a leg to stand on

Oliver Sacks has passed away. Hearing the news feels a bit like hearing of the death of an old friend whom one has lost contact with for many years. i was a big Oliver Sacks fan from the early to mid 2000s. His books opened my mind to another world so different from the one i inhabited -- the world of medicine, of science, of a reality often stranger than fiction.
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In particular, A Leg To Stand On -- his memoir of injury and recovery -- came to me at a time in my life when i needed to read it. Or rather, needed to meet it. Because it's such an honest book, and so intelligent and beautifully written -- reading it gave the illusion that i was somehow meeting the man himself. It shifted the way i thought about what it means to be human, how we understand ourselves, what makes us who we are. About how the body shapes the mind, and vice versa. i think this link -- between the physical and the emotional / psychological, the body and the spirit, has been one of my lasting obsessions ever since. i think it's partly why i loved Coetzee so much -- because that's one of his enduring themes, too.
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Reading of Sacks's passing made me realise that i haven't seen the book on my bookshelves for years. i think i lent it to a friend and never got round to getting it back from her, and now she's far far away, in Canada. Looks like i'll have to buy another copy.
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anger

i think the things that make you angry are a good clue to what you care most about. So: i get angry -- fuming, see-red angry -- about well-written writing (i can't bring myself to say 'good writing' ... ) directed towards a bad cause, or written in a spirit that's calculated to hurt and destroy. Especially when i see such writing coming from our writers here in Singapore. Especially when such writing gets praised and admired simply because it's subversive and daring. That's one of the problems that comes with an excessively regulated society -- you get all these teenage-like hitting-outs that, despite having very little substance, get lionised because they are seen as courageous and anti-establishment. i do not like the notion that my country may be regressing into intellectual adolescence.
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So go on and write something better, said the Anger.
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those who can ...

...... frequently can't teach.
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It's the other side of the the "those who can, do; those who can't, teach" equation -- the people who best know how to do something, often don't know how to teach others to do it, simply because it comes so easily and instinctively to them that they don't know how to break it down into simple steps that others less skilled than them can follow. It's the rare teacher who is also among the best at what he/she does.
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On the other hand ...
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i have this theory that "those who can", and who want to shape and influence and mould, often make good mentors. Which is different from being a teacher. The way i see it, mentors are people who guide you while you're making your way. They've been on the journey that you're on, and they're further ahead than you, and they're helping you to find your way yourself. They don't always teach; sometimes (mostly?) they give advice, and act as a sounding board. And when they do teach, it's not the basics that they're teaching, because they work with 'mentees' who have talent and potential, who just need someone to help polish that potential and turn it into something shiny and new.
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pragmatic idealism

There's a long post (rant!) i'm going to have to write one day about idealists who don't take reality into account when fighting for their ideals. For some reason they really really get on my nerves. Even more than realists with no ideals -- those i find sad and frightening, but i don't get irritated. Several years ago, a friend of mine identified himself as a pragmatic idealist. Now those are the kind of people i can talk to.
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heart of a champion

So yes, my table-tennis coach is a former national player. It must be so terribly frustrating for her to have to teach people like me ......
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i love watching her play with the Guys-Who-Really-Know-How-To-Play -- there's such a sense of freedom and power and just sheer joy and exhilaration that is quite wonderful to watch. i think i can sense, too, even though there's really been no occasion for her to show it or use it during our sessions, the discipline and focus needed to perform at the highest levels. i can see glimpses of it, especially in the way she trains the guys. It's quite an inspiration, really. And i'm not just (or even mainly) talking about table-tennis.
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'tis the season ...

...... for marking bad writing. Which always drives me to desperate behaviour. Such as, playing the piano, which i usually don't do. So today i dug up Beethoven's Piano Sonatas (Vol 2, Urtext edition by Some Chinese Publisher), Bach's 48 Preludes and Fugues (Vol. 1, ABRSM edition), Brahms' Six Pieces for Piano Op. 118 (ABRSM edition). i haven't played some of these for ages. The Beethovens, in particular -- felt like long-lost friends. And new friends too -- i dared to try sight-reading the openings of his late sonatas for the first time in my life. i think, for the moment, the first few bars is as far as i will go.
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It struck me today in a newly visceral way -- the best music feels like the composer is urgently trying to tell you something. i've always known this, intellectually. But something happened today with the Beethoven late sonatas. Maybe it's because i'm not familiar enough with the music -- perhaps having to pay real attention to the notes, made me hear the music better. Maybe it's because it's Beethoven. Maybe it's because it's his late sonatas -- they're not so singingly melodic, and so they sound more like speech. Whatever the case. It was just a rather strange moment when the notes felt like words, like conversation.
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Also discovered a photocopied booklet of Shostakovich's 24 Preludes, Op. 34. i don't think i ever played a single one of them. New music, perhaps, for the next time i feel driven to desperation. Which will be very soon, i daresay. Tomorrow, perhaps.
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strength

Thinking again about my friend who's stubbornly headed in the wrong direction ...

