My Political Awareness

Elections in less than two weeks. My first time ever casting a vote in any General Election. No it's not an indication of my age. Born and raised in Malaysia, I spent most of my adult life in Singapore as a Permanent Resident. I took up citizenship only after the last GE.

I have to confess that I haven't been particularly interested in politics, largely because Singapore has enjoyed a prolonged period of stability and prosperity. I don't have that much to be unhappy about, no axes to grind. Sure we could do with more open debates, but they ought to be on issues that truly matter. I am not particularly bothered about how many times the train broke down over the last two years because the scale of the issue just doesn't measure up to what commuters in other global cities such as London face on a daily basis. Train breakdowns are never great, but we need to grow up.

I know, I deserve to be sneered at because nothing should be taken for granted. Stability, prosperity and many other aspects of our daily life is dependent of long term planning, policy making and execution by those who are elected into power. I ought to feel that I have a way of influencing policies rather than reacting to them when they are implemented. After all the elected MPs are quiet accessible these days. I guess it should also be a personal responsibility to say it when things have been done well. The successes of the Government have by far exceeded its areas of improvement yet it is the latter that gets more attention. More people need to stick their necks out if they feel that the Government has done well in order to balance out a very vocal minority of armchair politicians active on social media.

What would be that one thing on my mind when I cast my vote on 11 Sep? For me, it will have to be a clean government. Elect the wrong people into power and  the country's coffers will be looted in broad daylight. We've seen this happen time and time again in many  countries. Cronies with long titles will be put into power to get rid of experienced leaders so that what happens behind the scene remains behind the scene. Kickbacks will be called donations and donations will be called personal. It will be the way things are done. On a recent family holiday overseas, our hired car was stopped twice by the police to collect their dues for the day. Our driver said that he just treats them like friends who need a helping hand and would offer them some pocket money. Institutionalised corruption is like cancer, it metastasise and kills the healthiest person if the problem is not dealt with quickly.

A thinking society can be brought down overnight by a corrupt government. Those who don't smoke the joint will end up without a chair when the music stops. Those who smoke the joint are completely incoherent it would be dangerous to sit them on a stool much less place them in parliament. They chase after whistleblowers so that the burglar can walk out of the front door. This form of government values mutual back-scratching and blind loyalty over integrity and intellect. Unfortunately, it is the country that pays the price of it's shady government. Loss of confidence triggers sell off in its assets and currency.  It becomes a laughing stock and loses its place at the global table.

A clean government is at the heart of any progressive country. Loose valves and blocked arteries need to be dealt with expeditiously and clinically to avert cardiac arrest. Drag your feet on a heart condition and you are almost certain to need a defibrillator or CPR.

I think I am ready for the GE now.

Hungry Game

I am four days away from completing a 40-day fast. For many reasons I am ambivalent writing about this. A fast isn't a big journey, certainly not comparable to many incredible feats that the human kind is capable of. And that is the thing, it is not even a feat nor an achievement. The fast which I am observing also pales in comparison with what my Muslims friends do religiously in the month of Ramadhan each year. I abstain from food between 7am to 7pm but I do drink water and even allow myself the luxury of unflavoured soda water, okay with a slice of lemon or lime to go with it on occasions. The Bible gently reminds us that we should not be doing certain things to give others the impression that we are holy because we fast.  But what I do want to do is to crystallise my thoughts about the fast before I return to "normality". What was this fast about, what have I come to understand and how I hope it will change me.

This is the third time I am fasting, the last being many years ago. It took me a long time to decide that I would do it because as much as I felt I wanted to, there wasn't any external persuasion to commit. There certainly wasn't anyone who came up to me to tell me that I should fast, although my fun loving colleagues would openly point out the shape and size of my belly. A slightly round belly is the hallmark of fathers in the neighbourhood I live in. I see this when I walk my son to school in the morning - men furiously trying to balance their family and work responsibilities that health becomes an after-thought. I was bringing my younger kids downstairs for swimming this morning and my daughter said "Daddy, look. I am as tall as you belly." My belly isn't as tall as her, but she certainly knows it exists. Hmm... perhaps there is an external persuasion.

