A Celebration of Aquarians

20 Jan 2020

In the blink of an eye I’ll be crossing 55.

Last Saturday a birthday dinner hosted by my former student, Jonathan Leong, for his wife and his father included me in the celebration as well.

This was my first sighting of a birthday cake with 3 names – Joseph (Jon’s father), Jeneen (Jon’s wife) and Miss Ong (Jon’s teacher, me).

A very special birthday cake with no wastage.

I’ve known Jon since he was in his teens, taught him Macbeth, cheered for him when he entered Singapore Idol, and celebrated his wedding to Jeneen.

And I’m forever indebted to Jon’s mom, Mary and dad Joseph, for giving rescued dog, Toto, a loving home, when he had no place to go.

A celebration of Aquarians, made possible by Jonathan Leong. (18 Jan 2020)

The familial touch at the peranakan dinner setting was further enhanced by Jon’s secret invitation of his parents’ childhood friends and their offspring.

So there we were, parents, grandparents, fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, baby and teacher from different dialect groups, faiths and ages gathered as a family to give thanks for the smooth passing of the year and for the year ahead.

A family of parents, grandparents, husbands, wives, baby & teacher. (18 Jan 2020)

As expected of a chinese peranakan eating place, conversations happened at random over the aromas of lemon grass, blue ginger, spices & chillies.

Like a typical matriarch, Jon’s mom’s, favourite command was, “Eat more!” as she piled food on the plates of those seated closest to her.

The 11 month old baby guest from across the table beamed like a little Buddha each time I made eye contact with him or waved at his chubby presence. Baby guest’s grandpa told us proudly that anyone can hold his grandson who accepts all cuddles without a fuss.

I felt very welcomed & included although I was the only unmarried person at the dining table, with no real blood ties to the two Catholic families.

And Jon’s birthday gift to me was an artwork of the Dalai Lama rendered in black ink by a long time friend of his.

The Dalai Lama rendered in ink by a long time friend of Jon, who makes a living as an artist. Dalai Lama’s teachings help me not to be afraid of suffering but to learn to reduce it through compassion & wisdom.

Seated next to me, Jon’s wife, Jeneen spoke softly as she recounted her animal sightings on an African safari trip last year. Her eyes lit up when she recalled the magical moments of holding her breath as an elephant approached them.

Despite lots of dining noise and waiters moving around us, I could hear every word she was saying, as if I too was in Africa. There were the leopard, the twin lions, the impalas, the giraffes, the lioness who failed to catch her prey, and the heavy African clouds that seemed to cocoon them in an entirely different universe.

She beamed lovingly as she showed me pictures of Jon cuddling the cat that visited them each morning when they were staying at a vineyard, and another of her husband touching nose with a donkey.

When the evening ended, I felt very hopeful on behalf of animals, that someone as gentle and delicate looking as Jeneen would travel a long way from Singapore, take multiple domestic flights and obey all the safari rules just so they can see animals living free.

And this feeling of hope that youngsters after me are caring towards animals also counts as birthday gift to me. ♥️

Jeneen and I, two Aquarian women posing with the gorgeous Chinese New Year centre piece of Buddha’s Hand Plant (佛手) in the lobby of True Blue Peranakan Restaurant. (18 Jan 2020)

Learning from a Radish

Learning from a Radish

20 Jan 2020

All beings grow at their own pace, even if they belong to the same species or family.

It takes compassion, not intelligence, to recognise the different needs and growth pace, and wisdom to see slowness and fastness both have their roles to play.

Just trying to survive. I picked this particular radish bec it looked battered and scarred. It might make a gd salad but given its appearance, it is likely to end up in the trash when new stock arrives. So I bought it the way someone might adopt an ugly dog. Only I am not cultivated enough to commit such a great act of kindness yet. So I start with radish.

While I celebrate the proliferation of leaves on one radish, I am even more grateful to the other for just trying to survive.

Every boy is our nephew, and every girl our niece.

17 Jan 2020

This afternoon, the pet supplies arrived. There were kibbles, canned food and pee pads for the feline mob I share my home with.

If I’m not home, the goods will be discreetly stacked outside my door till I return.

Today I was home. So I gave the delivery boy a small tip by placing some money in a red packet that has 4 gold characters 一帆顺风 on it. They wish the recipient great ease in all undertakings .

