What Han Sung-ok death has meant to me

The exact date of Han Sung-ok’s and hersix-year old son death is unknown, but the sad reality is that their bodies lay in their apartment for over two months and were only discovered when someone came to read the water meter. Han Sung-ok’s story appeared on my BBC News app this morning and has really had an impact on my thought process moving me to write this blog post. I read the news almost every morning, and as I am sure you are all aware there is a lot of not so positive news out there – the Amazon Rainforest fires is concerning for all of us who care about climate change and the future of our planet; the news from Kashmir echoes the ongoing conflicts in many places where colonial processes continue to leave their mark; refugees fleeing their homes facing the perils of the Mediterranean ought to have us all reflect on how lucky we are to have a home unaffected by war and direct climate change; attempts to buy Greenland might be considered laughable but sadly speak to continuing processes of power and need to control resources.

Yet somehow Han Sung-ok’s story impacted me on a very personal level: it left me thinking about my blog entry from a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about avoiding the time trap and the ‘what ifs’. It also left me thinking about two of the three-word phrases that I sense are the hardest for us as humans to say out loud, “I need help” and “I feel alone”. I would encourage you to return to the entry from August 13th on reflecting on the passing of time because in the article on Han Sung-ok others asked themselves those “what if” questions, but the reality is they didn’t before and now Han Sung-ok and her son are dead. What can we all learn moving forward? People in Seoul are questioning how in a city of 10 million this could happen to a young woman who has survived escaping North Korea and travelling through China. We will never know the full details of what happened or what led to this tragedy, but what stayed with me about the article was the focus on the fact that this would never have happened in North Korea (according to people interviewed for the piece). The interviewees contended that in North Korea there is more a sense of community, and that someone would have reached out to Han Sung-ok. Yet in the ‘modern’ metropolis of 10 million people that is Seoul Han Sung-ok was totally alone. There is no point in asking “what if”, what the people of Seoul need to ask themselves is how can we move forward and learn from this. I also add that Sung-ok’s story is far from unique, I remember the story of a young women in Ireland while I was living there during my PhD who died from hyperthermia because she could not afford to pay the heating bill. She too was found in her apartment a number of days after her death. In an increasing virtually connected world, we are losing so much of the fundamental day-to-day community which one needs to feel a part of life. It is not always about being with close friends, family or a partner sometimes it is just about having a person on the bus smile at you, it is about the banter with a shop keeper, it is ultimately about being seen and having your existence acknowledged.

The second more personal reason that Han Sung-ok’s story resonated with me is that these two phrases have at times in my life, been such a struggle for me. These two three-word phrases with such basic grammatical structures are two of the hardest phrases I have had to utter so far in my own life. I have no idea what Han Sung-ok was going through or what her motivation was for not reaching out to people she knew or authorities in Seoul, but I can relate (if she felt this way) to how hard it can be to ask for help. There is of course no gender element to needing help, as humans we all do, but I speak to it from my own experience as a woman and how I was brought up. Vulnerability, I perceived growing up, was a weakness and emotions associated with needing support should be kept close to your chest. Survival was based on pushing vulnerability and emotional needs to one side and just “getting on with it”. If there was a problem then there was always a practical solution that could be found. In doing all of this I lost touch with my body (my gut feelings so to speak) and so much was intellectualized and through this process ‘solved’. What this led to was an inability to admit a need for emotional support, even from myself.

I don’t want this post to be seen as somehow about me because I have embraced my emotional body’s needs and love her with every breath. I do want to use it to highlight what finally uttering those two ‘simple’ phrases has meant in my life. I am thinking of the support I have received from family and close friends when I ask for emotional help. I know how wonderful it feels when those close to me feel they can share with me their emotional vulnerability. I appreciate the sense of never being ‘alone’ even as I live alone and spend a lot of time in my own company. Alone time is so important to each of us as people, it is during this time that we grow and replenish our souls, but it is also important that we do not feel a sense of somehow being alone in the world. It is important to also acknowledge that we can feel this deep dread and sense of being ‘alone’ even when surrounded by people, and this comes from our own lack of ability to reach out.

What would I like you to take from my stream of consciousness arising from Han Sung-ok’s death? Two things: firstly, the simple act of really seeing other people around you – saying hello with a smile on your face. Some on the bus might think you are weird for smiling or saying hello, but you might make another person’s day because you really ‘saw’ them. Think of how you feel when someone sees you, says hello to you, catches your eye on the street and smiles – it makes such a difference. Secondly, please do make my mistake – reach out, ask for help, practice saying the words out loud in front of the mirror first if you need to, but please ask. If there is someone in your life right now who you know is struggling, know that you cannot ‘fix’ them or compel them to accept your help. What you can do is let them know you are there, send them a smile emoji (I know a virtual connection but so many people I love are physically very far away), have empathy for their journey, and most of all teach them self-love through loving yourself.      

