Of Heart & Mind

So this is the last blog of the year:

Wither goes my heart?
Wiser by the crawl of a tiny slug
Hanging onto habits like moss on damp rocks

Wherefore the baffle in my mind?
People and the things of the world perplex me more and more
Often I sigh unable to comprehend

Henceforth, what path to take in this foliage?
Plod on little slug, plod on
Glimpses of the golden sun will always be there to catch.

Xmas Eve ramblings

Went for a check up at KK Hospital yesterday. The clerk at the registration desk was super friendly and in chatty mood. She sounded like a Filipino but the name plate suggested Chinese. She then shared that she is married to a Singaporean, has been here for 21 years and her son is serving NS. Though husband is long retired due to illness and they live only in a 3 room HDB flat, she kept on repeating that she feels so blessed and was looking to celebrate Xmas. She reiterated again and again the blessing of living in Singapore, so I remarked that PAP should recruit her to campaign for them. She laughed and told me briefly about the hardship she experienced during childhood which made her so grateful for what she has today. I told her she made me ashamed and that she should talk to my children because we the true bred Singaporeans are rarely appreciative.

It just goes to show that doses of hardship in life do bring about happiness and appreciative joy. Yet there are also difficult experiences which do leave unfavorable scars and imprints in the lives of many. On this Xmas eve I should refrain from talking about the Buddhist concept of the "ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows" and how transcending them leads to peace.

 Yesterday I was discussing with a friend, a Catholic, about the documentary in History Channel on the Bible which traced the history of the Israelis from Abraham to Moses to Kings David & Solomon to Daniel and fast forward to Jesus. It is always a great puzzle to me why the Jews rejected Jesus whilst the whole Western world embraces him as the son of God. We discussed the Messiah that the Jews are still perhaps waiting for and what they expect of a Messiah, one who perhaps so powerful in all his glory that they perceived Jesus fell short of. We then went on to 'gossip' about the unrepenting Kong Hee and the prosperity gospel taught by Prince. We shared disbelief that people can be so taken in by religious leaders to suspend reasoning. My friend then asked me discreetly whether I still do not have affinity for Christianity. I replied that sometimes when I think about the earth in the whole wide universe being the only planet with intelligent life (or at least as far as we know today) it makes me think instinctively that there is surely a God. However I find it hard to believe in a Judaism God because of the enormous sufferings throughout the millenniums brought about by strife and conflict in the Middle East. It seems lame that God would let his "chosen people" suffer so badly. What kind of unreasonable test is this?

So I told my friend I am more inclined to Buddhism which teaches the way to live. Yes, there is no God involved here or rather Buddha said it isn't wise to ponder whether there is a creator because you will never find the answer. Buddhism is a philosophy that focuses on skillful living. Indeed it is a most difficult religion because there is no divine power to reach out for when one's soul is tormented, for the Buddha is within ourselves to discover. Yet when one works hard on it one can find peace incrementally. There is a special rapport between me and this Catholic friend of mine in that we respect each other's views on religion. So whilst I do admit that at times it is hard to believe there is no god, she consents that Buddhism is a good philosophy.

So on this Xmas Eve, a Xmas tree is up in my living room celebrating the birth of Jesus who guides about half the world through centuries to live well, indeed a Great Figure whether he is the son of God or not. Having written this it is also time for my meditation to hopefully catch a glimpse or two of the undisturbed mind within me.

Lessons from a Bumpy Elephant Ride

The itinerary of a recent tour to Chiangmai includes a visit to the Elephant Camp where you watch elephants paint and perform stunts as well as a ride on an elephant crossing stretches of a stream and through some forest terrains. Having heard from someone that the ride can be quite scary especially when the elephant goes up and down steep slopes there was some fear when I stood on the platform waiting to ride the next elephant that arrived. The woman in the same tour and queuing after me told her husband she wanted to quit after observing the height of the row of elephants approaching the platform. That made me more fearful. The next elephant that approached which was meant for me and my husband to ride turned out to be quite short and young and measured only two third the height of the matured elephant trotting behind it. The woman behind me then suggested to me to swap elephants. I told her no way I would do that because I was just as nervous. So my husband and me stepped onto the seat fastened above the young elephant. What I didn't know was shorter doesn't mean safer.

