There was a time, when asked who one was; the average man will call out the names of his families or the community he belongs. Post-industrialization society had changed. Once, the household was the productive unit of society. We learned, we grown, we survived in it. But today, the household is a consumption unit. We go out to work; we bring home our produces and spent it on the home. Thus materialism is born.

Quite unfortunate if you asked me.

But the fact is that this social change is irreversible. The question is: how do we find our identity in this new whole order? Where once we had a life, now we have two, a private one and a separate one which are totally unrelated to each other.

When asked who I am, I don’t cite my community anymore. I cite my individual beliefs, my individual affiliations, my individual achievements. Individualism is here. Is it healthy? I don’t know. I only know we have to constantly strive to identify ourselves where once, my identity is assured by our communities. We are constantly evaluated now. It’s tiring. Depression cases are up. What can I do?

I remembered loving to write. And composition was my favorite activity in primary school. I wondered why. But as I reflect upon it now, I seemed to understand now that I wanted power. And the power to create stories is one of the most powerful things a child can ever do. The potential is limitless.

I devoured books with an appetite that astonished many. Sometimes even myself. But I love literature. I can appreciate the art, but fundamentally, I crave for the power of written words. And as my desire grew, I started to harbor dreams of becoming a writer.

Alas, that dream took its first blow when I was in secondary school. I wanted so much to study literature. My school had offered the English Language and English Literature as different subjects. I remembered excelling in Literature but doing badly in English. I was made to drop Literature. I was angry.

But I did not lose hope; I switch my attention to the Chinese Language. And I scored distinctions in my Chinese. My essays were much appreciated by my Chinese Teachers. But eventually, I learnt that in Singapore, only the Chinese Teachers appreciate good Chinese essays.

It was then that I turned my attention to Mathematics. Weird? Not to me. I read the symbols of mathematics like a language. It intrigued me. Logically analysis of number patterns and behaviors aroused me. And I ended up as a Mathematic Teacher.

But still, my dreams of writing lingers. And then there was blogging. And I blog. It became an avenue for me to express my literacy creations. I desire that power of words again. But over time, I evolved. I recognized clearly that I may never achieve the linguistic ability to become a true novelist. But a writer need not always be a novelist as I thought in my younger years.

I take heart from literature giants such as Leo Tolstoy and Victor Hugo and decided that the only writing worthy of the effort that I exert must contain moralistic value. Hence, I write to encourage, not only the readers, but myself. To reflect, recollect and revolute my being and thought processes. I write to inspire and to create the more powerful of power, that of the power of hope. And so I try to write to bring happiness. And I write on regardless of language artistry. That is noble writing.

“I have profound reverence for you, I would never dare treat you with disparagement or arrogance. Why? Because you are all practicing the bodhisattva way and are certain to attain Buddhahood.” ~ Bodhisattva Never Disparaging

Years after my first encounter with this musical, I revisit it today. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. The charm of Snow-Wolf-Lake is its simplicity in the story-telling. Nothing complicated, just your average tragic romantic tale. But therein, the charm, for simple is beautiful.

There are a couple of themes in the story that is worth highlighting though. There was the obvious demonstration on the ills of the social economic divide. When I read elsewhere that the world actually produced enough food to sustain the entire global population, yet there are people starving, I cannot help feeling angry at the injustice. It is not famine that it causing starvation, it is poverty! And that is because of the uncompassionate reality of economic divide and materialism. I must fight materialism!

Another theme is imprisonment. When the main character Wolf was imprison, I cannot help but feel that it is not the physical imprisonment that is causing his suffering, it is the spiritual imprisonment. And spiritual imprisonment leads to the loss of hope. And that is a hellish existence. In our society today, it is all too easy to have our spirituality imprisoned. We are highly vulnerable to influences from dogmas and perverted advertising. Our consciousness is bombarded with undesirables clutter every minute. But we must stand firm. And cherish hope. Always cherish hope.

And there is of course love. And love of the rich man and his unwilling bride is pity-worthy; the love of the sister is tragic; and the loves of the lead characters are bittersweet. Ultimately, love is a powerful emotion that cannot be tame and cannot be controlled. This is the reason why life can be so colorful. And life is meant to be tasted in its full splendor and glory.

Dear A,

How do I begin to tell this story? I think I will begin by congratulating you for your solemnization ceremony. I regret to inform you that I will not be able to attend it. Having got that formal wishes out, let me begin by recollecting my first memory of you.

I remembered a tiny, skinny girl, running about the Charlton Park, and emitting sharp irritating burst of giggles periodically. I hated that. Yet I was charmed by how much joy she can generate, entertaining herself and her friends with simple childish games. I would sit by the side shyly, quite unsure whether I should participate in the games or not. I was generally moody all through my childhood and didn’t seem to belong. I choose to sit with the adults after some deliberation and listened to their debate on philosophy eventually.

Years passed. I chiseled myself for my lack of courage month after month. I wanted to be engulfed by that joyful laughter, yet I failed each time. I became old before my time I guessed.

