we can no longer tell the difference between the cool jade of forest leaves and the warm odour of sun melting sleeves, socks and boots.
the ground stings with over-heated grass. we can only stretch eyes this far, attain some luck in stumbling, or succumbing to the rising spells of emerald heat.
and there is fear of sundown...
our dreams morph
into sharpened ferns, chanting fields and
a moss of creatures creeping
to make sick these fantasies whispered
on our congealed beds of sweat raw chlorophyll...
the tale of the dead soldier lying beyond the night marsh - he waits to join us again,
complete his final march.
* * * *** ***
my buddy treks behind me. the day will not make him disappear. his wet pores and clenched fists secrete a secret will
to drag our bodies forth to base camp.
never to arrive, our desires liquify, blessing the ground of our sacrifice.
picture courtesy of xiangxuan's account of ocs in facebook
heartspace. i joined this community sometime last year, wanting to devote more time to ecology (i got my zoo posting!) and art to balance life & work. we meet on sat mornings. begin with sharing and close with a prayer, sometimes through song, a line from scripture or just begin a day framed in silence. and then we disperse into our own corners and pick materials of our choice. the hours pass in a simple play of colours. are allowed to experiment with any medium we wish; acrylic, crayon, clay, chinese brush, charcoal...anything that helps our heart to speak. when all is done, we place our works (in progress), sit back, distance ourselves from our pieces and comment on each others' works. there is no judgement. no appraisal. no grading. just (he)art speaking to (he)art, trusting the Spirit to guide us. over here, i find courage to exorcise an old burden and rechart other undiscovered lands. i remember failing art for o-levels and labelled myself as a failure in that field for so many years. i never picked it up again until i joined heartspace. and these are the works i still create...the first piece was done in less than 2 minutes...a hurried attempt not to waste ink...i ceased the need to control. and spontaneity led to its genesis. for the second piece...i did not know the painting could be inverted (without losing its coherence) until another member told me so! 7 months lapsed between the 2 pieces i drew. the same blue tree appeared and inked the link between them. i still do not know what the blue tree said.
others resurrect a memory or loved one who went away. some portraits emerge from the dark terrain of searching and prayer, to reclaim a lost promise you once held with open hands.
you don't come here wanting to be an artist. you come- open, wanting to understand the process of becoming yourself again. though many members happen to be christian, we also welcome persons from other faiths as well. one of our members happens to be a buddhist who brings a different reading of life in her sharing. i guess we don't always have a ready answer or reason for everything we draw. and it is ok to feel that way.
the same for life, wonder, love, pain, dreams and mystery. we don't always know their origins or haunting appeal to our spirit and psyche. but we chase, run away or experience them anyway...our need to be human is a gift we long to behold and re-create.
i lost my keypouch last saturday evening. 3 keys to my personal drawers, an mart card loaded with $30 credit and $70. pouch was a gift from my sister last christmas and it smelled great in leather. i wrote my personal particulars on the card and pouch. any literate person would know how to return it. i woke early, took a bus and retraced my steps along shunfu road the next day. also alerted citicab, cold storage novena square and my friend for any possible trace or accidental recovery, just in case, in his place. still no news at this point of writing.
the following statements record the process of rationalisation that occurred within the week. so much for claiming to know myself so well.
Response A: i will try to ride on the spiritual assurance of a friend. she would pray. i too must pray. then i should trust God and await the miraculous appearence of my lost item. nothing lost, nothing broken- bible passage quoted in detail. Response B: what if God answers 'no' in response? no further help for me. pouch does not appear. and never will. should i then lose my petty faith in God and trust him less?
Response C: believe it probably went to someone in greater need than me... maybe a poor family found it and decided to use it. mmmm..the amount would sustain their transport and daily needs for the next 2 weeks.
Response D:. still there is no need for them to do that, right? why can't they just take the card and money and return the rest to some police post? they could even call me and 'pretend' to be a good samaritan instead?
Response E:. why is God like that? why can't he even fulfil a simple prayer like this? Response F: the economic crisis has hit alot of people. others have also lost a life, their loved ones or their jobs. what is a missing key pouch compared to other kinds of loss that people are facing? let go. com'on be grateful you even have a stable job in these hard times.
