An elderly community cat hadn’t been sighted for 2 days. Feeders searched and called for him to no avail.
I followed the exchanges on the chat group and picked up the mounting unease of one of the veteran feeders who is usually very composed.
Butter lamp dedicated to all animal beings on the 4th Day of the Lunar New Year. On the 5th Day, the missing cat was found and given help.
On Friday evening at the temple I dedicated a light to all animal beings. (It’s the Lunar New Year season and Street Dog Care’s 10th Anniversary after all.)
On Sat morning the lost cat was found.
He was injured. Someone heard a weak meow coming from the drain, another person carried him out and a whole family took him to the vet.
Maybe the timing of the butter lamp dedication and the cat finding was just a fortunate coincidence.
But light, which is the universal symbol for divine presence, is a source of comfort and encouragement to the fearful and the anxious, regardless of beliefs. It is also an expression of gratitude for divine companionship when the material world fails us.
And now I get it when my grandma had such a high regard for all rituals involving Fire. We thought she was nuts when she told us the Fire is listening.
So even as we read news of bush fires in Australia and of charger exploding in a home elsewhere, may we not be discouraged, but continue to develop a healthy relationship with Fire.
And may all beings feeling lost or in distress turn to the Light and be comforted and healed. 🙏
I wore an old blouse for the second day of the lunar new year. It is 12 year old to be precise.
This clothing item has survived many rounds of decluttering episodes because it sparks more than joy. It sparks mystery.
Power Dressing: When I put this on, I’m carrying highly stylised symbols of transformation & abundance created by ethnic artists of long ago.
The ethnic Miao (Hmong) motifs of centipedes, butterflies, birds and fishes on the fabric appeal to the animal soul in me.
I bought this book from PageOne Bookshop at Vivo City. The level of Chinese in this book is too high for me but the pictures make me very happy. Only much later I learnt that these patterns are not randomly assembled. They are auspicious symbols of transformation and abundance. They are also graphic records of the natural world as seen through the eyes of fabric makers who were word illiterate but no less spiritual or creative.The humble handmade buttons had helped mothers and grandmothers put food on the table and sent kids to school. I hope a revival of this skill will take place.
As I was pushing the red handmade knot into the loop to secure my blouse, flashes of my youth helping my grandma button her blouse came to me. I was so impatient with her then.
What I wouldn’t give now for a chance to help her put on her blouse without being unkind.
The fabric bag with me was bought at a Chiangmai market in 2014 when El arranged for us to visit the Elephant Nature Park. Each time I use this cloth bag I felt connected to Chiangmai and her elephants again.
Yesterday over coffee at the Botanics Gardens I asked Ron if he recalled giving me this blouse. He couldn’t, for over the years he & El had bought me far too many things to remember.
I told Ron that he was attending a teachers exchange programme in north-east China that year. It was winter and he had dumplings and a bottle of beer for $1.50 at a little cafe. Oh! He remembered. It was 12 years ago.
I think ever since I started observing the new moon and full moon, I’ve also develop the stillness to see newness in old things.
As unpredictable as life is, I’ve been granted a 12 year grace to see beyond the materiality of a blouse.
And in this age of easy discarding & speedy consumerism, relationships have also become highly disposable.
So to be able to wear this old blouse in the presence of its giver, and to celebrate our relationship under an old tree on the Lunar New Year, gives me a sense of newness that is uniquely mulled by the passage of Time.
Ron got me this indigo blouse 12 years ago when he was on an exchange programme in North-eastern China.
Towards late afternoon of the lunar new year celebration, I thought of the chiku tree that my father planted years ago.
So I walked to the back of the temple to say hello.
And there she was, fruitful as ever, laden with Chiku fruits of all sizes.
Red paper craft hanging from her branches like ribbons on a maiden’s hair gave the old tree a touch of festive air.
I snapped a picture of her and caught the light radiating amongst her leaves.
So I stood under her for a while and listened. Memories of my late father pruning the chiku branches and my late uncle harvesting the fruits with his beloved black cat, Shou Shou, climbing alongside him came to me.
Year after year, the Chiku Tree welcomes Spring, and she’s now also the link to my ancestors & beloved animals.
I found a fruit on the ground and took it home with me.
An elderly feeder of street cats invited me into her one bedroom rental flat once.
While I was there, her window panes that faced the common corridors were discreetly angled to allow for air ventilation, but deter neighbours from peering into her living room, where her 5 cats roamed free.
