I love you. Asshole.

New Year Resolutions.

New Year resolutions are like mistletoe, they only appear at the end of the year and disappear again at year's end.

If I were to make a New Year's resolution, I would just make this one. Every year. 

 

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

How Not to be an Asshole. (DBAA)

Being an asshole is like being stupid. People can see you but you can’t. 

Believe me I know, I've been there. 

Truth hurts. The more it hurts the better you’ll become. 

Here’s my 10. 

1. When was the last time you smiled? Genuinely?  Now Smile please. 

2. Look people in the eye. And smile. 

3. Say 'please' and 'thank you' always.  And smile. 

4. Don’t be late for anything. 

5. Especially if you’re meeting your Mother/Granny or your Grab ride. These people are important. One gave you life, the other support life for his family. For all of them time is short. 

6. Be nice to the waiter and everyone in the service industry. Give genuine tips when appropriate.  *compliments are also tips. 

7. Say Yes to everything. For once. See how it feels. 

8. Listen to music. Really listen. Feel it. 

9. Stop joking. Really. Stop yourself and pay attention to everyone and everything around you. See how it feels. Really feel. Nice isn’t it? 

10. Tell your mother, your wife, your daughter, your son, your father, your husband “I love you” at least once a day. 

You never know when you will see them again. 

I love you. Live. For A Happy Happy New Year.

I love you. Merry X'mas

 Mary's boy child Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day.

It's the most wonderful time of the year. 

One can't help but to celebrate the holidays, nicely planned towards the end of the year leading to the start of a brand New Year. Signifying it's time to let go of the past and prepare to start anew. 

On this Merry and Happy note, I would like to share a Verse from the Tao Te Ching that compliments the season and coincides with the message of Christianity. 

It seems that Lao Tzu and Jesus share and preach the same gospel.

Photo by Gareth Harper on Unsplash

Tao Te Ching v.81

Faithful words may not be beautiful,

Beautiful words may not be faithful,

Those who love do not quarrel,

Those who quarrel do not love.

Those who know are not learned,

Those who are learned do not know.

The riches of the self-controlled person are in the Inner Life.

When one spends for others, one has more for oneself.

When one gives to others, one has much more for oneself.

Heavenly Tao blesses all and hurts no one.

The way of the self-controlled person is to act and not to fight.

*Translated by Isabella Mears

Merry Christmas One and All...

I love you. Papa.

 A Tribute to our Patriarch.

Gan Peng Chew @ Gan Yam - b.20 December 1912   d.Feb 2006

Abu & Papa

He was born on 20 December 1912, the eldest son of Gan Swee,- Kapitan China of Johol and his first wife.

Papa had a lot of growing up to do in a household that was fast expanding with siblings, first from his own mother- a Nyonya from Simpang Ampat Melaka, then from his father's second wife- a demure young lady with bound-feet from China. Grandfather was working hard around the clock to expand his newly established empire inside and outside his home in Johol. 

By 1919, he had proudly erected his sturdy home in two shop lots on Main Street by Chettiar builders. It was later annexed by the Japanese as their HQ during the occupation. Grandfather had a reputation for being a Japanese sympathiser although one of his sons, our fourth uncle was accused of being a Communist and executed. Nevertheless, the Gan household continued to grow to accommodate 14 sons and 13 daughters from two wives. 

Papa being the eldest heir, was sent to school to study English and Chinese in nearby Kuala Pilah. This was part of an elaborate plan to equip him to helm the Union Bus Co. started by grandfather. 

Before that, this suitable boy had to be paired with a suitable wife. 

Whether known or unbeknown to him, Papa had already been paired with a certain young lady in Simpang Ampat named Chin Kim. She was the third daughter of plantation tycoon Mr. Chin Poh who was good buddies with Mr. Gan Swee when they both started out as young lads off the boat from China. 

They were so close that they married sisters and pledged their first borns to each other for marriage. Ostensibly to keep the wealth of the families within the clans. The Gan's first born, a female was betrothed to the Chin's first born a male. Therefore the Gan's first born male, a third, was matched with the Chin's third born which was the first female. Both of them were of somewhat similar age with a year or two in gap.

Papa was blissfully wedded to our dear Abu- Madam Chin Kim, a fine woman of Nyonya heritage. 

She was a one-woman demolition team. In that she demolished all or any task set before her with great efficiency and tenacity. There was practically nothing she couldn't do. Being a Nyonya, the first order of proficiency was prowess in the kitchen. That she did extremely well clad in her sarong kebaya.

The kitchen, in our extensive colonial Dutch homestead spread over almost an acre of land on the fringes of Tampin town, was purpose built for serious heavy duty firewood cooking. It was constructed as an annex to the main living quarters, which was an elaborate wooden structure housing four huge bedrooms, two separate bathrooms on each wing, an enclosed inner living room serving as inner foyer for the bedrooms and an extended outer living room fringed with french windows and wooden trellises on the front and sides. The outer living room, for receiving guests was the least used area, as it leads to the front of the house ending with concrete stairs that slope to the front gardens leading down to the narrow front metal gate leading further down by steep narrow stairs to the main trunk road below. 

Did I mention that the entire house sits on thick concrete stilts? Except for the kitchen annex and the broad verandah that connects the kitchen, the store rooms and bathroom complex with the main house. Yes it does and by design, it leaves a delightful underbelly retreat for the kids, dogs and other animals to play or take refuge for whatever reason, whatever time of day or year. Especially our seven dogs. Plus it's a nifty place to store our coconuts when they fall from our numerous trees surrounding the compound. 

