W. B. Yeats

Am suddenly thinking about this wonderful poem.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths,

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Unending Love

Was reading up on the life of Audrey Hepburn, and came across this lovely poem recited by Gregory Peck (her co-star in Roman Holiday) after her death.

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Unending Love

by Rabindranath Tagore

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,

That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,

It's ancient tale of being apart or together.

As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,

Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.

You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.

At the heart of time, love of one for another.

We have played along side millions of lovers,

Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,

the distressful tears of farewell,

Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you

The love of all man's days both past and forever:

Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.

The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -

And the songs of every poet past and forever.

(Translated by William Radice)

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What the Modern Woman Wants

I happened to stumble into this blog and read this piece of prize-winning essay written by a 15-year-old Singaporean student. All I can say is that I admire the young lady who authored this piece, but I salute the woman who raised this child.

I pinched the essay to share it here, so it is in no way mine.

*****

What the Modern Woman Wants...
By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind.

She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seat belt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance', 'Liquidation', 'Assets', 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it.

Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval......

'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in America . There have been a lot of problems.'

The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.

Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.

The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.

'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.'
Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'

Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.

'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'

The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof.

The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.

'Ma, I'll wait outside.. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods. 'Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want.

'She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man.

'Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says... She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

'What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.'

The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smoldering ashes.

She bowed once more. The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had ticked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.

Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted.

Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man. She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become.

A woman with 'neng kan '; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood.

She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu, old fashioned.... She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.
Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The Gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and now she stood faceless with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother's value. Her wants were so ephemeral, that of a modern woman. Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques and yet her daughter had not found true happiness. The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less.

When her daughter left the earth, everything she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter now that she had looked out of the temple gates. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one
way to go from there –down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshiping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid?

But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she enslaved to and worshiped every day of her life.

Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshiped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty souless shell at the altar.
The old woman watched the joss stick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing.

Modern woman nowadays, the old lady signed in resignation, as she bowed to the east bone a final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder whey they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face.

An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sown the seeds of happiness. They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not to fast as she had done before.

‘Ma,’ Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay us seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road . Once we move into our apartment, we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...'

The old woman nodded knowingly. Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out – but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang – it's a Christian home and a very nice one.'

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.
'I"ve been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! Hardly have time for you, you'd be happier
there. You'd be happier there, really.' her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.

This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offering to cling tightly to, she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag and her fingers trace the white seat.

'Ma,' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'

What had to be done, had to be done.
'Yes' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.

‘It's for you, Ma! You will be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.'

Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda. 'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier...

She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; money, status, career, love, power and now freedom without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down...

Yes she was free. Her phone butted urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear.

'Stock 10% increase.' Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her and while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible and she did not see her in tears.

*****

As it had always been

In the face of the recent horrifying earthquake and tidal waves that wrecked the east coast of Japan, my Facebook news feed was swamped with status updates of acquaintances that goes along the line of, "Life is fragile" or "If you were to die today, would you have any regrets?", and the like.

I wish we didn't need a catastrophe to come to the realization that life is fragile, as it had always been, always is and always will be. To make such statements would mean that we are taking life carelessly and for granted in every day and every moment of our lives.

Perhaps it is a common flaw amongst us to keep glancing back into the past and always staring too far into the future but never seeing the present we are living in the moment. If only we can see the fragility of the present at every single moment.

A Lonely Kind of Gentleness

I was walking to the train station today, absentmindedly drinking in the morning scenes in my neighbourhood.

The gentle quietness in the air, with many people still snuggled in their beds behind closed doors.

The gentle rays of the sun, still shy behind fluffy clouds, a quiet blessing of light in an early day.

The gentle breathe of morning breeze, taking some early birds to flight and rustling the evergreen leaves of sturdy canopy trees.

The gentle hum of the running train, an almost imperceptible interference to the tranquil silence.

In that quiet and seemingly serene morning, a lonely feeling crept up in me. Somehow, I get a feeling that this gentle morning will soon be lost in time, and I will not be seeing it again. It feels sad that we can walk by this beautiful morning everyday, unaware and untouched by its gentleness, until the day we lose it for good.

It's such a random feeling for such a pleasant day, but it is a lonely kind of gentleness.

Detached

Imagine there's this sharp blade that, some time ago, cuts deeply into your flesh and leaves a bloody wound and a hell of pain. With time, there left only a scar to remember by.

Then one day, you happened to pick up the same sharp blade. And intentionally stab the same scar, just to see how it feels.

There's no feeling.

No matter how you stab, there's no feeling.

It feels oddly...detached.

Wasn't it supposed to hurt like hell? It's strange to not feel the pain.

Have I come to be good at dealing with it?

Or have I become completely numbed by it?

It's just so strange to feel detached.

24 months

I don't know from when in my life, I seemed to have change the lens of how I look and feel about my everyday life. But I'm quite sure it happened some time in between the last 24 months.

I don't know what specifically brought about that shift in perspective. But I'm quite sure it is the people who walked in or out of my life between the last 24 months.

I don't know how the whole shift in perspective happened. But I'm quite sure it had been my being pushed to the brink, the collapse of my self, my refusal to be sucked into the depths of misery, my acceptance to flow with flaws instead of putting up a fight every single time, somewhere between the last 24 months.

It must have been some time between the last 24 months.

~みはる~

2010.

Another year end. Another one of these 'reflection' posts.

Sitting here, trying to recall what my last 356 days had been like, I reread my posts for the year-ends of previous years. I'm horrified and amused at the same time, seeing on print, the way I reflected at those years. Makes me a tad uncertain how I should do it this year.

