Death Be Not Proud

A Good Read - Death be not Proud

Don't worry...I am not going to subject anyone to reading John Donne's sonnet "Death be not Proud." However, if you ever have the chance to lay your hands on the book of the same title by John Gunther, let me tell you that it is one of the best books you'll ever read.

I can't remember when I first read that book; maybe it was in primary school. But I remember it being a compelling autobiographical story...of the writer coming to terms with his son's illness. Johnny Gunther, was a lively, outgoing and intelligent teen who was struck by brain tumor.

The novel traces the real life events of Johnny' struggle with his crippling disease, and his parents anguish at seeing their son suffer. The writing is simple, and yet oh-so poignant. It's a heartbreaking tale...and yet, a celebration of a strong human spirit that refuses to be defeated.

Johnny refused to let cancer defeat his spirit. He really had a zest for life, and was there were many times in the book, I, as the reader, even questioned the unfairness of it all. Why did something so bad have to befall on him?

To top it all, they released the movie version of the book starring the then heart-throb, Robby Benson. He captured the sensitive character of Johnny Gunther to a T...and when Johnny died, I remember weeping buckets at the cinema.

I have always loved the books rather than the screenplay (yes...even the movie magic of Harry Potter cannot touch the magic of Rowling's imagination).

I am not sure if it is still possible to find a copy of the book. But if you are able to do so, please let me know.

Death be not Proud ... we all can learn a thing or two from it....about dignity, courage and an indomitable spirit...I know I have.

Those Were the Days...

Those Were The Days...

I went to the 1st Singapore World Aids Day Concert this evening. It was held at Fort Canning Park, under the night sky and beautiful stars. It was a great evening to be outdoors, for the weather was fine, and we laid the mats on the ground for a picnic.

I was there with my sis and her girl, and with Zafran, Zarifah and Akmal. It was Akmal's first 'adult' concert (Sesame Street, Disney & Barney do not count)...and it was great to see them having fun. Most of the stars were local groups Electrico, Stephanie Sun, Hossan Leong, DimSum Dollies and Hady Mirza (to name a few)

I thought I had long given up concerts...(especially after I told myself that the Osmonds would be my absolute last!)

However, I was lulled back to the days of jam and hops during varsity days. It was a time of music and dance, of being friends and making new ones....of the nights outside the library...and seranaded by the soothing melodic voices which were able to melt hearts.

I hope...that the music will still go on.

Prayer for today:
God, please bless Abah and Mak on their 44th wedding anniversary. Such is their love..still going strong. - Ameen

The Paintbrush

The Paintbrush
(poet unknown)

I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn't show.


I'm so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you'll do - that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I'm afraid I might lose you.


I'd like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.


So if you'll be patient and close your eyes,
I'll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.


Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.


I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case someone doesn't understand.


So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.


I am not sure how many of you remember this poem. But the classes who got that little notebook, and had to write their journals, would find a printed copy of this poem in there.

It deals with a person's insecurities...and tnat sometimes, we all hide behind some kind of facade. Hiding may not solve the problems, for we cannot run away forever.

We need to remind ourselves that we can never fully understand a person...and never allow ourselves to be blindsided by our prejudices, our biases, and our assumptions of what a person is like.

Lessons from a clown

Lessons from a Clown
(For my special child)

I know that the past weeks have not been easy. Though you wear a smile on your face, I am able to see through you. The colours around you are faded and dull, as if the problems of the world have sucked the lustre and vitality around you.

I see you...
even though the mask you wear is like a sealed armour,
and as you resist...
the only way I can get through to you is really to start peeling those hardened layers...one by one.
I will continue to do so. Remember...I've told you time and time again...we sometimes have to be cruel to be kind.

Today, I want to tell you something about clowns.
We all know that clowns are supposed to make people happy. Their job is to make others laugh at and with them; to put smiles on faces. They fill children with joy by their silly antics.

But do you really think that it is easy being a clown?

I read somewhere, that in reality, some of the best clowns in the world...are 'the saddest people' in the world. The reason for the irony is that it may really take a person who truly understands what it means to be down and out, to feel so low and disillusioned...that he is able to reach out to another. He is able to empathise, and thinks of the hurt and pain of others.

Then to hide his own sorrows, to puts on the layers of face paint...to mask his true self. He in turn gets some comfort in the thought of making someone else feel good.

I am not comparing you to a clown...don't worry. But I think you are perceptive enough to know what I mean.

Here's the thing I hope you will really think about as you face your challenges each day.

Life...does not really have to make sense sometimes.
There are things that we cannot understand, and cannot rationalise.
So don't try to understand everything - nothing is purely black and white.

Don't be afraid...
to allow your heart to rule your head at times.
to wear your heart on your sleeve...and let others know how you feel.
When things go right, celebrate and be grateful.
And if things go wrong...live with it..and still be grateful.

I know deep within you,
you are resilient, and perservering...
So don't allow yourself to feel disheartened to try to make things better.
There will be days...when you feel as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Bear it a while, and move on.

Live each day of your life to the fullest...
for your yesterdays will be of meaningful memories; and not of guilt or regrets
and your tomorrows...be the stepping stones to your destiny.

Take time to learn, and discover more about yourself,
for the inner journey is just as important as the outer one.
Make this learning a lifelong journey, for it makes you a better person.

There are so many things I want to tell you...but the most important now is this.
Never for once, think that you are alone...and that you have nobody.
You do...remember that.

I will end this entry with this poem by Walt Whitman.

"Each man and each woman of you I lead
upon a knoll.
My left hand is hooking you around the waist,
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents
and the public road.
Not I, not any one else can travel the road for you.
You must travel it for yourself."

Prayer for Today
Dear God...bless and look after this child...and all the children of the world...for they hold the future. - Ameen

I'm able to think again

I Am Able to Think Again


After days of doing mindless chores and decluttering, I am quite glad that I signed up for the conference. Even if it means having to travel to the other end of the island (& getting up at an ungodly hour), so far, no regrets.

The keynote speaker spoke about the lessons (in educational context) that the East and West can learn from each other.

