It had been raining all day and by 4pm on New Year’s Eve I was still clueless as to how my mandala display to mark the last evening of 2021 should look like. So Iike my cats I decided to take a nap.
Then I dreamt I was in a dark alley and dared not walk because the ground was wet & slimy. Just as I was about to backtrack, a friend came by and cheerfully offered me a lamp. The fire which he held in his hand danced merrily and I felt my heart warming instantly. When I woke up, I kind of knew what my mandala for New Year’s Eve should look like.
So on this final evening of 2021, I found exactly 8 butter lamp holders to match the 8 points of the “OM” bearing lotus to herald the blossoming of new beginnings.
It is my wish that as 2021 draws to a close may the challenges we have endured the past year not make us fearful or bitter, but cause greater courage, higher wisdom & deeper compassion for ourselves and all sentient beings to flower as we cross into 2022.
New Year’s Eve Mandala of 8 pointed lotus bearing Om surrounded by 8 butterlamps. 2 days later, a friend would contribute $55 to round up contribution to $800 for street animals in Nepal.
Today I offered the last spoonful of the incense powder purchased at Boudha in 2017. This concoction of herbal wonder was unceremoniously scooped and dropped into a plastic bag for a few rupees.
The last spoonful of juniper incense bought from Boudha in 2017.
Having limited mobility & lacking confidence in my online shopping capabilities have strengthened my appreciation of resources. I learn to use every thing sparingly regardless of its price or how it comes to me. For me a bottle of soya sauce from the local supermarket has the same status as a bottle of truffle oil from a specialised store. Both are precious.
Boudha Stupa on the full moon day of Dec 2017. I took this picture without making any special effort and it turned out so beautiful. Each time I look at it I feel Buddha smiling at me.
Today’s incense from Nepal is the last of its lot that I personally bought.
Despite its age, it seems to have gained potency as its wafting fragrance triggers many pleasant thoughts & memories.
As I watched Fire transform the juniper into healing aromas through the dancing smoke, I sent wishes of goodwill to all sentient beings. Among which was just as we aspire to abundance, may we also be able to accept scarcity for its hidden blessings.
Incense from a little shop facing the Boudha Stupa. I gave some away and kept a couple of packets for my own use. Yesterday was the last spoonful from this lot bought in 2017.
Sometime in September I decided to dedicate prayers of healing to all sentient beings, instead of letting anxieties consume me when reading updates on Covid-19.
The string of blue lapis lazuli beads which tracks my prayers came from a former student who had bought the mala online “by mistake” a few years back.
My practice soon got me interested in books related to the Medicine Buddha.
Since 2011, I’ve called my trips to Nepal , “Medicine Journeys,” in honour of the modest collection of relief supplies we could carry to help people who are helping street animals there.
This November while scanning the book shelves at a friend’s place, my gaze landed on the last row where a book title, “In Search of the Medicine Buddha – A Himalayan Journey,” called out to me.
In chapter 1 of the book, I was greeted by a picture of the Boudha Stupa! And the first sentence went, “The Great Stupa of Boudhanath rises like a wish-fulfilling jewel in the eastern Kathmandu Valley.” 🙏
Following that, names & landmarks leapt off the pages at me as if to give me hugs! Asan Tol, Langtang, Terai, Swayamambu, Buranilkantha (Budanilkantha) Rhododendron, Bakhtapur and many familiar words assured me that I haven’t lost touch with the country.
A raw cut rose quartz given to me recently resembles the outline of Nepal.
Like my former student who gave me his lapis lazuli mala, some kind of “mistake” was at play in the purchase of this book as well.
Seeing my interest, my friend decided to let me have his book in exchange for a donation to be decided by me to an animal shelter of my choice. So on the full moon day that just passed I did just that in his name.
As we mark the Solstice today and give thanks for what has turned out right for us, may we also be able to accept wishes unfulfilled, because sometimes what we consider a mistake could turn out to be a great help to others.
Before opening the cans of cat food, I make a short prayer of good health & freedom from illness for the shelter animals at the Metta Cats & Dogs Sanctuary.
The mundane “click” of a can opening is magic to the cats’ ears. Very quickly, a choir of meows will accompany me as my food trolley approaches.
The younger cats even scale the wire mesh of their enclosure to try to meet me at eye level. The older ones pace at the door, waiting for their gourmet lunch.
This sweet being just wants to head bum you. (Metta Cats and Dog Sanctuary, Singapore)
I think the feline song & dance food ritual also blesses the people who donate food to shelter animals.
As I lock the safety gate behind me and unlock the inner gate to enter each enclosure with food offerings, eyes of labradorite, amber gold, citrine yellow and green agate follow me.
