Sweet elephant gift from India & butter lamps to welcome the New Moon.
May the observation of the New Moon assure all sentient beings that endings are also new beginnings.
15 years ago, this pendant was sold at a discount, having lost its competition among the trendier & newer trinkets in the shop.
Recently, this “casualty” of a merchant’s stock clearing exercise was chosen to accompany a person on an important trip to India.
As a result, this humble pendant of inexpensive stones became a witness to many priceless acts of spirituality & charity as it sits close to the wearer’s heart.
Like this pendant, we may lose favour as circumstances change, or even be discarded as the world hurries on. However, if our essential nature is one of stability & kindness, we cannot be defeated. 😊
A blessed new moon to all sentient beings.
The humble pendant of inexpensive white jade & adventurine also brought me these sandalwood gifts from India.
Oliver welcoming my first Himalayan singing bowl on 8 Dec 2018.
When the cats were here, I began my day with changing their water bowls & replenishing their kibbles. It was usually followed by incense & butter lamp lighting. In their final months, their medical needs directed my mantra recitations.
Each morning my cats, Oliver & Emmanuel led me towards the altar where Compassion represented by Avalokithesvara & Wisdom represented by Ganesha sit.
I’m still processing their absence. And now in their memory, I begin my day by paying attention to my heart & breath.
My Heart & My Breath. (24 October 2022)
When I started doing that, gifts that promoted physical, emotional & spiritual well being from female elders started coming my way. They were a yoga chair to strengthen my standing, a hand carried meditation cushion bought 10 years ago in Rishikesh, India to facilitate my sitting and a newly printed book from its UK author to aid my spiritual evolution.
Gifts of yoga chair & meditation cushion from Wise Women.
A few days before yesterday’s full moon, a younger friend gave me a book on words that console, and another on embracing impermanence.
On Vesak Day morning, as I listened to a mantra on compassion I received a call which allowed me to share my understanding of wounds, medicine, & mending.
Much like the teenage footballers whom I used to mentor who always entered the soccer field with their right foot, I’m a believer in starting the day right.
Yesterday I was beyond grateful to begin a high holiday by offering words of assurance and healing, just like how I used to offer sustenance & hugs to my cats & dog. ♥️😊
Starting right includes choosing to be kind instead of right.
Drawing of Ganesh adorns the box of handmade sweets I received in 2016.
“Madame, please buy it. It’s very nice!” gushed the indian shop assistant. His lady boss at their grocery shop looked on sternly.
The mass produced laddoo being promoted was sealed in plastic wrapping. I could see it had been tossed about quite a bit. I wasn’t even sure if it was still edible, much less tasty.
A laddoo is a bright saffron colored spherical sweet made from flour, sugar, ghee & dry fruits. It is presented as snacks and offerings for celebratory & hindu religious purposes.
Taking Indian sweets with unsweetened massal tea makes me feel like a rani.
Having been exposed to freshly made indian sweets since I was a kid, and as an adult, tasted delightful morsels sold by weight, I’m somewhat of a sweet snob.
Years of savouring sweets sold by weight have made me into a sweet snob.
But what if the shop assistant needed me to buy THAT laddoo in order to show his boss that he was a good employee?
When I agreed to add that tired & slightly toxic looking golf ball sized sweet onto my grocery purchase, the shop assistant beamed in delight while his boss’ face opened like a flower in wonderment.
“You mean you would buy this laddoo from him just because he asked you to?” She clarified, amazed.
“Of course! He’s so enthusiastic about the laddoo. No harm giving it a chance,” I chortled.
Back home as I placed the shabby *prasad at *Ganesha’s feet, I apologised for the way it looked, & promised I would get him nicer ones next time.
Rose quartz Ganaesha in my home.
The next day I had no heart to toss out the laddoo. It was food after all, even if it didn’t meet my standard.
So I took a little bite. And it was the tastiest laddoo I’ve ever eaten! As expected, I single-handedly polished off the whole prasad in one sitting. 😄
On this eve of celebrating compassion & wisdom, may our heart & mind stay open to little acts that can sweeten our life and the lives of others in unexpected ways. 🙏
*prasad – offerings in sanskrit language *Ganesha – elephant headed hindu diety associated with wisdom & possibilities.
My interest in sweets causes me to leave sweets for the housekeepers who take care of the rooms I stay when I travel.
Monday’s laundry day. It is not a hassle at all. I took my time to sort out the items and read the operation manual of the new washer carefully. The previous washer which broke down towards end 2023 lasted 16 years.
My handsome boy, Oliver, died in November 2023. He was 20 years old. A month later, the washer broke down.
While the washing went on, I made breakfast. It is not a hassle at all. In many parts of the world, not many get the chance to boil water and inhale the aroma of coffee powder. It is also wonderful to still be able to start the stove by myself, place uncooked dough onto a heated pan and watch it turn into edible spring onion pancake.
