Presenting Christmas log cake to Asher, the shelter cat at Metta Cats & Dogs Sanctuary. (22-12-24)
About 20 Christmas Eves ago, I passed by 4 dogs sheltering under a vacated apartment block. There had been an on off drizzle much like today.
Grateful that I didn’t hesitate to help animals & share my interest with students when I was able to move without a walking aid. (Nanyang Girls’ High School, 2004)
I went home, put down my stuff & went out again to the supermarket to get dog food and aluminium trays in preparation to feed them.
My old flat at Blk 3 Teban Gardens Road (1999-2012)
By the time I got to the abandoned block, I couldn’t find the dogs.
A sense of disappointment mixed with deepening unease crept up on me as I surveyed the deserted neighbourhood in the failing light.
At that moment of uncertainty, a voice called out to me,”Miss Ong, what are you doing here?”
I turned around. Two boys had seemed to materialise from nowhere. They introduced themselves as students from one of the schools I had worked in.
The boys who helped me complete my dog feeding mission told me they came from St Joseph’s Institution.
When I told them about my failed feeding attempt, they took over the trays of dog food and completed my mission.
8 years after that Christmas Eve encounter, I would be relocated to a new flat that sits on the land where I fed the homeless dogs.
View from my current flat. (Sunrise on 10-12-24)
And each Christmas Eve especially on a cool evening like this, I will hear the Angels loud & clear: “Miss Ong, what are you doing here?” 🙏
Since that Christmas Eve encounter, and aided by friends, my animal helping work has extended beyond Singapore. (Rocky & Lakshmi, Nepal 2024) “Miss Ong, what are you doing here?” Asked the Angels loud & clear. (Boudha Stupa 2024)
This morning before it got too hot, we headed to the Jurong Lake to practise walking in my new boots.
To motivate me, my friend brought coffee and yutiao (fried dough fritters) from Bt Panjang market.
The sturdy boardwalk supported our feet as we strolled. Below us the green water stretched on endlessly. Above us, white wispy clouds spread across the blue sky like tracks left behind by wind horses.
We glanced guiltily at joggers passing by before taking a bite of the deep fried delight of our childhood. 😄
As we savoured our simple breakfast, we were treated to a display of aerial prowess by the brief appearance of, I believed to be either a white bellied sea eagle or a brahminy kite.
The wingspan was spectacular to behold, and as if telling me, “Be not dismayed you earth bound creature of flawed feet. Your wings are in your mind.”
Here’s wishing all a calming close to October and light footed grace to November. 🙏
Eat My Heart Out! My friend said next visit we’ll bring table mats and have a banquet of ordibary food.
Between the ages of 7 & 15, a big portion of my dad’s pay went to getting my surgical shoes & aluminium calipers.
I contracted childhood poliomyelitis when I was 10 months old. It left me with a permanent limp on my left leg.
Money was tight, but not once did he complain about how I was depleting resources.
When it was time to be in school & mix with clean limbed kids, my dad reminded me that because I walked differently from them, I would never be able to match their speed. Therefore I had to accept my slowness & not compare myself with others.
My Primary One class photo under the Acacia Tree where I spent many happy hours watching my friends play.
He was a pragmatic parent who knew kids at that age crave to belong. Recess time games could be cruel on a child with limited mobility.
When I got older, he also specified that I had to earn my keep by developing real skills & not expect others to foot my bills. I guess it was his clumsy way of telling me not to expect a man to take care of me.
I took my dad’s advice seriously and studied to become a teacher of English.
Although I didn’t like what my dad said at that time, his words have kept me from a lifetime of feeling sorry for myself.
Customised shoes & insoles to ease the strain of imbalance gait.
Although I couldn’t run around like my friends, I became a keen observor of body language by watching their playground antics, triumphs & defeats.
Although I can’t keep pace with many activities these days, there is no panic.
My dad might have known early on that regardless of what he could give me, I still had to face the world by myself & walk my own path.
So he taught me acceptance, which is the beginning to tenderness & freedom from attributing blame or seeking compensation.
In my world, there can never be too much sweetness or too many flowers.
I share two traits with Mexican painter, Frida Kahlo. We both contracted childhood polio and we both hated our affected legs. Frida covered her right leg by wearing long skirts, while I cover my left leg by wearing flowers.
Frida painted flowers so that they would not die. I wear flowers because they help me face life.
Whether to live just for a day or a week, Flowers remind me to bloom my best. Whether admired or mocked, Flowers say we gotta look fabulous!
Although her paintings were not exhibited, her energies were carried in the richness of her colours.
At the lotus shaped Art Science Museum, my 2 companions in their Sweet Seventies put me on a wheel chair and rolled me around to see Frida’s life. 😄🙏
My Sweet Seniors who may have seen it all, but everything is new to them.
May the thought of this senior Frida Wannabe and her friends chortling away while awashed in every Frida colour imaginable, bring a smile to bloom like a flower on you.
Around my 60th birthday I dreamt of my dad. In the dream he was working in a garden when I approached him. I showed him a dog I was cradling in my arms. He smiled approvingly.
Dad and me in my 30s at Westlake Restaurant in Farrer Rd.
In my childhood my dad taught me to pick up chicks, ducklings and rabbits gently so as not to hurt them. My maternal grandfather taught me to hold my fountain pen steadily & with just enough pressure when I’m writing to protect the nib.
With Shoya in early 2000s at our old home.
As I get older, these childhood experiences guide me to handle what I love, be it an object or a living being, with a light touch, so that I don’t spoil them & they don’t possess me.
