Badger and wisdom of the Serenity Prayer

When I drive along country roads what disturbs me most is seeing dead badgers, the victims of road-kill. Sometime it is a large badger and at other times it is a wee baby badger. As a lover of animals, both wild and tame, it breaks my heart to see the black and white fur of the lifeless body flying in the wind. So I went on to research about the badger and found a host of delightful information. Unlike most other animals that scamper away upon seeing an on-coming vehicle, the badger because of its primal instinct to defend chooses to fight the approaching enemy instead, in this case the approaching vehicle. Native American’s keynote description of the badger is aggressiveness and she is symbolic of bold self reliance and self expression. The badger’s other characteristics are confidence and wisdom. Because it is protective and defensive. folklore has it that when threatened the badger will bite and will not let go of its grip until it hears the victim’s bone snap. In short, the badger is a fighter. Like the badger, we are fighters. We all have what we call our personal battles and some will go to the death bed disgruntled, disappointed and unhappy because there is no closure to the battles. We have also encountered promises made and promises broken over and over again. Have you wondered why the battered wife keeps returning to the violent husband? Or why the husband keeps paying for his wife’s gambling debts? Not forgetting the countless times a parent has to cover up for his child’s errant ways by making excuses for him? We continue to fight, wishing that things will change and become better. We cling on to the hope that everything will be alright in the end and this can take many years of our lives until we have no more strength to fight anymore and our confidence and motivation begin to slowly slip away. A situation can be rebuilt or it can fall apart. Some things will change and become better, but some things will never change nor become better. We imagine that every person is a diamond in the rough. Some of us have been advised erroneously that overtime we can ‘change’ a person if we are patient and forgiving. But to me, we cannot change another person’s mindset or behaviour. Any change that needs to be done has to come from the person himself. This is where the wisdom of the Serenity Prayer comes in. This prayer by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr has been adopted by Alcoholic Anonymous and other twelve-step programmes used to address substance abuse and dependency problems. The best known form of the prayer is: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Ah, for that kind of wisdom. To accept the things I cannot change is to see things as they are and to act upon reality. When I accept the things that I cannot change, then only can I let go of the struggle and move on. I can decide what I want to do in that situation without being clouded by my own wishing for things that will not happen. This is like the badger that will fight until it is time to let go. Some things just will not work no matter how badly I wish them to. It has been often quoted that we cannot change the past but we can change the present. And the choices we make in the present will determine the outcome of the future. To change the things that I can change is to be able to make decisions about how I want to live: finding a new job, moving to another city, ending an unhealthy relationship or changing my own mindset are some examples. I enjoy Raymond Briggs’ hand drawn children’s literature because his drawings encapsulate life as it is with no trimmings. Instead of being pushed up against the wall when his wife Jean Taprell Clark was diagnosed as schizophrenic and died of leukaemia, he wrote movingly: "Schizophrenics are inspiring people. Her feelings about nature and experiences of life were very intense." This is perhaps an illustration of accepting what we cannot change and having the courage to let go. If something starts to crumble, know when to put it down and let it be. It does not require blame or justification. Source: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/badger-and-wisdom-of-the-serenity-prayer-

