Categories
Reflection

Summer Blog Episode 3 – My Table In My Primary School

My memory of my primary school life has been fuzzy.  Of the few fragments that I remember, there were those wooden tables that we used at school, unlike perhaps the fine furniture students use today.  The surface though smooth, was uneven.  You could trace the texture of the wood and you could see the little holes of various sizes scattered over the tabletop.  If you had a wide imagination like I did, you would picture the surface of the table as the terrain of an unknown planet.  You could even draw a map and name the craters.

In my primary school days, we used pencils and rubbers often.  Instead of brushing the residue of the rubber onto the floor like I suppose every student did, I had developed this craze to bury it into the little craters on the tabletop.  I would press the residue hard using the end of a pencil or my bare fingers.  Soon, I was busy producing residue for the sake of filling up the holes.  It took a long time to fill up all the holes, large and small.  When I was done with the job, I would start to dig out the residue from one random crater and fill it up with fresh residue.  And the job never ended.

Unfortunately, there is no morale to this story.  I think I should have studied to become a dentist instead.

Categories
Linguistic My Hobbies Reflection

“When I Was 18” – A Spanish Homework

“When I Was 18” – that was the topic of our Spanish homework.  In fact, our teacher Natalia left the age to be open.  It could well be when I was 16, when I was 24, when I was 30, when I was … OK, let’s stop here.  I mean, when I was 16, my life was not that exciting.  Maybe observing the gorgeous girls going in and out of the nightclub at the ground floor of my apartment in Hong Kong was one of the highlights of my being 16.  What about that romantic relationship with a girl a couple of years younger than me?  OK, that – was complicated.  Really complicated.

18 was – looking back – the turning point of my life.  One of those moments that was tantamount to a multi-facet metamorphosis – physically, mentally, and spiritually.  5,995 miles away from home, I was studying in UK.  The age of experimentation, the age of inquisition, and the age of doing just the opposite for the sake of because-I-can.  Sometimes in a good way, sometimes not.  To experience at all cost.  When you are that young, I guess empathy may not be high in your list.  Neither is self-preservation.  It is a time of having to face the consequences and to bear the scars, a time of learning and moving on.

When I was 18, I was used to walk afar, alone or with my friends.  We would walk miles to another town, to visit the pubs, get chased by the dogs.  A few years later, in another city of the same country, I would walk miles to visit Toy “R” Us, to check out the latest console game titles.  I would spend hours walking, in the cold or in the rain, day or night.  We would climb a crane and stand high up above the ground in order to embrace the chilly wind, feel the thrill down our spines.  One evening, my friends and I ventured into a privately owned woodland.  Occasionally we found shotgun shells on the ground, under a bright moonlight.  Flying creatures would suddenly pop out of nowhere and got us scared.  Or did we scare them with our trespass?  When you are that young, you do not think.  You act with your heart.  At the end of our night trekking, we would see a peaceful lake with swans.  Flying ducks would make a gentle landing onto the surface creating beautiful lines on the otherwise serene pliable gigantic mirror.  In the middle of the lake, there was a castle decorated with modern interior.  How nice if I could live in such a surreal surrounding.  Looking back, I sincerely cannot recall how many times I have visited that lake.  I think about those moments from time to time; I dream about those moments from time to time.  When hallucination mixes with memory and dream, what is real, what is created by my mind consciously and subconsciously?

When I was 18, I seldom slept at night.  My friends would drop by my room to chat, to listen to music, to do homework together, or to play guitar.  My English friends would teach me the culture of tea drinking, the English way.  I would teach them my culture of having toasted bread with butter and sugar.  They were surprised when I sprinkled sugar on top of my buttered toast.  I was surprised when some preferred to drink English tea with only milk and no sugar.  I suppose when you are young, you are eager to try almost anything.  And we would chat the entire night.  Do you remember the days when you and your friends suddenly have this revelation that the world is so screwed up by the grown-ups?  That we have millions and one ways to make this world a better place?  Do you remember the days when you and your friends started to question the core of our existence?  The future of our existence if there is one; the doom of our existence if there are none?  Questions, questions, and questions.  And we debated.  The entire night.

That spirit of being 18, that spirit of endless adventure and no topic is a taboo.  That carelessness, that care free attitude of life.  Young is the one that plunges in the future and never looks back – so said Milan Kundera.

Now, I wish I could write that in Spanish.  The result of my homework is a lot simplified.  I am going to post it here because first it takes great effort to compose anything in Spanish and I may as well post it here for my personal future reference.  And second, it is rare that I could get someone to correct my Spanish writing (thanks Natalia!) so here we go.

Cuando tenía 18 años, era un joven estudiaba que en Inglaterra.  Me gustaba caminar largas distancias, gran altura.  Mis amigos y yo caminábamos por el bosque bajo la luz de la luna.  O entrábamos a otra ciudad a pie.  Cuando veíamos una grúa, la subíamos.  Era peligroso.  Pero era joven, sin pensar mucho.

Cuando tenía 18 años, era un hombre tranquilo.  Me gustaba escuchar música clásica o melodía de ayer todo el tiempo.  Visitaba a menudo la habitación de mi amigo y escuchábamos la música pop.  Otra amigo me introdujo la música rock.  Y tocábamos las guitarras en la noche.

Cuando tenía 18 años, mis amigos y yo hablábamos durante toda la noche.  Hablábamos sobre chicas, sobre extraterrestres y ballenas, sobre política y los problemas de mundo.  Los problemas que pensábamos que podíamos resolver.  ¡Qué ingenuos éramos!

Cuando tenía 18 años, veía la vida como una aventura.  Ahora la veo como la rutina diaria.  Prefiero quedarme en donde estoy.

