“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.

Blessing Things – Pendant from Patan

A pigeon pooped on me as I was deliberating whether to climb up the steps to a shop where this textured silver pendant in Patan was waiting.

The old city of Patan is known for its metal, stone and wood craftsmanship.

El counted 12 steps which looked fairly steep to me. Hence my hesitation.

As I was resisting the move upwards, I felt the cool wetness of pigeon poop on my hair from above like the way sometimes water from dripping laundry feel on us.

So there we were, 3 tourists stuck at the junction along Swotha House with Ron holding up a packet of wet tissue paper while El cleaned away before my shock at the pigeon’s insolence turned into full blown hysteria.

Strangely, as El deftly wiped at my jacket, the ache in my feet also became less severe. So with their help & a renewed shopping vigour, I was able to scale the height that would lead me to a roomful of prayerfully crafted silver & stone jewellery that was the trademark of Patan.

That was how this moon shaped silver pendant came to be with me.

After Patan, we spent a few days at Boudha before we headed back to Singapore.

At the Boudha Stupa I asked for blessings on the pendant, like I do for most purchases that will be in close contact with my body.

I asked that it be a pleasing element to all who see it and to open up ways to advance efforts to help animals.

This habit of blessing things was first inspired by Pablo Neruda’s poem, “Ode to Things,” when I was a young woman. In my adult life, readings on Zen, Shintoism, Judaism, Tibetan Buddhism & shamanism turn this habit into a kind of practice.

3 days after I returned to Singapore, I wore this silver piece to a Freedom Film showcase at The Projector theatre in the Beach Road area.

During the interval a well groomed lady in her early sixties complimented me on my silver pendant and asked where I got it from.

“Nepal? You went to Nepal by yourself?”

She asked incredulously after I had regaled her with tales of my travel.

Her question opened up space for me to share my animal agendas and how in this recent trip, the Universe had provided travel mates to carry over 40kg of medicines and milk to the rescuers of street dogs & cats.

“My daughter is a vet!” She exclaimed.

As I gave details on how we secured animal supplies that were difficult to come by for nepali rescuers of stray dogs and cats, she nodded approvingly.

I spoke of the kindness of ordinary nepali folks I know, and their ingenuity & selflessness in meeting hardship in order to help the voiceless.

“You know, I nearly went to Nepal once. But other things in life took over. After listening to you, I’ll like to try visiting Nepal again,” she shared.

To strengthen her aspiration I took out a new 50 rupee Nepali note bearing the picture of the Snow Leopard on one side and the Himalayas on the other side.

As I handed her the souvenir from Nepal which she received with both hands, I wished her the grace of the Snow Leopard and the steadfastness of the Himalayas in her plan to visit Nepal.

After we parted, I touched the silver pendant that had initiated this exchange of goodwill, and thanked it for travelling all this way from Nepal to Singapore.

And most of all I thanked the Boudha Stupa for not thinking that my trinket was not precious or expensive enough to deserve such a powerful blessing.

Touching Thor


Andrea & Junu held on to Thor as I repeated wishes of healing on his head. He soon calmed down. Perhaps he realised that not everyone who held a stick would hurt him.

Touching Thor
12 Dec 2018

Thor sat on his haunches and watched from afar, while the other dogs in the treatment centre crowded excitedly around us for cuddles.

Against the winter morning glare & dressed in a fawn coloured dog sweater for warmth, Thor’s crusty skin blended in with the sandy slope where he sat.

He was a recent arrival at the centre, skeletal and full of sores from untreated mange.

Besides medicating and feeding him, his rescuers/ caregivers also named him Thor, after the Norse God of Thunder. They wanted to imbue in him the much needed power to overcome his poor health.

Mange is a skin condition where parasitic mites burrow into the dog’s skin to feed on it. The disease is curable. However if left untreated, mange causes incessant itching, scratching, fur loss and open sores, while secondary infections set in to weaken the dog’s immune system further. Their deteriorating conditions make them look repulsive and smell terrible too. Death by starvation & organ failure is a fate that awaits mangy street dogs as they are less likely to evoke sympathy & get fed or helped.

As a newbie, Thor was the lowest ranking member of the dog pack at the centre. He couldn’t come to me even if he wanted to or even if I had called for him.

Panda, the alpha dog makes sure Thor knows his place & remains there. They will work out their dynamics in good time but just not at my visit yet.

So before we left the centre, I asked the carers if they could take me to Thor instead. I just wanted to touch him and let him know that I saw him and that he mattered.

“Hello, Thor!” I called out his name excitedly while moving in his direction with his carers.

Instead of sprinting happily towards me as I imagined, he got up to run away.

Luckily his carers were fast & caught hold of him before he bolted further. They assured him.

As he was brought to me, it dawned on me that it wasn’t me that he was scared of. He was afraid of what I had in my hand. My walking stick!

Living on the streets & scavenging for food in his conditions, Thor must have had his share of beatings from shopkeepers, hawkers, householders and even from those who felt justified to have a go at him just because of the way he looked and smelled.

And with my stick in hand charging towards him like that, I had all the visual cues of his abusers. From Thor’s point of view, what else could I be doing there except to hit him too?

I didn’t want to stress him further and decided not to get any closer. But his carers wouldn’t give up. They coaxed Thor and brought him nearer to me so that I could touch him.

I then had the honour of praying over this battle worn, terrified being by placing my hand over his gritty skin. I implored the elements to come to Thor’s aid and to remove all unpleasantness in his life.

At first he stood rigidly and I could feel him tensing. But as I lowered my face to his, and stroked his head while repeating my wishes for him, he began to understand. Peace.

How presumptuous I was in my initial interaction with Thor to think that he would know I meant to help him!

And how grateful I am to his carers that they wouldn’t allow Thor to stay frightened. They brought him to me so that he could see that not every human being who holds a stick will hurt him.

So may we cherish our hands because they can cause great misery to others.

And for all sentient beings that have been harshly treated, may they receive kindness even from those who resemble their enemies.

And may tormentors turn into friends.

Namaste.

🙏♥️🐾

Boudha Stupa is also known as the Mandala for World Peace.