Vespa was my dad’s favourite bike till he couldn’t ride.
A father’s influence is impossible to ignore even when he’s absent. If he’s a good father, he’s missed. If he’s a bad father, his kids are welded to him by hate.
I’ve met boys with limited access to their father pining over their dads & fantasing about fatherly attributes that may or may not exist.These boys will continue to look for their father in other people for a long time.
My dad in his youth donning a uniform from an unknown source. He was 8 month old when his father died. Having no father to role model after, he still did his best for us.
Girls whose fathers have let them down may appear unscathed on the surface, but scars stay.
While moms are rightly glorified for giving us life, I think fathers are magical because their influence or even the lack of it affects the meaning of our life.
Temple visit with my dad on chinese new year. We hardly spoke but my collection of pics of him attests to his importance in my life.
Throughout his life, my father hardly spoke to me. But his interests in books, batik, non-Chinese foods, Balinese arts and Nature continue to live through me. His sacrifices and shortcomings have become important lessons for my brothers and I as we move towards the age of his demise.
My dad as doting grandpa. Here his grandson is pointing a gun at me and my dad’s smiling!
My Fathers’ Day wish is that may all fathers claim their rightful place of power, and make good use of their influence for their children’s benefit and for the benefit of others. 🙏
Despite being only the size of a cushion, and weighing less than 6kg, Emmanuel growls menacingly when Ollie tries to cosy up on the couch he’s on.
Emmanuel, the cushion sized cat with a loud voice and a ready bite. Different locations, same bickering over who occupies where.
In return, Oliver sneaks up at night on Emmanuel ensconced on the cane chair, and scares the wits out of him.
My counselling falls on deaf ears.
Both cats are loved, have free run of my home and access to food and clean water 24/7.
Once in a while they grudgingly share space.
Furthermore they are also somewhat related, having been born on the grounds of a girls’ school I was teaching in some 14 years ago.
Yet they bicker constantly about who occupies where as much as they can only bodily be in one location at a time.
Perhaps this fear of losing out & needing to own more than what one needs is hardwired into the survival instincts of all living beings.
Oliver posing with a literary magazine from Kinmen Island, a political pawn used by warring parties since the Ming Dynasty. My grandmother was born there in 1914.
Unlike cats, we humans have the advantage of analysis, and perhaps even tame some of our natural inclinations for power and control, and be free from fear and possessiveness to some degree.
As these days we can’t travel on a whim, the things I bought on my trips to Nepal and Kinmen Island in the past have taken on a relic-like significance.
War Hero edition of Kinmen Sorghum Liquor.
In 2019, I visited Kinmen Island, the birthplace of my ancestors for the first time. Kinmen sorghum liquor is well known among wine aficionados. Revenue from its sale world wide plays a huge part in education funding for the island’s children from nursery to university.
The little island between mainland China and Taiwan even has its own ceramic factory dedicated to the creation of sorghum wine receptacles to mark historical and social events.
When I bought these two bottles of sorghum wine during my trips in 2019, I had no idea a pandemic was also brewing.
I got them mainly because the wine came from grains that were grown, harvested and fermented on an island that my grandmother was born, left and pined for all her life. And of course the little glasses that the islanders took their celebrated elixir in had to come home with me!
I love drinking with little glasses and cups. Firstly, they are very very cute. Secondly, they pace my alcohol intake so I can relax without becoming intoxicated. The thimble sized holders of Kinmen Sorghum encourages me to sip and savour, instead of gulp and guzzle.
When I take a sip of this “rocket fuel,” as the liquor is fondly known for its high alcohol content, the sweetness of fermented sorghum caresses my tongue and perfumes my mouth, while heat sashays up my nose, dances my brows and warms my ears.
I don’t know when we’ll be able to visit my grandmother’s beloved birthplace again. So for now I shall drink the precious remaining liquor mindfully, and make every sip count.
A lunch of Vietnamese spring rolls, papaya salad and noodles is augmented by Kinmen liquor.
And through mindful consumption and usage of resources like in the days of our forefathers, may we turn the little that we’ve got to lots, so that we may win the war against the pandemic.
This is the main entrance to the Boudha Stupa. Yesterday my friends at Street Dog Care posted this picture. Road repair works have begun.
Since 2011, I’ve stood at this entrance to the Boudha Stupa 8 times. I’m so grateful to have visited Nepal at every chance I could before this pandemic.
I’ve stood at this entrance 8 times in my life.
Each time when I looked at the Stupa for the first time, I would feel tears welling at my heart and making their way up my eyes.
At the same time in the midst of the surrounding chaotic traffic & commercial activities, I would also experience a profound quiet that was unshakeable.
“You saw your mind,” my Taiwanese friend who lives at Boudha told me when I narrated my encounter to her.
She went on to elaborate that when the mind is unfettered by judgements or desires, it is clear and free.