Part of the reason the start date for the fast kept shifting in my head was because a 40-day fast would overlap with many key celebrations. I wasn't prepared to miss out on the feasting for Chinese New Year or family members' birthdays. Doing a fast during Lent would be very sensible but I wouldn't be able to commit to all the disciplines of such a fast - being completely and utterly focused on God. The truth is that a fast ought not to be about anything else but about drawing close to God. But my fast is me taking baby steps toward Him and He leading me gently. So instead of Lent, the window of opportunity for me was the period between my daughter's birthday and my own birthday. No visions, no burning bushes, just me wanting to feast on birthdays that set the date for the fast.

There are a lot of things in my life I ought to be doing, whether it is eating moderately or doing regular exercise. All makes sense but for many things that requires discipline I often need a higher purpose. Strange as it may sound, living a longer healthier life isn't a high enough purpose for me. Yet I also think that this true for those fathers that I walk pass each morning. I am busy meeting the daily needs of the day, I feel that I deserve to sleep or eat a bit more when I get the chance, and I haven't come to the point in my life where personal neglect is manifesting itself in ways that inconvenience me. Well not entirely true - I do feel like my body is giving way. I needed to reset to once again understands what life is about. Just do It, is to me the nudge for guilt-free impulse buying then my approach to life.

I needed to be reminded that in life I can do without many things but in many things I cannot do without God. The wants we have in life are merely thoughts and a nobler thought can overcome one that is less kind. Fasting is this practice of using the sensation of hunger to ask myself what is this really for and for me to respond by saying to myself that my God is as real as the food I see around me. It is the practice of saying that I can set aside things in my life because God gives me a reason to.

Hunger has a way of drowning out some other distractions. I don't feel tired but I can certainly feel my mind ticking slower. I am taking more time to listen and to decipher before I respond. It would seem like worry isn't as powerful as hunger. There is less stamina for long term anxiety because my more immediate preoccupation is the 7pm break fast. Fasting itself is not an achievement but what the practice can help your mind do can be empowering.

Somewhat obvious but still very true. The fast is a glimpse of what real hunger feels like. I cannot comprehend how children have to go to bed hungry and how forsaken and neglected their parents must feel in that situation. Life given by God, but no hands willing to feed them. What is my role in taking the excesses in my life and giving it to those who have absolutely nothing? Will I help to restore the dignity of those that who are vulnerable? My plea to God as I fast is that I will lead a less self-centred and distracted life. The hope is that when I finish this in a couple of days, it would not be a return to "normality" but a closer step to the path that God would like me to take.

Short trip to Phnom Penh

It is 5.40am and I finally get the chance to sit by the lovely hotel pool. Enough dawn sunlight to see the surrounding without drowning out the warm glow from the tree lamps. There is a lovely morning breeze rustling the leaves. I hear the occasional clicking of the house lizards. A beautiful way to spend the early morning before catching my flight home.

I've spent the last two days here in Phnom Penh together with a group of colleagues. We volunteered with a charity organisation that focuses on helping communities that are at high risk of child-trafficking. I had volunteered with this charity a year ago and it was good to be back again. I like second times. Although I can't say that I am sufficiently familiar with Phnom Penh, there are visual ques that reminds me of the previous trip. Yet there were opportunities to experience new things. I think this describes me quite well, a creature of habit that enjoys a little bit of variety.

