19 February 2012
Miracles In The Eyes
Perfection is subjective. It is never truly the same from one being to another. Subjectivity is what makes the world wonderful. It means that in a world of imperfections, perfection lie for those who look - for those who knows where to look and what to look for...
We all dream of achieving perfection be it in the smallest part of our being to the largest of matters in life. We all wish to pass through our days unscathed and whole but it is never so. We all avoid conflict or tend to resolve it in the best way we can think of...
Sometimes, a crack opens up. We go around it, jump over it, carefully tread around it and altogether with all our might, evade. Even after all those precautions, we often trip and hence, the crack will grow. With one trip came the second, the third and the so on and so forth. Soon, as is the will of the universe, the crack grew and with it the uncertainty we felt and faced. Fear comes to grip us, threatening to engulf us...
Fear of one that is uncertain against the rest of the room we have still - that which is solid and certain - and which do we pay more attention to? The hole, I guess. What a waste...
I say: damn the darkness! Illuminate and wash it away! What is there to fear in something unknown? Not much, only uncertainty. And isn't there enough of it in the world? Why add more to it?
We all dream of achieving perfection be it in the smallest part of our being to the largest of matters in life. We all wish to pass through our days unscathed and whole but it is never so. We all avoid conflict or tend to resolve it in the best way we can think of...
Sometimes, a crack opens up. We go around it, jump over it, carefully tread around it and altogether with all our might, evade. Even after all those precautions, we often trip and hence, the crack will grow. With one trip came the second, the third and the so on and so forth. Soon, as is the will of the universe, the crack grew and with it the uncertainty we felt and faced. Fear comes to grip us, threatening to engulf us...
Fear of one that is uncertain against the rest of the room we have still - that which is solid and certain - and which do we pay more attention to? The hole, I guess. What a waste...
I say: damn the darkness! Illuminate and wash it away! What is there to fear in something unknown? Not much, only uncertainty. And isn't there enough of it in the world? Why add more to it?
15 February 2012
Till Death Do Us Part
A doctor's job is noble. You treat, you make better, you save, you touch hearts and lives of so many others. It is one of the most heroic career choices to date. Heroic because of the risk doctors take, heroic because of the period of study, training and overall education doctors go through, heroic because of the weight of responsibility doctors burden their shoulders with.
Being a doctor meant you had to face blood and the bleeding - a feat more easily said than done.
Being a doctor meant you had to sacrifice your life to make others healthy and happy even when sometimes you yourself are not.
Being a doctor meant you had to share not only the joy of those around you, but to take in as much pain, suffering, and sickness - both of mind and body - of your patients and their families.
Being a hero meant, sometimes, you do all you can only to realise a life had slipped through your bloody fingers and you are not so heroic afterall. Killer. Murderer!
Life is so full of uncertainties but we strive to prepare for all those murky days - days we could not see coming and going. Death is certain and yet we never make amends for the life hereafter. What manner of logic is that?
Life is also this...for the growing good of the world is partly dependent upon unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
Being a doctor meant you had to face blood and the bleeding - a feat more easily said than done.
Being a doctor meant you had to sacrifice your life to make others healthy and happy even when sometimes you yourself are not.
Being a doctor meant you had to share not only the joy of those around you, but to take in as much pain, suffering, and sickness - both of mind and body - of your patients and their families.
Being a hero meant, sometimes, you do all you can only to realise a life had slipped through your bloody fingers and you are not so heroic afterall. Killer. Murderer!
Life is so full of uncertainties but we strive to prepare for all those murky days - days we could not see coming and going. Death is certain and yet we never make amends for the life hereafter. What manner of logic is that?
Life is also this...for the growing good of the world is partly dependent upon unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
Middlemarch (1871), George Eliot
Doctors, they lead hidden lives, encased in masks that conceal emotions, work with hands steady and strong, only to die unbeknownst to all, at the hands of the foe they themselves fight. Winning skirmishes and losing some, eventually doomed to death by war.
Death is a friend. It teaches us to value life - both ours and others'.
Heroes are born. Ultimately they die. But the acts don't. I know what I want to be. A hero!