The 'main entrance' to our house is actually from the rear. A pair of heavy iron gates guard the entrance from unwanted visitors mainly cattle and goats who usually meet their unfortunate end if they should wander into our compound. Our Alsations are killers by instinct. Even human visitors who are welcome get an unfriendly reception from our dogs who are beautiful and handsome creatures but highly unpredictable.The only person they are afraid of is, you guessed it, Abu. And why might that be, you might venture to ask? Well, it's because our Abu is also our resident Veterinarian. She not only concocts the herbal remedies to heal wounds- animal, poultry or human, but she has the most dangerous task of administering the medicine to the wounded animal as well. No one else can or will do it. Picture five adult sized male alsations and two smaller females. The alpha male is the much dreaded and feared all black, pure bred, aptly named- Congo. He is thankfully balanced by the ever gentle and loving female matriach- Poppy, who bore him most of the litter. They all live happily under the main house. 

Whenever Papa comes home from work, he would nudge the iron gates open with the nose of his Simca. As is the usual modus operandi, to avoid running up and down opening the gates for father, we would agree to lightly latch the iron gates such that they will fling open on a gentle nudge from the chrome bumper of his unique French 4-door saloon Simca Aronde Etoile. The car would slowly descent from the tarred road down the gentle gravel slope to a clearing fronting the adjoining verandah between the kitchen area and the main house. The verandah is a long broad covered walkway that slopes off length wise to large cemented courtyards on both sides, that we use for sunning our clothes, fruits, and food. This strip of real estate is where we spend most of our time. Papa would perch himself on his favourite chair at the kitchen end just to be near where Abu is- the kitchen. Stripped to his sarong and his pagoda wife-beater, he would while most afternoons away chatting with his wife while she's busying herself making kueh for tea. Most times it'll be goreng pisang and keledek or steamed kueh bakul topped with freshly grated coconut. We all loved her for her endless culinary creations, all for Papa who would never allow her to leave home, even to the market but he will cart all sorts of meat and vegetables home for her to display her cooking repertoire. We would eagerly wait to see what Abu would conjure from her kitchen and we were never disappointed. 

Even though Papa was the General Manager of the bus company grandfather founded, he never was the 9 to 5 type. He is seldom found in his office but likely at the workshops, spare parts shops, in the work places chatting with people, building relationships or making friends. He had the gift of the gab. fluent in 7 languages they say, more gifted than Bond even more deadly. He wrestled an armadillo in the dead of the night while driving home from Johol, bundled it with the shirt off his back, swiftly into the boot of his Simca. I sat confused and confounded amidst the commotion soundly in the car. 

Papa was always on the move. At times, I remember seeing him getting in and out of his car several times a day, descending and ascending the gravel driveway to and from the 'main entrance' of our home. He'd be either unloading grocery for us or loading goods for the old folks at the welfare home he has been tasked to look after for many years. Otherwise he would love to drive long distance to Seremban or Malacca. Most times it's to meet people or to procure parts for the bus company and occasionally he'd take Abu on our family joy rides to visit her sisters and for doctors' appointments in both these places. It was on these trips that we get to enjoy the exciting array of delicious food that these ancient towns had to offer. And Papa knew where all the best eating places were. From the original mobile satay seller who operates under the angsana trees in front of the A'Formosa in Malacca to the beef brisket noodles stall situated deep in the wet market of Seremban town, we have sampled them all. Papa Gan was the original foodie. He even introduced me to Bak Kut Teh in KL back when I wasn't even ready for KL. But one is always ready for BKT. 

Apparently Papa's sphere of influence as a transportation man as well as foodie spread far and wide. During the 1950's and 1960's, startup bus companies relied on close cooperation and collaboration to keep each others fleets running smoothly. Whether in procuring new or used buses or spare parts, Papa's contacts stretched nationwide including Singapore as well as parts in the north.

Coming from such high standards of culinary exposure both from home and outside, we were taught to appreciate food, not just good tasting food but simple food cooked with heart will always have the umami factor. 

When the 70's came along, we had moved to smaller but more modern accommodations in No. 27, Woon Estate. It was a bungalow sitting on less than a quarter of the size of our previous homestead. It came with three bedrooms, two bathrooms with toilets instead of an outhouse with a bucket underneath and a good sized storeroom for our laundry and the occasional pet.  

Abu's kitchen was no longer wood-fired but gas. She continued to perform fabulously in the kitchen as well as her small garden tending to her favourite flowers mainly bougainvillas and orchids. Never requiring rest she seems determined to fill her waking hours with worthwhile work or chores once her duties of devoting herself to Papa was done. Papa realises that, counts his blessings, and tries his best to be a loving husband. It was easy to see that Papa loves Abu very much even though he's overly fussy and self absorbed at times.

However when the 80's rolled along, Abu fell ill and succumbed to her illness after bitter battles in oncology wards of hospitals in Malacca and KL. She passed away peacefully among family at home in August of 1986. 

Broken hearted and alone, Papa stayed on in Woon Estate in a home full of pleasant memories. The children have all flown the coop and settled down to their careers or forging ahead to build one.

