Village of Contentment

 TOPIC : Contentment

Have you ever been to some rural town in the middle of nowhere and observed how people there live their lives? Have you ever noticed how time seems to move proportionally slower the further you travel out of the city? Have you ever noticed people in these rural villages, hanging around seemingly doing nothing and wonder "Don't these people have anything to do? Isn't it a weekday?" 

A while ago, I spent  4 days sitting in a small town 2 hours drive out of Bangkok, and these are the questions I have been asking myself. 

It's always an eye opener for a city dweller like me, to go to rural places and observe how other people live life. It's not like I an unaware of them, or how they live. It's more that I am seeing it first hand how things are. While most times, we mentally note how rural life is, being there forces you to experience it in the flesh. And I must say, it makes a big impression on me. 

On of the things I always observe is this - rural foll are just as, if not more happy than people who live in the city. This despite the fact that you do not get Wifi coverage, 7 Eleven, Starbucks or shopping mall every few hundred meters like we do in the city. All the things that we think make life in the city such a great thing really don't count for much when you look at it closely. People in the village have simple road side huts instead of Starbucks.They ride motorbikes instead of fancy cars. They use payphones instead of iPhones. But they couldn't care less. It doesn't bother them the way it bothers us. 

They don't get swallowed into the pursuit of money, power, success or status the way we do. They seem so much more content in accepting their lot in life, doing the simple things they are in charge of - like working in the grocery store, or being the security guard or operating a simple road side hawker stall. The rest of us in the city often concern ourselves with the kind of house we live in, the car we drive, our career progression and most of all, we feel this need to be different from everybody else. We feel that we owe it to ourselves to make a difference in something, anything.

City folk live in state a of deficit. We feel the need to make up for loss ground, keep on par with others or simple excel in something before we pat ourselves in the back. We want to earn the merits, because we feel a person with no distinguishable merits is not worthy of praise. A person of value is a person with merits. 

The city is often the forefront of human civilization. New or old, all our knowledge of science, all our ideas of philosophy were born out of a city. We in the city are so focused on breaking new ground and exploring new frontiers that somewhere along the line, we have forgotten to be content with what we have right now.

To me, it's a simple lesson about contentment.

Something I think those of us living in the city would do well learning 

Lately...

Dear friend,

I am fine. Thank you for asking. I am sorry for not writing for so long. Things have kind of swept me by, and I've never really had the time to have these monologues with you as much as I used to anymore.

Life has been good. I am a married man now. The ring around my finger no longer feels strange. It fact, it feels strange when its not there. Women don't seem to be as eager to talk to me anymore. I'm pretty sure its because of the ring. But that's okay. Because every evening I return home to a beautiful woman that never fails to make me laugh or smile. I tell everyone she's my secret girlfriend, but actually she's my wife.

From the emails I've been receiving, my father is doing alright in the Philippines. Life there moves at a turtle pace he said. He said he misses my brother and I, and that he loves us. Distance does funny things to relationships. It amplifies what's in your heart. When my father was around, he never said he loved us, or missed us. But now that he is away, and precious emails are all that bind us together, words of love and affection seem to flow much easily. In the same way, when there is disillusionment and frustration, distance amplifies that effect. I wrote an emotional reply to him. I told my father I loved him too. I told him how much I used to admire him as a child, and how I still do now, as an adult. Father day never seemed a big deal in the past. Now that he's away, it is.

My brother isn't doing so well. He's obese and starting to develop health complications. Doctor said he has a degenerative spine disk. Something he got from falling down a few years back I think. But his weight is so much that it is putting too much strain on his spine. Doctor told him to loose weight fast before something bad happens. I've always fear that something will happen to him. When we were kids, my parents told us to always stick with one another because one day when they are gone, we would only have each other. And since he's my only brother, if I loose him, I will have no one in the future.

My thoughts have been on a certain friend. She had just gone through some near death experience and survived after 2 surgeries. She sent me a happy email telling me she was recovering. I was relieved. I've never been good at dealing with issues of death. It moves me deeply every time I think about it. Though death will always be a part of life, it doesn't make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. And I guess the most bitter part of it is saying goodbye. One of the first thoughts that went through when I learn about my friend was "What if I never get to say goodbye?" The pain of death isn't in the dying. It is in the separation. The unique thing about this particular friendship is this; I've never met this friend. We are what you would in days long past called 'pen pals'. We write to each other, sharing our thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears. But we are perfect strangers. And in some funny way, there is a certain beauty in that.

Anyway, I will stop here dear friend. I do now want to risk writing too much and making this too much of a bore. There are many more things I would love to share, but let us leave it for another day. Take care, and God bless you.

With warmest regards
Me

A Coveting Heart...

Do you ever find yourself wanting the things you shouldn’t be wanting?

Do you ever find yourself coveting other people’s things? Their car, their house, their phone, their shoes, their cloths…. How about their wives? Or maybe it’s not their wife…. It’s their husband,  their girlfriend, or boy friend. Whatever you call it, it’s basically not yours. But you want it anyway. And deep in the safe dark corners of your mind, you allow yourself to wonder and imagine, just how, if and when you will one day reach out your hand to taste that piece of forbidden fruit; how thrilling it would be; how rewarding; how sweet it would be.

