Of poverty, books & parenthood

We are a product of our upbringing. I am my father’s daughter, and here’s a little window into what makes me.

I have a rather large family - there’s six of us - my parents and three other siblings. In order to raise a large family, my middle-income parents worked extremely to put us all through school.

We didn’t have much luxuries growing up - we ate simply, seldom in restaurants, never had a family vacation, never had my parents buy us toys or new clothes for the new year. All we had was food in the table, miserly pennies for food in school, and hand-me-down clothes from our older cousins. But if there’s one thing in abundance in the house - it was books. Books were the only thing my father would invest in. He strongly believed in education as the only vehicle for upward mobility. I remembered him asking me one day if I would like to own a set of LIFE Encyclopedia. Back in the 1980s, that series of encyclopedia was a huge deal. Having developed a love for books and reading in me since I was little, I of course said yes. I didn’t think he was serious when he asked me for my opinion if he should purchase the whole set from my cousin, at a used rate. But he was. He negotiated the price and bought it for a hefty thousand dollars (a brand new set cost $2,000).

I was both thrilled and confused. Thrilled at having a whole collection of what I thought then to be a window into the world - I could learn anything and everything, from that huge volume of encyclopedia - at my disposal, for my reading at my whim and desire. Confused that my highly-thrifty dad would splurge a thousand dollars on a set of encyclopedia on his 10-year-old daughter. It baffled my young mind.

Now more than 20 years later, I’m testament that my father’s investment in our education has paid off. I had a rather long career in law, not as a lawyer, but as a legal assistant, as I couldn’t tolerate the academia and what seemed a dry and monotonous routine of a practicing lawyer. I also had my fair share of fun as an audio editor and a creative writer and researcher producing documentaries for big-time broadcasters including Nat Geo, Discovery, Lonely Planet and the History Channel. I’m not earning millions right now, but the foundation in education that he gave me through instilling a love for books and knowledge in me helped to shape my destiny today.

For all of his imperfection and extremely stern upbringing where I was repeatedly caned till I was 17, I appreciate all that he did, in his best capacity as the head of the household, the man in the family, the leader of the tribe and a father to a bunch of very obstinate children.

Having grown up in a rather impoverished household with only our bare necessities provided for by our sacrificial and hard working parents (they often had two jobs each), up till today, I struggle to break free from the gripping mentality that I don’t have enough and I should always measure the value of the things I spend on. Every time I stand at the counter prior to a purchase, my eyes would be scanning the figures while my mind would be churning and clicking numbers to give me an evaluation of whether item A or B would give me a better bang for my buck. And that’s the truth - that’s my purchasing decision - price versus my perceived value. It’s tiring to live like this, and I’m no prouder of it than I am to confess it now, but I do try, every time, to break free from that crippling poverty-limited mentality and to make a conscious paradigm shift on the concept of money and value. I’ve had several well-meaning friends who have observed that uncomfortable trait of mine concerning money, and many a times, when they jokingly poke at my extreme thriftiness, a cloud of shame would shadow me and I’d retreat into an invisible corner of self-reprimand, reminding myself to step out of that poverty hole and to learn to practice generosity. I try, and still am trying, so my friends, please be patient with me. My husband, who fortunately grew up in higher middle income family, has been key in helping me to take baby steps out of my poverty-stricken past into a life-giving lifestyle.

We live and we learn. In documenting my struggles, I’m coming face-to-face with my weaknesses, shedding light on them and with direction, support, and conscious decision, I can only get better.  

Paying It Forward: Duty to Help

I was 11 and walking home from tuition class a couple of streets from home. A man in a nice Volvo drove slowly and pulled up next to me, asking me for directions. I knew the area well, and gave him simple directions to get there. He wasn’t sure he caught my directions right, and asked if I would step into the car to bring him to his destination, which was probably less than a mile away.

Something seized up on the inside of me, I summoned an annoyed look and firmly said ‘No’. He caught the signal, knew I wasn’t a simple-minded damsel, thanked me, and drove off.

I walked home, relieved, while replaying the horror of what could have happened had I been naive and eager to be helpful and stepped into his car.

