Am I Happy? Guilty as Charged!

Posted on April 20, 2017 by sticky rice

Earlier this week, someone I was having coffee with asked me point blank as soon as we sat down with our cuppas: “Are you happy? Truly happy with your life as it is at the moment?” (You must be wondering where am I getting all these people from, whom are meeting me and throwing me weird random questions all the time).

I hesitated for a split second in my answer, not because I wasn’t sure if I was happy or not. I knew the answer to the question was a resounding “YES!”. I hesitated because I felt guilty that I was happy, almost like it was criminal to feel this way with the world going to pieces (Trump – oh yeah, North Korea, Russia, China, recession, and a lot of unhappy, sad, angry people that you read about in the newspapers and social media all the time).

In fact I wasn’t just happy. I was actually really joyful. The kind of joyfulness that invokes a silly grinning from cheek to cheek once in a while even when I am alone by myself. Even when my life is pretty much bursting at the seams with 4 kids and a graveyard shift of a 10-16 hour work night, pops of joy would stir up within me. And last I checked, I am perfectly sane and normal, not delusional and haven’t lost my marbles yet.

I would bet you though that I am not the only one who feels this way – a tinge of guilt at being happy. Society seems to encourage us to follow a certain beat in life – when you look at the people in the crowd, most people sit or stand or walk glum or stoic or solemn. There will be the occasional couple or cluster of students who are smiling or laughing together. But NO ONE (or almost no one) ever seems to be sitting or standing or walking alone smiling or grinning to themselves.

And even if one is happy, put a mask on one’s face and keep the light under a bush lest people around one start to smell the happiness and want to eject one like an undesirable virus that the body has caught. When I go for my runs grinning from ear to ear, it’s funny to observe how some people absolutely try so hard not to make eye contact and smile back. There was even a person who did make eye contact and then was trying so hard to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards. Why deny themselves a moment of happiness transfer?

I will continue to feel guilty about feeling happy for quite a while I reckon and that is not going to stop me from wearing my smile on my face wherever I go. So if you happen to see a random stranger smiling at you down the path, smile back – it might be me. Always Trust Magic!

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And how are you crazy?

Posted on April 19, 2017 by sticky rice

A friend forwarded me an NYT article recently titled “Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person”.

It was a well written article and the line that seized my imagination was: “In a wiser, more self-aware society than our own, a standard question on any early dinner date would be: “And how are you crazy?” ”

I love the notion of being able to ask anyone I meet for the first time over a cup of coffee or over a meal “And how are you crazy? And by the way here’s how I am crazy…”. Wouldn’t that make for a memorable first encounter?

In a world where we are supposed to fit in and be normal, where being a simple person is a compliment, preferred over complexity (which is really delusional because we are all complex personalities – unique and layered), we put on a façade every morning to present to the world of “perfect” strangers (did you just pick out the irony of how strangers can be “perfect”?) and normal acquaintances, so that we will appear perfect and normal too, hiding our flaws – the uniqueness and craziness that makes us us.

Too often, people who meet me, after brief introductions, would remark, “Wow, single mom, 4 kids, career – you must be a superwoman and a very organized and disciplined person” (aka a Stepford Wife). And I would honestly tell them that I am not a superwoman, that my house is in a state of perpetual mess, that I barely get by day-to-day with my kids and my schedule, that I do scream at my kids and that I am not as put-together as it seems on the surface (I sometimes wish I could just chuck all my worldly possessions onto a boat and sail around the world right now and when I can’t find something, I will turn the whole house over looking for it, which might partly explain the mess) – in effect, telling them this is how I am crazy.

My comment would inevitably be dismissed as a show of humility. And in that one broad stroke, the uncomfortableness of the crazy would be smoothed over and the world would be restored to being bubble gum peachy again, safe for acquaintances to engage without having to accept any messiness or ugliness. I much prefer crazy – I think it makes the world so much more fun and colourful and you get to know people really, truly and deeply.