Although reality and fictional aspirations rarely go hand in hand, the one thing both agrees on is but one: Heroes too embrace death....
12 February 2012
Heavy As Lead, Slow As Lightning!
Who would've thought the two arms we were born with, that we so faithfully brought with us everywhere we go, the one thing we never forget to bring along can be so heavy. I almost dropped it there a second ago - the bottleneck I was clutching that is, not my arm. I wouldn't know what to do if my arm had been detached from my shoulders.
Would it be painful? Maybe. Maybe not. I could try it one day (if I can muster the courage to chop it off, though I doubt I will ever).
Pain, it seems, has been an everpresent being in my life lately. Pain and all its brothers - numbness, hurt, soreness, aching, scars, scratches, an occasional wince now and then, hitting, splitting, bleeding, cracking, splitting, stabbing breaths - are my newfound friends. I call them friends because they say finding companionship in good times is easy, but true friends are those that stay by you in times of hardships and times of laughter and fun.
Since pain and his brothers only comes at times of hurting, I decided they are friends not true friends but friends all the same.
Their presence has led me to thinking of one thing: just how much suffering can the human body take? It seems just impossible that all these feelings can be contained in one body at any one time. I felt like bursting. I really do...
And, on another unrelated thought, who would've known that lightning fast can be so slow? To share is human, to sacrifice divine. I made that up, by the way :]
Would it be painful? Maybe. Maybe not. I could try it one day (if I can muster the courage to chop it off, though I doubt I will ever).
Pain, it seems, has been an everpresent being in my life lately. Pain and all its brothers - numbness, hurt, soreness, aching, scars, scratches, an occasional wince now and then, hitting, splitting, bleeding, cracking, splitting, stabbing breaths - are my newfound friends. I call them friends because they say finding companionship in good times is easy, but true friends are those that stay by you in times of hardships and times of laughter and fun.
Since pain and his brothers only comes at times of hurting, I decided they are friends not true friends but friends all the same.
Their presence has led me to thinking of one thing: just how much suffering can the human body take? It seems just impossible that all these feelings can be contained in one body at any one time. I felt like bursting. I really do...
And, on another unrelated thought, who would've known that lightning fast can be so slow? To share is human, to sacrifice divine. I made that up, by the way :]
11 February 2012
Change Is Good
Tunes are everchanging, never constant, never the same. Likewise, people, places, time and faces evolve. The fact is so and that is how it was meant to be. So be it!
Life's wheels rotate and you steer it, change is merely an instrument to measure how far you've traveled - how far you've traversed - and in which direction you have driven yourself in.
Tunes are everchanging, never constant, never the same. So be it!
Life's wheels rotate and you steer it, change is merely an instrument to measure how far you've traveled - how far you've traversed - and in which direction you have driven yourself in.
Tunes are everchanging, never constant, never the same. So be it!
09 February 2012
When Is Time?
Tired. It was as simple as that. That one thing that drained you of all your will to move, your motivation to work, your drive to do anything. I couldn't pay attention in classes, heck I couldn't even stay awake long enough to start paying attention. I'm not proud of it, you know. And the pills aren't helping.
Nevermind that though, I did not start this post to tell you of my problems. They're mine and mine alone, thank you :)
Moving on. Today, we had a celebration of sort. It was done quite late frankly for the real celebration had died out sometime last week (at least I think so). But, we did it anyways for two reasons. One being the lack of available dates on our academic calendar, second being there was no stop to celebrations in Malaysia. As long as there's time, there's a thing to celebrate.
The event was successful I think albeit some problems did rise in the course of the day. A good slap in the back is deserved by the ones responsible for bringing the day all the way till the end. They've earned it.
But after all is said and done, there always comes a time when the fanfare has to end and the dreaded workload comes crashing in. Just as it did. Just as it is. And with it comes the regret of playing too much to the point of overexertion. If only I hadn't used my arms too much two days ago.
What's a quarter to an hour's win to not being able to write that essay waiting to be finished? Two essays to be exact. What's four hours of fun-filled ball play to two days of fatigue and soreness?
For now, I have to stop. Two essays and three more questions are beckoning. I've procrastinated enough and on that note, I stop.
