Blessed Blacks

9 Jan 2019

Nearly twenty years ago while stacking up old newspapers in the kitchen I came across a picture of a dead dog lying on its side. The caption read that 50 people chased it down the streets with sticks and rods, and beat the black dog, suspected of having rabies, to death.

I felt the fear of being chased & the pain of being beaten when I looked at the matted & wet fur of the dead canine. A combination of factors such as self preservation instincts, unresolved personal problems and a mob mentality could have been the trigger for 50 humans to deal so cruelly with 1 defenseless and sick dog.

That episode in Thailand was the start of my interest in keeping press cuttings on animal news. The constant collection also evolved into a habit of putting bad news next to good ones to provide some form of mental & emotional balance for myself. It also creates some degree of objectivity when looking at the community where the news emerge.

In 2011 in Nepal, I befriended a black dog called Kali. She lives on the pavement along Hotel Harati in Thamel and is being cared for by Jamuna, the tea seller. I saw Kali again in 2013, 2014 and 2016 when I visited Nepal. She has survived the 2015 earthquake so I hope she’s still going strong.

With Kali in 2014 outside Jamuna’s tea stall.

In 2016, when we called her name, she looked up and wagged her tail at us.

Humans have all kinds of misgivings against the colour black, often forgetting that black is the most generous of all colours. Black allows other colours to come forth and shine while remaining in the background. Black comes to our aid when we need to hide a mistake so that we can start afresh.

Black puppy Blaze recovering at Street Dog Care. (3 Dec 2018)

Surrounded by Blessed Blacks. (SDC 3 Dec 2018)

Recently Ron kept a copy of the Bangkok Post dated 16 November 2018 for me. It featured a picture of Thai rescued dogs greeting visitors in a state-run dog shelter in Uthai Thani. This wouldn’t be possible 20 years ago. May all dogs in this centre be well treated.

Former stray dogs greeting visitors at a state-run dog shelter in Thailand.

I think of “my first” black dog that was beaten to death. Had he or she been born at a later time, the end might not be so tragic.

So in the spirit of the many Blessed Blacks that I have met, and the improvements in street dog welfare I’ve seen, I would like to name my Thai black canine from 20 years ago, Tara.

Tara is the name of the Goddess of Compassion. The stately guard dog of Street Dog Care that we met recently was also named after her.

And may the bestowing of auspicious names on all sentient beings that have suffered, release them from fear and pain, and fill them with peace & forgiveness. 🙏

Ron having a moment with Tara, who took her name from the Goddess of Compassion. Blaze the puppy who watches from the floor also gets lots of treats from Ron.

Mandala for First New Moon

6 Jan 2019

The marigold petals and oyster shell share the same wavy edges, although one is very soft and the other is very hard.

As it is with our encounters in life, may all our experiences good or bad, guide us to our highest potentials.

So after a long winter and a cold rainy season, may the sun’s fire energise this new moon with new light and new life.

And may the new moon reflect new hopes grounded in old wisdom in the coming year for our benefit and the benefit of all sentient beings.

A Thangka Trip

5 Jan 2019

This morning I was reading “Dolpo, the world behind the Himalayas,” by Karna Sakya, when I received a call from Ron. The thangka which he had bought in Nepal and sent for framing in Singapore was ready for collection.

Ron had found his thangka among the shops in Patan when we were there last December.

That day on the terrace, I could feel and see the joy he radiated as he held up his choice.

So when he asked me this morning if I would like to have lunch before dropping by the frame maker’s, I jumped in.

For lunch we came upon this little eatery called Prince Coffee House in Beach Road. It wasn’t our first choice for a lunch location but the Blanco Court Prawn Noodle Shop (my favourite) next door was full.

We decided to give Prince a chance. I’ve always wondered about their homemade yam cake anyway. Besides, the elderly proprietor was ever so hospitable, standing at the door and smiling at anyone that showed the slightest interest in his menu.

The lunch experience turned out to be worth more than the food we paid for.

The 80-year-old F&B sage regaled us with tales of his youth in the industry and the Taiwanese & Hong Kong movie stars that had eaten at his coffee house. In fact the pyrex plates that we were dining on were 45 years old! He bought each set at $10, his eyes glowing with affection as he said so.

He also charmed us with his childlike joy when talking about his yam cakes, chicken pies and apple pies. Each day at 3pm he would go to the kitchen and assist his bakers to make them.

We felt so honoured when he brought us each a glass of water so that we could “eat slowly” because it was a hot day. He also gave all his patrons free dessert of fruits or grass jelly.

When we finished our meal, the octogenarian personally cleared our table and amazed us by arranging the crockery on each of his arm before walking nimbly back to the kitchen! It was Cirque de Soleil to me!

The thangka is a Nepalese art form that depicts Tibetan buddhist iconography. It has many spiritual and practical functions. For me, the variety and depth of colours in thangkas and the emphasis on harmony & proportion inspire me to seek inner & outer balance.