So perhaps I had tears in my eyes because at the Stupa entrance I caught a glimpse of how my mind could have been were it not shackled onto fixed patterns of ignorance & pride.
My first stupa dog, Sam, on a full moon evening before the lockdown.
These days I think I learn to suffer less because I try to watch my mind before thoughts become words and deeds.
While the well trodden path to Boudha Stupa is being repaired on this auspicious day of enlightenment, may I take this opportunity to wish my friends and all sentient beings divine guidance as they forge their own paths to liberation. 🌈🙏🐾
The conch produces the sound OM”, believed to be the sound of creation and from which all sounds emanated.
One day the subject of half-siblings and step-siblings came up towards the end of English lesson.
As I wrote down the words’ definitions and the circumstances that gave rise to them on the white board, some students looked really interested.
Even when the bell had sounded for the 14-year-olds to leave my class, a handful took their time to pack their bags and lingered on.
I have been very fortunate to witness such purity of intent among children many times. They give me strength to face the truth.
“Teacher, I have a half-sister,” “I have step brothers,” “My father remarried,” “My mom don’t allow me to see my dad,” and so on came tumbling out of the kids’ mouths as they gathered at my desk in the morning hush.
I was momentarily stunned. For right there in the safety of my homeroom, it felt like some dead weights were being lifted off young shoulders as each kid revealed what they were not supposed to talk about in public.
One boy whose mom left their family when he was in primary school looked almost teary when I taught him the words to say without having to lie about his mom’s absence at school functions. I could tell lying was destroying his young soul.
Words create realities.
I think the kids that day left the room with new words and new found camaraderie to face the new normal brought about by changes in family dynamics.
We do children a great disservice when we project our adult disappointments with life on them, and by denying them a voice we trap them further in our web of lies.
May we have the courage to face our truth so that others can live freely.
Yesterday at the animal shelter, an elderly Persian cat started purring loudly and turning her forehead to meet mine each time I managed to snip off a knot of matted fur that had twirled and tightened around her like barnacles growing on whales.
I hope Divina will still be around in my next visit. I hope to give her a bath and dry her properly.
Shelter trips are sobering reminders of abandonment, broken promises and vulnerabilities.
Shelter people are stretched to their limits to compensate the animals for the suffering in the hands of fellow humans.
This morning I came across a picture of a doctor holding a patient to comfort him. I thought of my encounter with the ageing Persian whom I had named Divina.
Different species, same loneliness.
Different contexts, same gestures.
Different professions, similar offerings.
At the risk of sounding melodramatic, cutting off the knots for the shelter cat felt akin to making a liberation gesture for me.
For some time as I leant against the plastic shelf with Divina purring loudly, I had an idea of the elation divers must have felt when they cut off fishing lines that have trapped marine lives.
Divina leaning towards me each time I snipped off a knot of matted fur from her body.
And today I learnt that some communities celebrated the birth of Buddha yesterday.
May we be free to offer relief to others with all the skillsets we have and in whatever situations we come across. 🌈🙏🐾
My grandma was traumatised, while I was more concerned about having blood on my candy.
After that blood letting episode, it would be a long time before I would see my beloved candies again.
My maternal grandparents raised 10 children on their meagre combined incomes. Money was always short, but they never made their children or grandchildren feel poor.
I remember one night when I was in primary 2, my grandma told me she would buy me a new box of colour pencils on her way home from work the next day.
Those words would become her last words to me. That night she woke up in the middle of sleep with a terrible headache, and passed on of stroke. She was only 50 years old.
Although I only knew my maternal grandma for just a few years, she is present in every candy & colour that I see these days.
Candies and Colours are what childhood is made of. My maternal grandma tried to give me both.
So I believe regardless of our financial constraints or length of life span, every gesture performed in the spirit of love & generosity continues to live on, long after the giver is gone.
“Door gifts for you!” The officer announced cheerfully after he had confirmed that I was fit to be discharged.
Vaccination issues dredge up old memories of regret & guilt about missing the one that was supposed to protect me from contracting childhood poliomyelitis.
In Singapore, many who are fit for vaccination are showing up for the jab to protect themselves and keep others from covid-19. I felt had to do my part too.
After reading up and consulting with my doctor on whether there were risks for post-polio patients, I registered to receive the vaccination.
I took a cab to the Yuhua Community Club for my first dose of vaccine.
I had lots of practice with medical appointments since I was a kid. As an adult, making them alone when I still can, is good training for old age.
Of course I had the good sense to arrange for someone to come & get me if I needed help in going home after the vaccination.
However, despite all that preparation, I still approached the vaccination venue with some trepidation.
As I trudged along the corridor leading to the registration counter, a man appeared in the opposite direction. He was wiping his face as he walked towards me.
And his built and gait looked strangely familiar. Is that my youngest uncle walking towards me? Or am I so stressed that I’m hallucinating about having a family member meet me at the centre?
