29-09-2019
For generations the humble groundnuts have fed families & sent kids to school while keeping soil from slipping away in the farming communities.
May the new moon bless us with the generosity and tenacity of the groundnuts.
And may we cultivate a deep respect for our land that provides for all sentient beings.
29 Sep 2019
“I want to draw the devil!” the lanky boy replied as he studied my reaction. I had asked him if he would like to do art since he wasn’t in a mood to do English work.
He had been having one altercation after another since morning.
During English class a casual request from his fellow classmate to fill up his drinking bottle had easily spiralled downwards into a shouting match of vulgarities.
It’s difficult to imagine this doe-eyed individual capable of setting fire to public property. But then again there’s also an African saying that goes, “An unloved child will set fire to the whole village to feel its warmth.”
“Why don’t we give the devil a rest today and do some mandala colouring for a change?” I asked him calmly.
His defiance dropped a little. Perhaps he was puzzled by my suggestion.
I quickly produced Susanne Fincher’s book of mandala templates and a box of Derwent colouring pencils.
The sullen boy was mildly intrigued by the display of colours before him. But the residual anger from the storm that had broken held him back.
“Yes, you should try the mandala colouring! It took me damn long but it’s nice,” one of he boys who had an earlier confrontation with him quipped. This boy had completed two mandalas to date and was very proud of his ability to start & finish well.
The boy moved closer to my desk to have a better look at the mandalas completed by other students.
“Wow! This is nice! Who did this?” Hatred gave way to fascination as he ran his fingers over the beautiful circles.
It took him a while to choose his mandala template. When he finally did, he retreated to the corner of our study room and faced the wall to get started.
I desperately wanted him to face the large window to receive the healing light of the morning sun. His battered soul needed it.
But I knew that his brittle nerves would not tolerate being told where to sit. It was good as it was that he agreed not to draw the devil but colour a mandala instead.
So I watched him quietly from my desk.
Suddenly he stopped colouring and asked, “Miss Ong, how come these two colours on my mandala look the same even though I’m using different colour pencils?”
He was referring to chrome yellow and lemon yellow. He had used them side by side in his mandala.
I looked at what he had put on his mandala and said, “Your first colour is blue representing water. And your second colour is green representing earth. And you have used two kinds of yellow to represent the Sun. The Sun must be very important to you!” I said.
He beamed at my interpretation and like a primary school child, asked me to repeat every thing I just said.
The way he smiled and breathed as I repeated what his colours might mean looked like he was listening to some beautiful secret language that his soul understood.
I then went on to explain that the reason why he couldn’t tell the 2 yellows apart was because where he sat didn’t allow enough light to see clearly. Had he faced the window where the Sun was coming from he would have been able to differentiate the colours easily.
Without a word, he gathered all his materials and turned his chair towards the Sun.
And for the rest of the lesson there was peace as the boy concentrated on making his mandala beautiful. Whenever he looked up, there was the Sun smiling back at him.
So I wish for myself and all sentient beings the grace to look towards light for healing when disappointments in life make darkness feel good and inviting.
26 Sep 2019
I was resting in the temple courtyard when I chanced upon this rusty rack holding up containers of beautiful young plants.
This calls for a trip to IKEA, the Singaporean shopaholic in me remarked inwardly.
But somehow the rotting planks, rusty bits and worn out containers formed a poignant contrast to the succulent foliage.
It felt like I was looking at an altar dedicated to an Unseen Benevolence.
It felt like I was facing at altar dedicated to an Unseen Benevolent Presence.
I lingered respectfully and felt the compulsion to bow before moving on.
28 Sep 2019
“Every Friday, go spend some time & sit at a holy place…doesn’t matter what the religion is,” was a Hindu astrologer’s parting shot to me whenever we had tea at Cuff Road.
He had since passed on but each time I pass by holy places I think of him.
Yesterday evening I got the chance to be at a holy place on a Friday while a friend was conducting his prayers at the Sultan Masjid.
My original plan was to visit the shops at Haji Lane & Bussorah Street while my friend prayed.
But in the end I was just so happy sitting on a stone bench at the Malay Heritage Centre as the Friday prayers reverberated all around me.
23 Sept 2019 (Autumn Equinox)
My late maternal grandfather rarely spoke, but he was always writing or reading.
He would read the Chinese Language newspaper in Hokkien (Minnan) aloud while I giggled at the strange sounds.
Each year after I had purchased my new school supplies, I would put my new textbooks and exercise books on my grandfather’s desk.
He would spend the entire afternoon wrapping the covers of my textbooks and exercise books meticulously.
The whole book wrapping process was done in meditative silence. It felt like an elaborate ritual involving measuring, cutting, folding & pasting.
And if the wrapped book was a chinese language book, he would dip a brush in black ink and write my name in Chinese characters (王淑贞) on it.
By the way he protected my books and in the manner he wrote my name, my grandfather showed me reverence for knowledge and respect for a child.
And without using any grand gestures, my grandfather, a pig farmer and later on a temple caretaker who fed cats, ignited in me a love for animals, books and penmanship.