It was already past two and the park closes at 3 pm. Either the trainer riding the young elephant or the elephant itself or both were impatient and wanted to reach home base to rest. So whilst every other matured elephant went slowly in an orderly manner down the slope following the one in front, my young elephant and its driver were bent on overtaking the elephants in front sometimes sidestepping on untrodden path and going "stomp, stomp, stomp" instead of the slow and steady step by step rhythm. Even after getting used to the initial fearful sensation of falling I could not help but pleaded the driver not to overtake; all to no avail because he didn't understand English. Nevertheless I got used to their style and kind of enjoyed the last stretch of the ride.

Thinking through the sequence of this encounter, I was fearful, I was given a chance to choose what unknown to me was a less hazardous alternative but I declined out of fear and selfishness. Fortunately all went well. I just think that sometimes in life you can actually walk away from something which could have been good for you. If out of ignorance then nothing much can be said but if out of selfishness then you deserve it. (Maybe the elephant wanted to teach me a lesson). Fortunately I got away with just a bumpy ride that scared the wits out of me.

Anyhow with hindsight I wouldn't wish that for the lady, would I?

Think before you shoot?

Dropped in at the wet market this morning after taiji class which is not my routine. The usual fish stall which I patronise ran out of prawns. So I bought from a relatively new stall run by a few men including an old man. The tray which they displayed the prawns was a few feet from the weighing machine. I took a close look at the prawns, satisfied with the quality and ordered half a kilo. The old man took some in a sieve, walked the few feet to have them weighed, put them inside a plastic bag and handed it to me. The first thought that came to my mind was the impossibility that the weight was exactly half a kilo and the second thought that arose (judging from the look of the stallholders) was that of being cheated a couple of grams. Whilst digging into my purse I asked in Chinese about the adequacy of the weight. Un-offended, the old man briefly put the plastic bag on the machine which I took a quick glance and smiled in embarrassment. The old man smiled and said they can only give more and not less. At home whilst cleaning the prawns, I knew it was actually a lot more.

My lack of trust lies in my flaw in judging people by appearance. With hindsight the old guy actually looks honest enough but the other younger men in the stall look a bit like gangsters. Also my mother's mistrust of all stall holders in wet markets had rubbed onto me since young.

This is known as 'implicit bias' where we have subconscious fixed perceptions of people; or may be described as stereotyping on a less conscious level.

A study was carried out in the US known as the "Shoot, Don't Shoot Study" where participants sat in front of a computer with photos popping up very quickly of white and black man randomly. The man that appeared on the monitor either had a gun or a neutral object like a handphone in his hand. The participant was told to hit a 'shoot' key when they saw a threat and a 'don't shoot' key when they didn't see a threat. The findings have shown that out of implicit bias, some people are quicker to shoot an unarmed black man than an unarmed white man. This also partly explains the black crime implicit bias amongst policemen in the US.

I notice my implicit bias of people is not only confined to appearance. I would also stereotype people with specific educational, socio-economic, cultural and religious background. So I would have fixed perceptions of say people wearing tattoos, female China nationals, staunch Catholics or specialists who drive big luxurious cars just to name a few.

Implicit bias can be slowly and gradually corrected through gathering of experience or understanding which proves the fixed perception inaccurate, like my encounter. However it is best and faster dealt with from a conscious recognition of the pre-existing bias and cognitively checking our reactions and responses. After all how often are you lucky enough to be given much more than you deserve by burly looking tattooed men. I must learnt to refrain from shooting (negative remarks/responses) out of ingrained bias.

An Imagined Story of 2 Kids

After watching a documentary on Discovery Channel on the coronation of the Sultan of Perak, I was curious that his consort and two children are so young. So I did some googling and found out that Sultan Nazrin aged 59 has an impressive academic record, having graduated from Oxford and attaining Phd at Harvard. He married at 51 and have 2 children aged 7 and 4. However what intrigued me more is Sultan Nazrin's father, Sultan Azlan Shah.

