february first

indifference
that is how i would describe it;
a day that some are keen to remember.
and others are happy to celebrate.

i almost forgot about it as i sat in my room the night before, rummaging for army slacks and prepped myself for training the next day. and it was supposed to be my birthday. a little poem i wrote, describing what birthdays have become...the quiet recognition that time has passed...

a plain line of trees
at the end of city streets

heaven's edge
on a star's secret sky
the book of childhood
opened briefly, then shut for good

a swimmer who reaches the shore
his spirit, spent.

anguish
without the sting of sadness

a foreign sense of peace, pervading
as i stand older by a year. seeing
the spaces between me,
mark the place where i used to be.

i am grateful for the distance now,
as day closes and is washed in simple rain
while a certain blessing falls
as the cool sun burns to its end.

corrinne

corrinne may, live in chicago....this is one of the first songs which struck a deep chord in me...providing a quiet insight into her soul, her composition style, who she lives for, how she feels and what she yearns for... same side of the moon...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqDbIbApmy4

the bread i broke with you...

Music i heard with you was more than music,
and bread i broke with you
was more than bread...
conrad aiken

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found on a friend's msn attachment...

"If i could cash my friends, i'll be world's top ten richest men..."

i like that.

a line i can claim with a whole heart.......for a life of shared and present faith and the ties that bind...

kenneth, cj, peter, constance, pete, karen, john, rockies, cliff, carol, helena, sam, rena, vivian, boon, edward, greg, lailai, rahul, nil, keong, bob and blackie...longest of 18 years and the quiet depth in less than 2....some, my former teachers, others from my teenage years. some carry fur. still, a handful from varsity and the ones that appeared after drought and newfall rain.

thank u for being my friend...

the bird. the birds

a friend sent me this delightful account via sms. an actual incident which happened in an all girls' SAP school right here in Singapore. I laughed so hard, trying to imagine the horrified looks on both teachers and students and the omnious grin that all this may just be an omen... a pure spectre sent by mother nature...the laws of nature unfurled for all to see...hehehe...

dear coo-coo pigeons...screeching crows...screaming girls...aghast teachers...glam and grandeur of founder's day...civility, order, ceremonial pomp. feather flap and the ascent to truth, the elegance of flight. then sudden mayhem and murder. aerial attack on the loose...shredded feathers, talons and bayonet beaks, barely-visible drops of blood plus one clumsy knockout...poop...bird... die... die...bombakbom....diedie...liao...lo...steadybompeepee ahhh.....

heheheh

" so hilarious, ad told me today in her school they commemorated some founder's day crap by releasing two pigeons. Initially, they were reluctant to fly out of the cage but eventually they did, after some coaxing. Then u know what happened?!? This crow swooped down from nowhere and grabbed one of the birds and carried it away to be eaten like some wildlife documentary live footage while the other got so spooked it flew direct and smashed itself right onto a wall and concussed right in front of the whole school and some girls burst out crying..."

one psalm

O Lord, you search me and you know me,
you know my resting and my rising,
you discern my purpose from afar.
You mark when I walk or lie down,
all my ways lie open to you.

O search me, God and know my thoughts.
See that I follow not the wrong path
and lead me in the path of life eternal...
Psalm 139:1-3, 23-24

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Lord, reveal the stories beyond the valleys i find in life, where i cling to a protected space where i wish to be certain of everything. i rather gamble or make decisions in the name of instinct or fate, rather than rest secure before your simple presence or a crumbling yet trusting faith. i have reserved my own private time for self and those mental fabrications that inflate my little life. i seek humility through my own careful introspection. fear is mixed with yearnings and quiet greed with courage. and i withdraw into me.


prompt me to look back home. to space. single nights. and the history of my life which you redeemed and brought me through.

manatee's song

A song by billy dean

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-v2Y5JrJtc

i found an unusual, if not badly composed piece of montage dedicated to endangered manatees. the song was a jarring imposition on the message intended...anyway, these are terribly gentle creatures that inhabit the shores of florida. their rotund bodies are often mortally cut by fastboat propellers. another related species, known as dugongs, are found in southeast asia, sometimes as near as pulau tekong. i once took part in a feeding session at the singapore zoo. five dollars worth of freshly- steamed sweet potato tugged into the warm bristles that surround the slow stretch of soft-chewing lips. a dugong hugged the morsel with its fleshy flippers. and munched the tuber to a pulp. my hands still tickles from its touch.

elsewhere, an utterly harmless and serene creature dies- another unlived life. the song is a sentimental tribute to this fact. one may look beyond the obvious anthropomorphic intent on screen. however, the lyrics said something. it took me awhile to transpose the human sense of loss and recollection in this song to the world of manatees. if encapsulating this point is difficult, try to remember a favorite pet you lost or gave away as a child or an adult. you might have wondered about where he / she is, if the creature been alive or around still.

