No reservations

Watching her cry, I feel the weight of her family on her shoulders. A daughter’s anguish from watching her mother’s pain, manifested in a body connected to countless tubes in the Intensive Care Unit.

“Love one another,” she says, because you never know when they will not be there anymore. It is true, so true, and in a flashback of what happened two years ago, I remember so vividly the fear of not being able to say the things we have always felt but kept in our hearts, the traumatic thoughts of not having the chance to see those you love before they fall into unconsciousness, the fact the they do not have the knowledge that you love them so. Suddenly, the importance of work crumbles in the face of such adversity, worries about other people’s impressions and a façade to upkeep seem ridiculously silly, and all you hope for is to be able to hold their hands and tell them you love them.

Each week passes by, an oblivious rollercoaster ride of deadlines that fade into nothingness. Some days you look back at the past few months and wonder what happened during that period of time; the days seemed to have started and ended without any meaningful memories created in between. We spend hours hunched at our desk in the office, worrying about the wording of an email, which may not even be looked at for more than 10 seconds, and we stress over the promotion that might skip us by. Home becomes just a place for bed and breakfast and we don’t even realize how much has changed in the life of our loved ones. We count the pennies but miss the big bucks; we fight many wars and win them, but we lose the battle. Myopia seems to have overtaken many of us, literally and metaphorically, and short-sightedness has led to many forgetting the most important bigger picture of life, the things that matter more than those that don’t.

A conversation at the Cheesecake café with a great friend of mine kept me thinking, a thread of thoughts started not only recently. Decisions we make on a daily basis, based out of fear? Or boldness to try something new, just because we desire to? A year off work seems like a huge decision to make, just to pursue a dream, or longing, when that is the same amount of time since the start of my working life. Yet experience for me enlarges the spectrum of my understanding, makes me rooted but gives me the power to believe, and shorter-term gains diminish in light of these. Encouragement from friends who have always chased their dreams, persistent in their beliefs as well as mine, that makes me feel so much lighter.

It’s like that with so many things. Planning is great, it helps you have an idea of where you want to go; but the magic is in the boldness, of creation of doing, and of trying even if you don’t know if you might succeed. Baby steps make the journey, and building a foundation in our relationships doesn’t take place overnight on occasional birthday parties; the pretty card in the mail once every half a year doesn’t suffice if you want to be a part of their lives as much as they are a part of yours. I realize that making the effort consistently, not only when you feel like it, nor only when things crop up, is what builds the unshakable base which holds us even as we shake.

Tell them you love them, say it as often as you feel the need and want to, do it unabashedly, boldly, without reservation. Get up and do things you want to do, now, not tomorrow, not next year. Don’t hesitate anymore. In Nike’s famous household slogan – Just do it.

To never forget

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.”
-Arundhati Roy

One of the signature quotes at the end of email messages, one of the quotes that always stun me in an absolutely refreshing way.

It is so easy to become immune to the violence and distress that once so thoroughly disturbed us during our daily news reading. It is so easy to frown and wrinkle our noses in disgust at the dirt-filled rat-infested conditions which the beggars live in, and then to walk on buy into the comfort of the five-star hotel, and out of sight, the poverty temporarily goes out of mind. It is so difficult to imagine and witness the pure joy on the faces of the little ones who spend their whole days playing with a simple ball, a game we take for granted, a game we are bored with, and it strikes us so hard to see these young children with more joy than us with all our expensive ostentatious goods. It is increasingly hard to appreciate beauty in what we do and have, when we have become shaped to complain without batting an eyelid, and to shout at what is not going well. We have became what we eat, and in this world of fast food, fast service, we have lost our patience for even the simplest things, we do not see anymore than we do not get nourished. It shocks us to see a woman with cancer encouraging her loved ones not to be upset, when really it should have been the other way round. We have become so accustomed to the grind of life which tells us money and status rule the world, that people high up on their pedestals should be treated like gods while poor people and those junior staff should be disregarded, ill-respected and not worthy of our time. We forget that sometimes certain things are just as they seem, and we spend precious amounts of time complicating two-dimensional matters when we should be spending more time solving and analyzing the world we live in. We become masks of insecurity mingling at events for the sake of networking, when actually we just want to spend some solitary time to gather our thoughts. What are we rushing to, where are we colliding headlong into? Why do we look away from that which is not pretty, nice or even just normal? Why do we forget so soon the things which have taken place? Why are we shocked when things which have been building up ages suddenly happen? What do we need before we can remember?

