second life

a friend plans to leave her workplace for elsewhere. single, she is also keen to settle in another place, this time, within a new home to call her own. a note / sms forwarded, shared with someone known. it was no mere text message but a deep summon toward embracing the wider contour of life. my friend, you must go on as you have planned and i do support you! you are a good teacher and a valued person in your workplace. you will be missed. my question is ' would you feel the same if you were settled in your own nest with a beloved one?' we will never know. we need our own nest and be nestled with love life blossoming. a sense of completeness dawns.

we drive ourselves in want of "more" fulfilment in our lives...yet it is love and loving someone, a spouse or partner and soulmate who completes us. God created us so. Of course, i am speaking from my own story. i never planned my life to be this 'ending' - in solitude and nothingness (no family, no career, no validation). we do what we need to redefine 'the missing piece' to fill 'the hole in our soul'. i hear you as i have heard my own thoughts and driven my energy as you are driving today. my thoughts may not be as clear but i am in full support of you, my friend. Go and be confident always...

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inner secret lives

we've heard of the secret life of plants, insects and the like...

ever heard

of the secret or rather, the inner life of words?

many thanks to yvonne for the take :)

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PRESBYTERIAN: When you rearrange the letters-

BEST IN PRAYER

ASTRONOMER: When you rearrange the letters-

MOON STARER

THE EYES:
When you rearrange the letters-

THEY SEE
GEORGE BUSH:

When you rearrange the letters-

HE BUGS GORE


THE MORSE CODE:

you rearrange the letters-

HERE COME DOTS

SLOT MACHINES:

When you rearrange the letters-

CASH LOST IN ME

ANIMOSITY:

When you rearrange the letters-

IS NO AMITY

ELECTION RESULTS:

When you rearrange the letters-

LIES - LET'S RECOUNT

SNOOZE ALARMS:

When you rearrange the letters-

ALAS! NO MORE Z 'S

A DECIMAL POINT:
When you rearrange the letters-

I'M A DOT IN PLACE

THE EARTHQUAKES:

THAT QUEER SHAKE

ELEVEN PLUS TWO is

TWELVE PLUS ONE

AND FOR THE GRAND FINALE:

MOTHER-IN-LAW:

When you rearrange the letters:

WOMAN HITLER

muss, manic, mathematical mess

i was never good at math. dreaded it. despised it. cursed it. trampled on it. a pure stream of suppressed expletives marshalled against it. i couldn't see anything beyond the single-minded honour for empirical logic and the unshakeable conviction that hard sets of cold data (that lock each angle to a fit and always guarantee the right answer to everything...well...almost) and 101 equations amount to high intelligence and intellectual brilliance. back in school, i was taught that sheer persistence ensures perfect completion to every score. still, much of math still eludes me. it somehow lacks the dark and rich knowledge of anthropology, the empathic science in social work and the redemptive visions found in literary studies. those were my majors in university. i found my calling after years of aimless faltering within a sterile bureaucracy that relies too much on numbers to determine social and future reality.


i do best in subjects which help me tackle, dislodge and understand the mysteries of being human. maybe that was why i could never appreciate the full power of mathematics...simply because it did not do much to quench my thirst to touch the ultimate mysteries of one's existence and our place on planet earth. like most urbanites in many industralised countries, i live in a state where statistics are sometimes used to measure thoughts, perceptions and beliefs of people which in reality, resist any form of quantification. we refrain from cultivating our own search or experience of truth. instead, many of us may have become too used convenient sets of 'calculable' truths we work hard to fashion for ourselves.



still, i find it a miracle that my mediocre command of this subject could have taken me this far. some have gone a little further than me...their ex(curs)ions into this domain proved to be rather inspiring-

shocked?

you shouldn't be.

enough venting...

attached are some illustrious examples; moments when humour and childlike non-sense triumped over precision and logic... to think i was there before...we turn back time and discover that maybe, we were never that bad...much less alone on our futile quest to love math.

this IS the ultimate:

sport and spirituality

Thanks to Lianne for the clip...


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A son asked his father, 'Dad, will you take part in a marathon with me?'
The father who, despite having a heart condition, says 'Yes'. They went on to complete the marathon together.Father and son went on to join other marathons, the father always saying 'Yes' to his son's request of going through the race together.One day, the son asked his father, 'Dad, let's join the Ironman together.' To which, his father said 'Yes' to.For those who didn't know, Ironman is the toughest triathlon ever. The race encompasses three endurance events of a 2.4 mile (3.86 kilometer) ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile (180.2 kilometer) bike ride, and ending with a 26.2 mile (42.195 kilometer) marathon along the coast of the Big Island.Father and son went on to complete the race together.