When my father left his apprenticeship in Singapore for Kuala Lumpur in 1957 he started off working in the men's-boutique department of a departmental store frequented by well heeled customers including senior government officials and professionals. The per-requisite of a well-tailored bespoke suit is a hand draft pattern of great precision. Based on the individual's measurements, a pattern is drafted like an engineering drawing involving a lot of precise measuring and calculation. This was the skill which my father excelled. He brought a lot of business to the store and in no time felt he deserved more than the meager salary he was getting. Thus whilst still holding his day job he set up shop which opened only in the evening in the flat which the family lived. Of course he charged much cheaper than what the department store charged. The flat was on the third floor and one had to climb 3 flight of stairs to reach the flat. Even then he drew away many customers from the departmental store. Perhaps operating in the evening also suited peoples' schedule. From my parents' conversation, especially because of my mother's great admiration for the well educated and professionals, I knew from a young age names like Lim Chong Yah (who was then teaching in the University of Malaya), Lien Ying Chow (who was then Singapore high commissioner to KL) and a high court judge of royal lineage was amongst the customers who heaved and peeved 3 storeys to seek a tailor to make their perfect suit. Now the high court judge was the one that I remembered most because on one of his visits he used a meter-long ruler to hit the false ceiling of the room (which was renovated as a shop) and teased my father about what he was hiding above. I learnt from my mother that the high court judge later became a sultan and much later the Yang di Pertuan Agong.

After much googling I realised the documentary was about the coronation of the son of that 'judge' whom we held in awe. This was our closest link with anything royal and famous. When one has the slightest brush with the rich and famous one starts to let imagination runs wild. Could we have met when we were young? You see when these people came to make their suits, they sometimes bring their children along, like in an outing. Sometimes these kids would sit on the rattan chairs at the balcony whilst waiting for their father who seemed to be taking forever to select the fabric and design. My role as a young kid was that of a doorman, unlocking and opening the door when customers were about to leave the flat. The door to the flat opened into the balcony. So I would be on standby at the balcony near the door. Could one of those kids whom I exchanged stares with be the present Sultan of Perak? I wonder.

I like the scene which I imagined. Two kids, one Malay boy and one Chinese girl staring at each other. The girl opened the door for the father and the kid. More than half a century later an old woman watched a documentary on the coronation of a King; 2 kids, 2 life trajectories.

"Ugly" is just as good

Interesting article in the papers about a startup named "Imperfect Produce" at the Bay Area of San Francisco. There you can buy produce at steep discount. Though equally tasteful and nutritious, the vegetable and fruits are "cosmetically challenged". So here you can find lobsided bell peppers, carrots joined at the limbs, crooked egg plants and other "ugly" and discoloured fruits and vegetables.

In a world where irregularly formed produce are discarded if they do not meet the consumer aesthetic standard, there is massive food wastage. Heapfuls of non-uniform produce piled up in fields waiting to be discarded.

To attract attention and acceptance, the store has coined labels like"Real food has curves" (alike women), "bite me", "my curves are good for you" and "more to love" (for an overly large lemon for example). Unfortunately trying to sell to supermarkets was an uphill task. Somehow there is this prevalent psychological perception that non-standard looking produce can be harmful. The supermarkets were unwilling to purchase quoting difficulty in selling to consumers.

What a pity! I was just thinking if supermarkets are willing to carry such irregular looking produce it would be good learning grounds for children to accept non uniformity and learn to be open minded and to embrace diversity. So a parent can walk down an aisle showing the kid that though a particular tomato is fat and bulbous or for that matter discoloured, it is just as nutritious as any other. On deeper thought however, even if supermarkets are willing to carry such imperfect produce, they will probably need to display them in separate trays selling at substantial discounts. How then can you explain to the child such inequality? Wouldn't it reinforce the inferiority of non normal looking produce?

Perhaps only in the Bay Area of San Francisco where people think out of the box, does Imperfect Produce manage to deliver boxes of their produce at offices of tech luminaries. Perhaps only these people can bring these less than "perfect" produce home and whilst sharing such food with their kids remark that "food grows in fun and funky ways- the notion that it is uniform is just a fallacy" and that "ugly" is really just as good.