while writing, i recall the painful howl of a mother-hyena as she lost four of her cubs to a lion attack. the mother bravely defended her cubs in vain. she laid by the side, mortally wounded and yelped in certain loss for the pain that extended beyond her bloodied scars to the little ones mangled before her eyes. does that all amount to mere instinct? and so what if it is? isn't that a intrinsic substance of life in higher-forms of life as well- sensation, conscious reaction. fear, loss and apprehension...common bearings in many sentient beings. our intellect is quick to discount that which does not fit our limited schema. i always learn a valuable lesson from naturalists, poets, mystics and artists who look deeply and intently into the lifeworld of animals and grapple to find some connection there.

i recall this documentary about the tiger monastery in northern thailand, Wa Pa Luangta Bua. man and beast dwell in uncanny harmony. whoever makes any attempt to imagine this as magical or quiet exploitation must be blind.

i listen to dean's song again. its rhythm is purposeful...paced by skillful use of even metre and syllable. i detect a lyrical allusion to a chinese-themed ballad. still, it is just an instinct. am so tired of these regretful tones that everything calls for a distant recognition of how it should matter and why things need not remain the way they used to be. strange that i should attempt to test my terrain into man-animal psyche in this entry.... are manatees aware that they live on borrowed time? they maintain a sense of nonchalance in the manner which they paddle through the languid waters, not aware of the possible darkness ahead. content to lie in peace, a quiet decision made not to turn against much of a world that has ceased to save.

maybe then, this might be a song rewritten to abused, hunted and abandoned animals everywhere...

imagining their unlived lives...before mine.

Somewhere in My Broken Heart

You made up your mind
It was time it was over.

After we had come so far.

But I think there's enough pieces of forgiveness

Somewhere In My Broken Heart.

I would not have chosen

The road you have taken.

It has left us miles apart.

But I think I can still find the will to keep going

Somewere In My Broken Heart.

So fly, Go ahead and fly

Until you find out who you are.

And I, I will keep my love unspoken,

Somewhere In My Broken Heart.

I hope that in time

You find what you long for,

Love that's written in the stars.

When you finally do,

I think you will see it

Somewhere In My Broken Heart...

Girl I,

I will keep my love unspoken

Somewhere In My Broken Heart

I hope that in time,

You will find what you long for-

Love that's written in the stars.

And when you finally do,

Do I think you will see it

Somewhere In My Broken,

Somewhere In My Broken,

Somewhere In My Broken Heart

from country to country...

i smile in wonder as i take pride in being given a chance to touch on 24 states on my travels so far. these places and the experience they bring have become a rich source of reflection and poetry in many lessons when i least expect them to surface in the classroom. i do not think i will ever have the space or time to depict every journey on a blog.

there were times when comparison with other well-travelled buddies became an ego-battle of sorts as we challenged each other as to where we might head next. yet, travel is not about allowing your ego or pay-cheque to 'conquer' exotic spots you've been. it serves more as a quick escape from the limits of an island-cityscape. this recklessness and latent desire to explore new cultures and landscapes impart a sense of awe and humility... simply in knowing that there is no place i am able to know completely. i am none the wiser just because i have almost a decade of teaching experience, 3 degrees and 2 diplomas to put on my cv. i like my worldview to be cracked, my perceptions to be challenged by a language or custom that is alien to my own.

it is a warm insight. to recall this teaching as i look back on the many albums composed by these travels. i might discard them one day. every picture seems to betray the visual greed i had. when i look back, many fail to capture the feeling i had intended. i could be freer and happier to let the moment be. how stupid of me in wanting to possess what i can never grasp or even hold. in naming these places, i tell myself that i do not know enough to call them my own. they will never be. within these lands are a thousand more people i have yet to know, many pages of history i've yet to fully comprehend and the lores and songs of the seas, rivers, deserts, sky, air and land that humble and diffuse the false sense knowledge of my personal world. i stepped on these countries only to find a partial track to nowhere...i guess the real work must begin from within.

west and east malaysia, indonesia, thailand, laos, vietnam, philippines, china, mongolia, hong kong, taiwan, south korea, india, sri lanka, australia, new zealand, turkey, hungary, holland, czech republic, austria, spain, portugal, usa, mauritius

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sri lanka: 9-21 dec 2007

on a recent bagpacking trip to sri lanka....a very poor nation torn by decades of civil war. my best experience was to feel at home in a strange way; i felt regarded as a visitor, not quite a tourist (unike certain spots in Indonesia). over here, expect your seat to be hovered around by well-meaning stares and bemused expressions, i.e. whenever you step into a local eatery and order food in a spattering of english given emphasis by hints of a body in language. the cooks and attendants would do everything in their power to assure and protect you from their lava-hot olive curries and dishes known to be dressed in potent swathes of chilli padi. your palate is cared for...and most meals were served in with more than a smile...sweet tea to soothe an abused tongue and or extra dahl simply because your larger morsels showed you liked them so much.

on a train that moves beyond the mist. my legs dangled over a yard of valleys and the mark of a constant waterfalls. hungry. i pick from a providential basket of vadai and chickpea selling for 20 rupees (less than $S0.30) onboard. overland, village boys lead the road to a lake by a gentle wind. a saffron-clad junior monk continues to wave from a faraway monastery. the colours carry on with their song: there were tea-pickers in sari- their back-breaking work awashed in waves of blue, gold and green. they moved, some on bare feet...i saw a quiet circle of gold, a toe-ring worn on the very end of their feet. the path was muddied. and became asphalt at times. black with a hint of gold. i sense toil and dignity in their stride as they picked their tea.