Having just left the bank job Papa got me, still in my early twenties, I was finding my way in the world of advertising. Relatively single, available and living alone I coaxed Papa into spending time with me in KL. I assured him that he was free to come and go as he pleased. 

Powered by his trusty chariot, a white Datsun120Y-NK388, he was virtually a free man plying between Johol, Tampin and KL doing whatever he pleases. I think he loved the bustle of KL most, being the 'young' and adventurous type. I would be mostly absent, being entangled in my own life and career adventures, save for weekends. He would roam the neighbourhood where we lived and the streets of KL looking for food or companionship. He found both in abundance and more. He found his third wife. With great strategy and dexterity, he knew he needed someone to spend his time with at the same time, he'd be needing a companion to care for him as the years advances. So he found and courted an unmarried lady twenty-eight years younger than him. He promptly married her in a private ceremony he planned with her without any of his children's involvement. We didn't take his marriage to her very kindly. Perhaps because we loved the memory of Abu too much to call another woman 'Mother' so we called her 'Aunty'.

He seemed to have found happiness and a reason to live again. With his new wife, Papa roamed the country from Kampar in the north to Johol in the south and everywhere else in between. Later the happy couple travelled the world with friends on guided tours as well as guests to my sister and her family who lived overseas. Life was good. 

Grandchildren came early for both Papa and Abu. Their only child, our eldest sister, delivered two pairs of boys and girls in quick succession. Then second eldest sister who was adopted, delivered two girls and a boy. Our older brother and his wife made them fuss and delight over a pair of lovely children soon after their marriage. The first a boy to carry the family name forward. Then came my children also in relative quick succession- boy, boy, girl. Followed by our baby sister with an adorable little girl bringing up the rear of this generation. 

Papa and his wife were housed close to my family, saw our children often and our children got to spend quality time with their grandparents. 

The years flew by, the children got older and bigger, the adults got older and more stressed and the elder got Alzheimer's and lost. Papa loved driving and one day he got lost driving his Datsun 120Y somewhere in KL. We were frantic not knowing what to do. We even got a radio station to broadcast his car make and number and to contact us if spotted but to no avail. Luckily he stopped and stumbled into someone's house in the middle of nowhere asking for directions. The good samaritan got in touch with us and we promptly retrieved him. From then onwards we placed a lost & found card in his shirt pocket every time he went out but more importantly he could only go out with his wife. Even though he never got lost again, things became worse for his handlers, especially his wife. He would lose track of time and insist on going out at anytime of the day or night. Papa seldom takes no for an answer. Aunty took the brunt of it all, took the responsibilities faithfully and sometimes the blows from his walking stick. But the silver lining behind this affliction was that he also forgot about his illnesses. He used to suffer from gout and a mild cancer of the kidney, they all went away when Alzheimer's came. And he continued to live a relatively robust life. 

Until his grandson got sick. A pall of dark cloud seem to hang over the family when Jon was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. Papa was most distressed and even lucid. They were both very close to each other often spending time chatting about things. In a quiet moment shared with me, he confided that he would gladly give up his life in exchange for Jon's recovery. After his birthday in December and on the days leading up to Chinese New Year in 2006, Papa's health had deteriorated. He could barely sit up at our CNY reunion dinner table at home but he was present nonetheless. It was to be his last with us, and he left us on the seventh day of CNY. He went down, fighting a bleeding ulcer, at the emergency room of the KLGH. Even in his last moments, Papa's zest for life was insatiable. He refused to go quietly into the night but fought tooth and nail to hang onto a life well lived.

Happy Birthday Pa.

I love you. A Flower.

Of Impermanence and Unconditional Love.

Pix: PineForest

If you love a flower do not pluck it. 

Appreciate her beauty as it is. 

If you truly love the flower then you water it daily.

 

Even though you know you will never possess the flower 

That will eventually wither and die. 

Such is impermanence, such is life. 

When you love someone seek not to possess them. 

Instead nurture and help them grow into their natural beauty. 

Then constantly admire & enjoy that beauty for all eternity. 

This is unconditional love. 

I love you. Writing.

The Writing Business. - The Business of Writing.

Image PineForest

The most daunting professional skill of all time is and will be the skill of writing. 

Business writing to be precise. 

It is also the most feared.

It is what separates the winners and the also-rans. 

Perhaps this is why the pen is really mightier than the sword.

It is difficult enough to be proficient in the language of business- English, what more the challenge of writing to communicate clearly especially when your livelihood depends on it.

Because of fear, most people just wing it, ignore it, or simply skip it to avoid it by dictating a half-baked verbal brief. Thereby living only half an existence avoiding the fullness of life. 

But those who step up, face up to the challenge, are the ones who truly live their lives to the fullest. These are the ones who excel not only in their careers but also in life. 

In the business world or in any field, writing clearly, concisely and accurately is the only evidence of clear intentions to achieve anything. The alternative is a verbal brief, which is “not worth the paper it's written on.” It’s basically a cop out. A zero sum game because no one can be expected to remember a verbal brief unless it’s a recording. Still, nothing beats a well written brief. It wields power and  commands respect. 

Due to our outdated system of education, most of our young don't know how. Even if they think they know, it's probably outdated and archaic, worse broken.

Whether you are in business or not, you would need to communicate clearly, precisely and effectively to get ahead. Verbally or in writing.

I was practically thrust into the business world, fresh after dropping out of college. 