Response G: tsk....just be more alert next time, k? lesson learnt?
Response H: well, better to lose a key pouch and some cash than the handphone, an entire wallet (packed with ic, credit cards etc etc) or a passport! i am darn lucky coz it could have been worse! there are other losses to come in life. one former student comforted me by claiming that one lost item hints of better tidings to come in one's life.
it is a tough 'act' trying to look on the bright side, to trust God (still) and not get overly entangled over the secular streak that is entwined within. i am quite a contradiction in terms- a social sceptic and spiritual optimist at the same time.
this is a simple birthday song that carries much meaning for me. thanks to all who dropped notes everywhere in virtual, electronic and physical space to wish and celebrate with me. have always wanted to compile photographs from birth to now, just to establish an existential cope to the ways i've been, struggled and grown. i will do this by year-end(?)... am still be-coming...be-holding what this one life may mean for others and me. maybe a line or two from cormay's song may also light a path inside your heart as you celebrate your own birthday sometime this year, even if it had just passed. ___________________________________________________________
"When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; When i became an adult, I put aside childish things... ...In the same way, we see now, indistinctly, as in a mirror. But someday, we are going to see God in his completeness, face to face. At present, I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known..."
1 corith: 13: 11- 12 Have asked that these words (esp verse 12) be engraved on my stone the day i leave earth for heaven. Birthdays help me remember my origin, my beginnings and my end. In between are many slips, detours, quiet peaks and rich valleys that have marked one life with many lessons, much wisdom and alot of beauty. Thanks to all for being a part of my life...i've also come this far because of you. Am grateful we share this one life together, our lifetime, our grace to be.
am here every month on sat or sunday. i fulfil part of my childhood and undergrad dream- to study more about and handle live animals in a life-giving way... practise a little bit of zoology which i failed to take during my uni days. that's a malayan stick insect. similar to the ones found in undisturbed forests over here. i get alot of fun getting visitors to spot them on the branch display. my guests register a childlike delight when they are able to identify these masters of disguise brought out for interaction and display. that's my favourite queensland titan, found only in australia. harmless and defenceless, it rears its abdomen like a scorpion if disturbed. visitors hazard a good guess all the time. and the brave ones move on to put them on their shirts, caps or face. some adults squeal away but their children become their teachers on that appointed hour or so, they claim. i spend these sundays unpacking the lore that hides in forest songs. we master terms like dimorphism, mimicry, parthenogenesis. live and play witness to the kid, tickling in us all.
i grew up with emblems related to most things chinese. every lunar new year brings its cache of auspicious sayings, with its vast semantic fields that draw material associations like wealth, prosperity, luck, credit, cash and all things gold and red to our elusive search for happiness. the chinese appear to speak an embroidered language that is deeply couched with meaning. phonetically, this allows speakers to acknowledge hierarchies of rank and file, intent and idea into lettered phrases that may be spoken elegantly in a line or two. i used to resist the link; that one can be happy simply by receiving an endless accumulation of wealth. i was at one stage, critical of what i perceive to be the 'materialistic' foundations / 'philosophical assumptions' of the chinese way of defining 'goodwill' or 'lunar new year culture.' today, inverted commas mark the terms that sweep this entry. i am careful to bracket them as a way of confronting the relativity of such values inherited over the years. still, money isn't everything. i rather wish for good health, first- for myself, loved ones and friends so that we may continue to reflect and share generosity & goodness with those that come our way. of course, there will be moments when we would rather invest some of that on our personal search for happiness, be it temporal or eternal. it brought to mind a text i read in uni; keith basso's Wisdom Sits In Places. an anthropologist who specialises in culture and linguistics, basso looked deep into the oral traditions. he identified deep structures in the language spoken by western apache indians and grew to understand their basis for naming places and using soundscapes or personal narratives to infuse spiritual or aspirational content on their own material spheres. i guess material preoccupations have their place in most cultures. my race's depicted obsession with wealth (painted in homes, on streets and sewn on attire)is perhaps a fuzzy reflection of our own kindled pursuit of contentment and security. we word and speak our best intents, then press into colour the deep tidings we fail to grasp with our hands...
