Spell to the Moon

(First Full Moon Mandala Dedication)

20 Jan 2019

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.

Bad Legs, Good Faith

18 January 2019

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.

Breaking the Spell of Fear

11 Jan 2019

“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.

Blessed Blacks

9 Jan 2019

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.

Mandala for First New Moon

Mandala for First New Moon

6 Jan 2019

The marigold petals and oyster shell share the same wavy edges, although one is very soft and the other is very hard.

As it is with our encounters in life, may all our experiences good or bad, guide us to our highest potentials.

So after a long winter and a cold rainy season, may the sun’s fire energise this new moon with new light and new life.

And may the new moon reflect new hopes grounded in old wisdom in the coming year for our benefit and the benefit of all sentient beings.

A Thangka Trip

5 Jan 2019

This morning I was reading “Dolpo, the world behind the Himalayas,” by Karna Sakya, when I received a call from Ron. The thangka which he had bought in Nepal and sent for framing in Singapore was ready for collection.

Ron had found his thangka among the shops in Patan when we were there last December.

That day on the terrace, I could feel and see the joy he radiated as he held up his choice.

So when he asked me this morning if I would like to have lunch before dropping by the frame maker’s, I jumped in.

For lunch we came upon this little eatery called Prince Coffee House in Beach Road. It wasn’t our first choice for a lunch location but the Blanco Court Prawn Noodle Shop (my favourite) next door was full.

We decided to give Prince a chance. I’ve always wondered about their homemade yam cake anyway. Besides, the elderly proprietor was ever so hospitable, standing at the door and smiling at anyone that showed the slightest interest in his menu.

The lunch experience turned out to be worth more than the food we paid for.

The 80-year-old F&B sage regaled us with tales of his youth in the industry and the Taiwanese & Hong Kong movie stars that had eaten at his coffee house. In fact the pyrex plates that we were dining on were 45 years old! He bought each set at $10, his eyes glowing with affection as he said so.

He also charmed us with his childlike joy when talking about his yam cakes, chicken pies and apple pies. Each day at 3pm he would go to the kitchen and assist his bakers to make them.

We felt so honoured when he brought us each a glass of water so that we could “eat slowly” because it was a hot day. He also gave all his patrons free dessert of fruits or grass jelly.

When we finished our meal, the octogenarian personally cleared our table and amazed us by arranging the crockery on each of his arm before walking nimbly back to the kitchen! It was Cirque de Soleil to me!

The thangka is a Nepalese art form that depicts Tibetan buddhist iconography. It has many spiritual and practical functions. For me, the variety and depth of colours in thangkas and the emphasis on harmony & proportion inspire me to seek inner & outer balance.

Looking at the owner of Prince Coffee House, his outer balance must have come from an inner peace cultivated from 80 years’ worth of managing the ups and downs in his life.

And it is so apt that today on the eve of the new moon we would collect a thangka that features a long ago Prince who spent his life showing us a way to peace.

So in whichever era we’re born, and regardless of social status, may we cultivate peace within so that we may radiate it to all sentient beings, like the Prince Siddharta depicted in this thangka painting and like the old proprietor of the Prince Coffee House we met today.

“You Are So Beautiful!”

3 Jan 2018

Once my yoga teacher invited me to join one of her free yoga sessions she had customised for patients of Parkinson’s Disease and their caregivers.

I was a bit tense among this community of sufferers as I have spent most of my life trying to avoid my own pain and masking it when I can’t.

After my yoga teacher had introduced me to the group, I thanked them for having me. One of them replied slowly but gaily, “You are so beautiful!” The others expressed varying degrees of agreement, according to the limits of their facial & bodily pliancy. I was really stunned by their generosity.

Last year, on mornings to board my taxi for work, I would sometimes pass by an elderly man on wheelchair. He was accompanied by his domestic helper.

His eyes were usually closed as his helper chattered on brightly. One morning he opened his eyes when he heard me saying hello to her. I greeted him too and he replied in a frail voice but with a smile, “You are beautiful.” I could hear the presence of phlegm in his voice, indicating that it must have taken a lot out of him to give me that compliment.

Sometime in late November last year I learnt that the grandpa had choked on a piece of bread and passed on.

These days I value the ability to speak, more. And I guard the power to decide on the content even more.

Who knows? There may come a day when I have only enough breath to utter one sentence. And I hope I won’t waste it on some nonsense, but may my utterances be more akin to those made by the Parkinson’s patient and the grandpa.

The First Gift of 2019

1 Jan 2019

On New Year’s Eve, I kept seeing a giant prayer wheel in my mind. I knew that I had to make that temple trip even if I had to go on my own. And when I spoke of it to a close friend, he said he would take me there.

Caption: Lighting butter lamps in Boudha Stupa, Nepal. (Dec 2018)

So we started the first day of 2019 by visiting the Tibetan temple at Beatty Lane. We offered thanksgiving prayers and dedicated butter lamps to loved ones and to all sentient beings.

While I was at it, a much loved community cat that had disappeared in April 2018 came to mind. Despite all attempts to locate her, she was never found. I felt her feeder’s grief when she spoke of her during our Christmas meet up recently.