Business writing paralysed me even though my English was above average. My fear was #2- Confidence. I was trying to impress with my above average English comprehension but I knew wasn’t ready to write beautiful prose to match my ego. I tried nonetheless and I was miserable. Constructing a simple letter took hours if not days. It took me a long time to remove the “I” from my writing to focus on the message. That finally got me unstuck. 

Here are a few practical truths that got me to write better and to really enjoy the task even more.

Writing for Everyone.

#1. It’s about communication. Not writing. 

If you can communicate in the most basic form, you can write. So write the way you would talk. 

If you can put a sentence together in speech you can put sentences on paper. 

#2. Clarity not confidence. 

Write to communicate not to impress. It's about what is important not who. 

It's about allowing the message to emerge not the writer.

#3. Brevity not length.

Writing is really short and sweet. 

The best reports, letters, memos, briefs are the shortest and yet the most comprehensive. 

Being brief makes you choose your words and sentences more carefully to convey your message more effectively.

#4. Substance not style.

Substance beats style any day. 

Writing with intention and purpose will get you to the core of the message without wasting time with unnecessary words and phrases.

#5. Personal not Professional.

The best writing is mostly done out of personal commitment to excellence and authenticity. 

If the person communicating the message is fully committed to her/his writing, the result will be outstanding.

Or you can take up a course in business writing. It’s a thriving business I am told. 

 

I love you. December

 One Fine December Sunday morning.

Went to a dim sum brunch at The Ritz Carlton meeting up with A & B. 

I haven’t had a meal with B, a good friend in 16 years. With A, an ex-client, much longer. Foie gras dumplings were served with love at the table. The highlight was confirmation of a love secret never shared.

After brunch I floated from the Ritz, through StarHill onto StarHill Road mingling with the tourists, to the MRT Station leaving a trail of Stardust in my wake.

I boarded the northbound train sitting shoulder to shoulder with immigrant workers sharing a Sunday afternoon ride together in the cool comfort of the new coaches. Seven stops later I alighted at my destination descending among the locals in the upmarket suburb of KL at an evening market waking up to the night. I wandered around, stardust still in tow, as I picked up some coffee and a cup of strong long black brew while resting my legs in the shadow of a local artisan cafe- Shadow cafe* (English translation of a Malay name).  

Kueh Koci:Pineforest

Abu Abu- PineForest

Caffeinated and well rested, I walked away from the shadow with a bag of my favourite arabica blend from Gayo Mountain, tucked under my arm. I took to the streets again taking another route to ply the five-foot way of the rows of shops walking and meandering through the stalls of the evening market, picking up some local Kueh from very friendly local staff at one of the more serious authentic Malay restaurants fronting the main thoroughfare. I found what I was searching for- nuggets of Kueh Koci and a bonus Abu Abu, both precious as gold. I paid RM4.50 for three pieces of delicious nuggets. I paid in cash as well as compliments to the kakak who made the kueh and explained Abu Abu to me. Clutching my newly acquired treasures I then floated across the main road ducked under the pedestrian railing and ended up in Mr. DIY to find my ice lolly maker and quickly left to forage for food in Hero Mart. 

Bypassing the swanky Kenny Hills Bakery filled to the brim with the gentry drinking hipster coffee and eating overpriced bread, I slip into the speakeasy side entrance of the super mart to Manchu-purveyors of fine pork stuff. I spot good cuts and roast pork belly on sale. Made a note to return for pork belly cuts next time. Bought a big beautiful Nyonya dumpling wrapped in bamboo leaves. Another treasure to relish. 

Also spotted CNY goods already on sale alongside Xmas goodies which can simply mean that CNY will be soon after Xmas & New Year. Be prepared for jingle bells and prosperity drums playing in the air. 

It is the end of the year and soon the start of a new one.  It is indeed the most wonderful time of the year. 

Go on make it wonderful. We made it to December y’all!

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Gong Xi Fa Cai in advance. 

I love you. Sprezzatura.

Fancy a Sprezzatura?

Photo by Giuseppe Mondì on Unsplash

Words descend into our conscious space everyday. Some descend like the gentle breeze, some descend like a hammer. This word landed like a crown of thorns. 

She descended like a sunset over the Tuscan horizon catching me holding a glass of red wine in one hand enjoying the vista alone.

Intoxicating, refreshing, exuberantly liberating in every sense. The wine glass is full. 

I am in… a state called; 

Sprezzatura 

Which means…Effortless Grace. Studied carelessness. Studied nonchalance. Careless grace. Nonchalance. Organised chaos. 

This word struck me like very few words have. 

The word was uttered in total abandon by signora Olivia under the Tuscan evening sky over a hill on top of an olive grove overlooking the valley below.

The truth never sounded so good. Because it is immediately felt. 

Once you understand what those beautiful letters spell- S P R E Z Z A T U R A you will never ever be able to describe the feeling. You just understand and that is enough. 

Like all other words depicting ETERNAL TRUTHS, this word sits right up there with LOVE, NOW, MEDITATE, EARTH, WATER, AIR, FIRE, SPACE, NATURE, CONSCIOUSNESS.

They all ring true to my very core. Undeniably. Irrefutably. 

Words are vibrations and they come in waves. This one comes, cocoons and envelops me like a light woollen blanket with its unique prickliness. There is a certain chill in the air. 

