When love dies

It was strange.  This past week, a few people fielded me with questions about 'Love'.
I am no expert, and am still at times, pondering over it's significance.  This is one topic that lends itself to a whole spectrum of responses, and I must say, it really depends on the individuals.

The ancient Greeks, have 4 different words for love.
Agape - the traditional form of love - of happy thoughts and good feelings {Charity)
Eros - more of an attraction of desire, of passion and romance
Philia - the kind of comfortable feeling ...maybe between friends (Friendship)
Storge - affection ...like that of a parent for a child.(Affection)
(do read it up for yourself if you are interested)

But the one that really took me off guard, was this one.
The message was not one of hope.
"What happens when love dies?"

As it is, Love is such a complex emotion that it may , on the surface, seem easy to get rid of once it is no longer there.  But because love starts and grows from a certain point, it may have rooted deep within a person, and it is not easy to just let go.  We cannot switch on and off our emotions that easily.

Sadly, many a times, people get involved in relationships, or friendships, or even get married because they think they are 'in love'.  For some, it is the idea of falling in love with that idea itself that adds on to the confusion. Plus different perceptions of what love ought to be...we see now why, in an age of instant gratifications, marriages break down, and people are cynical about the idea.

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing."- Anonymous

I know this is getting mushy.
But back to the question again...what does one do when love dies?

Again there are no answers.
You choose...
a) to allow it to die, and move on
b) to try and re-ignite the spark
c) do a lot of soul searching
many,many options.

But don't forget one sad fact.
Yeats said, "Hearts are not had as a gift.. Hearts are earned.."
You must have one loved the other person, and now, search deep within yourself to keep just a tiny portion of that...so that they will not be replaced with strong, intense hate instead.

Be strong, dear one.
May god be with you.

Happy Birthday, Mak

Today, my mother reached a new milestone in her life.  She turns 70.  And like my sister puts it, "She looks damned good for her age." Alhamdulillah.

I think mak is enjoying herself at the moment. I am grateful for that, and she is certainly blessed.
Her growing years were difficult, because she was raised in a family of 10, with her as the youngest girl at no 7. (there would have been about 14 altogether, though 4 died at birth or childhood).  Her father, my grandfather whom I never got to meet, drove a 'casket' bus: - something convenient looking at the number of his brood.  My late grandma was a smart but tight-fisted woman who raised her brood somehow when she became a widow shortly after the birth of her youngest son.

Mak came under the care of Tok Hamid, (her mother's brother) who was one of the rare Malays who managed to get some education, and was a clerk at a government office. His own family was small (3 kids - rarity then), and he ensured that she too had some education.  So mak went to school and made it far enough to become a teacher.  But in general though, her life was still very very hard.

Mak was (and still is), a pretty lady.  (haha...yes, only my sis inherited those genes).  She was particular about the way she carried herself..."never mind if you are poor...but never be poor in values". That is one of her beliefs.  And she is such a people-person, that she goes around making friends to anyone she meets.

She met Abah...and in this area of love, she is one of the luckiest women in the world.  He adores her, and till today, panders to her whims and fancies.  I know of many other couples who envies their closeness.  Mum can sometimes be hard to please, but Abah has the patience of a saint when it comes to the idiosyncracies of his wife.

I grew up with a mother who worked...unlike so many of my Malay peers who had stayed home mothers.  The house ...er...just like mine right now...was perpetually in a state of mess, but that did not matter.  Sometimes there was no home cooked meals waiting, but we got by. 

Dare I say that I had always been the good, obedient child?
Somehow, she had drummed into me not to be wilful, though I picked up her sensitivities and impulsive nature.  I rarely had those clash of personalities arguments.  My sis says it is because I tend to take after my dad, in allowing things to slide.  Sis and mum though, are so alike that sparks fly when they disagree.