Last year I came to Phnom Penh with my teenage son. It was our first time in Cambodia and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Together with three colleagues, we were tasked to conduct two surveys. One survey was to better understand the needs of the slump community that the charity works in and to what extent the community's needs were being met by the NGOs. The other survey was to understand what the kids were up to after school when they are not at the charity's day care. At first the thought of 24 interviews for each survey didn't seem that much of a challenge. After the first interview, I quickly realised that it wasn't going to be easy digesting what the interviewees had to tell us. I recall interviewing housewives, sex-workers, domestic helpers, and a tuk-tuk driver amongst others. I also remember mistaking a beggar for a baker because I had not listened carefully to the interpreter. The stories were tough-going - basic needs not available to human beings, how a little bit of help could have made a big difference, how each parent have hopes for their children even if they don't have enough hope for themselves.

Each volunteer is encouraged to sign up for the Advocacy Walk before they start on the volunteer work. The Walk brings relevance and context to the volunteers as they get to see first-hand the community which they are trying to help. We visited a slump community located next to the Tonlé Sap river. The sights and sounds of this slump reminded of scenes from Slumpdog Millionaire. I also vividly remember a little girl, who wore only a pair of shorts, holding the hands of my female colleague as the team explored that river community. It made me think about my little girl at home and how different these two children's lives were. The Advocacy Walk also includes an interview with a sex-worker. My son found that session particularly difficult as he felt that it wasn't a child's position to listen to this motherly figure explaining what she does for a living.

My son and I visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields on that trip last year. Yet another raw experience but I will leave that for another blog post.

The trip this time around was slightly different. My son is at home preparing for his exams and I was here with a slightly larger group of colleagues. Our task was to distribute school necessities to the kids including a new school bag, books, stationeries and a set of uniform. Most kids looked like they really needed the uniform. It is amazing how their faces lit up with such simple gifts. Probably not aware of it themselves but they are all fighters with a smile.

The next day we took the older kids for an excursion to the zoo. The zoo was two hours away from Phnom Penh so I got a chance see the Cambodian countryside. I remember last year I resorted to taking a picture of my son in front of a giant telecoms advertisement with a scene of the countryside. The bus ride was good conversation time with the kids. They were encouraged to put their English into practice. The boy sitting next to me on the way there told me that they would refer to adult volunteers as sir or "cher", short for teacher. So I was their "cher" for the day. I showed them pictures of Singapore as they wanted to know what it was like.

The drive from the main road into the smaller lane that took us to the zoo was sobering. On both sides of the lane were people begging. Every 50 metres or so you would see either an elderly man or elderly woman or children holding out their hands begging for money. What they got most of the time instead was the dust thrown up by the passing vehicles.

The kids were thrilled to be at the zoo. But so were the volunteers as we've all not seen a tiger close-up, within a metre from where we were standing. Some of the kids hand-fed bananas to the the monkeys but none of us were savvy enough to feed the tiger. Didn't think it was allowed either. Although the zoo infrastructure was basic we had personalised service from the ice - cream man,  and the fruit and water seller who followed the group around the zoo on their motorbikes.

After lunch, the volunteers ran a couple of games stations for the 40 kids. We had initially planned games for younger kids. When we found out that the kids were from an older age group the night before the zoo trip, one of the volunteers went out to buy two footballs. Made sense that kids would enjoy chasing balls around for hours. The games that we had initially planned didn't go to waste either as the kids did enjoy them after all. The volunteers had to think up two or three more games on the spot to keep the kids entertained for the remainder of the time. Common amongst all the games were the much prized chocolate gifts. The most hilarious game was "dog and the bone". The kids were split into three groups and within each group the kids had an assigned number. When the volunteer called out a number, the kids whose number got called had to run to the centre to snatch the chocolate without being tabbed by another kid from a competing team. Otherwise the kid who made the tab would get the chocolate.

The bus ride back to Phnom Penh was quieter.  It had been a very hot afternoon and many of the kids were tired after the games. I sat next to a different boy on the way back. This boy spoke very good English and asked me lots of questions about education in Singapore and about different career choices. He also asked me how he could further improve his English. In our conversation I found out that he does not have access to computer or a mobile phone, and the libraries did not cater for English books that would interests kids his age. We spoke about many other things which again helped me better understand the challenges that kids in this community face. Although I know he does not have access to email,  I left him my email address anyway and asked him to contact me if he ever needed some specific advice.