Nevermind that though, I did not start this post to tell you of my problems. They're mine and mine alone, thank you :)
Moving on. Today, we had a celebration of sort. It was done quite late frankly for the real celebration had died out sometime last week (at least I think so). But, we did it anyways for two reasons. One being the lack of available dates on our academic calendar, second being there was no stop to celebrations in Malaysia. As long as there's time, there's a thing to celebrate.
The event was successful I think albeit some problems did rise in the course of the day. A good slap in the back is deserved by the ones responsible for bringing the day all the way till the end. They've earned it.
But after all is said and done, there always comes a time when the fanfare has to end and the dreaded workload comes crashing in. Just as it did. Just as it is. And with it comes the regret of playing too much to the point of overexertion. If only I hadn't used my arms too much two days ago.
What's a quarter to an hour's win to not being able to write that essay waiting to be finished? Two essays to be exact. What's four hours of fun-filled ball play to two days of fatigue and soreness?
For now, I have to stop. Two essays and three more questions are beckoning. I've procrastinated enough and on that note, I stop.
07 February 2012
Making Merry, Mates and Memories
I didn't feel as happy as I would've thought about going out on a trip for the weekends. It was a 4-day holiday, and I can't stop going through all the things I could've done instead. Being in that state, procrastinate I did until the very end. By that I mean this: sleeping late the night before, waking up very early that very day but not packing up to an hour before departing.
Of course, as all late packers like us know all too well, we left a few things behind - some important, others trivial but left it all the same. And, obviously, we didn't realise until the point in time when we rummaged through our bags to find nothing that we didn't put in.
Sitting in the bus was a bore to say the least. I kept watching popping my head behind the blinds to see the passing road which gave me something to do to keep busy. It was enlightening, first because of the once in a lifetime chance to see - actually observe - the path I'd gone through more times than I could or would count. Hard to believe I've passed this route almost every week yet not knowing what laid to its left and right. Second, because of the calm and tranquility it provided.
Coming here again felt good. It brought back memories although somehow the place felt different. It has expanded I realised but it felt smaller someway. Maybe it's just my growing up. Who cares? All I know is that I'm here for the weekend. A weekend with no traffic, no homework, no worries :)
Then, I sort of forgot what happened. I do remember getting bored again, wandering the area looking to swim, acting crazy all the time. Failure to find a deep enough pool of water and a clean enough pool (more importantly) forced me and the rest of our small circle to play cards. We looked like homeless people really with shorts and t-shirts, a towel on our necks, playing cards on the bare ground. I honestly felt like going home that time, I was just a phone call away anyways but I held my hand and tongue.
Sleep didn't come to me that night. I was alone, and cold. One, two, three o'clock. But still I was wide awake. Why can't I sleep? Had I been younger, I would've been scared shitless but I wasn't. In fact, it was the best time I had at camp so far. I played the events of the day over and over again in my head, the BBQ dinner, the night walk which was a bummer for being too short-lived, the endless boredom of wandering without aim, the ice-breaking session, the new names that I couldn't match with a face, and somewhere along those lines, the lines of dream and wake blurred...
Next thing I knew, it was sunrise. Not really, it was still half-past four. More waiting commenced and day two came along.
DAY 2
I was asked by a friend to help with the morning session. Oh well, why not? Then it was breakfast followed by a long trip up and up the back of the forest we went. Fueled by the anticipation of a waterfall at the top, I went on ahead a little bit lightheaded than the day before despite the lack of shut-eye.
Up and up and up we went. Crossing small rivers, jumping from one moss-covered stone to the next, falling a few times in the process, leaping over roots of trees and fallen logs, up and up and up we went. Then came the distant sound of water over water over rocks over a huge fall. Distant at first, closer and closer then on. Until a clear cut torrent laid before us. Not magnificent but worthwhile it was.
Finally! A clean and fresh gush to cleanse away my worries! Not thinking half, I jumped in the cool water, splashing around (due to slipping most of the time) like an idiot. it was pure joy I tell you. Then it started getting a little bit too crowded for me. But I didn't mind: there was a secluded area where the first of the falling stream fell and that was where I went.