common fruit bat / Cynopterus brachyotis like colugos, bats are also mammals. however, they are fully capable of flight. other characteristics include
-Fox-like face, protruding jaw -Short to non-existent tail -Normal to large, dark eyes -Ears are fully enclosed at the base -Hair varies in thickness; generally short and fuzzy; front part of head, outer parts of limbs and wing membrane are generally bald. -Skin is brownish with variation in hue and intensity -Wings are usually dark with spotted patterns -Teeth are generally 34 in number and do not fully close; the back molars are flat and wide and used for crushing soft fruits -Long and agile tongue -Hands have a small claw on the second fingers which are useful in ripping open fruits; this is a distinguishing factor between Fruit and Insectivorous Bats
colugo / Malayan flying lemur- Cynocephalus variegatus The term is a misnomer as colugos are not lemurs. neither do they fly. rather, they glide using their skin membranes. they have more fur than bats. they make use of their underside membranes to catch wind currents as they travel from tree to tree. this calls for incredible tact, a superior sense of approximation, judgement and availablility of wind currents to take them across distances. the one i saw happened to glide across a packed expressway- to the other far side of the road!
7am. 21 jan. 2009. i was onboard 157 heading to college. it was crawling it way along lornie road. the empty lanes soon giving way to a sea of damp lights on either lanes. and the march of cars piling towards the city dawn. my bus paused at the bus-stop just opposite caldecott hill. i saw it. something flew across the road just beyond my double-decked window...close to 400m away. it soared (glided?) above the peak traffic that was heading west. i thought it might be another sea-eagle or a hawk that strayed off its flightpath. and then, it gracefully latched onto a tree just beside a bus-stop.
and goodness me...it was a fairly large colugo indeed. i wasn't fast enough to take a snapshot with my phone-camera. but i stopped breathing, seriously.
that rare gem glided right above the traffic. what led it so near the edge of urban life? a nocturnal mammal, was it returning to its favourite tree, to nestle for the day ahead? it struck me that its home locale was ironically close to the very forces that seek to diminish its habitat & range.
one of singapore's rarest mammals, did the colugo also learn to adapt amid the noise and sprawl that pierce uncomfortably close to its forest home? we assume its numbers would decline or even become extinct altogether. our predictions may not be valid afterall.
my morning was broken bright with a colugo in flight. i feel canonized. my secret sight scores high on a scale of ten on ten. just an ordinary thursday on a humble bus to school, just feeling, all glowing, most blessed...
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
ee cummings that's a very raw setup of my new cubicle. i kept it neat this time. but since i cannot stand blank spaces and white walls, i picked the pictures that mean most to me on this journey to bring some colour and poetry to my new working life; i wanted to remember the classes that left more than a mere impression...their gratitude and joy that helped me to uncover and share my own. yes, students, people and classes come and go. still, one batch or two and sometimes more than a handful inspire us to remember them for life. hopefully, our capacity to remember people, and celebrate moments will not just be applicable to teachers and students. there is alot more to life beyond the classroom- the friends that shelter us, the families that fed us and even travellers or strangers who make a brief transit in our lives, forgetting they have left an echo of their heartsongs behind.
I like Buechner's definition of the term:
Remember: when you remmeber me, it means you have carried something of who i am with you, that i must have left some mark of who i am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we ever meet again, you will know me. It means that even after i die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. For as long as you remember me, i am never entirely lost. When i am feeling most ghost-like, it's your remembering me that helps remind me that i actually exist. When i'm feeling sad, it's my consolation. When i'm feeling happy, it's part of the way i feel.
If you forget me, one of the ways i remember who i am will be gone. If you forget me, part of who i am will be gone.
"Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom," the good thief says said from his cross (Luke 23.42).
There are perhaps no more human words in all of Scripture, no prayer we can pray so well.
elaine wanted this to be read during her memorial mass...her brother kk, sent it to me. i recalled my own visits to the lawn cemetery at choa chu kang. the lessons learnt, the reflections gained, and of life that is found again- Remember...