IT'S HARD TO SAY I'M SORRY

We were in New York on vacation and as holidays go, before long we had to catch the plane back to Ireland. So we made our way to the subway station. There were five of us with ages ranging from 18 – 56. The 18 year old had conscientiously researched and studied the routes in and out of New York whether by subway or by bus. Reaching the subway station, she announced that we had to take the Uptown train to Jamaica station in order to get to the JFK airport. Protesting vehemently the 56 year old said that we had to take the Downtown train instead. Since it is not in Asian culture to argue with an older and usually more experienced person, the 18 year old kept quiet. We would probably be heading downtown if not for a helpful American who had been observing our perplexed looks and approached us. He said, ‘To go to JFK airport, you have to go uptown. Follow me, I’m heading that way myself.’ Just before we boarded the train, I heard the 56 year say in a strong voice to the 18 year old, ‘I owe you an apology….’. I thought that was pretty cool because I seldom hear of older people apologising to younger ones especially in a parent-child relationship. In fact I have never heard my parents apologising to any of their children even if they were in the wrong. Saying sorry seems to be the hardest thing to do. Why even Elton John recorded the song ‘Sorry seems to be the hardest word’’ in 1976 and Chicago, an American rock group had a number one hit ballad in 1982 entitled ‘Hard to Say I’m Sorry’. When someone sincerely says he is sorry, I go all weak and immediately forgive the person. There is an almost instant release of a huge blockage in my soul and it is the first step towards mending the relationship. This is because I am the recipient of the apology, one of true remorse. Now the reverse is totally different when I have to apologise because it is admitting that I have made a mistake. The funny thing is we all know that we are not perfect and we make mistakes. Is it a sign of weakness when we apologise? Are we afraid that the other person may not accept our apology? Worse still, the person can accuse you of making a fake apology and there is no way you can convince him otherwise if he chooses to think so. There are also those who want you to remember the number of times you have apologised because they cannot remember if you had ever done so. There are those that feel that as long as they do not apologise they are not at fault. It is like the scene at a car accident where you have been advised not to admit that you are in the wrong even if you are the offender. Those who refuse to apologise prefer to stay in denial. They rationalise that if there is no admission of fault, then there is no need to take responsibility. You ‘lose’ if you apologise and you ‘win’ if the other person apologises. We hide behind a veneer of pride and because we lack empathy we have a hard time understanding another person’s feelings or viewpoint. Giving an apology is akin to baring the soul. We become vulnerable. Like many other learnt behaviour, apologising becomes easier through practice. When we say we are sorry, it shows that the person who has been hurt by our actions or remarks means something special to us. It means that you want to get over this obstacle that is impeding the progress of the relationship. It is being aware of your own shortcomings and taking responsibility for what you have done wrong. It is knowing that setting things right is far more important than feeling that you are right. While we wait to be convinced that we should apologise or we wait for the other person to apologise, the clock is ticking. It is the seconds, the minutes, the hours and the days that are lost while we are still nursing the hurt or struggling with our pride. I have known of people who wait for years for that apology and they are still waiting. The maxim ‘Do not let the sun go down with your anger’ is so true as how many sleepless nights are lost to those who lie on the bed fuming over callous words and who are still waiting for an apology. The sad part is that while we are still struggling to apologise, we may find the person gone the next day and we have missed out on the opportunity to say ‘I am sorry.’ Source: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/it-is-hard-to-say-i-am-sorry-1.231894

THE COMFORTING WORLD OF ROMANCE NOVELS

I have just finished reading Blue Jasmine by Violet Winspear (1969) out of curiosity and all I can say is how on earth did I find the book so mesmerizing when I was a teen? I even recommended the book to my friends and boldly declared that it was the best book ever written. But then again, it was oh, so many years ago and the book I am talking about is one of the books by Mills & Boon, a British publisher of romance novels that left me and millions of others across the globe entranced once upon a time. The characters are unreal – the heroine has such a small waist that could be easily broken by a strong arm; the hero is usually dark, handsome, rich and hails from a desert or somewhere exotic. The plot is predictable – girl meets boy, girl hates boy, girl goes through turmoil and girl realises she loves boy or vice versa. For example, standing by an oasis hoping to be carried away on a horse by a rich Bedouin, better still the heir to the empire, seems to be part of normalcy. The text is repetitive – lengthy descriptions of the physique, cyclical highs and lows and of course detailed and procedural take of the long and passionate kiss. Yet, such soppy sweetness makes the books successful. It took me quite a while to read the book although there were only 187 pages., the reason being I could not get past the first chapter and kept dozing off. So I resolved to plough through the book and I finally did it one lazy morning when I refused to get out of bed as it was still raining and it was better to be in the bed room looking out at the rain than to be in the rain looking into the bedroom. What is real about this genre is that yes there is romance and yes it is fiction; thus making it romance fiction. The growth of romance fiction hit an all time high in the 1930s to meet the growing appetite for escapism during the Depression years. I guess it is great fun to be able to escape into another world when we are younger, especially when we come from all girls’ schools. It is like a world that we carve for ourselves, to read the books in secret if authorities frown upon them and to stretch our imagination where nothing is impossible. Taken at face value, the books are light entertainment and generally harmless. But some critics have accused the writers for being misogynistic and promote poor sexual health. The more recent books I hear have sub-genres which can be more explicit in their setting and style, but nothing near E.L. James ‘50 shades of grey’, I suspect. I wonder why people enjoy romance fiction. There is no right or wrong answer. Usually it is for personal enjoyment and because there are perfect endings where true love survives all odds. With all the hard knocks that the world dishes out, it is comforting to have something secure and familiar in the corner, in this case a romance novel. Some people think that romance novels are only for the single and dateless but I do know of some readers who are well into their senior years and are very married. Some of us have recently celebrated Valentine’s Day and there was the usual hate it or love it attitude with lots of questions in between. Was it is a money churning day, to prosper some and to make paupers of others? If you love someone, why should you show it only on Valentine’s Day? If you love someone why should you not show it on Valentine’s Day? Would it not be more economical and practical to buy plastic roses instead of fresh ones? Would you be accused of being a miser and a cheapskate if you had bought plastic roses? All said and done, love and romance do not have to remain as fiction only. Like tango partners both should go hand in hand and not flourish independently. I used to see girls putting more effort into the ‘romantic’ part of a relationship but now I see that guys are doing their share too. It is not so much the gender but rather the person – how the person has been brought up and the individual’s temperament that determines how responsible, caring or loving the person is. SOURCE: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/the-comforting-world-of-romance-novels-1.223723?

