Closing a cycle, and beginning another –


I felt a tug when i opened my blog today. I read the postings put up by former students who have embarked on other pathways in life. They popped by to wish me on teacher's day, an occasion which is not celebrated here in Australia. It's warms the heart to find familiar names and memories knocking on your door once more, a door you thought you wanted to shut tight long after the break was taken and accepted. Their names are clothed in recognition; a voice, a gesture, an unexpected remark that lifted me momentarily from the humdrum of college life. I look back (now) with a wry sense of humour on the rougher moments of this vocation, when the temptation to cast it all away, with an air of indifference became undeniably strong and palpable. It drained to care, to bother, to advise, to lead. And some refused to listen and challenged you likewise to respect their search for space and freedom. There are few handful whom i shouted at and others whose work i penalized...and countless others who led me to greater patience and humility by the stories you told me. Exhausting as it is, teaching remains a vocation, a calling that i answered and never looked back. It was also a call i fought to defend, to nurture and to keep, from all other externalities that might have eroded what time and grace bestowed.

What would you make of all the exam-taking, assembly monitoring, temperature-taking, work-chasing, endless marking, revising, periodic planning... when all else is over? Perhaps, nothing abides except the trails you've taken with your students, past landmarks and horizons both had wanted to seek within the short time you are called to journey together.

Towards the end of her life, Mother Teresa said something close to reconciling the distance and intimacy these experiences made-

"I must not attempt to control God's actions. I must not count the stages in the journey he would have me make. I must not desire a clear perception of my advance along the road. Nor know precisely where i am on the way to eternal life. I ask of him to make a saint of me, yet i must leave to him the choice of the means which lead to it."

I am no saint in the making. Yet my faith calls me to believe in the molding. I know, however that i'm on my way in arriving at a place of greater self-awareness, when the divergent options of life no longer stifle, when the incessant expectations others have no longer weakens, a time to come when we live fully in the present without fear of an unknown future.
The following note was given to my last CT class before i made plans to go away for a short time. It came alive for me today even in the midst of my composition.

I wish the same for all my students and friends who have walked a portion of our world with me. Thank you once more for your notes and lifelong affirmation. And today is the second day of spring...

------------------------------------------------- As promised, the following article is adapted from Paul Coelho...04A02, you ought to be familiar with this...

"One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters- whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have been made complete.

Were you angry that your family did not work out the way you wanted it? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you abandon your faith? Squander your studies? Kicked away your plans? Have you climbed out of past failures or even a recent nightmare? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that. But such an attitude may bear little fruit for everyone involved: yourself, your parents, your close friends, your best friends, your cousin, your siblings, your schoolmates, your teachers…everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot forever be children, young adolescents, sons or daughters that feel guilt or rancor towards ourselves, our parents, or lovers who day and night relive an imaginary or real affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back. Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.

That is why it is so important (however painful it may be) to take stock, recollect and remember. Sometimes, this may bring a blessing. At other times, it brings a tinge of pain or regret. Some require letting go of souvenirs, or to give a bit of our past, its tender moments away to orphanages or someone seeking another home (be it a place or in their hearts), or by giving life to someone by sharing a life experience you had. Not everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world. “What is essential is sometimes invisible to the eye”, a Little Prince once said. What goes on in our hearts, in letting go and taking stock of certain memories also mean making some room for other memories to take their place. And we go on & grow from there.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. There is a time for joy, and there is a time for grieving. Try and when you give, hard as it may be, do not expect anything in return. Do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again- the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss or played well at a certain game: that may poison you, nothing else. There is a time to uproot. There will be a time to plant again.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships or friendships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off lying in wait. Before a new chapter has begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person. Some things will remain irreplaceable and a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is necessary knowledge in becoming, in being the person you want to be.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because some no longer fit your life. Shut a certain door, shake off the dust, plant another seed, wipe your windowpanes, or hold on to faith.

It’s ok. It is ok to move on at times. But do turn back and remember.

Some roads are meant to cross again, and they will...

And all shall be well."
----------------------------------

THE CREATION OF A TEACHER

While God was creating teachers, He was into His sixth day of 'overtime' when the angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around with this one."
And God said, "Have you read the specifics of this order? "

She has to: stand above all her students, yet be on their level, be able to do 180 other things not connected with the subject she teaches, have 6 pairs of hands to run events, mark essays, set exam papers, purchase tees, run on coffee, mars bars and late lunches, communicate vital knowledge to hundreds of students daily, and be right and fair, have as much, and sometimes more time for his job as he does for himself, have a smile that can endure everything from practical jokes to detached faces, go on teaching when parents question her every move , when students do not cooperate and the endless administration requests for deadlines.