Life’s little surprises

I often remember Mannheim days with extreme fondness, with plenty of love and happy thoughts. One day I remember especially well is the day Faye brought back a cake and I saw her walking home with it, with me sitting on the number 60 bus. Somehow I knew the cake was for me. I remember being so happy when she really did surprise me in the room with it!! And to my greater surprise, she told me that Shawn my wonderful cousin had actually contacted her via facebook to coordinate the surprise for me!

I remember skyping with Shawn as I ate the bday cake, very very happy that he had actually bothered to do all that. I can still remember the exact cake, it was chocolate coated and there was a banana on the top. I loved it.

I also remember how on the eve of my birthday I was skyping with Shawn before the dinner Faye had booked me for, and she was telling me that it was just the two of us but that I should dress up cos it was my birthday. Then when I arrived at the restaurant, I got a huge shock when I saw 20+ guests gathered at the Istanbul restaurant all beaming at me! And then later at night where half the party adjourned at my hostel to celebrate and party even more.

I think it doesn’t take a lot to make me happy, just some simple gesture and kind words and I treasure the friendship/ thought for life. Faye did the same for me last year when she brought a bouquet of flowers for me for my bday, taking me completely by surprise.

I think life is beautiful, when you are surrounded by friends and family who care and share so much.

I still remember the first day in Mannheim, our first lunch as we walked through the Turkish quarters, eating at DBO doner, as we bought a sim card for communication in Mannheim. I remember drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, smelling the freshness of summer’s end ushering in autumn’s majestic entrance, the sunshine spilling though Crystal and Jengyin’s sky windows in Hafenstrasse, and their kind offers of biscuits and chocolate.

I have a sudden longing to return and see Mannheim again, to walk next to the Schloss and its large white-framed Baroque windows. To tread down the cobbled streets along the Hauptbahnhoft, and dance in Zapattos. I want to sit down behind Hafenstrasse on the grass, in the heat of summer, lying on nothing but a mat and eating butter pretzels, drinking beer and listening to music blasting from Aaron’s laptop. Watching him cook the weisswurst in the hot water and giving us an introductory course on slicing the German sausages.

I want to return to Mannheim, and replay all the memories, so many made, and especially those with you.

Life’s little surprises, are so beautiful.

Mannheim was one of them.

A Mother’s Heart

She yearns and she pines for her daughter’s return
Her safety and her love
A mother gives her all to her little daughter
Dresses her up and cuddles her
When her daughter is a baby,
All she wishes is for her to grow up
So they can talk about life and love and girly stuff
And as the little girl grows up and finds
Her friends among them and boys as well
A mother there she in the back seat dwell
Girlfriends and movie nights and sleepovers too
A daughter is caught up with all in school
The mail in the post she waited for
A shadow of the car trailing away as she goes for a date
Her mother watches from the window pane
‘My little girl has grown’, then says her name
Little whispers of shy words now said but
No longer to her mother
The girl is grown and delights in another
The baby daughter who used to twirl in front
Of the mirror showing mother and daughter
Now stands tall and upright in her gown
As she walks down the isle to her other
The crowd is watching as the father guides her down the path
Happy yet sad to release his daughter
Into the hands of another man
Yet while the father eventually lets go
Her mother is the one whose tears fall silently
A smile breaking into crystal beads
Of love, of memories and of silent joy
She sits in the pew as her daughter glances
Into the eyes of her new found partner
Into the life she will now own, no longer attached to her mother
And as the church bells chime their blessed union,
The bride gathers her train and turns around
She blows her mother a butterfly kiss
Dear mummy you I will dearly miss
But a mother-daughter bond will not fall apart
Nor break because of an added son
But their unity becomes stronger because very soon,
Her daughter becomes a mother too.

Happy Mother’s Day! to all mothers & mothers-to-be : )

One of the boys with the shaven heads

The start of a brand new week, halfway into the month, the fresh slate of another phase in life.

Monday marks the day when the civilian title no longer belongs to him; when the government is now the major stakeholder in his life; when the green grassy fields and isolated island will become his home for the next few months. It will be a day where family is gathered to witness the ceremony of his becoming a national serviceman, the entry into a journey where many have tread and many are still finishing. The route which many hope to be over even before it has started. Conscription for a nation whose tiny physical size is overcompensated by the pyschological force of a army; for a people who hardly consider it their duty to protect the country which forced them into a state of stagnation for two full years.