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She's a strong person. Very, very strong. Sometimes i wonder if that strength is a kind of desensitisation -- having grown up in a broken home, maybe she's gotten so used to pain and difficulty that she really doesn't realise how bad they are when she encounters them. i've often thought that she has a masochistic streak -- she stays far too long in unhealthy places, telling herself that she's learning important life lessons from them.
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i don't know, really. i agree that staying in a difficult place can be good for the soul. But that's only if there's some kind of duty or obligation to stay, if the reason for staying is a worthy one, if you can be a positive agent in the situation, and if there's some kind of external barrier preventing you from moving away. Otherwise, there really is no need to linger in a place that is hurting you emotionally or spiritually or God forbid, physically. That's foolishness, not wisdom.

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i think that, like most other things, strength can be both good and bad. It enables people to persevere and endure, to triumph over difficulty; but, applied wrongly, without discernment, it can also mean putting up for far too long with things that should not be endured. i think that in this particular instance, the wise thing to do would be to let go, or, in the memorable words of another of her friends, "get her ass out of there". But she's clinging on -- a case of strength misapplied, i think.

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stopping by the gardens on a sunny afternoon

When they announced that the Botanic Gardens had been gazetted as a UNESCO World Heritage Site some weeks ago, i was glad, but also a little skeptical. i mean, it's great that the place has been set apart and protected -- it means that we'll "forever" (to use LKY's word in the Proclamation of Singapore) have this lovely green space in the middle of the city, untouchable by the developers. It also means that we have one more reason to boast about being a green city -- a trump card to pull out whenever those pesky Nature Society people accuse us of cutting down more trees, damaging our green spaces, etc -- and that might mean that it will become easier to un-green other parts of the island, because we know that this bit is holding the green fort on behalf of the country as a whole.
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Perhaps that's just being too cynical. In any case, it's a lovely space. The woods are lovely, dark and deep -- cool, green, and shady, and a wonderful place to just go walking in when you need to think, or when you need a break from thinking. It's nice to just get away from the buildings buildings buildings everywhere, to see old trees with their branches reaching up or bending down so gracefully, to feel their bark rough beneath your hands. To see people jogging, walking their dogs, playing frisbee on wide open fields, picnicking, or just lying on a mat and not doing anything at all.
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serenity. courage. wisdom.

Watching a friend struggle with something she wants so much but is clearly not for her -- it's painful, and frustrating. The thing is, i don't even think that this thing she wants so much is as good as she thinks it is in the first place. It's frightening, how blind she can be to the signs -- clear, obvious, in-her-face signs -- that this thing is simply not meant to be. And in the process, she's just getting more and more hurt, allowing herself to get more and more hurt.
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i guess one thing you realise after a while is that there's only so much you can do to help, so much you can say. At some point you just have to leave people to live their own lives, learn their own lessons -- even if it seems so clear that they're headed in the wrong direction. Things get to the point where they cannot see and will not listen, and the only thing that will make them see is for them to come to the end of the road themselves, for the journey to reach its logical, painful conclusion ...
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Life lessons for me to learn, i guess. Perseverence is good -- but blind obstinacy is not. If all the signs are pointing in the other direction, if proceeding consistently causes more pain than otherwise, then it's probably time to stop, reflect, and, if necessary, change direction.

i guess, it comes down to this:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change; courage to change the things i can; and wisdom to know the difference.
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Reinhold Niebuhr was a very wise man.
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silence. stillness. simplicity.

It's been LKY Weekend as much as it's been National Day Weekend. Here's an extraordinary video of an interview he gave in his last years -- on meditation.
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Quotable quote: " ... there is an inner self which is more important than the one who's thinking about himself."
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happy 50th, Singapore!

".. as from today the ninth day of August in the year one thousand nine hundred and sixty-five Singapore shall forever be 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."

