2011

Time flies.

 

It's unbelievable how time seemed to have sneaked past me unnoticed. Twelve Gregorian months over in a blink of an eye and here we are again - between the end of the year and the beginning of another. 

A great deal had happened this year, but I still cannot quite grasp it all. So many things occurred so quickly, the significance of all the events probably have not quite sink in yet.

For me, 2011 will be archived along the other years that are remembered for the novel experiences I deeply cherish. 

It is a year I struggled through incredible highs and lows in writing up my doctoral dissertation. I had many lessons on scientific writing, deadlines and expectations, as well as mental and emotional strength and how friendly support can tide one miserable graduate student through the worst of times.

It is a year I discovered that having someone special does make the days seem a lot lovelier than they really are. I had a taste of growing in a relationship with someone and re-learned the notion of trust and was pleasantly rewarded with many memorable experiences.

It is a year I learnt to appreciate the present. Many incidences highlighted the impermanence of the past, the unpredictability of the future and the fragility of the present. While I do not subscribe to submission to fate, I am not arrogant either to believe we are invulnerable to fate. So, today is what I have, and I want to appreciate every present moment like it will be my last. 

It's been a year full of memorable experiences. I love 2011 for all the good and the bad, and am looking forward to an exciting 2012 ahead.

Cheers to a happy new year!

Sunshine in a bunch

How someone cheered up my day with 5 daisies, 5 roses and 2 ladybirds. Sunshine in a bundle!

It's funny how from simple things...

...the best things begin.

How Shakespearean are you?

Saw this awesome entry on the phrases we owe to The Bard. It's amazing how much hand he has in our everyday communication.

How Shakespearean are you? Find out here.

花なんだ

花が咲こうと咲くまいと生きていることが花なんだ。

~アントニオ猪木

This too will pass

One of the most priceless of teachings that helps with depression, is also one of the simplest. But teachings that seem simple are easy to misunderstand. Only when we are finally free from depression can we claim to have truly understood the following story.

The new prisoner was afraid and very depressed. The stone walls of his cell soaked up any warmth; the hard iron bars sneered at all compassion; the jarring collision of steel, as many gates closed, locked hope beyond reach. His heart sank as low as his sentence stretched long. On the wall, by the head of his cot, he saw scratched in stone the following words:

THIS TOO WILL PASS.

These words pulled him through, as they must have supported the prisoner before him. No matter how hard it got, he would look at the inscription and remember, 'This too will pass.' On the day he was released, he knew the truth of those words. His time was completed; jail too had passed.

As he regained his life, he often thought about the message, writing it on bits of paper to leave by his bedside, in his car and at work. Even when times were bad, he never got depressed. He simply remembered, 'This too will pass', and struggled on through. The bad times never seemed to last all that long. Then when good times came he enjoyed them, but never too carelessly. Again he remembered, 'This too will pass', and so carried on working at his life, taking nothing for granted. The good times always seemed to last uncommonly long.

Even when he got cancer, 'This too will pass' gave him hope. Hope gave him strength and the positive attitude to beat the disease. One day the specialist confirmed that 'the cancer too had passed'.

At the end of his days, on his death bed, he whispered to his loved ones, 'This too will pass', and settled easily into death. His words were his last gift of love to his family and friends. They learned from him that 'grief too will pass'.

Depression is a prison that many of us pass through. 'This too will pass' helps us pull through. It also avoids one of the great causes of depression, which is taking the happy times too much for granted.

- Ajahn Brahm

Happy Friday

Woke up to pink tulips in full bloom, cheering up my room.



Thanks to someone, it's a happy Friday!

Love's gift

Love's gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted.

- Rabindranath Tagore

The depth and tenderness of that quote struck me deeply as I witnessed an old friend taking a ceremonious step into married life.

It's strange to watch someone you have known for over two decades standing there in front, vowing to stay with another person for life. Not weird-strange. Just, happy-strange. Tender-strange, maybe.

It's like, we were once carefree, innocent children, running around screaming and playing without a care for the world. The laughter, the mischief, the tantrums, the tears, the hugs, the childlike wonder.

And now, we are carefree children no longer. We do not run around screaming and playing anymore. No more mischief, tantrums, carefree world. We are adults, bounded by responsibilities, burden, worries, problems of the world.