Categories
Reflection

Alcohol And I – A Story Of Our 2 Years Of Separation, Thus Far

Last weekend, I have quietly celebrated the 2-year anniversary of not having a single drop of alcohol in my blood stream.  I even faked drinking that glass of champagne on stage, during my friend’s wedding when I was the emcee and my sister’s wedding in Hong Kong and in Singapore.  Of the many questions I have received over these two years, the best one came from a young lady I met in the True Blood HBO blogger event: How do you function without alcohol?!  Since then, I have heard various versions of the same question.  It never fails to bring laughter onto the table.

How do I function without alcohol?

Looking back, I often wonder how did I function with alcohol.  Of course, those who know me in person would ask: Why this decision?  You could say that I have waited two years to publish this story.  Every now and then I think of how this should be written.  Obviously, it is a very personal matter.  And since I have decided to share my experience in the light that may empower others to live an alcohol free life, I have to wait until my approach is proven to work – at least for me – in order for my story to be credible.  To set the expectation right, this is a story of constructive sharing, and not a public confession.

At least that is my intend.

*     *     *     *     *

I can’t say that I enjoy drinking alcohol even though I have consumed drinks with an alcohol content ranging from a single digit up to 40%.  I have tasted what goes beyond 40% too.  Like that stuff the Greek drinks.  I can tell which alcohol label tastes better than others of a similar category.  My first significant encounter with alcohol was when I was 18, in UK, intoxicated by that one tall can of Carlsberg Special Brew.  My first encounter with a religion that bans alcohol was also 18, in the same school.  Prior to that, I have never heard that alcohol is not acceptable, religiously speaking.

Is alcohol bad?

Combing through what I have observed in my adult life thus far, it appears to me that we conjure more reasons to consume alcohol than not to – with the exception of those whose their religion has forbidden them to consume alcohol.  Drinking wine with your meal is good for health.  Drinking Vodka keeps you warm in the winter.  To celebrate, we open champagnes.  You join a party in a pub wanting to socialize with your friends and what do you end up ordering?  Sure it has to be a beer or a glass of wine or some hard liquor.  Someone is going to pressurize you to do so.  Someone is going to challenge you to drink more.  It is as though not able to hold one’s alcohol is an undesirable attribute, one to be laughed at.  Com’on!  You can do it!  Just one more drink!

*     *     *     *     *

I do not detest alcohol, certainly not those who consume it.  To drink or not to drink, is a lifestyle choice.  Some battle with alcoholism for years only to see their lives slowly destroyed by the rounds of relapses.  Some able to drink alcohol as and when they wish to, stop as and when they wish to.  As for me, I am old enough to come to the conclusion that I am not so good at moderation.  When I observed that my list of reasons for consuming alcohol seemed to have expanded each passing day, that was one of the signs to quit, for good.

The list would look something like this.

  • When I was having a good meal, I was used to open a bottle of wine – be it at home or in a restaurant.  But what is a good meal?  How about an OK meal?  Surely an OK glass of wine wouldn’t kill an OK meal?  Or vice versa?
  • When I was having good companions, a beer or two seemed like a good thing to kick start the mood.  Later on, on the days when I was not having any companions, while waiting for someone, I enjoyed reading a book or a magazine with a mug of cold beer in a warm day like every other day in Singapore.  Did I drink to kill time?  Or was I finding time just to drink?
  • When I was having a bad day, alcohol seemed to help.  When I was having a happy day, alcohol also seemed to help.  Later on, when I am having an OK day, alcohol again seemed to help.  Help what?  Alcohol seemed to have become a painkiller, an endorphin potion, and an multi-vitamin pill – at the same time.

*     *     *     *     *

But you know what life is like.  Anything that makes you feel good, is bad for you.  May even kill you.  Looking back on alcohol consumption, what I miss most is how it facilitates the process of art creation – be it as writing or song crafting.  Being able to tap onto my pool of chaotic, unpredictable, and unrestrained creativity is, for lack of a better word, addictive.  So, what triggered the decision of staying away from alcohol and how did I do that?

The answers to the above questions could be a lot less dramatic and inspiring than you expect, which is not necessarily a bad thing if you ponder upon it.  Problems of this world often are solved by common, non-extraordinary solutions.  I dislike some of the side effects alcohol have in me.  We are still who we are, even in a state of intoxication.  We are still responsible to the things that we do, that we say, regardless how stupid these things may sound in the morning after.

But that was not the final trigger.  Wikipedia was.  One day I was researching on why I have alcohol flush when I drink.  The result is against everything I have come to know.  It could kill me faster than those whose faces don’t turn red when they drink.  So I woke up one day and have decided to quit drinking.  I must say quiting is not easy but it is a lot easier than I thought.  Strange as it may sound, replacing alcohol with hot green tea works for me.  Hot green tea seems to have given me a similar level of high.  Similar, not the same of course.  I suspect that it is less on the drink’s content and more at the symbolic level.  At one point, I have stocked up boxes and boxes of green tea bag at home.  And that wall of green tea was my last defense towards my bottles of wine and hard liquor that are still siting motionlessly at home tempting me to open and consume.  For months, I have been drinking cups and cups of hot green tea every evening.  Now, I am still drinking hot green tea every other evening, though not as often.  These days, I am into Ginseng tea and tea made with flowers.

I am happy that the days of drinking is behind me.  Day 208 of being a teetotaler, I drew a picture.  On day 730, I write this entry.

*     *     *     *     *

If you wish to abstain from alcohol, you too need to find a personal reason that does not change by any circumstances.  And you have to find a way to replace your habitual drinking routine.  I still remember half a year into this voluntary abstinence of alcohol, I joined my friend for a drink in an Irish pub and I ordered a huge mug of diet Coke.  Think of the amount of money you could saved by that one decision that you make.

Categories
Reflection

Is Liking What We Get A Resignation To Life Or The Key To Contentment?

My favorite writer Doris Lessing once wrote: We learn to like what we get.  Seven simple words so accurately describe our current state of affair, in so many different dimensions.  But yet when I shared this revelation with a friend, her immediate response was: That’s called resignation to life.  Such is the beauty of literature.  It means different things to different people.