Refused to be discharged

Today I went to the National Eye Centre for the annual review. I have kept the appointments alive by exaggerating a bit on the floaters that disturb my vision. This is because the centre will discharge you if you don't have any serious problem. Today after the tests and inspection, the young lady doctor told me apart from the floaters which shouldn't be of real concern, my cornea health is declining ie. the cells are degenerating. She explains this is part of aging and nothing much can be done about it. When pressed further she said my vision may become a bit hazy over time. I queried what is the worst that can happen (hypochondriac syndrome kicking in) to which she replied a cornea transplant if vision really deteriorates. Then she gave me a close look which kind of frightened me and in the next breath she said, "I am just thinking whether to still monitor you or discharge you". I was aghast and declared "I want to be monitored". She replied though not rudely that it was not for me to decide. I then asked her politely why my degenerating cornea condition doesn't need monitoring. She said it will be a slow and gradual process and won't be like I will lose my vision overnight. I remarked that surely the hospital should take care of ( I was about to say pioneer generation but stopped short realizing I didn't qualify) elderly people like myself. This time round she retorted "But madam, we have many many other elderly people to take care of too". She finally accommodated by saying she will go over to seek the consultant's advice.They finally decided to see me in 2 years time. At the registration desk, the clerk told me she will give me an appointment in 18 months' time and that it is better not to fix an appointment exactly 2 years from now. She said it was to give me some contingency should I need any postponement as there is a policy for automatic discharge of patients not seen for 2 years. To get myself re-registered I would need to go to a polyclinic for referral and a long wait of months for an appointment.

I reflect on the doctor's exasperated retort and the clerk's advice and begin to really feel the limited resources in public healthcare. In a way my own remarks pose a relevant question, "To what extent is my healthcare the government's responsibility?" It comes very naturally to me that the government should take care of my healthcare needs. However if I view it from the angle of  "limited resources a midst competing demand"  it may seem selfish of me to take up someone's slot. Still, it will take a really big heart to forgo public healthcare.

(By the way I feel these young doctors really have very little EQ, telling a patient her conditions is not so good and in the next instance telling her she is discharged).

Play

I have been mulling over a repeated theme played out by a little girl at the children's home (suspected to be physically abused by an adult in the family). So she wants me to be the wicked queen whilst she be the long suffering maid being bullied by the queen. This theme has been played for a couple of sessions now. When I show signs of kindness she will stop me in the act and instruct me to be harsh and rude. No letting out in ill treatment is allowed. Sometimes the theme develops into the queen being imprisoned repetitively by the police for the abuse, only to be released with the maid's help and resumes the ill treatment over and over again.  Now I know in psychology there is this behaviour called 'repetitive compulsive disorder' where a person seeks circumstances which allows him/her to re-experience the 'trauma' over and over again. A common example is the chronic dysfunctional relationships a person seeks in a partner where he/she will once again be the subject of physical or emotional abuse or neglect. Freud ascribes it to a dysfunctional relationship at childhood with a parent. Subconsciously the 'inner child' is trying to relive the experience with the hope that if he is good, smarter, more helpful etc he will win back the love and approval of his parent. It is a sort of defence mechanism which avoids the sinking into despair, hopelessness, anger and depression over the rejection. In rewriting history the inner child hopes to do it right 'this time round'.

A form of catharsis  involves the acceptance of the feelings ie. to swallow the bitter pill. So after 3 sessions of the long suffering maid seeking incessant misery, I revise my script a bit albeit to my client's displeasure. I passed remarks like " I don't want to bully you anymore because you are a good girl" and "you should not allow others to bully you, you don't deserve it". Whether by coincidence, at the last session, the behaviour of the 'maid' turned really aggressive and angry with her shouting " this castle doesn't belong to you" and "get out of my castle". You know sometimes I can not control my reflex reaction. "Whoa why are you so angry and fierce?", I remarked instead of the normal observation remark I should be giving which is "the maid is very angry with the wicked queen". The story ended with her using magical power to send the wicked queen trapped and blown away in a bubble.I wonder what is her next theme though.