2010. It's been a decade since the turn of the millennium. Seems like it had been such a long time, yet so quick time flies, it could have been yesterday we were worrying about the silly Y2K bug. For me, this ten years is probably the most meaningful ten years in my life so far. Standing at the end of 2010 looking back at the start of 2000, I don't think I have the vocabulary to succinctly describe the experience. As I run through the ten years, I do feel substantially aged, but somehow, feel like I am only beginning to understand what life really is. Perhaps I'm a slow learner, but I am only starting to grasp all that ten years worth of stuff life's been heaping on me. (yes, more than half my youth, I was in absolute daze.) It's been a mere ten years, but I have witnessed so many changes in and around me, I still can't quite fully fathom.

I stepped into 2000 a student, and step out of 2010 still a student, albeit a different kind of level. (oh no, this isn't good)

I stepped into 2000 with friends still in school uniforms and complaining about insane amount of homework, and step out of 2010 with friends in wedding gowns and complaining about insane financing needed to buy property and raise a child.

I stepped into 2000 immature, excited and naive about reaching adulthood, and step out of 2010 (hopefully) a little wiser, mellowed and wishing to relive my childhood.

If you were asked to describe the last ten years of your life, what would instantly come to mind? Being an emotional person, my instant association was the spectrum of emotions I had experienced. The laughters and happy times, the tears and sad times, the anger and frustrating times, the fear and despairing times... I find it amazing how, in retrospect, all of it becomes equally nostalgic; it's like they become the old photographs in the old photo album I am now flipping through. And these emotions, they link to the things I have done or experienced that are particularly memorable. So I look back at the 30 most memorable experiences of my 2010 (ten years is too difficult for my ageing brain to recall), and this is what my list is like:

1. My first 10km run in my personal record time of 1hr 12min 25s, which places me 1140th among 4186 women. Not bad for a debut!

2. Grocery shopping at midnight after drinking in a bar.

3. Drank 6 glasses of wine in a little more than an hour, and then somehow managed to get on a bus and walk a straight line to a French school to inquire about French courses, hopped on a bus to do grocery shopping and then somehow managed to walk safely home after transiting in train and bus again.

4. Cooked for a party of ten. Thrice.

5. Got my first Apple product, an iPhone4, on the day of its launching. (I'm never the gadget geek and I'm surprised I did that)

6. Scaled the Notre-Dame Cathedral for the most breathtaking view of Paris.

7. Scaled the Arc de Triomphe for the postcard view of Champs-Elysees.

8. Traveled to my third European country, Belgium, to have a Belgian tea of Belgian waffles and Belgian beer in a quaint Belgian town.

9. Climbed a medieval bell tower for a panoramic view of the UNESCO heritage town, Bruges.

10. Got tanned in (of all places) Paris.

11. Had homemade ratatouille from the fantastic chaucuterie in Montmatre. Madame's French comfort food is tres bien!

12. Tried Kir, a French cocktail, in Paris. Twice. Totally love it.

13. Watched Sir Simon Rattle and Berliner Philharmoniker live in concert.

14. Watched Tan Dun conduct the world premiere of his Violin Concerto with Singapore Symphony Orchestra.

15. Watched Joshua Bell play with Academy of St. Martin-in-the-fields. Twice.

16. Got an autograph and photograph with Joshua Bell. Very star-strucked.

17. Watched my first Broadway musical: Chicago. Fantastic!

18. Watched my first theater: Animal Farm. For a local production, I was impressed.

19. Had a taste of heartache.

20. Broken some treasured friendships.

21. Rediscovered old friendships.

22. Went kayaking and finished with very sunburnt feet.

23. Made a globe purely out of bacterial agar. And discovered that Bradford's reagent actually destabilizes agarose.

24. Drank 3 glasses of wine, stayed up all night chatting, after which went jogging at the break of dawn and then drinking again in a bar at night. (I hope mum never finds out)

25. Did a short stint of kickboxing classes.

26. A student declaring 'I love you!' to me... actually, for my classes.

27. A bunch of students confessing they missed me lots... actually, my classes.

28. Had chocolate pellets for a drink.

29. Walked Monet's iconic garden in Giverny.

30. Rediscovered the joy of spontaneity and unrestrained laughter with many friends who made much difference in my life.

I think I shall extend my list for 2011 with more memorable experiences.

Here's to a wonderful 2010 and a promising 2011.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

～みはる～

Brick wall & Ladder

A while ago, I was telling a friend how I think my life and learning experience is shaped by two equally important groups of people: first being my family, and second being my teachers and friends and even mere acquaintances. Although I may not be one to be quick to realize, I do feel very blessed to have so many life 'teachers' in the form of people I love (friends) and people I am not particularly fond of (not really enemies, but let's say, we don't see eye-to-eye).

However, sometimes I wonder how far friendships go. Don't get me wrong, I think friends are wonderful and friendships keep us cheerfully alive and even work magic in every possible dimension of our lives. But I think there are some things in life where friends can get you only that far; the rest of the journey you have to travel alone. Let me illustrate my thoughts in an analogy of a ladder and brick wall.

If life was a path lined with overgrown hedges and intersections forked at random intervals, then successes would be clearings with bright blooms lining your path, and setbacks would be solid brick walls that block your path from time to time. What problems could you have with a well-defined path and flowers blooming everywhere? (except if you're allergic to pollen, of course) It's the solid brick walls that gives us issues. It's solid stone in the middle of your way, for goodness sake, why wouldn't it be a problem? It's daunting and looks impossibly difficult to climb over. Well, if you're lucky, you get a rather low brick wall that you can, after much heaving and clawing, clamber over. If you're unlucky, you get this imposing brick wall where you can't tell where it ends, and there seems no chance of getting over it. But that darn wall is smack in the middle of your path, and there's no way continuing your journey unless you climb over this slab of stone.

You have a few options.

One, huddle at the foot of the wall and continuously bemoan your misfortune. ('Why do I get a super tall wall when others get such low walls?', 'I'm always unlucky. Why am I always unlucky?'...you get the idea.)

Two, turn back and go down where you came from, maybe until you reach the previous intersection and take another route. (but there's no guarantee that this alternative route is tall-wall-free.)