What is initially pure admiration; looking at something good and appreciating its beauty, quickly becomes coveting; looking at something good and appreciating its beauty, then wanting to make it yours.

Have you ever felt that way? Wanting the things you know you shouldn’t want?

If you say no, then you are lying. Either to me, or to yourself.

At some point or another, we’ve all wanted what other people have.

At its most innocent form, you sit down for dinner at a restaurant and as you do, you see and smell what the table next door is having. Your mouth waters, your stomach growls, and you decide in your mind “I want that.... whatever that guys having, I want that.”

Then you settle into your seat and save for the waiter. In doing so, you spot a beautiful sexy woman; your eyes follow down the lines of her plunging neckline and rest upon the beautiful curves that rest beneath her silky dress. Your mouth waters, your loins tingle, and you wish in your mind “I want that… whoever that guys bedding, I want her.”  

You could say these are two very different things; that the first things is innocent while the second is immoral.

But I beg to differ.

The object of desire is different. But they are the same thing. You are wanting what belongs to someone else.

Either way, I have done both.

I have made greedy looks, many times, at many things.

and lustful glances, many times, at many women.

Some days, when I am at my best, I flee. I move far far away from the source of that temptation.

Other days, when I am at my weakest, no amount of running seems to help. The body runs, but the mind guides it right back to when you started. Like a person running a full circle.. only to come back to the point he first started. Ten I realize it’s my own heart I need to escape from.

Have you ever felt that way?

of Winter & Springs

Life can seem so tragic and sad sometimes. 

Just the other day, I was talking to a close friend, and she told me her father said to her "I feel lonely." Her mother, his wife, had passed away some time ago. Even though quite some time had passed, he still felt lonely. I felt sad hearing that. It's a horrible feeling, having a void in your heart and having nothing to fill it with. That same friend also told me her grandmother just passed away a few week earlier. She had succumbed to old age. And though she lived to a ripe old age, a loss is still a loss. She tells me with all this death and sadness surrounding her, she just doesn't feel like there is much to look forward to in this life. Even her own desires to be married and settle down seem dimmed. 

On the same night, I learn that another close friend just went through a roller coaster month, having just broken up with a boyfriend, only to reconcile almost a week later. How turbulent her heart must be. I asked if everything is okay.. if everything is normal again. She says yes... but there never really is such things as normal when you go through something like that. I remember this same friend a few months back. She was flying down to Singapore every weekend to be with this Auntie.. who was on the verge of dying. I remember the look on her face when she spoke about this old lady. She was like a grandmother to her.. and I could tell that she loved her dearly. 

Again, at the beginning of the year, my other half was surfing Facebook when she came across a lot of post from other people on a particular persons wall. Apparently, her friend from primary school had passed away in a car accident. We loaded his facebook page and scrolled down the wall. There were countless tributes and words of sadness from everyone over his passing. You could read how sad everyone was about his sudden death. We scrolled further down... and you see post from a day before...many of his friends posting on his wall... asking him to Wake up, wake up, wake up!!! Saying how mad they would be if he didn't wake up and buy them that beer he promised. Asking him to stop sleeping already and wake up to for futsal this Sunday. He went into a coma after the accident. We scrolled even more to just 2 days before the accident, and you could still see his last post on Facebook. He posted a song he liked to share with everyone. He made a shout out to a friend for some event there were going to attend. I guess he can't make it anymore. 

My own grandmother passed away a few months back. It was the first funeral in my family for almost 2 decades. The last person to have died was my grandfather, her husband. And although I wasn't particularly close to my grandmother, watching my uncles and aunties and even my own father shed tears of sadness made me sad too. So many celebrities we know have died too; Whitney Houston died, Steve Jobs died, Michael Jackson died, Amy Winehouse died..... Their deaths are seldom related to us, yet we feel sad too. We somehow feel a loss simply because we know a life was lost.. and it could easily have been us.. or the ones we love. 

Death is grim. But it is surprisingly a good reminder of life. After being surrounded by death, you become acutely aware of how alive you are. Holding someone you love, you don't just feel their skin anymore. You feel the warmth of their palm and the blood that runs beneath it. Being aware of death, you suddenly realize how precious, how beautiful, how fleeting life can be. Every laughter and tear seems magnified. Every moment seems so precious. 

My other half was asking me the other day "How do you think all those vampires would feel.. in the movies.. if they could live forever.. how do you think they would feel?" 

I was surprised. She wasn't the kind that usually asked this sort of questions. 

I guess it would be a lot like the greek gods. Those who lived forever would feel bored and detached. Since everything is timeless, no amount of change seem to matter. Since there is no death, there is no renewal. Everything becomes stale. Life becomes stale. 

Ironically, death makes life beautiful. 

