By Tam Yong Yuee
As Mother's Day neared, my mood turned pensive. The rain pattered on the water convolvulus (kangkong) patch in my backyard. The kangkong leaves are extended, like arms stretched heavenwards, unashamedly glorifying in the life-refreshing rain. Like a child with outstretched hands rushing towards his mother's open arms, reaching for that warm, comforting embrace.
My mother passed way over five months ago. I sensed the desperation (or was it fear?) in her face during the last moments. There are some religious and some superstitious explanations for that. Whatever. It was heart-rending, to say the least. If she had just slipped away in her sleep, I could have accepted it more placidly.
To my simple, finite mind, I could only interpret that desperate clinging to life as the hurt of being forcefully wrenched away from her loved ones.
In life, we take many things for granted. Mother's love for one. Mothers may not express their love in very apparent ways. But tucked snugly in a special corner of their heart, it is there, ready to be dispensed anywhere, any time.
How often when we need her help, she is there to look after our children (her grandchildren), or to prepare that delicious home-cooked meal to warm the stomach and heart - unconditionally.
Yet, it does not take a lot to please her. Just reach for that phone in your pocket or handbag. It will only take a few moments of your precious time. I had often seen how my mother's face lit up as she talked to her offspring on the phone.
So those of you who have the time for your mum today, don't let it end there.
Consecrate a prayerful and loving thought for her in your heart each passing day. May God bless all mothers!
From Starmag
Friday, August 5, 2011
Thanks For The Laughter
By Vishalini Sankaran
Over the years of my life, I have had countless friends. The one thing similar among all of us was the presence of our grandparents. We always had something to say about them, be it good or bad. I remember a friend who said that she never saw any of her grandparents because she was born after they had died. I vividly remember feeling sorry for her. As a little child, I thought my grandparents would be around for good. The thought of their dying never crossed my mind.
But as I became an adult, I began to accept the fact that human beings are not immortal. But my childlike belief still lingers. Secretly, I wish that my old bones will never perish. I lost three of my grandparents pretty early in life. But my maternal grandmother was there all through the years with us.
Grandmother was more like my friend ... my dearest friend, I would say. I remember her for the laughter and gossip we shared. I can hardly recall her reprimanding me for any reason. We used to sit and talk, and she would update me on the latest happenings in the family - with the added "spices", of course.
I remember her sitting at the patio of our house peeling kilos of ikan bilis, for me to take along when I went abroad to study. She would be peeling from sunrise right until sunset. When I peeped on her, I would occasionally see her stretching her stiff neck, due to her small body bending over too long in one position. But when I asked, she would deny the pain. Talk about being selfless.
But now, at 26, I have lost my best friend. Together with her, I have lost my tea-time partner and my story-teller. Now, neither I nor anyone would know the many stories she had in her head. My heart aches when I recall the days of laughter with her. She was an example of pure true happiness - something we miss in this busy life we lead. Oh, how I miss her.
An old African saying comes to mind: "When a grandparent dies, it is like a whole library being burnt down." Happy Mother's Day to the mother of my mother. Thank you for giving me the reason to laugh heartily.
From Starmag on Mother's Day
Over the years of my life, I have had countless friends. The one thing similar among all of us was the presence of our grandparents. We always had something to say about them, be it good or bad. I remember a friend who said that she never saw any of her grandparents because she was born after they had died. I vividly remember feeling sorry for her. As a little child, I thought my grandparents would be around for good. The thought of their dying never crossed my mind.
But as I became an adult, I began to accept the fact that human beings are not immortal. But my childlike belief still lingers. Secretly, I wish that my old bones will never perish. I lost three of my grandparents pretty early in life. But my maternal grandmother was there all through the years with us.
Grandmother was more like my friend ... my dearest friend, I would say. I remember her for the laughter and gossip we shared. I can hardly recall her reprimanding me for any reason. We used to sit and talk, and she would update me on the latest happenings in the family - with the added "spices", of course.
