WITH LIGHT THE DARKNESS CANNOT REMAIN

Now that summer is coming to an end, we will soon miss the sun that blazes through the sky for days on end and sets only after 10pm. During summer, the whole atmosphere is electric and everyone seems to have a sudden burst of energy. We are all too happy to hang up the bulky coats and put on shorts and t-shirts instead. Colours are vibrant, the grass is greener and the sheep look happier. We even rush out to buy the table fan when the heat threatens to be unbearable.

However, when it is winter and snow is like a soft white blanket in my backyard, I lament the possibility of not seeing the sun again. I get this feeling all the time, as if winter will last forever and I am permanently locked in a climate that will not change.

Strange but true.

Maybe it is because summer and winter  are poles apart. With Spring and Autumn the transition is more gradual. Cherry blossoms in Spring are quickly blown away as Summer’s warm clime heralds. As for Autumn, the  rich golden hues and falling leaves prepare us for Winter. We are so busy sweeping the leaves away, we hardly notice that tree branches are becoming bare.

What is it with the human brain that when we get accustomed to something  good or bad , we seem to think that it will become a permanent state? The mind is easily tricked by what it sees for a relatively long period of time.

Everything on earth is transient. They say that time flies when you are having fun. We are also well aware that misery loves company and when it comes to misfortune, it not only rains but pours.

Yet we have seen it many times that both good and bad experiences come and go.

It is just that when we are in the thick  of it, we think that it is permanent.  Going through a rough patch will leave anyone brow beaten. Much has been written on this topic and the usual response to overcoming difficult times is to analyse the problem, seek possible solutions, communicate, forgive and most of all learn not to blame yourself. This whole process may take months or years but it is comforting to know that tomorrow can be a better day.

Sometime ago, PIETA House (Preventing Suicide and Self Harm) organised a Darkness into Light walk. Starting at 4:15am and crossing the line just as dawn was breaking, the annual 5 km walk with 80 venues across Ireland and beyond,  celebrated its 7^th year.

I thought the walk was very symbolic.  Darkness which can be very intimidating and overpowering cannot remain forever when light breaks through.

There are so many of us who have experienced difficult seasons and great seasons in  life.  It has been said that beautiful paths could not have been discovered unless we are lost.

Catherine Fisher, writer of Incarceron  illustrates this in the Songs of Sapphique,

“I have walked a stair of swords,
I have worn a coat of scars.
I have vowed with hollow words,
I have lied my way to the stars...”

I rejoice when I  know someone finally has a breakthrough. It could be a bad habit or a limiting circumstance but to actually see a friend emerge victorious is great happiness. The humble person is one who has known defeat and pain and yet has found his way out of the depths.

I like this inspirational quotation that I have seen: Everything in life is temporary. So if things are going well, enjoy them because they won’t last forever. And if things are going bad, don’t worry, they can’t last forever either.

How true.

'

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES  2 AUGUST 2015

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2015/09/light-darkness-cannot-remain

 http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150802nstnews/index.html#/23/

SIMILAR BUT YET SO DISTINCT

Whenever a significant  day arrives, the beloved will say, ‘I don’t know what to get for you, so this is a token of my love. I hope you’ll like it.’

That reminds me of a sequence of events. The last time I asked him to buy product X, it was around the date of my birthday and so he said it was a gift and I didn’t have to reimburse him. Then around December  last year, I needed product X again and asked him to buy it for me. Coincidentally, it was Christmas time, so he said it was a gift again.

As with all important days, another one made its round again this year.

My mind started to work like clockwork.

Using the techniques of deduction, association and repetition, I reasoned that I would help him out again in the purchase of a useful gift. I asked him to buy product X  and  then I waited. But I was wrong. This time round however, it was not a gift,  I had to pay for it.

Now where did I go wrong?

We tend to forget that men and women are wired differently.

For a moment, I had clearly disregarded the possibility that women are from Inner Space  and men are from Outer Space.  Simply put, ‘Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus’ according to John Gray.

By inner space, I mean we do quite a fair bit of thinking, mulling and gelling  (being mentally in-sync with someone). There is perfectly no empty box in the brain and if someone were to attach some electrodes to it at any one time, I am sure the female brain will light up at all angles, like a laser beam show.

