How I learnt to still my mind and listen deeply

Decades of being a journalist trained me to fact-check people's stories and spot loopholes. In this new phase of life, I am relearning how to listen better.

- Chua Mui Hoong

For an hour or so each week, I suspend my analytical mind and turn off my mental alarm clock. During the drive to the nursing home, I reset my body from active vigilance to calm acceptance.

As I walk up to the foyer and key in the code to the secure gate, I transit from the world outside, to the world within, in more ways than one.

I walk through the corridors with a smile. I am at this nursing home as a volunteer, visiting the old woman assigned to me for regular visits. For an hour or so, I sit with her, hold her hand, talk to her. Some days, I look for YouTube videos of old Cantonese songs to watch together. Other times, I show her pictures from my travels or videos of my dog playing at the dog park, which often brings a smile to her face.

From her armchair by the window, Helen (not her real name) can look out to the ward and observe the bustle as the staff go about their daily duties. In this high-functioning nursing home, there is always something going on: the residents' regime of nursing needs or physiotherapy sessions; daily roster of activities like mahjong and craft; and regular religious or community celebrations.

The staff are cheerful and friendly. During Halloween, the physiotherapist and cleaning lady came dressed in festive gear, with Gothic make-up red-streaking down their faces. One day, the care aide checked in and addressed Helen fondly as Auntie. She turned to me and said: "Auntie loves hugs. After her shower, I give her a hug and say wo ai ni (I love you)." She beamed. She is from the Philippines and has learnt a few Mandarin phrases to communicate with her Mandarin-speaking patients.

Every time I visit, I feel a spurt of anxiety as I walk through the gateway to the home. What if I can't find something to engage Helen in? In theory, I know silences and pauses are fine. I tell myself being present is enough, I need not be stimulating.