To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear its not too late
We sometimes keep on complaining that there is "never enough time' to do the things we want to do. Or, we lament our luck when we are 'at the wrong place and the wrong time'. But how many of us really set aside our time to do the things that must be done, as well as for the things we want to do.
Time and tide wait for no man.
As as the hands of time pass by, and the sand slip down the hourglass, I suppose I must consciously change some of my bad habits. I will need to get down to doing my 'must do' very quickly, so that I can choose to indulge in my likes without feeling guilty.
With this Syawal, it is a time to seek forgiveness and start anew.
It is time to let go of the past, and look forward to the future, while fully living in the present.
It is a time to count my blessings.
It is a time to connect and re-connect with family and friends.
It's also the time to forgive and let go.
Selamat Hari Raya to one and all.
Maaf Zahir & Batin.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Why work against us?
The moment we decided to enforce tighter controls, we were bombarded with incessant calls by irate parents who demand answers why we are 'barbaric' and 'callous'. The issue? Hair.
Granted, a lot of the young ones today question the rationale of them not being able to adopt the lengths and styles they wish.
"What does hair length have got to do with studying?" is the rousing cry of protest.
I will throw this back to you to ponder.
"What does hair length have not got to with with studying?"
It goes back to not being able to see the bigger purpose; the bigger picture. Do you realise you cannot separate the trees from the forest.
What is the whole purpose of education?
Why do you come to school?
As educators, we have to uphold our responsibilities, duties and obligations.
If you think that we merely punish, and are very unreasonable, think again.
If you really cannot agree with us, and continue to undermine us, ... it seems that we are deemed as unsuitable to be the ones to educate your child.
Then please...raise your child.
For sad will be the day should I decide to simply deliver knowledge mechanically in class...and not be a 'teacher'.
Granted, a lot of the young ones today question the rationale of them not being able to adopt the lengths and styles they wish.
"What does hair length have got to do with studying?" is the rousing cry of protest.
I will throw this back to you to ponder.
"What does hair length have not got to with with studying?"
It goes back to not being able to see the bigger purpose; the bigger picture. Do you realise you cannot separate the trees from the forest.
What is the whole purpose of education?
Why do you come to school?
As educators, we have to uphold our responsibilities, duties and obligations.
If you think that we merely punish, and are very unreasonable, think again.
If you really cannot agree with us, and continue to undermine us, ... it seems that we are deemed as unsuitable to be the ones to educate your child.
Then please...raise your child.
For sad will be the day should I decide to simply deliver knowledge mechanically in class...and not be a 'teacher'.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Procrastinator
Dear One-who-leaves-things-to-the-last-minute,
We all seem to pay dearly for the choices we make right?
In your case, your inefficiency boils down to one thing. You lack self-belief.
You seem to think that you thrive on that last minute adrenaline rush. In reality, if panic is the motivating force, then the kind of work you do, is not likely to be your best. Be grateful that your brains are able to function...but don't you think that you are short-changing your own self?
It is so easy to come up with all kinds of excuses.
Why don't you just get your priorities straight? Do you really enjoy living on the edge? Don't you think that your life may just be more fulfilling if you are able to put things in focus...and meet your deadlines one at a time?
Sometimes, I wonder about you.
Is this the way to go?
Just me
Alter Ego
We all seem to pay dearly for the choices we make right?
In your case, your inefficiency boils down to one thing. You lack self-belief.
You seem to think that you thrive on that last minute adrenaline rush. In reality, if panic is the motivating force, then the kind of work you do, is not likely to be your best. Be grateful that your brains are able to function...but don't you think that you are short-changing your own self?
It is so easy to come up with all kinds of excuses.
Why don't you just get your priorities straight? Do you really enjoy living on the edge? Don't you think that your life may just be more fulfilling if you are able to put things in focus...and meet your deadlines one at a time?
Sometimes, I wonder about you.
Is this the way to go?
Just me
Alter Ego
Monday, September 14, 2009
Dance
This is for one of you who assured me that I should keep on writing stories. (Thank you for believing)
Dance
Lydia could feel the frustration building up within her. She could not understand why Mrs. Peterson was not paying attention to her. Was she not the star of the show? Within months of her joining the little ballet troupe, she has outshone and outperformed everyone else.