As I handed the non-Chinese boy the red packet I took care to explain to him what the characters on it meant. Then I wished him smooth travel and safe driving wherever he goes in the course of his job.

He was very touched by the gesture. Delivery staff often brave crazy traffic, & tight deadlines, not to mention bearing the brunt of clients’ anger when the delivery goes wrong.

My nephews and their mom at the temple on Chinese New Year in 2018.

I have 2 nephews. In a few years’ time they’ll enter the workforce.

I make it a point to address service staff respectfully and look them in the eye. Xiao Wang (小汪)of Pan Pacific taught me how to book ferry tickets to Kinmen. (June 2019)

I believe when I’m kind to other people’s sons and daughters, my nephews will meet kind people too. So I needn’t worry about who they will meet, because everyone has the potential to be kind.

Celebrating Chinese New Year in 2018 with a group of daughters.

Returning (归来)

16 January 2020

I don’t normally approve of stealing.

But there was this Chinese magazine that I wanted badly, but couldn’t get hold of or subscribe to because of my weak command of the Chinese Language.

This elusive magazine is known as 金门文艺 or Kinmen Literature. It is a collection of mostly Kinmen inspired literary and art pieces published bi-annually by people who are determined to promote & preserve Kinmen’s intangible heritage.

I like the artistic layout of its cover page, and the feel of its paper quality. I cherish the chance to have a glimpse of the Kinmen spirit through the poems, essays, artworks, photographs and even advertisements of Gaoliang wine that appear in the magazine.

But most of all, I’m in love with Kinmen Literature because Kinmen is where my grandma was born.

The map of Kinmen Island resembles a puppy making a play bow. Olli the cat of course has to assert his feline stake, so that dogs will know who really owns the world.

As a Chinese woman who makes a living teaching English Language and Literature, I felt that an annual subscription of Kinmen Literature would let me stay connected to Kinmen while honoring the team behind this labour of love.

Kinmen Island lies in the sea between mainland China and Taiwan. It is 20 mins away by ferry from Xiamen and less than an hour by flight from the Song Shan Military Airport in Taipei. There are no direct flights from Singapore to Kinmen Island. The song lyrics of “漂洋过海来看你” (Crossing oceans & seas to see you) by Jonathan Li was deeply felt as I made those crossings for my grandma.

Last September in 2019, on the day of our flight from Kinmen to Taiwan for our return flight to Singapore, I saw copies of the 67th edition of Kinmen Literature at the Kinmen Airport reading lounge.

Should I just “take” one copy to Sg as a souvenir? Who knows when will I be able to return to Kinmen again?

And after all there was no cashier counter where I could make payment for the copy even if I had wanted to, the thief in me reasoned.

Furthermore there was no sign saying that the magazine had to be returned, the justification for dishonesty strengthened.

But then again there was no information anywhere that stated the magazine was free either. A sliver of light broke through my muddled mind.

Pre-boarding, my thoughts continued to oscillate between keeping the magazine which was actually stealing, and letting it go.

Finally at the last moment, I decided to return it to the shelves where I found it.

But not before taking many many shots of the copy next to my walking cane as if the magazine was a person.😊

Kinmen Literature & my walking cane overlooking the airport runway of Kinmen Airport before I put the magazine back in the reading lounge.

In mid-November 2019, a couple of months after I triumphed over the temptation of taking what’s not mine in Kinmen, an Facebook friend from Taiwan asked if we could meet up. She was in Singapore for a very short visit.

Miao Ling (陈妙玲)had read my Facebook posts about my grandma’s childhood and my journeys in Kinmen for her. Even though Miao Ling knew I wasn’t proficient in Chinese and might not even have time to meet her, she decided to bring a copy of the latest edition of Kinmen Literature for me!♥️

Holding the 68th publication of Kinmen Literature hand delivered from Taiwan to Singapore for me, courtesy of editorial member, Ms Chen Miao Ling. She had read my subscription enquiries.

At the Nanyang Cafe in Chinatown Point on 16 Nov 2019, I received my very own copy of the literary magazine from Ms Chen Miao Ling, who was also on the editorial team of the magazine that I coveted.

Miao Ling (陈妙玲) took the trouble to bring a copy of Kinmen Literature to Sg for me without even knowing if she had the time to meet up with me. 🙏

Miao Ling indulged me as I gushed in a mixture of English, Chinese and Minan Dialect about my encounters with Kinmen Literature, including the attempt to steal one from the Kinmen Airport.