But the most pertinent question he posed to us was this:
What is the value of education and knowledge today?

In the past, the process of being educated, is seen as being more than important...It is seen as one of the ultimate aims of life.

But with the challenges of the world we face, is getting an education a means to an end? We were once told..."If you study hard, and do well, you will get a good job in future." Really? No wonder, in an age of instant gratification...the idea of having to ''work hard' for goals that they cannot immediately see is so hard to buy in.

Furthermore,,...look at the 'role models' of the world today.
Who are those whom the younger generation look up to...the popstars, the 'superjocks' and sports heroes. Prof. Elliot calls it 'anti-intellectualism'...a movement whereby the Geeks and people who strive to gain knowledge are not held in high regard.

I feel that in the end...one gets educated, and enjoy learning...more for its intrinsic worth.At least, it works for me.

"The Living Years"

The Living Years

One of the best lyrics ever written , I feel, is found in the song "The Living Years", by Mike and the Mechanics. The song, is deceptively simple. It is about a son, who upon the birth of his child, reflects upon his own tumultuous relationship with his father. He comes a full circle, for only when he is placed in his father's shoes, he is able to understand his dad's "spirit", and hears his "echoes".

I have used this song for my lessons, and I think, some of you out there, may remember this. There has always been a range of responses for this exercise...for those who could immediately understand the power of the lyrics...and those who stubbornly resist 'a futile sentimental exercise' for 'my parents will never change."

Do you burn bridges, or do you build them?

"Every generation, blames the one before,
and all of their frustrations, come beating on your door..."

The generation gap is the easiest excuse to use each time the parent and the child find themselves not being able to agree with each other. Really? Are they so different in their outlook and values? Are we really not able 'to see eye-to-eye'? The parent as the adult, thinks that he has absolute authority to impose his ways, for he has a right over his child...and of course, the child sees the parents' as unreasonable tyrants who make impossible demands and set ridiculous expectations?


"I know I am a prisoner to all my father held so dear.
I know I am a hostage to all his hopes and fears..."


It's tough being a child, a teen...but I must tell you that it is going to be even tougher being a parent ... to a teen. Almost all parents think it is their prerogative to decide what is best for their child...and sometimes, they forget that what they want may not be best for the child...


"You say you just don't see it, he says it's perfect sense
You just can't get agreement in this present tense
We all talk a different language, talking in defense"


So what went wrong? How did things go wrong?
I mean...if we look at the bigger picture of our imperfect world...when men can never fully agree, and war breaks out because there is no consensus, no harmony; I think we can trace it back to the very basic of most relationships...of that between a parent and a child.

I find the line "we all talk a different language, talking in defense" so compellingly true. How did the relationship become so complicated? I feel that one of the hardest thing to do as a parent sometimes...is to listen....to our children.
We hear a lot of sounds...a lot of chatter...a lot of noise, but how much do we listen and understand?

It takes to two hands to clap....and communication must be a two-way channel. As humans...we all seek to understand, and be understood in return. There is no perfection in this world...and so we need not strive for it...We strive to live our lives to the fullest of our abilities, and choose ways that will bring people together; not drive them away.

I feel, before we can even talk about world peace, and about saving the world...let us save ourselves, and the people who matter most.


So to all mums and dads out there, and also the children...let us give hope to the future...in our living years.

The Paradox of Life

paradox of Life

I found something worth pondering over while surfing over the net.
The extract below is from www.poeticexpressions.co.ok.
Kudos to the person who wrote such a simple, but oh-so-deep truths about how contradicting life can be.


The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but
shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but
have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller
families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less
sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems,
more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little,
drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too
little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too
much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a
living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've
been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street
to meet a new neighbour. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've
done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but
polluted the soul.

We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write
more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to
rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to
produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods, and slow digestion, big men and small
character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of
two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are
days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night
stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to
quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and
nothing in the stockroom.

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going
to be around forever. Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to
you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your
side. Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is
the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, "I love you" to your loved ones, but
most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from
deep inside of you. Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for
someday that person will not be there again. Give time to love, give time to
speak, and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.


Beautiful right?

Maybe I shall add that to my own contradictions that seem to plague me.

I look, yet I do not see.
I hear, yet do not listen.
I touch, yet do not feel.
I yearn for simplicity, but get tangled up in complex webs...
Is there such a thing as honest lies?

Have I been asleep when I am awake?

Reaching for Sky

Reaching for Sky
(this one's for you)

A few years ago, I had a very special individual who went through troubled times. He made it through the rain...and came out stronger.
Recently, he encountered more obstacles, and is in danger of being caught into the turbulent maelstrom of his own emotions and self-beliefs.

I am sure you'll be able face this, Sky. Keep on believing.
Here is the same poem I shared with you back then...
I cannot share your load, nor take it all away. You have to stand on your own.
But as you remain resolute and strong, find yourself again.


You Caught Me A Rainbow

If you could catch a rainbow
You would do it just for me
and share with me its beauty
On days when there's melancholy

If you could build a mountain
for me to call my very own
A place to find solace, serenity
A place to be alone

If you could take all my troubles
You'd toss them in the sea
But remember all these thing you're looking for
are impossible to get...trust me

You cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair
But have been what you know best
My child, my friend....who's always there.


Shall we go and find the fire rainbow?

One, Two, Three, Four...there's more?

One, Two, Three , Four...there's more?

(This is for K,H and the babies of 2001)

I know some of you love ghost stories. So here is one...just not a conventional one. It is not meant to scare...but its authenticity can be vouched by the class of 4E2...

We wanted to do something special for the 35th Anniversary celebration..something memorable before we moved out of the old premises. After all, the fun fair was open to the public. So what better way to attract people to come than re-creating "The Haunted House".

We did not want a run-of-the-mill kind of attraction. The school had its 'reputation'of being visited by many an unearthly inhabitant of the 'netherworld', so it would be perfect to convert the old AVA room to engage in some good old-fashioned scare.