Caption: Bailey aka Sasha

So I thought of making a donation in the cat’s name to alleviate the feeder’s pain and most of all to grant peace to the cat in case something tragic had happened to her.

As I was preparing to write the cat’s name on the donation form at the administrative counter, a question arose. “Will Bailey aka Sasha be able to receive the merits of the donation? She is after all, an animal.”

This doubt gnawed at me as I lingered over the line where the cat’s name was supposed to be written. Then I heard “Sasha!” being said by someone from behind me. It was a mother calling out for her little girl.

Hearing the cat’s name so clearly articulated on this bright new year morning cleared my doubt. I proceeded with the paper work confidently.

The computer system responsible for processing donation details had been lagging for a while. But it sprang to life after the temple volunteer had keyed in my information. I got my e-receipt instantly.

In the late afternoon, a friend dropped by to catch up. He had brought me a gift which he claimed he had casually found online. He hoped I would like it.

When I opened the box, it was an angel holding a cat! ♥️

Caption: Welcoming Bailey’s Angel with butter lamp and marigold on the first day of 2019.

I love this first gift of 2019. I called it Bailey’s Angel. It is beautifully made, and it feels like an acknowledgement from the Great Beyond, that whatever I did at the temple this morning has been received.

Rooting

30 December 2018

The year end brings its rounds of holidays, merriments and profound questions such as “How has the year been?”

On Christmas Evening, I had the chance to hang out at the old neighbourhood of Boon Lay Shopping Centre with a Malay friend. We were there for a session of traditional chinese massage.

After the deep tissue massage, we had our comfort food, the famed Boon Lay Power Nasi Lemak. (I know, so healthy right?)

In the hawker centre that was linked to the wet market, we were surrounded by old folks, dating bikers, families and a steady stream of late night workers still in their work gears – neon tops, orange or blue overalls, Kings boots etc. You know, the people who maintain our trains, repair our highways, and keep our country running while we sleep. At one point it also felt like we were supping with The Village People!

With our bones all aligned and bellies full of fragrant coconut rice, we went on a car ride in my friend’s Volkswagen.

He pointed out the landmarks of our youth – places of worship, banks, and the community centre where my brother’s wedding dinner was held.

New flats on the old location where my friend sold epok epok in his youth to supplement his mother’s income.

We saw the location of the flats where my friend peddled his mom’s homemade curry puffs in his primary school uniform, the factories where he worked as a cleaner during his secondary school holidays, the church where he sat in to seek solace from words that were thrown around like knives during family quarrels, and the bus stop where he waited to accompany his sister home after her night shift work.

These old pine trees have been here since our teenage years.

The beautiful pine trees that lined the roads leading to the Chinese and Japanese gardens (now closed for renovation) and the JTC flats where I tutored a boy in my late teens, and the garden where I rescued and rehomed a dog named Margo when I was a teacher were all still around.

We gave thanks for this backwater of a neighbourhood. It has no class, no famous schools, and some of its people still come out in their pajamas.

But this place has given my friend and I all we needed in our formative years to become the adults that we are today.

And it is very grounding to look back at 2018 and the years before, to realise that even the parts of our life that have been stressful or difficult can impact us in so many positive ways.

Ode to Tables

29 Dec 2018

Among all the pieces of furniture in a traditional Chinese home, great emphasis is placed on the altar table and the dining table. Before they are purchased, measurements and placements have to be carefully considered and discussed.

The altar table is where the family gods and ancestor spirits gather. It basically marks the soul of the house.

The dining table is for meal gatherings and family discussions. If you’re of my vintage, it’s also the place to settle our homework, complete the art project and grow bean sprouts for the science teacher.

2 years ago in 2016 at Street Dog Care in Nepal, a battered and scratched plastic table was witness to our very special gathering among friends of different nations, all united by canine concerns.

Worn out from exposure to the monsoon rains, year end cold and even the 2015 earthquake, the table was retired when Street Dog Care needed to relocate.

I had fond memories of this cracked table but trusted that its spirit of harmony will follow the SDC staff & volunteers to their new home.

On 3 Dec 2018, we visited Street Dog Care in its new location and of course right at the heart of the centre a round plastic table welcomed us, complete with its own live dog display, Tara, the guard dog on it.

After we had placed our animal supplies on it, Tara presided majestically over the goods.

No matter how we coaxed her with words & treats, she refused to come down from the table, but stood guard regally, as if protecting the peace & abundance that the table held.

She finally made way for us briefly to gather around it for tea.

I looked at the mass produced table where supporters and well wishers of Nepal’s street dogs continued to congregate, & felt humbled.

It is common looking and made of plastic, yet its capacity to draw local & international support may be as strong as those that are made of oak & mahogany in the offices of power brokers.

So as we bid goodbye to 2018, and declutter to make room for 2019, we can still ask for the spirit of benevolence in the discarded items to stay, the way the collective goodwill bestowed upon the old mangled table continues to live in the new table at Street Dog Care. 😊