While having coffee, I returned a message to my first younger brother. Each morning he sends me a greeting with a picture. I guess it’s his way of making sure I’m responsive. 😊
My first younger brother’s text to me this morning.
Today I also replaced the vacuum bag, and cleaned the filter of the vacuum cleaner. It’s not a hassle that I have a home to clean. It is also a relief that there’s no need to specially make a trip to the mall just to buy vacuum bags. These days many household items can be ordered online.
In between hanging up laundry to dry, I made lunch. The prayer flags fluttered outside the window as I ate fried eggs and plain rice with a sprinkle of furikake.
Remembering that a friend is taking a community cat to the vet tomorrow, I made an offering of flowers & light for a smooth trip & easy recovery.
Flower & Light for a smooth trip & easy recovery.
Throughout the day, I listened to music, songs & chants but spoke little. The only conversation I had was with a friend about his success at making Peranakan curry.
The above mundane activities are indicators of independent living & living according to the pace I can cope. Be it taking out the trash or exploring new options to reduce physical strain, I cherish every moment when I can still take care of business.
Yesterday as the Oct 10 or 10/10 discounts on various online shopping platforms raged on, I found my interest to acquire more displaced by an urgency to discard.
As I gave thanks for the leaves that formed a mandala 2 full moons ago which had since shrivelled up and become brittle, I bade goodbye to aspects of my disposition that have kept my heart small and my mind fragile.
I bade goodbye to pettiness, so that I may be freed from fault finding.
I bade goodbye to perfection, so that I may be freed from fear.
I bade goodbye to self-righteousness so that I may be freed from ignorance.
Perhaps the glorious goldening of leaves and their dramatic shedding at this time of the year are gestures from a very benevolent universe to ease the deaths of personal habitual patterns that are hindering our ascension.
There I was, silver haired and clad in batik pants going ga-ga over the jeep when its owner and his dad spotted me.
At nearly 60 years old, I see a jeep in camouflage paint upclose for the first time. (Pierce Reservoir)
When the young man learnt that this was my first time seeing a jeep in camouflage upclose, he opened one of its door enthusiastically to invite me in.
“Thank you! But this is too high for me,” I explained.
Looking a tad apologetic for not noticing my physical challenge he quickly added, “Yes, even I find it hard to get in at times. Come, let me take your pictures with it!”
His jeep would be 20 years old next year and due for scraping. He has taken care of it for 17 years.
Defender of challenging terrains.
There was a solemnity in his voice as he spoke of how he had one year left with his jeep before it would be sent away.
“You’re gonna have some serious separation anxiety when it goes away,” I said as I ran my fingers over the paintwork & decorations of a much loved vehicle.
It may seem strange on the surface how we can get attached to inanimate objects. But some of us who’ve been supported by the very silence of dumb things, will comprehend.
To the owner, the jeep may even be an extension of his personality.
The encounter reminds me not to be glib about telling people to let go of their things, especially of items that have seen their owners through emotionally trying terrains that we know little of.
No trip to Little India is ever complete without a meal at Madras New Woodlands for us.
Even though we can visit more upmarket eateries now, going back to our old haunt for a meal always feels like a treat. This is the place that fed & welcome us in those days when we didn’t have much.
The restaurant began around the time we started university, which was 40 years ago. One top of its flavourful meals, its charges are easy on the pocket for students & young working adults. And regardless of the size of your order, you can be assured of utmost hospitality.
Over the years, and despite the market fluctuations, their menu and prices have remained fairly stable. And their hospitality always makes me feel like a much loved patron despite me being of a minority race among their patrons.
Pre-covid days, the restaurant made its muruku (dhal chips) and other snacks fresh. Their oil for frying was top quality. I used to haul packets of my beloved murukus home as if they were gold.
After we washed down our wholesome dosas & pooris with massala tea, it was time to check out Apollo Shopping Centre for sweets, oils, fragrances, retro time pieces & Handloom of India for pure cotton kurtis (short top) and kurtas (long top).
After lunch, we stopped by this little shop to try on their Rajasthani cotton prints. My friend Sharonne got to charge her phone here too.
Ever so cheerful & obliging, the husband & wife proprietors of Handloom spared no effort in showing us their wide collection of pure cotton tops that bore one of a kind chikankari embroidery from Lucknow.
To some, the embroidery may just be sewing. But vibrating among the delicate threads that form patterns of leaves, flowers & paisleys are aspirations for beauty & better lives.
When I bought my first cotton kurta from this couple, their daughter was doing her primary school homework among their merchandise. Now their little girl has become a teacher and is married.
As the nearly full moon appeared in the bright evening sky, freshly strung thanksgiving jasmine garlands by Prasad the Florist were our final purchase to wrap up an awesome day.
