It's Official-
I can cook!!! And fairly well too!
(btw, that's freshly butchered rabbit on the stove! hehehe)

Move over Jamie Oliver!

It's almost a month and i'm glad i've yet to repeat the many menus and self-fashioned receipes i've designed over the past weeks. Cooking is relaxing and takes my mind away from many things. It helps also that my flatmate is also an avid chef and we save heaps of money eating at home. Going to restaurants seems like a blatant wastage of cash now that i can quite decode and deconstruct what goes into each dish. I use a corner of the living room to lay out the produce since the fridge is too small. Arty on the sidelines. They keep well and look good, thanks to the atmospheric cold. Here are some decent & delicious dishes i've created and proud to call my own-

Grilled Tom Yam Fish, Braised Dutch Carrots with orange and herbs, Stir-fried brussel-sprouts with garlic, Boiled squid with oriental dip, Assam Pedas Squid, Steamed mussels with bay leaves and white wine, Beef and mushroom Pasta with light Shiraz, Grilled Artichokes with salt and pepper, Fennel drizzled and cooked in Olive oil, Blue Granadier with Pine nuts and coated with cheese and lemon rind, Grilled wings with vietnamese sour sauce, Boiled greens topped with quick-fry garlic and onions, Greek Salad, Unbeatable Teochew / Taiwanese porridge with feel-good broth and sweet potato accompanied by selected preseves and anchovies, Honey Wings, Winter-warmth Bak Kut Teh, Noon-rushed Pita with lamb and parsley, Ever-humble toasted Bread with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, Grilled marlin, Oriental Fish Stock with fresh parsley, Stewed rabbit in maltese casserole


My thanks to 04A02 for the class menus (classy yet sentimental prints! I know it was designed and conceived with alot of love), also to Gordon and Seok for that amazing, pompous but bright and colourful practical big book of menus by J Oliver, and to my mom & granny whom i battled over the rights to the kitchen only to inherit, and so subconsciously, their techniques, intuition and range of cooking styles. My own voice in these experiments is to use plenty of herbs (bay leaves, thyme, rosemary, basil and many more) and allow the natural flavour / juices of the dish to seep through or be preserved. Chinese cooking is famous for destroying all the nutrients stored in everything from tubers to meat. Looking at my background and mindset, it won't be too long before i adopt a fusion (yeah, it's an exhausted concept) to blend the meals.

Luncheons-tea-tunch-dinners-suppers all rolled into one. we save some for dinner and pack for lunch on the morrow. saving the hard-earned cash and devoting it to necessary buys like the exorbitant zapping fees and countless unmentionables that make life in the lion city cheeeaaper than one could ever imagine. i miss the wok...i miss sea-hum, hokkien mee, orh luak...$2.20 pjc canteen food...and 5ocents for a huge handful bunch of red chillis...

boredom and remembrance...

i marvel about the things i do when i am bored. managed my first purchase of x-men figurine over e-bay today. beast travelled more than 10000km to melbourne all the way from States.

angel was waiting for a companion and the 2 mutants brought some visual and tactile stimulus to help break my study period and its monotony with some minutes of childhood boy-wonder and aimless dangling fun. the readings were boring. nus deposited a critical eye in me afterall and i ploughed through them quite effortlessly...here are the copies...in the meantime, hanging up the final X-Men emblem reminded me of my students back in Pioneer, my k-men and all their storehouse of learning-teasing-obscene powers...lord stroker aka poh poh, lady lookez aka shuting, hair-raiser aka gabriel, audioshrieks aka germaine, tenniso aka f.rui and the like. i hope you get to read this.

one eye stares at the mounted figurines while the other scans the shelves and finds the class i miss. i remember all your names and personalities. k-men-s11 -GP comics-teaser-character-insults-afffirmation deluxe. boredom triggers memory and the dismal rainy afternoon dispels, once more.

O Lord, help me to believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is...you can heal a broken heart, but i must first be willing to let you have all the pieces...

macrina wieherkeher



prayer

O God of great strength and great weakness,
i am weak, weak, weak. Yet you do not despise my weakness. You love small and gentle. Just so you love my heart. Hold me, strong God. Let me lean on you and into you. Embrace my weakness, not to transform it, but to love it. amen.