And so there we were, two modern day Kinmen daughters exchanging information of our family histories.

As we spoke, we felt the fears & tears of daughters before us in olden times, many as young as 7 or 9 years old, forced to leave their homes to be raised by near strangers because of changes in their family fortunes brought on by politics & wars.

Before we parted, Miao Ling & I took some pictures together. A Filipino lady from across our table helped us to record this meet up that started a century ago, in 1914, the birth year of my grandma.

It’s now 2020. Last week I learnt that my grandma’s love for Kinmen and my visits have found their way to Kinmen Daily (金門日報) and Indonesian- Chinese Daily (印華日報) through Miao Ling’s writing.

Miao Ling’s essay in the Indonesian-Chinese Daily dated 6 Jan 2020. To the writer and those proficient in the Chinese Language, please accept my apology in advance if my interpretation does not do justice to Miao Ling’s words. 🙏

In her essay, Miao Ling likened the 108 chimes of the temple bell in her childhood to my grandma’s constant pining for her birthplace.

She communicated poignantly my attempts to sync with Kinmen and my grandma’s 3 phrases of attachment to her birthplace that she recited like a mantra throughout her life.

Miao Ling’s publication in the newspaper has enabled an unknown 7-year-old girl, born more than a 100 years ago in Kinmen, to return to the embrace of her birthplace.

Love can really cross oceans and seas, transcend histories and navigate around all kinds of logistical & language difficulties.

Our duty is perhaps not to be disheartened or feel silly, and talk ourselves out of loving what matters to us.

A copy just for me. ♥️

To give or not to give

13 Jan 2020

It had been on my mind since last December to contribute to the veterinary bills of a shelter dog called Dahua.

Because of my other long term financial commitments in animal relief, I wasn’t sure if I have enough to make a small once off contribution to her vet bills that have amounted to slightly more than 5k.

On Boxing Day 2019, this 9-year-old girl dog survived a surgery to remove a growth in her spleen. The next day she had two cardiac arrests and she was gone.

Dahua was the sole survivor of dog poisoning that killed her mom & siblings. Although much loved by her rescuers and shelter caregivers who took her on adoption drives, she never got adopted.

The shelter has been posting appeals for donation to cover Dahua’s vet bills. I wanted to help but was unsure if I should since I only have a part-time income.

So I made a wish as my birthday was near. I wished that whatever cash gifts I get, they will go to animal relief work.

But I would have to give first.

Yet this morning at the ATM, I hesitated. I wanted to transfer $200 to the shelter for Dahua, but ended up giving $130 instead, for fear of not having enough for myself.

After that I did some grocery shopping, making sure I bought just what I would eat. I did however, buy 4 red Chinese radish to welcome Spring. 😄

Ollie welcomes the red chinese radish.

On my walk home from the supermarket, I stopped by the park bench for a rest & saw a mynah picking up twigs to build her nest. The bird got me thinking of the pregnant mouse found by May Sarton, still holding in her paws bits of straws for her unfinished nest as she lay dead from ingesting poison laid out by farmers. My thoughts went naturally to Dahua again as she had been poisoned when she was a puppy.

What humans casually consider as pest or strays have very real life & death struggles of their own.

As I was sitting there thinking about these animals’ often unseen and hard lives, I received a message from my bank:

“So-and-so would like to send you SGD 200.00. Use the passcode provided by him/her to accept this amount at…”

Is this a hoax?

I texted my friend whose name was on the bank’s message for confirmation.

Indeed the SGD200.00 was from her. She wanted me to use the money in any way I deemed fit for animals.

I was teary. Less than 2 hours ago, I was lingering at the ATM, wondering if somebody like me with reduced earnings, and aging, was still in the position to donate $200 to help an animal.

“God told me to send the money,” my friend texted. She had been very busy at work. But divine intervention had led her to make the money transfer at the period when I was asking if my giving would deplete me.

My friend and I are from different spiritual backgrounds. She’s been questioning God’s existence and the teachings of her religious community. She felt that her role in the giving episode was a gentle reminder that her faith hasn’t been in vain and her relationship with the invisible God is real.

And I learnt now faith is not really about the absence of doubts nor the presence of unquestioned obedience. Or feeling capable and being in-charge.

Faith for me is perhaps the constant practice of testing & forging ahead, guided by the practice of kindness to the most vulnerable, despite the doubts & uncertainties at the back of my mind.