Getting up there was easy, staying there with water pounding your head and body was not but I welcomed the effect it gave: I heard nothing more of the others, not even my friend who had followed me there siting beside me yelling at the top of his voice. I didn't see them either for my eyes were shut tight to prevent water from entering. I wished I could stay there forever.
Alas, all good things come to an end. The whole trip was good too, and therefore it too closed with a snap. However, as one door closed, more than a dozen new ones opened. Remembering names may not be my forte but keeping hold of faces and memories are. With that note, thank God for the chance You gave, thank you friends for making this work, thank you mates for making my life that much more colourful :)
Of course, as all late packers like us know all too well, we left a few things behind - some important, others trivial but left it all the same. And, obviously, we didn't realise until the point in time when we rummaged through our bags to find nothing that we didn't put in.
Sitting in the bus was a bore to say the least. I kept watching popping my head behind the blinds to see the passing road which gave me something to do to keep busy. It was enlightening, first because of the once in a lifetime chance to see - actually observe - the path I'd gone through more times than I could or would count. Hard to believe I've passed this route almost every week yet not knowing what laid to its left and right. Second, because of the calm and tranquility it provided.
Coming here again felt good. It brought back memories although somehow the place felt different. It has expanded I realised but it felt smaller someway. Maybe it's just my growing up. Who cares? All I know is that I'm here for the weekend. A weekend with no traffic, no homework, no worries :)
Then, I sort of forgot what happened. I do remember getting bored again, wandering the area looking to swim, acting crazy all the time. Failure to find a deep enough pool of water and a clean enough pool (more importantly) forced me and the rest of our small circle to play cards. We looked like homeless people really with shorts and t-shirts, a towel on our necks, playing cards on the bare ground. I honestly felt like going home that time, I was just a phone call away anyways but I held my hand and tongue.
Sleep didn't come to me that night. I was alone, and cold. One, two, three o'clock. But still I was wide awake. Why can't I sleep? Had I been younger, I would've been scared shitless but I wasn't. In fact, it was the best time I had at camp so far. I played the events of the day over and over again in my head, the BBQ dinner, the night walk which was a bummer for being too short-lived, the endless boredom of wandering without aim, the ice-breaking session, the new names that I couldn't match with a face, and somewhere along those lines, the lines of dream and wake blurred...
Next thing I knew, it was sunrise. Not really, it was still half-past four. More waiting commenced and day two came along.
DAY 2
I was asked by a friend to help with the morning session. Oh well, why not? Then it was breakfast followed by a long trip up and up the back of the forest we went. Fueled by the anticipation of a waterfall at the top, I went on ahead a little bit lightheaded than the day before despite the lack of shut-eye.
Up and up and up we went. Crossing small rivers, jumping from one moss-covered stone to the next, falling a few times in the process, leaping over roots of trees and fallen logs, up and up and up we went. Then came the distant sound of water over water over rocks over a huge fall. Distant at first, closer and closer then on. Until a clear cut torrent laid before us. Not magnificent but worthwhile it was.
Finally! A clean and fresh gush to cleanse away my worries! Not thinking half, I jumped in the cool water, splashing around (due to slipping most of the time) like an idiot. it was pure joy I tell you. Then it started getting a little bit too crowded for me. But I didn't mind: there was a secluded area where the first of the falling stream fell and that was where I went.
Getting up there was easy, staying there with water pounding your head and body was not but I welcomed the effect it gave: I heard nothing more of the others, not even my friend who had followed me there siting beside me yelling at the top of his voice. I didn't see them either for my eyes were shut tight to prevent water from entering. I wished I could stay there forever.
Alas, all good things come to an end. The whole trip was good too, and therefore it too closed with a snap. However, as one door closed, more than a dozen new ones opened. Remembering names may not be my forte but keeping hold of faces and memories are. With that note, thank God for the chance You gave, thank you friends for making this work, thank you mates for making my life that much more colourful :)
We don't stop playing because we grow old,
We grow old because we stop playing.
