Reflections – Jonathan Y. H. Sim

2014 Year-End Review (Part 1) – A Gap Year of Exploration

Wow… Time really flies, perhaps faster than ever before. It’s hard to believe that a year has passed because I still have very vivid memories of all the events that happened in the past year (and even further back in time).

I’ll have to say that the year 2014 has been the most challenging year ever. Yet, despite all these challenges and occasional set-backs, I feel like I’ve grown a lot, and gained a lot of insights. And to top that off, I’ve met a lot of profoundly inspiring and amazing people, many of whom have restored my faith in humanity, and given me new lenses with which to see the world.

It’s amazing!

In order to make sense of 2014, I really should talk about it in the context of 2013, only because 2013 was the year that I made a few major decisions on what to do with my life, and it’s only in 2014 that many of these decisions began to unfold in interesting ways.

(I realised, having written so much, that it would be unrealistic to cram all my year-end reviews in a single post. So I’ll split it into several parts. Here’s Part 1…)

A Gap Year of Exploration

At the end of my undergraduate life, I decided to take a gap year from study, so that I could take a step back to explore my options and discover what I might want to do with my life.

I was quite burnt out in my final year of university, to the extent that I didn’t want to go through the ordeal of writing papers night after night. It seems that the experience was so bad that it has developed in me, a small yet powerful dread of writing, to the extent that I don’t enjoy writing very much. In the past, I could just sit in front of the keyboard and words would flow from my mind through my fingers onto the screen. But now, I’m always confronted with a dread and a kind of mental block. Words don’t flow so easily, and it takes me some time to settle down and calm my mind to overcome that psychological obstacle.

Much as I love academic philosophy, I always had this nagging feeling that I might not want to pursue this, or at least not in the way that I encountered it in my undergraduate life. I love the learning, I love reading, I love the process of growth, but I just do not enjoy the painful process of writing academic papers. (But as I slowly come to realise: three positives versus one negative, maybe that’s not too bad? There is no career that is 100% enjoyable, is there? Well, that’s something I still need to discover for myself)

So, instead of plunging myself into graduate school like many of my peers. I figured it would be better to try other things. But I had a lot of reluctance because I couldn’t seem to find a first job that really interested me. Moreover, I was quite afraid that I’d end up doing mindless, meaningless tasks, no more than a cog in the machine.

That all changed one day when I met a professor for lunch one day. (Some introduction to the professor:) This was Prof. Lo Yuet Keung from the NUS Chinese Department. I never thought I would sit in for a class taught in Mandarin, but I did back when I was in my first year (2009). It was the only Chinese philo module that was offered at that time. Though I didn’t understand Chinese very well, I was blown-away by what I could understand. But most of all, Prof. Lo made a very deep and profound impression on me. He was the first person I encountered whom you could call a junzi (君子 gentleman). I looked at him and told myself: this is the type of awesome person I’d like to be. I wanted to study Chinese philosophy the way he did, to be transformed by the wisdom of the ancient philosophers, as he was.

Anyway, many years later, I was very touched to find out from a friend that Prof. Lo remembers me (even though I never interacted with him during or after class in any of his modules). So I decided to drop him an e-mail, asking if it were possible to have lunch. And we did. It was by far, the most life-changing lunch appointment ever. I shared with him my hesitations on applying for a job, and told him that maybe I should take up a course or some certification class. In reply, he said something that changed my reality for the better:

Prof. Lo said: “Why bother paying money to learn a skill, when you can be paid to learn?” He went on to elaborate that I should perceive each and every job as a course in itself. Lessons and insights to acquire every step of the way (and you get paid as well – a double bonus!).

That changed the way I looked at the world, and it helped me with my search. With great confidence, I set out to apply. I eventually landed with a job at an electronics company, handling both the marketing of electronics and training the people who used it. It was a lot of fun.

Half a year later, I got a call from Nanyang Technological University (NTU). They heard that I was looking for a research-related job, and they offered me a position to co-develop a course on Chinese philosophy with the Dean of the College, who was also quite a big name in the field of Chinese philosophy. It was an opportunity too good to miss. And I figured this would be ideal, as it might help me to decide whether or not I should pursue academia as a career.

I said yes, and it was by far the best decision of my life.

It’s been 10 months since I joined NTU. There’s been many challenges and difficult moments. But every step of the way has been meaningful, and it’s been great.

The greatest highlight of my time in NTU was to be involved in a project exploring ways to overcome the East-West barrier, how Chinese philosophy might help to enrich complexity thinking in the sciences (and social sciences), and how the two might just be related to each other. As part of this project, we organised two surveying workshops and invited several prominent researchers, directors of research institutes, and top public servants from around the world. It was amazing sitting in the midst of great and brilliant people.

This very experience gave me two very deep and profound realisations: (1) Firstly, it made me realise that my training in academic philosophy was insufficient in enabling me to comment on policy issues or matters of current affairs. I could listen and critique the ideas of others, but I’ve been unable to formulate anything positive on my part. This has been important to me as I’ve always aspired to be a public intellectual, using my philosophical skills to comment or critique pressing issues of society, or provide ideas, solutions or insights into certain matters. I always felt a sense of this inability, and in some ways, I’ve struggled with trying to write about such matters. But it was during those discussions that this inability became strongly apparent. Here I was, struggling with my training, knowledge, skills, and insights, yet what could I say? I could only speak theoretically (and naively even) about ideals, and I was unable to translate or connect it back to real events or issues. It was a challenge.

(2) Secondly, I came to the realisation that when you study philosophy along with several other disciplines, you will gain very interesting insights that you would not have acquired simply from the study of philosophy alone, or even from a mere interdisciplinary study of philosophy with one other discipline. No, it’s not just about one or two disciplines coming together. It is about bringing several disciplines together like a complete package (e.g. studying these disciplines together at the same time on a particular issue: philosophy, economics, politics, sociology, history). It is through this approach, that one could see certain issues very differently.

These two insights have changed my priorities and objectives. While I would still like to pursue a PhD in Philosophy, I would nonetheless like to branch out and study something else, maybe related to philosophy, but also related to other disciplines, as a good stepping stone in enabling me to address the two realisations above. I’m applying now for a Masters programme. But I’ll say more later once I’m done writing the proposal. What I can say now is that I’m going to take a rather unconventional route, but it seems that this choice will open more doors for me, and lead me to far greater growth.

With 2014 coming to an end, I realised I exceeded the time frame I gave myself when I took the gap year. I expected myself to have started graduate studies by now, or at least to move on to begin building my career.

For a while, I felt rather guilty, but recently, a very brilliant person commented that we all have cycles of activity and cycles of recuperation. Rather than to be worried about not being in the active cycle, I should instead focus (and not feel guilty) about my recuperation period, to recover and prepare myself intellectually, psychologically, and emotionally for all the great challenges and obstacles that will come my way once I begin graduate studies.

There should always be progress, but progress is to be made in the context of cycles of activity and recuperation. When such cycles are disrupted in the name of “progress”, it is not progress but haste. And it is in haste that we lose all insights and direction, and it is because of haste that we tire easily and burn ourselves much sooner than we expect.

In that case, I look forward to prepare myself slowly yet steadily for the changes to come next year.

With a new year starting, I think I now have a sense of what I’d like to pursue, at least over the next few years. In so many ways, I’m glad I didn’t simply rush into graduate school. I wouldn’t have had so many opportunities and life-changing insights. In 2013, I struggled so much trying to find some solution as to what to do next with my life, and thankfully, in 2014, I think I found the answer.