By outer space, I mean being absolutely clueless. Maybe that sounds a bit harsh, but I am sure after the years of chipping and honing, they actually do ‘cop-on’.

A good illustration is the hunter-gatherer concept.

Hunter-gather is an anthropological term used to describe human beings who obtain their food from the bounty of nature, hunting animals and gathering wild plants. The hunter seeks solutions and attempts to provide. Scientists find that differences between genders are deeply rooted to the days when men were hunters in the wild and women were gatherers rearing children in the ring-fort. These different roles and settings pushed men and women to evolve different hormonal balances and distinct brain structures.

Not that one is better than the other.

The beauty of it really is that they complement each other and they are supposed to bond effectively. Like magnets, opposite poles attract, so try separating two bars of magnets that are stuck together. I find that every time I ask someone of the opposite sex for help, I have never been disappointed. A punctured tyre will be fixed and a damsel in distress looking for directions will be shown the intended route she needs to go.

To work effectively together takes time. What more with the opposite sex who is utterly different from who we are. But then again, it is not impossible. Strangely enough, sometimes boundaries blur.

Take for instance, the general assumption that women go berserk at sales. I find that because I am a planner and like to maximise my waking hours, I can go into a shopping mall and within minutes get exactly what I need and move on, instead of spending time window shopping and browsing. I can see a ‘Sale’ sign and not be in a hurry to buy anything. In fact, I would prefer to shop during the off-sale season when there are no crowds, no messy piles of clothing and no queues. I can also be assured that whatever size or pattern that I prefer would be available.

Men too can become more intuitive. The beloved can now look at my non-verbal gestures and know that something is wrong without my having to explain it verbally.

But it is good to step back now and again and know and appreciate differences.

He may not have employed the techniques of deduction, association and repetition but he did get me a lovely gift on the said occasion, far better than I had ever imagined.

I’ll keep him on.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES 19 JULY 2015

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2015/09/similar-yet-so-distinct

http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150719nstnews/index.html#/23/

LITTLE TREATS WITH BIG REWARDS

Sometime ago, I told myself to do something brave whenever I turned a year older. I am not talking about bungee jumping or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, as I would not have a heart or mind strong enough for either. Instead it is one of the little treats that you have always wanted to pamper yourself with but never got around to it.

So I went to the hair salon.

Normally I would just nip in and out for a quick trim but this time I sat there patiently for three hours armed with a good book and a small flask of hot Ipoh White coffee.

Ah, treats! The joy of having one. Truth be told, the woman  usually puts others first before themselves – the husband, the child, the mother or the father. So for a change, she is doing something for herself. It is lovely when the carer is being cared for.

Parents are strange creatures.

Maybe not all, but I am certainly one who has no qualms about saving and spending millions on my children’s education or well being but when it comes to having an occasional splash on myself, I think twice or even thrice. I evaluate and re-evaluate. I find excel spread sheets, the law of diminishing returns and a whole gamut of economic theories flash before my eyes all at one go. Now that the children are grown, I have learnt to go ahead and do that something for myself or buy something that might cost a little.

That got me thinking, when was the last time we treated ourselves to something flippant and harmless, something that we had been thinking about for a while?

Like buying a whole 8 inch pavlova with summer fruits and eating it up all by yourself over a few days? I did just that once and felt so greedily good (although I did promise myself to go the gym after that and whether I went or not did not matter).

Little treats act as good therapy. I certainly recommend this and it beats paying money to lying on the couch and having someone listen to your problems, that is, if he is actually listening at all.

An Irish writer whom I met once said he decided to see a therapist because he was feeling low. He divulged all his problems and the therapist answered with words like…….Umm, Ahh, I see and What do you think you should do? The writer went away thinking that it would have been better if he had remained home, kept the money and talked to the mirror instead. I thought that was funny.

So back to the hair salon.

In between sipping the coffee and poring over the pages, I observed the other customers.

Everyone seemed to know everyone. Regulars, I thought. They had their hair cut, teased, blown, washed and shaped in curlers, clips and some other contraptions.

I found myself having to sit for a short while under a hot dome-like hair dryer, like a potato being roasted to perfection, but I did not mind at all, because I knew in the hands of a professional, I would turn out, well, perfect!

The things that ladies go through for the sake of beauty.