The angel shook his head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands! Not possible.""It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said God. "It's the three pairs of eyes that teachers have to have.""Is that on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

"One pair that can see a student for what he is and not what society has labelled him. Another pair must be in the back of his head, to see what he shouldn't, but what he has to know. Of course, the ones here in front can look at a student when he goofs up and reflect, 'I understand and I still believe in you," without so much as uttering a word."

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, "Go to bed. Please. Why not continue tomorrow?"
"I can't," said God. "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself.
Already I have one who comes to work when he is too sick ...can still teach a class when they don't want to learn...loves hundreds of children and teenagers that are not her own through the years...and all of this in both sexes. And wait until you see my Special Education teacher! He is truly special; he will never take anything his students do for granted."

The angel circled the model of the teacher very slowly. "It's too soft," he sighed."But tough," said God excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this teacher can do or endure.""Can she think?""Not only can she think, but she can reason and compromise too."

Finally the angel bent over and ran his fingers across the cheek of the teacher."There's a leak," he pronounced. "I told you that you were putting too much into this model. You can't imagine the stress factor."


God moved in for a closer look and gently lifted the drop of moisture to His finger where it glistened and sparkled in the light.
"It's not a leak," He said. "It's a tear."
"A tear?" asked the angel. "What's it for?"

"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, compassion, pain, loneliness.
And pride."

"You are a genius," said the angel.


The Lord looked somber,

"I didn't put it there."

author unknown
------------------------------------------
happy teachers' day to fellow teachers who have come and gone, moved and passed along the corridors of my life and whose values continue to influence mine today. To all former students who may enter the vocation one day, may this passage bear good fruits in your heart, long after the years are over, just as it did for me...

A Parable of Trees


Once there were three trees on a hill in the
woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams
when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to
be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver
and precious gems. I could be decorated with
intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."
Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be
a mighty ship. I will Take kings and queens across
the waters and sail to the corners of the
world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."

Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow
to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest.
People will see me on top of the hill and
look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always
remember me."

After a few years of praying that their
dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.

At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to
the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship. When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down.

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.

Then one day, a man and woman came to the
barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people
mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

author unknown


Lord, it seems each of the trees got what they wanted, but not in the way they had imagined. We fear to trust you at times; desiring more yet not having the patience to wait for your wide blessing. At times, we wonder if you are playing a game with our dreams.

Lord Jesus, give us a little grace to uncover your song of life on our journeys, allowing our stories to be mapped on your Cross; the years of waiting breaking forth beyond a distant hillside, where looking back, we shall see the how often we meet our destiny on the roads we took to avoid it...

amen

jean de fontaine (adapted)

People* (and sometimes, pets* or animals*) come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person (or creature).

When someone* is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person* will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they fade and die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people* come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh or cry. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person* and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life, whether you entered as part of a reason, a season or a lifetime.... anon (adapted).

tree pic. taken on elm cottage, tarrawarra abbey.

garfish, octopus & falafel friends...

meeting Life can sometimes amount to revisioning the mundane. just like buying groceries & fresh produce. there is a crop of mismatched creatures from the market this morning- silvery garfish and whole octopus; one distinguished by pointed beaks, the other by soft curls of tentacles. and the everyday chye sim which i placed in a bottle of water to keep fresh only to watch it bloom by the second day, unlikely daffodils, spraying corners of the house with colour together with the granny smith green apples and clumps of hardcore broccoli we bought for less than one dollar fifty! other days, it was off to brunswick street for a greek 'banquet' or so they say with marieanne, anton and ad...our white plates topped with roast kid goat with rosemary and slabs of fresh swordfish surrounded by eggplant, salmon mousse and soothing cold cucumber. just came home from the seminary tonight, laughing ourselves to bits looking at deacon thinh and his seminary mates belting out cheesy acts and convoluted scenes snatched from aussie soaps and monty p. clips...reverends, pastors and priests who never looked so neat and relaxed in their various garbs, some resembling elvis, others plain cheery and rolly-polly on the run. the morning brings me back to my table of plenty, basking in remnant sunlight, overlooking the distant city skyline with raw spinach, light broth and grilled fish for lunch and a stack of heavy-duty books to bind another day with the quiet dignity of work (hopefully) and the blessed escapades to come...

After the Fire by Boey Kim Cheng
STimes 20 Aug.