The cat feeder works as an office cleaning lady by day. On her way to work she checks on her street cats. In the evening, equipped with a shopping trolley laden with cat food and medicines, she goes out to feed homeless cats, and medicate the ones that are injured or sick, while nursing her own arthritic knees.
Her flat is sparsely furnished to allow for easy cleaning. In her living room are 2 chairs and 1 small coffee table. In her kitchen is a one burner stove by the sink. There’s a washing machine by the balcony. Against the wall old newspapers are neatly bundled with raffia string and stacked up. The newspapers are shredded to be used as cat litter for her cats.
Each day before she leaves her flat, she makes sure to keep a trickle of water running from the tap by the kitchen sink. This is so that in the event that she meets with an accident on one of her feeding rounds or at work, and had to be hospitalised, her house cats would at least have access to drinking water till help comes.
It was a privilege sitting on her linoleum lined floor and taking in all the simple details of her spartan abode. Every item in her house was streamlined to facilitate cleaning ease & maximise comfort for herself and her cats.
Such single-mindedness of intention has given this elderly woman’s one room rental flat an almost shrine-like ambience. Being in her space put me in an almost meditative state.
In a couple of days, the Chinese Lunar New Year of the Boar will be upon us.
Many families are cleaning their homes to get rid of the old in order to usher in Spring, which is the Chinese Lunar New Year. “Spring Clean” or “Spring Cleaning” describes the various activities of cleaning & replacing to welcome Spring.
As I listen to intense discussions on making new curtains, or replacing a piece of furniture, the humble flat of this elderly cat feeder in Lengkok Bahru comes to mind.
In her purpose built life and home, she has nothing much to throw away, and nothing much to replace, because her house is spring cleaned every day.
Ron stops for a curious dog on our way to Street Dog Care, Nepal. 3 Dec 2018
Many years ago, my grandmother needed to see a doctor. The doctor’s clinic was on the 2nd level of an old shop house. Climbing a steep flight of narrow stairs to seek relief was unavoidable.
Till this day it hurts to recall her efforts to go up and to come down, holding onto the wall for dear life as the stair way had no railing and was too narrow to accommodate my dad or me to be next to her to give some assurance.
This caregiver aligns her pace to the old lady’s. Source: straitstimes.com
These days my own mobility challenges have given me some understanding of the do’s and don’t’s when assisting people, including children, who need support when walking.
At lift lobby and on the road, I’ve seen old folks with walking cane having their free arm held by their caregivers and being dragged along as they try to keep pace with the caregivers’ walking speed which is about one or even only 1/2 a step ahead.
In the past I kept these observations & opinions to myself. Either the situation was too far away from where I was to intervene or I wanted to “mind my own business.”
But yesterday it happened again.
An old lady in her 80s was using a 4 point walking cane while a family member took her to the taxi stand at the JEM shopping mall.
Bent and small, the old one in matching floral blouse and pants struggled to lift her walking cane with one hand, while her other hand was being held by her caregiver.
The caregiver, a cheerful woman in her mid-40s obviously loved the grandmother, but was not conscious of how her pace might be adversely affecting the person she was helping.
The old lady was nearly keeling over as she was being dragged along, presumably to beat the taxi queue.
When they passed me I blurted out to the caregiver: “It’s very painful and tiring for her to be pulled along like this. You have to follow her pace, not the other way round.”
We just have to imagine what’s like having our arm pulled while we try to keep our balance and put up with the discomfort in the armpit area due to overextension of the arm.
People receiving help either cannot or dare not articulate their pain lest they be perceived as being demanding or ungrateful.
A moment of recognition came on. She must have realised that if her grandmother could follow her pace, she wouldn’t need a walking aid or be held.
She thanked me & started to slow down.
“And whoever is waiting for you. Let them wait. They will understand,” I found myself saying this without knowing why.
But now I know. Each of us who are quick to glorify speed and dismiss slowness, will one day have to face the inevitable slowing down and to wait for others to show grace to us.
“Walk WITH Me.” – Swedish police keeping pace with old lady crossing the road.
So the old person who needs help to move, the fearful child who needs more thinking time, and the sick animal that can only take small bites are not burdens to be tolerated. They are providing precious opportunities to practise slowing down, so that those blessed enough to help, may truly offer Love and experience Love in return.
Bending low to give the dog his kibbles, the Tibetan Grandma showed me love is not always convenient and kind.
Ho Ming Fong wrote “Sing to the Dawn.” My dad taught me to sing to the moon when I was 5.
Yesterday was full moon. My tutee Niq is now in Primary 2. His spelling list has gotten longer. Twenty words this time.