I've never quite understood people attraction to babies. I've always been awkward around them. But more and more, I'm starting to realize.. When people look at a baby, they aren't just looking at a cute, chubby little  miniature human.. they are looking at creation renewed. They are looking at life in its spring. Where hope blossoms and happiness flows. And I guess for many of us who are starting to see one too many winters, there can never be enough of spring... 

Have a good night everyone. 

The Hair Salon

Apparently, I have a small problem with going to hair salons.

For some reason, the few times that I have dared ventured into a hair salon to get my hair cut by a 'proper' hair styles, I have consistently shown signs of nervousness, stress and anxiety. I sort of freeze up, I can't speak like I normally do, and when the hair stylist ask me "So how would like your hair cut?", I look like I'm constipated. 

You see, I grew up going to Barber shops. In the barber shop, you sit down and read old Lao Fu Zi or Archie comics while waiting your turn. On the walls, there are usually pictures of famous Indian actors like Rajini Khan, Shah Rukh Khan or whatever Khan was the latest rage in Bollywood at the time. When your turn is up, the barber will usually be shaving away half the hair on your head before you even get to warm up the seat. You can are of course allowed to tell him how you would like your hair to be styled. Fringes, partings, slopes... specify to him whatever you want. The only catch is, no matter what you say, it will still come out exactly the same. They were kind of like the Henry Ford of the hair cutting industry. You can have any style you want, as long as its short and ugly. But for the fast and hassle free experience and the price you pay, people seldom make complains. It's not the sort of hair cut you'd go to your prom with, but it's not that ugly that you'd never return to the barber shop ever again. And since there are so many barber shops around, if you didn't like one, you could simply go to another till you find one that cuts your hair to your satisfaction. 

But hair salons are a different matter all together.

It's a barber shop, you get a fat (and sometimes smelly) guy with a very conservative hair himself tending to your needs. He cuts in an efficient and steady manner. Style and flair is secondary. In the hair salon, you have a young, funky man/woman, usually spotting some outlandish hairdo. He/She trims your hair literally like it's about to become their next masterpiece. Even before the stylist ever sees you, there is shampoo lady, who will wash your hair and dry it.. making sure its clean enough to be touched by the sacred hands of the holy hair stylist. And when the stylist finally shows up, he gives your hair a few flicks. And unless he did your last hair cut, he'd probably look at you as if Edward Scissorhands did your last hairdo. Then... there is the dreaded question... "How would you like your hair?"

And that's where I crumble like a cookie. Bare with me a bit here OK.

You see a hair stylist and pay more money instead of a barber because you want better hair. That implies that you acknowledge that the stylist is an expert at the subject matter; that he knows more about your hair that you do. That in turn implies that you should listen to their expert advice. So if I'm paying them for their counsel, why the f**k am I being asked how I like my hair? I want nice, neat and presentable hair. That's all I can say. Don't ask me what to do. You tell me!

Anyway, I understand that the stylist just cant start cutting your hair without first knowing what you have in mind.. or knowing your appetite for funky hairdos. So it's not totally unreasonable that they get some feedback before butchering my hair. So I go

Ahem.. well.. I want the sides to be.... short... and the top to be.... neat.. and erm... overall.. it should look...... well.... presentable-la... You know. The kind your mother wouldn't cringe at....the kind that makes you look opposite of what a Lala-boy would look like.

*lame look from the stylist*

And then they go "Oh you know.. your face is oval.. so your hair shouldn't be too short, otherwise, you look like an egg... OMG.. the rear of your skull is a bit odd... so again, short will expose it and make you look funny... and side partings are so last century... I really wouldn't recommend it. You shouldn't come downwards.. it should be spiky and upwards.. pointing to the sky because that's where heaven is...

WTF...

It seems like I've surrendered both my money and my hair to the next Mr. Vidal Saasoon to become his next masterpiece Guinea pig. Not only am I not going to get the hair I want. I'm going to have to pay I'm for it.

Ah.. then there's the money... the big game changer. Like I said, you pay the stylist substantially more (3 times more to be exact) than you do the barber. That means you both acknowledge that there is a higher value in this cut... be it tangible or intangible. So since they are charging you more, and you are paying more.. there's gotta be something that is different. I suspect that the stylist feels they feel obliged to make your money's worth by throwing outlandish and funky hairdo ideas to you and cut you hair as if your hair was their greatest creation to date. They won't let you get away with short, neat and presentable... because that's so beneath them... so..... barber-ish... And YOU... you can't walk away with merely short, neat, presentable  

hair especially when you are paying that kind of money for a freaking haircut! So you take all the crazy funky hair ideas from the glorified barber stylist .. because you think that's what you paid all that money for.... even if you don't really want anything funky at all..

You see my where I'm getting at?

Halfway through the haircut... when the stylist goes off to get some more contraptions to carve my head, my other half comes up to me and whispers "You know...you do realize that  if you're not happy with the way he's cutting you hair, you can always tell him to do it differently right?"

Well honey... that's what I thought with the barber too....

Have a good week everybody.

If you died today

If you died today, who will miss you most?

Would it be your boss? Would it be your colleagues? Would it be your friends? Would it be your family?

If you died today, who will find it hardest to move on?
Your telco company? Your bank? Your other half? Your family?