View this



http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=8cf08faca5dd9ea45513




it brought mixed feelings...the potential silliness of it all, an almost laughable and near-retort of going to great lengths to fulfil a wish that may have been made in other less life-threatening ways.


that was the cynic in me speaking.


and then i think of God's own love for us. the apparent silliness of it all. an almost laughable near-retort of going to great lengths to fulfil a will that could not be completed in other ways. God sent his only son to die for us. Word made flesh. The face of Christ. receiving spittle, curses and barbs from those whose authority he gave, whose souls he made. when we return in faith, he makes the same leap of faith, promising to run the race with us till the end...


where would u see yourself and your journey with God in this clip? were u always the impaired soul who needed his lift? or does your mustard seed of faith 'help' God instead, to keep believing in the soul he has already saved...(?)

thoughts by the patio

Etymology, history, meaning-

patio
1828, "inner court open to the sky," from Sp. patio probably from O.Prov. patu, pati "untilled land, communal pasture," from L. pactum "agreement" (see pact). Another theory traces the Sp. word to L. patere "to lie open." Meaning "paved and enclosed terrace beside a building" first recorded 1941.

–noun, plural -i·os.

1.
an area, usually paved, adjoining a house and used as an area for outdoor lounging, dining, etc.

2.
a courtyard, esp. of a house, enclosed by low buildings or walls.
[Origin: 1820–30, Americanism; <>

we started with nothing. an austere space on the search for meaning. reco and i scouted the backlanes of holland v and ikea to source for furniture. even dempsey road wasn't spared. i drew energy from the council who juggled work, post-exam blues, copious amounts of sweat, communal tensions and cramped necks to get the project moving. 8th council legacy. and parts of it came framed with poetry. draped in classic hues of black and framed by infinite bands of white. there are tufts of grass, a sofa, a swing and carpet-reds that map the floor...propped with warm collection of bamboo seats…what more do you need? it lies sandwiched the academic hallways of the college...a delicious and warm fudge-mix of home-based eclecticism specially dedicated to all students and teachers. allows easy access to the staff room as well as the library. an outdoor lounge to chill or retreat whenever one needs to study, chat or simply, to dream and be. i sound like an estate agent already.

patio. another nook away from the loud deadlines and echoes that pepper our days...it stands ready to remind us that quality time and our friendships with each other go a long way to help us grow and mature as individuals. the stark walls capture the artistry of students and teachers who have inscribed their philosophies in print, defining at this point, on what it means to live a truly meaningful life.

come by the patio. and bless our lives, today.

the orphanage

http://www.theorphanagemovie.com/

now showing...

i appreciate a good film especially foreign movies which give you a different take on life, a second reading of old phenomena or should i say, facts, that others have written about- to death...this film is in spanish and it comes laced with another truth so poignant it weighs heavy on you long after you've left the cinema

it seems that even ghosts have a story...are lonely and seek familiar company...

a little gold, a little rock

between us...five doctors, two engineers, two social workers, a gym instructor, three teachers of english, music, speech and drama, a pharmacist, a homemaker, a podiatrist, an assistant professor and two children whose lives are just beginning to unfold...we met unknowingly when our paths crossed along the cold lanes we walked. one left law for community service. others came from top JCs. one just took his medical exams at oxford. another never got pass her As. some never did honours. others stopped at the Os...

but titles, entitlements, pay cheques and namesakes were never an issue with us. stepping far from the usual trappings that divide society into class and mannerisms, we dug deep for what is mortal and human, and saw the shortness of lives that came to be.

you helped me hold the Word and i saw with your eyes how a verse could cut our lives, make us witness the redemptive work of grief and loss. our stories tell of our hopes and our becoming...of women, men & children even as we pace our walk with Christ's. At Easter, we are drawn again from the blue shadows of doubt to the bright fresh gold of dawn.

that night in vivo city...i find faith in meaning what i say...i like just being with you. many may have come and gone...but you chose to stay and belong .

bystander

'thank you'

'sorry'

'excuse me'

-words which some students no longer use these days...what is the point of scoring straight distinctions and obtaining scholarships if they do not even remember the importance of these terms? what has school become? whatever happened to character-education?

wise words spoken in a smattering of singlish and malay, by 2 school attendants, overheard in a canteen teeming with hungry teenagers with notes and heavy books on their hands...

gosh

a former student, msn-ed me, and asked me to help him proof-read his first varsity essay. i flatly declined, said no. in case you are are reading this, i hope you'll understand why.

another asked several teachers to pen a recommendation form for her to enter a prestigious faculty, without first supplying or specifying any information about her achievements, aspirations or attainments as required in the application form. i taught her for less than 6 months. and i am assumed to possess omnipotent knowledge of her entire life journey. i am sorry i lack all the required information. and i am supposed to dig more info from her and other teachers (CCA and 4 other subjects) and gather them on my own.