One thing that really keeps me going is this opportunity to observe the children's themes at play, do some research on them and relate to their underlying rationale.

How things should be

Are some people inherently born happy whilst others are hard wired to be moody? Apparently the constitution of a person's brains do contribute to some extent whether a person is optimistic or not. Good feelings are experienced in the left frontal cortex and bad feelings in the right. It seems that people with a happier disposition have more activity in the left frontal lobes. This explains why some babies are more fretful than others even in the same environment.

Fortunately with the understanding of neuroplasticity it is now known that we can change our brains by changing how we think and feel. Basically the way we behave, think and emote shape the neural pathways and synapses.

Given this good news how do we then psycho ourselves? It may be very easy to tell someone to think positive but bad habits die hard. When the Dalai Lama was once asked to recount the happiest moment of his life, he replied without hesitation "Now". But we are not the Dalai Lama or brought up the way he did. Yesterday a talk I heard over podcast shed some light as to why we can never (like the Dalai Lama) hold on to the belief that "Now" is the happiest moment. The hindrance basically lies in our perpetual "attachment to how things should be". So if I wake up in the morning and realise I run out of bread, my attachment to a normal breakfast of toasted bread may cause some irritation. Of course I can blow it up further by berating myself for forgetting to buy or scold someone who is supposed to see to it. This is just an example when minor things go awry. Needless to say there are bigger issues affecting health and family that are more difficult to accept and that "attachment to how things should be" become more severe and pervasive. In no small measures are these affected by social/cultural norms and peer pressure. A well interconnected world in the like of facebook plus subliminal advertising (manipulating our unconscious mind) also help shape our concept of "how things should be". So even when we fall sick we blame ourselves for not taking good care of our body, not exercising enough or not taking sufficient health supplement to keep ourselves in tip top condition. Needless to say the "should be"s extend to our family members, our expectations of them to be at least in line with the norm. The list goes on.

Ironically the most fearful rejection of "how things are now" is the inability to accept our feelings. This suppression can have serious consequences psychologically. Some people, for example, are brought up in an environment where feeling angry is disapproved. Anger is hence repressed and often results in depression. The happy faces in facebook and the "all-is-well" front we see everywhere also tell us that if we feel sad something is not quite right with us or we make others uncomfortable when we are sad. If you have watched Disney's pixar movie "Inside Out" you will know what I mean. In the show "Joy" was trying to run the main character's life and blocking out "sadness" to the detriment of her authentic self and almost landing her into numbness and depression.

As someone once said "Life is like a piano; the white keys are happy moments black keys are sad moments; but remember both keys are played together to give sweet music to life".

Frienship at work?

Yesterday's BT carries an article about declining friendship at work. Surveys carried out in the States showed that the percentage of people who said they have a close friend at work dropped from 50% in 1989 to 30% in 2004, though more recent statistics were absent. It went on to analyse the cause. Apparently most people now treat the office as a place to be efficient and not to form bonds, a place to be polite not personal. Moreover long term employment is no longer the norm and it is so common to jump ship every few years. At such energy to build friendship is better spent outside the office. Given the connectivity through various media, time is also precious to get the job done freeing more time to engage with friends/contacts outside work.

The article went on to say that jobs are more satisfying when there is opportunity to form friendship. When there is friendship in the office there is more trust, more willingness to share information and help one another which is beneficial for the company.

We baby boomers are luckier in that we did enjoy this type of comradeship in the 1970s to 1990s. Why, because many of us stayed with an employer for decades. Can you imagine seeing each other 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? We actually saw more of our colleagues than our spouse and children in our waking time. Moreover way back in the 80s work life was less stressful without email and office softwares. For example a legal contract took ages to complete starting with handwritten amendments on a typed first draft, sending the office boy to deliver the amended draft to the lawyer's office and then for the lawyer to make the necessary amendments and getting his typists to type out the whole document on a typewriter. Iterations went on forever. In addition there was no handphone; and a worker can literally avoid answering the direct line to buy time. Hence with so much time waiting for the next step to take place, what did we do? A lot of chatting and socialising of course. I don't know about the men but certainly the women had a lot to share about children upbringing, family issues etc. Family Day, annual D&D and year end parties were big events calling for working committees to be formed and much office hours spent in planning and execution, inclusive of working hours rehearsing for sketches and songs. In such a social setting can we not have close friends in the office?