If you died today, what will you worry about the most after you are gone?
Your unfinished work in office? The state of politics in your country? Your family?

Every now and then, I lose perspective of what's important. It's sad that it often takes something dramatic to happen, like someone we personally know dying suddenly, before we are reminded again on what are the truly important things in life.

Another Day to Live

For about ten minutes, I seriously thought my time to die had come today.

It was when the lights went dim and the pilot announced "Flight attendants, please take your seats for landing.." But instead of descending, the plane swerved violently and started to make a sharp dive then a sharp climb. Everyone in the plane was started. I felt an intensity of the G-Force pushing down on me as the plane seemed to climb desperately. I spontaneously let out a low groan. It seemed everyone around me felt it too. I could feel the intensity of the wind. And sitting at the back rows of the plane, the feeling of being tossed around could only have been worse.

I had been on many flights before, and this was certainly not normal. Pilots don't suddenly decide to go all roller-coaster immediately after announcing a landing. Perhaps at the very last minute before touching down, the pilot had to abort the landing due to an unexpected wind. Whatever it was, it scared me. I switched off my MP3 player and started paying attention. The little boy next to me was terrified. And his mom was trying hard to reassure her. But I could feel her mothers nervous energy. To my left, the man sitting next to me had tightened his seat belt for the third time.

I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do anyway. I thought of all those disaster movies, where the poor characters all are stuck on a place that's about to crash, and the hero comes up to the crowd and says "If you believe in God, now's a good time to start praying..." There was no hero in my plane, but I started praying anyway. I suddenly understood why some people were so terrified of flying. There was absolutely nothing you can do if something bad was about to happen. Your life literally depends on 3 parties; the pilot whose flying the plane, the engineer who built and maintains the plane, and most importantly, God himself who decides which wind blows your way. You just had to trust that they each would do what they promised to do; one to fly, the other to fix and the last one, to save.

So I closed my eyes and started praying. Or at least I tried to. It all came out in an incoherent mix of fear, hope and faith. What you have no time to think, the things most important to you, usually come out most naturally...

"Oh God... help us. Help us get through this safely. If its possible, not yet God, not yet. I can't die yet. My family needs me. They need me. Please God. But if I really die God.. if I really die.. then let them be OK... Please let them be OK...."

That Garth Brooks song started playing in my head.... "If tomorrow never comes, will she know how much I loved her? Is the love I gave in the past, going to be enough to last, if tomorrow never comes?" I closed my eyes and started visualizing my own funeral... with my father, mother, brother, wife, friends all standing around sobbing. Would they ever know that my dying thoughts were on them? Will they be alright? Funny that my thoughts were more on those who would survive me rather than on my own death. I kind of knew that once I was dead, that was it. In the blackness of death, a day would be a thousand years. And a thousand years would be a day. But for those who lived on, it would be weeks, months, years and decades of sadness and lost.

Hours earlier, my wife hugged me closely and said to me "Come home safely OK dear.. I can't afford to lose you." I had always brushed talked like that aside. To me, I wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon, so there was no need for such talk. But right now, sitting in a plane being tossed by the winds so easily... her worries didn't seem so unfounded after all. After about 20 minutes of circling around, waiting for the weather to subside, the pilot announced that we will be making the 'final' approach to land. The most dangerous part of a flight is often the landing. I was still recovering from the earlier failed landing attempt.  I didn't like the 'final' part in his sentence. It was still raining heavily. I wondered if perhaps we should wait longer before trying again?

Needless to say, this isn't written from the great beyond, and I didn't die. The pilot landed us safely and we arrived in one piece. Although everyone did seem more eager than usual to get out of the plane. The little boy next to me was smiling again. And as for me... well, I kind of laugh at myself.. it felt as if I had gone overboard in my own thoughts (again). Perhaps I wasn't quite at the brink of death as I thought I was.

Sitting in the taxi heading to the hotel, I thought about it a bit more. It didn't really matter if I wasn't technically really going to die. Emotionally, it felt real. Emotionally, in that short ten minutes (that seemed to last an eternity), I had given the prospect of my immediate death very serious consideration. And as expected, the fear associated with it sprung out so great, I was hardly able to contain it. Had something else not sprung at the same time, I don't think I could have taken it so well. That something else was faith. While a big part of me is not ready to die, a big part of me also believes that all things are in the hands of God. If my time was indeed up, I had to trust that God knows what He's doing... and that He would take care of the ones I loved most... and that if I were meant to die today, in the grand scheme of things, it was never going to be without purpose or meaning.

So thank you God... for keeping me safe today. You answered my prayer, and you gave me one more day. I'm calling my family... to tell them I love them. Thank you for that.

Happy I Am

We live in such times, where a person’s greatness is often measured by his stature in society, where wealth measured almost exclusively by the amount of money you have. And in turn, greatness and wealth is used to measure happiness.

Happiness; that elusive state of heart and mind we we all struggle to achieve.

Let me tell you a secret……

I have been cheating.