I shared with him how singing to the moon when I was a kid taught me not to be afraid of being alone or lost, because wherever I am, there’s always the moon above looking to guide me.
He listened intently. I could see him grappling with the concept that just because we don’t see something, it doesn’t mean it ceases to exist.
We were at Marina Bay waiting for Moonrise. Meanwhile as he explored the grounds, he learnt about rising and falling tides and how they bring in shells & garbage that get stuck on the coastal vegetation when the tide retreats.
He picked up a broken shell to keep because he wanted to know “what the inside looks like.” But for pieces to give away, he looked for intact ones.
Asking “Why are the shells broken?” led him to learn about impact caused by Man & Nature, and the need to tread lightly on earth so as not to harm others.
Niq picked up this conch shell under the full moon light & gave it to me. The jasper was given to me by a young lady a few years back. She’ll be getting married this year.
He also found an elastic hair band to dispose of properly so that it wouldn’t end up in the stomach of seabirds & marine creatures.
“Why don’t you spell to the Moon?” I prompted, “that way she also knows the words for your spelling test. And when you’re stuck you can think of the Moon and she’ll give the words back to you.”
I’ve found focussing on an aspect of nature, be it the moon or a tree or even a small patch of an open sky can help young people stay calm when they meet problems. In this way a space opens up for solutions to emerge.
“But I also want to sing to the Moon,” he responded.
We waited as the sun set and the wind rose. The lights around the barrage came on. Then a feathery patch in the sky appeared. It shifted in brightness according to the clouds covering it.
As the Speller sat in the dark, humming a made-up tune the Moon gradually revealed her luminous presence in that magical moment.
Over dinner under the Moon, Niq said to me in mocked modesty as he munched on a satay,” Don’t ask me to spell ‘nutritious’ cos I don’t know.”
May the full moon bless all sentient beings who have the gift of words and speech to help those who don’t.
And may her light imbue our words with the power to raise the spirit in joy for ourselves and for all sentient beings.
Meeting Andy on wheels for the first time on full moon day in Dec 2016.
I was advised from a very young age not to run lest it called attention to my deformed leg. Yet whenever someone paid me a compliment whether it was for being clever, or pretty, some of the female folks in my family would rush in to respond with a sigh, “What’s the point? She has a bad leg.” I resented their speaking on my behalf. But most of all I resented them for robbing me of the joy of receiving a praise, however transient, and for using my leg to negate all the other possible positives that I could be experiencing.
In trying to prepare me for the “real” world, they could have thought that by highlighting my handicap earlier on in life each time I got complimented, they were training me to be realistic so that I wouldn’t be easily hurt by remarks pertaining to my leg later on when I grew up.
But protective measures that are motivated by guilt and fear have a way of increasing the burden of the very person or animal we claim to be helping.
Black Lion (“Or Sai” in hokkien dialect) is the emblem for Centre for Communicable Diseases at Moulmein Rd. I spent 3 months in it when I was a baby after contracting poliomyelitis which led to permanent paralysis of my left leg.
Long after my folks had stopped reminding me of my leg, I carried their collective responses in my head like a favourite chorus from a childhood song.
“What’s the point?” was there when a handsome boy asked me to dance at Chatsworth Drive. “What’s the point?” was there when Mr Lee said my manuscript writing was nice. “What’s the point?” would show up to sneer and jeer each time something good happened to me.
It took me a long time to exorcise “What’s the point?” from my system.
By then my leg had taught me to recognise students and people who had been similarly hurt by the good intentions of the adults in their life.
The girl who smiles while pursing her lips, the boy who dares not sing in a group setting, the lady who refuses to wear certain garments etc. They all carry voices in their head tactlessly commenting on their dental structure during childhood photo shoots, their singing ability during primary school choir lessons and their body shape during secondary school P.E lessons.
So when I see handicapped people or disabled animals, I try to rein in my own fears and see them for who they are – not quitting even when it hurts, and not letting their defects or lack of symmetry prevent them from trying.
Andy crawled his way to me to get a cuddle.
In my visit to Street Dog Care last December, one disabled dog called Andy fought his way with other clean limbed dogs to get a cuddle from me. Andy’s legs were damaged by motor vehicle when he was living on the streets.
I thought that being paraplegic, he would retreat to a corner & wait for his turn. But not so with Andy!
On & on, Andy circled us in his pair of shrivelled legs like a relentless little shark, trying to find a gap to come closer while another dog called Old Man was leaning smugly on me & barking at him. Old Man was equally determined not to let Andy into our circle of embrace.