Unconsciously, she pouted as she watched the grey-haired instructor talking animatedly to a smaller girl who was looking very earnest. Mousy Melody. Lydia had wondered why this awkward, gangly and shy girl was part of the company in the first place. It had been so obvious to Lydia that Melody was a misfit. Not only did she not have the lithe bearings of a ballerina, she was the clumsiest person she had ever met.
Lydia had never really noticed Melody’s presence. The girl, for obvious reasons, always stood at the back of the class. While everyone flexed their limbs and warmed up, Melody sat and watched; her eyes big with wonder. When they pirouetted and went through the various movements, the girl would have her hands firmly fixed to the floor, and closed her eyes.
Everything about that girl screamed wrong. While the other young ladies spoke in low gracious tones, only once did Lydia hear a low guttural laugh coming from Melody. Lydia was repulsed for what followed after that sounded very much like the slurred speech of a drunken man. Yet the others had gravitated towards her, and often, Lydia would see people standing very close to Melody, speaking directly to her face.
Melody – what a cruel joke. To be christened as such, and yet without an ounce of rhythm and grace in her. Lydia turned away. She had better get back to practicing for her solo. She imagined herself on centre stage; with the spotlights following her.
“The best dancer amongst you,” Mrs. Peterson interrupted Lydia’s reverie. “…is not the one who is the most skilful, nor the prettiest, nor the most agile. It starts with a passion from your heart, and when you dance, you do not perform, you become one with the music. So find your soul. Today, someone wants to try. Melody, take your place.”
Lydia smirked. She thought she was going to enjoy this show. Hesitantly, Melody took to the dance floor the others had cleared for her. She looked very nervous. She faltered at first, her movements disjointed. Lydia felt it was even too embarrassing to watch. Then Melody took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began gliding around.
A hush fell over the room. It was eerie. There were no concertos, no beats; no sounds. Yet the transformation came before Lydia eyes, a nimble nymph with wings on her feet. Melody was not necessarily a ballerina, but she swayed as if her body and soul were one with the music – a music that was not there. Her moves were one with her emotions, and she was compelling to watch.
She fell to her knees when she ended, and opened her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. “I danced,” she said, softly. “I can.” It was a moment of triumph.
It was only when the applause died down that Lydia finally made the connection. It all made sense now. She bowed her head in shame as she felt that she has been taught the most humbling dance lesson ever. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Peterson leaned to whisper in her ear.
“You know now, don’t you? You see, Melody is deaf. But it does not mean she cannot hear the music. She shuts her eyes and imagines herself in that world of sound, and her body responds accordingly. She thinks she dances in her dreams, and today, she showed that in reality, it can be done. We, who can see and hear, must find ourselves from within. Dance from your heart. You will be great one day.”
Dance
Lydia could feel the frustration building up within her. She could not understand why Mrs. Peterson was not paying attention to her. Was she not the star of the show? Within months of her joining the little ballet troupe, she has outshone and outperformed everyone else.
Unconsciously, she pouted as she watched the grey-haired instructor talking animatedly to a smaller girl who was looking very earnest. Mousy Melody. Lydia had wondered why this awkward, gangly and shy girl was part of the company in the first place. It had been so obvious to Lydia that Melody was a misfit. Not only did she not have the lithe bearings of a ballerina, she was the clumsiest person she had ever met.
Lydia had never really noticed Melody’s presence. The girl, for obvious reasons, always stood at the back of the class. While everyone flexed their limbs and warmed up, Melody sat and watched; her eyes big with wonder. When they pirouetted and went through the various movements, the girl would have her hands firmly fixed to the floor, and closed her eyes.
Everything about that girl screamed wrong. While the other young ladies spoke in low gracious tones, only once did Lydia hear a low guttural laugh coming from Melody. Lydia was repulsed for what followed after that sounded very much like the slurred speech of a drunken man. Yet the others had gravitated towards her, and often, Lydia would see people standing very close to Melody, speaking directly to her face.
Melody – what a cruel joke. To be christened as such, and yet without an ounce of rhythm and grace in her. Lydia turned away. She had better get back to practicing for her solo. She imagined herself on centre stage; with the spotlights following her.