Because I am neither great,

nor wealthy,

yet,

I am Happy

;-)

Everybody's Changing

Everybody’s changing...
and I don’t feel the same...
Perhaps.....
I'm changing too...

Lending To Lionel

A lot of people have been telling me that I should make a police report.  After I found out that Lionel had basically cheated me of my money, I decided to do some digging. I somehow managed to strike up a friendship with the HR lady at his former company. From there, she gave me all his details; his full name, his NRIC number, his old home phone number and even address. I called the number, which as expected, was no longer in service. I have not gone to his house yet. I don't really expect him to still live there. A simple Google search later reveal that Lionel a.k.a. Chia Tiong Beng had been involved (or allegedly involved) in cheating crimes all his life. An article dated 1960 showed that he and another friend were acquitted of cheating a hawker of some money. This was when he was still in his teens.

Another article dated 1996 in Manilla showed that Lionel and his 'wife' were arrested by the Philippine anti corruption agency for cheating Singaporean businessmen out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I realized then that the man that I had met was no ordinary swindler. Everything he had told me about himself fit the bill of what I just found. In hindsight, he was a skilled liar. There were many things he said and did subtly that I now realize were meant to lure me into a false sense of security.

Having a thousand dollars taken away from you tends to have an effect on you. Like I said before, I felt dumb, because when you look at it properly, this man didn't set out to cheat me. I practically offered it to him. He merely took a chance at an opening that I guess would be considered 'god sent' to him. I'm not even sure any crime has been committed. I gave him the money at my own free will. He undoubtedly represented himself with false pretenses, but unless I am wrong, verbally lying to a stranger wasn't a criminal offense.

For many days, I considered how I would now respond with my new found information. Whenever I was in Singapore, I would think about nothing except how to get my money back from this man; what I would do to him if I ever saw him again. I remained angry and bitter. I wanted to hurt this man for cheating me out of my hard earned money, however small it may seem in the grand scheme of things. It still hurts every time I look at my bank account and remembered that it's 3 digits short of what I was supposed to have. It hurts even more when I have to tell my family that this or that thing cannot be done anymore since I was out of funds.

But the whole episode has awaken me somewhat.

The pain of the sting reminded me again how valuable money is, and the importance of being prudent and cautious with it. I decided that I will try my best not to let this affect the way I chose to be charitable to others. But I will certainly be much more cautious in the way I give it out. I decided that I mustn't let this make me less trusting of people, but I needed to be wiser in taking the necessary steps to protect myself.

But there was also something else. As valuable as money was, the episode also reminded me of how there were more important things in life than money. I remembered being told of how twenty three thousand people had committed suicide after the great Wall Street Crash of 1929. My church pastors said it was because these men had made money their world and their God. And when your world and your God is lost, even your own life seems not worth living.

I admit, for the better half of the year, my mind had been obsessing with money. As I moved deeper into adulthood, I moved deeper into financial commitments, and suddenly the lack of money became something I was aware of on a daily basis. I had a house to pay for, rent to keep, people to feed, car to maintain, parents to care for, and perhaps in a year or so, children to expect. It was just a matter of time before money took center stage.

The day I admitted defeat, I went home to my wife, embraced her and declared to her "I'm sorry. I feel so stupid.". She stroked my hair, touched my cheeks and told me "It's OK dear... it's only money."

And that was the point of realization for me. Yes it was money. But it was only money. In her eyes, we had lost nothing significant that we could never replace. I guess I needed a reminder of that. It was a humbling moment for me. I was grateful to her for not wagging her finger and saying to me "I told you so.." I was grateful that she wasn't make as big a deal about it as I was.

I remembered some incident many years ago where I had also lost some money and whined about it to a friend. He said this to me "It's okay. Treat it as a tuition fees you had to pay, for the lesson you have now learned." He called this the 'University of Society' where all lessons are through practicals.

I ask myself again what I'd do if I ever bumped into Lionel again. Could I truly do as the bible says and bless the one who curses you, or turn the other cheek? Is there enough grace in my heart to forgive and forget? Do you forgive a person who has neither repented nor asked for forgiveness? Will I try to exact some sort of revenge on him?

Here's the only answer I can muster for now.

I will break his nose. But he can keep the money.

A Fool I Am

Sigh…

Life seems so hard to live at times. I’m the kind of person who usually struggles with himself internally. I have 2 minds in one body. One desiring to do what is good, right and pure all the time. The other desiring to do what is devious, immoral and much less innocent (and seemingly more fun) things. The struggle usually involves trying to muster and rally the ‘light’ part of me so that it is not overtaken by the ‘dark’. Like a single ray of light surrounded by complete darkness, the darker parts of our minds seem to always be threatening to swallow up the light.

I often second guess my own thoughts and intentions. I question my own heart. I find myself always asking if I’m doing the ‘right’ thing in life.