I will still be here As long as you hold me In your memory I am the one star That keeps burning so brightly It is the last light to fade into the rising sun I’m with you whenever you tell my story For I am all I’ve done Remember when you’re out walking When the snow falls high outside your door Late at night when you’re not sleeping And moonlight falls across your floor I am that one voice In the cold wind that whispers if you listen You’ll hear me call across the sky As long as I still can reach out and touch you Then I will never die
"Breathing the air of a world so new, almost alarming in rawness and temptation, never failed to invigorate him. Once beyond the warm glow of the bay, he saw forests untouched since Noah, shorelines beautiful enough to bring tears, wild food for the taking..." toni morrison: a mercy
some of my colleagues who left college with me are embarking on fresh career paths of their own. morrison's excerpt brings to mind the decisions we made. i think of them often, colleagues who have over time become the friends i will and do miss. i wonder what vistas await us, how we will go about establishing a safe and free space to grow, as we express our desire to craft richer visions to life.
i prayed by my bed last night, and asked to receive confidence, joy and wisdom on my own journey, sustained by a steadfast spirit and the single direction born from the heart. i will like us to share this deep and simple grace in the different communities we may find ourselves in.
by rainer maria rilke: letters on life
'we make our way through everything like thread passing through fabric; giving shape to images we ourselves do not know...'
the skies offer their blue concourse of stars. make a wish...it's here, all there for the asking, in face of solitude and anxiety that new beginnings bring.
and shorewaves gather sand grains from foam. the bare humble feet heading on a long walk on a trail wind through the heart of a year
A father with a scarf over her head hoists his 6 year old up on the first step of the school bus. "Good-bye," he says.
A mother on the phone with her first year college son has just bawling him out for his first grades. There is mostly silence at the other end of the line. "Well, good-bye, " the mother says.
When the teacher at the airport hears the announcement that his plane is starting to board, he turns to his class who is seeing him off. "I guess this is good-bye," he says.
The noise of the traffic almost drowns out the sound of the word, but the shape of it lingers on the old man's lips. He tries to look vigorous and resourceful as he holds out his hand to the other old man. "Good-bye." This time, they say it so nearly in unison that it makes them both smile.
It was a long time ago that the words God be with you disappeared into the word Good-bye, but every now and again, some trace of them still glimmers through.
TEARS
You never know what may cause them. The sight of the Atlantic Ocean can do it, or a piece of music, or a face you've never seen before. A pair of somebody's old shoes can do it. A horse cantering across the meadow at sundown. Almost any movie made before the great sadness that came over the world after the World War Two. The finale of a campfire or the end of a hard-won match. The final cheer given by your students surrounding you. Their simple song, and their last words of dedication. You can never be sure. But of this, you can be sure. Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention...
thank you pioneer... adapted from f. buechner: whistling in the dark
No man reaches when the moon touches a woman. Even the moon leaves her when she opens Deeper into the ripple in her womb That encircles dark to become flesh and bone.
Someone is coming ashore inside her. A face deciphers itself from water And she curves around the gathering wave, Opening to offer the life it craves.
In a corner stall of pilgrim strangers, She falls and heaves, holding a tide of tears. A red wire of pain feeds through every vein Until night unweaves and the child reaches dawn.
Outside each other now, she sees him first. Flesh of her flesh, her dreamt son safe on earth.
i offer the names and lives of all in need of your care this christmas, Lord. m, my friend, who struggles with her husband and family to care for their baby who cries in uncertain anguish in pain brought by cerebral palsy. another friend who has willed to love his father who lives daily with cancer. c, who is disappointed in not being able to conceive, her past haunting her newfound hope in you. still, i remember in faith the rest whose lives you delivered from harm with our prayers and brought relief and trust in their own time of dark tidings.
what does it mean for you, God to become Man? what does your own poverty reveal about the anguish we face? Lord, give us grace to see intimately, your place in our pain and suffering. Lord, may your humanity and providence bring deep peace and needed relief to the lives of your people who labour in tears to understand this imperfection, this mystery.
a song i would want to be played at the end of life...(my funeral in fact)...speaks for a space so wide it encompasses much of a journey i've shared and lived. a song sung for soldiers, teachers, friends, sons and fathers...here's a rare clip from fogelberg's concert. in a time when sophisticated remix and innovative music studios influence the making of music and 'britney-tunes' become a popular and forgettable fad, these bare compositions of soul withstand the test of time and continue to find anchor in other lives.