When it was all done, I walked home feeling a million bucks. Then I waited for the beloved’s reaction. He looked. He stared. And then he finally let go of one word,

Wow.

Not too bad for a flaming red head, I thought.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES : 5 JULY 2015

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2015/09/little-treats-big-rewards

 http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150705nstnews/index.html#/23/

What's In a Willow?

My first willow basket

The first time I heard the mention of the word  ‘willow’ was from a sentimental British favourite, The Wind in the Willows written by Kenneth Grahame. It is a story steeped in nostalgia, much inspired by a father’s love for his only son.

If anything, willow reminds me of  things past. Like the abovementioned story, it evokes a sense of nostalgia, of earthliness, of humble beginnings. Willow trees are prevalent in folklore and myths. In the ‘Secret of Salix Babylonicus,’ a story of healing and hope by Timothy Matthew Slemmons,  the willow is a symbol of perseverance. 

I was sauntering along the walkway leading to the Sunday market when I saw a fine display of willow baskets and wigwams. Every piece had a character of its own and being handmade it had an aura of artisan craftsmanship. I may be biased but the shades and textures of willow far surpass cane or bamboo.

                                               Pete showing me how to weave

There are many things that I have learned and can learn on-line, but weaving is certainly something that I would have to learn hands-on. I needed someone to teach me and imagine my delight when I discovered that I could sign up for classes in this ancient craft under the guidance of an expert basket maker, Pete. 

Without hesitation, I did just that and found myself spending a whole day learning how to weave baskets out of willow rods. Even as I held the rods in my hands I could see the many similarities about life’s truths between the willow and us.

                                                 Willow, dried and steamed 

                                                  Surrounded by willow at Mount Shannon

Willows are often planted on the borders of streams so their interlacing roots may protect the bank against the action of the water. There is this symbiotic relationship of two natural elements that is of ecological importance. It speaks to me of the geographical location that we are in – why are we placed in a certain town or city or country? Do our lives make a difference to the setting that we are in or are we so preoccupied with my own wants and needs that we do not go beyond the four walls of our home?

From the master weaver, I learnt that willow rods are soaked and heated in a steam box to make them pliant and easy to handle. Like the willow rods, we have undergone many of life’s experiences that have moulded us into who we are and hopefully better beings.

In the process of weaving, I used some tools like a pair of secateurs and a bodkin.

The secatuers are used to trim the rod ends, to cut off unnecessary parts of the rods and also to split rods. The bodkin on the other hand is a pointed tool used for separating the weave, to produce a gap between the rods so that another rod can go through. At intermittent intervals, I also used a mallet to hammer down the woven parts so that the basket will be more compact and strong.

The final test for a good and sturdy basket is to actually stand on it. If the basket collapses, that means it was not properly woven in the first place.

Pete testing my willow basket

Imagine our characters being ‘trimmed’ and ‘prodded’ by secatuers and bodkins and ‘hammered’ down by a mallet before being ‘stepped upon’ like the basket.

Can we stand the honing process and are we made of more?

It is said that age generally mellows a person but having said that, there are people who have grown old and yet remain nasty.

I find that the kindest and most humble people are those who have experienced great difficulties in life and survived. These are the people who have ridden on the waves of storms and emerged strong.

The process is painful but the end product is rather admirable. When we undergo difficult moments ourselves, then only can we empathise with those who are in similar situations.

Now that I have learnt how to make willow baskets, I will never look at a basket the same way again.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES  21.6. 2015
 http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150621nstnews/index.html#/23/

William Butler Yeats and I

When I was in Innisfree, County Sligo, I was determined to have a peek at the lake made famous by William Butler Yeats in his poem the ‘Lake Isle at Innisfree’.

Now I have this sudden urge to visit the same county again, oftentimes known as Yeats Country because this summer marks 150 years since Yeats was born.

                                             Lake Isle of Innisfree in the background

As is befitting a legend and a Nobel Prize winner for literature in 1923, this commemorative year boasts of nationwide events with the highlight being Yeats day (June 11 – 14). On the international arena for this year, his works are also enjoyed and shared in Moscow, London, Washington, Rio and Beijing.

For us who love literature and poetry, this celebrative extravaganza is a sure delight.