But mak made a lot of sacrifices.
And I see it so clearly now.  She was 'not there'...while I grew up, so now, she throws her energies into my kids.  She is their teacher, guide, friend, nagger, and grandmother.  She showers them with so much, and practically takes over some of the parenting role when I am not around.

I am so lucky and blessed.
Happy Birthday Mak.
May Allah Bless you always.  I pray for your good health, and that you will have a long, serene and contented life.  May you always be surrounded by love and happiness.
Ameen.
Love, Dibah

Walking in another person's shoes

There is a quote that I love from Harper Lee's classic," To Kill a Mockingbird."  In it, little Scout learns the meaning of empathy and acceptance when she was told, "•You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it."

We all know that no two people are alike.  And from there, many problems arise.
We all have our own beliefs, views, perceptions, values, philosophies of life; whatever.  Very often, as humans, we find it difficult to really see eye-to-eye over many issues. Man go to war over differences like these today.

Why is it so hard to walk in another man's shoes?
For one, it does not fit.  It does not feel right, nor does it seem right.
Yet if we make the effort and try, things may be a little different.

As a teacher, sometimes I think what it means to sit on the other side of the table.
From there, I learn about challenges , fears, frustrations and the need to have someone to keep believing in me.
I remind myself to have fun...for as I grow older, I seem to do that less and less.

As a mother, I remember what it was like being a giddy teen, wanting to make my mark in the world, or as the insecure teen who worries over friendship , and school, and self-image. Or as a tween...not an adult, and not so much a baby either, and not knowing when to behave as which.

As woman....hahah...shall I even discuss this?
Like a colleague once remarked to his male friend the other side, "Hey, can you please move back downstairs? There's too much estrogen talking in the room!" Hahaha.
Short of sparking off a gender war, I do make the effort to sense and reflect how men would feel and react (or is it the other way around?!)

But, walking in another person's shoes is an art by itself.
It is always very challenging. It is never easy.
If you want to do it, you really have to leave your mental, emotional and intellectual baggage behind.
And prepare yourself to embrace a whole new world sometimes...and it may not be something that you are ready for.

The art of walking in another person's shoes...seriously, means not using your head to rationalise things.
Because when you do that you are still measuring the other person by your own yardstick.
You cannot really question and shoot it down. You have to suspend beliefs and hold your tongue.

The art of doing so means;-
You have to FEEL like that person...to eat, breathe, think, react, communicate...in short, BE that other person for a while.
And when you finally SEE things through his eyes , sensations and experiences, hopefully , the understanding will come in.

So if there is any amongst you, who have attained such wisdom,
Teach me so I can learn.

In Full Bloom

I am home today...
It is the blessing I find; though being sick is not fun.
And yesterday's traumatic experience is something I do not wish to repeat.

As I scanned the papers this morning, something in the Forum Page of the Straits Times caught my eye. All the hullabaloo over the PSLE exam papers was put into perspective by a reader, Mr Ee Teck Tee.

I would like to quote these lines:
What is unfortunate is that in Singapore, a student's future is so often determined by just one examSome flowers which blossom late can also be of matchless beauty. Not doing well in any exam does not mean a student is inherently poor in that subject

His metaphor of the late bloomers remind us that it is high time that parents themselves stop pushing their children into the direction of academic success alone. Good results do not necessarily equate to a better future in today's context; neither do they reflect the 'quality' of the individual.

I will not be in school today to face parents. Like I once wrote on my updates on FB, "Red marks, red eyes & red faces - I hope that parents will not equate failure in exams to mean that the child is a total failure!"

I have seen my fair share of 'late bloomers'...and by God's will, how beautiful that can be. A child who was dogged with mediocre marks came to see me; head downcast and parents who could not understand "how come this one is so different...big brother and sister are university graduates...blah..blah.." This child however, had a gift. Give him a sketch pencil and a paintbrush, and caricatures come alive. He had a 'wicked'sense of humour, and I enjoyed many an afternoon listening to his ascerbic and witty exchanges with his peers. Today, he is a copywriter for one of the newspapers, and I am confident that he will make his way up.