The army and I never had much of an affinity; table conversations about my male university-mates’ forays into the jungle with their tanks and rifles hardly held my attention for long. Cameo painted faces and sweat stained uniformed soldiers were never much my idea of fun nor enticement. My mind often drifted off to other topics of greater holding power when the boys gathered around to brag or bitch about their days and ways of slacking in the army. I remember tuning out intentionally for the lack of interest and zealousness about the two years which many of my male friends claim were forcefully snatched from their lives. It contradicted with the fact that they were always so excited to discuss which batch and officer they had; which platoon they were in; the types of equipment they dealt with; and the ranks they managed to climb in the army of little green soldiers. I brought this dissonance up once; and the very logical reply to this contradictive nature of post-army boys was that although they hated army, the only thing they had for those couple of years and a few more months was, honestly and unfortunately, the army.

In short, it was never my intention to know very much about the army, except for the fact that I could gladly say I didn’t have the misfortune of being stuck in that situation. Now however, it seems to be moving closer to my heart. Ronald, my one and only brother, and really valued family member, will be moving to Pulau Tekong for his basic military training (BMT) this coming Monday. Enlistment is almost as important as passing out; because of the huge significant of the content between both events. I took a day off to watch this rite of passage, which for all boys growing up in Singapore, is a big deal, whether they like it or not. In a mere 2 days, Ronald will not be at home all the time, as he is now, so it feels weird to imagine what home will be like without his usual presence, even if he was cooped up playing the computer or surfing the net. No one to brag to me about his blog anymore; whose obsession with writing and drawing had the special power to irritate and inspire all at the very same time. Since the beginning of this year, I had started preparing for my brother’s entrance into army; and even now, I still find it hard to believe that the little brother of mine is now not so little any more.

I feel emotional just thinking about it; how time slides by without our knowing; a couple of minutes here, a couple of years there. My little brother has grown up. There is a photograph of me hugging my brother as we sat on the huge black armchair in our old house, he looked so chubby and small all at once; I look ridiculously happy hugging him; and he was grinning the house upside down. I suppose that was at least 17 years ago; but that picture captured a nostalgia of a bond which was formed so long ago, yet in the most recent years actually strengthened.

In the last couple of years, my brother became a good friend; family by chance, friend by choice. He was my writing muse, my fellow narcissist, equally proficient at being irritating as myself, and confidante. It was reassuring knowing he was there at home, even if we only talked to each other to bug the other to read our latest blog post. He became more recently, my jogging mate; my pacer, and one of my inspirations. Every family member I have has a special place in my heart; for their unique characteristics, and my brother has been a comforter, a fellow writer, a giver of advice.

I know the army is only temporary; but still it marks his turning into an adult; no longer the little chubby cheeky boy in the picture. I’m happy for my brother yet at the same time know I will be missing his previous almost always-there presence at home. But i know he’ll turn out into a fine young man; finer than he already is.

The best gift a father can give his child

I came across an article this morning, that though deceptively simple, is really a piece of prose that deserves pondering; whether you are a male or female, father or mother, daughter or son.

So many fathers strive so hard at work to provide a “good life” for their families, sincerely hoping to give their families and children the sense of security and financial support which society deems very important. Yes, that is no doubt absolutely right. Yet one stark fact remains that because of the way many fathers wrongly bring their children up, through bad attitudes in the house and outside of it; many grow up more aware of the lack of a father’s guidance and love than of the dad’s actual physical presence. Articles have been painstaking written for decades about the impact of fathers on their children; their absence as significant as their presence. Once in a while, you come across something that really makes alot of sense.

Here’s the article I started this post with:

The best gift a father can give his child
by Beth McHugh | More from this Blogger

I was talking recently to a very dear friend who dropped this pearl of wisdom into the conversation: “The best thing a man can do for his children is to love their mother.”

The friend couldn’t remember where she had heard this saying, but it didn’t matter. The wisdom in these few words is both concise and profound. Think about that sentence again: “The best thing a man can do for his children is to love their mother.”

Really, in terms of the bigger picture, this says it all. In loving the mother, he will, by definition, love the child. Yet in loving the mother, he also sets up a profound sense of peace and stability in the child that is irreplaceable. For children who come from a stable, loving background, this may not seem of fundamental importance. That is because they have experienced the deep peace that comes from having grown up in a loving environment and know of no other way of being.