But when I am with her, I seem to forget we are adults with heavy burdens. She is still the same carefree innocent friend I used to play with over 20 years ago. My time stopped there with her; we are still two 7-year-olds running around with childlike wonder.

And as I watched her standing there, hand-in-hand with the love of her life, I feel so much joy my heart can't contain. My eyes brimmed with tears of happiness. I am still filled with childlike wonder, at my carefree innocent friend getting married. I am just so happy she found someone to share her life with. The beautiful glow on my friend's face today taught me one thing:

"Love's gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted."

Congratulations, Grace. I wish you an everlasting and blessed married life!

I silently asked

I looked at her and I silently asked,

"Is this what life does to you?"


The many lines on her once youthful face and the extinguished light in her once bright eyes answered my silent question.


～みはる～

Reframing perspectives

We all live our lives as if we are immortals, don't you think so?

There is so much we need and want to do, there's never enough time in a day to do all of them. And so, we plan for them to be done tomorrow and in the future.

I will take my child to that playground tomorrow, after I get this budget done.

I will bring my mother for that medical examination next week, after I submit this job proposal.

I will make that call to my friend next month, after I complete this project for this important client.

With so much to be done, we are always on a constant chase for time and so are almost perpetually stressed, agitated, calloused, and sometimes unreasonably demanding on the people around us and on ourselves.

Can't you wait patiently, I said I will take you to that playground tomorrow!

Why are you so selfish, can't you see my work is more important than that routine check up of yours?

I haven't got time to call you, my client needs this blueprint this week, and no, I can't spend an hour chatting with you, my every minute is worth more than gold.

But what if we don't have tomorrow, next week, or next month? What if all that we have is only today and now?

We put things off into the future because we all know our expiry date is sometime in the distant future. So distant that it seems like forever far; it gives the illusion of us being immortals. Not just us, but also the people around us.

But life do not always go according to plan. Things can happen to throw life off track. And sometimes remind us that our expiry date may be a lot nearer than we'd like to believe, that it's not in the far distant future.

When faced with that fact, that we are mortals and could well be gone in a blink of an eye, we start questioning what is important in our lives. What matters to us most, today and now?

Seeing the smiles of the people I like matters to me.

Hearing the voice of the people I care matters to me.

Holding the people I love matters to me.

Listening to kind words matter to me.

Sharing a joke or sad news with someone matters to me.

Feeling the warmth of the sun and the gentleness of the breeze matters to me.

Breathing in the air, wriggling my fingers, looking at the blue sky, listening to laughter, smelling the floral fragrance matters to me.

They matter to me because they tell me I'm blessed to be still alive when many are not.

They matter to me because they tell me I'm blessed to be still loved when many are not.

Many things do not matter anymore when faced with our mortality.

Reframe your perspectives.

What matters to you, today and now?

Classic favourite

It's been more than 10 years, but it's still one of my all time favourites.

Simple yet classic.

Everyday I Love You

by Boyzone

I don't know, but I believe

That some things are meant to be

And that you'll make a better me

Everyday I love you

I never thought that dreams came true

But you showed me that they do

You know that I learn something new

Everyday I love you

'Cause I believe that destiny

is out of our control

(Don't you know that I do)

And you'll never live until you love

With all your heart and soul

It's a touch when I feel bad

It's a smile when I get mad

All the little things I am

Everyday I love you

If I asked would you say yes?

Together we're the very best

I know that I am truly blessed

Everyday I love you

And I'll give you my best

Everyday I love you

Choco-holic!

Thanks to someone thoughtful, my rough week ended on a sweet note because of these chocolates that feed the choco-holic in me!

Morbid curiosity

It took several recommendations before I reluctantly clicked the link to play this song.

Initially, I thought it was overrated. I mean, many people I know were so moved by the rendition it seemed rather exaggerated to me. When I first heard the song, I wasn't in the best mood or frame of mind. In fact, I was feeling very hungry and deprived of lunch. The song left me wondering why people are raving about it.

Then, today, left alone in the office, I listened to the song again. Then I realized why I might have been reluctant to sample the song in the first place.

I think I was afraid it would uncover the wounds that took so long to heal, the hurt that took so long to erase and the tears that took so long to stop.

I knew it was foolish to click the link to the song. Stirred crap from the past. I blame it on morbid curiosity.

Anyway, here it is. Listen at your own risk.

Someone Like You

by Adele

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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～