Perhaps because it comes with the truth that to live life one has to let go of life. It brings with it an exuberance that almost chokes. At the same time it uplifts one’s spirit freeing oneself from all the fetters of guilt and despair. And the need for control.

Once understood, we begin to see that life is to be lived with a certain carelessness. 

Caring less for desired outcomes but accepting whatever comes as a result. No matter how industrious, well prepared, well planned or painful diligence poured into any pursuit, the outcome is yet uncertain. The result of one’s ventures seldom, if never, turn out exactly as planned. 

Sometimes, in fact most times, they turn out better than planned but one is too blinded with expectations that one misses the better result staring at one’s face. Perhaps it is because one only has one yardstick for the measurement of success. A dogged determination of gain, conquest, ownership and possession. Self-service as an end to all pursuits. Forgetting the bigger picture of who and what was gained, what was experienced and who we have become as a result of the strife. 

Only when one can adopt an attitude of 'careless grace' can one begin to fully appreciate life, enjoy the journey, choose whatever shows up and one will never be disappointed. 

The life that we live is truly 'organised chaos' because nothing is certain. 

When nothing is certain, anything is possible. 

All one has to do is pay attention.  

I love you. One Fine Saturday afternoon.

 One Fine Saturday in September. 

I had just finished a short but productive meeting with my Brunei friend and distributor at The Westin in Bukit Bintang. As I made my way back, I walked the short distance fr the hotel to the MRT station positioned right in front of Lot 10. This iconic old-school mall also houses many interesting stores as well as Isetan- my favourite Japanese dept store chain with unrivalled customer service. 

I took the escalators up and after two floors decided to browse along one while heading towards Isetan. 

A traditional red Batek sarong draped over a blue painted fence caught my eye. It was a painting hanging on the wall of an art gallery. The watercolour artist Chang Fee Ming came to mind, only he can accurately capture intricate details of traditional Batek sarongs and rural scenes so beautifully. It was rare to see real artworks by the famous Terengganu native that I simply had to see this one up close. After all most of his works are locked up in private collection and are quickly sold at rightly expensive prices. 

“A Blessing Morning” ~ Ting Cho Chien
Acrylic on canvas 152.6cm x 91.5cm

I was wrong. The artist is Ting Cho Chien, 52 born in Miri, Sarawak. His paintings in acrylic, are very competently executed displaying deftness of subject in fine detail. This is his 4th solo exhibition and it is titled “ Wish On The Same Big Sky” which showcases work between 2020-2022 - The pandemic years. Hence the title, fashioned after lyrics in the song “Somewhere out there” featured in the non-Disney animated musical- An American Tail. I spent some time admiring the art pieces from the exhibition as well as works of other artists on display including a few pieces by Eng Tay, a New York trained Malaysian artist whose figurative abstract paintings center on love and family. 

"Happy Hours" ~ Eng Tay, Oil on canvas 30cm x 40cm

"Precious Time"~ Eng Tay, Oil on canvas 24cm x 24cm.

'Cheerfulness' ~ Yap Chin Hoe, mixed on canvas 20cm x20cm.

Having satiated my soul, I made my way to the upper floors of Isetan where they have authentic Japanese merchandise, crafts and curios on display. Although the offerings were getting less and less over the pandemic years, this experimental, experiential concept store, a first outside of Japan, is a delight to explore. I browsed for a few minutes and managed to pick a couple of fine porcelain rice bowls for my collection and was very well served by an attentive sales assistant named Nur. I thanked her and bid her goodbye as I took the carefully wrapped bowls and escalators down to the ground floor and exited the mall’s main entrance a few steps opposite the MRT station. 

This three-tiered underground station has one level for the concourse & ticketing counters, one level down for the south Kajang bound trains and one more level down for north Kwasa Damansara bound trains. This is probably the only station with such a unique configuration. 

I caught the north bound Kwasa Damansara train that arrived promptly together with a throng of other passengers. Fellow Malaysians of various race, age, and fashion sense, spend their Saturday afternoon with loved ones embarking and disembarking KL's still spanking new MRT coaches. It was a pleasant sight to behold and to be apart of as families, youngsters, strangers, most standing, some sitting, mingle and mix in the casual commute with deference and respect for each other. The children travelling in prams or on tiny feet were especially endearing to watch and interact with. Their genuine smiles seem to be permanently etched on their faces. Even the ones with little masks on. 

After only two stops, I disembarked at Pasar Seni station to catch my connecting LRT to Bangsar. The lift took us up from the underground MRT to the adjoining LRT concourse and the escalator to the above ground platform. As I gently stepped off the escalator to the open air platform, I saw her for the first time- A Fairy, resplendent in costume of olden-day China. Almost exactly like the floating fairy images on mooncake boxes and firecracker packets. 

She was standing near the start of the platform in front of a pillar and a huge standing fan. Her hair was neatly tied up in a bunch like a headgear, adorned with pink and purple faux roses at the back. Her face, hidden by a mandatory white face mask made her all the more mysterious. Her almond shaped eyes peered at me from under finely shaped high eyebrows, two small pieces of white jade stones, one larger than the other, are embedded in the middle of her forehead. From her ears, headphone cables flow down her robe attached to her phone in her right hand. On her left hand, she holds the handle of a round silk fan embroidered with a pair of pandas playing under the branches of a cherry blossom. Her peach coloured silk overcoat was trimmed with a light olive band lightly embroidered with flowers, running around the lapels on her shoulders down to her front edges falling well below her knees. A red blouse and a long sweeping white pleated skirt, that hides a pair of silk embroidered slippers with upturned tips, complete the mystical creature's ensemble. From a distance she looked like a floating apparition.