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SG50

On this the weekend of my country's Golden Jubilee, i remember this -- the beautiful last paragraph from JM Coetzee's Life & Times of Michael K, and possibly my favourite closing paragraph in all of Literature, bar none. i've posted it on this blog before ...
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"And if the old man climbed out of the cart and stretched himself (things were gathering pace now) and looked at where the pump had been that the soldiers had blown up so that nothing should be left standing, and complained, saying, "What are we going to do about water?", he, Michael K, would produce a teaspoon from his pocket, a teaspoon and a long roll of string. He would clear the rubble from the mouth of the shaft, he would bend the handle of the teaspoon in a loop and tie the string to it, he would lower it down the shaft deep into the earth, and when he brought it up there would be water in the bowl of the spoon; and in that way, he would say, one can live."
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trees (3)

Artistic inspiration is so darned inconvenient. This trees idea is threatening to derail my writing plans for November and December. Possibly my schedule for the next 3 months leading up to November and December as well. Dammit.
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And yet. Oh the joy!!!
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trees (2)

i think the best sign that something might be a good thing to write about, is when thinking about that thing gives you a feeling of mute brimfulness. i feel that way about trees.
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trees

Finding a place to call 'home' -- perhaps ultimately it all comes down to looking for that one thing we can love unequivocally. Because of, and in spite of. i know there are all kinds of things about Singapore i'm supposed to love and be proud of. But, i think, at the end of the day, what i love most about it, might after all be something that most people here usually take for granted.
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We don't notice our trees very often. Yet they are such an important part of our cityscape -- especially those glorious old trees with the trunks more than a metre in diameter, the wide crowns spreading up and out towards the sky, the ferns and creepers and vines entwining themselves round and up the trunks and branches, trailing green towards the roads and pavements. LKY was known by the NParks people as our country's Chief Gardener, and it's wonderful to hear stories of how he took notice of individual trees, made inquiries into their well-being. So much solicitude and care, just for our trees!
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i don't know of any other city in the world that takes such good care of its trees. There's something beautiful about it. It's worth celebrating -- 50 years of nationhood, 50 years of tending to our trees.
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to make something lasting from the great heap of days

i like to think that you can know important things about other people from the things that they like, and the reasons they like them. The things we love and admire are mirrors of who we wish to be. Here's William Fiennes, writing about a writer he admires.
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"To sound like no one else is among a true writer’s primary tasks, and Salter’s style, his voice, is entirely his own. He loved the cadences and sensations of language. He understood the “electric potential” in words; he recognised that “too much electricity will make your reader’s hair frizzy.” Reading Salter it’s as if, like the narrator of “A Sport and a Pastime”, you’re eavesdropping on the conduct of a love affair—an affair between the writer and his language, or between the language and the world it describes. You read these books not just with your eyes but with your ears, and sometimes through the pores in your skin. He made something lasting from the great heap of days."
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two sentences

'Ruth's cabin, Sam's gentle friendliness, George's passion for birds: these were gifts. Without them, I might easily have lost heart.'
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(from The Snow Geese, William Fiennes)
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i've raved about this book on this blog before -- there's so much to love and admire about it. i honestly do think it's one of the best books i've ever read, period. Thinking about it again, today, i realised that in that whole litany of Things I Love About This Book, these two sentences stand out for me as the bit that really, really made me fall in love with it, and therefore also a little in love with (my idea of) its author.
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One of the things i often say about things i like is that i'm not quite sure why i like them so much. This goes back a long way -- i remember, back in 2nd year uni, telling my laughing-blue-eyed gentle-humoured tutor that i can never write about the books i love most; it's the ones i dislike that bring out a paradoxical eloquence.
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In this case, though, i think talking about two sentences might just about be manageable. i love the gratitude that comes across in them, the ability to see life's blessings for what they are; and also, the humility and resilience. At this point in the book, Fiennes has been travelling alone for a long time, and has almost reached the end of his journey. And he is just about losing heart. The loneliness, the tiredness -- these things are getting to him, and i like the fact that he admits it. And it's just wonderful to follow the narrative as he picks up the little crumbs strewn along the path and uses them for sustenance as he makes his way forward towards his destination.
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God give me the grace and strength to be the same.
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question of the day

What motivates people to do their best, to be their best selves? Given that every individual is different, that there is no one-size-fits-all answer, how does one design policy (whether it be economic or social policy at the national level, HR policy in a corporate organisation, classroom policy in a school, or parenting policy in a family ... ) to promote positive, desired behaviours?
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And desired by whom, anyway? What if a student simply does *not* desire to do well? What if a man (or woman) simply does *not* desire to be a responsible parent or partner? What then?
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