Three, find some way to climb over that damn wall.

Objectively speaking, I see the first option as the option of giving up (often, even before trying), and the second option as the option of escaping or denying difficulties. If we don't learn how to climb a tall wall, what's going to happen the next time we come across another tall wall? Turn back and escape again? The third option, would, rationally, epitomize the persevering and learning through difficulty option.

However, a tall wall is a tall wall. It's not easily clambered over. But against the wall, is a very tall ladder. Sometimes you may get a rickety, rotting ladder. Sometimes you're luckier, you get a sturdy ladder. Oh, and sometimes..? You get none. But there's no stopping you to make one. So, if you lean the ladder (rickety/solid/handmade) against the wall and start ascending, you would be making progress to overcome the tall wall. The rickety one may fail you sometimes, but it can also get you to some height (and you'll never know if it's high enough to jump over). And because you have the assistance of the ladder, you can begin to see the top of the wall and the possibility of climbing over it.

But, the ladder's just leaning against the wall. It doesn't conveniently throw you down the other side of the tall wall. If you're lucky, the ladder is taller than the wall, then you have extra support at the peak to hop over. If the ladder is a tad shorter than the wall, you'll have to clamber a little to get over the wall. Ultimately, you have to make the effort to pull yourself over the tall wall to the other side, where your path continues.

I see friends as the ladder. They are the wonderful help that elevates us to a position where we can perceive the possibility of overcoming difficult problems in life. We have really good friends, like the sturdy ladder, that becomes the solid support we rely on in difficult times. But we may have friends that are, well, a little more transient, just like the rickety ladder; but that don't mean they don't help or teach us anything. And sometimes, we probably have to make friends that can help us through tough times, just like the handmade ladder.

But ultimately, in all walls (i.e. problems) alike, the final effort have to be our very own. We have to climb over the top of the wall on our own. The ladder can't do it for us. That journey we have to make alone.

This whole analogy may sound strange, but it came to me when I was mulling over how much help I could extend to my friends when they are troubled with difficult problems in life. I felt I have done as much as I could, I wondered if I could do more. But I truly feel that while I can do much, there is still only so much I can do. The rest of the journey, they have to make it alone. I can't throw them over the brick wall; they have to propel themselves over. This is true as well when roles are reversed.

I simply believe that life is a culmination of our choices, and while we may have friendly support, we should keep in mind not to use it like a crutch and forget that we have to own up to our choices because ultimately, our very own will is what matters.

～みはる～

Stroll over ride

Living in a bustling city, I often forget the simple pleasures of slowing down a run to a walk. Although I try to refrain from perpetually rushing about, when immersed in a herd that's, well, perpetually rushing at a dizzying speed, I somehow naturally fall into the hectic pace as well. (It's all about efficiency here)

However, words of my wise friends are always at the back of my mind, reprimanding me from time to time to forgo rushing and just slow my pace. And so that was what happened this evening, as I got off work and headed to the track for a quick jog. I would usually walk about half a kilometre to the track, but as I got out of my building today, I saw a shuttle bus pulled to the bus stop about 10m away. Now, I could spend 10mins walking half a kilometre or sprint to the bus stop to catch a 2min bus ride to the track.

Repressing the urge to run to the bus, I turned away from the bus stop and started my walk towards the sports centre. And I was pleasantly rewarded. Dusk was darkening into night as clouds overcast the sky. It had just rained shortly before and the air was cool and refreshing. Streetlights flickered to life. The leaves on the upright trees stirred gently. A distant puddle splashed as a car drove by. Unconsciously, my pace slowed to a leisurely stroll. I breathed deeply and realized how I love being right here at this moment. And how fortunate it is that I had chosen not to ride with the bus.

I love the gentle breeze, not the blast of air-cond of the bus, in my face.

I love the wideness of overcast sky, not the narrow ceiling of bus, over my head.

I love the soft glow of the streetlamp, not the glare of fluorescent light, casting my shadow on the street.

I love the smell of after rain, not the stale air of the bus, in the air.

I love the chirp of crickets, not the din and chatter of people crowding the bus, echoing into the night.

By opting a stroll over a ride, I was rewarded ten full minutes of simple pleasures that is, in fact, omnipresent. I'm glad I slowed my run this evening to heed the stillness of mother nature.

Have you communed with nature today?

～みはる～

The Road Less Travelled

There once lived an American poet who wrote a poem that gave much to think about:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost (1874-1963)

And I wondered if it was an homage to the value of courage and curiosity when M. Scott Peck opted the book title 'The Road Less Travelled' for his writing 32 years ago.

Of the many books I've read, I think this is a rather unique one in terms of the response it evoked amongst readers. I was recommended to this brilliant writing by my friend, WW, whom I must really thank for sharing it with me. I would guess that WW found the ideas in the book insightful and thinking it would benefit me, recommended that I take time to read it. And I did. And because I found the ideas truly thought-provoking, I gifted it to another friend of mine, whom I believe will benefit from it. And she did. And she in turn gifted it to another friend of hers, whom she thought desperately needs the insights of the book. And he did. Believe it or not, my friend WW picked it up as a recommendation from her friend.

I think this continuous cycle of recommendation is a convincing testimony of how enormously helpful the ideas in this book are.

I believe the book appeals to many because it discusses a central theme we all share: life is a series of problems. Life is difficult because confronting and solving problems (depending how severe the problem) can be very painful. And because we fear this painful process, we attempt to avoid confronting problems, which ironically only results in greater pain.