At times I ponder, if I am to hold firm to what I believe as a baseline to my quality of life and refuse to make compromises, is this a good virtue?  Or am I being inflexible?  After all, many people around me have been putting up with what they see as their accepted daily routines, what I may see as life could have been better and does not have to be this way.

Traditional wisdom tells us that there are things we cannot change, or cost too much to change.  To that extend, I often accept what comes my way, for the time being, and at the back of my mind dream of what better life could be like.  Who knows?  Doors of opportunity may open in the future if I have some ideas on what these doors may look like in the first place.

Once again, I have to relocate to a new office location.  And I think I have good reasons to dislike this recent change.  One may observe that this is a classic case of resistance to change.  For someone who has in the span of three years reported to seven different direct bosses, relocated three times – four if you count being stuffed inside a small meeting room for months as one location – I am not that resistance to change.

Yet, a part of me wishes things to stay as they are used to be.  Another part of me is aware that what I am now having is not ideal.  Maybe that is why change is hard.  Because we learn to like what we get.

*     *     *     *     *

Given a choice, I would want to work where Cynthia works.  It saves on traveling time for I prefer to drop her off in the morning and pick her up in the evening – regardless of where our workplaces are – by car.  Time is precious.  Any added minute to the daily traveling time is, in my opinion, a waste of time.

Last year, I was relocated to a different part of town, away from the central business district.  The distance was still manageable, though not desirable.  As I settled down in my new area, I began to enjoy the surrounding environment.  The national library is nearby, eating places are not as crowded, and there are shopping malls and cinemas close to my office building.

This year, there is another relocation, somewhere far away from the central business district.  Very far indeed.

If you were to ask me today: Would you choose a job that requires you to travel to a place near to the airport every working day?  The answer is a straight no.  But I learn to like – or I think I like – what I do daily.  Besides, bonus payout will be in March, my share options will be matured in September, I am not going anywhere in the near future, am I?

Am I?

*     *     *     *     *

One morning, I drove to my new office sorting out the car park application while familiarizing myself with the area, I could not help but to admire the smooth traffic to work, the blue sky and the green field and the sound of serenity – of the fountains and of the breeze.  There were hardly anybody walking on the streets, hardly any car drove by.  One man walked pass me with a cup of coffee and I had the urge to stop him and ask where he got it from in this remote area.  And suddenly it hit me: Why do people put up with the stress of working in the central business district?  The noise, the crowd, the pollution, and more.  Why do I put up with the traffic jam on the CTE highway every day?

One afternoon, as I drove out of my home, I looked at the office buildings nearby, I could not help but ask: How about working somewhere near where I live for a change?  Maybe I should visualize that as one of my doors of opportunity.

I mean, why not?

Categories
Reflection

New Theme This Year: Be Committed And Do It NOW

Happy 2010!  How did you celebrate the New Year Eve?  Initially, Cynthia and I wanted to celebrate the countdown in a Spanish way: to eat twelve grapes, one on each chime of the clock.  Alas!  At the checkout counter of a grocery store, a few days before the New Year Eve, Cynthia asked if we should get some grapes.  I thought to myself: We have apples, we have oranges, why do we need grapes?  I said no; Cynthia did not insist; and we have no grapes.  As Gurmit Singh led the countdown broadcast through our national television channel, Cynthia, my buddy Mark, two other players, and I were locked inside a virtual dungeon ready to start our battle.  That was probably the first time I celebrated New Year Eve online.

*     *     I     *     *

Traditionally, this is a time for me to reflect upon the past year and to dream up my new year’s resolutions.  Looking at last year’s theme, by and large, I have fulfilled what I set out to do.  It is often hard to follow things through and I think I have done a pretty good job last year.  On things that I have set my heart onto.

Time, is limited.  That is a common knowledge.  I have friends who ask me if I am still into photography (after merely a few months’ of break) or I still play my music (OK, an unfortunate series of hiatuses that set my music hobby back by miles).  The reality is, if I am into learning Spanish or to re-learn Chinese, something is going to give.  Because?

Time, is limited.

*    *     II     *     *

Inspiration comes from everywhere.  We can find inspiration in the least expected places.  That too is a common knowledge.  “Superfreakonomics” is hardly a book of inspiration.  Buried inside countless set of interesting statistical interpretations are two sentences that hit me so hard.  And I said to myself, “Ah ha!  That is going to be part of my 2010 theme.”

Mastery arrives through deliberate practice.  Setting specific goal, obtaining immediate feedback, and concentrating as much on technique as on outcome.

So far, I am pretty good at setting goals.  But I have been lacking in the rest.  No wonder I am jack of all trades and master of none.

*     *     III     *     *

The only consolation is that if writing is counted as a skill I can master, I do practice my craft diligently.  And because what I write is published through the Internet, I do at times receive feedback in the forms of online comments, offline comments, text messages, Facebook messages, and etc.  So, thank you for your feedback.  It helps me a great deal in understanding what works, what doesn’t.

Ironically, for this one particular skill I am attempting to master, what I lack is a specific goal.

*     *     IV     *     *

Inspiration can come from watching F1 too!

Last year was the first time I have watched the entire F1 season, on a television.  Commentators would at times use the term “committed driver” to describe someone who all of a sudden kicks into action, putting on a personal best performance on the track.  Such fire, such determination, and such commitment.  Last year, I have tried to experiment this spirit on things that I do.  It could be a Spanish class whereby I do my best in answering every question, in memorizing everything the teacher has said – every minute, every second of the class.  Being committed is a sustained effort, from the beginning till the end.  It is not a temporary boost of performance.  But rather a sum of all the little edges I create that makes me a different, better person.