It has been a good year.

Fear is the Mind-Killer

Recently, The Girlfriend and I went to Batam for a short holiday. We didn’t plan this in advance, but it turns out that part of the itinerary included a visit to a place that does flying fox jumps for only S$6!

It isn’t very much, but it’s about 4-floors high.

The only reason why we were there was because it was part of another couple’s tour package (the tour group put us together in the same bus since our itineraries were almost the same). Since we were there, we thought – why not?

Now, here’s the thing… I’ve always had a paralysing fear of heights since young. Well, to be more exact, it’s not so much the fear of heights, but the fear of falling FROM heights. It’s so bad that when such a fear strikes, I can’t move. I’ll tremble in fear and grab on to the most stable thing I can find up there.

I remember that when I was young (before entering nursery school), I was at a particular playground with a suspension bridge (the Indiana Jones kind), and when I reached the middle of the bridge, I realised how high (for my age) I was. I was so paralysed by fear that I clung to the bridge’s suspension chains with all my life, crying for helping at the top of my voice. My parents had to run to me and carry me out of the bridge. The bridge wasn’t really that high. My parents could just lift me out from the bridge by standing next to it. That’s how low it was – but it felt like I was up in the sky at that age.

Anyway, over the years, it got better. I could climb ladders without worrying about dying or be paralysed by fear. So I thought, maybe I’ve outgrown that fear. After all, I’ve changed quite a lot over the years as I age. There used to be so many things that I used to hate eating. Today, I love eating them. There used to be so many things that I was afraid of. Today, they don’t bother me so much. The fear of falling from heights? I’ve not experienced that fear in a while, so I guess it’s gone. Right?

Well, so we paid our S$6, and walked up the steep flight of stairs up to the fourth floor. I asked The Girlfriend to go first so that I could take photos of her going down the flying fox.

Ready?

Go! Wheeee!

It definitely looked like a lot of fun! I really wanted to jump off and experience the thrill.

Then came my turn.

The operator signalled to me to stand at the edge of the post as he fixed the safety cables on me. As I stood there, I saw the vast horizon before me. Worse still, I made a fatal mistake – I looked down.

Immediately, the once familiar fear of (falling from) heights returned in full force.

My legs felt like jelly and I pretty much freaked out very badly. The operator kept asking me to position myself in a seating position so that he could push me off the post (you need to get into a seating position so that the safety vest around your hips and groin wouldn’t suddenly tighten because of the fall and injure your crown jewels). At that point, I kinda lost it. I freaked out and started yelling: “TAK BOLEH!!! TAK BOLEH!!! SAYA TAK BOLEH!!!!!” (Translation: Cannot! Cannot! I cannot do this!!!)

Anyway, the Operator wasn’t very helpful. He kept trying to push me off the post. He said something (in Indonesian) along the lines of, “Don’t worry, it’s safe!”

Hmm… Pushing someone off while telling him that everything’s gonna be alright, while the poor guy’s holding on to stuff to save his life DOES NOT assure him that things are alright. It just freaked me out even more.

The operator gave up and allowed me to climb down the post. Unfortunately, that was quite a horrible ordeal. Now that I’ve been paralysed by fear, going down the super steep staircase was really a challenge. I think it took me about 15-20 minutes to crawl my way down.

It was pretty embarrassing.

Anyway, gosh… It looks like I’ve still not overcome this fear. To think I told The Girlfriend that we should do para-gliding sometime in the future. Looks like that option’s out.

It’s amazing how powerful fear can be. Someone recently mentioned that people are driven by two things: (1) the things they desire, and (2) the things they fear.

We all have our fears and insecurities. But it’s easy to forget how our fears can shape our perception of the world by taking something that’s value-neutral and transforming it into something dark, wretched, and/or scary. It’s easy to forget that fear has the power to paralyse us, and even to make us act so irrationally even if we have been assured or seen enough empirical proof that everything will be ok.

This fear of (falling from) heights is quite ridiculous. But equally ridiculous are the fear of being ostracised, the fear of failure, and perhaps worse of all, the fear of loneliness.

Though ridiculous, I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. We all have such fears. I admit that I too am driven by such fears occasionally.

The Chinese philosopher, Kuo Hsiang (郭象) said that people are basically what they are not – they’re constantly driven by what they lack. The one who feels most unloved will be driven by the fear of loneliness to be as popular and loved as possible. The one who feels unsuccessful will be driven by the fear of failure and constantly work towards success.

Ironically, it’s the ones who are so popular, friendly, and successful who tend to be the ones most plagued by such fears. The ones whom we think are the most ok in life are the ones who, ironically, are the most broken people in the world. But that being said, everyone is driven by at least one fear in their life (usually more, though).

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. It does motivate us to do something about our lives.

BUT, sometimes, we can be soooooo paralysed by our fears (just as how I was paralysed by my fear of heights), that we can become so terribly blind to see that we already have what we’ve been searching for. Or, we can be so blinded by our fears to see that things are actually ok (of course, it’s hard to be convinced in such a situation).

And of course, when the fear becomes too much to handle, sometimes bailing out seems like the best option (just as how I felt it was for me when I couldn’t do the jump).

I’m not going to say, “Fight your fears!” I think that’s rather cliche. We all know that we should face our fears.

But I’m writing this so that we learn how to be more human – so that we learn how to be more understanding of others, including ourselves.

There’s this odd misconception that being strong means not having to struggle with fear. I think that’s a problematic mindset because it makes us afraid of admitting to our fears, or daring to show any. Sure, courage is a virtue that’s highly commendable. But part of being human is about struggling with fear. We all have our fears. It may not be a healthy fear, but it’s still a fear nonetheless, and it’s part of the human condition, a part of our human experience, a part of what it means to be alive.

I know most people would laugh at my ridiculous fear of heights and my whole freaking-out incident. It’s amusing, I’ll grant you that. I think so too (on retrospect).

What touched me the most was the fact that The Girlfriend came to hug me after the incident because she remembered that I have this bad fear. And I think what made her most understanding about it is the fact that she too has her own paralysing fear of some creature-that-cannot-be-named.

I used to think that her fear was rather silly. But this episode was very eye-opening for me because after my freaking-out over the heights thing, I understood that we’re both the same and very human in many ways – we both have paralysing fears over stuff, and that it really isn’t easy to pluck up the courage to be strong in the face of our fears (it’s not impossible, but it takes a loooooooooot of moral strength to be able to do it – it’s not like anyone can summon it anytime they like; it doesn’t work that way).

Just as how we are struggling with our own fears in life, I think it’s useful that we recognise that everyone around us are struggling with their own fears too – whether they show it or not. They’re just as human as we are – we have our strengths and weaknesses, our hopes and fears, our joys and sorrows. We crave and yearn for a super hero to save us, but deep down, what we really seek is someone as human, as frail, as ridiculous, as we are. Because it’s only with such people are we able to best understand each other thanks to our shared similar experiences in life.

And I think when we begin to understand that we’re all struggling with our own fears, that we become more understanding of other people and the seemingly-irrational things that they do.

That’s what makes us human.

The pursuit of happiness is the pursuit of misery

In the days leading up to the end of 2011, I’ve been thinking back about the most important lessons that I have learnt throughout the course of the year.

Interestingly, one of the most important and useful lesson that I’ve come to realise is that the pursuit of happiness is as good as pursuing misery.

At first glance, it seems rather odd, but there is a lot of truth behind this principle.