The kids were brilliant, creative...and made the idea come to fruit. With the yards of cloth , we turned the room into a series of maze-like paths...and at each pit stop, something was waiting to surprise the visitors. We had the full works...a mummy, the Phantom of the Opera (who sat at one corner,mask on...and just slammed the piano chords....er...who played that role?). There was The Grim Reaper (the costumes were awesome!), Count Dracula, Medusa (yes...in the dark, the snakes' eyes glowed), and ...our classic Pontianak.

I saw how...what seemed like a motley crew of people who could not get along, suddenly come together to bring the idea alive....and made the project so hush-hush, that others were intrigued. I knew a lot of people were skeptical...at what they thought was an amateurish effort to scare others.

So we charged $2.50 for a guided tour...A 'medium' holding a tap light in hand, would lead a group of 4-5 through the maze. (some people thought it would not even make money)....hahahaha...from opening our doors at 9.00am...to 4.30pm...we had no break...and earned more than $3K...(and poor 'creatures' who got kicked, poked, hit and screamed at...and could not have their food)

Where is the ghost story you may ask?
Let me describe the experience...Somehow, someone had lit some incense in the room...and in total darkness...there was an eerie, hazy...cloyingly sweet atmopshere created. My 'actors' took on their roles so much ...they did not speak...that at some point...I really could not figure who were behind the masks..

There were times...when I was not sure...for I seemed to have 'overcounted' when we did the roll call.1,2,3,4....eh...how come got extra?

And because of the cloth (or shroud?), who gave me feathery touches...or blew lightly at my nape?...and why did the aircon which always malfunctioned...made the room extra chilly? Where did the strange hums....or sudden wails come from?...so near yet so far away?

Do you know how many times the younger visitors came out in hysterics?
We had little primary school girls who were 'traumatised'...and had to conduct a 're-tour' with the lights on so that they can see the students as themselves...(but how horrified I was when they mentioned a 'ghost' that was not even on my list?)

Even the older ones...and some of my colleagues..were freaked out...by the last 'station'...at the corner of the room, was a 'nisan' (a tombstone head, a white diaper stained red...an ancient incense burner...and perched up on the ledge, before the exit..quietly, was Sara...all in white, and her long hair falling over her face...whispering "I ....see.....you..." ( hey...she did take a break...but why do people keep saying that 'how did you make her eyes so bloodshot')


There are certain things better left unasked...had we unwittingly invited other 'guests' to join in this haunting party of ours? The sombre music...the smoke...the chill...all added to an exciting day to remember.

Maybe ... someone has the answer...when the day was done, and when we all decided to take a picture...we 'found' an answer (I think)
On all of the photographs we took, there were vivid globs of light and shadows...of...what? who? Even the most cynical of teachers, our photographer, was intrigued...whose auras were they?

We cannot explain...we rather not know...

Counting My Blessings

Counting My Blessings

There are so many things to be happy about in life, and somehow, it does not have to be the big things.

Today, it has been the small thoughts and actions that helped me smile.

a)the chocolates that were placed by a kind soul on my table
b)getting started on organising my work
c)a big hug from a special friend
d)an sms from my son in HK to say he is fine
e)lunch with two friends I have not seen for a while
f)sharing a drink with a special child
g)quiet, productive moments in the room upstairs with 2 very helpful people
h)walking in the rain
i)more chocolates and a tub of Ben & Jerry's
j)a big bowl of hot, steaming chicken porridge.

Of course...the biggest blessing...is to be alive. Thank God.

Day of Reckoning

Day of Reckoning

I know I have been a little morbid lately. Today is no different...only that I will keep the entry short.

It has been a day of reckoning of sorts...
I know where I stand (or fall)
I realise my miniscule position.

I know for sure that the hand that feeds...is eventually the hand that gets bitten.
So what is new?

tomorrow?
tomorrow I find the answer to mortality...
to run against the sands of time.

Deathbed Legacy

Deathbed Legacy: What do you want to leave behind?

Sorry...I am at it again.
I suppose the quixotic quest is steering me into some taboo areas, but these are issues I need to deal with.

I remember during one of Dr Lim Guat Tin's lectures. She looked squarely at all of us, and candidly threw this question. "What is your deathbed legacy?". There was an audible gasp in the lecture theatre. What did that have to do with the topic of organisational learning?

How does one want to be remembered? What are the things we leave behind besides all our worldly possessions?

In Islam, I have the best example to follow. Prophet Muhammad (pbup)on his deathbed said,"I leave behind two weighty things: the Holy Quran, and my revered family. And he who holds firm to these two will never go astray."

Of course, that is the ultimate legacy...followed by Muslims all over.

But for flawed mortal like me...how do I want to be remembered? Or will I ever be remembered?

About two years ago, I had an uncle who suffered from prostrate cancer. He had married late in life, and his two children are about the same ages as mine. The illness took its toll on him, and his once much admired physique was reduced to skin and bones; ravaged by the terminal illness.

It was painful to watch him waste away. But his spirit remained admirable.
He went about...making preparations for his passing. He spoke to his children to prepare them, telling his son to be 'the man of the house.' He put his finances in order, so that the family will be provided for. He made his peace with all his friends, and sought forgiveness from everyone.

It was tough for us; who were praying for him to get well.
But the more we hoped for a miracle, the more openly he spoke about what he wanted done. He spoke about regrets, but he made the most of his last days.

A day before his passing, he had looked well, and we were lulled into thinking that he was on his way to recovery. He spoke over and over again of 'going home'.

After I recited a prayer into his ear, he took my hand, and beckoned me to come near. "I entrust you...to help look out for my son and daughter...their education." The voice was faint, but clear. My eyes brimmed over, as I watched the laboured breathing. "Don't cry. God loves me. I get to say goodbye." I clenched his cold, clammy hands, as if willing to transfer some of life's energy back to him.

His last hours were 'peaceful'. He had refused morphine to take away the pain, so that his mind would be clear, and that he could recite God's name. I thought that whenever he was lucid, he would gaze at his family, drinking in their images...

When he drew his last breath, only his wife was there, saying the last prayer for him. I knew that he got his wish, for no one else was there, by his bed, to cry.

In retrospect, he was indeed blessed...a man who got to leave a legacy of bravery and deep faith for his children to follow.