IT'S THAT TIME OF THE YEAR BRIMMING WITH NOSTALGIA

JOYFUL OCCASION: Chinese New Year always brings back fond memories of childhood THIS is my third year celebrating Chinese New Year away from the familiar. It is strange, but with each Chinese New Year I am reminded of the days of my childhood where it was certainly a very significant event. Somehow festivals are more spectacular through the eyes of a child.

I remember the new clothes, the abundance of food and most of all the fireworks. On the eve of the new year, my mum would be particularly busy cooking in the kitchen or cleaning up the house. There would be no sweeping of the house on the first day of the new year to avoid sweeping off all the luck as well. I would wait excitedly for my brothers and sisters to come home for the family reunion dinner. My eldest sister-in-law would always buy new clothes for me and I liked that because she had great taste. I could not wait to try them with my new Bata shoes, socks, matching hair clips and even underwear on the first day of the Lunar New Year. Clothes were usually brightly coloured, red being the favourite as it is an auspicious colour. There was always a lot of noise and merriment within the house and on the streets as well. I lived in a shophouse smack in the middle of town. There were two shops facing each other that sold music records and competitively they blasted a continuous stream of songs from the moment they opened the doors till closing time.

The array of food was amazing -- both sweet and savoury. There were tins of biscuits and the top favourites were the pineapple jam tarts, the kuih bangkit and the love letters or kuih kapit. These were not bought from any ordinary shop, but were specially ordered from the best nyonya homemakers weeks before the new year. My dad would buy crates and crates of Frasers and Neave orange squash and he would tie a bottle cap opener to the side of one of the wooden crates because the fizzy drinks came in glass bottles. I would collect the bottle caps for a game similar to the boardgame of carom. The empty bottles had to be returned to the shop. There was also ample servings of nian-gao which is the sticky rice cake (kuih bulan) that tasted lovely when steamed and rolled in coconut or fried in an egg batter. I remember watching my mum cutting it up into slices with a string instead of a knife before steaming or frying because it was soft and gooey. As for the savoury delicacies, there was a lovely array of assorted meats and vegetables. Whatever was left over from the family reunion dinner was reheated and somehow the latter tasted better. There were yearly treats like braised abalone (New Moon brand), thick succulent mushrooms, waxed duck and sausages. Dessert was usually canned longans or lychees. Sometimes I had sweet creamed taro or pumpkin, a typical Teochew dessert. The fireworks or firecrackers were amazing. I would rush to the window to see my neighbours hanging out long strings of firecrackers tied to bamboo poles. To a child, if the length of the firecrackers was very long, it meant that the family was rich. I enjoyed the explosion part when the last part of the firecrackers was fired, signifying the end of it all. There were torrents of visitors especially when my sister was a teacher. My sisters and I had great fun ogling the teenage male students who came to our open house, especially if they were handsome. We would also go visit our friends, usually in a group and the agenda for the day was to eat, talk and collect ang-pows. The best part was the ang pows that I received or red paper packets with money inside. As long as I was not married I was entitled to ang pows from my parents and relatives. Then I would plan to spend a bit of the money and keep the rest. Along the way we might catch lion dance performances and we would stop to watch the agile lions prance around and be mesmerised by the drums and cymbals clashing in unison. Most of all I enjoyed all the chatting. When the sisters and brothers got together, there was a never ending stream of topics to discuss. We could also get away with mischief because parents were not supposed to scold their children, at least for the first day. The television would be continuously on as well as my parents liked to watch Hong Kong or Taiwanese entertainment shows that featured new year songs. Normally by the fourth day of Chinese New Year I would have to go back to school. As I cycled to school, the major roads in town would be crimson red as they were covered with paper bits from the firecrackers. In my school bag, there would be pineapple jam tarts and Frasers and Neave orange squash. Then we would ask each other how much ang pow we had received and we could not wait for school to be over so we could rush back home again to continue the celebrations. Chinese New Year lasts for 15 days and to a child that is heaven. Happy Chinese New Year to one and all.