Getting into a stranger’s car or hitchhiking presents the same possibility of danger - my parents made sure to drill it into us children’s thick skulls to never, ever accept rides from strangers. Little did I think I’d neglect my parents’ warning in my moment of desperation two days ago when I got lost and separated from my friend on a 100-mile bike ride in a county I was totally unfamiliar with. To make matter worse, I was tired, thirsty, hungry, and depleted every ounce of energy to ride any further, and had no cell phone or means of communication to reach my friends.

Despite my frantic wave for help on the side of a busy road, I watched with dismay as one after another driver in fancy cars zoomed past me, ignoring my plight. As I grew more weary and dejected, my desperation got the better of me and I resorted to stepping in the middle of the road so oncoming cars had no option but to stop for me. It worked.

A driver stopped her car and waved her hands - she thought I wanted to cross the road and was waving for me to do so; but no, I wasn’t looking to cross the road - I wanted her to stop in her tracks to help me. I needed help and was going to get it, by hook or by crook.

Thankfully it was a female driver - I would have been a little more wary and considered alternative options if it was a male driver. She got off her car, immediately introduced herself as a home nurse (and was indeed dressed in working nurse’s clothes, plus I saw large boxes of medical equipment in her car, so I was assured that she was honest and that I could trust her) and proceeded to help me in more ways than I could ever repay her for. She lent me her phone to call my husband, drove in circles in the area as I wasn’t sure where exactly my friends were, finally, after much searching and driving over 20 miles, she brought me safely to my very worried friends.

For all of her trouble and kindness, she expected nothing in return, only that I pay the kindness forward to someone, anyone who needed help in future. I told her I would do so.

Yesterday, on the way to a lunch appointment, I saw a boy with his bike lying by the side of the road, with what looked like a dented wheel.

Something screamed on the inside of me to “pay it forward” as I promised to.

But I deliberated. I didn’t jump at the opportunity to pay it forward as eagerly as I promised my benefactor two days ago.

Still driving and approaching the traffic junction where I could see the boy by the side of the road, I studied the situation intently: he was sitting upright - which meant that he was not injured. He was making a phone call - which meant that help was on the way. His bike didn’t look expensive - it probably wouldn’t be costly to replace the damage. It was a busy intersection - someone else would stop to help.

Plus, if I had stopped to help the boy, I would be extremely late for my appointment, besides, I would have inconvenienced my friend who drove out to meet me for lunch. Do I tell her hey, a situation came up, it’s really late notice, but I’m sorry I have to postpone our appointment? I couldn’t bring myself to do that - perhaps I didn’t want to?

As I reflect on the two events (me receiving help, and me not reaching out to help), I wonder if I had been selfish and unreliable to prioritize my sense of duty to uphold an appointment with a friend, over a more overwhelming responsibility to help a boy in need?

Have I, in that situation, made an irresponsible decision, or, demonstrated an omission to help and pay a kindness forward?

How often are we presented with opportunities to do good, and fail to act on that opportunity, because of seemingly more important priorities? In this age of abundant options, have we gotten our priorities and sense of responsibilities wrong?

Work & Play

Reflecting on the highly controversial book by Amy Chua, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, and looking back on my personal upbringing, I must say I've been incredibly fortunate to have my dad made me do things for my good which I didn’t particularly dislike, like working on English, Math and Science assessment books on top of my piling homework in school; but the key thing was, he afforded me balance in work and play. When I would come home from school and start on my homework and assessment books after lunch right through till evening time, at 6pm typically, he would say, “Enough homework now, go out and play, because all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

For that I am extremely thankful, because that value never left me - I don’t push myself to hard work to the point of collapse or burnout - each day is made up of a nice balance between work and play.

Work, to me, apart from paid assignments, is anything that advances my personal development, which, in future, may result in a paid assignment. Like researching, reading, networking, writing, strategizing.

Play, to me, is anything that evokes relaxation and a feeling of non-pressure. Like my sports training, watching movies, having a meal with my loved ones and friends, cracking nuts over the fireplace, having freshly cut fruits and chatting.

If I were to isolate work to solely income-generating types, I would be highly discouraged because I am a work in progress and every little activity I take, in reading, researching, networking, etc, are eventually helping me to get to a point where I would be valued and paid for my contribution in my field of expertise.