-George Bernard Shaw
27 January 2012
Turn of Wheel
As you grow, you forget to celebrate the one special day you turn a year older. Soon, it comes and goes and you don't even think twice of it. But when we were younger, that day holds a meaning - a meaning so great words will not do it justice. You and I both know how it feels. How it felt.
Lil' bro, have fun while you still can. I'm not saying you don't when you get older, just that it's not so carefree as it would be today. So make the most of it. Once the wheels turn, there's no going back. Happy 11th to my favourite brother!
Oh, wait. I only have one brother :p
Lil' bro, have fun while you still can. I'm not saying you don't when you get older, just that it's not so carefree as it would be today. So make the most of it. Once the wheels turn, there's no going back. Happy 11th to my favourite brother!
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| Not the most recent pic :) Still as cute though. |
21 January 2012
Untitled : Desert Bloom
I have often wondered what would've happened if I had taken another path in the course of my life. Would I be the same as I am now? Would I still have met the same people I knew now?
Last night, we had another one of our little adventures. Just a few hours of going out, exploring and laughs. It was good to be able to loosen up a bit. We all needed it direly. Then, it was off to a late dinner. And that's where it started.
The traffic. The misery of moving mere metres every few minutes. The rows and rows of red lights one after another. The never ending procession of cars. And a couple of rude, irresponsible drivers. The list goes on.
Problem was, it was just a normal thing here. But somehow it felt different this time round. I felt differently. Detached from the vessel of my body, distant from the meek talks and occasional laughter. I wonder, this time delving deeper than ever, why do I stay?
Oblivious as I was, their words meant nothing to me at that time. Two floors and one rude driver after that we were out and running. Only to be stopped dead in the jam outside. What a life we all have!
Dinner was awfully filling. I was ready to drop from hunger, so I appreciate the portion I got. But, still the loneliness hung over me. How awkward? To feel lonesome in the midst of friends in the middle of a bustling city bursting with the joy of night-life on a Friday night. The world passed by.
It was there, walking to the car that I heard the question. Not knowing why, of all the exchanges that night, this one did not escape me.
"Did you really want to be here?"
It took a moment to realize though, that they were all looking at me. Avoiding the query, I stepped inside the vehicle. Silence followed. Then my voice came out, dry and hoarse from keeping shut too long. The answer couldn't be clearer.
***
Blue, red, gold and green. I have followed the story with much enthusiasm. Yet, I find myself questioning my understanding of the artwork all the time. It seems that always something new comes in, or perhaps I did not focus on the details the first, second and third time through making new details visible the next I read it.
The ending was just as I have expected: beautiful, joyous with a mix of sorrow. Full of uncertainty but with a warranty for many more good to come, both for the characters as well as the world's populace as a whole. An ending. Also a new beginning. Full of hope and hopeless too (in a good sense).
Nevertheless, a sweet cut to a long and beautifully woven piece of art. The way I look at it, I imagine it to be a piece of cloth that started with a plain thread but has now become a Batik with a loose end at one corner, small and insignificant but capable of disintegrating the whole woven structure with a tug.
Life, it seems, is not so different now is it?
I wouldn't have wished for anything more than to be somewhere in the woods in the singular white structure I would call my home just observing and gaining new perspectives and ideas to put into paper. To write and write my life away in the closeness of mother nature. What joy it would be!
One day, I'll make it come true. A house in the woods. A paper to write on. A life to dwell on and hours upon hours of pen on paper without another car to worry me. I'll be just like the eagle I want to raise: free. A flower in the scorching heat of desert sun. A novel written but untitled. Free.
03 January 2012
3 Days Past
A mighty long break I would say. Yep, and I wonder why myself. Is it that much I have changed I ask you? Well, whosoever shall answer me is anyone's guess. Not me, no. Not me.
Things happen you see. And you never have a say. We all get thrown in the bucket called life. Sometimes we rise to the top. Other times we fall and hit the bottom. Hard. There, at times we get lucky and end up at the spot where that singular light from the single hole shines unto us. Other times? We're blinded by shadows. Nevertheless, thrown all the same. Again and again and again.
Fate can be cruel at times. But men are crueler still. Not all though, no. Just a few. And yet I do not know why because of the deeds of few, all men are branded cruel and evil and shrewd and many more such things better left unsaid.