So if you ever tell me you are a simple person, you are hereby given notice that I am going to be pretty dogged about figuring out just how you are crazy because I don’t think there really is such a thing as a simple person out there. And telling me that I am a bloody complex person might just be one of the best compliments that you can give me.

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Why you should smile (or better yet, grin) when you go running

Posted on April 18, 2017 by sticky rice

This morning, I went for a run with a difference.

Normally when I run, I put on my serious work-out face – sunglasses, no smile, just a determined focus on getting the distance/time done, cut off from the world with my ears plugged into my running playlist.

Today, I was in a deliciously good mood as I started my run. With earphones plugged into peppy Praise & Worship songs and a warm morning sun overhead, a smile kept teasing the corners of my mouth as I started to run. And then I thought “Oh what the heck, might as well go the whole nine yards.” And so I stopped fighting the happy feelings and started grinning happily (probably almost silly-ly) to myself and smiling at everyone as I ran.

Magic happened. The strides got lighter and everything I looked at took on a joyful hue. The guy who was at the park holding the sole of his slipper that had fallen off took on a comedic note. A guy sitting at the edge of the quarry playing his flute took on a happy glow. And pops of joy erupted from complete strangers who burst into a smile or grin in return. Life seems sweeter when you look at it though a rose-tinted smile.

I finished the run drenched in sweat and feeling light and fluffy, my spirit rejuvenated as much as my body. Perhaps the smiling increased by a few folds the adrenaline lift you normally would get from the exercise. Whatever the reason, I highly recommend a smile as the best accessory for your next run.

Always trust magic.

 

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In the still of early morn

Posted on April 18, 2017 by sticky rice

2:00 a.m.

Sleepless. In Singapore

3:00 a.m.

Supper. Amongst restless strangers.

3:30 a.m.

Walking. Silent footsteps beneath a full moon.

4:00 a.m.

Sitting. Calmed by peaceful still waters.

4:30 am.

Listening. Morning birds stir in the quiet.

5:00 am

Smelling. Sensing. The air changes, pulses.

A new day awakens.

Creation awakens.

God’s mercy is made new.

I am blessed.

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6575 days left – contemplating mortality

Posted on April 16, 2017 by sticky rice

It’s been 34 days since I started counting down to my EDD (estimated day i die). My blogs on the subject contemplating mortality have drawn two very different sets of responses.

The first group resonated with the perspective and talked about seizing the day. The second group thought I was downright morbid and depressing and probably a little bit crazy. (Depending on your view, you are either going to find this post even more inspiring or even more morbid. You have been warned).

Both views (and whatever shade in between) are not wrong. Mortality is always a sensitive topic and it’s all down to individual preference whether you want to stare death in the eye or ignore it until you have to confront it. Whichever your preference, death is going to be hanging around in the room, breathing in the same air we inhale. Since it is there, I proposed to myself that I should just learn to get comfortable with it and ask it to take a front row seat with me for the next 18 years as I try my darn best to live a good life.

When I was young, even up to my early 30s, death was a concept that would grip my heart in fear. I imagined what it would be like to die – would i really go to heaven/hell/purgatory or would it just be simply “lights out”. The “lights out” idea really bothered me a lot.

Then, I got busy with too many kids and I stopped thinking about it.

On my 42nd birthday (yes that’s how old I am) on Easter Sunday (today!), I decided to take stock of how many days have slipped past my fingers unconsciously since I started counting down at 6608 and if I have made a good account of the days that have passed since I resolved to do more, live more and love more. The number was 34. Which was a far smaller number than I had thought.

Perhaps with the countdown ticking away in my head, I’ve been living the past month or so in a bit of a zealous pace trying to pack in experiences, people and what not on top of an over the top work load and a really busy household. I helped with a retreat for 100+ 15 year olds bobbing along with them at Praise and Worship, attended a retreat for myself for the first time in (17+) years where I sang songs I sang in kindergarten (don’t ask!) and was born again in faith, met some amazing new people, booked a dive trip (it’s coming up), gotten tattooed twice over (no regrets!), volunteered to do more in church, prayed more, fasted more, and spent more time with my friends and family in deeper conversations punctuated with a lot more laughter and joy and always trusting magic in the process.

