You might have seen the photo by now. I got dressed up for Halloween this year. I never do, but I figured it never hurts to inject some fun into the occasion that is the team all hands. A lot of you liked it (thanks!). Many of you who've known me for years thought Weird Barbie was a pretty good extension of myself as a person, as far as costumes go. Maybe that's why I felt so comfortable in it all day (and all night—yes I stayed out late on a school night, and still got up for a 5am launch the next day), with the crazy wig and all.
Later that night, my mom texted me chuckling about the costume, reminding me that this Halloween marked 30 years (!) since we moved from Seoul to Vancouver. We arrived late afternoon in Vancouver on October 30, 1993, and I soon learned that the next day in this new country I'll be calling home, something called Halloween was going on. I picked up on all of the basics one needs to know about Halloween—you dress up and go knock on people's doors and say "trick or treat," take candy, and say "thank you"—cobbled together a costume for my then 6-year-old brother, and we went out. I hardly knew other words or phrases in English, and for whatever reason, the festivities and strangeness of Halloween masked any fear of the unknown I may have had in the back of my mind. We went around our new neighborhood, collected candy and chocolate bars, and thus began my new life in Canada.
In retrospect, Halloween was a perfect way to begin my journey as the "new me" in Canada, a transformative day when the "veil" between the physical and the spiritual world is supposedly at its most fluid. I didn't know it at the time, but this was a definitively "before vs. after" moment for me. I often wonder about what compelled me to even go out and participate in the Halloween activities when I'd barely just learned my way around the neighborhood. A part of it must have been curiosity, and some part courage, and definitely some ignorance (!). But what I remember most distinctly is this urgent and exciting sense of "let's do this." This was my new home, things were happening that I didn't fully understand, but why not give it a try? There was a desire to actively participate and learn, even if that meant sometimes I didn't understand exactly what was going on and that there were moments of embarrassments, but it was better than just sitting back and watching everything pass by you.
And don't get me wrong, there are days that I, too, want to just sit out and be a pumpkin on the stoop, watching everyone else's lives and activities go by. I give myself the permission to do that once in a while, but with the intention to step out again and be an active participant of my life at work and home. Sometimes the motivation or inspiration might lag, and that's when everyday "costumes" come in handy—like reframing in your mind a meeting you dread into an opportunity to arrive at a clearer decision, or dressing up to make yourself feel better, which might do the trick to lift your mood.
I'm not telling you to put on a false mask or identity to show up as someone you're not. for the sake of other people. I'm simply acknowledging that all of us wear different aspects of our personalities and mood and the context of work to home, and vice versa. How could we not? The "veil" between these worlds are thinner than we desire them to be, as we've all learned through the pandemic. But we also don't need a momentous, annual ritual like Halloween to be the best, or the next version of ourselves (and your best today could be 25%, 80% or 110%). We all have a choice to be intentional about the commitments we made to ourselves, and to those around us who are counting on us. I truly believe our actions and habits are what become of the work we do and the lives we end up living. Tomorrow is a new day, things might be going on that we may not fully understand (yet), but why not give it a try?