It was very comical watching wormlike Andy on the ground challenging Old Man safely seated above on the bench with me. El commented that even without functioning legs Andy is still a formidable threat. Imagine if he could run!
Old Man pretending to look chastised. He wouldn’t let Andy or anyone come close to me. But this Old Man is so endearing and when he still refused to let Andy join us, SDC staff, Junu, just scooped him up & put him in a cage temporarily.
Finally vet tech, Junu, had to intervene. She peeled Old Man away from me to allow Andy to come closer, so that he could show me how much he had grown in strength & confidence since we met in 2016.
Andy the shape shifting canine. He can morph into a shark or a worm depending on the situation.
Up close, I saw that Andy’s “useless” legs & bruises from contact with roughness did not harden his facial features one bit. His hazel brown gaze were soft and liquid, while his signature caramel coloured nose stood out against the creamy beige of his smooth fur. I hugged him for being so brave, so beautiful & so buttery!
It is fairly safe to say that every one struggles with some imperfections. And we are defective in manners of form & severity in one way or another. But becoming complete is not about hiding or killing the parts that we are less proud of. Becoming whole is about accepting all parts, so that even the so called unfavourable bits can be harnessed to work in our favour.
My “bad” leg has given me some restrictions but it has also trained me to be observant and shown me the goodness of people, even complete strangers.
Andy’s “bad” legs have inspired a community beset with all kinds of unthinkable challenges to secure a set of wheels for him to improve his mobility, instead of euthanizing him.
So when the bad happens in our life, it could be a portal to the good, if we don’t get stuck on judgement, guilt & blame.
At the Boudha Stupa last year, I gave thanks for my family for trying their best to raise me. But it was when I sought forgiveness for the trauma & hardship my handicap had caused them, that I realised, “What’s the point?” is finally & completely exorcised.
The symmetry of consecrated structures such as the Boudha Stupa encourages the seer to achieve his/ her own inner balance & alignment.
“I will sign the separation paper regardless of what you say. I’m sick & tired of your threats!” This was a parting shot from a woman to a man at the shopping mall I was visiting at the start of the new year.
Without unnecessary speculations on the whys and wherefores that led to this altercation, the woman’s words got me thinking how threats seem to define our way of life in Singapore.
“Do this, or else…”
“Study hard, if not…”
“Don’t contradict your RO, otherwise…”
The above could be well meaning advice that also function as threats when absolute compliance from the respondent does not follow soon enough.
Purple Orchid on Raw Sodalite Stone. The stone can either hold up the flower or crush it.
And I wonder how many of us operate subconsciously under such threats in different doses & permutations 24/7 even as we smugly observe that we are very safe because our country is free from natural & seasonal disasters. But do we feel safe?
While an earthquake or a tsunami maybe unpredictable & truly frightening, their damages are highly visible, whereas a consequence such as losing a promotion because you speak up for someone or because somebody sees you leaving the office before the boss does is harder to predict and manage. And so the anxiety lingers on insidiously in our mind like mold growing quietly in the aircon units of our homes & offices.
Someone once told me that she used to run errands and do chores for her boss that had very little to do with her professional qualification because her job ranking depended on it. I was puzzled and wondered how she drew that conclusion.
Many years ago the pop icon Madonna was asked why she was able to constantly evolve. She said one of the reasons for her creativity was that she only employs people who dare to challenge her ideas even at the expense of losing their job because “if someone is always fearful of losing his job, he cannot be doing a very good job in the first place.”
As I look back at my own life, I start to assess how much of it is lived in love and how much is lived out of fear. A life lived in fear cannot qualify as a good life, even if all material needs are met.
And a fear based approach to life might produce quick & impressive results, but for the results to spawn a greater good, there has to be love. Followers of Machiavelli may disagree with me, but empires & dynasties come & go, whereas Love stays.
Perhaps some of us tolerate and even promote unhealthy work and personal relationships because we fear loneliness, we fear poverty and we fear becoming nobodies. So we sacrifice our health and our conscience willingly on the altar of Fear, in return for shaky alliances, limited riches and dubious titles.
I too had been caught in this trance of fear in my teaching days. I remember the anxious whispers & looks of concern that invaded the staff room when teaching contract renewals were due.
Once as I was wondering if I had made any mistakes that might jeopardise my contract, a very clear voice in my head went like this:
“Stop barking up the wrong tree. The real contract awarder is not the school. It’s God. Even if they offer you a hundred year term, do you know who decides if you have enough years in your life to use it?”
That question broke the spell of fear for me.