Maybe I was lucky and the place where I worked attracted less ambitious people; but I think generally there was less back stabbing and scheming for positions at work then.  If achievement, power and affiliation are believed to be the 3 motivation factors at work, affiliation definitely played quite an important part.

Recently I received a surprise letter from my former company informing of their intention to form an alumni of ex employees. The thought of reviving that sense of comradeship springs up in nostalgic fantasy.Then I read about an increasing trend for companies like McKinsey and Chevron to build alumni networks. Such alliance and alumni networks can encourage "employees to invest in relationships even when they won't stay at jobs for decades".

So I will go ahead to join this alumni to prolong existing close relationships and to hopefully reignite some others.

Doubt vs fear

I guess a hypochondria will always look for a trigger happy doctor. I was having a reflux problem that makes my throat feels ticklish and a compulsive need to cough out the phlegm. This happens especially when I lie down for my afternoon nap. For some time I have not been enjoying my nap. My dear family doctor straight away writes a reference letter to a stomach and liver specialist recommending an endoscopy. Though she prescribed me medicine for a condition called GERD (Gastroesophageal reflux disease) she did not see the necessity for me to wait and see whether the medicine works first. She also thought my losing 2 kg over the last 6 months was something to worry about.

I was stumped of course and must have shown it on my face. I had expected only some medication to solve the problem. She gave me the incredulous look when I asked about the procedure and the cost etc. I deliberated for a week and when her medicine didn't work found myself at the specialist's office. The receptionist had asked me to fast from midnight prior to the appointment "just in case I need to do a scope". True enough the specialist suspected acid reflux due to weakening of the valve or maybe presence of air pockets in the esophagus. Anyway I was prepared to be scoped. However he also pushed me to do an additional colonscopy ie. bottom up as well. That despite me giving negative answers to abnormalities-detective questions about my bowels, other than my life long conditions of an easily irritable bowel. To do the colonscopy I have to purge for 3 hours after taking some special laxative. He said I could spend about 3 hours in his office and after 4 hours everything will be over and I could go home. He said at my age I should really undergo the procedure. As I was not mentally prepared for that I declined and said I would just go along with the endoscopy. I must say he didn't look pleased at all. At the waiting room outside I was rather disturbed with my decision and toyed with the idea whether I would live to regret my decision. Was I being a fool not to do both at one shot? Wild ideas crossed my mind like what if I miss the test which could have saved my life. To be honest I would have gone with both scopes had there not an appointment which I didn't want to cancel later in the day.

At the endoscopy centre one floor below I met a 40-ish  China national couple who sought my help to fill in some forms and did some translation. I found out that his doctor was the same as mine. They then shared that the husband has a GERD problem and the medicine doesn't really help. To my surprise he had done 3 scopes in 5 years under the same doctor. I was shocked and asked why there was the need for such frequency. The wife just shrugged and said the husband felt safer. Now being a hypochondriac I have done extensive googling not only about the details of various scopes but have also scanned many websites advocating for such procedures as well as websites that list the risks, hazards and the needlessness of their frequency.Now the couple may not have divulged a more serious problem and the websites I visit may be incorrect which is quite probable. My mind may also have been corrupted by bad media against the medical profession and medical commercialism.

What I have described is a common experience of being caught between skepticism and fear when encountering a medical problem. I guess I better go for a stool test soon since I missed out on the chance to do a colonscopy.

Do I look like this guy in the picture below? Sigh!


