In Times Of Distress Let S Learn How To Destress

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The year is but a few weeks old; however the stories sound very familiar – crumbling institutions and infrastructure, menacing comedy and farce at the highest levels, and incompetence and greed in places where we can least afford them.
In other words, nothing much has changed.
Everything points to 2022 being as stressful as any recent year. The need to destress has become even more urgent. Here then is “How to Destress Part 1”, in my occasional, unscheduled and irregular service to mankind. You can thank me later.
Here’s what I do.
I stroke my cats, taking care not to get bitten by them. One of them, a much loved 13-year-old bundle of fur and fat, has sent me to the hospital emergency room twice. I’m still waiting for an apology from her. Coming any year soon, I think. I’ll update you when that happens.
We lost the other recently, a 10-year-old tom. A sad time for our family, but we had given him a good life, and he gave us much happiness, which is comforting and helps to balance the stress and sadness.
We now have a rescue kitten, literally picked up off the tarmac on the Federal Highway, with fleas, worms, broken feet and all, who seems to be powered by a nuclear reactor that never needs topping up. It hasn’t sent me to the emergency room yet, but there’s still hope.
I watch YouTube videos, of this Japanese teen girl banging the hell out of drums, doing covers of some of the world’s best songs from Led Zeppelin to Dua Lipa, often better than the originals. And I wave back to her at the end.
Over the Hari Raya period, I watch old P Ramlee movies on video. I notice how lame the movies now look – no, I don’t believe everything was better in the old days – yet how beautiful the songs remain.
I listen to my favourite band, one I’ve been listening to for almost 50 years. This applies to a few other bands and singers too, confirming my belief that the best songs are all from the ’60s and ’70s.
I talk to my trees, occasionally using harsh language when they need some tough love (and while nobody is watching). Some of the trees die through no fault of my own (I assume so, although forensics may prove otherwise) and I get to start all over again.
I pull out weeds, easier done after heavy rains, which also encourage their growth. The occasional thorny thistle will cut my hand, but I’ve a mini pharmacy at home, am up-to-date with my tetanus shots and have my doctor on speed-dial.
I get into the zone with sanding out the rust on my old cars, supposedly my “classic car restoration” projects. I then neglect them for weeks, months or even years, while they rot, and then I start all over again. Everybody wins.
I may buy another junk to replace the bad parts on the original junk but it turns out they all have the same problems in the same parts, which means the junk is really just junk. Stress!
I blissfully ignore important stuff that I need to do, and hence keep the sheer stress and terror to the small bit right near the end. Then I’ll swear never to do it again, but after a while… hey, why stress yourself with all these promises?
I slump on my sofa and watch BBC Natural History repeats for the umpteenth time. Similarly with documentaries on travel, car repairs, the science about how the universe started etc.
I now have a back problem for which a spine surgery was required recently. Probably because of too much slumping, or maybe too much sanding. Could be a stress fracture! Ahh, the irony.
But at least that confirmed that I do have a spine, something that some of my enemies and many of my friends seemed to doubt. I’m happy with that news, even if that rules me out of national politics.
I rewatch old comedies on YouTube, some of which still make me laugh until I cry, even though I know every word of the skits.
I take long drives: a day trip to Penang for a nice makan, maybe one to Kuantan for a nice makan, or another to Melaka for, yes, a nice makan. The longer the drive, the cheaper the makan, so everybody wins, again!
I go with old trusted friends to travel all over the world. I write them big cheques (this part can be stressful) and then sit back and savour the amazing places, landscapes, cultures and friendships that follow.
I gather the fallen leaves from my trees and burn them (sometimes the trees too). The smell of the burning leaves feels clean and natural and is very evocative of my kampung childhood.
After a few minutes, I’ll feel guilty about adding more carbon to the atmosphere, stop the burning and go watch Greta Thunberg on YouTube scold us over climate change.
Or I’ll gather the fallen leaves (and steal the occasional plastic bags of grass cuttings by the roadside) and compost them.
Once I forgot about the compost heap, and maggots grew to the size of my fingers: I found a cobra happily feasting. A short battle ensued. I won. That created some stress that the relatives of said cobra might bear grudges. But they’re never as dangerous as the snakes in the office anyway. In fact, the cobras around my house are probably warning each other to watch out for that murderous big old snake – me!
I go fishing. Sometimes the long wait and the discomfort is stressful too, but fishing stress is better than other kinds of stress any time. Fishing is truly a great f word, as is friendship, and these go together very well.
Or I’ll climb (smallish) mountains. The volcanoes in Java are especially beautiful to climb. I’m often twice as old as my fellow climbers and always finish last, but they cheer me on with the f word: no, it’s neither “fishing” nor “friendship”.
I meet old friends over sherbet and rosewater and review the state of the world, analysing and blaming, and proposing solutions for everything that’s wrong, such as our underperforming national ( football, badminton, hockey etc) teams, or over something trivial such as the nincompoops pretending to run our country.
The next day we’d realise nobody had taken notes of the previous night’s proceedings, and we would get a big headache: it means we’d have to do it all over again. Lockdowns aside, we do.
I reminisce about old days and bore people to tears, especially talking about matters I know they can’t Google to find out that I may have either mixed things up or have totally invented them.
I talk to young people. While I can’t beat them at Googling (and I’m careful to stick to mostly unGoogleable points), I’ve a store of knowledge not available on the internet, earned through years of living dangerously, or mostly just surviving: that teaches you a lot too.
I don’t back down on certain things; with age, many of them don’t stress me much any more. I bring down any dissonance or misgivings, and hence stress, to a manageable level, usually by meeting friends over sherbet and rosewater.
As another song from the old era says: “No Retreat, Baby No Surrender.”
I really must stress – don’t stress yourself. Look at what’s stressing you and laugh at them in the face – unless they are your spouse or boss. - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.

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