I am missing my family and can't wait to get home later today but this trip has been very rewarding for me. I have learnt more about this community through the interaction with the kids rather than  interviewing their parents. These kids have hopes and dreams and it is important to help them believe. Kids also need fun days out. I used to wonder how the little things we do can ever make a difference in the lives of children who are so poor. I asked the boy who sat next to me on the way back from the zoo what makes him happy. He said getting the necessary books for his education makes him very happy. It took me two trips here but I got the answer to silence my doubts. It has been a blessing to be able to show kindness to these wonderful kids.

I have since checked out of the hotel, got onto the flight and on my way home. I was looking through the Singapore newspapers on the plane and there was an article about the Khmer Rogue "first lady" Ieng Thirith who had just passed away at the age of 83. She was put on trial for genocide by Cambodia's UN-backed war crimes court but the trials were suspended in 2012 as she was suffering from progressive dementia. Both my trips to Phnom Penh have left me with mixed feeling about this country. Sadness for the cruelty and miseries of the past, and the sheer poverty of the multitudes today. Hope because there are children who try their best with whatever life throws at them. May God bless this land.

The Queue

My colleague told me that the queue for the SG50 commemorative notes at a particular bank was relatively short. It was lunch time so I decided I would take a short walk to Battery Road to join the queue. There were probably 50 customers in the queue ahead of me. As I was waiting there were two women who were telling an elderly man that this was the sixth time they were queueing for the notes since early this morning. The women were carrying their hoard from the earlier rounds of queueing at other banks. Quite a productive morning for them it would seem.

After about 20 minutes in the queue it came to my turn. When I got to the cash counter, I heard the customer next to me asking the cashier whether she could deposit the commemorative notes into her account. The cashier looked somewhat perturbed, perhaps wondering how she could respond to the question without offending the customer. There was an awkward silence and I could not help but turn to look in slight amusement.

Not quiet sure why that was the wrong question, the customer then asked whether she could exchange her commemorative notes with those from the bank. This time the cashier told the customer politely that the notes she had were similar to the ones that the branch was offering to everyone. For obvious reasons, I found myself still drawn to the conversation.

Then the customer asked whether she could exchange her commemorative notes for the folders that banks were giving away with the notes. She pointed at the stack of folders next to the counter. Staying very polite, the cashier explained that those folders did not contain any notes. Slightly embarrassed, the customer finally asked whether she could have those folders. The cashier clarified that the folders were for customers who exchange their standard-issue notes for the commemorative notes, and that each customer was limited to two folders.

Having exhausted her list of questions, the customer left the cash counter still holding on to the commemorative notes that she brought to the branch. Perhaps she could have saved herself some time had she listened in on the pointers that the two women in the queue were giving to the elderly man.

Blogging

I had an audacious thought his afternoon. I was walking pass a bookstore when I stopped to think whether there was something that I may need. That wasn't the audacious part but what came after was. I heard that little voice in my head say that I didn't need to read a book, I could write one. I blog don't I? Well fortunately for me, it was just my sense of humour acting up rather than a lack of self - awareness.

I have found blogging therapeutic. So far 12 great sessions of free therapy to counter the effects of living from one task to another. And it is particularly helpful when I can't sleep or fall back to sleep. I am an early riser and waiting for the rest of my family to wake up can be exhausting ironically. Thoughts that have been going in circles need to be dealt with. Focusing on a thought, exploring it and penning it down seems productive or at least tangible. It is there on the screen, saved down, and I even have a photo to go with each posting. I can leave the thought alone because I am done thinking about it. It now has a form and I don't have to wonder what I really thought about it. There is a sense of liberation.