Similarly, and humorously too, man is stamped all the time in the manner I have stated. I have watched it many a times. I have experienced it many a times.
Forget-me-not. I wish for all of us to learn as we come to a new year. Forget-me-not.
Why is it all too easy for you and I to loose and change our perception of objects, people and places regardless of all prior circumstances.
We cherish a new belonging. Only to curse it when it fail you once when in truth it had served its purpose and more countless times before.
We admire new destinations the minute we set our eyes on it. Yet we blame the place when what we once saw as the most beautiful, the most amazing sights turn sour and unsightly. Never has it occurred to you that the human eyes deteriorate faster than magnificent buildings?
Saddest of all, we love the people we meet in life's cycle. Family, friends and lovers alike. Only to hate the sight of them, to loath their voice, to forget their rights because of one wrong.
Because of the one thing they didn't say. Compared to the hundreds they had said.
Because of the one thing they didn't do. Compared to the thousands they had done.
Because of the one thing they missed. Compared to the millions of wonderful things they noticed of you.
Because of the one time they didn't wish you for your birthday. Compared to the lifetime of good wishes they had for you whether spoken out loud or not.
Because of one faulty action.
Then there are those that forget not because of what was not done. These are those that forget because of things done wrongly.
One mistake. To God-knows-how-many rights.
One accident. To the God-knows-how-many deliberate actions.
One slip of tongue. To all the good things they mentioned of you be it with you knowing it or not.
One hurt. Compared to all the cures they had provided.
Forget-me-not. Forget-you-not. Forget-us-not. Forget them never.
Oh, and Happy New Year. Try to be happy for the year. There's a reason they wish it with a "Happy" upfront instead of a "Sad". New years are fine and all but a new self is better is it not? After all, people cherish new things in life :)
Things happen you see. And you never have a say. We all get thrown in the bucket called life. Sometimes we rise to the top. Other times we fall and hit the bottom. Hard. There, at times we get lucky and end up at the spot where that singular light from the single hole shines unto us. Other times? We're blinded by shadows. Nevertheless, thrown all the same. Again and again and again.
Fate can be cruel at times. But men are crueler still. Not all though, no. Just a few. And yet I do not know why because of the deeds of few, all men are branded cruel and evil and shrewd and many more such things better left unsaid.
Similarly, and humorously too, man is stamped all the time in the manner I have stated. I have watched it many a times. I have experienced it many a times.
Forget-me-not. I wish for all of us to learn as we come to a new year. Forget-me-not.
Why is it all too easy for you and I to loose and change our perception of objects, people and places regardless of all prior circumstances.
We cherish a new belonging. Only to curse it when it fail you once when in truth it had served its purpose and more countless times before.
We admire new destinations the minute we set our eyes on it. Yet we blame the place when what we once saw as the most beautiful, the most amazing sights turn sour and unsightly. Never has it occurred to you that the human eyes deteriorate faster than magnificent buildings?
Saddest of all, we love the people we meet in life's cycle. Family, friends and lovers alike. Only to hate the sight of them, to loath their voice, to forget their rights because of one wrong.
Because of the one thing they didn't say. Compared to the hundreds they had said.
Because of the one thing they didn't do. Compared to the thousands they had done.
Because of the one thing they missed. Compared to the millions of wonderful things they noticed of you.
Because of the one time they didn't wish you for your birthday. Compared to the lifetime of good wishes they had for you whether spoken out loud or not.
Because of one faulty action.
Then there are those that forget not because of what was not done. These are those that forget because of things done wrongly.
One mistake. To God-knows-how-many rights.
One accident. To the God-knows-how-many deliberate actions.
One slip of tongue. To all the good things they mentioned of you be it with you knowing it or not.
One hurt. Compared to all the cures they had provided.
Forget-me-not. Forget-you-not. Forget-us-not. Forget them never.
Oh, and Happy New Year. Try to be happy for the year. There's a reason they wish it with a "Happy" upfront instead of a "Sad". New years are fine and all but a new self is better is it not? After all, people cherish new things in life :)
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