I remember her sitting at the patio of our house peeling kilos of ikan bilis, for me to take along when I went abroad to study. She would be peeling from sunrise right until sunset. When I peeped on her, I would occasionally see her stretching her stiff neck, due to her small body bending over too long in one position. But when I asked, she would deny the pain. Talk about being selfless.
But now, at 26, I have lost my best friend. Together with her, I have lost my tea-time partner and my story-teller. Now, neither I nor anyone would know the many stories she had in her head. My heart aches when I recall the days of laughter with her. She was an example of pure true happiness - something we miss in this busy life we lead. Oh, how I miss her.
An old African saying comes to mind: "When a grandparent dies, it is like a whole library being burnt down." Happy Mother's Day to the mother of my mother. Thank you for giving me the reason to laugh heartily.
From Starmag on Mother's Day
Someday Is Here And Now
A friend of mine opened his wife's underwear drawer and picked up a silk paper wrapped package: "This," he said, "isn't any ordinary package." He unwrapped the box and stared at both the silk paper and the box. "She got this the first time we went to New York, eight or nine years ago. She has never put it on. Was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is it."
He went over to the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house. His wife had just died.
He turned to me and said: "Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion."
I still think those words changed my life. Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I understand that life should be a source of experience to be enjoyed, not survived. I no longer keep anything. I use crystal glasses every day. I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. I don't save my special perfume for special occasions, I use it whenever I want to.
The words "someday" and "one day" are fading away from my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing, listening to or doing, I want to see, listen to or do it now. I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends. She might have called old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I'd like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favourite food. It's these small things that I would regret not doing if my time comes.
I would regret it, because I would no longer see the friends I would meet, or write the letters that I wanted to write "one of this days". I would feel sad because I didn't say to my brothers and sons, not enough times at least, how much I love them. Now, I try not to delay, postpone or keep anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives. And each morning, I say to myself that this is a special day. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.
Sent to Starmag by Lee Chen Hoe
He went over to the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house. His wife had just died.
He turned to me and said: "Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion."
I still think those words changed my life. Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I understand that life should be a source of experience to be enjoyed, not survived. I no longer keep anything. I use crystal glasses every day. I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. I don't save my special perfume for special occasions, I use it whenever I want to.
The words "someday" and "one day" are fading away from my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing, listening to or doing, I want to see, listen to or do it now. I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends. She might have called old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I'd like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favourite food. It's these small things that I would regret not doing if my time comes.
I would regret it, because I would no longer see the friends I would meet, or write the letters that I wanted to write "one of this days". I would feel sad because I didn't say to my brothers and sons, not enough times at least, how much I love them. Now, I try not to delay, postpone or keep anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives. And each morning, I say to myself that this is a special day. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.
Sent to Starmag by Lee Chen Hoe
Seize the Moment
Letter from an 83-year-old:
I am reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savour, not to endure.
I'm trying to recognise these moments now and cherish them. I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out RM28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary; if it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what others would have done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted.
I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologise and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favourite food was. I'm guessing; I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and children often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and lustre to our lives.
And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift.
People say true friends must always hold hands. But true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there.
I don't believe in miracles. I rely on them. Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here, we might as well dance.
Sent to Starmag by Lydia Chin
When Are You A Grown-Up?
By Susan Campbell
We ask children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and we expect them to name an occupation - fire-fighter, teacher, the president.
We never ask them - "And how will you know when you're a grown-up?" - because we don't know ourselves, and our confusion might scare them.
When I was a child, I formulated my own definition of "grown-up". Grown-ups were so dependable that they drove cars through the night, and you, the child, were safe enough to go to sleep in the back seat.
But after a certain age, you realised responsibly driving through the night is not the be-all you once thought it to be.
So when are you a grown-up? When you get your first credit card? Your first pay cheque? When you first have sex? At age 21? When you have your first child? When your parent dies?
We worry about the stress we place on our adolescents, our almost-adults, without ever asking whether introducing the idea of adolescence opens the door for an adolescence that never ends. Ours is one of the few cultures in the world that want to have a space between childhood and adulthood, where the young person is given a shot at adult behaviour without adult consequences.