One of the worse things we can do to ourselves is to ask the following questions: “Am I happy?” or “What else do I need to be happy?”

The reason why I say that the pursuit of happiness leads one to misery is due to the problem of language.

Perhaps it would be useful to provide an illustration of the problem: If I tell you that the sky is cloudy, what comes to your mind? Most people will say that the sky is grey. But is the sky really grey? Well, not always. You can have a blue sky despite it being cloudy. And for that matter, if it was night, the sky would be black. Unfortunately, when we use the term, “cloudy sky,” we carve out a particular conception of the sky which does not fully exhaust other possibilities, and for that matter, that conception may sometimes include other things which are simply not relevant to our own situation.

This has been a huge problem to Taoist philosophers, as highlighted in the Tao Te Ching:

道可道，非常道。名可名，非常名。無名天地之始；有名萬物之母。故常無欲，以觀其妙；常有欲，以觀其徼。此兩者，同出而異名，同謂之玄。玄之又玄，衆妙之門。

Ways can be guided; they are not fixed ways.
Names can be named; they are not fixed names.
“Absence” names the cosmic horizon,
“Presence names the mother of ten thousand natural kinds.
Fixing on “absence” is to want to view enigmas.
Fixing on “presence” is to want to view phenomena.
These two, emerging together, we name differently.
Conceiving of them as being one: call that “fathomless.”
Calling it “fathomless” is still not to fathom it.
… the door of a cluster of puzzles.

Tao Te Ching (道德經), n.1, trans. Chad Hansen (2009)

Therefore, when we ask ourselves the question, “Am I happy?” or “What must I do to be happy?”, we carve out a particular conception of what that happiness entails (and what it means to be unhappy), and use that as the benchmark for measuring our own happiness. But little do we know that that idea of what it means to be happy has its own flaws. We might already be happy, but as we compare our present situation with that ideal, we begin to see just how far away we are from that ideal of happiness (and see just how many of our present experiences are classed under “unhappiness”). And the more we do this comparison and see just how far we are from that “happy” ideal, the more miserable we feel. The conclusion, at the end of the day is – “Oh! I’m not happy.”

Whenever I’m busy concentrating on something, some people have a tendency to misinterpret my facial expression as that of feeling depressed. There used to be this moron who used to come up to me everyday asking me if I was really happy with my life every morning. What a way to spoil one’s day. I was actually feeling quite fine – serene and calm – with absolutely no tinge of negative emotions or thoughts. But when I was asked, “Are you happy? You look like you’re not.” I began comparing my present state with the ideal of what it means to be happy. And after a while, I became very very depressed.

It was only many years later when I started studying Chinese philosophy that I looked back and realised just how stupid I was in carrying out such a comparison. Of course I’d be miserable. And for that matter, anyone who does such a comparison will just end up feeling depressed, as one becomes convinced that one is far from happiness.

(While typing this, I realised that when we ask such questions about happiness, we unknowingly accept a fatal assumption. “What must I do to be happy?”, implies that one is currently unhappy and wants to get out of this situation. “Am I happy?” doubts the possibility that I am actually happy right here, and right now.)

And of course, the misery doesn’t end there. When we begin asking ourselves what we need to do to be happy, we try to force ourselves into a particular mold, doing our very best to fit into a vision of happiness.

But surely – one may ask – one could arrive at the destination and finally attain happiness, right?

Well, no.

The problem is that happiness is an ideal, an abstract concept with no detailed specifications of the final end. No matter how much one tries to fit into that ideal mold, when we try to compare our present state with that ideal vision, the present state will always appear to be far away from the ultimate goal.

Yes, we can be excellent in achieving something. But as long as that achievement exists in the real, concrete world, there will always be some imperfections. It is precisely because the ideal conception of happiness is so abstract, the fine details are stripped off (left out, as it were from the conception of happiness which we have carved in our minds). And because it lacks the fine details, it will always appear perfect, pure, unadulterated, and of course, infinitely better each and every single time we compare our present state with it.

And so, no matter how much one tries to chase after happiness, the comparison of the present state with the ideal is inevitable. And the more one dwells upon it, the more one thinks one is unhappy.

Happiness begins when we stop asking such questions, and start realising just how happy we already are – right here, right now. It is possible to be happy right here, right now! In fact, we may not realise it, but we are already be happy (even though it doesn’t necessarily correspond to the abstract ideal of happiness in our minds).

I might currently possess some negative feelings, such as sadness or loneliness, but that doesn’t mean that it mutually excludes happiness. It doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

And when we begin to realise just how happy we are in our present state, we begin to discover that the question, “Am I happy?” or “What must I do to be happy?”, are simply irrelevant questions – traps that we set for ourselves to make us depressed.

Happiness is now.

And since that realisation, I’ve been significantly happier than before.

In Memoriam

A few days ago, a friend of mine passed away.

I think more often than not, we commemorate the passing of great people so much that we forget to commemorate the passing of ordinary people. In the eyes of a few, an ordinary person is looked upon as someone far greater and far dearer than a personality, like Steve Jobs. It is truly a pity that we do not reflect upon the extraordinary lives with which these ordinary people had lived, and learn from those little marvels that tend to escape our attention.

For some strange reason, we seem to believe that the true mark of greatness involves the accomplishment of many great things. But the mark of greatness can be seen nonetheless in the accomplishment of not so great things. It’s so ordinary that it escapes our attention. And yet, it’s only when people, who have been near and dear to us, are gone, that we begin to look back and recognise that greatness in these people, only to sigh with regret that it’s only too late to appreciate the wonders that they have done.

One thing that I’d like to just focus on, as a tribute to my friend, Sally, is the profound influence that she has had on me, though I do not know her very well, nor for a very long time.

It recently occurred to me that our judgements about humanity in general is greatly shaped by the experiences we’ve had of people in our lives. People who declare, often with bitterness, like Thomas Hobbes, that “human nature is evil,” have more often than not, experienced so many hurts and disappointments in one life time that it’s hard for us to believe that good people do exist. If we were to come across someone who seems selfless, we can’t help but feel extreme skepticism about the person’s intentions. How can such a person ever be so good? What does he/she want out of me? Surely there’s an ulterior motive!

While it takes many horrible people in our younger days to give us a bad taste of humanity, it only takes at least one extraordinary individual to give us the hope and belief in the goodness of humanity, to be able to declare, as Mencius did that, “human nature is good!” It just takes one human person to do it – to show us the potentiality that is present in each and every individual to rise out of our wounded human condition to be so awesome and inspiring. When we have experienced the virtue of a person, when we have seen for ourselves just how possible it is for a person to be so loving, so compassionate, so forgiving – we know that it is possible for each and everyone of us, no matter how horrible we may be, to have the capacity to do just that. All we need is just one chance encounter with such an individual to change our lives forever. For once we have met such a person, we not only believe that it’s possible – we too are inspired to want to be like that person! No matter how many disappointments and hurts we have experienced, we will never lose our positive outlook of humanity.

I must say that I have been most fortunate to have had the encounter of a handful of inspiring and awesome individuals who have proved to me, in so many ways, the various aspects of human excellence. And among these handful of people, Sally was one of them.

As I have said earlier, I do not know her very well, nor have I known her for very long. But the short moments that I knew her was already quite an inspiration to me. My encounter with Sally made one very lasting impression that has influenced me greatly.