Looking at the owner of Prince Coffee House, his outer balance must have come from an inner peace cultivated from 80 years’ worth of managing the ups and downs in his life.

And it is so apt that today on the eve of the new moon we would collect a thangka that features a long ago Prince who spent his life showing us a way to peace.

So in whichever era we’re born, and regardless of social status, may we cultivate peace within so that we may radiate it to all sentient beings, like the Prince Siddharta depicted in this thangka painting and like the old proprietor of the Prince Coffee House we met today.

“You Are So Beautiful!”

3 Jan 2018

Once my yoga teacher invited me to join one of her free yoga sessions she had customised for patients of Parkinson’s Disease and their caregivers.

I was a bit tense among this community of sufferers as I have spent most of my life trying to avoid my own pain and masking it when I can’t.

After my yoga teacher had introduced me to the group, I thanked them for having me. One of them replied slowly but gaily, “You are so beautiful!” The others expressed varying degrees of agreement, according to the limits of their facial & bodily pliancy. I was really stunned by their generosity.

Last year, on mornings to board my taxi for work, I would sometimes pass by an elderly man on wheelchair. He was accompanied by his domestic helper.

His eyes were usually closed as his helper chattered on brightly. One morning he opened his eyes when he heard me saying hello to her. I greeted him too and he replied in a frail voice but with a smile, “You are beautiful.” I could hear the presence of phlegm in his voice, indicating that it must have taken a lot out of him to give me that compliment.

Sometime in late November last year I learnt that the grandpa had choked on a piece of bread and passed on.

These days I value the ability to speak, more. And I guard the power to decide on the content even more.

Who knows? There may come a day when I have only enough breath to utter one sentence. And I hope I won’t waste it on some nonsense, but may my utterances be more akin to those made by the Parkinson’s patient and the grandpa.

The First Gift of 2019

1 Jan 2019

On New Year’s Eve, I kept seeing a giant prayer wheel in my mind. I knew that I had to make that temple trip even if I had to go on my own. And when I spoke of it to a close friend, he said he would take me there.

Caption: Lighting butter lamps in Boudha Stupa, Nepal. (Dec 2018)

So we started the first day of 2019 by visiting the Tibetan temple at Beatty Lane. We offered thanksgiving prayers and dedicated butter lamps to loved ones and to all sentient beings.

While I was at it, a much loved community cat that had disappeared in April 2018 came to mind. Despite all attempts to locate her, she was never found. I felt her feeder’s grief when she spoke of her during our Christmas meet up recently.

Caption: Bailey aka Sasha

So I thought of making a donation in the cat’s name to alleviate the feeder’s pain and most of all to grant peace to the cat in case something tragic had happened to her.

As I was preparing to write the cat’s name on the donation form at the administrative counter, a question arose. “Will Bailey aka Sasha be able to receive the merits of the donation? She is after all, an animal.”

This doubt gnawed at me as I lingered over the line where the cat’s name was supposed to be written. Then I heard “Sasha!” being said by someone from behind me. It was a mother calling out for her little girl.

Hearing the cat’s name so clearly articulated on this bright new year morning cleared my doubt. I proceeded with the paper work confidently.

The computer system responsible for processing donation details had been lagging for a while. But it sprang to life after the temple volunteer had keyed in my information. I got my e-receipt instantly.

In the late afternoon, a friend dropped by to catch up. He had brought me a gift which he claimed he had casually found online. He hoped I would like it.

When I opened the box, it was an angel holding a cat! ♥️

Caption: Welcoming Bailey’s Angel with butter lamp and marigold on the first day of 2019.

I love this first gift of 2019. I called it Bailey’s Angel. It is beautifully made, and it feels like an acknowledgement from the Great Beyond, that whatever I did at the temple this morning has been received.

Rooting

30 December 2018

The year end brings its rounds of holidays, merriments and profound questions such as “How has the year been?”

On Christmas Evening, I had the chance to hang out at the old neighbourhood of Boon Lay Shopping Centre with a Malay friend. We were there for a session of traditional chinese massage.

After the deep tissue massage, we had our comfort food, the famed Boon Lay Power Nasi Lemak. (I know, so healthy right?)

In the hawker centre that was linked to the wet market, we were surrounded by old folks, dating bikers, families and a steady stream of late night workers still in their work gears – neon tops, orange or blue overalls, Kings boots etc. You know, the people who maintain our trains, repair our highways, and keep our country running while we sleep. At one point it also felt like we were supping with The Village People!

With our bones all aligned and bellies full of fragrant coconut rice, we went on a car ride in my friend’s Volkswagen.

He pointed out the landmarks of our youth – places of worship, banks, and the community centre where my brother’s wedding dinner was held.

New flats on the old location where my friend sold epok epok in his youth to supplement his mother’s income.

We saw the location of the flats where my friend peddled his mom’s homemade curry puffs in his primary school uniform, the factories where he worked as a cleaner during his secondary school holidays, the church where he sat in to seek solace from words that were thrown around like knives during family quarrels, and the bus stop where he waited to accompany his sister home after her night shift work.

