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.
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.
In 2019, I made 2 trips to Kinmen Island, my grandmother’s birthplace. One full moon evening I was walking on a street of the old city when I met an old lady. She was dressed in a traditional qipao/ cheongsum made of pink shimmering fabric. She was also using a cane. As we crossed path, she smiled at me. Although I was too stunned to ask for a picture with her, I will never forget the joy she radiated.
As a part time library assistant in my student days, I met two senior ladies from the management who left lasting impressions on me.
The Central Library where I worked part time and met the two senior ladies about 40 years ago. I was a teenager then.
Both of them held positions of authority. Both had education, culture and wealth.
The First Senior Lady did not suffer fools and had a way with words if you did not meet her standards. The perpetual scowl on her face even when she was not upset contrasted dramatically with her coiffured hair & her well made clothes.
The Second Senior Lady got things done by explaining & correcting. With her blazer drapped over her shoulders, and in a soft voice, she would show how things should & could have been. Her thinning hair did not make her look aged, but instead gave her a look of impish innocence. She seemed to shed gold dust when she worked with us. Each time she pointed out our errors she left us feeling wanting to do better.
Years later, I would run into Second Senior Lady in Esplanade Theatre lobby. When I greeted her, she still shone like a chandelier even though she was in an ordinary dress.
The Japanese have a practice of summing up a year in one word. If I had to use one word to describe my experience of Second Senior Lady, the word would be “Gold.” For First Senior Lady, “Crushed,” came to mind.
I wonder what word would define me as I’m also a senior lady myself now.
My yoga teacher, Erika was 60 when we met. Now she’s 72 and I’m 60. She is healthy & happy, sharing her knowledge freely. (Madras Woodlands Restaurant, January 2024)
I think often of Second Senior Lady. Recently I found her presence in Queen Margarette II of Denmark as she announced her abdication.
Beyond diet & lifestyle, ageing well is also about watching one’s mind & behaviour.
As our looks fade, and strength wanes, our thoughts, speech and manners gain prominence.
When we have a habit of thinking ill of others or we’re above them, we may develop a habitual sneer. So it’s good to watch our mind & refine our thoughts instead of assuming we’re right just because we have lived longer.
And a voice that carries complaints & unreasonable demands grates on the nerves of people around us. So watching our mouth to avoid causing harm & be totally ignored later on is a priority too.
Finally like Queen Magarette II, who had the wisdom to abdicate her authority when she still could, senior ladies must also learn that whether we like it or not, a time when we can no longer take centre stage will come. This means accepting the loss of attention from others & becoming more at ease with what doesn’t please us. And maybe then we have the chance to turn gold. 😊
Had a great day in a former student’s art studio in 2021 doing nothing special. Because there are thousand & one things that can go wrong when we approach old age, every bit of joy counts.
A bouquet from a student whom I taught 36 years ago arrived today. (11 Sep 2023)
In my childhood, I spent hours pottering among plants. I stuck the wooden stems of paper flowers into soil and believed they would become real flowers if I could just focus. I sometimes got scolded for removing offering decorations from the altar to put them in dirt. 😄
This crochet sunflower is as precious as the real ones. (Teachers’ Day gift 2023)
In my youth, flowers assured me that I was accepted & appreciated.
These lovely girls & their sunflower gift. (NYGH, 2004)
Now in old age, flowers remind me to always carry the Sun in my heart, & challenge me to bloom my best regardless of how much time that’s left.
Holding the Sun in my Heart.
Yesterday all the yellows, reds & golds descended in my home through the kindness of people I’ve known for a long long time.
So I felt very compelled to dress up for the flowers and take some pictures to honour them and their givers.
Flowers make us smile & teach us to hold everything lightly.
May the blessings of flowers open our heart & mind, for our good and the good of others. 😊🙏
The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche.
My first copy of “The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying,” came from Borders the Bookshop at Wheelock Place. I bought it out of curiosity.
I had what I called “reader’s block,” and gave the book away in 2012. My inability or refusal to accept then that life ends despite our best efforts probably kept me from receiving the guidance in the book.
Over the years, the passing of 10 cats and 1 dog in my care, and the gruesome deaths of cherished community cats from dog attacks have eroded my state of denial. Death is just round the corner.
And with Emmanuel & Oliver’s deteriorating health, I’ll be witnessing death for the 11th & 12th time.
They are my longest living cats. I need to be better prepared for their passing so as to do justice to their companionship of 18 years.
So last week I ordered a copy of “The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying,” after assessing my receptivity to it via Libby APP.
Today as First Tutee and Granduncle came to see Oliver and pray over him, the book also arrived. 🙏❤️😊
First Tutee sees Oliver as his First Cat. They met in 2017.
So every thing has its timing. What we cannot understand or refuse to understand will make sense at some point. And friends who live in our thoughts will appear at the right time when needed.
And I cannot ask for a better alignment of intention, needs and spiritual aid like the one I had today. 🙏🪔
“It’s ok, I can manage,” was my habitual response when I thought the young man at the Uniqlo fitting room was asking if I needed a stool to sit on while trying on clothes. I have seen my share of sales staff being bullied by the self-entitled, so I try my best not to add on to their burden.
Furthermore, years of trying to blend in with the able bodied for fear of being considered not good enough at school and at work have made me apologetic about my handicap and to overcompensate for it.
Truth be known, at the heart of all these efforts to cope with my physical limitations to the point of ignoring them, is the deep dread of rejection & abandonment.
You know how it is. In the wild, animals, including the new borns, are left to die if they show signs of physical weakness or injury. An injured animal will also try his best to mask his pains for as long as possible to avoid evoking the predatory instincts of the others.
And so it is with humans. Be it a limp or a lisp, the fear of mockery looms, especially when you are a child, and haven’t figured out how to navigate among the normals.
Compassion & Wisdom are ofen the first casualties when resources are limited and survival hangs on a thread.
So I learnt at a very young age, not to seek special treatment if I wanted to be included.
But the Uniqlo Angel would not back off. He took one look at my leg & cane, and decided that I would need a cubicle for the disabled to try on my clothes.
Striding confidently ahead, he lifted a grey curtain to reveal a brightly lit cubicle large enough to accommodate a wheel chair, and equipped with handrails and cushioned seat for the physically challenged.
And the way he secured the curtain you would have thought he invented the cubicle himself.
“Take your time,” said the lanky youth who saw through my carefully constructed armour of lies as he looked me in the eye. ❤️😄
A young girl in my tuition class spoke about how she would want nothing more than her pair of pet parrots to be returned to her if she could wish for any birthday present. She was responding to an oral exam prompt we were practising for mid year.
The parrot paraphenilia is indicative of how much my student loves her pet partot.
Last week I handed her a parrot pin given by a former student who is completing her oceanography studies in Australia.
When I told the recipient that the pin was given by a brave young woman, and how it might serve as a reminder of how well she had articulated her thoughts, she immediately attached the parrot pin onto her fabric pencil case.
This week she came to class with print outs of her parrots playing & napping when they were with her.
She beamed proudly when I took an interest in the hastily cut pictures of her lost companions.
She must have waited for some time to share her sadness without the fear of being called childish or a cry baby.
Occasionally in the midst of practising language skills, a hidden grief or suppressed sorrow pops up, and the teacher gets the chance to become the comforter.
In letting a child express sadness without rushing in to help her “feel better,” she gets to process her loss and maybe learn to live with it in time to come. It’s only when we know how to live with the imperfections of life then we’re in a position to recognise its magnificence.
I shall return these precious print outs to my student framed.
Lisa Ong 