The first lasting mark Sally gave to me was that she was so closed to her daughter, that the two of them looked as though they were best friends rather than mother and daughter. This isn’t very common in Asian cultures. While it’s not impossible to treat one’s parents the same way one would treat a friend, it just doesn’t cross the mind of many that one could do that. Somehow, our culture has made us feel very awkward just thinking about that possibility. We may be close to our parents, but we will never be as close as to treat them the same way we would treat our friends. But that encounter was indeed an eye opener. And it has made me want to be as close to my parents in the same way Sally and her daughter were.

It’s really amazing what both mother and daughter did together. Like friends going for an overseas holiday, or participating in an activity, I’ve seen both Sally and her daughter do so many great and wonderful things together. So many great memories, so many awesome opportunities for laughter and for a chance to bond. I’m sure there are also bitter moments, when they have argued, but they were always able to patch up and resume doing so many things together.

More often than not, when our parents are old or have passed away, we begin to lament their loss, and wished that we could have done more for them, or spent more time with them. But it’s usually the case that we’re either too busy with our work, or too busy with our own friends that we neglect the very people under our roof. So near yet so far, as they say.

No, I do not want to be one of those people who will later say, “Gee… I wished I had spent more time with my parents/children.” I really want to be like Sally and her daughter, who have found the healthy balance of being with both family and friends, loving all, and neglecting none. I am sure Sally and her daughter, with all that time spent together, do not have that as a regret. If anything, Sally has left her daughter a treasure of beautiful memories of warmth and laughter.

Yeah… I think that’s the best thing one could ever leave behind – beautiful memories.

Regrets are the worst thing one could ever hold. It’s very painful especially when the person passes away, since there’s no more opportunity to do what you wanted to do with him/her or promised him/her. I know personally how regret feels because I had such an experience. I once visited this person who was terminally ill and promised to bring something for him. But then my school work got the best of me, and eventually I started procrastinating. Soon after, I got word that he had passed away. And then, the opportunity to fulfill that promise just disappeared into thin air. My heart was heavy for months. Not fulfilling one’s promise is bad enough. Not fulfilling one’s promise and to say goodbye to someone who was going to pass on – that’s worst! I still regret that mistake, though thankfully, the weight of the regret doesn’t feel so great now that so many years has passed.

Tomorrow, tomorrow! We can always do it tomorrow! Sure, we can do work tomorrow. Even if you are gone tomorrow, the work will continue since someone else will take your place. But when it comes to people, tomorrow is only probable. And unfortunately, people can’t stand in for you or for that other person. If we procrastinate our decision to spend the time with that person, one fine day he/she will just go, and we’ll hold that painful regret for a long time. Or we might be the one on the brink of death, only to regret not doing the important things with the people who are important to us.

The point is that regrets are just bad. It’s not worth having any – if possible. If anything, the advice to live with no regrets is probably the best advice on how one should live one’s life.

The best gift one could ever give to others would be the gift of beautiful memories. And who better to receive such a gift than the members of our family – parents, siblings, and children.

Thank you Sally for being awesome, and for being a beautiful example to me.

May you rest in peace.

Reflections Along the Singapore-Malaysia Railway Tracks

The railway tracks functions very well as a metaphor for a person’s life.

Sometimes, we have to walk the journey alone. But that’s ok because we’re surrounded by the beautiful blue sky.

But sometimes, the journey of life can be very scary – gloomy, even. At times, we have no choice but to walk through these moments of darkness – alone.

There are times where the darkness of the moment overwhelms us. Sometimes, we can’t help but feel severely burdened by the pain of walking alone.

Some unfortunately lose their soles because of this.

Jean-Paul Sartre said that, “Hell is other people.” But when we suffer from such dark moments of loneliness, we become our own hell. There’s no one to get in our way. There’s no one to annoy us. And yet, we feel so trapped, so imprisoned. It is as if our whole wings have been clipped, and our feet chained to the ground. In moments like these, we begin to crave for freedom like never before.

But what kind of freedom do we really need? Is it the freedom to go off the tracks? Or is it the freedom to touch the sky?

The darkness can be confusing. We know we want freedom, and yet we often don’t understand what it is that we truly need. And so, off we go chasing after a freedom which may not necessarily be the answer to our darkness.

But what does it profit a man to gain the world, but to lose his sole?

The greatest freedom comes when we begin to open our eyes to realise the many people – friends and strangers who are not yet friends – who are and have been walking along-side with us in such moments of darkness.

In such moments, the darkness doesn’t seem so dark anymore. When we begin to accept their friendship and help, the journey becomes more pleasant. The journey will still be rocky, but at the very least, we’re surrounded by fellow companions who are on the same journey. Soon enough, with their help, we find ourselves reaching the end of the tunnel, back out into the light.

Successfully perservering through such moments is like crossing over a bridge. It can be scary, but we can rest assured by the fact that we have friends waiting for us at the other end of the bridge.

At every moment of our lives, there is always at least one friend who accompanies us on our journey – whether we realise it or not.

As we continue walking on this journey of life, we’ll eventually meet the love of our life.

And at that beautiful moment of marriage, two tracks converge into one. But marriage isn’t just a merger of two lives. It brings together many many more! Friends and family from both tracks begin to walk along with us on that single track, chatting with us, annoying us, cheering us, working with us.

I think it’s important for us to always remember that the journey of life is always rocky. The ground is never gentle and smooth.

But no matter what, there’s always a beautiful blue sky covering us, watching over us. It’s a beauty that’s always there, but we rarely notice it. The secret of life is to always take a step back from the mad frenzy of life, look up, and contemplate the sky’s subtle beauty.

Destiny (命)

命 (ming) is often translated as fate, destiny, decree (Heaven’s Decree 天命), or even Divine Providence. But regardless of how this word is translated, and regardless of whether we really believe in fate/destiny/Providence, there is an important lesson that we can learn from 命 (ming).

There are many things in life that are beyond our control, and these things play a part in shaping the course of our future, as well as the successes and failures of our endeavours. Our beliefs about what led things to be that way (e.g. fate, Providence, chaos) doesn’t matter. What’s important is that we have to remind ourselves – time and time again – that there are things that are beyond our control whether we like it or not.

The fear of the unknown is one of our greatest fears. (It is most certainly one of mine!) It is this fear that paralyses us and prevents us from going forward in life. It is this same fear that makes us even more obsessed about being in control of things.

We want to be in control, we want information. After all, it’s my life! We probably wouldn’t worry so much if life was like a game with a reset button. But there doesn’t seem to be one! And so it seems as if there is very little room for trial and error. This is probably why we are often so worried about what happens to us in the future.

Here’s where one of Confucius’ famous sayings can help us a lot:

“不知命，無以為君子也。”

(translation mine:) The person who does not know 命 (ming) can never become a gentleman.

[Analects, 20.3]

The reason why such a person cannot become a gentleman is that this person ends up being ruled by his/her fears, and acts irrationally as a result. We all have similar experiences of this. When things don’t go our way, we get very upset, and we sometimes go to the extent of finding someone (or something) to blame and vent our frustration at for the failure. If not, we’d probably give in to our fears and desperately try to make sure things go our way, OR we do not even dare to do it, but instead opt for a safer route where in the end, we never really learn to live our own lives and be ourselves.

Sometimes, all it takes is for a friend to gently remind us that we can’t possibly be in control of everything OR just to take a step back from all that frenzy, to realise that we’ve been acting quite irrationally (and possibly, rather childishly).