 

Let them be Heard

Currently I volunteer at a counselling centre which runs a program helping families which are going through various stages of divorce. I engage the children who exhibit emotional issues with sandplay therapy. I will record case notes after each session for my own reference as well as themes and feelings which I have observed exhibited by the child. Often the themes revealed in the sand stories are very telling of the situations the child is in, like loss, insecurity, need for protection and anger. Sometmes the children may also make comments about their parents directly or indirectly through the symbols they have selected for their sand story,

Now I was at a predicament how much of my observation should be shared with the parents. I pass my case notes to the counsellors engaging with the parents. The practice of confidentiality is essential in counselling not only as part of ethics and trust, but in the case of children, to ensure they remain open and do not close up should they know their secrets are shared with their parents. Hence I would request the counsellors to reveal only very broadly to the parents the general feelings of the child and the repeated themes in his/her play so they know what their child is undergoing. At the back of my mind I was also fearful how the child's predicament may impact the parents.

Today however I was relieved to read in the newspapers about our Family Justice Courts embarking on a "Child Inclusive Dispute Resolution" Australian model which gives parents a chance to hear how their children are affected by their divorce. Instances have shown that by adopting this model parental conflicts especially over child custody resolves faster as parents understand the plight and wishes of their children. Australian child psychologist who pioneered the model emphasized the importance for trained professionals to find out the children's feelings, as they may not tell their parents the truth. Therein lies the challenge for the child counsellor to gain the child's trust to share his/her true feelings. In one of my sandplay sessions, a child displayed a very dark theme of a bunch of helpless females hiding behind a castle under siege by enemies and resorting to a divine statue to protect them when their soldiers failed. After the session when the kid's mum came to collect her and asked her what the story in the sand tray was about, I was stumped when she told her mum a brief happy story about the happy princess in the castle taking a ride on a horse in the open country. This child has shared with me how stressed her mum is at home. In my work I have seen so very often the child being worried for the parents.

Yesterday a child's remarks at the children's home pulled at my heartstrings. In the midst of playing masak2 (cooking) she suddenly uttered, "When I am a mother, I will take care of my children". Will this remark if passed on to the parents make them live more responsibly so as not to leave a child in an institution?

The Spark in their eyes

Most times when I step out of home on my way to conduct either story telling at the library or a sandplay therapy session with some kid, I will inevitably be asking myself silently "Why am I doing such crazy stuff?". My body prefers to relax at home and my mind conjures images of me making a fool of myself at storytelling or fighting sleepiness to remain attentive to the kid at the sand-tray.

Yet almost all the time I will leave the sessions with a spring in my steps and a lift in the heart. Yesterday after trying to figure out what happens at these sessions I conclude it must be the light in the children's eyes that is so infectious and which catches onto me. When the story takes an exciting turn you can literally see many pairs of sparkling eyes like gleaming cats' eyes in the dark. I am also puzzled why at story telling ideas and words flow so spontaneously that I can effortlessly put more spice into the story. Such creativity never ever shows up in any other area of my life, least of all at my previous career when I am often tongue tied when answering to my bosses.

Sandplay sessions however can be quite draining on the facilitator especially when the child tells a disturbing sand-story and the facilitator's psychic relates to it. However after the sand-story the kids at the children's home love to share about things happening in school and at the Home. Perhaps it was the fact that no one hears them out, you can literally see the twinkle in their eyes when you chat with them attentively and warmly. Maybe they are imagining me as their mum or grandma, who knows.

Yes it is that glow in their eyes that puts that quiet smile on my face and a spring in my steps after each session.

Doris Lessing in one of her novels:  "...the wonderful way children both know and do not know the facts, can believe in a fairy tale with one part of their minds and know it is not true with the other. It is a great, nourishing saving ability, and if a child doesn't achieve this capacity it may be in trouble."

I guess its my saving ability too!

Singapore Election 2015

Its Singapore 2015 election day and I now await the results.