So, is this new theme all business and no play?  Not really.  I have tried that when I play the online game with a team of players too!  Often, we are locked inside a dungeon or a series of dungeons from anywhere between 15 minutes to a few hours.  It pays off being committed.  Even more so as a team.

Whenever I think of high performance, I think of my ex-company Accenture.  Whenever I think of Accenture, I think of golf and one of their old advertisements.

“Go on, be a Tiger.”

*     *     V     *     *

Are you still a vegetarian?  Why do you become a vegetarian?  And this particular question asked by my mother beats the rest: Are you switching religion again?

Yes, I am still a vegetarian.  It is a lifestyle choice.  And no, I am still a Catholic.

One day, Cynthia told me that according to her boss, once you keep eating a certain diet for a week or two – exact number of days I forgot – you will acquaint yourself with the diet and find yourself liking it.  It is true.  I have no craving for meat now and recently, after I have learned from my India vegetarian colleague that broadly speaking, it is important to consume vegetables of different colors, I have extended my food choice to salad.  There are prepackaged and triple washed organic salad of different types that  are sold in our local grocery stores.  To spice up our bowls of salad, we add mixed nuts, sunflower seeds, dried cranberry, and of course, salad dressing.  After a week or two, I am craving for that bowl of salad.  I feel hungry by thinking about it.  That is my new comfort food.

OK.  I lie a tiny bit.  There are things in life that I do miss.  Japanese raw fish is amongst the top of the list.  Today, I crave for Guilinggao jelly – a Chinese dessert made from the shell of a turtle that is supposed to have positive medical effect.  Now, you can’t possibly classify that as a meat dish.

Can you?

*     *     VI     *     *

The year before last year, my theme was “Do It“.  I really love that theme.  I think I can do it better this year.  With a better sense of urgency: “Do It NOW”.  There is only that much I can plan.  And I realize that planning to do something is not the same as doing it.  Why not cast the vagueness of timeline away, action today, and manage the decisions in the future if need to?

Now, where does that come from?

One day, Cynthia picked up the phone and make an appointment with the oven repairman.  Within minutes after his arrival at our home, our oven is back to operation after months if not years of breakdown.  We are S$230 poorer but at least, we can now bake cakes.

Or vegetable pies.

*     *     VII     *     *

One commonality between this year’s post and the last year’s one is the picture used.  Both are taken in Bandung, Indonesia.  As you can see, I still have a backlog of unprocessed photographs, overdue for more than a year.  Alas!  Backlog of this, backlog of that.  Now you know why I need to do-it-now, and do it as committed as I can be.

Categories
Diary Reflection

A Recollection – How Years Have Vanished!

When I was young ...

Yep.  That little kid you see in the photo is me.  I have got the confirmation this morning and I will get to that in just a moment.  Like many entries I write, this one started with a concept, a consolidation of ideas for the past few days.  I have got my thoughts linked and drawn out on a piece of paper last evening ready to be put down in words, in a snippet style.  But like many entries you see, I prefer to start each piece of writing with a picture – an anchor to the words that follow.  As I dug deeper into the digital archive my father has recently created for my sister and I finding that one picture that suits the theme, my emotion ran high.  One event led to another and I have decided to chuck most of my initial train of thoughts onto a perhaps a later schedule.  Besides, today is a Sunday.  Sundays are for the family and the pondering of the good old days.

It all started with the 2004 film “13 Going On 30” played on TV one relaxing Saturday night, last night to be exact.  My initial plan was to read a book borrowed from the national library while accompanying Cynthia to be the coach-potato-in-crime.  That did not work out.  I ended up laughing and crying with Cynthia, as we watched “13 Going On 30” together.  For those of you who may not have heard of the storyline, a 13 years old girl wakes up one day as a 30 years old – exactly what she has wished for on her birthday.  And all of a suddenly, there is a memory gap of close to 2 decades.

Yesterday was also the Mid-Autumn Festival.  Traditionally – in Hong Kong as far as I can remember – families carried lanterns lit up using candles joining hands as they walked to a park nearby.  It was a pretty scene to see in the evening.  We would spread a mat onto the ground; my sister and I would place the candles and mark the perimeter of our base; and we would eat mooncakes and pomelo and other munchies as we admired the full moon.  Replenishing the candles around us and inside the lanterns was enough to keep my sister and I occupied throughout the evening.  Occasionally, lanterns would catch fire burned to the core.  That was as close to playing with fire as we could get.

So, it was “13 Going on 30” in the evening of the Mid-Autumn Festival, with I in Singapore, my parents in Hong Kong, and my sister in her new family not too far away from where I live, I could not help but pondered: How years have vanished!  And how I have changed!

In retrospect, I should have gone through the old photos with my parents when they were here in Singapore earlier on this year.  But you know how we always think we have better things to do, I have missed that opportunity, an opportunity of a narration of my very own childhood story.  This morning, as I looked at each photo of my sister and I and our parents – a visual memory of our childhood – there was a surreal feeling of being taken back in time, a time that I have zero recollection.  I was unsure of the location; and I was not even sure if it was me in some of the photos.  Panic struck and I called for Cynthia’s help.  “That should be you, I think,” she replied casually as she continued with her breakfast.  “I think” is not good enough.  I need certainty!

So I called home.  My mother picked up the phone while she was still asleep.  I was so happy to hear her voice.  Describing the photos in detail, one by one, I kept on asking if it was me or my sister or someone else.  I wanted to know where we were and I wanted to know what we were doing.  To be fair, I think my mother must have had a hard time trying to take in what I described and to give a definitive answer.  “That should be you,” said my mother as I described what I wore.  But she added, “Although you sister would be wearing the same too.  You two shared some of the clothes as you were growing up”.

No!

The signboard says Macau, was I there?  The background is a mountain and a lake and there are straws of grass as the foreground, was I the kid in the photo?  That green lion statue, where was it?  It was a picnic, a mat, a half eaten apple, a bottle of milk, a little toddler playing with a plate, was that me?  My dad was half naked, making a face, and the little one with long hair must be my sister; how come I was not in the picture?