resorts on the east were overun by dogs. they lead a spartan life. facing the blue seas daily. a few were saved from the tsunami. i stayed on galle face hotel. the equivalent to the raffles, in colombo. the classic wing had a bathtub marked by murderous stains (straight from the classic psycho movie...) and the prison-slit of windows were dressed in aged mosquito nets. i slumped by body by chairs of a saltwater pool. content to stare blankly at the indian ocean for the third time in my life...(the last was at port louis, mauritius and chennai plus goa in india). i was at chennai's marina beach at 3pm in 2004. i left a day later. At the same time, the tunami swept in and took everyone by surprise. am taking it slow. not knowing when life will close again, i sharpen my stand, bend my knees. angle my hand and jump

into sweetpurple and the blue of full release as the cold sky witholds its judgement, and blesses the body's roots to hunger.

landscape. 2008

new year's eve by east coast, content to see families and independent scores of revellers bbqing the night away. the old smells of corn, chicken and prawn reminding me of an idyllic childhood spent in st john's island. the quiet spell was occasionally undercut by rhythms from sunset bay. they were playing the 80s...tots, teens, yuppies in berms and old men & ladies in jeans boogey the last hours away. i caught the sight of ships releasing their flares into the night as the clock struck twelve. airliners were making their descent to changi. they were several every minute. what is it like to arrive in a new country on the last hours of a year? or step onto seasoned ground as the new year came? the cabin must be draped in a party-mood. anticipations ahead.

we had one bottle of shiraz with us. some fine glasses to complete that old bond.


then the texts came...a friend asked for prayers. her friend's her 5 year old son drowned today. another former student contacted me online- a badly- timed breakup. she was in pain and needed to chat. i taught them both so the news still came as a shock. my friend was reminded of his own when the same thing happened to him 3 years back. all on the eve of the a new and suspicious year that can easily start in goodwill and close in bad fate. mortal death. relational deaths. no beginnings in sight. a stark bruise of sadness festering into grief. pointless are our attempts to control the tides of life when it throws and sharpens our absent fate on rocks. lives smashed by the safe shores of our giving, our sometimes blind and faithful dreams.

i no longer believe in the need for resolutions. there is also nothing more to believe or to cast away. what is urgent and real lies in the simple cold truth: to be more present to myself and others, just for today. what matters today may extend to the future. but the energies and opportunities present this hour will not return nor can they ever be reclaimed. there is a empty sense of freedom in the new air i breathe. a yet-to-be-named moment to come: when i am finally able to see the white rays of first light extend beyond the familiar forest of trees. walking, i home in on a song, the barren and celebrated road leading to the orphanage within.

rest

good that the year is ending soon. am well rested. never felt so ready for the year ahead. it could have been due to my recent backpacking trip. there are times when a new surge of awareness emerges from within, a momentary freedom from a life of self-imposed constraint and regiment. the temptation is to move on, thinking that all came by chance or even by fate. i struggle to recognise the presence and lordship of Christ in the middle of all these tides and movements in life.

i pray still each afternoon or night when i fall down to sleep. grateful that the sinews of my body work in accordance to the dreams and journeys on the sky and ground. there are quiet leaps made, to the quick comfort of a forgotten childhood. sometimes, i can only look back in wonder on the years of loss and bereavment that mark my schooldays. there is a deferred sense of arrival in all this. an awkward space between a fresh discovery and the old nostalgic need to steal home a stolen dream.

i no longer feel alot for terms like year-end 'resolutions' or the 'happiness' wished for, on a year that has yet to be lived. there is only one stark and unsentimental truth to all this hapless pondering: that life has little meaning apart from the relationships we forge with ourselves and others. there is also a deep spirit to our common bond, an awareness that may wound or redeem us in the same instance. this opens up a road we may choose to take on or ignore...the risk that comes from our giving as. opposed to the safety felt in holding back or being wary of our actual needs

before december

07...december twenty-fifth

sitting in a room facing the last patters of rain. the sky is dusted in orange orche, the last marks of monsoon dusk settling quietly into place. i look at my old entries and now, they suddenly appear thick, foggy and strange. much has changed. you sense the newfound space between the best of friends. some fall away. others walked ahead. i stood by a grove of white trees as they blossom into prayer; leaves of song uncovering other pathways, marking the distance between a wounded needy world and a needed sheltered cave.

a cluster of ashen dreams dissipates, in various intermitten memories, by years & batch, on the fire by the beach. the heaps are ready to be blown by the untested freedom found in wind. high above, a bright arc of night grows more inviting by the hour, making visions arrive, divided. it felled that old forest of dreams, making fresh light pour in.

i renew the native in me. someone not seen in a lifetime. rarely spoken. someone emerges from the valley.

someone yet to see.

and all this while, i never once forget how my father called my name, always in that still, insistent voice. i have never been lost yet i was found again.

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...may another year of care and meaning be found inside u, this christmas...thanks for making this year so complete for me.