This citrine-eyed beauty just wants to sit close to you. She doesn’t need you to feed or pat her. (Metta Cats and Dogs Sanctuary, Singapore)
When plates of food are placed before them, many cats do not immediately start eating. Instead they will walk around their plates gingerly to sniff & study the content before feeding.
The nervous ones have to be coaxed before they will eat, much like how we will encourage a shy child at the orphanage or a lonely grandpa in a nursing home during meal times.
In every 3-4 cats, there will be at least one begging to be picked up and cuddled before he or she will get on with the business of filling the stomach.
It is hard to look away when a cat stands on her hind legs, places her paw on your knee and looks you in the eye. She needs more than food.
So even when you don’t wish to keep the others waiting, and you’re physically aching from all that bending, you’ll still pick this one up & hug her close to feed her heart.
The son of my former neighbour who lived one unit below us in our old block used to stop by our door to pat Shoya on his way home from school.
Shoya wagging his tail at my parents’ home as my mom prepares for prayers to the earth god on chinese new year eve.
Now as a young working adult, after having finished his polytechnic studies, and served in the army, he recently adopted a dog from a local shelter.
Handsome dog, Nugget, reminds his adopter of Shoya.
He told me his nearly 8 year old adoptee reminded him of Shoya. They had met when he was volunteering. He wanted to give the shelter boy a taste of home like how Shoya found a home with me.
When he was still in primary school, this young man would ask me all sorts of questions about dog breed, ownership, licensing rules etc
Today is the 7th year of Shoya’s passing in 2014.
Recently I saw the young man gently guiding his handsome dog to step into the lift with him.
Looking back it humbles me to know that just by sitting quietly at the threshold to welcome a boy who passed by, Shoya was sowing the seed of a home for a future dog in need. ❤️🙏
Shoya and I at our old block. I hope one day we will meet again. He passed on in Dec 2014 when I was in Thailand. I didn’t have a chance to say “Goodbye”. In hindsight I think maybe he didn’t want to say goodbye.
Holding my homecooked “poh piah” aka spring roll or Chinese burrito after 40 plus years.
“Poh Piah”, is a wrap filled with julienned vegetables. This Chinese burrito is usually served only on special occasions because of the labour intensive prep work behind it.
Every family has its own secret spring roll recipe reflecting its ancestral lineage, dialect and most of all, the matriarch’s personality.
Once a Filipino student described the ingredients in her mom’s “poh piah” which led me to ask if her forefathers were from Kinmen Island. She checked with her people and they confirmed it.
Last year, before social distancing rules got complicated, I had the fortune to be at a “poh piah party” hosted by a friend’s mom. Hers was peranakan style, complete with kueh pei ti. My friend’s dad personally drove to Joo Jiat to pick up handmade poh piah skin/wrap and pei ti cups to hold the precious & time sensitive ingredients.
Poh Piah, a love story.
Looking at the elaborate spread of ingredients and utensils, you realise this is not simply about eating, but it’s also about being part of a love story enfolding right at the table.
Last month at Souperstar, I found the humble spring roll repackaged and marketed as food-on-the-go.
Souperstar gives the traditional spring roll (poh piah) a trendy twist with its colourful wrapper.
I ordered the traditional one out of nostalgia, and made a mental note NOT TO COMPARE it with the ones made by my friend’s mom or my kinmen grandma.
I took a bite and felt vry satisfied as the familiar mix of minced garlic, sambal chilli, & sweet sauce on shredded turnip and assorted condiments danced in my mouth.
When I complimented the service staff for their delicious vegetable wrap, she declared with pride,” 我们的薄饼料是手切的!” (transl: our ingredients are hand cut).
The honour of being part of something made by hand as opposed to machine made was evident in her voice & smile.
With meal gatherings near impossible these days, my heart fills with gratitude each time I look at these pictures.
My friend’s dad drove to Joo Jiat Rd to pick up handmade poh piah wraps/ skins for our party.
And now I’m ever thankful to Souperstar’s business acumen & creativity to ensure that the poh piah parties on, even if it’s just for one person dining. 🙏😄
Fire turning sage leaves into ephemeral beauty of healing and comfort.
When we were children, my Kinmen grandma had the practice of waving smokes from burning sandal wood towards us.
My brother and I in our clean pyjamas would stand obediently facing her as the comforting aromas filled the space. We did not choke nor feel suffocated.
As a result, juniper incense makes me feel at home in Nepal.
The caregiver of the animal shelter gives me the chance to make a burning sage offering for the resident cats and dogs whenever I’m there.
As I move about the shelter systematically & wave the sage smokes towards each refugee animal and offer words of blessings and aspirations of finding good homes, a number of them will start gathering around me.
Old lady carrying old lady: Hoonie aka Divina & me.