“I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel,
who even at night directs my heart.” Psalm 16:7

Why, O Lord, is it so hard for me to keep my heart directed toward you? Why do the many little things I want to do, and the many people I know, keep crowding my mind, even during the hours that I am totally free to be with you and you alone? Why does my mind wander off in so many different directions and why does my heart desire the things that lead me astray? Are you not enough for me? Do I keep doubting or demanding your love and care, your mercy and grace? Do I keep wandering, in the center of my being, whether you will give me all I need if I just keep my eyes on you?

Lord, I make more demands on you than what you do to me. I have even learnt to impose my own timelines on you. How naked is my ambition and how slow am I to realize that!

Please accept my distractions, my fatigue, my irritations and faithless wanderings. You know me more deeply and fully than I know myself. You accept and love me with a greater love than I can ever hope to love myself. You even offer me more than I can desire. Look at me, see me in all my misery, neediness and inner confusion and let me sense your presence in the midst of turmoil. All I can do is to show myself to you. Yet, I am afraid to do so. I am afraid that you will reject me. But I know – with the knowledge of faith – that you desire to give me your love. The only thing you ask of me is not to hide from you, not to run away in despair, not to act as if you were a relentless judge.

Take my tired body, my confused mind and my restless soul into your arms and give me rest, simple quiet rest. Do I ask too much too soon? I should not worry about that. You will let me know.

Amen.

Adapted: Henri Nouwen’s A Cry for Mercy

I was running on the uni tracks today when i heard my 'title' being called from afar. It was a former pioneer whom i did not teach but recognised me nonetheless. Pshaw! The first thing that came to mind was a mild sense of surprise followed by weary acceptance. Looks like I still do not have the privacy i longed for, in spite travelling more than 4ooo miles away from home. I met the same student again later at night in town, when i went about getting cable and soil (what a combi!) for dvd connections at home as well as for potting. Deja vu indeed. Another tiring sigh. Still, I managed to retrieve a succulent bud beside Safeway and look forward to rehabilitating it with my green fingers, hopefully. Adrian and i scouted apartment trash like vagrants and found the pot i wanted. I went back to the city and collected the cold soil with my very bare hands, digging each pot as if they were shallow troughs of hidden gold. Be it jogging, digging or mere shopping or 'suppering', each activity was conducted under 12 degree temperatures. Coming home to a view of city lights from a 9th floor window. Sometimes drinking port aloft.

The cold adds a dash of thrill to everything. Not reckless but fun nonetheless. Like the pictures from orientation. 2 students dressed up in sumo suits trying to out-stump one another. Rubber-foam girls without the bikinis. Awesome like overweight aliens from Tatooine. The absence of rationality makes these actions and decisions memorable in a special way. Allowing litter to sprout existence from nowhere. Rubber suits into sports, only right conditions are needed. Choice and discovery. Exploring the backyard plus cautious calculations.

That's me trying to study in the Loft above graduate house. Well-equipped with microwaves, wash basins and wireless net. Just had my pre-packed lunch- my hibernating phase before the mental demon springs out to leap past city blocks, running tracks, upturned soil and flower. Surviving night chills once more...

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false and true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overheard
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

w. b. yeats

dedicated to fr. kevin o farell ocso for your fidelity to monastic life through the years. In everything you do, you have shown us the face of Christ...

Kernels of (learnt wisdom), mishaps
and misadventures ...

whiting and marlin. de-bone- disembowel fresh fish. best deals at QV market occur an hour before closing time. hangovers cures. try sunning in winter. dozen tassie oysters at $12. smuggle cheap drinks in your jackets. club for free (almost) and avoid exorbitant charges. quench thirst from taps in club toilets. sugared raspberries, jamaican chocolate and cinnamon dusted pastries. smoothie by the museum lawn. debunk yum cha. smoke free eateries. queuing at Safeway minutes before midnight. relish half-price slashes. half roasts at a dollar fifty. munching on chicken by a cold supermart. crunching granny smith apples at 10 degrees. did i just see chemical-free chicken breasts? simple and simply sesame breads. dabs of balsamic vinegar and olive oil are good for you. 2 pots of plants rescued from near drought at city baths. open a bottle-cap with a hand-dryer. promote longevity in dish. add wine to sauce. inhaling arctic air and still running in shorts. ice-cold live jellyfish. winter- quick dry clothes. grid-cities. gblt = gaybilesbiantransgender groups. ordinary persons. gumtrees in the house. webcraft. airplants & winterair. a small wicked bunch of fierce red chillis selling at two seventy! walking till sundown. sweatless. breathing cold freezing & free.