In this book, Scott Peck proposed a rather sound argument to the psychology of our escapism, the discipline-or our lack of- to confront pain and our shortcomings, the fear of challenging our reality maps and belief systems, and the miracle of our unconscious. He also discussed the mystery of love, and I think he argued eloquently the idea of love versus dependency. He articulately defined love as, "The will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth." An entire section is dedicated to discussion of Love and its myths, misconceptions, and power - all of which I believe most, if not all, of us struggle with at certain points in our lives. Here's to give a very brief idea what he thinks love is and is not:

• Love is a strangely circular, evolutionary process.
• Love includes self-love with love for the other.
• Love is effortful, not effortless.
• Love is an act of will; we choose to love. 'Falling in love' is not real love because it is not a conscious choice.
• Dependency and self-sacrifice is not love, but antilove.
• Genuine love is self-replenishing.
• Love is separateness; the distinction between oneself and the other is always maintained and preserved because genuine love respects the unique individuality of the beloved.

The book also discussed the concept of grace, miracles, evil and laziness as the original sin. In essence, it methodologically defines the purpose, motivation, barriers and promises of spiritual growth. And I believe that we could all very well benefit from a deeper understanding of ourselves. I personally felt the book was not easy to read because it evokes a lot of self-examination (which most of us would prefer to conveniently avoid) and critical dissection of the beliefs I hold true thus far. Can you imagine coming to the realization all that you think is true and best, is not? At the same time, it is also comforting to know some of my thoughts and questions were affirmed on print by an experienced psychiatrist. It somehow makes the journey down the road less travelled less alone.

I felt compelled to blog on this book because I believe it had been a comfort to the few lives I know who've read it. And I wish to extend this recommendation to everyone with an interest or curiosity in spiritual growth. I believe when we've gained greater insight of ourselves and of life, it becomes easier for us to understand the pains of other people and be compassionate to them. And I think from there, we will be able to call out great courage from within ourselves to take the road less travelled.

So, do go ahead, pick it up and enjoy a good reading =)

～みはる～

Berliner Philharmoniker

I just came back from one of the best orchestra concerts I've attended in my life.


Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra is here in town to play for the first time. Under the baton of Sir Simon Rattle, they are performing 2 nights of classical music, and I had the privilege to attend the first night.

I'm still speechless from the concert. Plainly because my mind was blown away, and has yet to quite return. The quality of performance was just... this whole other level. The music was (naturally) brilliant, but what made the performance very enjoyable was the musicians and the conductor. Especially the flautists, oboists, bassoonists and violinists, they looked like they were thoroughly enjoying playing in their own happy world. And Sir Simon Rattle was... let's just say, now I know why he's been highly recommended.

The programme tonight was:
• Hadyn's Symphony No.99 in E-flat Major (Hob.1/99)
• Berg's Three Pieces for Orchestra Op.6 (1929 version)
• Brahms' Symphony No.2 in D Major Op.73

My favourite had to be Brahms' Symphony. Already I am a fan of Brahms, and Berliner had to play the symphony so flawlessly, I was starry-eyed throughout the entire piece. The dynamics and the energy was simply... brilliant. Sir Simon Rattle graciously obliged to an encore, of which I do not know the name of the song, but I can only say it was fantastic!

After a Berliner experience, classical concerts will never be the same again. (well, Academy of St. Martin-In-The-Fields was awesome too, but Berliner is still a notch up...) I'm so grateful to be granted this once-in-a-lifetime experience!

Now let me go gather my mind blown-away....

～みはる～

Buddhism and Modern Science

Came across this very curious article.

**********

Buddhism, the only real science

by Venerable Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera

I used to be a scientist. I did Theoretical Physics at Cambridge University, hanging out in the same building as the later-to-be-famous Professor Stephen Hawking. I became disillusioned with such science when, as an insider, I saw how dogmatic some scientists could be. A dogma, according to the dictionary, is an arrogant declaration of an opinion.

This was a fitting description of the science that I saw in the labs of Cambridge. Science had lost its sense of humility. Egotistical opinion prevailed over the impartial search for Truth. My favourite aphorism from that time was: "The eminence of a great scientist, is measured by the length of time that they OBSTRUCT PROGRESS in their field"!

To understand real science, one can go back to one of its founding fathers, the English philosopher Francis Bacon (1561 - 1628). He established the framework on which science was to progress, namely "the greater force of the negative instance".

This meant that, having proposed a theory to explain some natural phenomenon, then one should try one's best to disprove it! One should test the theory with challenging experiments. One must put it on trial with rigorous argument.

When a flaw appears in the theory, only then does science advance. A new discovery has been made enabling the theory to be adjusted and refined. This fundamental and original methodology of science understood that it is impossible to prove anything with absolute certainty. One can only disprove with absolute certainty.

For example, how can one prove the basic law of gravity that "what goes up comes down, eventually"? One may throw objects up one million times and see them fall one million times. But that still does not prove "what goes up comes down".

For NASA might then 'throw' a Saturn rocket up into space to explore Mars, and that never comes down to earth again. One negative instance is enough to disprove the theory with absolute certainty.

Some misguided scientists maintain the theory that there is no rebirth, that this stream of consciousness is incapable of returning to a successive human existence. All one needs to disprove this theory, according to science, is to find one instance of rebirth, just one!

Professor Ian Stevenson, as some of you would know, has already demonstrated many instances of rebirth. The theory of no rebirth has been disproved. Rebirth is now a scientific fact!

Modern science gives a low priority to any efforts to disprove its pet theories. There is too much vested interest in power, prestige and research grants. A courageous commitment to truth takes too many scientists out of their comfort zone.

Scientists are, for the most part, brainwashed by their education and their in-group conferences to see the world in a very narrow, microscopic, way. The very worst scientists are those who behave like eccentric evangelists, claiming that they alone have the whole truth, and then demanding the right to impose their views on everyone else.

Ordinary people know so little about science that they can hardly even understand the jargon.

Yet, if they read in a newspaper or magazine "a scientist says that?", then they automatically take it to be true. Compare this to our reaction when we read in the same journal "a politician says that?"! Why do scientists have such unchallenged credibility?

Perhaps it is because the language and ritual of science has become so far removed from the common people, that scientists have become today's revered and mystical priesthood.