What will I leave behind?
God...show me the way.

In memory of Abdul Alim Sidik bin Abdul Hamid -
Al-Fatihah.

Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear to Tread

Fools Rush in where Angels Fear to Tread
- Alexander Pope -

I have been thinking a lot about mortality lately, especially since the issue of euthanasia was brought up. Pretty soon, I am sure, this will be officially tabled at a parliament sitting.

It is obvious that the public debate is heating up. The heads of some religious organisations have firmly said no. Many doctors (thank you Hippocratic Oath!)have come forward to voice their objections against what the other camp has advocated as 'mercy killing'.

On the other side of the fence, there are also many; especially from those who are facing illnesses themselves, who are pleading that euthanasia is indeed 'merciful' for one who is so very ill.

Both camps have their reasons for their very strong views on the matter, and I can expect a lot more discussion and debate on this matter.

In one of the letters to the FP, man wrote of his father's suffering, and of his "needless pain". Much to his chagrin, he wrote "I thought the doctors were cruel and misguided by a code of OBSELETE EHICS formulated more than 2 000 years ago." He then made an impassioned plea that the goverment improve the living will to allow "patients like my father to die in comfort and in dignity if they so wish."

The second article worth mentioning is "Allowing euthanasia is no panacea". A 72-year-old woman had also made a similar plea, for she says "there comes a time when life to the elderly is meaningless...and he or she does not want it anymore."

As mortals, we know we all live on borrowed time...and we mentally can envision the sands of time slipping down the hour glass.

I have very firm views again euthanasia...I am against it.
But I want to reflect on the idea of 'choice'.
Man have come to accept that that we have absolutely no say when it comes to matters like birth....that we cannot choose not to be born, nor can we choose our parents. That's divine right.

So can we really ever choose ' to die in comfort and dignity '? If the above logic applies...we may all wish for it, ...but it is beyond our hands.

Life...is short...
No matter how long you live, there will always be things that will not be fulfilled..

All is not lost...yet.
I will pray...that should my time come, I can leave, ready to face my Creator...that I have carried out my responsibilities and obligations, and that I I have lived a meaningful life.

Dear God,
When that time comes, be merciful...Ameen

of auras and vibes

Of Auras and Vibes...

The colours I sense are not right today...in fact the vibes are very unsettling.
I cannot put a finger on it. I think that the closest phrase to describe it would be the sensation of 'when someone walks over your grave.'

I am not able to fully comprehend, and sometimes, the signals are mixed and convoluted. That is why I think it is crucial to find the reasons why.

The freakiest experience was the other night. As a light sleeper, I am easily awakened by the slightest sound or movements. I had reached for the phone even before it rang. I wanted to speak, but I could hear a tirade of words being exchanged.

"Hello?" From being groggy, I bolted upright, for the prickly sensations tingled and put the nerves to full alert.

It was eerie...I know that there must have apparently be a crossed line. Who was trying to talk to me? My caller was silent...but there was a genuine conversation taking place...embedded between my caller and I.

I am sure we have, at some point eavesdrop. But this was different. It felt as if I was being forced to listen...to something, and do something

The voices were harsh...the tones were worried. This was no crank call. Obviously, the two parties on the line, could not hear me mumbling hello several times. So who had called me?

It was surreal because...'they' were speaking in a language I could not understand...but ...but...I can 'undertand'...to catch the nuances, to glean the meaning.

If you think I may have been dreaming, let me tell you this...My son was awakened when he heard me in worried tones. I passed the phone to him to listen...and his eyes too widened.

Don't ask me why I did not put end the call...Lets just say, something compelled me to just keep on listening...until...the conversation ended with a short sharp scream....before the line went dead.

Someone may be in trouble...I don't know who...or why.
And more frighteningly...the colours I am losing only comes...when I am near someone..who is very close to me...

Dear God,
Please watch over everyone who means something to me - Ameen

Memories are made of...

Memories are made of ...

Auld lang syne always comes a little earlier for me.
This is because, that classic melody is sung at each graduation ceremony that the school holds for its graduating classes for the year.

You may think that I would be a veteran at saying goodbye.
Unfortunately, the years of experience do not make it any easier. It is true that there are days when you feel that I simply cannot wait for these young people to leave,..but when that day comes...it is tough.

The nature of my job now does not allow me to have my own form class...But that does not mean I am detached from the kids. (I look back with fondness the memories of the classes that I grew up with ...for I remained their FT for 4 long...long...long years)

This year, especially, I had taken over from others at odd periods, and one of the greatest challenges was building rapport for I was not sure how I would fit in, or how they would respond to me. (Plus I am getting on in age...and perhaps more unyielding).

But like I always believe, things happen for a reason...and I found myself blessed getting to know a group of hardworking, and fun-loving young people. (Yea...there is a lot of hope for the world)

So to class of 08...and those whom I have called my own...my prayers and hopes go with you.

Thank you for
- the laughter and the tears
= the gratification and frustration
- the good and bad times
- and the beautiful memories.

All the best in making your mark in the world.

Love
Mdm Dee

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones

Quixote is still on his quest...and today, he was trying to comprehend the idea of 'face'.

To us Asians, the concept of face is almost equivalent to the idea of dignity and pride. So it is hard when for us to accept criticisms, even constructive ones...said aloud it public.

The Malay community has two sayings...loosely translated, one is "Don't drop my water-face", and the other is "Don't smear charcoal on my face."...both speaks of how important it is to uphold one's good name and reputation.

So it never fails to amuse me when some kids these days get so riled up by 'he play my father's/mother's name.' They are willing to exchange insults, and trade blows because of this...name-wrangling game. It is as if the family pride...from generations long...are at stake , and no matter what, they have to win.

I told some of the kids this...
"Sticks and stones may break my bones...
But words will never harm me..."

It is an old rhyme...but something they have never heard about.
Name calling is something that has been happening for ages...some people maliciously insult others, goad, provoke, taunt with all kinds of nasty comments.

I know it is hard to stay resolute in the face of such actions. But sometimes, the best response...is not response at all. If you react, you are merely encouraging your tormentor who enjoys extracting such responses. That's how a bully get a sense of power.