I cannot speak enough of KC...who till today sometimes find it hard to shed his "I am just poly while they are high-fliers from top JCs."...For the umpteenth time, let me tell you, you earned your place there. By your own merit. What you may lack in terms of IQ, I am confident you will get by with your EQ and AQ.

The year end brought a mix bag of results from my own children. It was not the numbers of As scored, nor was I terribly upset by the U grades that appeared. It does not mean I am laid-back or not concerned. It meant that I value the effort and determination I saw behind those marks. I do try to accept the aptitude of each child,and understand appreciate that that the attitude in their approach will hopefully mean that there are in good stead to face the challenges of the future.

One of the plus points of staying in my school...is that I do get to see my true gems shine.
And I hope, that many more will continue to do so.

God,
A prayer of hope today for the many many buds which have yet to bloom.
Show the world that they too, can be spectacular someday.
Ameen.

When they all break down

One by one...
The signs are telling me something, and that I really need to watch out.
I know what I should be doing.
Yet, why do I chose to put them aside?

Have been up all night.
My threshold of pain is lower now.
Up there, something hammers incessantly
while the nerves get stretched to taut fragile lines.

Pain...is not good for sanity.

Child - Sylvia Plath

This is written by one of my favourite poet, Sylvia Plath

Child
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose names you meditate ---
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.



Her poems are sometimes dark and troubled, mirroring the inner recesses of her own mind. But dig deeper, and you will see the beauty in her style and the creativity of her imagery.

Does everything come with a price?

Over the past months, I have been following the progress of someone whose outlook on things sometimes run counter to my own beliefs and thinking. I have found myself wavering between hope and despair, with many many moments of exasperation in between.

Some asked me point blank why I even bother. Why would I allow someone, who clearly has an extremely strong will, affect me...It is most likely that he does not even realise that he has that ability to rattle me. Nor does this person seem to care about the way I feel.

I cannot answer that.
I know, that in God's grand scheme of things, somehow, this person is the one whom He entrusted upon me.
Yes, I know I speak of 'choices'...but even when I made the decision to draw the line, the chain of events that follow will ultimately lead me back to square 1.
So I accept my challenge, and I will follow through.

By right, this child is no different from the rest.
All have their stubborn streaks and moments of wilfulness. All caused heartaches and heartbreaks along the way. I have learnt to pick up the broken pieces and move on. Though I do not know if I will survive this one...or will be around long enough to follow through.

This child is a bundle of contractions if I may say so.
Detached, pragmatic and such a realist...that he unwittingly and silently screams for attention. Short of being cold and callous...he behaves in a manner as such because, he thinks is such - devoid of any capacity of feeling.There are times when I feel that my presence in his life must be likened to that of an annoying mosquito, buzzing around, trying to suck blood out of him. And yes, I have been felt the sensation of being smacked to death and flicked away.

But interestingly, nothing is ever good enough.
If you go deeper, it means that at least this person is capable of feeling albeit seemingly negative ones. And what follows, I see, is someone who is so scared of feelings that all are suppressed, never to be opened. It is so much safer that way. So "kill..or be killed".

To him, things that happen come at a price. Consequences of actions all reflect a cost; and the scales of the balance fall into disfavour because of one shortcoming, a flaw, or just plain bad luck. The actions of the future are all governed by what is done badly or not done in the past.

I find that very sad. A 'cost' deemed as the price one pays for actions; the toll, the sacrifice, the loss, the penalty, the damage incurred.

There is nothing I can do at the moment to change this. Even if I were to drop dead tomorrow will likely not have an impact.

But...I look up above, and I remember my amanah.
I will not give up on this child...at all costs.
Cost of being there for a child,any child , is priceless.
This is my duty, and I chose to do it willingly.

Dear God,
There are days...you know what I mean.
Do not let my own fears and insecurities overwhelm me.
Guide me.

Ameen.