In the dream it started to drizzle and the sky was darkening. I got into my dad’s truck so he could send me home. The dog in my arm started to whimper when the truck rumbled.
We decided it was best that I walked. As I started walking, dogs from all corners starting appearing & wagging their tails at me.
I turned around excitedly to look back at my dad to check if he had seen them too.
He nodded to show he did. Then he waved me onwards like he used to whenever I visited & it was time to leave. Only this time he wasn’t waving me towards the elevator, but onto a brightly lighted gravel path.
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.
On Hari Raya morning, after prayers at the mosque, First Tutee and his Grand Uncle dropped by my home.
Grand Uncle & First Tutee on Hari Raya morning after prayers at the mosque. (10 April 2024)
They brought coffee & cake too. 😊
Listening to a pre-teen speak animatedly about his new friends and being in the secondary school basketball team without either of us looking at our phones felt almost sacred.
“See, see! So paiseh!” First Tutee chuckled at the video of his fall on the basketball court.
The only time he checked his phone was to show me a video of him during a match. “So paiseh!” He chuckled good naturedly about tripping on the court.
“Maybe you come & watch me play in the next match?” He suggested. “But it’s in the stadium,” his voice trailed off.
Before they left for the day’s activities, First Tutee took some pictures from the window which he used to sit at before he entered primary one.
Kitty watches over the boy who used to spell, draw & color by the window as he becomes a teenager in a couple of months. (2018)
Hari Raya means Day of Celebration in the Malay Language. Here on our little island where our children & youth of various backgrounds can grow, learn & play together safely is truly worth celebrating.
So here’s to many more rayas ahead as we protect the peace that has been carefully nurtured by our forefathers over the years. 🙏
First Tutee insisted on this pose to show how tall he had grown.
“Be as kind to yourself as you are compassionate to others.” -Teaching 1.1.1 of Sacred Feet Yoga Teachings
For 40 odd years I bore a grudge against my dad over the way he treated my grandmother during one of her clinic visits.
In my teenage years, wheelchairs were not a regular sight like they are in Singapore now. To spare her some walking, my dad borrowed a pick up truck to take my grandmother for her treatment. And as if the logistical challenge was not enough, the clinic was on the second floor of a shophouse.
The shophouse stairs were narrow, and could only accommodate one user safely at a time.
When her clinic visit was over, my dad & I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my grandmother.
The concrete stairs that my grandma had to descend looked somewhat in terms of width & steepness like these wooden steps. (Chiangmai, 2014)
I could see my grandmother on top of the stairs struggling to put one foot down after the other while holding on to the hand support for dear life. My dad started yelling at her to hurry up.
Maybe because of high blood pressure & weak legs, the descent was hard for her. The narrow and steep steps might have also affected her vision and threatened her sense of balance.
Yet despite knowing my grandmother’s situation, I was too scared of my dad’s temper to ask him to quit stressing her.
She did finally made it down the stairs safely. Since then, I have a love-hate regard for steep stairs for they link me to her but in an unpleasant one.
And whenever I thought of my dad’s impatience towards her, I got angry with him. But most of all, I was angrier with me for not standing up for my grandma.
Recently at the hospital I witnessed a similar child-parent altercation. This time there was a wheelchair for the elderly father. But the adult son was either upset that they had missed their queue number or the consultation hadn’t taken place at the appointed time.
“You think I don’t have to work, is it?” He yelled, while the medical officer tried to placate the situation.
Like my dad, this man in work uniform must have taken leave to accompany his parent. And maybe like my dad, he might have also borrowed a vehicle for the purpose. And the above stressors would explain how concern for an infirmed parent can easily turn into resentment & harsh words when caregiving duty clashes with keeping a job.
Witnessing the son’s outburst helped me see my dad’s struggle for the first time after so many years.
This realisation may have come a little late, but it feels as if my dad wants me to know that I don’t have to feel angry with him or myself anymore, and there are no more obstacles for my grandma to clear. 😊🙏
My dad as a young man. He lost his own dad when he was 8 months. He was raised by a single mother, my grandmother.
My younger brothers & paternal grandma in our Prince Charles Square home. (1976/77)
For various reasons, meet ups with siblings, who are our first childhood companions, seem to occur less regularly than a leap year.
Nearly 50 years on… ( Year of the Dragon celebration 2024)
For some in our growing up years, judgements & ignorance separated us. Thankfully, as we get older, wisdom gained from accepting setbacks & realising life’s fragility can help to mend the drift.
Time spent with siblings also allows us to recall our shared history, relive our favourite moments & seek clarity on episodes that hurt us, so that we don’t have to keep carrying them around.
Lunar New Year outing to Albert Street. (2024)
I’ve known sibling bonds that have cushioned the impact of parental conflicts in childhood and lent support in education & career disappointments during formative years. Sibling bonds can even help weather marital storms & health challenges.
Car ride to Pierce Reservoir (2023)
Just this week I saw a pair of elderly brothers making their way to the doctor’s consultation room. The patient showed signs of mental deterioration and an uncertain gait. And his accompanying brother held him by the shoulder to guide him on his path.
My childhood disability was not just a financial & emotional drain on the family. It was also a burden on my younger brothers who silently bore the taunts that were directed at their sister.
Brothers on a lunar new year outing to Chinese Gardens.
In our advancing years while we can still make time to create happy moments with our siblings to balance the less savoury ones, let’s not wait.
Brothers chatting about cars during Year of the Dragon celebration.
Lisa Ong 