So… What does it mean to know 命 (ming)? I think Fung Yu-Lan has a really good explanation:

To know 命 (ming) means to acknowledge the inevitability of the world as it exists, and so to disregard one’s external success or failure. If we can act in this way, we can, in a sense, never fail. For if we do our duty that duty through our very act is morally done, regardless of the external success or failure of our action.

As a result, we always shall be free from anxiety as to success or fear as to failure, and so shall be happy. This is why Confucius said: “知者不惑，仁者不憂，勇者不懼。 The wise are free from doubts; the virtuous from anxiety; the brave from fear.” (Analects, 9.29) Or again: “君子坦蕩蕩，小人長戚戚。 The gentleman is always happy; the petty man sad.” (Analects, 7.37)

[Fung Yu-Lan (馮友蘭), A Short History of Chinese Philosophy (New York: The Free Press, 1948), p.45]

One of my friends puts it very nicely:

To know 命 (ming) is to sit back and let the world take its course, and not be a control freak. For when you seek to control every aspect of your interactions with others you will be disapproved as a jerk. (And yes, its out of your control anyway.)

This is why 命 (ming) is currently my favourite word. I even wrote it and hung it at my door so that I’ll see it everytime I leave my room. This is to remind me that there are many things beyond my control, and so there’s really no point getting upset or anxious.

What’s more important is that I do the things that I have to do anyway. If it’s meant to be, then it shall be. If not, then 算了吧 (let it be)! And if we still find it hard to go through life like this (don’t worry – I struggle with it too), then we’re probably still trying hard to be in control of things beyond our control.

A Wounded Love is the Key to Healing a Wounded Soul

Sometimes, whenever it comes to romance, we can’t help but hold on to an ideal romantic picture where all is warm and fuzzy, where everyday is always a day of smiles and never will there ever be a day of sadness. Yet, the reality is that hurt is unavoidable.

What I’d like to do in this entry is to explain why hurt is, FORTUNATELY, a necessity for any relationship to blossom. Yes, that’s right, it is not a typo error. Hurt is indeed a blessing when it happens in a relationship. It is painful and should rightly be avoided where possible, but there is something beautiful about it when it does happen when we least want it to occur.

Whether we like to admit it or not, deep in the depths of our very heart and soul, we all hold on to some hurt. We have been wounded at some point of our life – either because of rejection, insult, or neglect. But whatever it is, it is unfortunate that these incidents have left us scarred such that we develop insecurities and self-hatred in varying degrees as a result.

In those moments where we have experienced unkindness, we pick up lessons that we shouldn’t have: we begin to “learn” that there’s something about us that makes people dislike us.

Ironically, two seemingly contradictory things take place. The first is that we begin to dislike/hate those parts of ourselves that we thought to have led to those insults, rejection, and neglect. As a result, we end up becoming ashamed of those aspects of ourselves, and we try our best to hide them thinking them to be ugly and hideous. The second is that having thus been wounded by unlove, we become all the more desperate for love.

Yet, such painful moments of hurt have made us to believe that nobody will ever love us for those ugly parts of ourselves. And so we try our best to hide them, and yearn all the more for people to love us for those parts which we beautify. This is why we invest a lot of time and resources just to give others a good impression. But try as we may, deep down, we all know that behind that smile or look of confidence which we show, is someone who is weak and lonely.

While we may have many friends around us, we will continue to remain lonely because we are not looking for someone to love our beautiful side. What we really want – from the depths of our soul – is for someone to love us entirely – to love both the good side, but more so with our most ugly and detestable side.

It’s always easy to love that which is lovable. We know this because we all practice this. But because most people simply love our lovable sides, we are unsure if they truly love us for who we really are. At times, our insecurity drives us to question the sincerity of the person’s love since it has never ever been tested before.

Only when that detestable side has been revealed will a person’s love be tested. Yet, the irony is that we are afraid to reveal it. We have been enslaved by the chains of the fear of rejection. It’s already painful enough to be hurt once. The last thing we really want to go through is a repeat of that same hurt.

Yet, what we are thirsting for is that our detestable side be loved. All we want is for someone to experience both the best and the worst of our selves, and yet, tightly embrace us, saying, “It’s ok, I still love you.”

Or so most people think. But is that really sufficient to heal a wounded soul?

Actually, that’s still not enough. A person has yet to experience the worst of ourselves to the point that that beloved person has been hurt by us. That is when we have removed the mask which we have put on all along, and revealed our darkest inner-most part of our most hated self.

When that friend experiences first-hand, the hurt from our darkest, inner-most self, that is when that friend experiences our true self. It is at that very moment, when that friend is able to forgive and say, “I forgive you, and I love you,” that our darkest side, which now exposed, begins to experience the loving warmth it ceased to experience a long time ago when it was locked away at the first encounter of hurt.

This is when a wounded love begins to heal a wounded soul. As strange as it seems, it is the wounds of a broken heart that holds the key in unlocking the chains which has, for a long time, left us enslaved to our own self-hatred and fear. This is the love which liberates us and brings us to true freedom – a freedom more sweeter and more liberating than all other kinds of freedom.

Because we have finally encountered someone who loves us fully for who we are – the good, the bad, and the damn bloody ugly. Moreover, we begin to hear the truth about ourselves which we have surpressed for so long: that every bit of ourselves is wonderfully lovable.

It is unavoidable that hurts will occur in relationships. Human beings are like porcupines (or hedgehogs depending on which animal you prefer). Eventually, when we’re not careful, we will end up hurting or being hurt by the other. With strangers, we are extra careful. But with the people we love, we begin to relax a little because we trust that the other will not flee at the first accidental prick.

That is why we should consider ourselves most fortunate and blessed when we are hurt by the other. It is a sign of a relationship that is growing closer and closer, and a sign that the other has started to trust us more that he/she is more confident in trying to unveil a little more about himself/herself without the fear of rejection.

While we still try our best not to accidentally hurt each other, we will slip, and reveal that most dreadful side of our selves, thereby providing such opportunities for a wounded love to heal that wounded soul. (Of course, if the person constantly hurts you and has little or no respect for you, it’s different. That person is a jerk, and it’ll probably do both of you more harm than good.)

Of course, healing a wounded soul doesn’t mean that hurt will forever be completely terminated. We will still accidentally hurt one another time and time again, but with each moment comes the opportunity to renew and remind each other of the liberating and healing love that we can give to each other, that no matter what, no matter how crappy we are, we will be there for each other, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and we will love and honour each other, every single day of our lives till death do us part.

Are Things Really Black and White, or are they Grey?

At some point in our life, we have probably heard or said something like this: life (or some other matter) is not simply a case of black and white, it is grey. And for that matter, many different shades of grey!

However, there is one question that is worth asking so as to get a better understanding of the issue’s complexity.

What makes it grey?

There are many ways in which a thing can appear grey. A dim white light can look grey when compared to a brighter white light. A wall is grey in colour because grey paint was used. Grey appears in newspapers because of a mixture of black and white dots.

In like manner, it’s not sufficient to say that so-and-so is very complicated. To resolve the issue, one must know how it is that the situation becomes complex. Just as how one can derive grey in many ways, an issue can be complex because of so many factors.

But thus far, I’ve never heard anyone explain why so-and-so issue is grey/complex. Instead, what I do get is usually a look of resignation as if the issue is unresolvable.

This is perhaps the reason why everything nowadays seems grey to everyone (How boring! We need more colour!). The ancient Greeks and Chinese never had such problems. It’s not that they didn’t ask the tough questions. They did! Moreover, they made it a point to consider what made the issue complicated. That formed the first stepping stone to resolve such complexities.