Source: It's that time of the year brimming with nostalgia - Columnist - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/it-s-that-time-of-the-year-brimming-with-nostalgia-1.215917#ixzz2KTsKD8Dy

IS IT A MALE THING TO SKIP PARENT-TEACHER MEETINGS?

THE last parent-teacher meeting that I went to recently was indeed my last parent-teacher meeting. Finally, my youngest will be leaving school soon and entering university. So, having to sit on both sides of the table so to speak (being a parent and also a lecturer before), what were my sentiments about this annual face-to-face discussion? As a parent, I have always been proud of my children, celebrating their strengths and helping them deal with their weaknesses. I know which child is book-smart, which child is street-smart and which child is both book- and street- smart. I have all three specimens.

Thus, even though I can predict what the teachers are going to say, I enjoy listening to what they have to say. Their comments would have a 99.9-per cent accuracy about what my children are capable of. To me, they are affirmations of the way the children have been brought up. So, when I received a text message from the school saying that it was that time of the year again, I was excited and asked Audrey, my youngest, to list down all the names of the subject teachers so I would know which ones I should meet. Michael, my better half, on the other hand asked: "Do I have to go?" He had been there last year and he suspected that the teachers' comments this year would be somewhat similar. I said: "It is entirely up to you." Then, I wondered whether it is a male thing or an Irish thing that mothers are the ones who normally go to parent-teacher meetings and the presence of the occasional father is a welcome sight. I get a very nice feeling when I hear teachers speak well of my child and of course, a queasy feeling in my tummy if a child disappoints. When I come home and relate to the child all the accolades that the teachers had mentioned, the child's self-esteem grows. If I tell the child the areas that he needs to improve, he knows that he has understanding and support from his parent. This is all very positive and full of good vibes, but why do mothers seem to show more interest in this field? Having said that, I see many of the male species at funerals, wakes and memorials. Often enough, Michael would receive a text that so-and-so has passed away. The text would come in the morning, noon or evening, or even when we are on holiday. People seem to make it a point to inform you that someone has passed away. So, if there is a lull for a while, I would cheekily ask him, "Has anyone died recently? It's so quiet around here".

Whether you are a friend or a relative or an acquaintance, you are "expected to show your face" at the wake, the funeral or the memorial. I understand that it is a show of respect or the "done thing" in a rural community in Ireland, but then again, I wonder if too much emphasis is given to tradition and social mores while the living struggle to communicate and show love to one another.

Frank McCourt captures the obsession with death beautifully in Angela's Ashes: "The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or the Faith." The day came and I saw scores of mothers lining up to see the teachers. As usual, some mothers took a long time talking to the teachers so the rest of us had to wait. While waiting, the mothers started talking to each other and for me, it was the first time that I had met them even though their children had come to my home. I was the only Asian mother in the room, so when I went up to a teacher, it was not rocket science to know who my child was. One teacher even commented that I looked exactly like my daughter. Every teacher had something excellent to say and told me how proud I am to have Audrey as my daughter. I said: "Yes, I am". (Again, I was told later that the "accepted humble response" would be to laugh and say something like "If only she were half as good at home.") By the time the meeting was over, it was cold and dark and I walked home with the husband who knew the wife well enough to understand that the response "it is up to yourself" concerning going to the meeting was actually "I would love you to go or else."

Source- New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/is-it-a-male-thing-to-skip-parent-teacher-meetings-1.208349#ixzz2JCCpHgai

Parents must know when to turn off the tap

My husband was out walking our Labrador the other day and saw a group of students by the road. One of the girls exclaimed. ‘Make way for the guide dog’. When he related the story to me, I had a good laugh because he was neither blind nor was our dog a guide dog. Irish guide dogs, usually Labradors, help people who are blind or vision impaired and families of children with autism enjoy greater mobility and independence. In short they give support and help ensure a better quality of life. That set me thinking about parental financial support – how much to give and when to stop. As parents, we are committed to provide all sorts of support including the financial basics of boarding and education until the young person has the age and determination to fully depend upon himself. This is usually very much influenced by how we have been brought up ourselves. In most Asian cultures we are brought up to be filial, that is, to care for our parents once we start working. We give a portion of our pay packets to our parents proudly and they receive it happily knowing that their children have grown up to be independent and responsible. We do that on a monthly basis or yearly basis, whichever is convenient. Likewise, I have ingrained that principle in my children so they know when they will not need to rely on parental financial aid. Once the eldest child has set the example, the others will follow quite easily. So when my son finished his tertiary exams, we had a family conference to work out when he will no longer withdraw from my bank account. Although the topic was a serious one, we had great fun modelling the slant of the discussion after the game show Deal or No Deal.