Sounds obscure? Totally. Who can look into the future and know exactly what's in store? We plan, strategize and take steps *there. But even we aren't certain if our steps will lead us *there. But while the future is uncertain, one thing I'm certain of - the future's not dark - it's bright - and simply with that guiding light, I'm walking in and ahead.

*there = that aha point in the future where we proclaim and acknowledge, "we've arrived/accomplished"

My Stars

When I was little, I used to hear of inspirational men and women who reached the pinnacle of success in their chosen field or sport, and used to be so warmed up in my heart I saw stars and dreamt of attaining such greatness myself, one day. But I never knew how, and by what manner I'd accomplish that.

But now I know. As clear to me as these words I'm writing and you're reading, I know exactly what my stars are and I know they know me in return, and have been calling me from that young tender age when I didn't know any better or saw any clearer.

My stars came into my universe, not on my doing. They came because it is meant to be so, and though the passage of time they travelled to get to me was a long and windy one, they came nonetheless, neither too late nor too obscure.

They come clear and strong, and takes me by surprise at their magnificence and dominance in my life right now.

Sometimes there's a voice that drives, a voice so strong it fuels a burning fire within to dig deeper, to stretch wider, to reach farther. That, is the voice of my stars.

My stars are mapping my destiny, and as long as I remain open each and every single day, to the voice, light and guidance of my stars, I'm on course to what I've dreamed of so many years ago as a little girl.

Your talent has far reaching effects

Meryl Streep may not know this, but the application of her talent in acting impacted me deeply in my relationship with my mom, after watching her stellar performance in the Oscar-winning movie, The Iron Lady, in a particularly moving scene where she longed for her son's visit and was painfully concealing her disappointment over the phone when he called to inform of his inability to visit.


As I watched, I felt the character's pain, so brilliantly brought forth by Meryl Streep, and finally understood my own mother's pain whenever she texted me asking when would I be visiting her and I'd procrastinate doing so because I was tired, busy or had seemingly more pressing matters at hand.


But seriously, what can be more important than the very one who gave me all she had, who made sure I had every chance of a proper shot in life, who endured daily sacrifices so my life would be better lived? I owe her this much - that I should honour her more than my own selfish intellect should have a say and demand its time and hold over me.


It takes an outsider, a stranger, for that matter of fact, to bring across such a pertinent point to me - that parents long for their children, more so in their old age, and it is our utmost responsibility and duty, to give of our time, money and resources to them who withheld nothing from us.


Lesson: Don't squander your talent, and don't underestimate your impact to others. Meryl Streep may not know what her talent did for me, but I'm thankful that she did what she does best, and in doing so, touched millions; my life, and my mother's, included.

The Fight of Life

How do we truly know what we want to achieve in life? We don't. We dream, aspire, plan, strategize; but we live one day at a time, take one step at a time, and along the way, realize that the path to our plans is often a surprisingly long and winding one; littered with potholes and road blocks, detours and off-roads, steep climbs and descends, misty low hanging clouds and penetrating sunshine.

And that's the beauty of life - that we don't just stroll through it - we fight for it.

And when we do, when we wake up every morning getting about the affairs and business of the day, this very act of obedience to the law of survival - that we have to work for what we need; and the law of nature - that we reap what we sow, by exchanging our time for money to trade in the economy of life for our daily survival and basic needs, and for many inspiring others, luxury wants; we progress mechanically but surely through the complexity of human chain, an essential link to the puzzle of our aspirations.

But what happens when we defy the laws of nature and attempt to escalate our growth process?

Unfortunately, for many a sad instances, we break free from the cycle, hanging vicariously by the thin thread of hope for a better future, only to fall into an abyss of uncertainty that surrounds, gropes and strangles our faintest light, and kicks us right back to where we began.

Yet for some, the courageous, the fighter, they dig deep into their beings, unleash the treasure within themselves, ad reveal gems that overcome the darkness.

Oh, that we may conquer, defeat and divide, as the latter warriors do - with utmost faith in an eternal truth that never fails - that your latter days shall be better than your former days; that you shall eat of the good of the land in the days of your living.

Reflections from San Francisco

3 week of brutal confrontation with the cold here in the Bay area, a fourth week of finally getting out on the roads, taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of California and making a merry lot of new friends, many of them decades older than I am; but way cooler, healthier and fitter.