So instead of plunging me into despair, my count down seems to have fired me up. My eyes are on the clock, but instead of fear, I am seeing hope and already eagerly awaiting for the next spontaneous opportunity for a crazy day to present itself. I hope you won’t just be bystanders, do jump into the adventure with me too. Death can wait.

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Love, Suffering and Loneliness

Posted on April 10, 2017 by sticky rice

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“If you love, you will suffer. The only way to protect yourself against suffering is to protect yourself against love – and that is the greatest suffering of all, loneliness.” ~ Peter Kreeft.

 

 

I came across this quote as I was preparing for my catechism session last Friday. It continued to haunt me and I kept coming back to it again and again over the weekend.

When I shared this with my catechism kids Friday evening, they half-joked in their 14/15 year old Singlish wisdom that “like that do also die, don’t do also die lah”. And my half-joking Singlish rejoinder was “yar, but don’t do, you die lonely leh”. I would rather die loved/in love than die lonely.

And finally, this morning, whatever I was trying to noodle out of my subconscious over the weekend finally came: suffering perfects love.

Growing up in a society that is fed a junkie diet of romantic love in early Disney classics such as Sleeping Beauty/Snow White, Mills & Boons (I only read a few after which I realized that the remaining 1000+ titles were all just flavored variations of the same romantic formula), and candy-floss pop songs (I remember my convent school class dreaming of getting “lost in your eyes” as they listened to Debbie Gibson’s song of the same title over and over again on their walkmans – yours truly guiltily included), many of us bought into the concept of “Happily Ever After” as naïve hormone driven teenagers and young adults.

And we were therefore so not prepared for the reality of what love eventually (and sometimes rather quickly) will lead to and what and how we need to transcend the suffering that love brings to yield a more mature life-giving love. Some of us eventually make it but many don’t.

And it is not just in the love for someone who is a significant other, but also in the love of a child towards parents and siblings, in the love of a parent and in the love of friends that suffering eventually comes and demands a choice, a commitment to continue loving.

I shared with my catechism kids an example of what it could eventually mean to love through suffering and how suffering perfects love when illness strikes a loved one, in particular if it was a parent suffering from dementia. It was top of mind for me as a dear friend was just sharing her suffering with me a day before. It is hard enough to love even when one’s loving actions are acknowledged and reciprocated. With dementia, I can’t imagine how much harder it must be to love when the response that comes ranges from ambivalence to fear on bad days, and yet, those whose love has been perfected through that suffering will continue to serve that loved one everyday regardless of response. And that is both beautiful and gut-wrenching to watch.

A few beautiful and gut wrenching movies I love for their portrayal of love perfected through suffering are Iris (2001), Firefly Dreams (2001), The Notebook (2004),  and A Beautiful Life ( 不再让你孤单) (2011). I hope they will inspire you to love more perfectly as they have inspired me to try and do so.

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ATM (Always Trust Magic) again!

Posted on April 4, 2017 by sticky rice

ATM

Magic happened again today. A moment appeared this morning unplanned and unexpected and I allowed myself to slow down, recognize the moment and make magic happen. (see my other blog: ATM = Always Trust Magic)

Before I talk about the moment itself, I have to say that the moment almost didn’t happen. It was the confluence of many seemingly small, inconsequential and random decisions that came together and intersected into a magnificent purposeful moment of grace and magic.

I had come out of the Conversion Experience Retreat reborn with fresh eyes on Sunday night and a fresh set of commitments, but tired out from the retreat, I overslept on Monday morning and missed morning mass (one of my commitments). So on introspection, I decided I needed to be more intentional and looking at my schedule, started setting aside time in my calendar (including today) to attend morning mass.