Dressed in their ceremonial white lab coats, chanting incomprehensible mumbo jumbo about multi-dimensional fractal parallel universes, and performing magical rituals that transubstantiate metal and plastic into TVs and computers, these modern day alchemists are so awesome we'll believe anything they say. Elitist science, as once was the Pope, is now infallible.

Some know better. Much of what I learnt 30 years ago has now been proved wrong. There are, fortunately, many scientists with integrity and humility who affirm that science is, at best, a work still in progress.

They know that science can only suggest a truth, but can never claim a truth. I was once told by a Buddhist G.P. that, on his first day at a medical school in Sydney, the famous Professor, head of the Medical School, began his welcoming address by stating "Half of what we are going to teach you in the next few years is wrong. Our problem is that we do not know which half it is!" Those were the words of a real scientist.

Some evangelical scientists would do well to reflect on the (amended) old saying "Scientists rush in where angels fear to tread" and stop pontificating about the nature of the mind, happiness and even Nirvana. Neurologists are especially prone to such neuroses (Neurosis: an undue adherence to unrealistic ideas of things).

They are claiming that the mind, awareness and will, is now adequately explained by activity in the brain. This theory was disproved over 20 years ago by Prof. Lorber's discovery of the student at Sheffield University with an IQ of 126, a First Class degree in mathematics, but with virtually no brain (Science, Vol. 210, 12 Dec 1980)!

More recently, it was disproved by Prof. Pim Van Lommel, who demonstrated the existence of consciousness activity after clinical death, i.e. when all brain activity has ceased (Lancet, Vol. 358, 15 December 2001, p 2039).

Although there may be correlation between a measurable activity in part of the brain and a mental impression, such co-occurrence doesn't always imply that one is the cause of the other. For instance, some years ago, research showed a clear correlation between cigarette smoking and the non-occurrence of Alzheimer's disease.

It was not that smoking cigarettes somehow caused immunity from Alzheimer's, as much as the tobacco companies might have wished, it was only that many smokers did not live long enough to get Alzheimer's disease!

Thus a co-incidence of two phenomena, even when repeated, does not mean that one phenomenon is the cause of the other. To claim that activity in the brain causes awareness, or mind, is plainly unscientific.

Buddhism is more scientific than modern science. Like science, Buddhism is based on verifiable cause-and-effect relationships. But unlike science, Buddhism challenges with thoroughness every belief.

The famous Kalama Sutta of Buddhism states that one cannot believe fully in "what one is taught, tradition, hearsay, scripture, logic, inference, appearance, agreement with established opinion, the seeming competence of a teacher, or even in one's own teacher".

How many scientists are as rigorous in their thinking as this? Buddhism challenges everything, including logic.

It is worth noting that Quantum Theory appeared quite illogical, even to such great scientists as Einstein, when it was first proposed. It is yet to be disproved. Logic is only as reliable as the assumptions on which it is based. Buddhism trusts only clear and objective experience.

Clear experience occurs when one's measuring instruments, one's senses, are bright and undisturbed. In Buddhism, this happens when the hindrances of sloth-and-torpor and restlessness-and-remorse are both overcome. Objective experience is that which is free from all bias.

In Buddhism, the three types of bias are desire, ill will and sceptical doubt. Desire makes one see only what one wants to see, it bends the truth to fit one's preferences. Ill will makes one blind to whatever is disturbing or disconcerting to one's views and it distorts the truth by denial.

Sceptical doubt stubbornly refuses to accept those truths, like rebirth, that are plainly valid but which fall outside of one's comforting worldview.

In summary, clear and objective experience only happens when the Buddhist 'Five Hindrances' have been overcome. Only then can one trust the data arriving through one's senses.

Because scientists are not free of these five hindrances, they are rarely clear and objective. It is common, for example, for scientists to ignore annoying data, which do not fit their cherished theories, or else confine such evidence to oblivion by filing it away as an 'anomaly'.

Even most Buddhists aren't clear and objective. One has to have recent experience of Jhana to effectively put aside these five hindrances (according to the Nalakapana Sutta , Majjhima No. 68). So only accomplished meditators can claim to be real scientists, that is, clear and objective.

Science claims to rely not only on clear and objective observation, but also on measurement. But what is measurement in science? To measure something, according to the pure science of Quantum Theory, is to collapse the Schroedinger Wave Equation through an act of observation.

Moreover, the "un-collapsed" form of the Schroedinger Wave Equation, that is before any measurement is made, is, perhaps, science's most perfect description of the world.

That description is weird! Reality, according to pure science, does not consist of well-ordered matter with precise massed, energies and positions in space, all just waiting to be measured. Reality is the broadest of smudges of all possibilities, only some being more probable than others.

Even basic 'measurable' qualities as 'alive' or 'dead' have been demonstrated by science to be invalid sometimes. In the notorious 'Schroedinger's Cat' thought experiment, Prof. Schroedinger's cat was ingeniously placed in a real situation where it was neither dead nor alive, where such measurements became meaningless. Reality, according to Quantum Theory, is beyond measurements. Measuring disturbs reality, it never describes it perfectly.

It was Heisenberg's famous 'Uncertainty Principle' that showed the inevitable error between the real Quantum world and the measured world of pseudo-science.

Anyway, how can anyone measure the measurer, the mind? At a recent seminar on Science and Religion, at which I was a speaker, a Catholic in the audience bravely announced that whenever she looks through a telescope at the stars, she feels uncomfortable because her religion is threatened.

I commented that whenever a scientist looks the other way round through a telescope, to observe the one who is watching, then they feel uncomfortable because their science is threatened by what is doing the seeing! So what is doing the seeing, what is this mind that eludes modern science?

A Grade-One teacher once asked her class "What is the biggest thing in the world?" One little girl answered "My daddy". A little boy said "An elephant", since he'd recently been to the zoo. Another girl suggested "A mountain".

