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).