However, my work calls ended at 4:30 am on Tuesday morning and I was unsure if I would really wake up. To make matters worse, when I did wake up at 6:30 am, after less than 2 hours sleep, it was raining and I was so tempted to take a rain-check (pardon the pun) and sleep in. I decided to snooze. But 5 minutes later, I woke up, did the necessary hygiene in 5 minutes, pulled on some presentable clothes and got to morning mass on time (at 6:55am!). And I consoled myself that I would have some time to sleep when I get home from mass.

My parish priest was delivering the mass. “How opportune,” I thought to myself. My work call that was scheduled for after the morning mass had been cancelled a few hours earlier and I thought perhaps, it was God’s plan for me to catch up with my parish priest to follow up on an action/question from the retreat as I now had a few hours on my hand. And as mass proceeded, I became very much awake, which I thought was another star falling into alignment with my plans.

Then I heard a familiar voice of an acquaintance/friend from church reading the morning psalms. It was so beautifully read, it stirred me. And so, I made a mental note to also say hi to the person after mass.

When mass ended, I hung around church and bumped into the parish priest first. He was busy immediately after mass so it was going to have to be a meeting scheduled at another time. Hmmm, so my plan got scrapped. Well, I would hang around and say hi to my friend before I go home I thought.

What followed a cheerful “Good Morning” was totally unexpected and absolutely beautiful. In an unplanned 2 hours breakfast after mass, I shared my experience from my retreat. And she needed exactly to hear what I had to share. She had been going through some very big challenges and had been suffering for 17 years under a lot of emotional anguish and had been praying so hard clinging to Jesus.

My sharing of my conversion experience, the gospel passages that touched me in the past few days spoke to what she had been struggling with and were similar to what the parish priests had been guiding her on. I was privileged with her sharing of her challenges and fears with me – something she would not have thought of sharing with a person that she has only met in mid February this year and which she has kept bottled for years.

When we parted ways, she told me she was light and happy for the first time in years. And she felt that God had answered her prayer intentions in terms of clarity of his plan for her and she was assured of God’s love. WOW! I was just brimming again with joy for being able to be a vessel of God’s grace and allowing his goodness to work through me.

Another magical day. So as I mentioned in my original ATM post, I believe all of us are presented with many moments like these every day, poignant with potential for magic. All that it requires is that we choose to slow down and recognize the moment and do something to make magic happen. Will you trust the magic?

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Like the woman at the well

Posted on March 30, 2017 by sticky rice

Last night, I slept in a bunk bed – the first time in 27 years, sharing a dormitory with 9 other women, living a simpler communal existence focusing on the spiritual.

I am attending the Conversion Experience Retreat #56 at the Catholic Spirituality Centre. I was really blessed to get into the retreat – balloted in February and got in on the first attempt (#113 of 120!).

When I checked in to the retreat yesterday morning, I found I was assigned to the group Patience. Hmmm, was this a breadcrumb message from God? After all, I have been praying to grow in patience (God only knows how much I need, being a mother of 4 girls!).

They have said that this was a special retreat – God calls you when it is the right time to catch the wave on your spiritual journey and He will set people on your path for reasons He knows in His plan for you – so I have been told. What is the wave I am going to catch? Who will I meet?

Some of the answers came soon enough. At the first session in the morning when I walked into a sea of strangers in the hall, I came across an old friend from my past – Uncle Alex from St Vincent de Paul – someone who had been key in my formation as a newly baptized Catholic pulling me into the Choir ministry at the time, and who was the person who pulled together the hymns for my church wedding. He was someone who played a supporting role in the romantic phase of my love story with my ex, bringing my past back into this retreat.

And when Archbishop William Goh opened the session with John 4:5-42, It was the passage of the woman at the well. I was shocked.

When I got the ballot into the retreat a month and a half ago, I did think there would be healing involved to do with my failed relationship. But at the time, the future seemed hazy and I was still early in the stages of discerning what I had wanted to get out of the retreat. Fast forward to last weekend and I knew exactly what I wanted to ask and discern. I knew how broken and hungry I was and how upset I was with how my life plans have been thrown into disarray and I felt angry with the Catholic Church.