It totally thrills me to see older men and women (in their 50s to 80s) keeping their fitness despite their age...

I see them working out at any odd hour in the gym, be it 5am, 12pm, 3pm or 5pm.

I see them riding on the roads, be it flats, steep climbs or death-defying, harrowing descends.

I see them happily married, working out together with their spouses in the gym or out riding on the roads.

What more can I say? It's incredibly heartening to behold such strength of the human body and soul, regardless of age. I am privileged, no, deeply privileged, to be where I am, doing what I do, seeing things I’ve never seen, learning things I never knew, experiencing culture and people that stretches my horizon out of a small square box I call ‘my mind’.

Sitting in an airplane

Sitting in a crowded airplane is like being huddled in a community. We’re in this together, whether we like it or not, whether we like each other or not. You may look different from me, hail from a different part of the world from me, behave differently; you may take up more space than I’m comfortable making room for you for, but then I’ll watch a couple of movies, slip into a quick nap at the boring bits, then slowly fall into a slumber, and by the time I’m awaken by the discomfort of sleeping in a semi-upright seat, I would have forgotten the discomfort at the start of the flight. Now, I just want to catch some reasonable rest, because I’m so very deprived of a solid one.

I see a red jacketed elderly woman walking up and down the aisle the couple of times my eyes open involuntarily, my arm brushed briefly by passengers or cabin crew squeezing along the narrow aisle. I try to avoid looking into my watch because whenever I do, I’m aghast to find that what seemed like a four-hour deep sleep turns out to be only an hour of flight time! Well, after a time or two of checking my watch, I grow accustom to this unnerving truth.

I walk to the lavatory and spot the red-jacked woman. She is working out her sore legs from the inundating hours of sitting.

“Good to stretch a little, isn’t it?” I quip.

She smiles and nods. And we get a conversation in Mandarin going.

Originating from Guangdong in southeastern China, she moved to San Francisco with her husband and four young children over 30 years ago. Her children are grown up now, she’s a grandmother of two, and babysits her own grandchildren as well as that of others for a small fee. I noticed how pleasant her breath smells – she was chewing gum! At over 60! Gracefully, she offered me one, which I gratefully took one in view of my bad breath from the hours of flight and incapable oral hygiene.

Back in my seat, I'm thinking - sitting in a filled-to-capacity airplane is like paying (big bucks!) and voluntarily surrendering to physical confinement, albeit in supposed style and luxury. But really, what luxury is there strapped in a 0.5 x 1m seat?

The issue I realize is space. Confinement to a small space limits, frustrates and retards any living being.

Take nature for example. I remember my dad, an ardent gardener by pure interest, used to tell me that we can grow a square watermelon, instead of a regular round one, simply by planting the seed and soil in a small square crate.

The Japanese koi, I was told, grows as large as the pond in which it is put in.

The coastal redwood trees in western California (the tallest living things on our planet) grow to an astounding 100m because they have so much land space horizontally and hey, the sky’s the limit, that’s why they grow so tall!

Humans, confined, either retard; or get creative - retard to immobility; or creative to break the limitation.

It’s easy to travel around the world these days; it’s hard not to do so for global expansion. Concord planes at the speed of lightning are not yet possible for regional and global commute, in view of its devastating destruction to the eco-system every time if zaps into the sky, thus we have to content to fly the planes we do today, flight times as short as an hour or as long as over 23 hours.

What do we do onboard a constrained space for over 10 hours averagely, when the freedom to move out of the 0.5 x 1m seat is further restricted by the reluctance to disturb the passenger next to us when we need to move out of our seat to get to the washroom or simply to walk down the aisle for a quick stretch for the legs?     

I realized that I enjoy multi tasking, especially when watching a movie. I experience a deep sense of joy when I’m not just sitting immobile in my seat and being sucked in the melodrama of whatever I’m watching, but to be actively engaging myself, either physically on an indoor bike trainer or mentally, writing in an airplane as I am now. I must be doing something right – at this very instant, a lady in her mid forties, from Guangzhou, sitting next to me in the middle section, who speaks very little English but extremely fluent in Cantonese, who keeps to herself, was marathon-watching movies on the in-flight entertainment and on her iPad, suddenly concluded her movies and started typing on her iPad. I take a quick glance. She’s typing some notes or journal of sorts. I smile. I’m glad to inspire you to turn the entertainment off and start writing, madam.