I talked non-stop, bombarding my mother who has freshly woken out from the bed with questions after questions.  But like all good stories that ideally should come with a good ending, my dad returned home from fishing.  I could hear our dog scratching the door in anticipation.  “I will ask dad to call you later, OK?” asked my mother.  “Sure,” I replied.  “I will be waiting,” added I.

Ten minutes later, my phone rang.  “That was you in that photo!” exclaimed my mother.  “That was me!” exclaimed I.  Apparently, my parents were watching the DVD – that I too should have a copy – as they commented on the locations and the circumstances of each photo.  That DVD!  I have almost forgotten.  “You dad has sorted the photos nicely on that DVD,” said my mother, “One section for you and another one for your sister.”

I quickly slotted the DVD onto my computer and was surprised to see the following message from my father on the screen.  The title is “回憶”, which means a recollection.  I would have missed his message to me had I not planned to write this entry!

這是一輯舊相片,有少年的我和萍,有幼小時兒女。舊的相片能引起一些回憶,您們看後,能帶給您多少回憶與共鳴。 舊的相片能保留人和物事,但人、就逐漸老化,所以它、能給我們回嚐當年的甜、酸、苦、辣,今天;苦盡甘来,我們能夠歡樂地,幸福地過活,都是我們共同努力和感謝上天的恩賜!在我心中,謹記著[知足常樂]無貪、無惡、無妒、無恨。

I will not translate the message in full here, unless someone really wants to know.  My dad has a few life mantras that he often shares with me.  One is about the end of bitterness comes the sweetness.  Maybe because his life is full of hardship.  Endurance appears to be one of his strengths and he always works towards that “sweetness”, that reward.  And he often projects that ideal reward onto the success of my sister and I.  Another one is to be happy is to be contented, without greed, without evil deeds, without jealousy, and without hatred.  Maybe because these ideals are imbued onto me since young, they seem to be my personal mantras too.

It was my parents’ turn to describe the photos while watching the DVD thousands of miles away from me.  As I closed my eyes trying to recall the photos that I have spent the entire morning admiring, I imagined I was with my parents in Hong Kong, in our living room, watching and laughing at these visual memories together, as they narrated through the photos.  It has been a while since we laugh, in such openness.  We touched onto the topic that I found it hard to tell between the pictures of my sisters and the pictures of mine.  “When your sister was young, people said that she looked like a boy,” said my mother.  She then paused, a long paused.  And I continued, “And I looked like a girl?”  “And you looked like a girl,” laughed my mother.

It was such a lovely morning, such a sweet morning.

Spend time to make a living if you may, spend time to get entertained if you wish, spend time to read if you want to acquire new knowledge, but don’t forget to put aside some time to document your life or lives of those whom you love (online social networking does not count, unfortunately).  One day you may wish to answer the question on how years have vanish.

Categories
Reflection

A Spiritual Reflection – What Karen Armstrong’s Case For God Really Means To Me?

This post is irregular in two ways.  One, I am often – if not always – happy with what I publish here.  Technically speaking, there is nothing wrong with the book summary I wrote on a Sunday morning, 7am to be exact.  But the more I read that post, the more disconnected I feel.  I wish I have exposed more of me.  I guess a book summary is a book summary; a self-reflection is a self-reflection.  Holding back, I was and hence this post – an amendment, an addendum, a companion to that book summary.

Two, I seldom write about my spiritual journey.  Two reasons.  First, I do not consider myself as a spiritual role model.  The topic of God is not something I can articulate well.  My sister Lora, for example, can do it brilliantly.  Too bad, she has taken a break from writing.  I sincerely hope that she will write again soon.  Second, I prefer to embed God’s goodness in the things that I do, things that I write, and things that I create.  I think it is hard to make an impact to people’s lives by talking about God, with my limited articulation skill on this very topic.  It is much easier for me to take an indirect route instead.

Karen Armstrong’s “The Case For God” has much impact to my inner self in various ways.  New knowledge aside – which I have covered in my previous post – my personal spiritual journey suddenly makes so much sense. As my humble tribute to the book and to the gifted author, here are what I have interiorized, thus far.

  1. My First Ekstasis
  2. My Religious Upbringing
  3. Finding God
  4. Where Do I Go From Here?

My First Ekstasis

I suspect ‘that’ was my first ekstasis, now that I have read the book.  I do not remember much about my childhood.  But of the few scenes that I remember, this one in especially leaves a deep impressive.

When I was young, perhaps less than ten, I would sit somewhere in the living room and start to ponder, by asking a series of simple questions that lead from one to  another.  I would look at a nearby object and ask: where does the table come from?  A tree.  Where does a tree come from?  The Earth.  Where does Earth come from?  The Universe.  Where does the Universe come from?  Or I could ask: where do I come from?  My mother.  Where does my mother come from?  My mother’s mother.  Where does she come from?  So on and on, searching for that one answer beyond words.

Bear in mind that I was very young, with little knowledge in my head, I wasn’t that smart to figure things out (probably still don’t).  But I would expand my questions, till a point whereby everything broke down.  I remember vividly that my mind would go black, I would see the swirling stars.  I would feel as though I had left my body, lost in a spiritual world.  I would lie on the floor with eyes closed.  The more I did it, the longer I would stay in that state.  It was a strange feeling, a very good feeling.  One day, I was scared.  What if I could not come back?  And then I pondered lesser and lesser.  All of a sudden, I lost that ability, that out-of-the-body experience.  I miss those swirling stars a lot.  Till this day.

Could this be my first ekstasis?  To go beyond myself and transcend the normal experience?

My Religious Upbringing

I studied in a Catholic school, brought up in – I suppose – a Taoism (Daoism) family.  During one class, our teacher asked each of us which religion we belong to.  When it came to my turn, I had no clue how to answer that question.  In Chinese, what my parents did was called “Worshipping God”.  But “Worshiping God” is not a religion, is it?