Last week, I found myself driving all the way into the heart of town on a Friday night, braving the horrible traffic and pouring rain. There was a man, a complete stranger, who was waiting for me. He needed what I had in my pocket. An envelope filled with a sizable amount of cash. I had never met him. I had come to know him only a few hours earlier, on the phone. A Singaporean man, stranded in KL. He told me he had lost his wallet and phone while on holiday. He needed money to clear his hotel bill and to take a bus home. His Embassy would not help him and he didn’t know anyone else. He got our number off the internet, called my office, looking for a former colleague of mine. Somehow I ended up taking the call instead, and somehow, I ended up volunteering to help him out of his predicament.

Most of the people I told had raised eyebrows. Apparently to them, this was something totally out of my character. I was less than pleased with their reaction, but I went ahead anyway. I know I’ve never been one to actively participate in charity towards others, be it the poor, needy or sickly. I frown upon giving to street beggars, I coldly turn away people soliciting diner from me over lunch, and I refuse to sign up for any monthly contributions for cancer, world hunger or any sort of humanitarian funding. But this time, for once, I felt sure that this was the right thing to do. There was a man in need of help desperately, and I was in a position to help. And so I did.

When I met him, he was nervous and jittery. I guessed he had a long day. He told me about what happened, how he lost his wallet, how he was refused help, how no one came to his aide. I gave him the cash. He left his Singaporean phone number and address with me. We agreed to meet up the following week, when I was in town. He said he wanted to repay my kindness. I felt good. I felt like for once, I had done something good for someone. I felt like I had done the right thing. It was a risk, giving money to a stranger. A few people raised doubts. “Do you think he’s genuine? Do you think he will really pay you back?” I didn’t really know. I just chose to trust in the goodness and honesty of man.

Right now, it feels more like I’ve was confirming the naivety of fools.

When I was finally back in Singapore and ready to meet the man again, I dropped him a text. It didn’t go through. I tried calling, but the line was still deactivated. Strike one. I was guessing perhaps he still hadn’t got his mobile number reclaimed. I waited a full day, but still no sign of him. I had left my business card with him, but there was no news from him. So I decided to search for his company and called his office instead. But after a 5 minute conversation with reception and a 20 minute talk with the HR department, I discovered that the man didn’t work there anymore. He had left, 10 years ago. Strike two. Still I gave it the benefit of the doubt. The lady who spoke to me seemed to know him personally from back then. She praised me for my kindness, and even vouched for the man. Said he didn’t seem the kind that’d try to pull such a thing, especially in tiny old Singapore. So I gave it one more day.

But the silence bothered me.

And so last night, after dinner I made the drive from my apartment to the address he gave. It was right across town, somewhere in Hougang. I tried imagining all the different scenarios on how this might end up. Would I find him? What would I say? Should I still play nice? Do I make a scene? Do I still try to be graceful? But the scenario that greeted me was the one I feared the most, the one I was hoping to eliminate by driving there.

The address did not exist. The block existed. The floor existed, but not the unit number. Strike three.

I was out.

I was angry. I repeatedly cursed the man under my breath. How dare he take advantage of my kindness. How dare he store me in the face, shake my hand, thank me, then stab me right in the back and run off with my money. But I was angrier at myself. I felt the fool, for naively trusting; for stubbornly choosing to be wide eyed and innocent, even when others were blowing caution to the wind. What was I trying to do, feed my own ego by acting the part of the generous, graceful, good Samaritan?

The one time I decided to act gracefully and innocently became the one time I am reminded why there is very little place for such things in this fallen world. It would seem that in this world, to keep our innocence will mean being fools willing to suffer the indignities of the world. 

If being good is to be a fool, then perhaps, a fool I was meant to be.

Good night world.

of Fatherhood

This weekend would mark the 1^st year of my wedding anniversary.  I guess you could say it’s quite a milestone. To be honest, I didn’t really realize it until my boss (of all people) came up to me and reminded me about it. I found it quite amusing that my own boss knew my own wedding better than I did.

A year plus back, the question most people had for me was “So, how do you feel about getting married?”. A little than less of a year back, the question was “So, how’s married life?” This time around, its “So, when are you going to have kids?”

I know most people ask it as a courtesy of sorts. And in many ways, they are perfectly normal questions. After all, these are the natural progressions of people who step into marriage. My parents and some of our closer friends seem almost more excited over the prospects of having kids than we are.

But honestly, it bothers me.

My wife constantly asks “Don’t you want children?”

My standard reply would be “Of course I want them, just not yet.”

She’s ready, I know. I think she’s been ready since day one of our marriage.

But I’m not…………….. at least I don’t feel like I am.

She’d give me this “You’re such a typical guy…” kind of look. And I suddenly feel like I’m back in the same position I was about 2 years ago. Back then, I seemed to be running away from the idea of marriage, and now I seemed to be running away from the idea of parenthood. As for my wife, she’s way ahead of me emotionally, waiting for me with arms crossed, asking me “I’m ready, you’re not. When are you going to get there?”

But I understand myself. I’m not the sort of guy that takes changes easily. I’m slow when it comes to emotional adjustments. I need time for things to sink in. I need time to get used to new roles I’ve been put in life. And right now, it seems like I’m just getting used to the idea of being someone’s husband. It’s been only a year, but already I feel like I haven’t been a very good one. So, who am I to say I’m ready to be a father? How do you progress on to the next level while you haven’t even mastered the current one? I am reminded of the Calvin and Hobbes comic… where Calvin’s father say he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if he knew being an adult was so ad-libbed. 