A note of thanks to my former lit. students who alerted me about Boey's latest collection, After the Fire, launched recently after a hiatus of 10 years...special thanks also to Aziz who sent the STimes article (Sunday Times 20 August) all the way from home. From what i recalled, it has indeed taken him alot to step out into the public to share his thoughts once more. I enjoyed the article because it reflected much of his voice and the many roads and moments we took in walking with Another Place.

I would like to encourage all to attend the book launch on Sept. 9 , 7pm at S'pore Art Museum. Would certainly be there if circumstances permitted so.

Take my place, if you can and support our homegrown writers who have done and broken so much word to lead you home.




















we go on without a return ticket, on the trail
of the vanished song

another place

the time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome...

...the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

derek walcott: love after love

mixtures and memories...

here are two wodges of pages dedicated to 2003-2004 oldie students who have returned from the blues...just like to say i appreciate the occasional notes you drop on my blog...from news of boey kim cheng's latest collection (which i had no clues about until seok and aziz beeped me!) to your undertakings at university life and beyond (hehe to cerina, lay KWan, maybel, rachel etc) and khai's unexpected drop-in with the a04 gang...not forgetting bertha mason's sensitive renditions of what i've penned...and to many more... thanks for staying in touch and letting me know that you are well, yes i miss our moments too, be they in peacetime or wartime (remember that proverbial "GET OUT!" day?) i hope these pictures bring back many memories for you. be warned that some are never-before-seen footage of college days... will leave you to compose the captions yourselves!

singapore-flavoured
singaporeans

we went to chadstone to shop, apparently the most colossal shopping centre in the southern hemisphere...to me, it was merely a conglomeration of CKTang, Taka, Bugis Junction and Jurong Point all rolled into one, a pork-barrel of luxury goods and impossibly-priced merchandise housed in a buyer-sphere. Among us, there were 5 teachers (pri, sec, jc), 2 principals, an arts administrator and one undergrad- all singaporeans. Independent and shopperholic (erm, am more a travelholic and foodieholic), we trudged the miles with an ever-determined smile, complaining of the blistering summer to come and the endless assignments that are due... And then it happened,

it had to-

the traffic lights went red, the cars stopped and we hurried each other across the road, some raising their voice as if a truckload of tractors were about to roll before us, 2 ran like olympic athletes, another walked so leisurely and many strolled as if the road belonged to our great great grandfathers, ever-confident, timing our footwork to an exact minute just before the beeping redman vanished from our sight.

Once off the road, we stomped and marched and trudged proudly...toward that
lump of concrete maze filled with dazed shoppers wondering where and when to spend their next dollar. thank goodness i went for the company.

our first stop was the foodcourt. the salads and burgers and rice portions were as usual, fit for vegan-omnivorous dinosaurs, enough to sustain you for one last ice-age. i stinched on 2 sticks of $AUD 2 sushi rolls, about the cheapest in the store and later fell for a pack of irresistable chips that would hopefully warm me for the journey back...then we disappeared...and arranged to meet quarter past 3 at a designated spot. Independent deluxe tours.

Hours later, we returned...a few with their auntie-bags of goodies; files (why never get from Popular, cheaaaper wat!!!) , clips (huh, why so ex!) , a bart simpson bag (wah cute leh cute leh) pepsi bottle (wa lau eh, so boliao), griller (for my sweet wife mah) and a namecard of sorts ( i want to get a puppy next time, so cheap why pay like hell back home, here got cheap vaccination also)...

a quick dose of verbal warmth and temporal relief, the diction smelled like home, a grammar of thoughts spelling out many meanings of fun with the familiar hue of singlish slapped on our lips. ranks and files did not exist...professions all melted into one common humanity; teachers, principals, undergrad and arts manager all clothed in delight, thrilled like the mid-noon sun...

then we crossed a line of roads once more, the same traffic lights and law-abiding citizens playing with time and tapping the best of courteous aussie drivers (unlike some old hounds back home), all safe and sound, a loud chorus of guffaws and wide-eyed grins marked our faces, knowing intuitively that the same scene could have taken place across junctions at Orchard, Woodlands, Bedok and Lim Chu Kang roads- pesudo ah-soh, ah-boys, ah-lians and uncles decked in light thermal casual wear, exchanging local talk, shining singlish on the run, not quite missing home yet smelling so much of singapore...

When Love Takes You In
steven curtis chapman
www.mp3.com/albums/497794/summary.html

I know you’ve heard the stories
But they all sound too good to be true.
You’ve heard about a place called home,
But there doesn’t seem to be one for you.
So one more night you cry yourself to sleep,
And drift off to a distant dream...

When love takes you in and everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart,
When love takes you home and says you belong here
The loneliness ends and a new life begins,
When love takes you in...

