Coming of age

Energy. It waxes and wanes, pulls you this way and that, keeps you going, or stops you in your tracks.

The pace seems to be picking up even within the cloistered halls of this monastery. Experiences and events that sweep through your world like a rushing wind so fast and so furious I can barely keep up, let alone pen them all down on paper. Even before the dust has time to settle, I pick up another collectable to stow away in my treasure chest of moments and memorables.

Two movies that touch on the same topic of religion and spirituality, yet treated in such stark and contrasting ways: Philip Groning's Into Great Silence and Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady's Jesus Camp. Both equally painful to watch, but for very different reasons.

Sans camera crew, artificial lighting, music and commentary, Groning's documentary film on the Grande Chartreuse - the most austere and ascetic of monasteries hidden in the French Alps - is in itself a meditation and an exercise in the discipline of silence and solitude. Jesus Camp however, contains the familiar brushstrokes of the director's cut and hand, yet it is laced with enough truth to make you writhe, blush, cringe and agitate in your seat.

These are probably the least complex of memories to archive. Others remain much more elusive. The 'aha' moments that grip me in the middle of a song, as I rinse the suds from fragile bowls and plates, comb the tangles out of the my hair, cruise down long stretches of road in the twilight, rub shoulders with giants and trip over dwarves, pound the rubber concrete, cook up a storm, make coffee, pat the neighbour's cat.

The spare minutes, hours, and days thus become like a giant chessboard. Which piece shall I pick up? What move shall I make? Where will it take me? In circles? Victory? Defeat? Checkmate?

I look back at all 25 years of me and can't help but think about how most of us stumble our way into adulthood. The stumbling it seems, has everything to do with our growing up. Many errors, regrets and embarrassments later, I suddenly realise that the world is no longer at my feet. Like a bitter piece of chalk in my mouth, I develop a new taste for His mercy and grace.

I held a sizeable quarter-of-a-century remembrance in February this year. What I didn't count on was how different this year was going to be. It seems, or perhaps the better phrase would be, 'I feel' - I feel poised, to take a very different route from what I had originally set out on.

Like some sort of coming into being, coming into my own to find my own person, and to find a new way of relating to others, some with more reserve, and others with more openness, affection and vulnerability. Many curious acquaintance and friendships have been forged out of the most unlikely circumstances, and I'm loving it for the life of me. I've also been gripped by moments of nostalgia, thinking about figures and faces that are now but shadows in my memories. Where have all my primary, secondary and college mates gone? Who have we all variously and variedly grown up to become?

God knows what lies ahead.

I ramble and indulge. But perhaps this reflects exactly where I am. So many parts of my uncollected life now demanding my attention. And I wish I could build on all of them. My journalistic work, friendships and relationships, hobbies and interests, the spiritual life.

I have only so many mintues, hours and days.