I am not advocating violence...not do I support passivity. I think we have to think for ourselves...
Once when one of my children was taunted, I taught him this refrain..."Thank you for your feedback...I'll keep it in mind...if I have to."..and walk away.

One of my worst experiences was to have a child release a tirade of colourful expletives in my face...First I was angry...but kept cool...and slowly, as he became more agitated, I started to pray under my breathe...but standing firmly on my ground.
He thought I was cursing him...and walked away, swearing ...and promptly bumped into a wall!

Words are powerful...words can cause a lot of hurt and damage....words can destroy self-esteem and self-belief...
Do not allow others to inflict such on you...

However...sticks and stones on the other hand...can be powerful too.
Which was the batch who dropped the bench on my toes before speech day?...OWWWWWW! Now THAT....really hurt.

There's a Hero

There's a Hero
(for the people who made a difference, and those who will carry on.

The new song that I have added is called "There's a Hero". I tried to find a downloadable version by the original singer, Billy Gilman..but non available.This version is by an Australian singer, Troye.

Anyway, here are the lyrics which I find meaningful.
And I suppose, I can dedicate it to a special bunch of people who make up the class of 2008...Go and Make your mark in the world...ok?

There's a Hero - lyrics by Don Cook & Jake Jarvis

There's a flower in the smallest garden
Reaching for the light
There's a candle in the darkest corner
Conquering the night
There is amazing strength
In a willing hand
There are victories
That you've never planned

There's a hero
In everybody's heart


There's a fire inside of everybody
Burning clear & bright
There's a power in the faintest heartbeat
That cannot be denied
Go on and trust yourself
Cause you can ride the wind
You're gonna take your dreams
Where's they've never been

There's a hero
In everybody's heart

Go on and trust yourself
Cause you can ride the wind
You're gonna take your dreams
Where they've never been

There's a hero
In everybody's heart


I know that in one of my entries, I spoke of heroes like Lincoln, Gandhi and Mandela.
But for today, I want to talk about the unsung heroes that I know of.

Where I work, there is one person who is worthy of being put high up on a pedestal. Someone who is selfless, caring, compassionate, empathetic, resilient...who is the embodiment of what a true educator should be.

She is indeed a rare breed...and beside her, I am humbled.
She is my friend, and I think I have said this before...it will be years before I think I will ever reach up to her level.

This year, I will have to say goodbye to a person who, in a way, has come to be my mentor. His set expectations were rather high, and at times, I felt like giving up. But he taught me that you need to balance your head, and your heart...in order for me to move on. I want to thank him for his guidance all these years, for I think, I have grown.

What is a hero?
Don Quixote is still a hero, despite his lunacy...He dared to challenge, he dared to take risks, he dared to believe...he dared to fight for what he stood for. Maybe that is why, I think, he should have just kept on his quest...for sometimes, we fight alone.


The quest is still on...but today, I saw the windmills for what they really are.
I shall still continue with my journey, for I am learning more about myself.

Prayer for today
Dear God...let me choose the door that will allow me to get out.....

Tilting at the Windmills

Tilting at the Windmills

Poor Don Quixote.
He had the most noble of ideas, and the purest of values. He was a man of honour and virtue.
Yet the people around him, at their most kind moment, labelled him a fool.

He was considered a lunatic, he was insane.
He went about tilting at the windmills which, in his mind, were giants that he had to kill.

Am I tilting at windmills too?
when doing is not equal to achieving?
when thinking is not equal to rationalising?
when talking is not communicating?
when hearing is not listening?
when looking is not seeing...

Don't think...don't think...
Feel....
Understand....
Respond...

I am not through with the whimsical wanderlust...
Until I find the answers I seek, I will fly along.

Prayer for today:
God, you have shown me that when one door closes, somehow, you will help me find another that is open. Alhamdulillah.

Quixotic Quests

Quixotic Quests

There are days...and then...there are days.

I need to exhale.
So I am setting off on a whimsical journey.
I found a new rainbow to chase...It's called the Fire Rainbow (hey...google it if you do not believe me), and it is one of the most beautiful things ever.

There is no need for logic...there is no need for reason.
There is no need to see things in a rigid straight line.
No black or white...

There are times, when we need to be like Don Quixote...
for, ironically, that is the best way to hang on to our sanity.

Prayer for today:
God...only you know why. Ameen

Growing Up

Growing Up...
(Where did the time go?)

I make it a habit to 'date' my children. When I was frantically trying to complete my Masters, there were many a time when I felt I had not given enough attention and time to them...It was bad already when I spent so much time (before the sun rises, and after the sun sets) at work, and this was added to the extra hours for evening classes, and even at home...reading and completing assignments.

So whenever possible, I snatch whatever time was available to connect with Zafran, Zarifah & Akmal, together, or individually. The moments we spend together eating and talking are very precious. If there is anything I have learnt over the years dealing with teens, it is that open communication is very important. I cherish the time when they tell me about many things under the sun...and that it is crucial that I get to know a little more about what's going on in their lives.

I know there will come a point when I have to let go of the apron strings. As it is now, they are all so involved with their own personal schedules...with schools, friends, and pursuing their own areas of interests. They grow so fast...

I come back to the point about 'dating'. I had the most 'interesting' conversation with Zafran last week.

Mind you, because he has such 'nosey' and easily excitable younger siblings, it is hard for him to keep secrets. But hey...I think as a mum,I know my son a little more than he even cares to think. The signs were there...a little dreamy...a little sheepish sometimes...a little goofy...(hey...Mama was young once too!)

I could have broken out into a 'freaked-to-the-max' mode...but instead, I held back. So far, I have been spared most of the heart-attack inducing teens' angsts and rebellion. I trust him, I am confident of him. I know that he will not jeopardise his exams just because he has stars in his eyes.

So with a little hesitation...and a little bit of prompting, he began to speak about his interest in an individual...(hi...if you are reading this, I hope you understand). He spoke about what a good friend she is, and how she has been a source of motivation. He assured me that I have no grounds to worry, "Please believe that you have raised me right". (Sob...sob...thank you)

Whoa...
I wonder if he realises that it was as tough for me to listen...as it was tough for him to talk to me. There were so many mixed emotions...and the internal alarm bells that were ringing incessantly in my head.