So we had a family meeting.  And have decided that it was Taoism.  Next day, I had an answer to my teacher.  And to all whom asked.

As I grew up, there are more who tell me that Taoism equals to idol worshiping (which is bad) than those like Karen Armstrong who thinks that the religion does have something we can learn from.  And probably due to the influence I had in school, one day I asked my parents a deeper question on what Taoism is?  Where is the Taoism ‘scripture’?

Those questions shocked my mother a bit.  Or it could be a great deal as I often find it hard to fully measure her emotional intensity until it erupts.  As my parent attempted to explain, I gathered that different deities are being worshipped upon.  Each comes with a legend of its own.  The Chinese are familiar with the associated folk stories.  When I insisted on the ‘scripture’, my father started to recite passages written by the ancient Chinese.  For example, there is one passage that is structured in words of three, full of morale codes, how the Universe was created, the philosophy of mankind, and etc.  I asked my father if there was a book somewhere in the house and he said none.  His parents recited these passages to him when he was young and he – like all those before him I suppose – learned the passages verbally.

Fascinated with Chinese literature I was, I did not go far with the study of the myths of the Chinese legends.  Nor did I go far with the study of those passages, which I still think they are beautiful to recite.  After I have read “The Case For God”, something struck me.  Folk Taoism it may be, this ancient religion contains the mythos (myths), morale codes and stories to ponder upon, and a ritual that my parents – together with many Chinese – regularly do.  The religion is still a living one, helps to construct meaning in face of our hardship.  And liberating as it sounds, there is nothing wrong with the religion I was brought up with – I realized.

Finding God – Part I

Till today, I am still proud that as a then-non-believer, I could score an A for Religious Studies prior to moving to UK for my A-level study.  Many of my classmates in Hong Kong struggled.  But to me, Religious Studies was one of the most enjoyable subject.  Examination questions often came in the form of: this and this happened as written in the Bible, what does that mean?  What are the implications?  If it is a question that worth a score of 20, you need at least 20 points based on your interpretation that in turn, based the various quotations from the Bible.  For me, I would provide not 20, but 40 points.  Because I knew even if I missed half of the number of points as required by the question, I would still score full mark.

That worked of course.  But how did I find that many interpretations to start with?  The good news is that Bible is a highly structured highly cross-referenced set of materials.  The four Gospels tells a similar set of stories in slightly different perspectives.  And within the Gospels as well as other texts in the Bible, it is easy to find linkages to expand your interpretation.  No doubt I had to get some basic concepts right (like what is the Trinity).  But I had no problem in interpreting the Bible as far as the examination is concerned.

My journey to find God has been a bumpy one.  Just as Karen Armstrong mentioned, I too have gone through the stage whereby I used science to find God and to find God in science.  What is God?  Where is He?  Surely God has to be observable.  Or are we created by aliens instead?  And I have also gone through the stage whereby I read the Bible literally and started to have found more and more things that did not make sense.

Throughout the years of frustration, I have finally decided that a free thinker was probably best to describe who I was.  Yes, there must be a God somewhere because in no way we could explain nature’s design if otherwise.  But I did not go further than that.

Finding God – Part II

Looking back – especially after reading the book – I think it is the rituals and the myths that brought me [back] to Catholicism.

Many times, a friend would approach me and ask what he or she should do to convert his or her partners into the same faith.  I wish there was an easy answer.  But here is my brief story.

Cynthia has never put pressure on me to be a Catholic like her.  When we first started as a couple, I often accompanied her to Churches and sat in through the Mass.  It didn’t bother me to the least.  I often find Churches and Cathedrals a serene place to be at.  Besides, it never failed to amaze me how persistence Cynthia wanted to attend a Mass, regardless of the weather, or even the fact that we were in a foreign city.  Each time I attended the Mass, I observed the ritual.  The more I read about what is behind each ritual, the more meaningful the Mass is to me.  Soon, I wanted to participate in the process, to have that moment of divinity.  It was no swirling stars for sure.  But of the many moments I experience in the Mass, that moment of offering a piece of me and to take in a piece God – as my godmother once told me – is still the defining moment every time I receive the Communion (after I have baptized).  We humans need the physical touch in order to communicate feeling and love.  Hence we hug, we hold hands, we kiss, and etc.  And that piece of God, in the form of a host received during our Communion, is as physical as it can get.

But that host is just …

OK, I have tossed science out of the way long time ago.  A little bit of faith – as a matter of commitment and practical living according to Karen Armstrong – is all I need.

I went through an accelerated baptism course, delivered inside a priest’s office with he and I and Cynthia as my support.  When the priest asked me if I believe in the garden of Eden, that God took a rib from Adam and created Eve, in less than a heartbeat I replied, “Yes, I believe.”  I took a leap of faith, literally.

The priest laughed and told me that, “No, it is a story, a myth.”  In fact, many times, when we studied the scripture in detail, he would say, “This is a mystery”.  How can God work in such a mysterious way?  Back then, I have accepted this mystery mentality.  A mentality that apparently did not sit well with some of my Protestant friends.  We could have an open dialog one day, ended the night with some open questions.  And the next day, my friends – with their network of Protestant’s support – would return with a long list of answers, the counter-arguments.  It was as though the scripture has answers for everything.  Even on the question why Catholicism is not part of Christianity.

I am not an articulated theologist.  And I often retreat from these long list of canned Q & A and fall back onto what I am comfortable with – a standardized Mass from any given Catholic Church all over the world that has the very same prayers, the very same scriptural readings, on any particular day; that we may not have answers to everything in life; and there are more than one way to interpret the scripture, as Karen Armstrong says.