Our One Hope for the Happy Life

Faith by which we believe in God is particularly necessary in this mortal life, so full of delusion and distress and uncertainty. God is the only source of good things, especially those which make us good and make us happy. Only when we, the faithful and the good in these unhappy conditions, pass from this life to the happy life will we experience what now we cannot, namely to live as we want. We will not want to live a bad life in that bliss, nor will we want anything we lack, nor will we lack anything we want. Whatever we love will be there, and we will not desire anything that is not there. Everything that is there will be good, and the most high God will be the most high good, and will be available for the enjoyment of his lovers, and so total happiness is forever assured.



One who is happy in hope is not yet happy, but is waiting in patience for that happiness not yet possessed. As for those tortured ones without any such hope, however much they endure, they are not truly happy, but bravely unhappy.

St Augustine (354-430 AD)
The Trinity : www.ccat.sas.upenn.edu/jod/augustine.html

A reading from the Prophet Isaiah 26:7-9, 12. 16-19

At night my soul longs for you
and my spirit in me seeks for you...
Lord, you are giving us peace,
since you treat us
as our deeds deserve.


Distressed, we search for you, Lord;
...As a woman with child near her time
writhes and cries out in her pangs,
so are we, O Lord, in your presence:
we have conceived, we writhe
as if we were giving birth;
we have not given the spirit of salvation to the earth,
no more than the inhabitants of the world are born.

Your dead will come to life,
their corpses will rise;
awake, exult,
all you who lie in the dust,
for your dew is a radiant dew
and the land of ghosts will give birth.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Today's first reading at Mass reflects much about what i have been experiencing within and what has yet to be. Isaiah roots for the spiritual meaning found amid anguish, of waiting and hoping. Expectant, like a woman about to bring forth life from her very womb. What are 'the land of ghosts' we hold within us, landscapes of the heart that have yet to see and experience life in its fullness? Do I trust God enough to offer these hours or even years of waiting to him?

Statue of St Catherine of Siena (1347-1380): christian mystic and saint
on the grounds of St Patrick's Cathedral, Melbourne. Online resources on her works: www.newadvent.org/cathen/03447a.htm

Have received some blog messages from a handful of you expressing adjustment issues you needed to face back home. I know it isn't easy having to adjust to new teachers, bad grades as well as meeting never-ending demands churned out daily by the hectic system. A few still 'blame' me for abandoning the class midway. I would have not taught any batch if i had my way, believe me but i can't come to school and do nothing either. Teaching JC1 would 'hurt' the least, my superiors advised. It was the same for me too. Did my part by informing my classes a month in advance as well so that there would be adequate preparation for handing-over as well as shoring up any sense of injustice or blank compromises that might issue from this departure.

I don't mean to enlarge a minor problem into a big one but there are bigger changes or losses in life that await negotiation and acceptance as we grow older. Sudden death, breakdown of relationships, friends leaving, shift in locality, new values, rejection of past expectations, adjustments in priorities, even changes in personality and outlook. To merely prescribe 'adapt' or 'just cope' as a response seems inept.

Such is the condition, and it is real. Short of sounding detached, these changes you and i are experiencing now are issues we don't weclome readily. But inner movements need to be made, and there are days yet to be filled, hours to be lived and tasks still, to fulfil. Growing up to me, requires and involves constant vigilance, an attentiveness in how i handle change not only as a fact of life but a way of life. I don't mean we undertake a certain frivolity or instability in mood and spirit in handling change. The challenge lies in exercising a sense of daily awareness of what and how 'change' affects me, what remains unchanging and what i / we would like and are able to change. It is easier said than done. A degree of brutal honesty towards oneself is necessary so that we do not live in glass-world of our own making. It shatters in moments of crisis.


To those who are coping not too well with change, and sometimes wished for better times to come, perhaps we need to draw a line between sentimental longing for an impossible past (which stumps our growth) and a healthy appreciation of what has and had been. Find strength in what is left behind. Fate, if you believe in it, has a habit of crossing paths taken by strangers. Some are bound to meet again. The same wish goes to you, my students. Youth is sometimes the worst obstacle to self-awareness even though many claim this phase of life is a springtime of sorts in the experience of thrill, risk and experimentation. Reach deeper and experiment with the inner resources you have within you. Many dislike making that choice. But as what i've learnt, the choices that take us out of our 'safe space' can sometimes prove to be the most rewarding encounter with what we truly value and live for, in life.