My daughter posted on her facebook what she thinks are the 12 broad categories of Singapore voters. I summarise it here instead of copying her post because it is rather flowery and may be too long and difficult to read especially for older generation not knowing the younger peoples' jargon:


 Opposition Party Supporters

• 1.       They just need someone to champion their cause- (single mum, social mobility, retirement adequacy, healthcare, censorship etc) and  to table their issue in parliament
• 2.       People who believe diversity is necessary to build institutional resilience and considered policy making. They do not believe the elite governance of the last 50 years is tenable in the long run. Believe in the need of a long tern hedge and hence to give the opposition training wheels.
• 3.       Teochew diehards
• 4.       Angry people who rant and just want to voice their frustrations and point fingers at government
• 5.       Swing voters who succumb to media either repulsed by PAP brainwash or touched by eloquence of opposition candidates
• 6.       People who are well connected with a treasure trove of insider news about behind-the scene party struggles and the less known side of the PAP framework

Incumbent Supporters

• 7.       People who believe in Protecting the “SG unicorn” seeing no better comparable form of government
• 8.       Present or Ex civil servants or employees of stat boards/TLCs who understand the difficulty in policy making. They associate civil service with ruling party
• 9.       People who think “It isn’t  perfect but it is not bad”. Don’t fix it if it is not broken. Their deepest anxiety is incompetency creeping into the government whilst group 2’s  deepest anxiety is being stuck with one choice.
• 10.   The forever grateful who call non supporters as ingrates
• 11.   Swing voters won over by rebuttals of PM and stardust of Tharman
• 12.   Nerds that walk the talk, familiar with the manifesto, follow policy changes and their rationale, volunteer at RCs; and from their carefully weighed assessment the ruling party is the  party to bring us into the future.

Uncontrolled spontaneity

The Notting Hill Street Carnival is an annual event in London and is known as the biggest street carnival in Europe. It is a celebration by the African/Caribbean community of their vibrant culture and traditions. The event lasts for 2 full days with closure of several roads in the borough and where colourful parades roll down the streets and dance parties dotting every road junction and corner last through the nights. Caribbean food stands also line some of the streets. The crowd from local and tourists can be quite unmanageable such that many shops temporarily block their shopfront with timber boards leaving a small window to serve customers. This however lend colour to the festival as many artists display their creativity splashing colours and drawings on them.

I was lucky to be in London last weekend and braved the crowd to join in the fun. There were stalls that sold party horns and whistles and parents bought them for the kids. So there was an ongoing din because the little trumpets were really loud. I remarked to my husband that any whistle blowing by the police would surely be lost in the ongoing whistle sound everywhere.

As part of a crowd control strategy the train operator closed the few train stations closest to the scene. Once the first parade passed the street where we stood to watch, we made our long walk to other train stations that were opened. The shops further away from the seat of action were opened . I went into a convenient store. Not long after a young dark skinned man came running in to announce to the shopkeepers that the restaurant chefs were bringing their cooking into the streets, presumably the first time this had happened. They talked excitedly about the fun descending on the streets.

We walked on and close to Baywater train station, we came across a few Chinese restaurants. Hungry and tired we went inside one of them which had displayed delicious looking roasts at the shop window. A conversation was going on amongst the waiters.  “cao si ren” they said in Cantonese referring to the din in the neighbourhood ( meaning the noise is killing ). Inside were mainly Chinese families having their meals. From discreet eavesdropping I gathered that the middle aged couple and a young man at the next table are Singaporeans with their son who is studying there. Coming in from the streets where groups of youngsters were screaming, laughing and talking at the top of their voices, the great contrast in atmosphere inside seemed to hit me in the face especially when the couple served the son some food urging him to have more.

In the news the next day a man was stabbed at the carnival and more than 300 people arrested for various crimes including possession of arms. Apparently this was a record breaking year for arrests at the annual carnival. The mayor of London was concerned and had raised again a previous suggestion to move the carnival to Hyde Park which had met with much resistance.

I think about Singapore, how this would never have been allowed. Our street parties are organised by government affiliated organisations. It would have been unheard of to close such a big area for 2 full days including the few crucial train stations. Even the whistles would not have been allowed for sale and for use.

Yes that is why you need to go to London to see the splash, the spontaneity, the fun, the madness (even if it means having your light coloured jacket spoilt by paints when you ventured too near the participants’ painted bodies); and then fly back home where there is order and controlled sanity. You would have missed something if you didn’t experience it though.