26 Dec 2019
The Sun is reborn after this afternoon’s solar eclipse.
May the New Sun and tonight’s New Moon herald beginnings of the highest good for all sentient beings in 2020.
My Brother’s Gift on Christmas Eve
25 Dec 2019
Late afternoon on Christmas Eve, my brother came to help me clean the ceiling fans and windows.
Standing on the ladder, he removed the layers of dust that had accumulated over this year. I stood by to pass him wet wipes and cleaning cloth that had been rinsed.
Bit by bit as the dirt came off we shared thoughts about our childhood, our parents and what we were grateful for and what we could have done better with our own lives and our family.
In between cleaning he stopped for cigarettes and to play with the cats.
By dinner time, the blades of the ceiling fans were gleaming and the glass panels of doors and windows in my home were sparkling, with bits of touch ups which I can do easily on my own. (He came mainly to clean the parts that I couldn’t reach.)
After that, we had dinner with our mother at the coffee shop down my block.
Christmas Eve marks the incarnation of God becoming Man. In our attempts to attain godliness through cleanliness, we might have a tendency to treat the less attractive and dirtier aspects of our humanness with disgust, instead of compassion like the way my brother cleared the dust in my home with light-hearted patience on Christmas Eve.
Cold Man
23 Dec 2019
This December was our 8th year at the Tribuhvan Airport to catch our flight from Nepal to Singapore.
After a long day of queuing & waiting, we finally made it to the gate where we would be bussed to our plane.
It was evening. It had been drizzling all day. I was looking forward to the comfort of a SilkAir seat when a young woman from the ground staff appeared in our transit area.
She announced nervously that our flight was cancelled. The incoming flight crew had exceeded the stipulated flight time. For safety reasons, the flight had to be rescheduled to the next day, and the timing was still unknown.
Like a movie on rewind, we plodded out of the transit room and trudged back to the counters to have our pass ports stamped “Flight Cancelled” and dragged ourselves to the dreaded check-in counters to return our boarding passes.
Passengers with connecting flights from Singapore were understandably more vocal in expressing their anxieties, but most of us were able to contain our frustrations.
More standing followed as we waited for clearance and further instructions. Some staff were on the phones, some staring at computer screens, and all trying their best to avoid eye contact with irate passengers, and clearly no one was in charge.
In the midst of all the above, a young man, maybe in his late twenties, left the counter where all his colleagues seemed to be milling about and walked among us.
He was a good looking man, but he had an arrogant air about him as he looked at people as if through his nose. But he seemed the only one who was actively managing the queues. When he saw me, he pointed to the chairs & said softly, “You can sit. Sit down.”
For a moment I couldn’t match the kind tone to the cold face. On hindsight, I think appearing detached could just be a defence mechanism when facing a bunch of tired & tense people.
Some time later he came to ask me to sit down again.
When the buses to take us to the Crowne Plaza Hotel where we would spend the night arrived, they were quickly filled up.
A group of us had to wait for the next one.
By now, night had deepened, we hadn’t taken dinner and the winter drizzle seemed to be gathering power.
As I was wondering just how long more we had to stand in the open cold, I saw Cold Man speaking animatedly to his suited superior standing by a hotel van, presumably to ferry business class passengers.
In the stone cold silence I still had no idea what was going on except that Cold Man kept gesticulating at me as he spoke to his mustachioed boss. When his expressions got more earnest, it dawned on my frozen brain that he was trying to get me on the hotel van so that I need not wait a minute longer for the bus!
Thanks to Cold Man’s persistence, some of us had a pleasant ride in comfort to our destination where hot showers and dinner awaited.
I never learnt Cold Man’s name, don’t know his position except that he broke ranks to make things a little easier for someone in need. And I’ll always remember how passionately he persuaded his boss on a cold rainy winter night to care.
Namaste. Indeed.
Undoing the Past
22 Dec 2019 (Winter Solstice)
Among ethnic Chinese, the Winter Solstice or ” 冬至” (tong zhi) is a time for reflection, thanksgiving and fulfilling one’s spiritual duties.
A simple but significant food to mark this season is the glutinous rice flour balls or dumplings. It is called “汤圆”（tang yuan), deriving its name from the spherical shapes that connote concepts of auspiciousness such as roundness, smoothness and completion.
The preparation of this dish enables family members to gather at a table as they bond over flour kneading and the shaping of dough sticks into balls. The carefully shaped balls are then boiled in sweetened water and offered to deities, ancestors and the living.
In my childhood, tension among adult family members caused me to dread the yearly affair of rice ball making.