Each of us maintain a 'safe space' within us. I owe this term to Helena who describes it as an inner sanctum where we hold back from life and live out a form of fabricated reality so as to escape our deepest yearnings and needs. It comes in many forms: high religiosity, false piety, loud humour, perfectionistic hard work or even intellectualism. I do not absolve myself from such descriptors too. Who knows if this blog serves as a guise for my own unconscious seeking as well?

Fracturing the structures that maintain and uphold our 'safe space' can sometimes take the work of a lifetime. It discomforts. It itches. It may even draw tears and anguish. Like learning how to pray, from scratch. It plunges you to the core of your being. But it is only by doing so that we discover a sense of authenticity that enables us to encounter ourselves as truthfully as we can, with no guise, masks nor dreamscapes to cloud our sense of self. Yeats describes this as 'moments of glad grace', sometimes equivalent to hiding one's face 'amid a crowd of stars'. I shall include the poem in a future entry.

Are you that one star that shines uniquely among a throng, who shares the same grace as you do? No pride, no arrogance- just a daily awareness of our own given attributes (even to reflect on our own response to change) which if we were made aware, would enable us to walk everywhere, amid streets and thoroughfares, not quite knowing, we shine like the sun (Thomas Merton).

"Don't waste your time
dreaming of being,
trying to be,
someone else.

Work & pray at being yourself.
Be who you are,
where you are."

St Francis de Sales

Revisiting Tarrawarra Abbey:
John 21: 4-12
-to bros samuel and joseph o.c.s.o
monks, brothers & friend

The quiet coves along the road lead in
and there you are
with habit in tow,
warm smiles that hide the long seasons of waiting
for old and
newfound friends.


I recalled how we woke in time for Mass,
alert to the vigils and poetry of everyday.
We also caught the first and last flares of many suns
before vespers and compline.
We are still divining the silence that keeps us both at peace
while the fire of faith continues to burn by the hearth
of our abbey.



We live the rare freedom found
in exile. Apart as we may seem,
and unknown to many,
your vocation story continues to sustain mine.
I learn to find a lifelong truth in solitude,
the cost of sacrifice.
In walking with you, we unfold
many valleys of pain, and further still,
sensing the secret search and hidden joy in every human heart,
known to you and sometimes to me-
and those who struggle to carry
the Cross of Christ.

The morning rains a catalyst
for our winter spirit.
An awakening to the sea and shorelines we share within,
and more time between us in the months to be...



Re: http://www.cistercian.org.au
Re:www.monks.org

Plaintive
by boey kim cheng

We are past talking
about griefs
personal and universal,
though there is blood
enough in pen
for a paradise lost
and the one regained...

we are content with
the little visions
blessing the dark nights,
and the present afternoon,
both for whom we write
no elegies.

we are grateful
for the room and the place
we find
and have yet to leave behind...

-adapted-

market tidings

Q V market was bustling with movments, scents, textures and tastes today. I like the art of beetroots- a thick combination and swirl of mud, soil, stringy stalks finished with a red bulb at its end. Botanical works.

Returning brought back many seasoned memories of place. We were immediately drawn by the plants on sale. I bought fresh gum leaves for the house. They add much needed and thoughtful sculptures to place. Obtained the airplants for my room. Cons made the choice picks. The lull of colours and petals were too tempting to be dismissed. Such succulent plants grow well in winter. They last really long even though winter seems like a dead season, dry and cold. Even plants learn to rediscover life through death.

I reaped a good harvest with the following dishes yesterday: asam pedas with mullet, green curry with beef and fresh basil, greek salad with pine nuts, honey-drizzled wings and roasted chicken sandwiches...I used to be cynical over pre-packed stocks but have since undergone a conversion of tummy and heart!

Much self-integration has been happening inside me, alot of inner-work sensed and forged from within. The quiet helps me to reassess my basic priorities in life: what i live for, what sustains my beliefs, the art of believing. The lifeworlds i earnestly seek and would even risk for.

Going within. Pope John Paul II once said that 'the longest journey is the journey inward.' Some spend their entire lives pursuing this vocation. Some never do and may spend the rest of their daylight hours working toward a peace that eludes them till today. By night, some of us slip away only to become watchful insomnaics over ourselves and not for others. Yet others learn to find the friend within. A few discover both after a lifetime of trust and faithful prayer.