But for adult children of difficult or fractured backgrounds, the head nods in agreement. There was little sense of peace in such an upbringing. This lack of security plays out in later life. It affects relationships at school, relationships at work and, most importantly, love relationships. Not having a sense of childhood stability makes the adolescent and adult individual needy and insecure, and effectively limits their choice of suitable partners. Often children of unstable parental relationships will go on unwittingly to provide unstable homes for their own children, thus repeating the pattern.

A father who loves his children’s mother also sets up a valuable template for both his sons and his daughters. For his sons, he displays a role model which the growing male can take as his own model for treating all the women in his life, from his mother and sisters, to his ultimate life partner.

Such a father also provides a role model for his daughters. Here the impressionable young woman can witness in the comfort of their own home all that they should expect from the men in their lives. They also learn by definition what they should not have to put up with. Having a father who loves your mother makes you more likely to go on to choose a man who will truly love you.

Finally, in giving his children this great gift, he is also demonstrating the very opposite of what some parents believe is good parenting. He is giving the intangible gift of love, not toys, gifts, and endless monetary handouts. Intangible the gift of love may be, but children soak up this invisible commodity like candy. They love it, because they inherently know it is what they need to thrive.

So fathers, show your children that you love their mother. Be as demonstrative as you know how. Stand next to her as you journey through life. The trickle-down effect of loving your partner will envelop your children in a cloak of love that will shield them from much of the harshness of life and encourage them to make better life choices.

There is no greater gift that you can give your children.

Gold trimmings on the leather bound book

Bits and pieces of me all around the world; residing where my close friends and loved ones are. The world feels so much smaller now than when I was little, maybe because I desperately wish it would be. All around the globe I have people to whom bits of my heart have been given to, a gift for them to keep and take care.

Sometimes I sit at the bus-stop thinking back on times past, of memories gold, and friends of old, who I love so much. Somehow the friends who you unexpectedly find like a treasured book in a second hand book store turn up at the doorstep of your life one day and by some random order, you establish a bond with them. A bond which you would never have made with the next-door neighbour, the classmate who you see everyday, or even family. And somehow, the similarly random order throws by some odd nature of life, chances for these jems to soar the world and achieve their dreams and aspirations, in work, in life, in love. And just a quickly as the precious encounter that allowed that friendship to develop and bloom chanced upon you, an equally unexpected turn of events leaves you finding that the people you love so much are suddenly so far away.

Yet it gladdens my heart very much, to find that despite the distance and physical separation, these friendships and relationships remain, still shining regardless of time and different lives. Sometimes our workloads and busy schedules keep us from writing and skyping as much as we would like to, but each time we talk, I know that friendships dear to me matter as much to them as well. Auburn leaves started a bond that began in autumn, the season whose colours always remind me of friendship and being found. Christmas markets and the walk in the winter’s cold make me smile wistfully, at advice given and taken, and a genuine listening ear. Sitting at the desk learning another language from scratch and using hand gestures to get my point across, yes that was a chance to understand and be understood, teacher and student to friends. Dinner after work on an impromtu desire to meet up, sales sourcing for favourite brands, and make up lessons, they remind me of so many wonderful moments. Dancing across a frozen lake, chasing in the wind, hearing the children laugh and play, that reminds me of you.

The most beautiful thing about these, arent that they make great memories, but that on top of being so, they are still very much alive and remain, shining and true, like gold trimmings on the leather bound book.

And the church bells chime…

Yes I was right. I heard wedding bells far off in the distance, but Thursday’s dinner confirmed their upcoming arrival. In a matter of hours, we heard, we laughed and hugged, we cried. The first among the whole group of us to announce the beautiful union between a man and wife, the first to smile so joyously, the first to leave as well.

A glance at my diary reminded me that the last we had a heart to heart chat about such issues was 2 months past, and now, a beautiful beaming bride-to-be about to begin her life in another place, as the same yet another woman, with her prince, the love of her life. In little more than a month, we will be seeing her off, till her wedding next year where we will once again reunite, ties unbroken, tears ready to flow at the once-in-a-lifetime ceremony.

It didnt dawn on me the huge significance of her announcement, till our trip to the city the following day, among the goals we had, one of which was to check out wedding bands. WEDDING BANDS. Gosh, walking in Cartier, Tiffany & Co. and Bvlgari was a first. Seeing all the eternity rings and brochures and blindingly blinking rings meant to declare undying love all at once was an even greater first. Throughout our forray into the stores and our very pleasant journey making conversation with the attendants, I was filled with so much excitement for the bride-to-be, all suddenly in full explosion since the build up from Wednesday’s email.