Sure, in the past, it has been easy to advise my other 'kids'...from K, A, M, B, F...and those who bring your partners to me for the 'first level screening"...It seemed to easy to say, "Go and be honest to your own mother...she will understand." I am now at the receiving end. Can I still remain rational and understanding?

These past few evenings, I have been repeatedly playing mental pictures of my little boy growing up...from the cute little baby, to the sweet-mannered child who gives me big hugs...Zafran in his uniform as he received his award...to the gangly teen he is now...From the child who will solemnly recite "I must never ride a motor-bike for my Mama will cry"...to "Er...can I learn how to fly a plane?"

Where did the time go? (Iffah & Akmal...don't grow up too fast ok?)

Much have been said about the bond between a mother and her sons...especially her first born. I do not think I have molly-coddled him, and made him a 'Mummy's Boy.". I do not indulge him, nor put him on a pedestal. I want him to be able to respect and treat every individual with respect and empathy. He will be able to think for himself. I put the faith of God in him, so that he will be anchored by values. I taught him to be independent, and stand on his own two feet, and also to take on responsibilities.

So why do I have such mixed feelings now? Do I feel threatened and insecure?
I do not really have an answer to that.
But I should be able to step back, and think of myself...and the way my parents raised me. I have been truly blessed, for having so many people to love, and who love me in return. Had my abah and mak been possessive, perhaps my growing up experiences would not have been so rich.

Some years ago, a very wise person told me of this paradox. If I think I have raised my child 'right'...then the faster the child will be able to spread his wings. ..and while I have the faith that he is ready...gosh...this is not going to be easy.

Well...it may seem like I am making a big deal out of this...but I trust my son to know that his priorities, and his goals. It is not as if I am letting go completely ...for there are still limits and boundaries.

But it is an exciting and interesting world out there waiting for him to discover and explore. He needs to find himself, and seek the direction he wants to take. And I hope he will always remember his roots, and there will always be people who care for him, and support him.

You are growing up, Zafran...
I trust you...I have faith in you.
Stay gold...
Let your inner compass direct you to seek what is best for you.
I love you.

Those who can, Do, those who can't Teach...

Those who can, Do, those who can't, Teach
(general exposition)

How many of you have heard of the above phrase?
The adage is attributed to Bernard Shaw who came up with in "Maxims for Revolutionists". And of course, because of the word "Teach", people like me, have become the butt of many a joke. It seems to imply that the educators are a breed of inept, inefficient and irrational people...

It seems to imply that those who end up in the teaching profession are people who have failed, or would likely end up as failures.

Does that mean that teachers are not the movers and shakers of the world? That those who teach do so because they can't "Do"? ....that the people who are supposedly to open up young minds, and 'mould the future', cannot become successful in the things they do?

I have heard many who have risen , and proudly proclaim "I made it through my own effort."..."or there was nothing I learnt in school that made me what I am" ..."School did not prepare me for life."....sigh.

So am I one of 'those who can't" ?

I speak in defence of people who are in the profession because they CAN DO....the people with the passion, and the knowledge...the skills, the committment...and the conviction that they do make a difference in the life of others. They TEACH...because they CAN...and they are among the best out there...the quiet, unobstrusive warriors and heroes.


Today
I learn to understand
Who I am
What I am
and Why I am the way I am...

The child, the adult, the rebel, the peacemaker
The friend, the adversary, the student, the teacher...
The roles I play are deep within my being.

I can choose...
to be who I am
what I want to be
How I want to be me...

To be the person who I really am
will change my sea of red to green to blue
I must learn to let go...
If I am to be really me....
(Dee - Nov 2008)


P/S: Today I had affirmation from one whose opinion really matters. Even though others may not think so, I rest assured...I am grateful

20 Questions

20 Questions

Hahahaha...I never thought I would succumb to doing something mindless.
But I guess this is what stress can do to a person. It has been quite a pressure-cooker week (ya...even though the students are out of school. ) Plus, my turtles have been kidnapped, and my chocolates have also been held for ransom. (Please J & C, please , please do not hurt my shelled friends. This weekend, I will get the Prestats to assure the safe return of my flippered ones)

So here is my way of releasing all that pent up emotions.
(who invented these pseudo-quack questions anyway?)

1. Do you have secrets?
Hello...do you think only those who are in the secret service and spy services
lead a life of mystery, espionage and double-dealings?
Of course I have secrets....my secret stash of chocolates...er...more chocolates..
and where to find the best chocolates! (shhhhh....)

2. Would you fall for a guy much older than you?
Alamak...will my hubby kill me? Of course I would...there's Pierce Brosnan,George
Clooney, Richard Gere...all the dashing, suave and debonair types lah. Well, my
Significant Other is a year older...so that is evidence right?

3. Do you enjoy going to school?
Er...can I skip this one? You heard the joke about this mother who has trouble
waking up her son. He will roll in bed, and make all kinds of excuses. Finally
she told him., "Hey...you cannot skip school. You are the Principal!" kekekeke

4. What will you do if you win a billion dollars?
Wah..inflation has hit us.In the past, questions like this would only talk about
winning a million bucks. Now that will not even buy a tiny apartmentin some areas
in Singapore...back to the question. Can I buy an island and lead a hermit's
life with that kind of money? (second option is to buy the Hershey, Ben & Jerry's
& Cadbury companies)

5. Will you ever fall in love with your BF's stead?
It took me a while to figure out these teen terminologies. BF apparently has
nothing to do with BO...but in my time, a 'stead' is a piece of property that you
own, or stake a claim on. So tell me, exactly how much did your BF pay for her
'stead'...only if he is worth a billion dollars, yes, then I will fall in love
with him.

6. If you have to choose between your BoyF, and your BestF, who would you choose?
Tsk...tsk...tsk...how values have changed...again in the past, you had to choose
between saving a parent and a BF. Hey, I have the best solution. I married my BF
is indeed my BF!