There is some similarity between the noise of the marketplace and the inner turmoil that is fueled by speed and restlessness. Yet the Spirit goes where it wills, letting us know that"God pours gifts on his beloved while they slumber." (psalm 127:2)

I like that line. Solace, comfort and self-surrender all contained within a verse, a meditation on trust.

lines written in soft warm winter mornings
(w. wordworth)

Gee i dun miss home at all. These past few days move and pass like a dream. I am very well looked after, here under God's watchful care. Health is fantastic and pace of life has slowed down considerably... Little kid brother adrian has been a seriously good flat mate. No aka 'Tiwary' conflicts yet, thanks to the brutal honesty and accomodating selves we both share. But seriously considering the fact that we hardly knew each other before this, the trust and mutual respect we have for each other has been really good.

Met Constance today and am inviting her over to dinner tomorrow. I was at Queen Vic market this morning feeling natural, still and free... and had plenty of fun scouting the stalls on my own for choice basil, eggplant, pinenuts and olive oil...The stuff isn't cheap and i have developed a vigilant eye for quick discounts and fast reductions as the hour stretches to a close everywhere around that galactic market. Then it's home to stock up the groceries, all the while learning to conserve loose scraps of newpapers to keep veges crisp & fresh. Am excited to cook for Cons tomorrow. We intend to visit the Uni, finally (!)..........before heading home for dinner. My culinary experiments have been working well...and hey, I can cook incredibly well..ahem! The 2 of us have so far hosted 2 other mutual friends over for dinner (all thanks to Chris' networking) and had a fantastic blueberry pie and fine sherry over freezing (8 degrees) st kilda's beach last night. Ric, my Filipino friend has also invited us to a KTV session with the local cath group this sun. I'm taking it!

University has yet to start so i wont know how my schedule will change. But i'm living in simplicity and awareness each day that i have to be responsible over my outlook and self-care (everything from morning / evening prayer to dabbing layers of yeeky moisturiser on my face and ankles each day- thanks to face-repair-upkeep-reinforcement (note i refuse to use the word 'beauty') tips and formidable supplies (olive, butternut and ginger...i have everything to start a new organic plantation on my crinky face!) from Nikki, Betty, Ai Hua and Viv. S11's twin-br0s big bird bolster (whoever's reading this from the class pls inform them!) pampers the neck but i have yet to try cousin's vibrating pillow!!! Seetha's radio-clock lulls me to bed each night.

The household chores are easy to complete. It seems the years of harsh attendance at home and NS have finally bore fruit in terms of good and fair duty to my new home. Simply keeping the place clean, daily reading the Word, taking the clothes in when the cold drizzle rains lightly on the balcony...even thanking God for whoever invented the portable heater. I have a picture of all inside my room all arranged in the form of a Cross. It is here that i make a daily commitment to remember everyone when i pray.

Thank you people (kin, apprentice and folk alike)... for sustaining and blessing me with your prayers. Seems our Lord has ordained me to be here and breathe, a new found natural spirit i've been waiting, for all this while...

Just heard there has been a terrorist attack in India. Need to keep updated on happenings elsewhere. Freedom can also be a form of hedonism and I'm afraid this new found space will replace the my habitual need to be rooted to movements and tensions occuring miles and oceans away from my present world.

These words from Dag Hammerskjold bear careful reflection even as we go on living our everyday commonplace lives...

"A modest wish: that our doings and dealings may be of a little more significance of life than a man’s dinner jacket is to his digestion. Yet not a little of what we describe as our achievement is, in fact, no more than a garment in which, on festive occasions, we seek to hide our nakedness."

amen.

sunny wintry melbourne city

Chris and flatmate Adrian did every thing possible to make the transition easy for me. We managed to catch the World Cup Finals at the airport before leaving. Dark horse Italy emerged as champs, much to my delight and prophecy since i am no big expert on soccer itself. The flight was smooth and so were the customs. Met a melbournite onboard which amused and inspired me by her artwork but kept me wide awake as well even though i downed a flu tablet to knock my senses out! My luggage arrived pregnant as ever, with no slips or spills on the seams. Those chinese herbs and ginseng slipped through like water, and the burly aussie officers giving little problems to the perceived soil on my shoes, remnants of my last few runs along rural Singapore (check Pentecost).

These pictures speak for themselves. My nose is fine and so is my skin. Your prayers must have worked becoz my sinus will be awashed in waterfall and skin would flake like crust in past winter experiences. My window of my 9th floor living room opens out to the sunset each evening. This is a long holiday for me. Can't believe i am not even keen to explore the city. Sleeping late, experimental cooking, cleaning the kitchen sinks, floorboards and rooms (much to Adrian's delight) and doing up all that is possible to make this a fresh habitat for the soul. Uni of Melbourne is just a street away but i am in no hurry to step on it. Constance will arrive this Thurs and we'll spend friday selecting the courses and settling with the university.