Is this good? Maybe not, because if you look around, it would appear that adolescence get stretched further and further into one's 20s, 30s and 40s.
But who am I to talk? Through no fault of my own, I am a baby boomer. We who vowed never to trust anyone over 30 can only see that age through the rear view. Yet many of us look a tad arrested, developmentally speaking.
Look at Enron. Criminal behaviour, sure, but shockingly, childishly selfish, too. Listen to the sabre-rattling from the US president, which sounds like nothing so much as seventh-grade "mine's-bigger" locker room talk. A day of reckoning, indeed.
Things being so confusing, I humbly offer the following list, randomly selected, tried and true by its author, as a way of knowing when you've achieved grown-up status.
You know you're a grown-up when you accept the following:
We ask children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and we expect them to name an occupation - fire-fighter, teacher, the president.
We never ask them - "And how will you know when you're a grown-up?" - because we don't know ourselves, and our confusion might scare them.
When I was a child, I formulated my own definition of "grown-up". Grown-ups were so dependable that they drove cars through the night, and you, the child, were safe enough to go to sleep in the back seat.
But after a certain age, you realised responsibly driving through the night is not the be-all you once thought it to be.
So when are you a grown-up? When you get your first credit card? Your first pay cheque? When you first have sex? At age 21? When you have your first child? When your parent dies?
We worry about the stress we place on our adolescents, our almost-adults, without ever asking whether introducing the idea of adolescence opens the door for an adolescence that never ends. Ours is one of the few cultures in the world that want to have a space between childhood and adulthood, where the young person is given a shot at adult behaviour without adult consequences.
Is this good? Maybe not, because if you look around, it would appear that adolescence get stretched further and further into one's 20s, 30s and 40s.
But who am I to talk? Through no fault of my own, I am a baby boomer. We who vowed never to trust anyone over 30 can only see that age through the rear view. Yet many of us look a tad arrested, developmentally speaking.
Look at Enron. Criminal behaviour, sure, but shockingly, childishly selfish, too. Listen to the sabre-rattling from the US president, which sounds like nothing so much as seventh-grade "mine's-bigger" locker room talk. A day of reckoning, indeed.
Things being so confusing, I humbly offer the following list, randomly selected, tried and true by its author, as a way of knowing when you've achieved grown-up status.
You know you're a grown-up when you accept the following:
- The smoke alarm will start chirping precisely at 2.38am. Every time. And you will get up bleary-eyed and fumble through a drawer for a new battery and take care of it, but not before you've wandered through the house wringing your hands trying to ascertain precisely which alarm is chirping. And you will be back in bed by four, at the latest. Every time.
- When the phone company sends you a bill, it is serious in its desire that you pay it.
- Same with the credit card company.
- One day, you will stand at Blockbuster and endure some young pup's snide comments about "your music" or "your movies" that place the entire boomer culture in a dusty denim-covered box that smell slightly of patchouli. And rather than fire off a retort, you will smile and think, "Keep on living, sweetheart."
- Conversely, your movies, your music and your clothes will eventually be recycled as high fashion, and the most you will be able to muster is bemusement. Of course! Dennis Hopper is God! So is Peter Fonda! And Americans all smoke marijuana, marched against the war in Vietnam and went to Woodstock to roll around in the mud! That's precisely how I remember it, too! Now, if I could just remember how to make a peace symbol with my hand...
- Someone will always be the first in line. That someone will rarely be you.
- You will come upon a 20-year-old picture of yourself and think two things: 1) My God, I've been alive long enough to have 20-year-old memories, and 2) I have aged.
- You'll find yourself relying less on those unguents that promise you youth in a bottle and more on good old Ivory soap and Noxzema.
- The day will come when you know fewer than 20% of the people on those magazine end-of-the-year list of famous, sexy, interesting people. And you'll care even less.
- You will wander through the house searching for your keys, only to discover they were in your hand the whole time.