Dahua trusted her caregivers, and in faith they had put her through the surgery.

The dog’s physical life may have ended on 27 December 2019. But less than a month later on 13 Jan 2020, she has become the portal through which two friends felt the giving hands of the Divine.

What a well-lived life!

Dahua being loved and giving love.

OM in black for the Full Moon

9 Jan 2020

Black is accommodating.

It hides what is not ready to be seen.

Black is giving.

It stays in the background to allow others to shine.

May the full moon tonight bless our mind with wisdom, so that we can see beyond our emotions, and learn to rely on the comforting presence of darkness to recover, for our benefit and for the benefit of others.

Light to help us befriend not dispel Darkness, so that we can heal.

Hero’s Assurance

9 Jan 2019 (Full Moon)

My first penmanship gift from Sharonne in 2020.

I’ve been using blue ink to teach penmanship to younger students since 2014. Blue is easier to clean and more forgiving on kids’ clothes. And I’ve used blue so regularly that I’ve forgotten about black.

But ever since this new year when I started writing OM, my interest in black ink has returned.

OM in blue.

So the day before yesterday, I went to West Coast Plaza specifically to collect my shoes at the cobbler’s, and to look for black ink at the stationery supplies store there.

First Tutee shows Ollie pictures of themselves taken when he was in primary 1. He’s in primary 3 this year. 😊

I was in a bit of a rush to return home where First Tutee, now in Primary 3, was dropping by for his first lesson of 2020.

When I got home I realised I had forgotten to check out the bottle of HERO black ink at the cashier’s. It was still sitting on the shelf where I had placed it for safe keeping when I left.

As I couldn’t justify taking a cab back to the store just to pick up a bottle of ink, I decided to let the matter rest.

Yesterday, over lunch at Fortune Centre, my friend, Sharonne, whom I’ve known for 37 years gave me a present.

It was a HERO penmanship gift set made up of a fountain pen and a bottle of ink. She had bought it at Sisyphus Book Store in Hangzhou, China, where she spent many happy hours.

And the colour of the ink?

It had to be black of course. 😊

It feels humbling & assuring that the black ink has made its way to me despite my inability to purchase it on my own.

So I wish for my friends and all sentient beings the same assurance and the same ease that have been experienced by me, as they go about heroically creating better lives for themselves & for others.

Happy Full Moon! ♥️🌈🐾

Timeless Appeal of Joy

8 Jan 2019

Sharonne’s CNY shopping achievements today.

Sharonne and I met in our late teens in the early 80s.

In our early 20s.

Between the two of us we must have eaten hundreds of plates of fried kuay teow at the NUS Arts Canteen during our student days.

When we became teachers, it was with her that I took my first flight on Air Romania to Holland to visit our friend, Mee Geok Liau. That summer while on a day trip to Belgium, we stumbled upon a a little restaurant on a medieval street and celebrated Sharonne’s birthday there. The name of the street was Zandstraat.

Sharonne got me a Hero fountain pen & a bottle of black ink. We took this pic at Guam Imm temple with the apsaras behind us.

Now in our 50s, having a vegetarian meal at Fortune Centre, making a temple visit and buying loud Chinese New Year decorations evoke the same giddy happiness we felt when we were just girls 37 years ago.

It is wonderful to know that joy remains or may even become more intense with the passing years.

Staying Sweet for 2020

6 Jan 2020

First Parcel in 2020 for a friend whom I hardly see but is always supportive of my animal work since 2007.

School & work started on the 2nd day of 2020 for most in Singapore.

Since primary school days the ending of the old year and the beginning of the new one carry great significance for me.

As I age, I find myself more selective and making more efforts in the simplest of activities that I partake in around this season. (This would be the main reason why I need to operate alone. 😄)

Ollie poses with a Street Dog Care calendar from Nepal. This was the first gift I mailed out in 2020.

So on the 2nd day of 2020, I decided that leaving my house to make a trip to the post office to mail a calendar to a friend was top priority.

Now the taxi fare to & fro would easily cost me at least $14, and if I were pragmatic, I should have waited a few more days to gather up more errands and mail her the calendar while I was running them. But this friend definitely deserves more, and shall not be part of my errands.

My sore throat was also healing. Although I didn’t think it auspicious to begin the new year with one, it had the benefit of making me stay home to write OM and drink honey water.