Half a century later, I would meet my First Tutee, a Malay child who would express interest in Chinese character writing even as I tutored him in English.
As my grandfather taught me to care for cats, First Tutee also learns to befriend them.
As I was taught to revere knowledge, First Tutee learns to celebrate Wisdom too.
22 Sep 2019
Two Sundays ago (8 Sept) we called on Wang Ling at the Local Teahouse (后浦泡茶间) in Houpu, Kinmen Island (金门）
She was my first point of Kinmen contact when I was reading up for my first trip in June to seek out my grandma’s birthplace.
On this second trip I was keen to show my travel mates, El & Ron, the juxtaposition of Wang Ling’s youthful hospitality with the nostalgic ambience of the quaint teahouse setting.
Over light Taiwanese tea paired with local kinmen snacks, conversations among the four of us from different backgrounds & ages flowed effortlessly.
The Local Teahouse was set up primarily to facilitate communication & cultural exchanges among young local working adults.
Apart from serving snacks & beverages, it also has specially curated merchandise & talks that promote interest and respect for folk cultures, literature, architecture and the arts. As a result, the Local Teahouse also welcomes overseas visitors.
On this trip I was also very eager to pick up my copy of Local-M Village Live Reader, a magazine that promotes village revitalisation through music and many interesting activities.
Along with the magazine, I was very happy to receive a book by scholar ethnographer, 唐蕙韻, of the Kinmen University.
The writer happens to share the same birthplace as my grandma. Even though she was born 58 years after my grandma, her book contains precious photos of old places in Houpu that my grandma might have seen and most certainly walked in.
The passage of time is indeed relentless.
In my search to make sense of life, my trembling hands have found support and my aging feet have found bridges to walk on, thanks to the youthful vigour and compassionate hearts of the people that I’ve had the great fortune to meet.
And I wish for all youthful passions to be augmented with wisdom and compassion, so that a better world could emerge through the building of bridges, not barricades.
21 Sep 2019
Kinmen Island is much more than a former military base or a war zone between the CCP and KMT.
This little island that has survived the ravages of bombing also contains shrines & human dwellings bearing features of Minnan architecture dating from 600 years ago.
Our lodging this time was in the village of Zhushan (珠山), a short drive from the old city of Houpu(后浦) where my grandma was born.
One morning as I sat gazing into the courtyard of the 200-year-old house while the birds chirped and a black butterfly lingered, I felt a deep sense of peace followed by gratitude to the Kinmen people, especially the elders.
The older generations had suffered terribly during the wars, but they held on to their homes so that someone like us get to savour the peace and appreciate a bit of history.
11-09-2019
The evening before we flew back to Taipei, we sat on a stone ledge near Grandma Ongg’s (翁奶奶) house in Kinmen Island and watched the moon rise. I was back to 5 years old again.
Some tourists passed us by. Too bogged down by their shopping bags and a bit anxious to locate their homestay houses they didn’t notice the Moon glowing benevolently above them.
The Moon wasn’t full yet, but her brilliance wasn’t any less because of that.
84-year-old Grandma Ongg had spotted us from the entrance of her 400-year-old house and decided to join us for a bit of moon watching.
We chatted in low tones and looked to the Moon as she weaved in & out of the clouds, her circular outline gaining prominence while we waited for her in the gathering dusk.
How often in our struggles with life we insist that we gotta be this or that in order to feel complete, when perhaps we are essentially complete. We just need time & space to notice it.
Like the almost full moon in Kinmen, we can still shine even if we’re chipped around the corners, or frayed around the edges by life’s challenges.
13 Sep 2019 (八月十五）
It was my first mid-autumn full moon observation away from Singapore, my home.
In the morning we visited Taipei’s 200-year-old temple dedicated to the Mother Goddess and received her blessings on behalf of all sentient beings, especially the animal rescuers and their animals.
After that we headed to an old part of town to meet a seal maker who has been in the engraving practice & trade since he was a teenager.
His explanations on font selection & placement according to the purpose for which a seal is made deepened my respect for the written characters.
And I began to understand why I’ve always been able to sense the subtle energies emitting from the characters I see in my surroundings.
8 Sep 2019
After a walkabout in Kinmen’s scorching summer sun we were grateful to enter the air-conditioned cocoon of Yuan’s taxi.
Still recovering from the glare, we asked our quiet driver to decide what he thought might be of meaning & interest to us. He knew we were there to listen & learn.
And he surprised us by taking us to the film set of “Paradise in Service,” (军中乐园). The film was shot in 2015 in Kinmen.
At its premier screening, soldiers who fought in their youth and now grandfathers were invited to watch the film with their loved ones. When the film ended, the whole theatre was filled with tears of old men and their grandkids.
We sat in reverential silence as our taxi cruised along the street flanked by flags on either side of the deserted film set, while Wang Jie’s (王杰), “An episode of game and an episode of dream,” (一场游戏，一场梦) played softly in the background.
Indeed whatever happens in our lives, and however intensely we might have felt our emotions, seen in the context of time, history and human affairs, they may well have been just games and dreams to others.
Lisa Ong 