I seem to have far more patience blogging than I have reading. I am somewhat opinionated and reading something I don't agree with works me up. I am too polite to post a comment or drop a note  to the writer whom I do not know and end up with a sense of unfinished business. You would now be thinking, how could anyone be an effective voice in social media if he or she does not read widely. There lies the beauty of tweets.

Those who have read my posts know that I am still trying. I am not as eloquent as I need to be. I am still building stamina for a well thought through exposition in the distant future. You can't put your finger on exactly what this blog focuses on because my posts are as random as my thoughts. But by the time I am done writing this thought down, there would be 13 more posts than when I started. I am starting to write regularly, even if it is not daily. These days I don't only think of writing, I write what I am thinking. 

Toddler

Just a toddler, it is necessary to listen to what the older and wiser have to say. Eat your fruits and vegetables, not too much sugar or snacks, learn to share, get enough sun, be polite, brush your teeth twice a day and get enough sleep. All very sensible but not always fun. And it isn't like those who say these things always practise what they tell you, especially not those on TV. 

Getting to this point is already a big achievement so perhaps it is better to just enjoy the moment. No longer underweight and certainly not a picky eater. Love for pastry and other forms of dessert. Can't resist fries and rice, but porridge is still the favourite. Gets crazy over the food postings on social media. Developed some talent and skills, but mostly involving the computer and the phone. We should keep an eye on that as it isn't great for the, well, eyes. 

Don't enjoy the hot sun at all preferring the indoors. I guess nothing wrong with that so long as the windows are open to let the fresh air in. Minimise on the air-conditioning. It is bad for the lungs and the skin. Prefer an afternoon nap on the weekends than a run around the park. A swim too can be bad for the skin. 

Being just a few years into my forties is tough but I have to keep listening to those much older adults.

Needle Pulling Thread

My instinct told me that I should not pull on the loose thread. The very next thing I did was to pull on the loose thread. The more I pulled, the longer it got and then to my horror the button on my shirt, third from the top, fell off. I rolled my eyes and wondered how many time over the course of the day I would have to explain to others that I hadn't forgotten to button my shirt but that that the button had fallen off on my way to work.  Slightly counter intuitive, but I feel much more in control if it were an intentional mistake than if it were an unintentional mistake.

I sent an SOS out to a group of colleagues over Whatsapp to ask if anyone had a needle and thread. One had a needle but not thread. Another said she was still at home and could bring the thread to the office. Later that morning, when I had both the needle and thread, I sewed the button back onto my shirt. Anyone walking pass my office would have thought I was performing open heart surgery on myself. Taking my shirt off to fix the button was't an option, firstly because my room has glass walls and secondly I didn't have the physique to go shirtless behind glass walls. Some things are just better left protected from view. 

It may have been a slightly different outcome without these female colleagues. I wouldn't have approach a male colleague for a needle or thread because it isn't something one guy asks another, is it? If I asked, what were the chances that a male colleague would have a sewing needle handy? Unconsciously biased I know. What exactly does it say about what I think women have in their handbags? I am sure there would be more surprising revelations if I peel through the many layers in my head. But it is a start to be conscious about unconscious biases.

JL and LS, thanks for coming to my shirt's rescue today.

Declaration of Independence

I missed the broadcast of the Proclamation of Independence at 9am yesterday. This was a recording of a reading by the late Mr. Lee Kuan Yew made about three years ago. He never publicly read the original Declaration as he had to attend to a number of urgent priorities in quick succession that day. I find that somewhat hilarious and humbling at the same time because it was characteristic of Mr. Lee's fierce pragmatism. Well if there are more important priorities than reading out the Declaration, then someone from Radio Singapore can do it instead.