Having never seen a fairy in person before, I was dumbfounded to say the least. What would you have done? I kept looking at her, discreetly taking pictures from my mobile. She was indeed very meticulously costumed and I was fascinated. I looked around to see if there was a camera crew somewhere filming her. There wasn't. The people standing around her were pretty nonchalant about her 'dress'. No one tried to chat her up nor anyone was conscious about distancing themselves from this 'fairy'. I simply stood observing her and the people around her and I surmised that commuters these days are unperturbed with oddity and have respect for each others individuality and creativity.

'The Fairy's Back' ~ Pineforest.

The train arrived and she effortlessly 'floated' from the platform into the coach as the doors slid open. The people, disembarking or embarking seem to part like water from a ship's hull when she boarded. I followed close behind into the first coach filling to standing room only.

The fairy was hanging nonchalantly onto a hand strap while the train lurched forward, after two stops arrived at my destination- Bangsar station. I squeezed past the thick facade of bodies to disembark, as I brushed past the fairy before stepping on the platform, I told her exactly how she looked. 

She let out a startled "Oh..! Thank you" as I walked out of her life down to my favourite Indian restaurant in Bangsar Utama for my thosai and teh tarek done to my specifications by Mani and his crew. It was a fine Saturday indeed.

"Thosai with 2-chutneys, fish curry, dhal curry" by Chief cook Mani.

I wish you fine days ahead.

P/s. Have you seen a fairy up front before?

I love you. In Memoriam

Death Ends A Life But Not A Relationship

Here I would like to honour the people who are dear to me and have gone before me;

In Memoriam. September 2022. 

• Grandfather and Grandmothers (Ah Kong, Ah Mah, Sar Mah)

• Mother (Mama)

• Step-Mother (Abu)

• Father (Papa)

• Son (Jon)

• Father and Mother in law (Kung Kung and Po Po)

• Elder Sister (Ah Chi)

• Dato' Douglas Lee

• Queen Elizabeth II 

 

Coat of Arms of Queen Elizabeth II

The recent demise of the Queen at age 96 saw the end of an epoch, of the past. 

Her funeral became the most watched event in television history. 

Never was silence and stillness observed for such long drawn periods amongst the people present during the procession of the Queen's coffin whether drawn on a gun-carriage by young naval officers or by horsepower to Windsor.

As much as people understand that die we all must, and that in this case there is even cause for celebration, anyone living past the big nine-O deserves a standing ovation. But as the moments and days go by from her demise, there remains another kind of mourning. Perhaps not a mourning but a feeling of a sense of loss of more than just a monarch or an extraordinary human being but the loss of values -  propriety, family, dogs, horses, duty, honesty, simplicity, discipline, sacrifice, selflessness, leadership, understanding, womanhood and love. 

One could argue that she lacks the last value but she loves everyone equally, starting from the inner family circle, outer family, community, the government, and the nation including the commonwealth. She mustn't be seen to have favourites and she wasn't. 

Which was clearly demonstrated in the case of Princess Margaret, her dearest only baby sister. 

She and Margaret when very young, made a promise to their father King George VI to never let anything or anyone come between them. When Margaret wanted her permission to marry the love of her life; Group Captain Peter Townsend, who was a war hero commissioned to serve in the royal household when George VI was king, she wholeheartedly gave her approval but the church and the parliament disapproved even though then Prime Minister Winston Churchill, personally approved of "a lovely young royal lady married to a gallant young airman." 

His cabinet refused to approve the marriage and the Archbishop of Canterbury did not approve of Margaret marrying a divorced man. The whole affair caused a constitutional crisis. 

The Queen stood her ground helping Margaret navigate the crisis, she planned to amend the 1772 Act making a royal marriage requiring the Queen's permission, allowing Margaret to marry Peter by removing her and any children from the marriage from the line of succession and thus the Queen's permission would no longer be necessary. 

"Her Majesty would not wish to stand in the way of her sister's happiness." she wrote in a letter on the subject to the Commonwealth Prime Ministers. 

In the end, Margaret and Peter decided not to marry and issued a statement citing the Church's teachings and duty to the Commonwealth as reasons. 

The Queen and her sister Princess Margaret were as thick as thieves growing up with their father and mother King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, who wasn't born fellow royalty. They were just the Duke and Duchess of York then with two daughters, Elizabeth and Margaret. The close family lived in 145 Piccadilly rather than one of the royal palaces. They had pretty much settled down to a normal quiet family life.

However that was not to be, when the heir apparent to King George V, King Edward VIII, abdicated the throne to marry Wallis Simpson, a twice divorced American woman. Reluctantly Prince Albert (Bertie) accepted the throne to become King George VI. Bertie went to see his mother Queen Mary, told her what had just happened and cried his eyes out, sobbing like a child. 

From that day onwards, the sisters Elizabeth's and Margaret's lives took a big turn. They in turn became heirs apparent to the throne of the United Kingdom. 