The sense of joy arises from the fact that I am being a good steward of the time entrusted to me, to make good and be fruitful, for the day is near.

---

For you movie buffs, here are 3 movies and a documentary I watched onboard Cathay Pacific Airways from Singapore to San Francisco:

Larry Crowne - starring Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts, about a man's quest for self progress after being laid off from his job - he enrolled in college, increased his knowledge and confidence, made good friends, and with his relentlessly good attitude, turned his life around.

Everything must go - starring funny man Will Ferrell as an down and out guy who lost his job and wife in one single day, stubbornly stuck to his guts, only to give in to his dead lock circumstances, learned to clean up his act (alcohol addiction) and move on.

Oranges and Sunshine - starring Emily Watson, who played the real life character of Margaret Humphreys, a a social worker in Great Britain who dug into the nationally covered-up child migrant scheme from Great Britain to Australia in the 1940s (over 140,000 children were deported to Australia in that period) and devoted her time to reuniting the children involved, now adults in Australia, to their parents still alive and living in Great Britain. My take from this true account is not to be afraid to dig for and confront the truth; and in doing so, you may be doing more for others than you ever think you could.

Page One: Inside the New York Times – a documentary that accesses The New York Times newsroom and exposes the inner workings of the media desk

Strapped Iron

What is life?

What is a life worth pursuing?

What is life, and life more abundantly?

Have I been sold by the idea of capitalism and strapped by its system?

The need to have more, if not the best. The need for distinguished branding, looking crisp and sharp, the need for prestige and status, the need to be noticed and looked upon with respect with the acquisition of wealth, status and power.

No, back track a little. Wealth, status and power come as a result of BEING IN the system, and playing by its game, its rules. The fastest, fittest, sly-est survive and climb to the top of the chain. As it is in the animal kingdom.

The beasts of the field - hunt for survival. Trees and plants - grow for survival.

People strive for achievement, fame, even for 15 minutes. What is the value after? The feel-good feeling lasts only a little while, but consider, does the time, effort and resources put into the achievement bring lasting value than mere fame and recognition that fleet as speedily as the whiff of the wind?

Schools are built for education. Sports are implemented to better the physical, mental and social well being of students.

But why are competition implemented? To test if the physical system and training work to make the human body achieve outstanding results in the midst of competition and pressure. And the reward for such time, effort and training is the medal. The feel-good feeling lasts for a moment on the podium, and after, with celebratory meals and salutary claps and slaps on the back. The medal that adorns the living room glass cabinet is looked upon from time to time while watching TV and its visible shine catches your eye. But the real deal is this - you know you are capable of more. You know that if you put your heart and soul into training for something, if you train under  the right coach, under the right circumstances, you can do better and achieve greater feats. You can break your own limits. You learn that nothing is ever achieved on your own accord. You learn that you need others to hep you in your pursuit - because we are born into a world made up of families, communities and societies. Just as it takes 2 individuals to produce another, it takes more than one person; it takes more than just you to make it out here on earth. But while here, don’t just work to survive. Work to live life. Work to enjoy all life has to offer. But do so, within your means. Do not buy into commercialism. Do not buy into systems that trap and enslave you. Always consider what moves you to a greater cause, take time to consider, reject and walk away from pure capitalism that distracts with the loudest sound horn of nothingness but pure financial gain for its creators. 


What lies beneath the Iron facade? 


The bottom line, in my humble opinion, should never be purely about money. The bottom line of any community and organization and system has to be about people. What makes the world go round isn’t money, but people. Yes, there is money to be made from people, with a smart system, but if money is the ultimate goal, the system is not sustainable and is likely to head for self destruction without a right motive to steer its course for sustainable growth.

Thus in my personal pursuit, if my motive is not right, if I’m not pursuing my Iron dream for people, I am merely a slave and tool of the system that has bought my soul, without paying me a single dime, but have me paying it lots in return. If I am not succeeding in touching lives, helping another, bettering someone else’s life through my pursuit, let me reconsider my next move.

Reflections on Germany & London

Why do we travel? For a number of reasons, one of which is to search for happiness.