But what I have also come to realise is that that wasn't a typical Declaration of Independence, if there was ever such a thing. This wasn't a state fighting for freedom from its colonial master. It was a break up of a troubled relationship over fundamental differences in what democracy meant and who it is for. Mr. Lee who had been optimistic about a Malaysia for all Malaysians had to give up on his hope. This was a declaration of unreconcilable differences and a permanent separation. This historic moment wasn't necessarily the type that you would celebrate with champagne and party hats. It was a time of trial and tribulation. Rightfully there were many more urgent priorities for the day.

At 9am,  I heard the siren preceding the broadcast whilst attending the regular morning Sunday church service. Distracted by the order of the day, I only managed to catch the repeat broadcast just before the National Day Parade. I listened expectantly. And then I listened with a heavy heart. He didn't sound like a roaring lion readying for battle. I had simply not realised that by that time three years ago Mr. Lee was already somewhat frail.

Listening on, the words of the Declaration were the foretelling of the democracy that Mr. Lee was committing to build. He took those words and he lived by it for the rest of his life. He toiled and laboured tirelessly so that his people who started with nothing could indeed forever be a sovereign democratic and independent nation. 

The recording made of Mr. Lee was a wonderful retelling of a solemn promise made by a once young man who loved his country and its people wholeheartedly.


"Now I LEE KUAN YEW Prime Minister of Singapore, DO HEREBY PROCLAIM AND DECLARE on behalf of the people and the Government of Singapore that as from today the ninth day of August in the year one thousand nine hundred and sixty-five Singapore shall be forever a sovereign democratic and independent nation, founded upon the principles of liberty and justice and ever seeking the welfare and happiness of her people in a more just and equal society."

Singapura Oh Singapura

Singapura, where tradewinds intersect. Silk most exquisite bartered for spices so rare. The east met the west bringing cultural and gastronomical delights. Where different believes, languages and skin tones were opportunities to see a bigger world.

Singapura, where lovely plantations used to grow. Gambier, nutmeg and cocoa, the British East India Company's exotic exports to the world. South American seedlings were brought from the Kew and planted in the Botanical Gardens. Soon these rubber trees became the cash cow for the British Commonwealth.

Singapura fell under Japanese control when the world was at war. Her given name was Shonan-to and she lived in oppression and fear. Banana money was worthless and rice was rationed. Young men were taken away and never seen again. This ignited the fires of self-determination.

Singapura joined the Federation to form the independent nation of Malaysia. She fought for the right to be an equal partner but was told that some were more equal than others. She tried everything to stay together but was eventually asked to leave. Singapura, you are on your own.

Singapura, there were many years of hardship and toil. Others didn't believe in you so you had to try harder. You had to smile when others said you were wrong. You had to just smile and carry on. You strived to be world class in whatever you do and eventually it paid off.

Singapura today you are 50 and I am in awe. How lovely a lady you have become. Gracious and kind, full of wisdom. A global city with an Asian soul. Thank you for the peace and stability where families can thrive. Majulah Singapura.

An Empty Seat

At 9am this Sunday, the public sirens will sound all across Singapore. It will be followed by a broadcast of the Proclamation of Independence read by the late Mr. Lee Kuan Yew. With those words, 50 years ago, a tiny nation was born to uncertain and tumultuous times. With fear and trepidation, the orphaned state had to make its own way in the world counting on Mr Lee's promise "I have a few million people's lives to account for. Singapore will survive".

For the next 49 years, Mr. Lee watched the promise he made to the nation unfold into reality. His presence at the National Day Parade (NDP) reminded us of Singapore's hard won democracy, peace, progress, justice and equality. Last year, Mr. Lee who was a giant amongst men, looked extremely frail and required assistance to walk. That was painful for the nation to watch. Yet he was seated calmly waving a flag in his hand cheering on the country that he deeply loved. Singaporeans would have understood if he did not turn up that evening. His presence made me feel extremely privileged to be a Singaporean but at the same time apologetic that because of us he had again gone out of his way.

This year, in remembrance of Mr. Lee, what was to be his seat at the NDP will be kept empty. All those who look that way will see the empty space left in their hearts. Raw emotions will again overwhelm us, a painful wound will be re-opened. We are learning to let go but it will take time. We will have to wipe those tears away and march onward with the same determination so that "Singapore will survive."