7. What is the one thing you desire now?
Geesh...I am 'materialistic' and I cannot make up my mind.
It is a toss up between a huge tub of Ben & Jerry's chocolate ice-cream and a one-
carat diamond I have been eyeing...But I think with that amount of money, B&J wins

8. What makes you extremely happy?
This is a no-brainer...see answer # 7.

9. What makes you angry?
Sigh...creators such such questionnaires doesn't understand...I get upset when I
do not get what I want in #7. (and warning to J&C...give me back my turtles or
I turn into the Incredible Hulk!)

10.What are your favourite colours?
Ah...does kaleidoscope counts?...red and yellow, green and blue, purple and orange
and pink and rose and amber and rust and...someone told me that my rainbow has
more than 7 colours of the spectrum. Colours tell my moods.

Ok...I shall stop here. I do not think I have the energy to do such wacky stuff right now. It is a lot of hard work answering these questions.
But if you want to find out more about how much of an oddball and nutty character I am, you can try to tag me on some of these stuff...

Hehehe...can I tag Sandra and Nissa?

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle...when the bough breaks

I always feel so happy when I get in touch with the kids I have not met or heard from for so long. This time, through one of the networks out there, "Sally" got in touch with me.( I do not think I want to use her real name at the moment...for you will understand the reasons as you read on.

"Cher, you still remember me? I am married now, and I have a darling little girl. I promise you that I will protect her so much so that she will never have to go through the things I experienced. Thank you for helping me move on." This was the message that accompanied a picture of her hugging a cute toddler.

Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree top

Sally...
Sally is still imprinted in my mind as a 13-year-old...Sally, the pretty little girl, but with the saddest limpid eyes. My Sally who did not trust easily, cowered when spoken to, and could not bear anyone to go near her. Sally may not have spoken much verbally, but her writing revealed so much.

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock

When Sally turned 15, she came out of her cocoon. There was such a transformation that I was puzzled. She found her voice; her spirit, and she rebelled. She literally could raise hell. I remembered talking to her parents...who promised that they would "rein her in"

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall

I found that they had been reining her in oh for so long. Once, during her wild outbursts, I took her aside. Like a deflated balloon all out of gas, she collapsed, and that was when I saw the long gashes to her legs. And the marks on her back...and the black and blue bruises here and there.



Down will come baby, cradle and all.

So that was how I found out about the physical and mental abuse. Back then, if such things happen within the family, the matter somehow was kept under wraps. She went on to live with her aunt, and quietly completed her education...and I never heard from her again...until yesterday.

The hand that rocks the cradle...as a parent,a mother, I simply cannot imagine how one can turn against your own flesh and blood. Man prides himself as being better than animals...because he is able to think and rationalize. But Man who prey on their offsprings are not better than the wild beasts...at least the animals that kill and eat their young do it for survival reasons.

It's scary.
Having children is one of the hardest(yet rewarding) responsibility that comes with marriage and parenthood. You are obligated to love, care for, nurture, protect the child you bring into the world. Yet many are shirking from fulfilling these. Some even go to the extent of becoming the monsters who haunt their children for life.

I know many of you have read "A Child Called IT", "Damaged" and so on. Let me tell you...there are many more untold stories just like these...more heart-wrenching than those.

If you are interested...try looking out for the articles on Kelsey Briggs...of how she lost her young life at three...by the hands that rock the cradle.

Sally, I am happy for you...and I believe that you will truly be a great mother to your child.

Dear God,
Please protect all the children of the world, the innocent, the trusting, the innocent souls. Give the wisdom to parents and adults who look after them so that they will do their best to raise their little ones in the best way ever. Ameen

You Reap What You Sow

“Sow a thought, and you reap an act;
Sow an act, and you reap a habit;
Sow a habit, and you reap a character;
Sow a character, and you reap a destiny”
- R.W. Emerson (?) or C. Reade (?)

I am still trying to find the real source of where those powerful lines came from. At this moment, it does not really matter. The bottom line is, if you think this through, you'll realise how simple , yet profound the message is.

You reap what you sow....basically speaking, the metaphor of planting is so appropriate...for the whole imagery of growth sprouts from there. Anything that is nurtured with lots of love, care, concern and a firm but fair hand, will thrive. A plant that is left to fend on its own will shrivel and die.

But at a higher level...
It talks about one being accountable and responsible for our own self.
"It all begins with me"...and the conscious choices that I make.

The power of intention comes from a single thought or idea. If we choose to think positive, our actions will then become positive...if we think otherwise, we then allow ourselves to act negatively. Our lookout does determine how we behave and do things.

I look up to the great men of the world...Lincoln, Gandhi, Mandela...so many others. Did they really become great? No...these men 'walked the talk'...living out and embodying the values they believe in. Was it fate that made them great...or did their character shaped their greatness? I truly believe that in the latter...for they all began as ordinary beings.

It is the positive attitude that enables them to see beneath the hardships and challenges so that they will not give up until they accomplish what they want. It is as if they are the masters of their fates; the captains of their souls. The difference perhaps between the ordinary, and extraordinary is that little "extra' - where they tell themselves to remain calm, stoic and resolute. That is the high level of expectation they had for themselves.

What is the purpose of today's random thoughts?
Just a timely reminder for me to think of what I have to think and do.I had an interesting proposal today. It seems that should I leave my current profession, some people deem that I may be worth more $100 per hour. Should I be reflecting $$$ in my eyes?
Hmmm...that's something to mull over.

The Ties That Bind

Yesterday, I attended the birthday party of one of my nephews. It was a family affair, but because my sis-in-law comes from a rather large family, Jeff's cousins from his mother's side amounted to more than 17 (I think). So the event was a noisy, happy affair.

As a child, I was never lonely. Grandma's house was a hive of activity most of the time, filled with endless chatter and the fragrant smell of freshly-pounded spices. I have many cousins (35 in total), and there was a bunch of us who were especially close because the age gap is minimal.

Oh how wonderful it was to have so many playmates and partners-in-crime. Back in the good old days where we had almost no electronic games...or even toys (hey, money was hard to come by), we still had the time of our lives. A little creativity and a streak of adventure were all that you would need to fill up your time.