For doting and wealthy parents, the boundaries of supporting a child financially and being a crutch are blurred. In counselling, examples where the casualties of parental financial support have gone amiss abound. Excessive support when parents jump in to help out financially can lead to young people wrestling with issues like dependency, lack of confidence, low self-reliance, immaturity or irresponsibility from constant rescuing. When I was contemplating selling off my house, someone ‘advised’ me that I should leave it to my son to help him with a ‘head start’ because prices of houses were soaring in Kuala Lumpur and it would be almost impossible for him to get landed property, maintain an expensive lifestyle, get an imported car and get married. I was taken aback because I remembered I worked up the corporate ladder with no shortcuts and I believe that hard earned money builds character. My reply to her suggestion was the price of education was my gift to my children and that already was a head start. I see financial support as secondary parental support that must be withdrawn at a certain time. It is when the parent must resist the heart’s desire to keep on giving so that the young person is challenged to function independently. This would be very difficult for the parent and the young person in question if primary support had not been built in the first place. Primary support is the love, the listening, the encouraging, and the undivided attention given in order to maintain an enduring emotional attachment. In a larger life context, this shift of dependence and independence comes into reversal when the parent goes older and becomes more dependent on the child. The parent will become less self-reliant and may increasingly call on grown children for more secondary support. It is at this point that we see hopefully the commitment of the independent child towards us.

Source:http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/parents-must-know-when-to-turn-off-the-tap-1.200406

Success is not measured by money alone

I HAVE just come back from a talk at Mallow Street Hall in Limerick where the speaker, Brian Gault, from the Isle of Man shared about his life. What struck me was his attitude towards life and its challenges despite the fact that he was born with no hands, yes, no hands, being the victim of the Thalidomide disaster. Thalidomide is a sedative drug introduced in the late 1950s that was used to treat morning sickness and to aid sleep. It was sold from 1957 until 1961, when it was withdrawn after being found to be a teratogen, a substance that causes birth defects. Brian did not just remain a victim of a mistake. At a young age, he learnt how to use his legs and toes for most of the tasks that we carry out with our hands. He had to suffer the looks and unkind taunts of other children. But he developed into a remarkable young man, full of personality. The best part was together with his wife, May, Brian went on to carry out charitable work among other Thalidomide victims in Brazil, a life of service to others. To me, a life of service to others is my definition of success. Success is doing the things that I perceive are valuable to myself and beneficial to others. It is a strange phenomenon where the more you give, the more you receive. However, to many others, success equals the first million dollars made. That reminds me of a conversation I had with well-meaning friends who were discussing their children's success stories.

As a number of our children are doctors, inevitably we talked about what makes a successful doctor. I could sum up the conversation as: a successful doctor is one who makes a lot of money, one who leaves the home country to work in another country because of a lucrative salary and one who chooses to specialise in an area, for example plastic surgery, that would surely bring in loads of money. I wonder how many parents actually encourage their children to give back to society and use their professions to do charitable deeds. I remember when my eldest daughter asked me for advice concerning her posting to a hospital to do her housemanship. I advised her to go to a place where doctors were scarce and medical facilities were lacking. In short, I was telling her to go where there was a need instead of city hospitals that were overcrowded with intern doctors. To other parents, I sounded weird and uncaring. When she was actually posted to a far-flung corner of the country, concerned parents came to sympathise with me. The best part was she was actually happy. Epicurus, the Greek philosopher said: "It is not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance". Success is experiencing intangibles, such as the ability to make a difference, to feel a sense of accomplishment and to maintain a desirable balance between the world out there and the world within. This to me eclipses the size of a pay cheque. If we do not define our own meaning of success then we are caught in the socially programmed default settings of success, which usually means money. When Brian ended the talk by autographing his book with his toes and proclaiming that he is wonderfully made, despite the birth defect, I felt something move within me. In two days' time, we will embrace a new year. This is a good time for looking back to the past and also forward to the coming year. As with every new year, we make resolutions and break them or faithfully try to keep them. It is a good time to reflect on the changes we want or need to make. I will have to sit down and think through what I would want to do in 2013 -- for myself, my family and all those that I come in contact with.

Read more: Success not measured by money alone - Columnist - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/success-not-measured-by-money-alone-1.193259#ixzz2GXPV3ing Source: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/success-not-measured-by-money-alone-1.193259