George VI although a good king, never expected or wished to be King. Although he suffered from a speech impediment, he never lacked bravery or enterprise and he had a strong sense of duty. He fought in WW1 and he was the first member of the royal family to learn to fly. He became King in December 1936. Shortly afterwards, WW2 descended on Britain. The royal couple and their family rose to the occasion and held the nation together by staying at their posts all through the blitz and showed love and care for their people. In addition, they coped brilliantly with the aftermath of the abdication restoring faith in the monarchy.

The post war years saw Britain undergoing economic hardship and the King's health took a heavy toll. He had been a heavy smoker and had his lung removed in 1951. He died in his sleep in the winter of 1952.

Princess Elizabeth and Prince Phillip was on the tour of the Commonwealth on behalf of the King. She was on the first leg of the tour in Kenya when she received news of the King's death. She immediately returned to Britain as Queen Elizabeth II. 

So, as subjects of the Commonwealth and therefore the Crown, one can't help but feel the loss of recent days. The events that unfolded and the implications that were felt makes one want to contemplate the legacy that the late Queen has left behind. 

For starters, for those of us, Malaysians or otherwise who were brought up on the English tongue, know that we have been speaking and writing the Queen's English. And if the comprehension and expression of your English far surpasses your own native language, then your mother tongue is English. 

I have often wondered what language would I be fluent in, had the British not colonised Malaya then?

Would I still be able to enjoy the news, writings, books, literature, entertainment, civilisation, culture, fashion, food, politics, racism, imperialism, and so forth, the way a British subject would or would the outcome be totally different?

I don't yet have the answers to that question but I daresay I can see, with the passing of this woman, that she was not only Queen of the United Kingdom or the Commonwealth but the entire civilised world. To put it in the words exchanged between, the Queen and Princess Margaret after her coronation which was telecast live on television to a worldwide audience, Margaret said to Lilibeth; "You are the most popular person in the world". Lilibeth replied; " and you are the luckiest."

Her popularity was, unlike that of famous politicians, movie stars, celebrities or even Jesus.

On the eve of her coronation day, she made a radio broadcast to the Commonwealth in which she pledged her devotion to its people saying;

"Throughout all my life and with all my heart I shall strive to be worthy of your trust."

Coronations have been held at Westminster Abbey for 900 years and The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II was to follow suit. Her coronation was set on 2 June 1953, only sixteen years earlier she had watched her father King George VI crowned in the elaborate ceremony in 1937. Hers was setting records of its own. It was the first ever to be televised in colour, it was watched by 27 million people and heard on the radio by 11 million people in the UK and over 200 million people around the world.

The Archbishop of Canterbury conducted the service, a duty undertaken since 1066. The coronation service include the Anointing of the sovereign with Anointing oils before god in an abbey. 

Therefore the Queen is installed as the monarch who is answerable to God. 

That is indeed a divine calling. No doubt when the crown was placed on her head, its weight was more than just a jewel-encrusted headgear. It came with the trust, the hopes and dreams of millions of people that the Queen will rule fairly and justly with dignity. 

Looking back at the 70 years of reign, she has delivered on the oath she took when she was anointed, crowned and installed as Queen at 25 years of age.

What a feat it was for any human being to achieve. It would seem that only a woman could have achieved that as it has just been proven that no man has ever done in the civilised world.

Although she had her fair share of challenges, governmental- mainly with the executive, the occasional family crisis including Princess Margaret, Princess Diana, and Prince Andrew. During her reign violence was central to the empire as exploitation of the colonies throughout the world brings into question whether the British Empire was a force of good or one of violent subjugation and exploitation? That is a story for another day. 

For now, I would like to mourn the passing of a remarkable woman who kept her promises, who said what she meant and meant what she said and in so doing, exalted womankind, inspired women and men around the globe. She carried out her divine work with her very potent 'soft' power. 

And to celebrate her life while bidding farewell to the end of the epoch of the Elizabethan age.

Thank you. Rest in Peace Ma'am.

P/S; Do you know The Queen's nickname?

I love you. Now

 The three-letter word. And the three-word sentence.

Photo by Aleksey Oryshchenko on Unsplash

 

Probably the most important word and sentence in Life. 

Now and Be Here Now. 

Now you are reading this. It is only ever NOW that you are doing anything. 

So why not Be Here Now? 

Think about that. Now. 

I love you. Pool Garden

Photo: PineForest

 The Trees

They breathe oxygen into my lungs.
They shelter me from the sun and storms.
Parading all the hues of blue and green

for my eyes to rest upon as I gaze out at the ether.


The Water

She snuggles me in the bosom of her depths.

She makes me gurgle and gasp.

She takes my breath away, each time I suck in

the life surrounding me atop the water.

The Japanese Black Pines

They surround all four corners of the pool garden.

Each standing vigilant like samurai warriors standing guard,

strong and dignified in the sun and wind, day and night.

I Love You. Rome

Of Ancient Cities and the Human Condition.

I have wanted to visit Italy so badly that I've resorted to watching their first locally produced TV series on Netflix to prime myself.

I am so glad I did as I get to visit the streets and sights of Rome every night after dinner.

I get to feast my senses on the opulent art, architecture, and infrastructure of the city down to the last detail of ancient cobblestones underfoot and intricate touches on columns, ceilings, church domes and murals on skylights. From the hefty solid gold Vatican door knobs down to fine accessories donned by Romans on their hands and romanesque bodies looking just as good in metal breastplate and battle helmets as in torn jeans and leather jackets. It is a rewarding experience.  