“The best dancer amongst you,” Mrs. Peterson interrupted Lydia’s reverie. “…is not the one who is the most skilful, nor the prettiest, nor the most agile. It starts with a passion from your heart, and when you dance, you do not perform, you become one with the music. So find your soul. Today, someone wants to try. Melody, take your place.”
Lydia smirked. She thought she was going to enjoy this show. Hesitantly, Melody took to the dance floor the others had cleared for her. She looked very nervous. She faltered at first, her movements disjointed. Lydia felt it was even too embarrassing to watch. Then Melody took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began gliding around.
A hush fell over the room. It was eerie. There were no concertos, no beats; no sounds. Yet the transformation came before Lydia eyes, a nimble nymph with wings on her feet. Melody was not necessarily a ballerina, but she swayed as if her body and soul were one with the music – a music that was not there. Her moves were one with her emotions, and she was compelling to watch.
She fell to her knees when she ended, and opened her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. “I danced,” she said, softly. “I can.” It was a moment of triumph.
It was only when the applause died down that Lydia finally made the connection. It all made sense now. She bowed her head in shame as she felt that she has been taught the most humbling dance lesson ever. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Peterson leaned to whisper in her ear.
“You know now, don’t you? You see, Melody is deaf. But it does not mean she cannot hear the music. She shuts her eyes and imagines herself in that world of sound, and her body responds accordingly. She thinks she dances in her dreams, and today, she showed that in reality, it can be done. We, who can see and hear, must find ourselves from within. Dance from your heart. You will be great one day.”
Expect Nothing in Return
If reality is a good teacher, sometimes I wonder why it is difficult for me to learn.
I should really laugh at my own folly.
Trust apparently is an outdated word.
Today's motto should be "Trust, but expect those that you do will let you down"
It has been proven true one too many times.
Sincerity is just as obsolete.
Offer help and the motives get questioned.
No one does good without a hidden agenda?
Just maybe...maybe people have been hurt too many times to put a premium on values.
I should not complain. After all, if I claim that I expect nothing in return, I should not feel pain, fear or frustration.
Dear you,
I am upset. I am angered.
But more with myself, rather than you.
...for allowing your actions, to make me lose faith in people.
I should not expect anything in return, I cannot, and will not.
I am no longer of any relevance.
I should really laugh at my own folly.
Trust apparently is an outdated word.
Today's motto should be "Trust, but expect those that you do will let you down"
It has been proven true one too many times.
Sincerity is just as obsolete.
Offer help and the motives get questioned.
No one does good without a hidden agenda?
Just maybe...maybe people have been hurt too many times to put a premium on values.
I should not complain. After all, if I claim that I expect nothing in return, I should not feel pain, fear or frustration.
Dear you,
I am upset. I am angered.
But more with myself, rather than you.
...for allowing your actions, to make me lose faith in people.
I should not expect anything in return, I cannot, and will not.
I am no longer of any relevance.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Bangsa Ku
"Ingatlah pesanan, Datuk Hang Tuah,
Tidak Melayu hilang di dunia
Jaga nama baik, maruah & ugama
Adab bangsa jangan diabaikan."
Hahaha...
Don't worry. I am going going to even try to continue in Malay.
(I apologise...it is not that I am not proud of my language, but my own deficiencies in the language is something that I will need to overcome)
"Tidah Melayu hilang di dunia"
This is a rallying cry...attributed to a legendary Malay warrior, Hang Tuah- through it has never been found in the hikayat annals.
But the point I want to touch about is what is found in the last two lines of that verse.
Roughly translated. it is a reminder to uphold the good name,dignity, honour, integrity and values of the Malay race.
I wonder...
Why do those who answer so proudly as 'cucu Datuk Hang Tuah' only see what they deem as 'injustices' against the race?
Or that it is 'Malay pride' that must never be challenged at all costs?
And all, that have held us so firmly anchored in the past...are blamed for our own 'backwardness'...for being 'kolot'?
I can only reflect, based on my own experiences...what I see happening in front of my eyes...the rise of the different 'pendekar' generation.
I am afraid...