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Sitting in the window - reflections on the passing of time

Time is a concept that is central to my discipline of Geography and of course also other social sciences and natural sciences, but it is a concept that I think as humans we find incredibly difficult to grasp. We set our alarms, we celebrate birthdays, we talk about how long we’ve known each other, we make a monthly/yearly/5-year plan, we use a deluge of language associated with time (we even have a ‘science’ Horology of measuring time), but ultimately time passes and we have absolutely no control over this phenomenon. This fact has shaped us for centuries as some try and instill a legacy that will outlive them. Some have explored controlling time through writing and film and the idea of eternity or time travel. Yet still time outwits us as it keeps on moving.

The ultimate freedom is acknowledging that fearing or trying to control the passage of time is fruitless. There is of course great pleasure in time as we see a goal accomplished that we have persevered with, as we watch children flourish, as we get into bed at night knowing there are eight blissful hours of sleep ahead. The ultimate freedom then is to realize that life happens in a moment and that moment is now – the present, not tomorrow and certainly not holding onto some distant memory of how things were.

As I sit in my favourite UBC coffee-shop window enjoying my coffee and oatmeal post-swim, I am struck by how little seemed to have changed in my immediate surrounding despite the fact I have not sat here for over five weeks. Two specific occurrences strike me as I sit in the sunshine admiring the view – the first is the tragedy unfolding in Malaysia around the teenager Nora and the second is my own recent travels and return to Vancouver. I won’t go into detail of Nora’s story as I am sure many of you will have been following it, but as I swam this morning I cried thinking of her parents and the thoughts and pain they must be going through – What if? If only we had? Why us? I cannot imagine what they are going through, but for me it triggered the concept of time and how so often we focus on what if I had done this or not done that would then result have been different? And unfortunately, that is the bitter truth of life, we just cannot ever answer the ‘what if’ and accepting that is a huge beginning in the healing process of pain.

I mentioned my own recent trip and return to Vancouver just over a week ago as also making me focus on the concept of time. In reflecting more on my journey and emotions on returning, I am overcome with the realization that I was culpable of trying to manipulate time through my physical journey. I want you all to comprehend, especially those of you with whom I spent such an incredible time, that this does not negate my trip rather I am trying to see it as healing that I can now acknowledge some of its purpose which simply could never be possible. In travelling to see so many people and places with whom and where I have spent so much time, I was in a sense both trying to change the past but ultimately I realize let it go, and this second part is healthy and important. If you have been following since I began writing my blog again in February you will know that life has not always been kind over the past eight years since my accident, resulting concussion then followed by facing true grief and various logistical dilemmas. These realities are just that realities of life, and were essentially not the true pain; rather the pain stems from the acute resulting fear it awoke in me. Fear was not born of this time period as it existed in me already, rather my focus on trying to control time and obsession on both ‘what if’, ‘if only’ and grasping at a future I thought I could predict - consumed me. As I sat with wonderful friends and family, and wandered through familiar streets and places last month, I was looking for some kind of validation that I was forgiven and that time would somehow be kind to me again. It is a thought-provoking return to the blog post I wrote in Heathrow airport as I began my physical trip at the start of July and how in that post I focused on travelling not necessarily as only physical, but also as spiritual and emotional – in a conversation with someone a few days ago we talked about the multidimensionality of time in terms of how it lives in memories which are therefore triggered when we find ourselves in familiar places or with people we have not seen in some time. For brief moments in my physical journey in July and for a lot of the past week back in Vancouver, I neglected the most important lesson that life has taught me in recent times, that there is only ‘right now’ and that only I am responsible for how I choose to approach and use right now. Sometimes ‘right now’ is painful and sometimes it is wonderful, but mostly it just is how we choose to be in the world and hope that it is always the best possible version of ourselves. To me this best possible version of ourselves stems from embodying empathy and acknowledging that every single person around us struggles with the same realities of daily moments and the ultimate passing of time.   