The script and stories that unfold are intriguing and convoluted to say the least. It seems to me that blood is quite easily spilt on the streets of Rome. Especially in the Subbura, place of ill repute- Caesar's family home started in these parts in 63BC.

From a macro perspective, one understands that Rome was (to a lesser extent now) a bathhouse of countless cultures and civilisations for two thousand seven hundred and seventy five years. That is a lot of blood, sweat and tears to wash down the streets of modern day Rome. 

This mafia-led gangster series see fellow Romans of all stripe and ethnicity slit each others throats and shoot each others brains out staking territories to control and expand, scheming to rule all of Rome. Both young and old fighting together, each other or plotting to murder the other.

The key players are young, confident, incredibly talented and all adorned with looks fashioned after their Greek ancestors. Adding further delight, is  an equally talented production crew of directors and cameramen/women. Meticulousness and attention to details with breathtaking framing of Rome's great locations bring a huge expansiveness to the cinematic experience. I guess this gentleman sitting on top of the production heirarchy; Executive Producer,  Matteo De Laurentis may be responsible for the slick production. The Italians have come a long way since the days of the spaghetti western, Tornatore, Bertolucci,  Zefferelli, Coppola and Scorcese. Now it's Danielle Cesarano and Barbara Petronio, both women. Rome is indeed run by beautiful and gritty women.

Still on production, special mention must be made of the music production. The angsty high energy Roman gangsta rap soundtrack that accompanies the series drives it hard and fast like a runaway train. A beautiful vignette of modern day's young people's Rome, their current sentiment is made felt here.

What a wonderful way of visiting Rome. Seeing the sights and hearing the sounds from the dark side sitting on my backside.

Then... there's the scenic drive from Rome to Venice with unscheduled stops in Florence and Bologna with little intent of arriving. That as they say, is a story for another day...

Ciao!

I Love You. Jon @32

 The Four Agreements.

This came to me early this morning at 5.30 am to be exact.

This book on personal growth based on ancient Toltec wisdom, written by Don Miguel Ruiz was published in 1997. 

It was on my list of spiritual or self-help books since 1999 when my journey into self began. I have acquired many books since but this one somehow eluded me. Until this morning when I awoke in bed, giving thanks for being able to wake and feel my limbs intact and mobile. It came in the form of an audio book so I promptly dived into it and barely into the first chapter, I found it warranted my full attention. So I got out of bed, went into the living room, sat in my reading chair and braced myself for over an hour of pure truths.

It has often been said that, the book finds you and not the other way around. I couldn't agree more and I am revelling in that saying. Better late than never. what's even better, this came at the crack of dawn on your birthday Jon.

In the days leading up to this one, one gets to ponder on exquisite questions like; what topics of discussion would we be indulging in? Or what advise would we be inspiring each other with?

Well, I need to ponder no more. The answers came to me fast and hard at the dawn of today.

As a reminder to self, here's a quick summary of the gift of The Four Agreements;

The backdrop is about limiting beliefs that we all have been "domesticated" since childhood that robs us of joy and create needless suffering.

To break the centuries old conditioning, we can practice three skills to free ourselves against  'domestication' 

1. Awareness- Practice meditation and mindfulness.

2. Forgiveness- Awareness brings forgiveness

3. Action- From forgiveness we will receive the strength to act.

Then to break all our previous self-limiting agreements, start these new Four Agreements and completely change our lives:

First : "Be Impeccable with your word."

Say only the truth and only what you mean. first to yourself and to others.

Second: "Don't take anything personally."

Understand that others words are the product of their own domesticated lives.

Third: "Don't make assumptions"

Be brave to ask questions.

Fourth: " Always do your best"

Your best will change from moment to moment.

Come to think of it, you are the embodiment of the Four Agreements above, don't you think?

I am enjoying the present, moment to moment. 

Thank you Jon. Happy Birthday.

Au Revoir.

I love you. Liberation

Suffering.

Whether you care to admit it or not. There is suffering.

https://unsplash.com/photos/PT-gOmCUlCY

The Universal symbol of Christianity is a torture instrument upon which Jesus suffered. 

The Cross is a reminder that there is suffering in this world.

All of us have our crosses to bear in this life. 

Gautama the Buddha became the awakened one by uncovering the first of his four noble truth- There is suffering. A simple and irrefutable truth that took him a lot of suffering to arrive at.

These two gentlemen went through great pain and suffering to both arrive to deliver this truth.

For each of us living this life, it is evident that it comes with pain and suffering and no one escapes this;

 “We are born astride the grave.” ~Samuel Beckett. 

"We are all dying the minute we are born. Goes fast. Don't waste it". (This dialogue quoting Beckett came from an episode of Ozarks I was watching one night.)

The way out of suffering is to let go grasping of desires. 

Desire

Desires are what make this life. 

We all have desires.

We can have desires. 

We can enjoy desires if we get them. 

We can live with desires. 

Desires arise and subside. 

Desires are impermanent but endless.

So do not be attached to desires. 

Because attachment to desire is the cause of suffering. 

"All that is subject to arising is subject to ceasing". This is wise (perfect) understanding, *according to Buddha's eightfold path.

That is all we need to know to have perfect understanding. 

When we know this we transcend suffering and achieve true liberation. 

This is what Easter, Buddhism and this post is all about. 

Transcendence to liberation. The end of suffering. 

HAPPY EASTER Everyone.