After the Westgate Post Office, I stopped by a costume jewelry counter on my way to the supermarket.

The counter was just on the walkway of the mall so it wasn’t even in a proper shop.

Ollie, like Planet Jupiter, wears my choker of 12 moons.

But the salesgirl on duty that day was dressed as if she was working for Cartier.

She showed the low priced trinkets respectfully to customers who were mostly in carefree and casual clothes.

I was immediately impressed by her regal air even though her retail space was tiny & cluttered, and even though she only had a plastic stool to sit on, despite looking like a million dollars.

When she saw me, she was very interested in the rudraksha beads on my wrist and tried to recall their Mandarin name.

“Boudhi Seeds (菩提子),” I offered.

The young Queen smiled.

After she realised I understood Mandarin, she started telling me how she liked the way my choker looked against black.

This 12-moon choker of buffalo horn reminds me of Jupiter and has accompanied to many places. Its bovine presence often allows total strangers to relax and smile at me.

I returned the Queen’s kindness by complimenting her on her youth and dress sense, and she replied, “我只是年轻罢了。而你的时尚是打从骨子里来的.” (Rough Transl: I’m just young, but your style is bone deep).

As I watched Her Grace greeting customers who didn’t even bother to look at her, I felt I needed to give her something to remind her of her sweetness.

So before I left the mall, I bought an extra bottle of honey from GNC and went back to the costume jewellery counter to give it to her.

“May your life be sweet no matter who you meet.”

At first she looked a little puzzled. Then she held up the bottle of honey and revealed excitedly that this was her first gift from Singapore! She had only been working here for a month plus. And for her to receive honey at the start of the new year was auspicious, she gushed.

And standing tall on her fine stockinged legs, the Queen bent low to ask if I could give her a hug!

As I did, I wished her a happy and youthful 2020 and may the honey gift remind her of her own sweetness, and to remain sweet no matter what kind of customers she meets.

First Word of 2020

3 Jan 2019

There are several understandings of “OM”. My favourites are “OM” is the first sound of creation and has the ability to neutralise pride,the cause of fear and jealousy.

I spent the 1st day of 2020 in relative silence while practising to write OM in the Tibetan Uchen style for the first time.

“Start writing OM,” has been on my mind the past few years but I never got round to it because I was waiting for the “perfect” timing, “perfect” video and “perfect” calligraphy book to get started.

In Nepal, the book sellers in Thamel & Boudha that I checked with didn’t seem to sell the practise book that will show me the sequence of the strokes that I needed to see before I could write the character. Did such a practise book even exist? I only started to do online searches for it after my failed attempts in Nepal.

And during the search I indulged in almonds. So over the last few days leading to this new year I developed a sore throat.

That was how Silence descended. Seclusion followed quickly as the need to rest my voice caused me to abstain from all social gatherings. Together, they created the space I needed to pursue the long awaited OM.

“Please let me just know how to write OM, everything else will be a bonus,” I thought to myself as I viewed the video of Tashi Mannox writing the mantra of Great Compassion (OM MANI PADME HUM).

I’m a slow learner. I need to see the strokes in slow-mo if possible, run them through my head & be allowed to copy stroke for stroke before I can do it on my own. Many videos were too fast for me.

But Tashi Mannox’s video did it with his calm voice and deliberately unhurried movements.

So that was how I learnt to write my first word on the first day of 2020.

Balinese Hindus celebrate their New Year called Nyepi by going into self imposed silence and seclusion, so that they can retreat, reflect and be renewed.

As I lack the cultural practice nor the lineage to create such a ritual on my own, the Universe has kindly turned a sore throat into an opportunity to start the year with an ancient and sacred word, “OM”.

So I wish for all my friends and all sentient beings the same benevolence that has been bestowed on me to create a positive outcome from a negative situation.

May you be kind. May you be auspicious. May you be full of grace.

Tashi Delek.

The strokes that made up OM had intrigued me for as long as I remember. They resemble a person dancing. While practising OM, memories of my secondary school bio lessons on bones came back. In those days I had a compulsion to study the bone samples from angles that were not required by the syllabus. I started seeing the bones as pillars, trees and balconies and drew them the way I saw them. My very unscientific renderings drove my Bio teacher insane, but I kept at it even when I knew my diagrams would be rejected and I would fail in that component. Perhaps those bone sketches were my early attempts to write OM which I didn’t know exist.