St Francis of Assisi facing Gubbio, the Wolf and making peace with him. The Wolf also represents all the hidden & untamed elements we face in life.
After that episode I became less anxious and more truthful about my strengths and limitations. Having spent a big part of my life overcompensating for my limp and apologising for not being quick enough, I’m just slowly coming to terms with who I am not.
And last night while clearing my bookshelves, John O’Donohue’s “Anam Cara,” appeared. Anam Cara means Soul Friend in Gaelic. This is my second Gaelic reminder. The first came to me at Boudha Stupa last December.
The “Anam Cara” author reminded me:
“When you think about it, you should not let yourself be pressurised by life. You should never give away your power to a system or to other people. You should hold the poise, balance, and power of your soul within yourself. If no one can keep death away from you, then no one has ultimate power. All power is pretension. No one avoids death. Therefore, the world should never persuade you of its power over you, since it has no power whatever to keep death away from you. ”
Friar Micheal de Cruz gave me his copy of “Anam Cara,” when I was a teacher in St Joseph’s Institution.
This reminder bears a special potency to me because I’m into my 50s and the Irish author who wrote this died unexpectedly in his sleep 3 days after his 52nd birthday.
And finally I wish for the woman who prompted this piece of writing all the wisdom and compassion that she needs, as she stands on the brink of an awakening to refuse to live in fear, even as she watches her marriage crumble. ♥️🙏
My late Kitty Hawk stands neatly in the centre of the mandala to remind us to stay centred, come what may.
Nearly twenty years ago while stacking up old newspapers in the kitchen I came across a picture of a dead dog lying on its side. The caption read that 50 people chased it down the streets with sticks and rods, and beat the black dog, suspected of having rabies, to death.
I felt the fear of being chased & the pain of being beaten when I looked at the matted & wet fur of the dead canine. A combination of factors such as self preservation instincts, unresolved personal problems and a mob mentality could have been the trigger for 50 humans to deal so cruelly with 1 defenseless and sick dog.
That episode in Thailand was the start of my interest in keeping press cuttings on animal news. The constant collection also evolved into a habit of putting bad news next to good ones to provide some form of mental & emotional balance for myself. It also creates some degree of objectivity when looking at the community where the news emerge.
My first contact with Kali in Dec 2011.
In 2011 in Nepal, I befriended a black dog called Kali. She lives on the pavement along Hotel Harati in Thamel and is being cared for by Jamuna, the tea seller. I saw Kali again in 2013, 2014 and 2016 when I visited Nepal. She has survived the 2015 earthquake so I hope she’s still going strong.
With Kali in 2014 outside Jamuna’s tea stall.In 2016, when we called her name, she looked up and wagged her tail at us.
Humans have all kinds of misgivings against the colour black, often forgetting that black is the most generous of all colours. Black allows other colours to come forth and shine while remaining in the background. Black comes to our aid when we need to hide a mistake so that we can start afresh.
Black puppy Blaze recovering at Street Dog Care. (3 Dec 2018)Surrounded by Blessed Blacks. (SDC 3 Dec 2018)
Recently Ron kept a copy of the Bangkok Post dated 16 November 2018 for me. It featured a picture of Thai rescued dogs greeting visitors in a state-run dog shelter in Uthai Thani. This wouldn’t be possible 20 years ago. May all dogs in this centre be well treated.
Former stray dogs greeting visitors at a state-run dog shelter in Thailand.
I think of “my first” black dog that was beaten to death. Had he or she been born at a later time, the end might not be so tragic.
So in the spirit of the many Blessed Blacks that I have met, and the improvements in street dog welfare I’ve seen, I would like to name my Thai black canine from 20 years ago, Tara.
Tara is the name of the Goddess of Compassion. The stately guard dog of Street Dog Care that we met recently was also named after her.
And may the bestowing of auspicious names on all sentient beings that have suffered, release them from fear and pain, and fill them with peace & forgiveness. 🙏
Ron having a moment with Tara, who took her name from the Goddess of Compassion. Blaze the puppy who watches from the floor also gets lots of treats from Ron.
I shared with him how singing to the moon when I was a kid taught me not to be afraid of being alone or lost, because wherever I am, there’s always the moon above looking to guide me.
We were at Marina Bay waiting for Moonrise. Meanwhile as he explored the grounds, he learnt about rising and falling tides and how they bring in shells & garbage that get stuck on the coastal vegetation when the tide retreats.
As the Speller sat in the dark, humming a made-up tune the Moon gradually revealed her luminous presence in that magical moment.
Lisa Ong 