Are we happy after our travels?
Sometimes we are, sometimes we're not. Sometimes we're elated at new experiences, sometimes we despair at bad encounters. Sometimes we find the joy contagious, sometimes we find the gloom a threat.

Why else do we travel? To see what's outside our box.

Do we see what we think we're missing? Sometimes.
Sometimes we're enlightened, sometimes we're disillusioned. Sometimes we're grateful for our good fortune, sometimes we envy the better well-being of others.

Why did I travel this time round? To race in IM in Germany and to reconnect with my sister in London.

And what have I learned from this trip? Lots. Below are some brief observations:

Every city has its beauty and flaws. London has its historical charm, but generally appears dark and grey with its old brick buildings and grimy streets. Munich, on the other hand, is covered with vast green farm land, trees, shrubs and the occasional flock of sheep grazing. The countryside of Munich is breathtakingly beautiful, and inspires afresh each time.



Yet, in every place, it ain't so much the physical manifestation of the geography & architecture that attract, but its people and culture that beckon a deep longing and etch a memory deeper than mere images in well-taken photographs.

I've spent too short a time, yet imprinted too deep a memory in both places, simply because of the people I've connected with, many of whom are strangers that turned into friends.

In somewhat a chronological order of my meeting them, here are the wonderful encounters I've had:

(1) A group of middle-aged cyclists from France, touring Germany on mountain bikes and heavy pannier bags. Cyclists in Europe are a dime and a dozen, but this group of French cyclists made an impression because they had very kind and friendly faces - in fact, if I may be permitted to say this without being stoned - I didn't find the Germans too friendly (at least not those I came across), so when a group of men and women in cycling attire and hardy bikes in the middle of a small German city (Regensburg) smiled at me, I smiled back and got a conversation going. In fact, I like them so much we took a photo together and I have one of the men as a friend on Facebook. Ah, the power of social media - connecting people across the globe. Simply awesome.


(2) An Israeli triathlete who has raced in Israman Eilat, ranked among one of the toughest long distance triathlons races, and IM Austria, before attempting his third in IM Regensburg. He did well - clocking just 12 hours in Regensburg.


(3) A French chef with a cheerful disposition who runs an all-day breakfast cafe in Regensburg with his long time friend, a lovely Spanish lady. A special mention of my chef friend, Marc Legras - he cheered me up when I walked into his cafe after completing my 3.8k swim and 180k bike ride, but disqualified from completing my 42k run, totally down and shattered - he sat down at my table with my husband and I, looked me in the eye and said: "It is better to lose a well fought battle than to win an easy one." An ardent rugby player and coach, Marc has an amazingly good heart - he runs a program that takes in children with attention deficit disorder and once a week, provides an outlet for these kids to channel their abundant energy by playing rugby and make some good friends in their team mates.


(4) A group of middle-aged German cyclists who handed me the news sports coverage of IM Regensburg (upon learning of my participation in the race) and posed for my camera on the train platform in Munich.


(5) An elderly woman sitting in an outdoor cafe all by herself at Tegernsee, a lake 46km southwest of Munich. I couldn't help but notice how alone she was, so I turned to her and gestured for her to come join us at our table. Despite her conversing only in German and we in English, we spent a lovely afternoon enjoying coffee, beer and cakes, relying on Google Translator to keep our conversation understandable. Marianne Behn is without kin - her husband has passed away and she has no children. Formerly a waitress, she is now retired and travels to vacation spots on the outskirts of Munich by train and bus. But that's as far as the travelling she has done - she has never flew on a plane before. I wished there and then I could put her on a plane and fly her to a destination of her desire - maybe Singapore, as she has never heard of Singapore until she met us.


(6) An Iraqi marine captain, Saud, on his way home after his job assignment across the Arabian Gulf, whom Jason and I conversed at length with while in transit in Dubai. His first hand account of the messy situation in Iraq and neighbouring Middle Eastern countries are sobering and a reminder to cherish the good and security we have in Singapore.

(7) Most of all, I'm missing the extreme kindness my Sis extended to Jason and I during our stay in her apartment in London - her extravagant hospitality and going the countless extra miles out of her way to ensure we are comfortable in every way. A special mention of thanks too to my brother-in-law who took leave, drove for hours and miles to fetch us from the airport, and forked an expensive city tour in our honor. I don't think I've felt more privileged than having an elder Sis who loves me this much. Indeed, there's no place like home, and no love like that of loved ones. I'm glad I focused my energy and attention at cherishing every single moment with my Sis and her family during our visit, and wish to be reunited sometime in the near future.


