more intense. Almost all day I made choices out of fear, knowing I was at the limit of my money. I have a Visa and a driver to pay for when I return to Denpassar, so I chose the affordable options (not necessarily the ones I wanted) in terms of what I eat/drink/do.

It is not the first time that I have to prioritize some expenses. I’ve gained resilience and I own my decisions. But today I didn’t even take them consciously, I was more on autopilot.

Fear laughs louder in my face, crying is even louder.

I let myself cry there, in that windowless room, and soothe myself.

I am safe. I am in Singapore. Alone.

Fear reacts. Exactly. You are alone in a completely foreign place. Almost no money.

I breathe between sobs. I’m having another crying session.

I am safe. I followed the truth of my heart.

I trust the Universe. I trust my heart. I trust that everything I do makes sense. Or it will have. I believe that I deserve to be paid abundantly for the vision I have in writing, for the way I outline stories, for the emotions I put here. I trust that I can find solutions. I have faith and I have patience. I trust because that’s all I have left next to gratitude.

I abandon myself to this belief.

I free myself from the role of victim, from expectations, from projections. I repeat this to myself once more.

I free myself, once again, from attachment to stories, to material things, to people, to ideas.

I forgive myself and release myself from fear. I choose to live out of love, from the Singapore airport as well.

I am safe. I begin to collect the pieces of me scattered on the gray carpet, between sobs. I breathe easier.

Sometimes I need to let myself be crushed from the root, in order to rebuild myself in place. Maybe this time, the root will be stronger. If not, I’ll try harder next time.

Until, no matter where I am in the world, fear will no longer have this power over me.

With puffy eyes from crying, a female traveler floats among other travelers at Singapore’s Changi Airport, looking for the butterflies from earlier.

Attraversiamo together towards Ananda through fear, among the butterflies,

S.

Letters between Singapore and Bali

08.12.2022

Sweet notes:

First part of the feelings (more soft and sweet) I had in the Changi airport:

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