As we entered our teenage years, my perceptions went into chaos. I would scream and tease and simply bully my way to get any kind of attention, mostly in vain. I recalled attending a meeting. I had forgotten what and where. But I remembered walking past an opened window with some members already chanting and she caught my eyes immediately. That was the skinny girl all grown up. The image of her chanting intensely with her signature sunglasses on her head doubling as hair band overwhelmed my mind. This image lasted till today and I expect it to continue to my deathbed.

From hence on, I began to perform some outrageous deeds. I attempted to participate more during discussion meetings hoping she would cast her glance my way. When I learnt her address eventually, I remembered rushing off from school at least once a week to camp at the bus-stop opposite her flat hoping to see her walk home from school which she did. It was of no consequences that I was supposed to be preparing for my O-levels that year. I did so week after week. And if I did succeed in watching her from afar for that week, it would be the highlight that had me grinning like an idiot in class. And never once had I the courage to approach her to express my feelings. I waited. Until the Charlie Chaplin incident.

I acted as Charlie Chaplin in a cultural item. And when I learnt her flattering reviews of my performance, my hormones went into overdrive. I finally asked her out. We dated for a while before she decided that we were not meant to be. I remember the enormous pain of heartbreak. It was almost unbearable. But we were young. We were not ready to handle relationships. Our outlooks were childish. Yet, I remember fondly at least, that the feeling was genuine. They are worthy memories.

Years passed. And we grew up and learn to love others. I fell in love again and had another relationship that lasted 4 years. You had your own stories too. Time diluted the pain of parting. We eventually began talking again, and freely. I may not always confide directly to you. But it is true that over the years, whenever I’m feeling down, I would attempt to have a causal conversation with you. And each time, you never fail to lift my spirits. You may not explicitly know it but you were there when I had my occasional quarrels with C; You were there when I was coming to terms with my father surrendering to the law; You were there when I was struggling with my responsibilities as a warrior for kosen-rufu; You were there when I was disappointed with what I learnt about our educational system while studying at NIE; And I must add that you did play a part in my decision to become an educator. I thank you.

To be honest, you are not the only woman I loved. I had love another girl after you and will love others again in the future. But I think I can safely say that you were the first to affect my heart in ways I never knew.

Your mum ever commented to me that I had unconsciously placed you on a pedestal and it made you uncomfortable at times. I admit that I did that. But I add now that I did that very consciously indeed. To me, you are nothing less than a truly wonderful human being. And you remained there on that pedestal today, as you prepare yourself to become someone else’s bride. Congratulations once again on your massive step into the next phrase of your life. And from the bottom of my heart, I pray for your happiness and will always keep a lookout for you with the pride and love of an angel.

Yours, Ra

The week-long term break is drawing to a close soon, and once again, I feel that the break is simply insufficient. But society is so competitive now that too much rest is deemed criminal. How unfortunate!

I did mention some time back that I will review the book “Many Lives, Many Masters” by Dr Brian Weiss. So here goes:

In a nutshell, this book reconfirmed my personal belief in the existence of reincarnation. That said, I firmly believe that the story in the book is not all factual despite the author’s claim. However, I am agreeable to the idea that the story is based on events that did happened.

Dr Weiss’s dilemma is true when he began to tell the extraordinary story of how his and his patient’s concept of death is thoroughly altered. And his telling will meet many obstacles because of the deeply engraved traditions of the Christian beliefs among the English-speaking world. That is why I think his language and telling had been seriously edited so that it will be easier to digest for the said group. But Buddhists and Hindus will have no problem accepting his arguments and tally them with their own perspectives.

A good read nonetheless, although personally, I was expecting more and was slightly disappointed. But the attempt to dispel the fear of death among the readers is truly admirable and I salute the effort.

Alright, back to the present again. I am juggling “Musashi” by Eiji Yoshikawa and “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” simultaneously. Damn the holidays. I started it ambitiously but have my doubts about being able to complete them before the week is up.

Got an email stating that I may have a change of classes when the school resumes. Feeling a bout of resistance as I felt that I had connected with my current batch of students and harbors the desire to really see them through till graduation. But alas, the deciding power is not with me. I should have to wait and see.

The curtains for my very first Teachers Day as a full-fledged educator are finally drawing to a close as I prepare to retire to bed for the night. The night is a wonderful for reflection. And I believe I had done alright as a beginning teacher thus far and is rather satisfied with the work that I’d done.

I spend the day resting.

My thumb is numb though. The school’s SWC organized a bowling session for the staff yesterday which I participated. It had been a long time since I last bowled and the muscles in my arm made their silent complain to me vividly. But I was rather pleased with myself for winning 3 trophies last night and achieving a personal best of 178 points for a single game. The dinner was delightful too. The staffs here are truly fun-loving. I am honestly thankful for that.

On a side note, someone found my wallet and returned it. I am seriously grateful. Although I had made the loss reports, I still very much prefer my old wallet back. There are more than just the cards and cash in that wallet.

Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.