Consequently, trying to control or manipulate time is futile. All that we can do with time is be in it, but also absorb lessons from its passing. The greatest tragedy we face as humans is that is spend too much focusing on ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ as well as this notion that ‘tomorrow will be better’. For centuries we have continued to repeat the same mistakes because we do not learn from the passing of time but continue to try to control it. Do not fear the passing of time rather embrace it, but ultimately see it as the process that it is, be open to the lessons that it teaches us and bare its scars not as painful reminders but as gentle souvenirs that you survived and will continue to grow. Jo used to say to me “Siobh don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders”, I now think I truly understand what she was trying to say to me and maybe even to herself, that what is done is done but the present is here and full of possibilities. I played Scrooge once in my Tunisian American high school’s production of a Christmas carol, and I am struck in this moment of understanding the shackles that carrying the weight of time’s baggage can have. My dad often says “life is not easy, but it is always worthwhile”, and I agree but would add it is only worthwhile if we learn from the process of the passing of time.              

I was walking on Kits beach in Vancouver on Friday and was struck by the beauty of this plant growing out of a cement brick - to me it embodies both the power of nature and hope for change today not tomorrow

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Departing Dublin homeward bound

My physical journey is coming to a close as I write this once again at Heathrow airport, now waiting for my return flight home to Vancouver. It has been the most remarkable month where I am finding it difficult to assemble all my thoughts in order to process them into words here on my blog. I have embraced every moment of the past month cherishing all the experiences I have had and shared with others. I return home now eager for the physical space of my home and my routine, but with the knowledge that the effects of the past month will continue to reverberate within me for a long time to come.

But first, what of my week in Dublin…

I would encourage you to return briefly to my posts from May 2013 and January 2008 where I reflect on my relationship with Ireland and with Dublin in particular. Dublin has held so many important life moments for me over the years, Dara and I lived there together as adults, I completed secondary school there, I did my first Masters at Trinity, I rediscovered swimming, I rose in love, and I survived the bicycle accident which has shaped so much since. The energy of the city does and will continue to flow within my eternal energy wherever I go. But my relationship with Dublin has shifted somehow. I sensed the beginnings of the transition this past December, and being in the same physical space this past week was an interesting experienced as I acknowledge the true depth of the process. Dublin will forever be a part of my soul but it is no longer my home. I held on for so many years to the threads of memories of my life there as I struggled through a difficult period, but as those binds loosen so too have the restraints of not being able to be fully in the present.

My trip to Dublin this time was about people, as a lot of the past month has been. The main focus was spending time with my absolutely exquisite niece and her wonderful parents. To witness Dara being such a phenomenal mother makes me heart sing, and the only regret is that Jo isn’t physically here to witness the beauty of it. To share the daily moments that Quinn has with her parents and to be a part of them for a brief moment was truly gratifying. The many friends I have made in Ireland continue to be like an extended family to me, and I am so truly blessed to sit across a table from them all, share a glass of wine, a meal or a coffee and pick up our conversation as if there did exist a physical distance between us. Of course, there is also the comfort of family in Ireland and its familiarity which has been a part of my life for decades. Especially my aunt Kay whose generous heart has brought such comfort in difficult times over the past four and a half years.

The best way to present Dublin this past week is through my favourite moments:

-       Just being with my niece Quinn – cooking her sausages, chatting with her, going to Dublin Zoo with her, being enthralled by her curiosity and aptitude for life.

-       Laughing so freely with Dara and Tarek over ridiculous things

-       Sharing dinner with Dara, Caitriona and Gillian all together in the same space for the first times in years. Hearing them talk about their three little girls and feeling so appreciative that I am a part of all their lives even from a distance.

-       Sitting in KC Peaches on Stephen’s Green with Caitriona and Gillian just smiling because we were there together

-       Sleeping in the same bed I slept in at Christmas time feeling the lightness that the past eight months have continued to nurture

-       Eating black pudding for seven days straight – I had to leave before my arteries became clogged with butter and fat!  

-       Taking Tarek to see Roddy Doyle’s “The Snapper”

-       Enjoying dinner and drinks with Alyson, Jo and Ruanne and chatting for hours

-       Dinner at Kay’s house with family and seeing lots of other family over the course of the week

-       A Saturday night on the town with my birthday twin Frances and witnessing the immenseness of her energy and knowing her present is wonderfully positive

-       Feeling a bounce in my step as I scoured the familiar streets of Dublin City Centre

I am homeward bound dear blog reader. My posts may be fewer in number, at least for the immediate future, but I promise I will continue to write. I will write about life’s wonderful present because the sweetness of today is known while tomorrow is an unknown and outside of my control. 

The customary coffee and Butlers chocolate when departing Dublin

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