Later, as I read “The Case For God”, I have come to the realization that God is unknowable.  But that doesn’t stop us from our ritual and meditation.  And to that extend, the mysteries and the standardized Mass works for me.  The eventful (and standardized) Catholic calendar too works for me.

Where Do I Go From Here?

I agree with Karen Armstrong.  We cannot find God using science.  Nor any religion today has a final say.  Personally, I have deep respect to other religions.  And I have read into some of them too (for it is hard to accept and respect other religions if you don’t know what they are).  I can also understand where atheists or free thinkers come from.  Maybe the gap between the not so devoutly faithful and the free thinkers is not really as much as we think it is.  As for my personal development, I shall take Karen Armstrong’s advise that religion should be a constant practice, an ability that is built over time.  One day, the intensity of those swirling stars may return.  Perhaps not in the exact form.  But ekstasis in experiencing God, I hope, no less.

Categories
Diary Reflection Whacky Thoughts

32 Weeks Have Passed And I Now Have My To-do List

Recently, I read an entry from one of my friend’s private blog.  It is kind of private because I promise her long time ago that I wouldn’t make a link into her site.  She said, six months have passed and she still doesn’t know what she wants to do.  And she has another six months to figure that out.

That inspires me to think: August is here, what have I done so far?  My friends ask me what happens to my band and I go … erm.  They ask if I still write songs and I go … erm.  What happen to that association?  Do you still paint?  I haven’t seen you for ages, what have you been doing?

Erm.

I update my Facebook status often.  Often on what I plan to do.  I reckon if I write something in public – like in here or in any social networking site – I am committed to something.  And there is a higher chance that something gets done, which is better than always thinking of doing something that never get done.

So from now till December 31, I am committed to do the followings.  All of the followings.  Items one, to seven.

1. Do up my MySpace page and put a song or two inside (est. effort: 40 hrs)

I love my band.  If it was up to me, I would set up a practice or recording session every weekend.  Maybe we shall have a summer break and a Christmas break.  But other than that, we should meet up regularly and jam.  Because I believe that any serious hobby warrants a once a week practice.  Like my Spanish lessons.  The reality is, we meet only once in two months, three months.

And if it was up to me, I would like to do some decent recording and share with the public.  But my [lower] standard is not the same as some of my band mates.  I am a blogger.  I produce contents on a near daily basis.  I am happy to share the demo musical works with my readers regularly.  Keep the engagement going.  To hear some feedback, and to grow.  Especially when that CD quality band recording seems so impossible to attain given our pace.  Time to do some solo works.  More like an incubator of for the band, at my personal turbo pace (everything in life is relative).

2. Finish digitalizing my CD collection (est. effort: 24 hrs)

As of today, I have already digitalized 11,127 music tracks.  Just keep going!  Don’t stop!

3. Clear the photo back log (est. effort: 75 hrs)

I would love to visit the Singapore Zoo and take some pictures but I don’t feel like doing so.  Because I have such a huge back log to clear.  The good news is that I have established some kind of Sunday rhythm to spend some time with the photo processing and categorization work.

4. Properly tag my 1,100+ blog entries (est. effort: 24 hrs)

Tagging is a new concept for me.  I put my entries into fixed categories, year after year.  Recently, I discover that there is something called tagging, alongside with categories.  I may be messy in real life.  But I love structures.  So I will have to go through each entry one by one and tag them nicely.

5. Spanish!  Onto Lower Intermediate and read a Spanish book (est. effort: 24 hrs + ?? hrs)

After 20 lessons of Beginner level, 20 lessons of Elementary level, Cynthia and I are heading to the Lower Intermediate class.  The date is set: August 25th.  But there is a catch.  We have to pass the examination on August 22nd.  That is hard!  Super hard!  I am really not good at the language department.  But I will try.

About that Spanish book … we shall see.

6. Quick recording of all my 158 songs (est. effort: 158 hrs)

Year 1994, I wrote my first song.  I reckon I still remember most if not all my 158 songs.  However, I know one day my memory may fade.  And some of those songs may be lost forever.  Now, that’s sad.  In view of this rather probable rather depressing reality, I have always wanted to record all my work.  It’s not as easy as it sounds.  I tend to spend time rewriting the parts that didn’t work, readjusting the key of the song, and on top of that, being a perfectionist, I wanted to do some decent recording.  That project didn’t last.

So now, I have reset my goal.  I need some quick and dirty recording.  Get it over and done with.  Some sort of documentation.  And then, I can pick ones that I like and do a better job.  Have them posted to MySpace (see point #1) for public sharing.

7. Seek direction on that blogger association I am associated with

I have to find an answer to that question: Where are we heading?  I am looking forward to seeing a new team.  Either way, my 1 year tenure will be up, after this year end.  A toast to all-good-things.

*     *     *     *     *

Wow, a total of 344 hours span over the remaining 20 weeks.  Now you know why I need a more balanced working life.  And unlike some of you, I am not inspired to work that extra hours for the big bucks plus promotion (otherwise, why would you trade more time with the same amount of reward?).  If I can complete all of the above before 2009 ends, I can start 2010 with a much lighter load.

On a separate note, one day I was really excited setting up my N97 as a web server – a future looking solution from Nokia Beta Labs.  What is more interesting is how people react to this ‘concept solution’.  One friend listened with interest and immediately, you can see his mind was working fast and he nodded: this could be useful.  One friend cracked some jokes on the potential applications, kind of similar to my initial dramatic thought that involves a striking long legged spy and her N97 (you can activate the phone’s camera remotely via Internet anywhere in the world amongst other bizarre things you can do).  Another friend, a Nokia non-supporter said: It is kind of pointless eh?