At such a moment I sometimes feel I’m my grandma and the animals are my brothers and me. 😊
At a recent visit, one elderly dog perked up when I passed the sage smoke over her head. Alexi is 16 and feeling disorientated. She used to be the first animal to toddle towards me and place her head below my palm to take in the sage blessings. After that she and one of her cat sidekicks would follow me around as I moved from enclosure to enclosure, as if to assure everyone of my benevolent intentions.
That day after the blessing, HK helped Alexi put on her wheels and took her to walk the shelter grounds like in the old days.
Perhaps despite Alexi’s aging form and neurological issues, the sage smoke reminds her that all is not lost.
However, olfactory memories can hurt too.
Adeline Yen Mah of “Chinese Cinderalla,” couldn’t bear the fragrance of magnolia flowers. In her childhood she had to bury her only pet chick whom she had named PLT ( Precious Little Treasure) under the Magnolia Tree after it was killed by her father’s german shepherd.
It is my wish that no children or anyone will ever have to hold such tragic olfactory associations. And for those who do, may they be guided to transform traumas to peace.
And may all cherished olfactory memories heal & comfort us when time renders all other senses unreliable.
Alexi used to be the first to come for sage smoke blessing when she could walk on her own. The sage smoke perks her up & gives her the strength to put on her wheels so that she can inspect her beloved shelter. ❤️
Seeing colourful friendship bands from Nepal transports me to my childhood days of watching my grandmother roll coloured cotton threads into necklaces and anklets for babies in our village near the Singapore River.
Beaded friendship bands from Nepal.
Parents of restless babies, or babies with no appetites would come to our verandah to ask my grandma to make a thread necklace or anklet for their child.
Apparently her hand rolled cotton accessories worked like a charm because babies’ mood and appetite improved once they started wearing them.
I have no idea who taught my grandma to make these things or how they came to be associated with auspiciousness & protection for babies & children.
After all, my grandmother’s personal life was far from auspicious. At 7 years old, a change of family fortune sent her sailing from Kinmen Island to Singapore to be raised as my grandfather’s future bride. She never saw her own parents again and would spend her whole life pining for her childhood home.
An aerial shot of my grandma’s city of Houpu on Kinmen Island where she was born.
At the age of 26, my grandma lost her husband and her two little daughters to a lightning mishap. Her last child who was my dad was only 8 month old then.
Overnight, by “an act of God” as lightning strikes are categorised in insurance claims , my grandmother became a widow and a single mother.
She laboured at a factory shelling prawns to provide for her in-laws and son. Her gnarled fingers bore witness to her contact with the unbearably icy water that would also give her a lifetime of aches and pains.
Later on the bank where she kept her hard earned money would go bankrupt and her first grandchild who was me, would contract childhood poliomyelitis.
So by the above accounts, my grandmother was an incredibly unlucky woman. Logically, she should be shunned and babies shouldn’t be wearing anything her hands had touched.
Yet parents regularly dropped by our home to seek my grandmother’s advice or ask reverently for a piece of her cotton threads to soothe their sickly child.
Perhaps ironically, my grandma’s incredible ability to absorb terrible losses and misfortunes, and still lived to produce beautiful embroideries for wedding couples and cotton anklets for babies, have given her the status of a lucky charm. 😊
And because my grandmother refused to be defeated by the bad luck in her life, her only grand daughter whom she constantly worried about because of her handicap had the opportunity to speak at an event to honour women brilliance where she was seated at the table with women leaders, including Singapore’s first female president.
Because my grandmother did not give in to bad luck, but pressed on to give the best life she knew to my dad, I had the opportunity to speak at an event to promote women brilliance & share a table with women leaders, including Singapore’s first female president.
20 years ago on this day, I removed a puppy that had been kept in a junkyard along a defunct railway track and took him home.
I named the junkyard puppy, Shoya, and took him home.
That puppy lived for 15 years, gave me the courage to live alone and opened my eyes to the plight of street animals.
Shoya waiting to see his first vet, Dr Simms.
I named him Shoya 壽雅 meaning to live long & be gracious.
He gained his angel wings 7 years ago, but not a day goes by without his happy face crossing my mind. ❤️😊
Because of him I dared to venture into abandoned places to feed homeless dogs, walk in dim alleys to locate lost or injured cats and intervene in potentially abusive behaviour towards animals and people.
Feeding & befriending Margo in Jurong Lake Park before she found her forever loving home.
“Do one thing every day that scares you,” or versions of it has appeared on self improvement books, speeches & songs etc. I think taking Shoya home was the beginning of that for me.
With the late Andy of Street Dog Care in Nepal. I see my Shoya in every dog I meet and I just want to give him or her the best I can.
Lisa Ong 