The six-year-old daughter of a close friend of mine replied, "My eye is the biggest thing in the world"! The class stopped. Even the teacher didn't understand her answer. So the little philosopher explained "Well, my eye can see her daddy, an elephant, and a mountain too. It can also see so much else. If all of that can fit into my eye, then my eye must be the biggest thing in the world." Brilliant!

However, she was not quite right. The mind can see everything that one's eye can see, and it can also imagine so much more. It can also hear, smell, taste and touch, as well as think. In fact, everything that can be known can fit into the mind. Therefore, the mind must be the biggest thing in the world. Science's mistake is obvious now. The mind is not in the brain, nor in the body. The brain, the body and the rest of the world, are in the mind!

Mind is the sixth sense in Buddhism, it is that which encompasses the five senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch, and transcends them with its own domain. It corresponds loosely to Aristotle's "common sense" that is distinct from the five senses.

Indeed, ancient Greek philosophy, from where science is said to have its origins, taught six senses just like Buddhism. Somewhere along the historical journey of European thinking, they lost their mind! Or, as Aristotle would put it, they somehow discarded their "common sense"! And thus we got science. We got materialism without any heart. One can accurately say that Buddhism is science that has kept its heart, and which hasn't lost its mind!

Thus Buddhism is not a belief system. It is a science founded on objective observation, i.e. meditation, ever careful not to disturb the reality through imposing artificial measurements, and it is evidently repeatable.

People have been re-creating the experimental conditions, known as establishing the factors of the Noble Eightfold Path, for over twenty-six centuries now, much longer than science. And those renowned Professors of Meditation, the male and female Arahants, have all arrived at the same conclusion as the Buddha.

They verified the timeless Law of Dhamma, otherwise known as Buddhism. So Buddhism is the only real science, and I'm happy to say that I'm still a scientist at heart, only a much better scientist than I ever could have been at Cambridge.

Courtesy: Buddhist Society of Western Australia.

**********

Affirmation

Everyone needs a little affirmation sometimes.

Or so, I realized.

We often neglect how a little trust in the character, a little believe in the capacity and a little faith in the good heart of another person can be of great inspiration and comfort to them. Sometimes, very simple words such as, "I believe in you" is all that it is needed to give them the confidence to soar past their limits.

I learnt this watching a colleague of mine struggling through numerous cycles of highs and (very) lows in her life. I watched how she took unpleasant words like knife into her flesh, and when she confided in me, tears would flow and I could feel her pain burning and her yearning for affirmation. I could only watch helplessly and bolster her morally because it is not I who can give her the affirmation she needs. It makes me wonder why can't people do a little kindness and give a little affirmation once in a while.

It wouldn't cost a penny, right?

Yet, it would mean more than anything to the person at the receiving end.

～みはる～

Do you care?

A thought struck me while I was idly thinking in the past few days.

Have you ever been in a position where you discussed a certain problem with another person (say, X), contemplated on the source of the problem, debated at length on the solutions, agreed on the changes that could overcome the problem, and then left standing at the frustrated end when the changes do not come to fruition? And then you question, why is it that when you are putting in effort and time to make the change, X isn't doing the equal amount (or at least, a bit) of work necessary? And as these thoughts revolve in your mind several more times, annoyance builds into anger then escalates into resentment, which distorts your perception thus leading to miscommunication and greater misunderstanding, heralding greater conflict.

It seems to me, one word explains it all: care.

Does X care about the issue enough to make a move at all?

Why do you care about the issue, enough to demand action for change?

Perhaps this is obvious, but in the direction of progress and development, work is necessary to overcome the force of entropy that continually drives us towards disorder or, dis-progress and dis-development (if such words do exist). And work is... let's face it - given a choice, most people wouldn't want to work when they can just sit back and relax. It's going against the tide, not with the flow. It demands huge activation energy (in chemical terms).

And I figured, that unless we care about something deeply enough only will we discipline ourselves to work - to concentrate our focus and energy to climb over that hill of activation energy and resist the force of entropy. We need to care strongly enough to persist past brickwall after brickwall that stands in our way for the pot of gold we set sights on.

I realized that we all don't care the same. More often than not, we are not at the same page. Just because I cared about the problem and the need to change doesn't mean X cared as much. We all have different levels of caring, apparently. So then, the question:

Why do I care?

Because I do.

It dawned on me that sometimes, we just have no explanation to why certain things resonate so deeply within us. But if we care, then let that sincere part of us motivate our actions. We want to do the work, to jump over that brickwall. We do not have to wait for X's work because we care enough to effect the change, and that is sufficient to start. It does not matter then, that X don't work because now we know, they don't care. It'd be great if they do, but even if they don't, it won't discount the fact that we do.

I think this notion applies to every aspect of our lives: personal, work, community or society. I came to reflect on it when I was watching Jamie Oliver's TED Prize Wish. I was inspired by his fiery passion and conviction for the cause that he was fighting for. But it was these words in his speech that resonated deeply in my conscience:

"And all I can say is I care."

Do you care?

～みはる～

Note to self

Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.

- Charles Dickens

They just don't change

It disappoints me deeply that some people just don't change. After all that has been said and done, they just don't change. Did they really think things will be different if they just sit around and wait for change to happen?

I feel terribly let down.
How very disappointing.

~みはる~

Not this auntie

The concept of subtlety is not very popular. Or so, I observed.

You see, I was queuing at a check-out counter of a grocery store several days ago. In line behind me was a middle-aged mom. (I'd give her, late 30s. Okay, maybe early 30s, but she looks older. Okay, I'm indignant. She pressed my wrong buttons. Hmph.)

She had a little boy with her, probably about 2-3 years old. Very cute, tottering about with a box of biscuits in his hands. Smart Boy apparently had grasped the idea that he needs to check-out and pay for the box of biscuits before he can eat them, but not quite with the idea of queuing to make the payment. So, mom repeatedly admonish the little chap, "No, boy, you need give it to auntie first. Come, give me, we need to give auntie the biscuits first."