There were enough of us to form 2 soccer teams. The leaders, Abang Amir, and Abang Aman made sure that no one was left out...and that the girls were never seen as weaklings. There were no stereotypical games...

With them, I learnt how to go into the big drains, and look for longkang fish...I built paper boats which we floated and held our mini races. We raced against trishaws, and took part in every possible dare....from climbing the drainpipes, to jumping the 'yeye' ropes and "lestik" (catapult) the lizards off the walls.

The boys taught the rest of the girls to be brave and resilient. They taught us how to physically fight, so that no one would dare bully us. We arm-wrestled, held our ground when we were stared at, and put on a brave front should anyone try to intimidate. Through them, I knew how to look for spiders, and tell the difference between the 'kang' and 'boo'...and I knew how to spit at open wounds to stop the bleeding. Being the daredevil, I climbed on to rickety zinc roofs, and once, slept right in the middle of a road...

On the other hand, the guys gave in to the girls when we decided to play 'home' or 'masak-masak'. We girls subjected them to baby-sitting our make believe dolls, and they learn to sing songs which girls only croon.

We had more than our fair share of squabbles and petty jealousies...but we also knew how to apologise and make up.

On the eve of Hari Raya, my grandma's humble abode became the most valued property on earth. Household chores became fun, because we were doing them together...amid the teasings and easy banter. We may not have the grandest decorations, or the brightest fairy lights...but there was so much love around that we never realised how 'financially deprived' we were. We just had each other...and that was enough.

I am not sure why I am feeling nostalgic at the moment.
It's just the idea how important family (both close and extended) is to me.
Almost all of my cousins are grown, and with families of their own. But I am so proud to say that the same closeness is still fostered and perpetuated today. Grandma may be gone, but she left us with such a rich legacy. We know, that through good and bad times, we will always have the family.


Pray for today:
Dear God, Thank you for my family...who have given me unwavering support. Thank you for the people who accepts me for who I am, and will put me in my place should I ever forget my roots. I remember Grandma, and I really, really miss her. Bless her soul, for she was truly the anchor who held all of us together.
Please allow my children to share the same joy and comfort of leading a simple and fulfilled life. Remind them of the ties that bind...must always be looked after, for they can also be the ties that break easily in today's society. - Ameen

The Original Teen Couple?

The Greatest Love Story of All

Yea...
For years I have been trying to entice the kids to read good old Willy Shakespeare. Their excuses for not doing so have ranged from "It's written in a dead language" to "How can the works fit into our contemporary life?"
Sigh...they never know what they are missing.

Then...it all came together. Why not show the kids that the angst and heartaches of the first love they lament about are really nothing new? And that the source of inspiration for many a teenage love story of forbidden love can actually be traced to a great ( yet 'ancient') love story? {[a little poetic license here - there is the tale of Pyramus & Thisbe]}

Yes kiddoes...move over Troy and Gabriella (or Edward & Bella)
Presenting the most well-known of all star-crossed lovers - Romeo and Juliet.
(er...the classes I teach will be more familiar with the shepherd boy Angelo and his girl).

Falling in love for the first time is an exhilarating, confusing, intoxicating and special experience. It's walking into unknown territory...and while you feel compelled to do give in to every impulsive you feel, you need to carefully make your way through the minefield of unpredictable emotions at the same time. It's worse for a teenager...whose hormones at different parts of the body do not work in tandem with rational thoughts. (Yes...I confess...I did do many, many, many stupid things donkey years ago too...!)

Anyway, what I managed to do was to get Zarifah interested in the plot first. Then I told her about the movie versions available. There are many...but I want to get you hooked to the Franco Zeffirelli's version....watch it before you read the book.
According to my girl, she loves the Romeo who looks likes Zac Efron , and watch out for one of the most beautiful girls who managed to capture the essence of what Juliet must have been like...Olivia Hussey.

If you watch the clips on Youtube...do not be put off by the words...just watch the actions, and the expressions of the young lovers...
And the young men out there, you may learn a thing a two about chilvary, and the language of love.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
(Romeo & Juliet - Act 2 Sc II)

Which girl (...make that which woman) would not swoon, at such a tribute?
Hehehehehe....be still my heart.





The clip is rather long...but let me tell you, it's worth it.
Enjoy.

Be True to Thyself

It's been quite a while since I last read up my lectures notes. Just as reading Maxwell gives me a kick, I found myself pondering over basis of economic and educational philosophy.

The theories the great Gurus present, truly rational, reflective and deep thinking at their best...but most talk about the ideal state. From Aristotles, to Kant to Mills, to Marx (and even recently...Greenspan who sadly admitted mea culpa). To me, Man is not God...and thus perfection does not exist.

We speak of a need to uphold Virtues and Values...I remember a wise speaker who addressed a crowd of educators and said this:
"I speak to you, not as a man of authority. I speak to you as an ordinary man; as a father to my children. I ask of you to be mindful of your role. Please , you are the one of the last bastions of virtues. Keep giving the children some anchors for life."

Wow...do you know what a tall order that can be?
But I felt rather saddened by his words...for the image of the "last bastion" is indeed a frightening one. Is that really a responsibility we have to take on with our hearts and soul?

One of the hardest virtues to uphold, I think, is Integrity.
What is it to be a person of integrity?
If it means being true to myself...I wonder if I can really do that...what with my mood swings, my insecurities, my shortcomings, my flaws. The strength of character is something I must work on. I need to lead myself first...in order to be able to lead others.

Have I been true to myself?
I wonder...not only in actions, in thoughts , in words...in the very things I believe it.

Hmmm...
I think it is time to pick up my 'bag' and go on that road to rediscovering myself...again. And as I do know, I will stop occasionally to ponder and wonder, to ask and learn. So come on Dee, get moving...you may really find that it is possible to fly.

P/S: Some of you will ask why the change in blogskin...Zarifah says I need a change...the old one was getting jaded. Sob...sob... I love the old skin...But this one is not too bad...for this one has the comment feature. So please feel free to add comments if you want to....even on my older entries.