Banking, internet, mobile, rental, asian condiments, how stoves work, voltage, the winer blast, prayer and silence, first Mass at St Francis', reviewing SAF SOP aka houserules with Adrian, our fav. teochew mueh and teochew language, late night grocery shopping (to take in the discounts), expensive vegetables and first stirrings of wanting to cook artichoke (whoever said they were cheap!), warm morsals of vietnamese food (thanks for the treat Deacon Thinh!), laughter, home-cooked dinner with sardines, stir-fry kailan, braised pork neck and pumpkin at 8pm, easy honest company, cheap local red wine and friendship's fidelity...i'm happy and settled already...

To my brothers in common faith...Adrian, Thinh and Chris, Thank you.


p/s: my ex tenant has since been evicted from his room because of unruly behaviour...i shall spend this day infusing this empty space. watch this column for more updates... he he he

Pentecost

Holy Spirit, thank you for those moments,
moments that come unexpectedly
when I feel your presence around me.

Sometimes you are like a light breeze,
that rustles summer leaves
refreshing coolness in the heat.

Sometimes you are like the wind
so strong i stir like grass,
bending to the force of your love and calling.

I thank you, Lord
for these precious moments,
richly given to me,
many come suddenly, as gift.

I ask you Lord
stir me like shimmering grass
bend me like a river reed
to the voice and pathway you have set for me.


-vespers on the eve of my departure, still and alone (but not lonely) on a favourite running route

landing... to a new start-----------------------

Thanks to all who went all the way to the airport to bid me well. I carry with me a chocolate of blossoms, one soft cow, a vibrating pillow (!) one big bird forever stuck in a yellow bolster, one fighter jet, many memoirs, a giant cookbook, a photo frame, a classroom of menus to sustain me in the months ahead.

Some ask why I did not cry. It was difficult to cry. Hard to make myself cry. The more they teased, the more artificial it became to feel what i felt. And I stumped my feelings and moved with the motions. Self-ridicule was the best defense when faced with such scenarios. I said I was born without tear-ducts. Gordon imitated in goodwill what I used to tease them about seeing men cry in cinema, whenever sad movies tug their heart-strings. I wanted to execute John till this very day for making everyone shout ‘Mr Koh, Don’t go’ just outside the departure gates. The police almost sounded the security alert. In all, it was a chorus of fun and I know some meant it at heart…i take and receive your coming in heart and won't forget the words and wishes which helped me to make a start.

So were the items that came as precious gifts…the many big and special cards, the boxful layered coat of surprises which S11 gave me, hand-made chocolate blossoms from Jae and gang as well as Hidayah…(I finished it all for you dear!), Fengrui’s and Reg’s fighter jet, 06A02’s purple cow (why purple I wonder?), Sandra's anchor-frame reminding me what teaching is all about... and not forgetting my Ct class (04A02) book of self-made menus to keep me filled and hungry when nights get cold. Wenjie and Mermaid’s Big Bird all made the leaving a little easier to bear... i know which memories i'll hold on to when the day is complete. Not forgetting the words and quiet faith from my family & kin whom i'll miss the most.

Why didn’t I cry…? I wondered to myself…perhaps many tears have already been shed quietly, and on my own, in a quiet church, on a solo walk...way before today’s gathering and goodbye. In these moments, i uttered the same prayer of thanksgiving i have continually and faithfully said all these years of my life, that no paths will cross by mere coincidence or accident, that God has ordained these days to pass, these new ties to forge, this hour of gratitude and giving way before other days even began. I too am a grateful recepient of this grace...6 generations of students turning up before and at the airport to say goodbye, to standing on my own and seeing my usually stoic dad, mom, sis and aunts tear amid a throng of noise and encouragement from my close friends... it was a loud send-off with many lessons to bear...a deep-seated reminder of Your presence in my life, You watchful over my life, as always through people, places and moments which mark my existence from the very beginning.

I know I can well move on with the blessings everyone has given me. To my students and friends; you once said I brought you life. I now say you have returned me to Life...

I have and will walk into an empty room. It’s a small and modest one. But your love, goodwill and memory will once more, litter the spaces I will keep for you in many corners of my present life, in the fresh corners of my newfound place and the prayers which link us together at the start of each new day.