I guess my uneasiness boils down to two things. First, I don’t think I’m good enough to be a father yet. I know to many, it comes naturally. Many women seem to have some sort of maternal instincts built into them that naturally comes out the minute they pick up a baby. Many men I observe also seem to take up fatherhood so effortlessly. But I don’t feel like I am one of them. If I am going to be a father, I’d want to do it right. And right now, if I haven’t sorted out the mess in my own head, I have no business trying to raise a child.

Secondly, it’s my own life. I’m comfortable with the way things are. You could say I even like it. I l enjoy the freedom I have. I already have parents and in laws that are dependent on me. Having a little mini me just feels like another financial burden (as selfish as that sounds) that I’m not quite ready for yet. In my meanest and most blunt manner, I once say to my brother “Well… if he (my father in law) dies and he (my brother in law) moves out, then, ya, I’d be ready for a baby.” I know money isn’t everything. And it seems so crude to be talking about children as if it was something you should want only when you can afford it.

With great faith that even I cannot muster, my wife believes that whatever it is, things will work out fine. That God will provide for our every need. There I realized the difference. While I may know more about God and the bible than she did, she put her faith, hope and trust in God while I placed mine in myself. I am acting exactly the way my father did.

*Shrugs*

Perhaps if it is my fate to be a father soon, I should start looking at my own father too… the one in heaven that is.

Money Matters

“Do you think I’ve lost my bearings?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… do you think I’ve lost sight of what’s important?”

“Maybe…. Ya… A bit I guess… You have been obsessing about money more than I like.”

“Yes, I know. But that’s because I feel very strongly that it’s my duty to provide… and I need to do that well. I feel as if the things I do in the coming few years will impact us for the rest of our lives. If I am to provide more than enough for this family in the future… I need to do something now. But I don’t know if what I can provide is going to be enough. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to put us in a nice big house, afford all the things we want or travel the places we want to see together.”

“Don’t worry dear… whatever you can provide…it will be enough… I don’t need a lot to be happy. We don’t need a lot of money to be happy.”

The thought of money (or the lack of it) had been constantly looming over me of late. It’s a simple thought. “How am I going to find enough money for all the things that require it?” Every single time I pulled out a few hundred dollars from my pocket to be given for medicine, groceries, household necessities, bills, rent… I fear that I’d not have enough the next time I need to pull some out again.

It’s not like I had no income at all. It’s not like we had no place to stay or food to eat. It’s the sheer speed in which the money comes in every beginning of the month gets wiped away so quickly that scares me. What if one day, that money stops coming in… and bills still need to be paid?

I realize that nothing I say here is news to adults the world over. A big part of being an adult would mean tackling and managing these issues. And for a big part of this year, you could say that my singular focus was on trying to manage all the money coming in and going out of my pocket. I suddenly become very aware of the fact that there is fierce competition in the world on what you should do with your money.

Telco’s tell you that you absolutely need an iphone, blackberry of some sort of ‘smart’ phone with a data plan because not having one is so last decade. Insurance agents hound you, scaring you with cost of medical treatment, mutual fund agents warn you on the foolishness of people who don’t invest their money, investors tell you to invest in everything from gold bars, land, blue chip stocks, Islamic funds, bonds, insurance plans and even burial plots (no kidding), credit card companies call you and splash money in your face with deceptively low interest rates per annum, older folks tell you to invest in property quickly before everything becomes unaffordable, friends ask you out for Friday night drinks at bars that sell beer at the cost if liquid gold, airline companies (and other friends) ask you to go on overseas holidays since air travel has become affordable, cancer society and various NGO’s approach you asking you for donations for  well deserved causes, direct marketers push you to buy their super duper washing liquid that cleans both your hair, face, body, car and toilet bowl with a minty fresh scent, random strangers walk up to you asking you to buy lottery tickets, homeless beggars with no leg reach out their hands asking for a dollar.

And at every junction… there is always the same question to be answer.

Should I or should I not put my money here? What is the right thing to do?

I realize that being in charge of your own finances, your own wellbeing, and that of your entire household is tougher than it seems. It’s not so easy trying to be not too emotionally involved in it, yet still be on top of things. Men of ancient days brought food to the table by arming themselves with spears and knives. We don’t carry physical spears and knives anymore. Things have change. But it’s no less easy living in this digital jungle today. I might not be a dad just yet. But I suddenly understand how it’s like for them.

Google +/- ?!

Someone sent me an invitation to join Google+. I had left that mail in my inbox and ignored it for 2 months. Finally I decided "Oh what the hell.. no harm trying.." and clicked join.

5 minutes later, I deleted my Google+ account.

Not that I didn't like it.

I just didn't have the energy to start out over on another social networking site. My Facebook is already rather neglected.... who am I to start another social networking account.