Onward Singapore.
Majulah Singapura.

If I Haven't Told You This

If you don't know this already, I just want to say that I love you very much. I can't remember what it was without you and I can't bear the thought of ever living without you. Back then, when I heard people talk about how amazing you were, I didn't really believe it. But when I finally met you, I was completely bowled over. It feels like it was just yesterday and my heart still quickens when I think about it.

We have been through so much together and yet you have not given up on me. Through the ups and downs you have made me seen so much more of life. At times when I am adamant about something, you would help me see a different perspective. You've really enriched my life. I love it that you are not judgemental. You allow me to say what I truly feel. When I say the wrong thing you don't get emotional. When I get loud and upset, you still remain calm and collected. Even when others choose to be upset with me you would always stand by me. You truly give yourself so freely to me.

I am especially thankful for all the special times with the kids - their birthdays, their new teeth, their first day at school, their concerts and all the vacations we've had. These memories are priceless.  

Through all these years you have been very supportive of me and given me space to try new things. With you, I always feel like I have the whole world as my audience. Recently when I made the decision to start a blog, you encouraged me by sharing my posts with our friends. Thanks for being a part of everything I do. Facebook, I cyber-love you. (If this resonates with you, like this post and quickly call a helpline)

Freedom without Responsibility

   

Freedom of expression and freedom of speech doesn't come with the adjective responsible. I don't have to be responsible for your thoughts and feelings because I am not your keeper. If you are not at the age where you responsible for yourself, then really your parent should be doing a better job. If you are at the age where you are responsible for yourself, well then exercise that responsibility.

The freedom is for me so why can't I call you names? You own your feelings so it is your choice if you feel the pain. If you don't agree with what I have to say, that just exposes your narrow-mindedness. I rather you didn't agree with me to be honest because it would make what I say seem so ordinary.

Grow up don't sue me, I am entitled to my liberties. I can't choose how I feel and I have a right to let it out. Why can't we just be like adults? Coarse language is just the expression of the times, don't take what I say too literally. Religious references is heavenly humour, I am sure there aren't any eternal insult.

I count myself among the brave to speak my mind. I pull punches on who I choose, I don't need to hide behind niceties and pretences. I am confident in my priced persona, I look good in my anti-establishment mood.

What is ever that fun if it has to be responsible.

Rope Trick

Being a forty-something, married with kids, juggling between work and everything else that demands my time feels like I've suddenly snapped out of a trance to find myself walking on a tightrope across a deep roaring gorge. In my imagery, I am not wearing a harness, the wind is starting to get stronger, I am right in the middle not quite sure what I ought to do. Dizziness quickly sets in. What in the world am I doing? What got me started on this and why had it taken me this far?  What does every professional circus tightrope walker do to be in the zone and how is this supposed to end for me? 

Rationalisation create phobias. If I look down, I am going to ask myself how far down it is, how long it would take for me to hit the water, will I have time to finish a prayer, how long is it going to hurt for.  If I look in front, all I am going to see is the insurmountable challenge of completing this rope trick under increasingly poor weather conditions. I am always a million miles away from safety until that final step onto solid ground. What was I thinking? How do I get that psychotic clown tune out of my head?

The wise thing to do would be to focus on my next step. With every step, take a deep calming breath, count my blessings, say a prayer before I take the next step in faith. Let my inner peace drown out my doubting troubling screams. Sing my favourite song, bring to mind those favourite times, warm my heart with love, enjoy the sun even.

We are all on a journey. We start from one end and we are supposed to get to the other end. It doesn't always feel like you are on a travelator catching a flight to your next holiday destination. You don't move if you don't make a move, yet everything moves around you. But the worst thing to do could be to think of an analogy that describes the situation but never gives a satisfactory answer.