Personally, I strongly believe that things are grey not because there is no black and white. Instead, things appear grey because of the mixture of black and white dots like those greyscale images on a newspaper. Some appear as darker greys because there are more black dots on white. Some appear as lighter greys due to fewer black dots on white.

The T’ai Chi Diagram. Image Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Yin_yang.svg

The ancient Chinese understood this very well. In the t’ai chi diagram (the yin and yang symbol), there is no grey. Rather, there is a black half and a white half, and in each is a seed of the opposite colour. The line which seperates the black half from the white half is curved to show its dynamism – the black can and does move into the white, and vice versa. The complexity of grey consists of a mixture of black and white in each other. To further emphasize its complexity, they went further with the diagram by showing how black can become white in certain situations and vice versa.

As humans, we have a funny habit of wanting to classify things. Things are good or bad, right or wrong, liberal or conservative, traditional or modern, etc. Whenever we come across something new, we immediately try to slot it into one of these categories. Why? Because this process of categorisation makes it easier for us to understand things – but it doesn’t necessarily mean that we understand things better.

When we come to that realisation that things are grey, what’s happening is that we discover that there are things that cannot be easily slotted into those categories. It’s not that the thing needs a whole new category called “grey” to be slotted into. Rather, it is the realisation that parts of the thing belong to one category, while other parts belong to another. We can’t fit it so nicely into one category. This dilemma therefore wakes us up to the discovery of the thing’s “greyness” – that its complexity is due to the mixture of two opposing categories, due to the mixture of black and white dots. Hence the surprise.

But why should we be surprised?

Life is complicated. Relationships are complicated. As members of the human species, we should know better that even our bodies are very complex. Natural cycles and systems are complex. Everything is complicated!

The reason why science doesn’t seem so complicated despite the many complexities of this world is because in science, we reduce things into simpler models so that it’s easier to understand them.

However, not everything can be properly understood when we simplify things. And the reason why we are so surprised is that in this age of technology, the scientific way of simplifying things to understand better has been so pervasive in our culture that, without realising it, we try to use that way on everything!

Some of these complex issues can only be better understood without such simplifications, but as it is and through its complex relations with other things/issues.

This is what the humanities does, and it is an art because it is a skill that must be cultivated over time. It is a skill that enables one to understand the complexities of things as they are in relation to other complex things.

But this is not to say that the sciences are useless. No! Both are just as important. There are things where we need the scientific approach of simplifying things for better understanding, and there are also things where we need the humanities approach of understanding things in its broader context and relations.

The point is that our technological culture has influenced us to such an extent that we try to simplify everything and attempt to categorise everything. And so we become very surprised (and even resigned at its complexity) when we discover things that cannot be simply fitted into one category. As I have said earlier, we categorise things for an easier understanding, but it does not necessarily lead to a better understanding. Besides, we do not need to categorise things to understand them. We can – and should – understand the thing in its entirety, in its mixture of blacks and whites, and then proceed to see it in its relation with other things.

I believe that this will give us a better way of working with the issue instead of simply shrugging our shoulders saying that things are grey, and then not doing anything about it. I will admit that the solution proposed above is not detailed. It is difficult to give details on how one could achieve this. It is, afterall, an art which requires some training in the humanities. This doesn’t mean that everybody needs to take a course in the humanities (though I think that would be ideal). The least one could (and should do) is to read widely on works in philosophy, literature, and history. Regular exposure to such works will at least make us familiar with the way these people think and it will teach us how to handle the “grey” issues.

So the next time we realise the complexity of an issue that we want to declare it a grey issue, perhaps it would be productive to consider what makes it so grey in the first place. And instead of trying to categorise it, it might be better for us to try to understand it as it is and its relationship with other things (i.e. the big picture). That should make the situation less grey, as we begin to zoom in on the blacks and whites in it.

On Personal Relationships and the Hedgehog’s Dilemma

Human beings are like hedgehogs. We want to love and be loved. Yet, whenever we get too close to each other, we end up hurting and being hurt by the other. There is perhaps nothing worst than being hurt by the ones you love, or hurting the ones you love.

Sometimes the hurt can be so bad that it seems best not to grow close to people. Yet, we desire to be close to others. But the fear of hurting/being hurt is enough to prevent us from doing anything at all. And so, we often find ourselves living a life of contradiction – of yearning for closeness yet shunning away from it. At the end of the day, we hurt ourselves even more as a result of this internal conflict.

But we think it is alright to live like this. Why? Because we sometimes think like this: It is better to hurt myself than to hurt others or be hurt others. At least the hurt which I inflict towards myself is less painful than the hurt which comes from the ones I love.

We have all been wounded at some point of our life. Nobody has gone through life unscarred. At some point, we have been betrayed, backstabbed, disappointed, ignored, insulted, teased, and even rejected by family and friends. How could they do something like that? They’re supposed to love me, right? They do love me, don’t they?

That is what the hedgehog’s dilemma is about: We meet someone for the first time. Not knowing whether or not we will be accepted or rejected by the other, we try to look good. After being accepted for some time by the other, we begin to feel comfortable and relaxed, slowly and slowly, we begin to remove the mask and show bits of our true self. Yet, like the hedgehog, our true selves are, unfortunately, full of spikes. But the mask functions as a shield covering our spikes so that no one will be hurt. It also covers our vulnerable selves so that we won’t be hurt either. But as we begin to grow closer, we begin to slowly remove that mask to reveal our true selves. We expose our vulnerabilities and expose the sharp spikes which could hurt someone.

And so, there will come a point in time where we get too close to each other and our spikes come into contact, thereby wounding each other in that dangerous embrace of friendship.

A friend of mine commented that the name, “hedgehog’s dilemma”, is quite a misnomer. Hedgehogs don’t get injured when they come close to each other because they know how to withdraw their spikes when coming in contact with their own kind.

If that is the case, can we still consider ourselves analogous to hedgehogs? Oh yes! Definitely! We are very clumsy hedgehogs: Firstly, we don’t realise we have spikes until we have wounded and have been wounded. Secondly, even when we know about our spikes, we have difficulties controlling them. Thirdly, sometimes we can be so absent-minded that we can forget that our spikes are out.

But just like the hedgehogs, we can learn not to hurt and be hurt by learning how to master our spikes. Unfortunately, this learning requires the courage of enduring some hurts from each other until we get the hang of it.

This is why the best and closest of friendships are those where both parties have survived a really terrible conflict. There will always be a point in any relationship where the other begins acting like a retard, annoying the crap out of you, and/or pissing you off as if he/she had been paid to do it (or has an axe to grind). This is the point where the mask has been removed and the spikes have come out. This is the point where we begin to hurt and be hurt by the other.

Unfortunately, sometimes, some of us cannot endure it any longer, and the relationship ends. However, when we begin to accept that he/she has these spikes, and there’s very little we can do about it, that is when we begin to learn how to avoid being hurt by the other, and avoid hurting the other despite the closeness. That period of conflict is the learning stage. Once both have learnt it well, the storm dissipates and both are able to grow closer together.

Of course, periods of conflict will arise time and time again. That is part of the package in being a “hedgehog”. As we grow closer than before, we need to learn how to master our spikes in such new situations of closeness.

Such mastery of our spikes gives us the ability to develop long-lasting relationships with people. We can be comfortable being ourselves with such people. There is no need to wear protective masks, nor do we have difficulties embracing them without hurting/being hurt.