For here was the rub: As I was married in Church sacramentally, whilst I am now divorced in a civil process that was triggered by me in response to my-ex’s infidelity, I am not free to remarry and find love and companionship. Doing so would be considered committing a mortal sin of adultery.

“How unfair!” I had thought to myself. How can a God who loves me allow this injustice to happen. To be a good Catholic, I am being asked to choose to remain celibate after my ex had cheated, our live plans scuttled and broken to pieces, trusting my affective needs to God and God alone. It seems so much like a further insult to a deep wound.

So I walked into this retreat an angry and hungry woman seeking for answers to the above. And God answered hard and fast and tenderly. He is speaking and I am listening. Do pray for me, brothers and sisters, as I try to quieten the storm in my heart to allow God to heal and make whole again. ATM!

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Seriously, why is the internet obsessed with Wonder Woman’s armpits?

Posted on March 24, 2017 by sticky rice

BBysQGWSo I read today that the trailer for the new Wonder Woman movie was released and amidst all the action of Diana Prince kicking butt, folks on the internet appear to have fixated on the Amazonian’s armpits and questioned how she could possibly have time to shave and bleach her armpits whilst she is busy fighting the conflicts of the world.

For crying out loud, if any of them were comic book fans or fans of the original TV series starring Lynda Carter, they would know that Wonder Woman has always been impeccably groomed in her pits. Why can’t a girl save the world and ensure that she is well-groomed at the same time?

Besides, I have never heard the same question asked of Batman, Superman, or Captain America. No one has yet become obsessed with how these male superheroes would have time to keep themselves so boyishly clean shaven whilst saving the world, so why should this question be even directed at a female super hero and take away from her capability to hold her own amongst men?

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A false sense of connection

Posted on March 23, 2017 by sticky rice

A few weeks ago, I recall being shocked that there were women who were getting 2 hours of sleep a day because they were so busy responding to emails at work. Kai, who was facilitating a workshop for us where this admission came from, and I had a discussion shortly after the workshop about why that is.

First, I do want to declare that this is not just a Microsoft culture issue. Many people I have since observed (yours truly guiltily included) are spending a ton of time on emails, Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram, WhatsApp, wechat, etc. well into the wee hours of the night.

Perhaps the world has become a lonelier place and social media/emails have become the salve of loneliness for humankind, feeding our need for connectedness. And yet, the more we feed the social media/email monster, the more it spews back and the more we feed it, churning up a vicious upward spiral of response quid pro quid, resulting in sleep deprived individuals (yours truly again guiltily included) who do not necessarily wake up in the morning feeling less lonely.

I have spent evenings in great conversation with friends deep into the night, a drink in hand, phones forgotten to the side. Looking people in the eye when you speak with them and hearing hearty laughter with arms thumping the table makes for a richer connection than any amount of “lol” or “lmao” or emojis can ever provide.

So often, I have found it near impossible to get friends to agree on a date to meet up for dinner together and yet, these friends would happily spend hours on social media posting/reading updates and the latest viral jokes safely cloistered (or cocooned) behind the walls of their homes. This is metaphorically starting to look like a scene from the Matrix, just that instead of a cluster of wires plugged into the back of our spine, our hands are the conduit that are plugged into the Matrix, feeding machines our loneliness and need for connection. Or as Morpheus described it, “Alice in Wonderland, falling down the Rabbit Hole”.

So before me, I see Morpheus’s blue and red pills. Tonight, am I going to take the blue pill and wake up in my bed believing whatever I want to believe, or am I going to take the red pill and see how deep the rabbit hole goes? I’m tired of feeling connected superficially and I yearn to hear people laugh and for people to hear me laugh (and not read any more lols). It’s a necessary evil to have emails, Twitter, FB and LinkedIn etc. but I am going to take the red pill and start spending more time in the real world connecting with real people hearing real laughter.

Oh, don’t worry, I will still pop in to the Matrix to post my blogs (it’s a necessary evil) but I am not going to really bother if you read it or not, or if you like it on my Twitter or FB page.

Now that you have read my post, what about you? Ready to take the red pill?

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