Tidak Melayu hilang di dunia
Jaga nama baik, maruah & ugama
Adab bangsa jangan diabaikan."
Hahaha...
Don't worry. I am going going to even try to continue in Malay.
(I apologise...it is not that I am not proud of my language, but my own deficiencies in the language is something that I will need to overcome)
"Tidah Melayu hilang di dunia"
This is a rallying cry...attributed to a legendary Malay warrior, Hang Tuah- through it has never been found in the hikayat annals.
But the point I want to touch about is what is found in the last two lines of that verse.
Roughly translated. it is a reminder to uphold the good name,dignity, honour, integrity and values of the Malay race.
I wonder...
Why do those who answer so proudly as 'cucu Datuk Hang Tuah' only see what they deem as 'injustices' against the race?
Or that it is 'Malay pride' that must never be challenged at all costs?
And all, that have held us so firmly anchored in the past...are blamed for our own 'backwardness'...for being 'kolot'?
I can only reflect, based on my own experiences...what I see happening in front of my eyes...the rise of the different 'pendekar' generation.
I am afraid...
One and the Same
I found another poem which is food for thought:
The Soul of Thoughts
The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts.
Think only on those things that are in line with your principles
and can bear the full light of day.
The content of your character is your choice.
Day by day, what you choose, what you think, and what you do is what you become.
Your integrity is your destiny…it is the light that guides your way.
Heraclitus- Greek Poet
What I am, what I do ...
may be governed by a conscious, rational, disciplined process of thought and scrupulously logical deliberation
0r is my subconscious accumulating a junk heap of unwarranted conclusions, false generalizations, undefined contradictions, undigested slogans, unidentified wishes, doubts and fears, thrown together by chance ?
I am random...I am chaotic at times
and I allow myself to respond to impulse, gut feeling and 'heart'.
But now I realise, that in many ways, the head and the heart can work in tandem. That even when we do things instinctively, the head could already be two steps ahead..and that is why, the body responds accordingly.
"Reason stems from self-awareness; its function is to perceive that which exists by organizing observational data. It has the power to direct its own actions and check its conclusions, the power to maintain a certain relationship to the facts of reality.
Emotion, by contrast, is a faculty not of perception, but of reaction to one's perceptions. This kind of faculty has no power of observation and no volition; it has no means of independent access to reality, no means to guide its own course, and no capacity to monitor its own relationship to facts." - (adapted from Objective Philosophy)
So rather than ponder about contradictions, I should accept that reason and emotion keep each other in check. In fact, they work in harmony. The rational and irrational; the pragmatist and the dreamer, the optimist and the pessimist, are all within the same...They exist within my being.
The Soul of Thoughts
The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts.
Think only on those things that are in line with your principles
and can bear the full light of day.
The content of your character is your choice.
Day by day, what you choose, what you think, and what you do is what you become.
Your integrity is your destiny…it is the light that guides your way.
Heraclitus- Greek Poet
What I am, what I do ...
may be governed by a conscious, rational, disciplined process of thought and scrupulously logical deliberation
0r is my subconscious accumulating a junk heap of unwarranted conclusions, false generalizations, undefined contradictions, undigested slogans, unidentified wishes, doubts and fears, thrown together by chance ?
I am random...I am chaotic at times
and I allow myself to respond to impulse, gut feeling and 'heart'.
But now I realise, that in many ways, the head and the heart can work in tandem. That even when we do things instinctively, the head could already be two steps ahead..and that is why, the body responds accordingly.
"Reason stems from self-awareness; its function is to perceive that which exists by organizing observational data. It has the power to direct its own actions and check its conclusions, the power to maintain a certain relationship to the facts of reality.
Emotion, by contrast, is a faculty not of perception, but of reaction to one's perceptions. This kind of faculty has no power of observation and no volition; it has no means of independent access to reality, no means to guide its own course, and no capacity to monitor its own relationship to facts." - (adapted from Objective Philosophy)
So rather than ponder about contradictions, I should accept that reason and emotion keep each other in check. In fact, they work in harmony. The rational and irrational; the pragmatist and the dreamer, the optimist and the pessimist, are all within the same...They exist within my being.
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