It is interesting to note that traditional Christian marriages never wish couples a “happy marriage”. Instead, the Church wishes them that they may remain as “one flesh”. In Chinese culture, one concept central to the culture is 和 (he), which means unity, harmony, and even happiness. I’m sure other religions and cultures have something similar to say.

Nonetheless, the point is this: since ancient times, people have recognised the problem of the hedgehog’s dilemma. People have known (since ancient times) that a happy relationship free from hurt is not a real relationship – it is either a fantasy or there’s no closeness at all. There is no happy marriage or friendship where no one gets hurt. People will hurt one another. It is an unavoidable thing in life.

The goal in any human relationship is to learn how to be so close as to become like “one flesh”. It is this harmony and unity that is a pre-requisite to happiness. Once we have learnt how to handle hurts are we then able to develop close and happy friendships.

Love is not just about loving the good parts of the other. It is also about loving the person’s spikes. These spikes are part of our being. We too have a deep desire for people to love us and our spikes. It’s easy to love the nice side of people. But a lot of effort is required to love those spikes. That is why we really appreciate the people who can love us despite seeing our ugly side. But it’s not just for the effort alone. We appreciate such love because such love embraces our whole self – not just a part, not just the mask – but a love which embraces the very core of our being.

But we’re all in a deadlock waiting for someone to do that to us. Everybody’s waiting.

So, to put an end to the deadlock, allow me to get the ball rolling by saying: Thank you for being my friend. I may have experienced, or have yet to experience your spikey side. But rest assured, I may initially be shocked, annoyed, and even hurt – but that will not mean an end to the friendship. I accept you and will still love you as my friend regardless. And I apologise for the hurts which my own spikes may have caused. We just need time to learn.

Let us, with courage, strive for deeper, closer friendships!

The Problem with Questions

Asking questions is a good thing. It is what enables learning, it helps to clarify doubts or ambiguities, and more.

Today, however, after reflecting about some things, I came to the realisation that questions are like a double-edged sword which can either be constructive or destructive.

It can be very easy to tear apart something by firing a series of questions one after the other. Answering them, however, can be very very difficult. But it is important for us to remember that a lack of an answer does not equate to a successful demolition of a point. There are many possible reasons why no answer can be given. Either the person is unprepared (or does not know enough); the question has indeed found a hole in the argument; OR the question is unreasonable precisely because the question makes some unreasonable assumptions that makes it difficult (or prevents) good answers from being formed.

What many of us do not realise is that every question assumes something.

If I were to ask, “How do you know X?”, I am assuming that you already know X, and I expect an answer in such a direction.

Were I to ask, “Why did you do this?”, I am assuming that you did it with a purpose in mind, thereby expecting a good reason for your actions (or else…).

If I asked you, “Who did X?”, I assume that some human person did it, and I do not expect the possibility of an animal or some natural cause to have caused it to happen.

These are but some examples to demonstrate the assumptions made when asking questions.

Most of the time, the assumptions that are coupled with the questions are reasonable and we have little problems giving a straightforward answer.

It’s not too bad if the assumptions are inaccurate because answers can still be given, though probably, more explanation is required to justify the answer so as to meet the expectations of the question.

But sometimes (or for some people, all the time), the assumptions are just so far off or bizarre that no straightforward answer can be given. Some times, the assumption may be invalid to the extent that no answer whatsoever could ever be produced.

An exaggerated example will be: “Have you stopped beating your wife today?”

The question assumes that you have been beating your wife in the past. The question makes a very unreasonable assumption which puts you in a tight spot. Regardless of whether you answer yes or no, you unfortunately end up validating the assumption. You could save yourself by giving a long answer so as to prove that you have not been beating your wife, but you’d probably end up sounding very defensive thus proving the assumption right by your defensive tone. Furthermore, a lot of effort is needed to debunk the false assumption, especially if the questioner strongly believes in it. Only when that assumption has been debunked will the questioner be opened to your answer.

But even if you do get around the question with a long answer, the question may not be satisfied because the expectation of the question was not met. So, in the mind of the serious questioner, the given answer may not be fully acceptable.

When it comes to the hard questions about life, sometimes we feel as if we have hit the dead end. We ask a series of questions and we find no answers or no satisfying answers. It is frustrating. Surely, if a question can be asked, we should be able to get some sort of answer, right? Even if it’s a negative (e.g. no), it’ll still be an answer. But time and time again, many of us fall into what seems to be an existential crisis because we seem to find absolutely no answers to the important questions about life.

But perhaps one possible reason for not being able to find answers (or satisfying answers) is that the assumptions made in the questions are invalid, either because they are inaccurate assumption, completely wrong (or bizarre) assumptions, or wrong assumptions made due to a lack of understanding of the situation.

Perhaps the next time we have faced with a question which, for the life of us, we are unable to find an answer, rather than getting distressed over the lack of an answer, it might be useful to clarify the question, examine the assumptions made, and see if these assumptions are indeed valid in the first place. Because if they aren’t, no answer can ever satisfy the question requirements.

The Humanity in Tea

This is the new Chinese tea set that I got recently!

What’s so special about such a tea set? Well, the uniqueness lies in the pot. This pot is known as the Yixing (宜興) Tea Pot which is made from clay from the Yixing region in China. There is no protective glaze on it, and so this special clay not only absorbs the tea flavours, but also enhances it. Tea brewed in this pot will taste better as you brew more tea in it over time. In fact, it is said that if you have been using this pot for a long time, you can add hot water into the pot without the leaves, and still get tea!

The wooden tray on which the pot seats on, and the wooden tools on the side are part of an elaborate tea brewing method known as Gongfu Tea (功夫茶). No, there’s no gongfu involved, but rather it refers to the skill cultivated in the art of tea brewing. The temperature of the water, the time taken to brew the tea, etc., are all significant in making that most awesome cup of tea. It really makes a huge difference! I know because I’ve tried.

People are probably wondering why should one waste one’s time going through all that trouble to make tea when one could simply take a tea bag and soak it in hot water?

The answer is this: Nowadays, with the advancements in technolgy, we become so end-oriented. When we think of food, we just think of putting something tasty into our mouths. When we think of drink, we think of just putting a liquid into our mouths. The entire process has been forgotten.

In the past, going to get water meant taking a walk out to the nearby well, meeting all kinds of people, and interacting with them whilst enjoying that walk. Today, getting water is as simple as going to a tap. It is so simple that we don’t think too much about getting water. In fact, we become so end-oriented (goal-oriented) that we forget about the whole process. We forget about enjoying the means (the process) of getting things done.

Be it work or studies, we have become so end-oriented that we don’t make it a point to enjoy the process, nor make the process a meaningful experience. No. There is a huge tendency within us to focus only on trying to get what we want to get, to the point where we forget about our human interactions, and we forget to enjoy the fine things in life that surround us as we go about our daily tasks.

In short, we’re losing our humanity. We will be no different from animals (and even robots!) if we don’t make it a point to enjoy the process and make significant our means to ours ends.

Something as simple as tea should be enjoyed fully. Its flavour should be appreciated. The process of brewing tea is in itself an art. And if we make significant the process, we bring back the humanity in our daily living.