How many of us have aspired to write a novel or have a poem immortalised on a wall of fame? Alas, in my search for similarities between Yeats and I,  I find great humour in the trivial.

Take for example, when Yeats cooked sausages to celebrate the news that he had won the Nobel Prize. The Full Irish breakfast is not the same without sausages. I have heard of elderly ladies  smuggling sausages across international borders (when on vacation) for their loved ones just like how some of us would also do the same for Malaysian delicacies. Frying sausages for breakfast is something of an enjoyable routine to me. The whole kitchen being awashed with the fragrance of hot piping sausages bursting through the skin is something to die for. Unlike Yeats, I don’t think I’ll ever get that infamous ‘You’ve won the Nobel Prize’ phone call.

There were also several people who fired Yeats’ passion.

His ideology about life took several different turns as he grew older. I guess that happens to us as well. It would be most strange to find static characters whose mindsets have not been challenged or developed. His poems too became more symbolic and complex as the years went on. I remember having had a hard time as an undergraduate comprehending ‘Second Coming’ and answering questions on his concepts of the supernatural and eternity. The fact that his poems also carried political themes did not help as we would need to be well acquainted with Irish politics.

Yeats also mentioned the ‘nine bean rows’ that he would have on the Lake Isle of Innisfree. The last time I counted I had six bean rows in my garden. Whether Yeats ever had a penchant for gardening, I do not know. What I know is he did mention beans in that poem and that is as good as saying that we are both into beans.

I am empowered by one of Yeats’ quotes - “think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people”. I have never been so immersed in a society as I do now…..mixing with people from all walks of life. Prior to coming to Ireland, my circle of friends comprised  mainly of the academia and the church. I would surely need the wisdom of Solomon to make sense of this present mingling.

Yeats also had a close circle of friends and family members as well as creative people who impacted his life. I would like to think that I too have the same. It is so true that iron sharpens iron and like minds nourish each other. Great friends are those that you make at any stage of your life and keep them.

Yeats died on January 28, 1939 in a room overlooking the Mediterranean at Cap Martin on the French Riviera. It took almost a decade and two funerals (with  the Second World War in – between) before his remains were finally brought back to Ireland. Rumours have it that it might not have been his body either, possibly Alfred Hollis, an Englishman who died around the same time and was buried beside him in the same French cemetery.

Great people do have a touch of mystery that sets them apart, even in death.

 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES  7.6. 2015  http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150607nstnews/index.html#/23/

Oh, To Be Young Again! (Or Not)

When I asked a little girl how old she was, she said ten and a half. I smiled knowing that at one time too, halves and three quarters made all the difference to our ages. Somehow we could not wait to grow up, in short to be an adult. Even the song Sixteen Going On Seventeen in the Sound of Music soundtrack echoes the same desire.

It is all very confusing.

Children can’t wait to become teens. Then you have the awkward age where you are neither a child nor a teen and you become  a ‘tween’. We also have teens who can’t wait to become adults and will try to dress and behave like their pop idols.

Through the eyes of a child, the teenage or adult world certainly seems more fun : staying up late, less parental supervision, being heard , going places or maybe even experimenting with make up. Certainly there are many things that an adult can do but a child can’t.

And then the birthdays roll by.

Before long people stop asking you how old you are because that has become a sensitive area. We no longer put numerous candles on the birthday cake. In fact, every year we just have one symbolic candle.

In a classic movie called Big starring Tom Hanks, a 12 year old boy made a wish at a carnival machine and became a 30 year old overnight. As movies go, he managed to become 12 again before the reel ran out. Near the end of the movie, there was a scene where he asked his girlfriend in the adult world whether she would like to go back in time with him to being a 12 year old again. 

Her answer was “No. I've been there before.  It's hard enough the first time.”

My sentiments exactly.

If a fairy godmother gave me a wish to be ten, twenty or thirty years younger, I would politely decline the offer even if that meant an 18 inch waist and flawless porcelain skin.

We evolve from being teased as the sweet young thing or the most desirable hunk to being called ma’am, aunty, uncle or ‘pak cik’ and ‘mak cik’. We are secretly happy when the shop keeper calls us ‘langloi’ (pretty lady) or ‘langchai’ (handsome guy), terms usually reserved for the younger set, even though we are aware that he uses the same term for almost any potential customer in order to get the person to buy something from his stall.