Life is full of pointless little things, I think.  At times I wonder what is the point in spending time with those social networking sites.  Recently, I looked into the periodic table via a free application called “Elements” from the Nokia OVI Store.  Did you know that there is an element called Einsteinium (Es)?  Its existence, from what I read, is pretty pointless.  Named after you-know-who.  To artificially create Einsteinium, first you need to irradiate plutonium-239 inside a nuclear reactor for couple of years.  Then mix the resulting plutonium-242 isotope with aluminum and further irradiate this mixture inside a nuclear reactor for another year or so.  The result is a mixture of Californium and Einsteinium that can be separated.

So, what’s the use of Einsteinium?  It could be pointless to some.  Or as an intermediate step in advancing scientific research to others.  I wonder if it would be safe to drink from a mug made in Einsteinium.

Einsteinium on Nokia app Elements

Categories
Diary Reflection

Into the Valley of Selegie

An area around Selegie

A few good friends of mine commented that I have come to a full circle when I told them that (1) I’ve moved to a “new” office that isn’t new and (2) year 2000 I worked at the same building for the same employer.  The difference is: I was a consultant to them back then and am one of their gazillion employees now.  I have no idea what a full circle means.  Year 2000 was perhaps a mini-peak of my career.  And then kind of crashed and burned for a while.  Recently, things started to look up and then I am working in the same building as I was nine years ago.  Now, is that a full circle?  What is a full circle?

Back in the beginning of this millennium, the surrounding area of my office was awesome.  Vast area of greenery right in the middle of the city.  And then the unthinkable happened: our government has decided to build a university that spans across adjacent plots of beautiful parks.  I was much saddened, kind of upset.  Today, Singapore Management University (SMU) looks pretty awesome, architect in a way that blends in well with the surrounding.  But I still prefer the parks to a set of buildings that mean nothing to me, personally.

I still prefer the newer looking old office to my older looking new office.  One friend at work said to me: Once it gets into your system, you’ll be fine with it.  My desk space has shrunk at least 4 times; I no longer have my own desk; there are junks, empty water bottles, half drank water bottles left behind from the previous occupants; dust everywhere; I now look up and see tons of faces staring at me; and there are even more staring at the back of my head.  These two days, I have this hallucination that I am working inside a cube farm.  I know what I am producing each day.  I wonder what everyone else are producing each passing moment.  Time to get plugged in.  I need a phone line.

I am a natural when it comes to making myself happy creatively and realistically.  So I took the opportunity to explore the area during my lunch hours.  It turned out so fun that I am going to set up a plan to explore this strange neighborhood systematically.  Day one after my brief lunch, I took a walk into the area of Selegie, discovered quite a number of eating places, old fashioned shops that sell interesting stuffs, new shops that are opening soon, quite a number of night clubs, and I came face-to-face with the awesome looking building called LASALLE College of the Arts.  I took some pictures with my phone.  I wish I had my dSLR with me.

I took a picture of LASALLE in year 1996 when the construction was started and another one in 1997 when it was completed (see my previous blog entry).  Perhaps life is as such: At times we go through changes in life and some are dusty, some are messy, and through all these unpleasantness, inconvenience, something good, something beautiful may blossom.

LASALLE College of Arts

Categories
Reflection

A New Theme for the New Year – Follow It Through!

A Volcano in Bandung, Straight from my Nikon D700

Following my annual tradition in determining a new theme for a new year – pretty much like how a Pope is chosen – a few ideas have been going round my head for days and I have been waiting for an answer [from above].  As though I saw fumata bianca raising up from my ears, one day I woke up with such clarity of this-is-it.  Avid readers have witnessed how such a simple concept called theme has shaped my life in a sustained manner over the years.  I welcome my friends’ questions such as “Does it really work?” and “How does it work?” and I would like to briefly share my thoughts with you.

One, unlike New Year Resolution that often revolves around things that I should not do and things that I set out to do, a theme captures the essence and the internal driving force and reasoning on what I aspire to achieve, which gives me a much stronger willpower in battling with the daily little decisions.  And two, annual themes are aggregative in nature.  A theme is supposed to make me a better person and after one long year of practice, it should become my way of life.  Sure, there are occasions when I need to take out an old theme from the closet, blow off the dust, and give it a new look.  Every year, I have dreamed of a new theme since 1996.  Some themes are public, some are not.

This year, I pick the theme “Follow It Through!”.  Last year’s theme “Do It!” has done wonder.  It prompted me to start doing so many different things and has kept my life very exciting albeit chaotic.  But it has its shortcomings.  Quick wins and low hanging fruits are favored over longer term activities that require sustained effort and resources and interest.

Sustained interest is hard.

So what kind of ‘projects’ fall under the umbrella of “Follow It Through!”?  Quite a lot as it turns out to be.  I want to continue to head towards a healthier lifestyle.  Already abstained from alcohol for close to one full year, I want to substantially reduce the intake of meat (especially red meat) and unhealthy ingredients.  And I want to resume my regular exercise ritual.  I want to look healthy, feel healthy, and be healthy.  Why stop at body health?  This year, I have resumed my spiritual ritual and have started to attend Mass regularly.  Weekly close encounter with God seems like something mandatorily non-negotiable.  Besides, I begin to derive new meanings to my reinvigorated faith.

My friends ask what our band will do next.  Good question.  We finally played a live gig.  That is “Do It!”.  Now, we need a series of next steps.  That is hard work.  Cynthia and I have passed our level 2 Spanish test with ‘flying colors’ as informed by the school (more update to come!) and we intend to continue to level 3 and 4 in the year 2009.  That too is hard work.  Our home is long overdue for stage 2 of renovation.  I think Cynthia would jump in tears of joy when she reads this.  It is high time we execute what we have been talking for years, what I have been sitting on for years.  That is very hard work.

Many ideas have been floating in the air for far too long.  I see fumata bianca.  It is less sexy than “Do It”.  But it is time to “Follow It Through!”.

PS. A picture taken during my trip to Bandung at one of the volcanoes.  It is straight from my camera as I prefer to do without post production if possible.  Strangely, the color looks a lot more vibrant before I convert the image into JPG that is what you see here.