These old pine trees have been here since our teenage years.

The beautiful pine trees that lined the roads leading to the Chinese and Japanese gardens (now closed for renovation) and the JTC flats where I tutored a boy in my late teens, and the garden where I rescued and rehomed a dog named Margo when I was a teacher were all still around.

We gave thanks for this backwater of a neighbourhood. It has no class, no famous schools, and some of its people still come out in their pajamas.

But this place has given my friend and I all we needed in our formative years to become the adults that we are today.

And it is very grounding to look back at 2018 and the years before, to realise that even the parts of our life that have been stressful or difficult can impact us in so many positive ways.

Ode to Tables

29 Dec 2018

Among all the pieces of furniture in a traditional Chinese home, great emphasis is placed on the altar table and the dining table. Before they are purchased, measurements and placements have to be carefully considered and discussed.

The altar table is where the family gods and ancestor spirits gather. It basically marks the soul of the house.

The dining table is for meal gatherings and family discussions. If you’re of my vintage, it’s also the place to settle our homework, complete the art project and grow bean sprouts for the science teacher.

2 years ago in 2016 at Street Dog Care in Nepal, a battered and scratched plastic table was witness to our very special gathering among friends of different nations, all united by canine concerns.

Worn out from exposure to the monsoon rains, year end cold and even the 2015 earthquake, the table was retired when Street Dog Care needed to relocate.

I had fond memories of this cracked table but trusted that its spirit of harmony will follow the SDC staff & volunteers to their new home.

On 3 Dec 2018, we visited Street Dog Care in its new location and of course right at the heart of the centre a round plastic table welcomed us, complete with its own live dog display, Tara, the guard dog on it.

After we had placed our animal supplies on it, Tara presided majestically over the goods.

No matter how we coaxed her with words & treats, she refused to come down from the table, but stood guard regally, as if protecting the peace & abundance that the table held.

She finally made way for us briefly to gather around it for tea.

I looked at the mass produced table where supporters and well wishers of Nepal’s street dogs continued to congregate, & felt humbled.

It is common looking and made of plastic, yet its capacity to draw local & international support may be as strong as those that are made of oak & mahogany in the offices of power brokers.

So as we bid goodbye to 2018, and declutter to make room for 2019, we can still ask for the spirit of benevolence in the discarded items to stay, the way the collective goodwill bestowed upon the old mangled table continues to live in the new table at Street Dog Care. 😊

Christmas Without Borders

Christmas without Borders

24 Dec 2018

Yesterday I received my first black Christmas card. So did my cat, Oliver. He also received money gift in a Hari Raya envelope to buy cat treats. They were from Niq, my young tutee.

He told me that he had to use a special pen to write on the black background & drew Santa and his deer. He had used these cards because they were free.

I showed him the figurines for the Nativity scene and invited him to arrange them while telling the story behind Christmas.

He happily accepted the invitation and even included me by giving me the roles of the Angel and Mother Mary. He was King, Shepherd, Sheep, Donkey and Cow.

The Himalayan singing bowl added a sense of tempo to our collaboration.

In Niq’s Nativity story, every character had a speaking part, including the animals. And he was very specific about how the animals would protect Jesus when he was still a “precious baby,” but once he became a “grown up”, he would be a shepherd and take good care of them. And when he had trouble carrying wood in the forest, the Angel would help him.

I was quietly amazed at how his story was imbued with symbolic details for someone his age.

Before he left my home, he went to check on Oliver sleeping behind the washing machine in the utility area. And I heard Niq wishing the Cat “Merry Christmas” and telling him that he had made him a Christmas card and given money to buy him treats as Christmas present.

May the Light of Christmas that shone through this little boy bring peace & joy to all sentient beings.

Sounds That Heal

Sounds that Heal

23 Dec 2018

One morning in Patan, Nepal, I heard the soft clang of a bell in my sleep. As I listened to the clangs that came at random intervals, I realised they were coming from a nearby shrine or temple.

I woke up reverently, realising there were people already making morning prayers in the depth of a cold and dark winter while I slept.

In the 70s during my primary school days, it was the muezzin’s morning prayer call from a nearby mosque that roused me gently to get ready for school. To my chinese ears, the songlike supplication in the muezzin’s tone was very comforting.

Alarm clocks and electrical gadgets are reliable & efficient, but their mechanical beeps tend to cause some panic in me.

Whereas temple bells & muezzin calls are like telephone calls from the Divine, reminding me to first give thanks for this life, before letting the world rush in.

May the sounds that we make also bring healing to others and connect them to the Divine, the way the temple bells & muezzin calls have done for me.

Solstice Blessings

22 Dec 2018

As the sun retreats, may all sentient beings that labour find rest.

As the sun dips, may all working animals be given warm shelter and nourishments.

And may each life, whether it’s 2 legged, 4 legged, hoofed, webbed, winged, feathered or scaled be well lived, so that it can exit graciously like a glorious sunset when the time arrives.