- Same with reading glasses.
- Along those lines, you will walk into a room and forget why you bothered, but you will notice something in the room that amuses you, and you won't feel too bad about the whole adventure.
- You will cultivate the ability to say "I'm sorry" and mean it.
From Starmag
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
10 Ways to Love
Listen
without interrupting
Speak
without accusing
Give
without sparing
Pray
without ceasing
Answer
without arguing
Share
without pretending
Enjoy
without complaint
Trust
without wavering
Forgive
without punishing
Promise
without forgetting
without interrupting
Speak
without accusing
Give
without sparing
Pray
without ceasing
Answer
without arguing
Share
without pretending
Enjoy
without complaint
Trust
without wavering
Forgive
without punishing
Promise
without forgetting
Sunday, July 24, 2011
:: Ash Greig's 10 Steps to Moving On ::
We've all had to say goodbye to someone we cared about at some point of our lives. Sometimes it takes a long time to get over it, sometimes it doesn't. It could be a family member, a friend, a significant other. Perhaps a fight had been the cause of the two of you falling apart. Perhaps it was death. It all has one thing in common: the hurt and pain that you feel inside, knowing that no amount of tears can make you feel better.
I recently had a fallout with one of my best friends. We have been besties for 6 years, ever since we met in high school. We shared secrets, and loved each other like no other. We promised to be there for each other til the day we die. We would study abroad together, be each other's bridesmaid/best man at our respective weddings, and grow old together.
However, fate had other plans for us. We had a huge fight, and it has been almost a month since I last spoke to him. I know that we will never be on talking terms again, and just thinking about it brings me to tears. How can I go on living without him by my side? Instead of sinking into depression, I realized that I had so many other people around me that love me and wouldn't want me to give up on life. That was when I decided that I will get back up on my feet and continue my journey in life. It hurts, but this is life and it comes only once. If I don't live it to the fullest, who else will?
So here it is, my 10 Steps to Moving On.
Step 1: Clear your baggage. You've got to accept the fact that he's now happier with another girl, or that she's left the world to go to a better place. It's okay to cry and be sad, but only for a short while. There's no turning back, so all that's left for you to do is continue with your journey with fond memories of him/her in your mind. :)
Step 2: Let it all out. Write in a journal, or talk to someone about what you feel. Situations are always easier to handle when you're not bottling up your emotions. :)
Step 3: Hang out with friends. Having a day out shopping or playing futsal with your buddies never fails to get you feeling good about yourself, and in turn being truly happy again. :)
Step 4: Do something for yourself. Pamper yourself at the spa or get a new haircut. It'll definitely help in boosting your self-esteem and confidence. :)
Step 5: Hit the gym! Working out is a good way to channel all that energy into doing something good for your body. Instead of sitting in front of the TV watching "Hatchiko" and bawling your eyes out with a box of popcorn, jump on the treadmill for half an hour. You'd feel much better afterwards. :)
Step 6: Give a little more focus to your work. Not only it would bring you satisfaction as you see yourself getting better by the day, it would take you one step closer to that promotion and raise that you've been eying on for some time now. :)
Step 7: Get a new hobby. Start baking, or learn how to play golf. Keep yourself occupied with something new, and you'll find yourself sinking lesser into depression because you're simply too busy to think of him/her. :)
Step 8: Take it as a lesson in life. Everything that happens every day is a learning experience for us. Perhaps losing her would get you to realize that one shouldn't be too clingy, or that his death is a reminder that one should never drink and drive. :)
Step 9: Meet new people. Get to know more colleagues from work, or ask your pals to introduce you to their friends. It'll help you to get your mind off him/her, and expand your network - in addition to helping you get connected to people of similar interests with you! :)
Step 10: Forgive. Perhaps you never had the chance to tell him that you loved him, or she broke your heart into pieces. Forgive yourself, or him/her. Playing the blaming game will never solve the problem, and doesn't help in any way if you want to move on. Come to terms with reality, and you're on your way to being okay. :)
Written by Ashley Greig
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