Sharonne took this shot of the Moon above me. (27-7-23) Thanksgiving jasmine garlands strung by Prasad the Florist was our final purchase in Little India to wrap up an awesome day.
Although I grew up watching my Kinmen grandma cross stitch elaborate & perfectly symmetrical patterns on fabrics, I was miserable at sewing lessons in my primary school days.
I was very dependent on the teacher marking out where the cross stitches should be.
Once towards recess time, she coldly warned me that I woudn’t get my break unless I could sew the cross stitches diagonally across a square fabric. I panicked.
To my 7-year-old self then missing recess was unthinkable for two reasons. Firstly, I would miss the delicious food which I was thinking about all morning. Secondly, to be stuck in the classroom to struggle with sewing felt like the ultimate betrayal by an adult for whom I had the highest regard.
So I had a meltdown.
A classmate’s mom came to my aid when I was hyperventilating and trying to thread the needle through tears at the same time. Till this day I can still recall my rescuer’s hairstyle, her facial features and her gentle voice. A couple of her teeth were capped in gold.
In my childhood, lots of women could stitch & sew. Their sewing skills put food on the table and their kids through school. So I have deep respect for women and later on men, who can sew and cook, long before social media & celebrities make these skills trendy.
Years later after that episode I would develop a special fondness for the cross stitches and indigo prints of minority people in China, Northern Thailand and Vietnam.
Showcase of Hilltribe embroidery at the Asian Civilisation Museum.
And each time I wear something handmade by women I’ve never met, I feel the collective power of all our female ancestors and the kindness of my classmate’s mother all over again. ❤️😊
Red Hmong embroidery purchased from Chiangmai, Thailand.
My second time making dumplings from glutinous rice floor from scratch. We added yam flour from Philippines to rice flour from Thailand to create the colour purple.
“Solstice” means the Sun stands still. In the north, it stands for the symbolic death of the Sun, only to be reborn in 3 days’ time.
Although it is endless summer in Singapore, Winter Solstice is celebrated as “Dong Zhi” (冬至) by south-east asian Chinese who inherited the practice from their east asian ancestors.
In about 11 days’ time, on 22 Dec 2022, the winter solstice will be upon us.
To mark the occasion, matriarchs of the family, either the mother or grandma will gather the children around the kitchen table to make glutinous rice dumplings that symbolise the sun, reunion & rebirth.
No alchohol was abused in the making of these dumplings.
These days, readymade dumplings of various colours and fillings from supermarkets have rendered the above practice redundant.
Recently I was only too delighted to be invited to make the spherical shaped dumplings from scratch in a friend’s newly moved in apartment.
Just imagine, on a high rise floor up in the sky, and surrounded by the latest state-of-the-art home gadgets, two English speaking persons of Fujian ancestry participating in a food making ritual that originated in ancient times.
As we ate the creation of our hands cooked and sweetened in a herbal concoction of lemon grass, honey and flowers, our friendship deepened in silence.
Handmade dumplings cooked in a concoction of lemon grass, honey and flower syrup.
So as the Solstice approaches and year end celebrations beckon, I hope we can choose to do less but put in more time & effort, and not feel pressured to fall into the trap of convenience, trying to do everything and ending up with nothing.
Wishing all friends & sentient beings a healing time as we follow the Sun. 🙏
Twenty years ago during World Cup 2002, I had a picture taken with the match schedule at HardRock Cafe Beijing not because I understood soccer, but because Tiger Beer, a Singapore brand was featured.
I felt honoured that our beer from our tiny island was the chosen beverage for watching & celebrating an international sporting event in a gigantic country.
I’ve never known a sport that can unite and divide with such vehemence like soccer. I’m always cautious when asked which team is my favourite. My inquirer’s face morphing from friendly interest to utter disdain in a matter of seconds tells me not to drop team names casually.
2014 World Cup fever reaches the landlocked Nepal. We were on our way to Nagarkot and saw this street lined with flags of partipating countries.
One year on a crowded street in Piccadily Circus in London, a total stranger high fived & hugged my travel mate as if they were long lost relatives because the latter was spotting a certain soccer jersey.
This tribal loyalty is too much for me so I stay clear of soccer politics. But soccer uniform designs, soccer boots & related training gears continue to fascinate me deeply because they celebrate the power & grace of the human form.
I love watching the moves but I don’t like the anger and violence of the crowd when players don’t perform as expected.
So as World Cup 2022 starts in Qatar today, may our human nature evolve to meet the standards of this beautiful game called soccer, and may all sentient beings be blessed.
Years later I would learn to my great sorrow, that some hosting countries cull street animals as part of their attempts to clean & beautify locations chosen for such high stakes sporting events.
So as the World Cup opening ceremony begins in Qatar today, may our human nature also evolve to match the qualities promoted by this beautiful game called soccer. May all sentient beings be blessed.
Lisa Ong 