LEADER OF THE BAND by dan fogelberg
An only child Alone and wild A cabinet makers son His hands were meant For different work And his heart was known To none -- He left his home And went his lone And solitary way And he gave to me A gift I know I never Can repay
A quiet man of music Denied a simpler fate He tried to be a soldier once But his music wouldnt wait He earned his love Through discipline A thundering, velvet hand His gentle means of sculpting souls Took me years to understand.
The leader of the band is tired And his eyes are growing old But his blood runs through My instrument And his song is in my soul -- My life has been a poor attempt To imitate the man Im just a living legacy To the leader of the band.
My brothers lives were Different For they heard another call One went to chicago And the other to st. paul And Im in colorado When Im not in some hotel Living out this life Ive chose And come to know so well.
I thank you for the music And your stories of the road I thank you for the freedom When it came my time to go -- I thank you for the kindness And the times when you got tough And, pap, I dont think i Said i love you near enough --
The leader of the band is tired And his eyes are growing old But his blood runs through My instrument And his song is in my soul -- My life has been a poor attempt To imitate the man Im just a living legacy To the leader of the band I am the living legacy To the leader of the band.
the rare theme song from the tv series 'beauty and the beast', first sung in 1987... retrieved, after years of seeking, thanks to utube. the lines from one of my favourite poems by ee cummings are interspersed within the lyrics; sensing rain in a land of risk, trust and grief. the rich uncertainty of humanity taken afar by loss, and restored by love.
the same song is used to accompany a fitting & sensitive montage from Disney's cartoon version...
we organised a memorial service for you this evening. your friends from afar joined us to remember the life you shared with us. your brother and mother flew in today from east malaysia. mom wept, her grief heavy & distraught, deepened with every thought of you. your brother shared the last stages of your journey with cancer. it came so suddenly. you left without us knowing. you kept faith till the end.
elaine, here was a simple service you wanted; we picked your favourite hymns-anthony on the keyboard, dennis with guitar and viktor with violin. kk shared your life in a eulogy. among your friends and family were buddhists, free-thinkers, presbyterians, methodists. it didn't matter...the chapel bore the loss and silence. we prayed with our Lord to support your brother and mother who still mourn for you. may your eternal rest in Christ give courage, comfort us on our journey home. till we meet again...
with love from 5th canticle choir st mary of the angels
O GOD YOU SEARCH ME
O God, you search me and you know me. All my thoughts lie open to your gaze. When I walk or lie down you are before me: Ever the maker and keeper of my days.
You know my resting and my rising. You discern my purpose from afar, And with love everlasting you besiege me: In every moment of life or death, you are.
Before a word is on my tongue, Lord You have known its meaning through and through, You are with me beyond my understanding. God of my present, my past and future too.
Although your spirit is upon me, Still i search for shelter from your light. There is nowhere on earth i can escape you. Even the darkness is radiant in your sight.
For you created me and shaped me, Gave me life within my mother's womb. For the wonder of who I am I praise you: Safe in your hands, all creation is made new.
Christmas...Cristesmessa -Festival of Christ-old english derivative- God becoming Man. God chose to be born of a Woman. The same God who chose a simple poor person to bear Him amid the squalor and shame of pre-marital birth. may the same canticle reach the lives of people everywhere who struggle with abandonment, confusion and possible loss on their journey this time of the year.
Cast from afar before the stones were born And rain had rinsed the darkess for colour, The words have waited for the hunger in her To become the silence where they could form.
The day's last light frames her by the window, A young woman with distance in her gaze, She could never imagine the surprise That is hovering over her life now.
The sentence awakens like a raven, Fluttering the dark, opening her heart To nest the voice that first whispered the earth From dream into wind, stone, sky and ocean.
She offers to mother the shadow's child; Her untouched life becoming wild inside.