no.

i do not recall asking my jc teachers to vet my term essays when i was at uni. at best, my brave push to intellectual independence was the best credit i could give her. she caught a glimpse of my hons thesis only in my fourth year when i offered to share it with her when we met up again. i can still remember her look of pride. and i felt good to come back and know that i have moved on, further than what i could ever imagine. it felt (and still feels) good to be there.

many former students send me their best uni essays so as to share their insights after weeks, months or even a year of intensive research which they embarked on their own. i felt enriched by their knowledge, humbled as they come of age, on their own.
when it comes to my own testimonials, i exercised logic and intiative, made courtesy and effort to supply my professors or referees with all the information i could muster when i needed their help to write a recommendation letter. they were more than willing to help because i assisted them with all the information i wanted them to include, some which they could never have obtained on their own. i knew my place. i followed protocol. and i learnt to be independent and helpful. i also sent a thank-u card in return, regardless of the final outcome

have we all been educating a generation so used to spoon-feeding and a 'take-for-granted mentality' that they have lost a sense to secure their own footing in life?

i hope i have not failed any of you in that regard.

adulthood. independence. self-care. gratitude. detachment; shedding the securities of the past and riding on what i have been given....and have learnt...

i move on that way..and never forgot those who led me to this day...

you too, can do the same.

Father... why?

thanks lawrence for sharing this song. Lent this year had passed unevenly for me. this song invites me to enter more personally into holy week, as i take the place of that little girl...who stood unknowingly before passion & death of Jesus... dedicated to all searching pilgrims everywhere...may the same God who opens the door to our salvation, meet u again at the end of every broken and waking dream, giving you the faith to bring u home...

Why?
Nicole Nordeman

song : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lX-lafNe3cc

We rode into town the other day,
just me and my Daddy.
He said I’d finally reached that age,
and I could ride next to him
on a horse that of course
was not quite as wide.

We heard a crowd of people shouting
and so we stopped to find out why.
There was that man that my dad said he loved,
but today there was fear in his eyes.

So I said Daddy why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why is he dressed in that bright purple robe?
I bet that crown hurts him more than he shows.

Daddy please can’t you do something?
He looks as though he’s gonna cry.
You said he is stronger than all of those guys-
Daddy please tell me why,
why does everyone want him to die?

Later that day the sky grew cloudy
and daddy said I should go inside.
Some how he knew things would get stormy,
boy was he right.

But I could not keep from wondering
if there was something he had to hide.
So after he left, I had to find out,
I was not afraid of getting lost.

So I followed the crowds to a hill where I knew men had been killed.
And I heard a voice come from a cross:
And it said : Father why are they screaming.
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why are they casting their lots for my robes?

This crown of thorns hurts me more than it shows.
Father please can’t you do something?
I know that you must hear my cry.
I thought I could handle a cross of this size,

"Father remind me why, why does everyone want me to die?
When will I understand why?

My precious Son, I hear them screaming.
I’m watching the face of the enemy beaming
but soon I will clothe you in robes of my own.
Jesus this hurts me much more than you know,
but this dark hour I must do nothing.
Though I’ve heard your unbearable cry —
the power in your blood destroys all the lies,
soon you’ll see past their unmerciful eyes.


Look there below
see the child trembling by her father’s side.
Now I can tell you why,
she is why you must die."

tasik kenyir

we drove more than 9 hours to arrive at tasik kenyir, terengganu. it was a needed and needful break. we dispensed with all the usual luxury and crashed onto a houseboat. trekked into bat caves and felt the fright of temporal darkness. certain spirits remained. ignoring those whispers, we bathed & soaked by ice-cool waterfalls and endured soiled-moist days & chills of tropic falls. mr pang, our reliable skipper, caught freshwater fish and ordered them cooked them by the lake. and macik dished out plates of nasi lemak, catfish curry, ulam, tomyam and nasi goreng within the span of 3 full days. kept our bellies full. we wondered how a floating kampung of sorts could keep us safe from primeval hantus and age-old apparitions who will always nest cuddled within the tepid folds that line the crown of malayan trees. we live by the calendar of daily rain, dusk and mists...led by cicada song, turquoise hues and jungled rivers that tempt the soul with quiet, we pause in the weary centre of existence and find heaviness fogged into oblivion.

Unknown to us, there are moments

When crevices we cannot see open

For time to come alive with beginning...

when breeze becomes gold in a day.

Delighted to be so high

Above the lives where we dwell,

Together for a while

From the other sides of the world,

Sensing each other...