Its the second time this year I had the privilege of having a friend share her happiness with me, and trust me, no matter how divorce rates seem to drag the name of marriage down, nothing can beat the look and glow on their faces– It is their time, their life, and their love.

The crinkle of their eyes

Today was special; unlike the past months of hectic saturdays, I came home after Spanish class, my grandparents already at my house. i love them. We spoke about alot of things; but above all, it was the crinkle of their eyes as we chatted, laughed and implored; that is what I love the most.

In a blink of an eye

No longer unaccustomed to the hasty turning of time, not any more distressed with the furious ferocity with which the minutes become hours that evolve into days and eventually months. I stumbled upon the realization that it was already October, the start to yet another amazing finish of a certainly wonderful year.

Reviewing the yellowed pages of my journal, the scribbles upon which details, events and emotions were set, I surprised myself by the peace and serenity with which I accepted that while time definitely flew by again, this year it was different. Since Germany in fact. Right in the beginning of this fresh new year, one bursting with promises of brilliant discoveries and bursts of spring joy, I made myself the promise to live life grasping each second and experiencing it, determined to stop letting the years slip by untouched, leaving me without first being able to absorb its essence.

I spent alot of time rebuilding relationships, listening to people as they listened to me; appreciating the beauty of persons put miraculously in my life, allowing the journey to be as important, if not more weighty than the outcome. I know my learning style is dictated by experiencial learning; and nothing makes me more convicted than having been through a circumstance, and enjoying the route no matter where the final destination leads to.

This time last year, my Grandfather was dreadfully ill, so sick that it scared me to my core as I had never seen him weak, nor so heavily reliant on others for even basic hygiene needs. Only being able to hear his voice, weakend by medicine and the pain, on the other end of a terrible telephone connection was heart wrenching. I remember being on the way to Hamburg just before his brain surgery, ashen-faced and trembling hands, telling him I loved him through the telephone, a first. Over the course of the next two weeks, I spend a large amount of my time sitting at my laptop, using VOIP to communicate with my family, and making sure i was kept updated about his latest condition. God was good, and still is good; He made possible what seemed so hard to believe; He made me be filled with faith and gratitude again. My grandfather recovered and within a month of having 2 major operations in a short span of a mere 11 days, he was up and walking by himself again, when just before his surgeries he was not even able to hold a proper conversation for more than 15 seconds.

This sudden change of events left me relieved; but so much more aware of the fragility of life, and my one deep desire– not to ever take anything for granted as I didn’t want any more regrets. Life was too short I knew. I didnt want to reach a place I thought I should be comfortable and happy with, only to find that the years that had elasped in between were just an empty vacumn devoid of molecules of emotion, joy and great memories of life and its impacts.

I started off 2008 so estatic and yet incredibly sad all at once. I was freshly in love; brimming with happiness, yet devastated at the fact that I might possibly never see him again. Yet it was a choice I had taken in November, and no amount of sadness at separation could have changed my mind; I knew I would repeat everything in a heartbeat. It was a side of me that I had never seen before; and I surprised myself, more than I surprised others. It felt like a huge gasp of fresh oxygen in a much polluted environment, and since then, I’ve been high on this
hunger to reach for this cosntant high of experiencing.

Coming back to home, I let that be my mantra; I stopped being so in need of fulfilling other peoples’ expectations of me; I let myself decide and because of that, realised I enjoyed life so much more, and that people around also ended up enjoying being around me more. I did cry alot over issues dear to my heart, but I also laughed alot, let loose so much more, and felt the vibe of this phenomenon called Life. I learned to separate peer pressure from my personal desires and aspirations; to prioritize the assets in my life in order of importance ( and not in any way did that come in terms of monetary values), and then to give these things which were and still are significant to me the attention and love they deserved.

I picked up alot more lessons of life along the way, from passersby who happened to be at the right place at the right time, from friends whose rubies of wisdom never fail to amaze me, and from family and the love of my life. My openness to experience and understand instead of judge and scorn allowed me greater understanding of life and its beautifully woven intricacies. It’s October, yes; 10 months have passed, yes; but I finally feel the power of Oprah’s phrase:

” Life is NOT a spectator sport.”

Live it. Breathe it. Love it.