Stuck in the kitchen I picked up my mom’s mood swings & mean remarks as I quietly rolled the flour into little balls.
When we switched to buying ready made rice balls from the supermarket instead of making them, I was glad but sad at the same time.
So this year, on Solstice morning, well into my 50s, I decided to go back in time and undo the misery of the little girl trapped in the kitchen of my childhood.
I gave thanks for the glutinous rice flour that I bought. As I gently rubbed the dough between my palms and marvelled at the comfort of its powdery smoothness, my heart was lifted.
And there and then, happiness returned!
I boiled the rice balls in ginger and brown sugar syrup which my mother bought from Taiwan.
And after offering 5 rice balls to the sky, earth, water, ancestors and all sentient beings, and 9 to Wisdom and Compassion, there were still 7 left for me to enjoy.
And the 7 rice balls tasted just like the ones in my childhood, only this time they are so much smoother! 😊
Rice ball offering to bless sky, earth, water, ancestors and all sentient beings.
Honouring Ancestor
21 Dec 2019
Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice. Today is my grandma’s 28th death anniversary.
She was born on Kinmen Island in 1914. This year I visited her birthplace twice and walked the streets in the old city she would have walked in when she was a kid.
This June as I was wondering what item of importance that belonged to her could I still find to take with me on my trip, a much cherished silver belt that she wore all her life emerged.
And a few days ago, while buying coffee powder at Sheng Shiong, I came across her favourite fruit known as Salak or Snake Fruit. As far as I can remember the Salak is the only fruit my grandma cared about.
Yesterday a friend invited me to hang out with him at Boon Lay Shopping Centre. We had lunch, foot massage and bought flowers at the Indian grocery shop.
My grandma also loved having flowers in her hair.
So today instead of travelling to the columbarium to stand a few minutes in front of my grandma’s niche, I decided to take my time & quietly dedicate a mandala made up of her favourite things.
And I hope as we find our own ways of acknowledging our forefathers & foremothers, what’s broken can be mended and what’s good can become even better, for our own benefit and the benefit of all sentient beings. ♥️🌈🐾
Becoming Special
20 Dec 2019
On our second day in Nepal (6 Dec) , a little vase on our table at the Third Eye Restaurant in Thamel caught our eye with its simplicity. It stood humbly among all the grander looking cuisine serving utensils.
Holding a single stalk of marigold, the brass vase reminded me of the Velveteen Rabbit which held a sprig of holly between its paws on christmas morning.
As it looked very ordinary we thought we should be able to find it at any of the shops in Thamel or Boudha.
We were wrong.
We also forgot to take a picture of it.
And in the midst of all our activities, we soon stopped looking or asking.
On our final day day in Nepal, it drizzled. After checking out of the hotel, we went back to the Third Eye Restaurant for lunch.
This time we asked a member of the staff where we could get the vase. The young lady was very happy with our interest and quickly gave us the details to the location where we could buy it.
So two hours before we were taken to Tribhuvan Airport for our flight back to Singapore, Ron & El rushed to Ason Market where the locals get their homewares. There they bought 2 pairs of the exact vases like the ones from the restaurant.
It was still drizzling when they returned from the market. I received my pair as if they were archaeological discoveries.
I know there are hundreds of such vases around. But ours will always be special because it took some effort to get them. Furthermore our enquiries had made a Nepali girl happy, seeing that her country’s traditional wares could still be so charming.
Order and Chaos; Clean and Unclean.
19 Dec 2019
With its chaotic traffic, massive swirls of wires hanging above ground, crumbling buildings and air pollution, Kathmandu is not a place that readily comes to mind when one is thinking of retreat and rest.
Yet, in the midst of the valley’s madness, intricately carved and perfectly symmetrical woodworks & stoneworks adorned doorways and windows, creating an air of unmatched serenity and inspiring me to seek alignment from within.
From this valley of unpredictability, where power cuts happen regularly unannounced, craftsmen go about calmly setting semi precious stones against impossibly detailed & highly decorative silver works of filigree.
Perhaps this constant practice of melting, cutting, shaping and welding metals to minerals to create objects of beauty has alchemised in these workers a high tolerance for the ugliness of difficult customers, exploitative employers and other hardships.
Then there are the buddhist arts (tangka) drawn free hand in such breathtaking precision and with such a pleasing balance of colours that the seller has to keep reminding us with great pride, “this not machine made…this MADE BY MAN,” as we stared in mute wonder, at the scroll he unveiled before us while cars honked impatiently behind us.