The echoes take us

To the heart of the mountains.

When the silence closes,

You say, Now that they

Have called our names back

The mountains can

Never forget us.

adapted: john o'donohue's conamara blues

weakness

The swiftest things are the softest things. A bird is active because a bird is soft. A stone is helpless, because a stone is hard. The stone must by its own nature go downwards, because hardness is weakness. A bird can of its nature go upwards, because fragility is force.

G K Chesterton

post a-levels. note. sms

she had a D for GP. and still texted this to me...such a gift, i never expect to find. it brings tears to a teacher's eyes. the grade has long ceased to matter. the gratitude, now... from me... toward her...will last a lifetime. many senior teachers who have taught in a variety of JCs will share that these are the rare attributes that students from so-called 'lesser-known' JCs are known to possess. perhaps, many still tend to define a person's self-worth based on their academic calibre as marked by their status as 'top scorers' and their premium grades. ours' will always be an exam-oriented society.

i am but one of the many privileged and humbled teachers to have received this blessing from students like her..whose heart and humanity are worth more than many stars and distinctions that others may only take for granted.

in texting this note, she has said more about herself than about me...beyond any grade, her words will keep many teachers strong on the desert journeys ahead...

thank u too...mk


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hi mr koh...i'm mk...Just want to say thank you- thank you for your advices and encouragements during that period of time (not many people believed in me, which made me unable to belief in myself even more.) You saved a girl that was drowning... Forgive me if there's any grammar mistakes. thank you :)


frankly, i used to be so scared of you when you first taught (our class). Now, you are the teacher i want to thank most.


xie xie ni ah (in chinese)

this will pass

Suffering passes. Having suffered never passes.
Charles Peguy

beyond all grades: an open letter on results day

the annual cycle came again...the tug of feelings between cloudy apprehension and bright anticipation over my students' a-level results. as always, i played mind-games on myself and expected the worst, if not, below-average modest grades...not that i believed any less in them. it is rather, a quiet safeguard over my own ego and the muted confidence it (sometimes) bears.

it turned out better than expected...humbling, to say the least...the moral hollars and wrangling hands made sense after all, to them. plus the videos, the learning journeys, the boring lessons on summary-writing, paragraph sense & AQ, vocab cues, essays (PRSM)2E3, MATRIX, P-G...shucks...whatever.......every single stake we put into a subject which to me, must amount to more than mere grammar and a step beyond varsity gates.


Lord, i thank you for the grace you gave to see them through...the habits of heart and mind that you helped me to cultivate in all of them, and even in myself. even though a few chose to walk away, many chose to stay and we all help each other to keep the faith...that each will do their best, simply their best and all that, is enough, for me...


one class went beyond all expectations and emerged the one with the top quality scores. others outperformed their very tragic prelim grades. many simply gave their best.
they gave their best...
given their best;
and that is sufficient for me...

it was perhaps the best affirmation they could give to each other and myself. the long hours of marking, reprimanding, exhortations and near-defeat...all gave way to inner strength, stubborn hope and quiet faith. trusting that all shall be well.


to class of 2006...so3, s11, s22...(my first ever triple load of graduating sci classes!)...do take a day or two, like i said, to let the feelings settle down and all pressured thoughts of better grades and higher scores wash away. many of you wanted to do better. others felt they have disappointed themselves. many more are contented and are ready for the journeys ahead...i still stare at the more than 'mere passing grades' & look back in gratitude & wonder...i also hold gently to your 'thank-yous' and kept them in my heart...



...just then, the ego slips away and disappears...and i find again, my own poisonous self-esteem built on their grades. that too, i must set free.

in its place, a pure and perfect intention is found; somewhat cloaked in obscurity, but well-cast in peace and silence...for you have placed me among them...and have led me to a place that is free.

Beyond GP, beyond national percentiles, today's As, Bs, Cs and the like...remembering the names of students i've taught and right to their heart which they bear. and Lord, i bless your children, my students...for their effort of heart and the goodwill and love that disarms every gradient, score and expectation bent...a simple grace of knowing...the dispassion, the dispossession...a secret empty feeling...your very gift which sets me free...
'But time will pass and so will
most of what we know...

Weary of this world,



we split as seeds and sink


into soil...

some flowers will bloom in a different way...

Be still when the earth is silent

and sing when our strength is gone...

the land is empty once again...

so strange now

our seed lives...

thomas merton (adapted)

nothing & everything

Past the seeker as he prayed came the crippled and the begger and the beaten. And seeing them, the holy one went down toto a deep prayer and cried, ‘Great God, how is it that a loving Creator can see such things and yet do nothing about them?’



And out of the long silence, God said,

‘I did do something.

I made you.’

Sufi Parable