I started out with Friendster.. which was quite novel at the time. I skipped Hi5, Myspace and a slew of other randowm networking sites. Couldn't dodge Facebook. Hated Buzz and now, Google+ has been automatically disqualifed for no fault of its own.

I think we live in an age of over connectivity. Those who live in the city already have internet all the time. People who carry iPhones and Blackberrys have their emails in their pockets. Things like WhatsApp or BBM make texting each other a breeze. It's making it ever more convenient for us to connect to one another, but it's not actually making us want to.Or maybe that's just me. I don't want to be connected and contactable all the time. Even with my own boss, colleague, wife or family, I sometimes deliberately ignore their calls. It's fatigue from over connectivity.

When two people have a desire to connect, they will find a way. Once upon a time, it was letters, then telegrams, then phone, then emails, then instant messaging. Today, it's all of the above. Yet, I still find myself no where closer to catching up with people I've promised to catch up with so many weeks and months ago.

An old friend asked me a while ago why I was never on MSN chat. I said I never bother to... and asked why she did. She said it was a great way to keep in touch with everyone at one time. I said if you wanted to keep in touch with me, all you had to do was call. We could talk over the phone or meet up. That's catching up to me.

We are born with 5 senses ;sight, smell, sound and touch and taste. These are the gateways we experience life and each other. If we chat computer to computer, I don't see you in the flesh, I don't smell your scent, I don't hear your voice, I can't touch your skin... and I obviously can't taste you. But if we meet face to face, I see you before my eyes, I can detect you scent, I can hear you loud and clear, I can hold you and make eye physical contact. I obviously still won't taste you (since licking your friends seems rather inappropriate for cannibalistic or sexual reasons). BUT, we do share a meal together, hence a shared experience of taste right?

Anyway, what it really boils down to is this. I' not a hermit. I enjoy keeping in touch with my social circle.... in the flesh and blood that is. The over connectivity I'm talking about is the over connectivity to the virtual world. In the virtual word, 'smileys; 'lol' and other assorted abbreviations and internet lingo become substitute for real human interaction. Which too me, is kinda like being short changed. You want life like a really hearty and wholesome home cooked dinner. Not a genetically modified, artifically flavoured, mass produced burger from crappy fast food chain.

That's why whenever I feel a strong connection with someone, I inevitable have the urge to meet them. Our own minds tell us that there is more to connectivity than just the instant part of it.

Is what I'm saying making any sense to anyone else? 

RIP Steve

Sorry I haven't posted anything lately. Busy is the lame, but nonetheless valid excuse I'm giving. The excuse I'm about to give is.... that I have nothing to write. Though life continues to go on, events continue to unfold, there has been nothing compelling enough for me to pen down beyond the random pieces of thoughts that would belong more on a twitter post than on a blog like this.

Steve Job died today. I remember being so impressed with his famous speech on ted.com to Stanford University graduates about how to live before you die. That was 6 years ago when he was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He talked about how he said ''Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." I admired that about the man. It would seem he lived a truly remarkable life by embracing his impending death.

We aren't all Steve Jobs. Only a minoriy of people ever truly live remarkable lives, doing things that would affect millions of people. The rest of us would most likely live unremarkable, ordinary lives. Remarkable people are the exception, the rest of us are the rule.  Not that there is anything shameful about that.If there is anything I think Steve Jobs was trying to say in his speech was to measure your life against yourself, kind of like a game of golf. "Your time is limited. Don't waste your time living someone elses life" he said...The only handicap you needed to improve on was your own. You had to trust your own gut and intuition to do what you think is right, instead of following what the world tells you you need to do.  He did a lot of great work in his life at Apple..He loved what he did, and people loved the things he did. The secret to those great work was this... "You've got to find what you love...... The only way to do great work, is to love what you do..."

It's funny....  that truly importan things only become apparent to us when we realize that we could lose it at any moment. The fact that whatever it is we have in our possession, isn't really something we own perpetually, but rather something we steward over momentarily. In this case, life itself. We have this life to live, but it's not meant forever. We build friendships, but they too come and go. The things we have and the money we earn, all eventually get passed on to others, either through our own doing or death. Nothing this side of heaven is ever permanent. It's fleeting. And I guess that's what makes it beautiful.

RIP Steve Jobs.

And good night my friend. You are on my mind as always.

My Fav Shots

One thing that I perhaps seldom mention is my love for photography.

I've always liked viewing and taking pictures. Life has always been a sequence of fleeting moments. And to me, pictures have always been the medium in which all that fleeting moment in life is freezed for us to savour after it is gone. Things like a breathtaking view, a warm smile, a tender moment, a heartbreaking sight... things like that make up the many memories we carry with us as we move forward in life.

Anyway, just on a whimp, here are some pictures which I'd like to share. I hope you like them. (click to enlarge) They are all taken locally in Malaysia. I've entered them into a competition. Hopefully, it wins me something!

Have a good weekend my friend.

Zen By the Beach

Purple Sea

A View of Luxury

They Don't Care

Sunsets on the Sea

Waves

Two Halves of Happiness

A Vista At Home

You'd Work There Too

Crawlies on the Floor