Tea is not just tea. It is a social ritual (禮) which is made up of human interactions and the fine art of tea appreciation. A multitude of ends are intertwined in tea. Even the tea brewing ceremony itself cultivates virtue in the maker and the guests. Not only do they learn patience, but the ceremony of tea making is like a dance which cultivates harmony and solidarity with one another. In a dance, the various dancers must know their roles and do their best to co-ordinate themselves with each other. In so doing, there is harmony in the dance. If one were to go out of rhythm or miss a step, the dance loses its harmony and beauty. A ceremony as simple as tea making and appreciation can cultivate such harmony in people, as people learn to co-ordinate themselves to the actions involved in the art of brewing tea. On top of that, it allows for social interaction and tea appreciation all at the same time.

In today’s culture, where the use of technology has conditioned us to focus purely on the ends, we lose this richness. If I were to meet you for tea, it means meeting for a social interaction. The fine art of tea appreciation is not present. We may drink tea, but the end (goal) of tea appreciation is not in mind. By separating the means from the ends, we unconsciously also create a separtion of ends. And in so doing, we lose that richness of our humanity.

It is therefore important, if we want to fully realise our humanity and make our life rich with meaning, to never be totally end-oriented, but to make it a point to enjoy the process in whatever tasks we have to do. It is important for us to make significant some of these daily (and even mundane) processes and recover the social interactions which we have lost.

Work is never just work. Whatever task it may be, even if it is as simple as tea, it is always an opportunity for one’s self to blossom like a beautiful flower and a chance to flourish one’s friendships in the process.

Loneliness – The Modern Phenomenon of Poverty

Mother Teresa commented that the greatest poverty in the world today is that an increasing number of people suffer from the lack of love rather than the lack of material needs.

Everyone suffers from loneliness in one way or another. Many, however, are not so fortunate as to have someone who is able to love them back, or for that matter, to truly love such that communion is attained.

As human persons, our hearts desire communion – where the heart speaks to heart, where bonding takes place, where both parties grow closer to each other.

But how often does this occur in our lives?

Some will have at least one friend capable of communing with. Yet, there are many who are not so blessed with such friendships. Many marriages these days do not even reach communion. Couples may talk a lot and even engage in intercourse, but their hearts do not speak to each other.

Sometimes, even if we have friends capable of attaining communion with us, it may be the case that we ourselves do not allow it to happen because of our fears or insecurities. For such a deep connection of hearts to take place, it requires opening ourselves up to a state of vulnerability. But as the saying goes, love conquers all fears. If I see that person as my friend, I should trust that this friend will not hurt me in such a state of vulnerability. If we worry all the time about being hurt, we give up every opportunity to be loved.

This lack of communion is perhaps the reason why so many of us have a strong desire to be understood, to be listened, to be loved.

We talk. And for the many of us who love talking, we love a lot. But in the midst of all that chatter, who listens carefully? In the midst of explaining ourselves, who tries to understand?

Few do.

We all want to love, yet deep in our hearts, we want to be loved, and perhaps to be loved more than to love. There are many around who, like us, share in this desire to be loved.

If we were to look back at our experiences of loneliness, we would discover that in many of these situations, we silently await the arrival of someone who would come to love us when we need it most. Very rarely would we find ourselves making the first move, as we are afraid of being looked upon as needy people.

As human persons, we share similar experiences of loneliness and act thus in a similar manner. If we ourselves are silently yearning for someone to love us, what more the lonely people around us, who, like us, silently await the day for someone to show some love, and perhaps to give them a chance to be listened, to be understood, to be loved.

Yet, if everyone is too busy waiting, who will provide it?

That is the challenge that is presented to us. Let us not be afraid to open up our hearts.

When love is encountered, hearts change, lives change, people change.

Where love is missing, put love in.

To Love is to Delight

One of the best definitions of love that I’ve encountered is this:

Love is to delight in the existence of the other.

(Fr. David Garcia, O.P.)

Isn’t it the case that when people are in love, they cannot stop thinking of the other? They would love to spend, if possible, all their time with the other. Why is that the case? Because when one is in love, one cannot stop but to delight in the existence of their beloved!

Love in its truest and purest form is really to love the other for who she is.

If I were to say that I love Sophia (not an actual person; just using that name since it means wisdom), what shall be a good reason for loving her?

Were I to say that I love her for a certain quality, e.g. her looks, her intellect, her wit, etc., I do not love her but merely her attributes. If one day, she were to lose those qualities that I love, does that mean that my love for her has ceased? Well, if it were the case, we would normally say that such a love was superficial.

But of course, though we usually say that we love someone for having qualities X, Y, and Z; we do not mean to say that we love only those qualities. No, love extends beyond those qualities. What we mean to say is that we love our beloved one for who she is, and not just for certain qualities which she possesses (though that is something that we often say).

And so, to say that I love Sophia means that I love her for who she is – I love her very being. I love her for who she is, and I delight in the fact that she exists. For if she were not to exist, there would be no Sophia to delight in, in the first place.
But how else is love a delight in the existence of another?

For many of us, we would have experienced cases where we have liked someone, and did all we could, but that person did not love in return. Sometimes, we may (perhaps enviously) look at some couples, and wonder why one loves the other, even though the other seems like someone who does not deserve the love from such a person.

From our experiences in life, we recognise that getting someone to love us has very little to do with what we do. We may cry out that it is simply unfair that so-and-so has fallen for someone else despite all our efforts.

In such cases, we see delight in action. (Not very comforting, I know. But that’s not the point.)

Sure, the person may see us as a friend, and delight in our company, but not to the extent of delighting in our very existence.

Love is not a contract where justice requires the other party to love us in return for the love we give. The problem arises when we begin to think of love that way. We cannot demand a person to love us in return for what we have done. That would not be love anymore. It will just be doing favours so as to compel someone to treat us nicely. We cannot force a person to love us – for that would not be love, a free act of the will.

At the end of the day, it is up to the other to freely choose to love us, to delight in our being.

But what is so special about delighting in the existence of another that makes love, love?

True love, in delighting in the existence of the other, loves the person for who she is – her strengths and weaknesses, her beauty and grace, her faults and failings. Even though she may be annoying in a certain way, or have a certain fault, it is those qualities that make her who she is.

To love such a person is to say: I love you for who you are – the good, the bad, and the ugly. It is these qualities that you possess that make you who you are. Sure, I do indeed delight in your essence (who you are), but most of all, I delight in your existence. But, if you did not exist, I would not have been able to delight in you.

When we see that love is delight, it becomes easier not to be distracted by anger, over the failings of the beloved. When we look at old couples, who have been married for so many years, we see how they are able to stay married for long – because they have come to realise that it is not about what one does that merits love, but love lasts because one has delighted and will continue to delight in the existence of the other.

What makes this definition more beautiful is when we recognise that the way we love one another is a reflection of the way God loves us.

Love is to delight in the existence of the other. When God thinks of you, God thinks about how wonderful, how beautiful, how amazing, and yet how wounded you are as a human person. But nonetheless, the very thought of you brings God great delight.

And so, in delighting in you, He says, “I love you”, and thus, you are loved into existence.

Having first loved us, having first delighted in who we are, God’s love for us remains constant and unchanging. Sometimes, we make the mistake of looking at God’s love as a contract (much like changing our human love relationships and friendships into contractual relationships). As a result, we think that if we were to do X, Y, and Z, we would merit God’s love.

Children recognise that no matter how naughty or nice they have been, their parents will not stop loving them. Sure, they may be punished for being naughty, but they recognise that their parents will not stop loving them no matter what. And in like manner, God never ceases to love, to delight in who we are – no matter how horrible and undeserving we have been of his love – because love is not about how much one does.

He loved us into existence, and will always continue to love us, regardless.