Tottering somewhere beside me, Smart Boy looked up at me, and held out the box of biscuits. "Aww, so cute"...was what I would have said, if not for mom, who very quickly snapped at the kid, "Not this auntie, that cashier auntie."

That was, like, right in my face. Not very subtle.

I am amused.

Maybe age is catching up faster than I would have liked. Sigh.

～みはる～

Irony

So, there I was on a Sunday afternoon, trawling my favourite bookstore and doing this not very nice thing of reading (not buying!) a book in a bookstore. The title that caught my eye today was 'Things I Wish I'd Known Before We Got Married' by Gary Chapman, the man behind the concept of 5 love languages. Why that title caught my interest warrants a whole new post, and let's just content with random curiosity for the time being.

What was impressionable in my visit there today is not so much the book, but what I happened to observe in my surroundings while reading that book. So I was hidden amongst mounds of books in the 'Family & Relationships' aisle, reading, when a couple approached the rack next to me - apparently in search for a book along this genre. The man was pushing a pram and the woman, looking very pregnant, had a 5-6 year old in hand. Without even looking up, I could sense a little negative tension in the air between them as they browse; the woman repeatedly and impatiently telling the restless young boy to not yank her hold.

Okay, blame me for being judgmental, but the first thought that ran through my head was, 'Why is a couple with 3 children looking for books in this section?'. Then again, I'm an advocate of life long learning, so I thought perhaps they are looking for ideas to enhance their family life. (yes, I am rather naive) Brilliant, I thought.

As they moved along the aisle, an exchange between the husband and wife got me a little disturbed. I'm guessing he's not one with a sweet-temper, because he became rather quickly frustrated when they couldn't find the book they were looking for. He then started hurtling expletives at her, RIGHT IN FRONT OF his son. "Why didn't you f***king..... You are making me pissed off.... No, you are getting pissy here... F***...". The woman retaliated, although without vulgarities. I glanced up (not wishing to stare, thinking it would be quite rude), and saw the boy was watching the 18-PG verbal volley between mum and dad in silence. This went back and forth a couple more times before they angrily strode off.

I felt very sad for the boy, for I believe marital conflict should never be displayed in this manner in front of young children. Yes, no marriage is perfect and conflicts are part of the package, but I don't think it's ever right to play out this kind of conflict in front of impressionable young minds. It's not difficult to conceive why more and more people develop psychosomatic disorders rooted in bad childhood experiences, isn't it? I wondered if the couple had any idea what may be the grave consequences on the boy as a result of their exchange today.

I couldn't help but felt resigned at the irony of the entire scenario.

The book I was reading is probably targeted at them, not me.

The population who should be reading this book, is not picking it up.

～みはる～

The glass is half full

It's been a while since I last (properly) updated this blog. A lot has happened within the last 4 months or so. Many changes externally and internally. But then again, change is constant!

First, as per my annual ritual, had to uproot....again. Landlords were moving back here and wanted to reclaim their house. Although it should not be new by now, had to call numerous agents (I stopped remembering their names already, just went by the district and block number of the apartment units they offered) and schedule viewing appointments, bla bla bla. However, there was a deeper problem under these routine stuff we (as housemates) were facing - there wasn't an explicitly unanimous decision on the location of the new unit, or even the housemate arrangement. This was further muddied by other side issues, and to summarize, things got slightly unpretty at one point and it ended with us going on separate ways.

On one hand, it was rather difficult for me because that move was as good as walking out on a partnership all of us have built for a couple of years now. But on the other hand, I really needed to walk out and move on; it was liberating to throw out excess baggage. It was hardly easy, but I mustered enough strength to turn my back and walk towards a brighter place; although I wished it didn't end with such sour aftertaste.

I do thank my former housemates for the lessons and experiences they gave me. It is priceless. But I'm glad to have moved on.

Second, I think I have been on an eventful emotional rollercoaster ride for more than a year now. Oh wait, I'm always on a rollercoaster ride. What's different this time, is that I took a proactive role in dissecting my problem and implementing solutions. Over the 12 months or so, I read really insightful books, listened to great people speak, had meaningful conversations, meet admirable individuals... I made effort to pay attention to lessons that I can and have to learn from each of these encounters. I was (and still is) constantly on self-reflection. I felt the importance of connecting with people, directly or indirectly. I was reassured of my capabilities, my potential, and my motive to be as enduringly compassionate as I can be. This was particularly important to me, because I find it difficult to champion compassion in a cynical community. It was enormously reassuring to know that some great people share my ideals. Thanks to this healthy progress of personal development, I am now discovering and (perhaps) attempting to realize my purpose on this little planet called Earth.

It does feel good to have focus in life.

Apart from that, I have been kept busy with a vacation in Europe (yes, a 2nd under a year. They say good stuff comes in 3s... when's my 3rd trip to Europe coming??!), scientific collaboration with a Canadian veteran scientist, catching up with old friends, awesome music concerts, chillout sessions,movies... it's been great since I stopped looking the proverbial glass as half empty and view it as half full.

I'm blessed!

～みはる～

Benign email

Heartache, I realized, does not necessarily go away with time.

Perhaps the sharp edges of pain becomes dull over time, but at the pull of a wrong trigger, it can hurtle you back into the unpleasant ride of limbic rollercoaster. Leaves a really bad aftertaste.

I should have done a clean sweep and left no broken shards. But I didn't.

And now, it looks like it will hurt a lot to yank out the remaining shard.

What a random revelation. And all it took was a benign email.

Sandcastles

At the end of the day, you'll find the concrete you painstakingly laid disintegrates into sand, leaving nothingness just as when you began.

Have you ever built a sandcastle?
You know when you put in a lot of effort to create a solid fort and dedicated a lot of time to carve the beautiful details, and with all your heart and patience, worked to materialize the castle in your mind's eye?