What more can I say? I’m just plain thankful for this amazing season in my life where I’ve had the ultimate privilege of preparing for a very tough race in Regensburg, and though I didn’t fare as well as I set my heart and soul to, I gained a lot more from the defeat than an easy victory; I’ve had the richest privilege of visiting Germany and partake of its splendid scenes, people and food and above all, I’ve had the most intimate, quality, bonding time with my dear family in London - I learn what it’s like to give, and give some more, because children make it all worthwhile.

I have... a vision

I want a vision that I can pursue my entire life; no brakes, no full stops.

I want a vision that I can lay my life on the line for, and having fought a good fight, I stand victorious, satisfied at steps taken closer.

A journey that I relish every moment of, and not desiring the finishing line to come close.

A vision that I wake up excited to every morning, and makes me see life differently - in bright HD colors and 3D intensity.

A vision that so sparkles in my eyes it jumps out at people I talk to and draw their interest and support for mine.

I want a vision equipped with hands and legs to touch many, to give flight to those crippled by their circumstances; a vision that benefits and better others while I move along mine.

I want a vision that keeps my progress in check; one that makes me put one foot in front of the other, and moves me forward every time.

Clothes maketh a man; humanity maketh a society

Where in the past families were poorer, hand-me-down clothes were treasured possessions fought for by siblings; in these modern days where new and fancy clothes are easily affordable, second-hand clothes are looked upon with disdain and to be quickly discarded.

I wonder if this speaks true only in better-to-do economies. What about under developed countries where basic necessities are still lacking?

It's so easy to replace convenience with economic wastage.

Or perhaps it's not economical to transport old clothes to under developed countries.

So why are we fixated with having everything new? Why the fixation with gloss and shine? Why do aesthetics appeal so much to the human eyes?

Our practices are a culmination of our cultural environment. Singapore, a small nation run on human resources and break neck speed progress, fixes her gaze at only one thing - to get ahead of all competition and be nothing but the best. It's people, regardless of citizens or foreign workers of the economy; are likewise, conditioned to be single minded in the pursuit for greatness; in the process of which, it is inevitable that secondary things get sidelined. Secondary things which are often values that make us human; values that are found only in the species called man. Values like compassion, humanity and kindred spirit.

Consider China. In its desperate attempt to grow exponentially to make up for the years of closed economy and catch up with the superpowers of the world today, how often do we read of unscrupulous acts of officials and businesses that strove for economic gains at the expense of general health, safety and compassion? To picture this graphically, imagine a sprinter that rudely shoves off his screaming and adoring fans lined at the side of the track, within touching distance of him, who clamors and tries to get a hold of him; the sprinter doesn't look back once. He surges on ahead and even if he has to trample on a member of the crowd that has fallen into his track, he will not stop, but continues sprinting forward - he cannot stop, because time will not stop for him. Such is China, India, and dare I say, our nation, if we lose sight and emphasis of our humanity.

Hard worker

Looking at her, I'm sure she will get somewhere someday. She may just be working in a bread shop toasting bread and serving them, but she does them brilliantly fast and well. I'm intrigued, watching her intent focus and speed on the job. A seemingly menial and low paying job to most of the office-working patrons in the financial line in this area, she may look insignificant, but her excellence in her work far outshines the mediocrity of it all.

Her name is Joyce (she wears a name tag), and she works at Toast Box at Plaza Singapura. Do drop by for breakfast if you're in the vicinity in the mornings, and tell me if you notice the most outstanding worker of them all in the shop.

Running places

Maybe, deep down, I feel that running might bring me places - across the Great Wall, the Gobi, the Sahara, the Copper Canyons. Maybe, just maybe. And that dream fuels my running everyday.

I'd always wanted to travel; to experience cross cultures. When a lack of finances deprived me from studying in Australia after high school, I held on to a dream that I would visit Australia still - somehow, though I didn't know how then. And sure enough I did, albeit 10 years later, on my honeymoon.