Better not make a fool of myself, and go around calling strangers ‘uncle,’ I warned, even as I wished hopefully to be right. 😆
As it turned out, that man was indeed my youngest uncle! He was there to collect his safe entry token.
He was very surprised to see me in his neighbourhood. He thought I would have opted to go somewhere closer to my home for the vaccination.
My uncle showing the wood block carvings which he keeps carefully after digitization rendered them obsolete.
My uncle walked with me to the vaccination registration counter and my unease disappeared as we chatted.
Before seeing me off at the waiting area, he gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Looking back I now realised I am never alone. And the reason why someone’s built and gait could exude such strong vibes of familiarity and peace even at a distance, and even before I could ascertain his identity, was that they reminded me of my late grandfather, my uncle’s dad. ♥️
An encounter such as this is never merely just a coincidence for me. I hope by sharing this episode, those who have to do things on their own for whatever reason, will never feel alone.
Someone’s always watching over us. 🙏😊
Second flowering of orchids on Vaccination Day (eve of new moon).
May this film on the significance of rituals which I’m happy to be part of energise you and enhance your equanimity.
In my experience, rituals are series of deliberate steps undertaken to invoke an internal order through external actions.
They can be personal & non-sectarian such as making tea or lighting a candle in the privacy of our home. They can also be public & religious, involving the community in specific locations.
When performed with focus & intention, a simple act can become a ritual.
In the absence of full participation with our senses, a ritual becomes a routine.
Conversation with El on rituals at a temple celebration.
So central to all rituals I believe is the mindful enacting of gestures to invoke a sense of order & strength within to manage the turbulence without.
When a child has a chaotic day at school and coming home to the sight of a loving adult making tea and arranging biscuits on a plate for him for the thousandth time since he started kindergarten may have a calming effect on him. And maybe then he will have the courage to share his thoughts.
Unfortunately more and more of us are just too knackered to initiate any kind of ritual with our children. Some of us abdicate our role as ritual masters in our kids’ life to therapists, counsellors or even strangers.
The adult working world can be unforgiving& unpredictable. So having some place to be still or set the table even if it’s just to eat a simple meal of porridge, may provide a moment of peace to our battered being.
In short, rituals sustain us and lend us the motivation to give whatever we’re trying to accomplish another shot.
The pandemic has generated wave upon wave of unease & difficulties. Distrust among nations and between citizens and their governments prevail even with the availability of vaccines.
While pharmaceutical developments race to keep up with the virus, and authorities we count on are understandably none the wiser, we need to look within for that sense of balance.
And the cure that keeps us from the panic that causes harm to self and others, might just be invoked through the discovery of new healing gestures or the enacting of old restorative.
A handcrafted incense holder in the shape of a dragon used by a priest. Dragons are associated with water and change.
My second younger brother, Andrew, and I at Boudha Stupa in 2011.
Of all birthday observations, a sibling’s birthday is unique. Our brother or sister has been with us long before any BFFs, BFs, GFs, partners or spouses appear.
When I was younger, I saw my siblings through my parents’ eyes. Their disappointments or happiness in my brothers became mine.
Aging helps me to individuate, separate and differentiate, so that these days if I have any opinions or views on anyone, they are strictly mine. And as they’re ONLY my views from a limited mind, there’s no need to hold on to them so tightly.
Because my brother was not academically inclined, his childhood fascination with cars and all things mechanical & electronic were seen as purposeless and a waste of time.
With our dad before heading to Italy for his training under Ferrari.
Fortunately, cars have always been his first true love, so his dream of caring for cars in a workshop which he can be proud of didn’t die.
Giving thanks at the temple during lunar new year.
About 10 years ago, I bought a Ganesha figurine made of resin from the Tribuhavan Airport in Nepal.
It was love at first sight for my car mechanic brother when I placed the pot bellied elephant deity in his palm.
My brother with Ganesha in bronze at Hotel Harati in Kathmandu.
6 months after that, my brother would accompany me to carry medicines to street animals in Nepal. He also brought along his resin Ganesha on our trip to give thanks.
We stayed at Hotel Harati in Kathmandu where he met Ganesha in bronze, and Park Village in Budanilkhanta where we stopped to say hello to Ganesha in clay each morning.
My brother as a 5 year old in one of the few family outings my dad had the mood & means to take us.
Today this little brother who needed me to take him to Jurong Bird Park for a primary school art contest is now in his late 40s.
Fixing cars has opened up numerous new paths not only for my brother, but for others as well.
And on his birthday today, I wish him good health and peace to keep cars safe on the road.
May his reverence for Ganesha also make him wise and keep him grounded, even as he deals with speed & energy everyday. 🙏🌈🐾
My brother selecting incense holders in a little shop in Thamel, Kathmandu. He is wearing a G2000 jacket I got him when he headed to Italy years ago for his car apprenticeship. Although this is an old photo, the vibes it gives out are always fresh.
Lisa Ong 