It was going to be the inaugural Medium post. But I wasn’t sure if it was clickbaity enough or if it would end up being a listicle of things I had learnt in my 40’s.

Perhaps it would end up as a private journal entry somewhere the sun don’t shine. Where my reflective thoughts would remain private, unfettered from the need to please and rife with grammatical errors.

Clearly I opted to pen my thoughts on turning 49 on this not oft updated blog of mine. Ironic of course that it is called Huat’s Next. Denoting President (fictional of course) Bartlet’s penchant for calling out “What’s next” when he was ready for the next order of business. For the record, I listen to the WestWing Podcast way too often. I should be learning about other things in life like growth mindsets and neuroplasticity.

Two days past my 49th birthday (50, if you count with the Chinese calendar as my friend, Alan would say) and I’m still here. The timeline I most often refer to. Is marked by milestones on their journey. I am notoriously forgetful and huge chunks of memory have been lost to the abyss. The parts that I remember are, as I’m sure for most people, linked to significant parts of our lives. The moment I fell in that toilet when I was an army recruit, the moment I ran when Joseph Chean came looking who was making the ruckus, smoking out side the office looking through call sheets, helping to lift a huge rock from the scene on my first shoot, finding out I had stage 4 cancer, cutting the umbilical cord off when Jerome was born and getting on my knees in our Joo Chiat house to propose.

I think I’ve had a pretty storied life. While it’s hard to not compare to others, the life of a film production person becomes so interesting in where we go and what we experience that real life sometimes becomes a little bland; The adrenaline, camaraderie, intense moments of high and low points and smoke filled nights might seem romantic to young aspiring artists. And in many ways, it is.

Cancer came to spoilt it all. Taking away my future. But did it really? Did it come at just the right time to save my life? To reset my life and allow me, give me permission to be who I really am?

I was diagnosed at 44 and at 49, I’ve just past the 5 year mark. Without going into the specifics, it’s the 5 year mark that we were working towards. Surpassing it means that I have a slightly higher chance of living a longer life. And yet, I am reminded starkly of the ones who have gone before me. Brenda, Chan, Warren, Jaime, Rong, my father. They didn’t have a chance to continue their journey on this earth and had to move on to the next existence, while I am still here. Why? For what purpose?

It is said that the purpose of life IS to find one’s purpose and once you find it, to give it away. That is the point of it all. To give it away. What do have to give? Who do I give it to?

Firstly, to Jo, Jacob and Jerome. And yet, I am so inadequate as I am to learn in the last few years. They’ve taught me so much about how lacking I am. And how much more I am to grow.

The next 365 & 3/4 days should be marked by just that. Growth. Learning humbly. Being a student with insatiable curiosity. And applying it. Writing about it. Giving it away. Teaching it. Doing it. Mastering it. And learning the next step all over again. This way of working on myself leads me to give of a better version of myself to my kids. So they inherit and learn not from a scraggly, old, pessimistic, fixed mindset, passive aggressive, angry, unfit, emotionally unregulated guy. But from someone worthy enough to pass over what it takes to be a growing, consciously happy, kind, intentionally motivated person ready to flow with whatever life throws at them. To work myself and work on myself so that they can see and realise that is how it can be.

In three generations, we will be gone and forgotten. Legacy counts for nothing. It is in the moment that counts. Here and now. Sometimes, swept up in the euphoria of productivity and getting things done, we miss the wind blowing now. The raindrops happening right outside the window this moment. The stillness or beautiful chaos occurring. The smell of fresh coffee (not many roses by the wayside these days) alongside the lovingly crafted coffee art.

Now here. 49 and counting.