And somewhere while you’re sleeping
Someone else is dreaming too.
Counting down the days until
They hold you close and say I love you.
And like the rain that falls into the sea,
In a moment what has been is lost in what will be...

When love takes you in everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart,
And this love will never let you go.
There is nothing that could evercause this love to lose its hold.

When love takes you in, everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart,
When love takes you home and says you belong here,
The loneliness ends and a new life begins.

When love takes you in
It takes you in for good,
When love takes you in...

In memory of Magdalene Leck ( 1969- 2006) who passed away suddenly
this august...
now receiving eternal rest to where your heart yearns to finally, belong...

with love, little rocks

dedicated to friends at little rock -


The following prayer was found at the Ravensbruck death camp where 92,000 women and children died. It was scrawled on wrapping paper near a dead child.

'LORD, remember not only the men and women of good will but also those of ill will. But do not only remember the suffering they have inflicted on us; remember the fruits we have brought, thanks to this suffering -our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this, and when they come to judgement, let all the fruits we have borne be their forgiveness...'


dear rockies, thanks for sharing this excerpt. i was reminded of our regular sunday gathering where we broke the Word and confronted each other with the reality of our lives. i have grown much because of you- life is a little more grey at times...the thin line between universal and personal suffering becomes clearer and worn out as the years go by. The erosion is a good one...and shakes us out of our own air-conditioned comfort and security. i remember praying with you each sunday evening at st mary's...sharing everything from grace to humour and tidbits, or painful ambivalence and sometimes a ridicule or two about the state of our lives...prayer makes us put our petty complaints aside and turn inward, challenged to unite our temporal needs to the urgent needs of a forgotten world and its abandoned corners, right outside the safe shelter of our room...done often without ever knowing or expecting how the cry of prisoners at guantanamo bay will be heard, or the needs of a starving child in dafur be met...a cruel irony that we would pray so helplessly in total security while the rest languish toward death...our smiles an inconsequential reflection of human fraility and the persistent knocking of our hearts which our Lord continually begs us to answer...the cost and price of fidelity even as we serve and meet him and others in our world...

discipleship-
our sharing of mystery, in faith and suffering... our sharing of Christ, in the 'burnt women, men and children' (Merton: 7th Storey Mountain) of our world... amen

grapefruit,lemon,citrus days...

chris drove us to visit his family just 2km north of the Abbey. along the way there were trees in half-bloom, some in full, ready to peek at spring. there were wafts of country smoke swirling from the chimmney, hints of freshly-brewed tea, scones and shortcake from marie's kitchen.... a timely serving of tunch to keep winter pangs at bay...had fun plucking lemons from the garden--- adolescent boys and their citrus-ballgames which almost wrecked the trees to bits...a tumble of goodwill and generosity... those fruits would save us a few more dollars in the market, the intense pods of VitC ensures that chills and sniffs are tucked away as we continue this half-baked winter holiday...

elm cottage mornings

visited tarrawarra abbey once more and had a fantastic reunion with the chua bros (joseph & samuel) and old pals like Pat Burton, not forgetting the monastic fraternity who extended a warm welcome to us. there was plenty of catching up to do- city news, uni days, family fare, local stuff and mealtimes to share. the dawn was cast in winter light- a warm spray of sunrays and scented dew where old oaks stood in timeless respect for the place where many prayers have been said...elm cottage is used as a hermitage for families or individuals who wish to spend time in solitude. located about 5 mins from the main monastery, it looked like a wooden hut extracted and rebuild from Huckleberry Fin's homestead, supplied by rain and river water, backed by a heater or two to ensure healthy sustenance. there is a side chapel and certain corners looked as if they were freshly torn from a page of poems composed by time and landscape...i picked out near- samples and ran my fingers along the seasoned timber of a house, lodged in prayer and drenched daily in silence...a disused barrow from Merton's journals, brown sprigs in Basho's haiku, distant ponds in Wordsworth's Preludes and the singing trees from Rilke's canticles... the magpies flew overhead and landed on the grass, sturdy creatures who wore the same habits as the monks, sharing common timbres in chant and the cadence of flight. the days passed into the evenings and the hermitage became a temporary home and solace for friends.

resting place and sabbath mornings,
respite from the city...and to urban folks who seek to find rest-










O God of freedom, i come to you weary with all i have experienced. I cannot resolve the past, only accept it. Give me insight to see the good in the grief i go through. Give me courage to dare to dream again and be with me in my dreaming. We place our whole lives in your hands. Guide us. Create us. Shape us. Call us to life and we will live again.

amen

-adapted from helen jaeger's paths through grief