And how it feels when a humongous wave crashes to shore, smashing your painstaking effort into smithereens, leaving nothing behind? All your time and dedication in exchange for nothing.

Of late, I get that feeling a lot. Everything I gave, all the time spent giving, was exchanged for nothing.

I must have been a fool building sandcastles.

～みはる～

Cell Block Tango

I found the Cell Block Tango from Chicago The Movie on Youtube!

Warning: Not suitable for kids under 18.



～みはる～

Arts Festival - Movie and Theatre

I'm on a little Arts Festival of my own. This is a brief account of my movie and theatre festival so far.

Animal Farm

I watched this play under the recommendation of my colleague, who is quite a fan of theatre and plays. Though initially hesitant (tickets were not cheap!), I am so glad I went for this play because it is fantastic for a local production. I was delightfully surprised and entertained by all the 'animals'. The actors were truly fantastic and world class.

Based on the novella of the same name by George Orwell, the play was hilarious yet thought-provoking. (find out more about Animal Farm here.) Props and sound were minimal but the actors shone in their act. I was thoroughly entertained.

Two thumbs up from me!


Chicago

It was my delight to be able to watch one of the greatest musical productions of all time. Chicago, one of the longest running broadway ever, was here and I had the luck to watch it, from a very good seat!!

I'm doing injustice to merely describe this musical as brilliant, sexy, exhilarating or impressive. It was just... awesome. The songs were brilliant, the actors were brilliant, the music was brilliant, the story was brilliant, it was just... awesome.

Chicago tells about the trials of two murderesses, Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly, who were represented by the smooth-talking lawyer Billy Flynn, to a background of the Prohibition-era Chicago. (learn more about Chicago here) It is a dark story of murder, adultery, deception, violence, and corruption fantastically played out to a medley of jazz, swing and tango. I must say the actors were just astoundingly brilliant. Sharon Millerchip as Roxie Hart and Deone Zanotto as Velma Kelly were simply awesome. The remaining cast members were just as brilliant in their supporting roles. And oh, the costumes! Skimpy, tight, black and sexy, it set the tone of the story perfectly right.

My favorite scene from the show had to be the 'Cell Block Tango'. About 6-7 ladies imprisoned for their crimes wailed and lashed in anger and indignation of how they were 'wrongfully punished' for their crime (i.e. murder). It was dark yet funny at the same time. Fantastic!

Chicago is a highly recommended musical for anyone interested in theatre and play.
Two thumbs up from me!


Ice Kacang Puppy Love (初恋红豆冰)

I'm very glad I caught this on cinema. Ice Kacang Puppy Love is Malaysian singer Aniu's directorial debut and it is the embodiment of how every Malaysian movie should be. Perhaps it is that I come from the same generation as Aniu and thus I share his sentiments, but I could understand everything that he wanted to convey in his movie - the quaintness of kampung life, the bittersweet memory of your first crush, the struggles of vivacious young people trying to make a mark for themselves,.. everything. Somehow it makes me feel connected: the guli games we played, the sweltering kopitiam our grandparents dragged us to, the I-don't-friend-you-anymore childishness each and every one of us went through in our school days, the blue school pinafores,... the lost of our innocence as we leave the idyllic cocoon of our childhood in kampung for the bustling city and modern adulthood.

What I love most about the movie is the cinematography and the music. The angle of capturing coupled with the right music at the right time itself created the nostalgy that Aniu wants to bring across. So powerful was it that some scenes evoked feelings and brought tears to my eyes.

Of course it goes without saying the star-studded all-Malaysian cast was brilliant, as was the choice of filming location. My hometown went on silverscreen! I must also say, that the story, while not entirely awesome, is very nicely written with all relationships delicately interwoven and perfectly balanced in melodrama and humor. I also liked that Aniu gave his film a very Malaysian flavor, with the potpourri of different cultures and dialects spoken. It is, in short, a fantastic local film qualified for international film festival!

To top it off, the theme song, performed by Aniu, is a cover of an old song written and produced by a former local artiste. I preferred Aniu's version because his voice quality and music arrangement alone could blanket me in melancholy.

Totally recommended for all Malaysians. Two thumbs up!

纯文艺恋爱
(初恋红豆冰電影主題曲)

你是汹涌的海浪 我是疲惫的沙滩
暖暖的斜阳 吊在我们的肩膀
你 用醉人的眼波 拴住恋爱的绳索
那么痴迷 那么绮丽

你轻轻柔柔的细述着槟城下的雨
淋湿你的长发几十年来抹也抹不去
啊 我会慢慢的想起 几十年都不会忘记

轻轻的为你唱首歌 几十年的歌
靠在你的背后
紧紧握着你的右手 慢慢的教你写首诗
要 你记着我的事
当你孤孤单单的时候我要继续为你唱出这首歌

～みはる～

In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?

I came across this article, which I felt is a great food for thought.

(disclaimer: I do not own this writing, it is reproduced from this site.)

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A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule. A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk. A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3-year-old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing in cognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experiment could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

In 2007, Washington Post writer Gene Weingarten enlisted renowned violinist Joshua Bell, a winner of the Avery Fisher Prize for outstanding achievement in classical music who regularly undertakes over 200 international engagements a year, to spend part of a morning playing in cognito at the entrance of a Washington Metro station during a morning rush hour. Weingarten set up the event "as an experiment in context, perception and priorities - as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

So, on 12 January 2007, morning commuters passing through the L'Enfant Plaza Station of the subway line in Washington DC were, without publicity, treated to a free mini-concert performed by violin virtuoso Joshua Bell, who played for approximately 45 minutes, performing six classical pieces during that span on his handcrafted 1713 Stradivarius violin (for which Bell reportedly paid $3.5 million). As Weingarten described the crux of the experiment:

"Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he's really bad? What if he's really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn't you? What's the moral mathematics of the moment?"

～みはる～