Like the mangy fur of a dog that holds a clean heart, Kathmandu has shown me that using observable evidence to appraise someone’s inner world or history may be convenient and even natural, but it’s still not the truth.
Kathmandu forces me to cover my nose, slap on sunblock, drink only boiled water and take other safety precautions, while liberating me from prejudices and insularity at the same time.
I’m deeply honoured to have been allowed to visit Nepal year after year since 2011.
Namaste. Tashi Delek.
🙏🌈🐾
Holding Hands
17 Dec 2019
I was 10 month old learning to walk on my own by holding onto the wall for support when poliomyelitis found me.
3 months of hospitalization later, I got back my life in exchange for a permanent limp. Considering many afflicted peers with paralysis that bound them to wheel chairs for life and some even needing machines to help them breathe, my crippled leg was just a slight dent on the paintwork.
After surviving polio, maintaining balance became a lifelong preoccupation that took up a lot of my energy. It is a bit like someone training to be a world class gymnast, only in my case, this wasn’t the path I would have chosen if given a choice.
I grew up envying those who could walk effortlessly, dance and skip freely, while I had to and still do, think about every step that I make.
Are there things on the ground to trip me? Pine cones? Satay sticks?
Have I missed a spot of alage on the step of a world heritage site that might cause me to slip?
Will the curb after the zebra crossing be too high for me to get onto?
Will there be steps? If yes, how many? How deep are they? Will there be a railing for me to hold onto? Is the railing sturdy enough to bear my weight or is it there for aesthetics purposes only?
Over the years these questions for self-preservation have trained me not to jump to conclusions, and not to make light of other people’s difficulties. They have also prompted me to listen for the unspoken anxieties and to observe the invisible pain of others.
A couple of months back, I was at an outing to the Esplanade with overseas students studying at a private school in Singapore.
As we were walking towards the open stage facing the Singapore River, a 24 year old student from India asked me, “Ma’am would you like me to hold your hand? You’ll feel more balanced and it’s easier to walk.”
He went on to explain that he came from a village that hosts pilgrims two to three times a year. He’s very familiar with aches and pains. So for the rest of the evening India & Singapore held hands and walked all over Esplanade, exchanging looks of amusement with each other when passers by went all judgy over a handsome Indian man holding hands with a woman of his grandma’s age. 🤣
During our Nepal trip this December, whether it was for worldly reasons such as ascending the stairs of hotels & cafes, or to meet spiritual agendas such as circumambulating the Boudha Stupa and carrying medical supplies, El and Ron took turns to hold my hands and walk with me at my pace.
Boudha pilgrims stopped to look at us but usually to smile and make remarks in Tibetan or Nepali in encouraging tones.
For many of us, having a hand to hold onto in this pilgrimage called Life is a pragmatic necessity. It is beyond romantic as popular culture would have us believed.
So I like to wish for all my friends to study and respect your hands and the hands of others, so that at the right time, they may become gateways to the Divine.
Namaste. Tashi Delek. 🙏🌈🐾
Premium Location
11 Dec 2019 (at Boudha Stupa, Nepal)
For us in a capitalist economy, properties are more than places to shelter from the elements. Property ownership is used to strengthen our survival chances, secure positions in society and acquire power over others.
In Singapore, a property is measured in terms of its age and location, among other criteria, because these qualities impact its resale value.
I could be lacking in business acumen or short on survival skills, but there’s something a little cold and sad about the practice of buying something with the intention of re-selling it.
I think this practice can also undermine our sincerity with people, animals and environment insidiously in the long run.
Do we make friends with people so that we can trade them for other benefits when it suits us?
Do we judge people’s character and potential based on their residential addresses?
At the Boudha Stupa, the snagged tooth dog toasting in the sun as he marinades in mantras offered by thousands of pilgrims on a daily basis adds another layer to our understanding of survival, power and position.
Wearing Prosperity
16 Dec 2019
When I buy clothes or trinkets , I have a habit of dedicating my purchases before I put them on because hard earned money has power.
And because money is hard earned, spending it at shops that allow street animals to rest at their entrances is very rewarding for me.
If a shop welcomes animals and not shoo them away, it tells me 3 things of its business owner and service staff.
Firstly they have kindness.
Secondly they have no fear of offending customers who don’t like animals.
Thirdly, their business is already prosperous because animal beings are drawn to their doorways.
So I hope by using products from these shops, I too will prosper and be of benefit to all sentient beings.
Namaste. Tashi Delek. ♥️🌈🐾
Lisa Ong 