So, what age is the best age for living?

I feel that it is the time of your life where you feel very contented with yourself. You can be the child with all the attention focussed on you. There is the baby book when every milestone is recorded: the first step, the first haircut, the first word.

You can be the promising young adult whose school year book has a brilliant display of photos that highlight amazing feats: the school sports champion, the national orator, the best academic performance.

You can be the professional who has just landed on a great job and has bought a house or a car.

Or it can be that age when you feel secure because you are proud of who you are. You no longer need to compare yourself with others and are not worried about what others think about you. It is when you know the difference between what really matters and what seems to matter and you make choices and stand by them.

When I visited my friend Sarita on her birthday, I found her sitting most resplendently in her beautiful and well manicured garden. I think every birthday is special because it reminds us that the beauty of living is that you have lived and are still living life to the fullest.

Every moment counts. There is nothing like living in the now.

 THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES   http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150524nstnews/index.html#/22/    24/5/2015 

Feeling like I'm at Home Again

Every now and again I meet up with Malaysians in this part of the world. The first reaction is that of surprise as there are not many of us around here and the next is noticing the unmistakable trademark –  the Malaysian identity that surpasses everything. We are no longer defined by psychological barriers like race, religion or class status. Instead we are all countrymen united by some form of camaraderie in a different land.

I first talked to Sham (Shamzuri) Hanifa in 2010 over the phone after watching an interesting documentary aired over national television about his success in the culinary field.

It is always lovely to hear a success story. Even more so when he is a Malaysian.

I was pleasantly surprised to see him in the flesh when I went for the National Crafts and Design Fair in Dublin in December 2014. There was a section called the Food Emporium where over 100 artisan food producers showcased the best of the season’s bounty.

Sham opened the award winning The Cottage Restaurant in Jamestown in County Leitrim in 2008. The menu at this restaurant draws on a rich culinary heritage that shines through chef-crafted selections of contemporary Irish cuisine with an Asian twist.

Not resting on his laurels, Sham recently created quite a stir with his new range of handmade cooking sauces, inspired by his grandmother’s cooking. The best part is that they are 100% natural with no artificial ingredients, no artificial preservatives, no flavourings or artificial colourings, no additives and no stabilizers.

When I visited Sham’s stand at the Food Emporium, it was well stocked with bottles of homemade sauces. As there were many customers at his stand, Sham reminded me to call again at his stand before I left the fair. I did and to my surprise he packed six complimentary bottles of his flavoursome sauces for me. I was thrilled to bits because that was totally unexpected. Immediately it reminded me of Malaysian kinship and generosity. I must certainly call at his restaurant when I go up to Jamestown.

Another interesting café and bakery that is near where I live is  I tea in Limerick. Run by young Malaysians, I tea serves an assortment of Irish and Malaysian cakes and buns as well as the traditional Irish breakfast.

Situated in a corner of the Limerick Milk Market which becomes very much alive on Saturdays, it caught my attention when I was doing my weekly shopping for fresh produce. Sitting down to a hot cup of latte and a meat floss or curry bun is quite an unbelievable experience in a place where buns are usually sweet and creamy.

There was a Saturday where my beloved and I sat down and ordered hot drinks and a pandan swiss roll at I tea.

Knowing that we would not be able to finish the whole swiss roll, I asked whether we could pay for the whole swiss roll but just eat two slices of it at the café and take home the remaining portion. They told us it wasn’t a problem at all and we happily had our fill.

To our surprise when we were about to go home, the owners gave us a brand new swiss roll instead of the original half!

Again it reminded me of Malaysian kinship and generosity. So I told my Irish friends about the shop and every time I’m in Limerick, I will surely pop by the shop. I guess it is the Malaysian in me who wants to see another Malaysian succeed, just like my Japanese friends who will only buy Japanese products wherever they are.

It is amazing how a country is defined by its culture and its people. It is the little things that we hold dear like the politeness, friendliness and generosity that continue to live in us wherever we are. We may take such things for granted. But when we are in a foreign place, and we meet other people from the country that we originate from, and they treat you so well, a feeling of pride and unity wells up within.

These little touches make all the difference.

I am left feeling that I am home again.

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