That's just one small example of how my achievements in life don't usually take the typical route, mostly due to financial depravation, but God is mightier than both my internal and external limitations. He has been gracious all these while; and even more so with each passing day. He makes me stronger as I wait, and eventually manifests His multi faceted way of doing things. Indeed, He's never late; He's right on time.

Of course, I haven't quite gotten acquainted to His timetable. Maybe that's because I like to know what and when to expect; while He's more relaxed than I am and unfazed by how desperate or impatient I am. He's cool while I'm not - I'm hot headed and am always wanting to get ahead of myself. It's time I trust Him a little more with my aspirations. Or much more. Or entirely. Because I'm sure what He has in store for me's gonna blow my mind. Simply because He's big and I'm in His plans.

Bigger, better, higher

I need something visual in my life, something that will remind me everyday of the gift of life that I've been generously dealt with. And that is why I write - to draw remembrance and gratitude for all I have, scars from points I've fallen and lessons learnt from them.

Love is the foundation from which dreams are built and visions take flight.

My God, being the magnificent Father that He is, decided that not only would He give me the best possible man to live an amazingly great, fulfilling and rich life; but also incredible support from his parents who love me like their own. With this enclave of an existence of life and destiny (from my God) and this rock solid foundation of love (from my husband and in laws), it has become impossible for me to live nonchalantly, not taking stock of what I do with my time, gifts, talents and abilities.

Discontent at non-progress rattles within my bones. I work, with a vision of expansion. I run, with a vision of position. I give, with a vision of mission. I live, simply with a vision of Him - and as long as I do, I keep dreaming bigger and stepping onto higher plains.

His legacy

As I sat sipping my coffee and munching my toast, with a pen in hand to write my usual morning reflections, I saw a middle-aged father walking in with his teenage daughter. He was dressed simply in a grey collared tee and dark blue berms, carrying a black backpack slung over one shoulder. She was in a bright pink top and white shorts. He ordered breakfast for his daughter and himself, and repeatedly turned over to check that he had ordered sufficient food - he wanted to ensure she had enough to eat. She had rice, while he merely had bread and coffee. They ate mostly silently, except for a few exchanges of animatedly-spoken Indonesian conversation.

The sight of them reminds me of my dad, and created a wishful longing for quality time and intimacy which has been missing from my life for over 10 years.

As I thought of him, I'm puzzled myself that I did not long for a similar intimacy with my mom. Though she played the crucial role of sacrifice in the family (my only recollection of her is just that - lots of hard work and sacrifice), there was almost no exhibit of intimacy, support and encouragement; no providence of knowledge and recreational fun. She was constantly labouring away, making sure there was money for household expenses, the children's education, and savings. There was never a moment of indulgence or luxury. Everything was spoken in terms of money saved. Growing up, she never told me she loved me, was proud of me and never indicated the need to spend time with me, to bond with me.

My dad, on the other hand, though an extremely hard, stern and ready-to-punish man, gave me what every child needed - love, support, encouragement, knowledge and recreation. His declaration of love and demonstration of fatherhood was never conventional - while maintaining a stoic and practical demeanour (at all times - he has never let up or changed, all through the years), he supported me in my love for language; brought me books (from relatives, having not enough money to buy them); encouraged me to read and write extensively; was a strict teacher at home to ensure my good grades; made me read the newspaper and watch the news at nine every night; prohibited me from watching drama serials which to him were a complete waste of time and uneducational; played with me; encouraged me to play with kids in the neighbourhood, saying all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy; brought me and my friends to places adults wouldn't usually bring their kids to - abandoned houses with drug addicts, seedy back lanes of red light districts - in an effort to teach me 'general knowledge' and expose me to the 'real' world.

For all of that, I am very grateful. He was very real, very human. He never tried too hard to become anything he wasn’t. And when I say he was a hard man, he really was. And still is. For all the fond memories he brought me, so many more were painful, for I endured excruciating beatings for my disobedient ways and constant rebellion. My sister was often privy to the display of my bloody wounds, now healed with time.

How very often I've tried to write about my mom, a woman far virtuous and gracious above any other I’ve known, but I have ended up writing about my dad instead. This is yet another instance, a true account of my life, even as I'm still searching for the right words to pen them all down and do justice to those whom I’ve not credited enough.