18 Percent Grey

Dialogue

2012-02-05T22:45:00.004+08:00

The conversation continues, even till today.

I must confess, I often have conversations with myself.
I like to think we shape our surrounding to reflect our inner state. Either that or we simply construe our surroundings to be as such.

Blend

2012-02-04T10:55:00.000+08:00

A reflection of our times.

This is Serjilla, one of the Dead Cities of Syria. I arrived in Serjilla from Homs. Reading about the death toll from the Syrian army's shelling of residential neighborhoods in Homs and I can't help but think that maybe Homs will be the Serjilla of our generation. Or is that title already claimed by Quneitra? And so, a rising death toll in Homs, posturing by both Iran and Israel with Hizbollah likely to renew attacks on Israel from Lebanon and it all sounds like the Middle East will burn again. When will we ever learn?

Options

2012-01-31T12:18:00.005+08:00

Cluttered choices crowds out the chooser.

Even from a purely secular perspective, man has always preferred enduring truths over what we loosely term as "scientific truths" - truths that can be displaced, like how Galileo's discoveries displaced Copernicus' only to be superseded by Einstein. To be able to choose, is a great freedom. But how does one exercise choice in this day and age where there are so many competing voices and so many truths that appear to be enduring truths. It is undeniable that scientific advances make our options or choices even more numerous. The extension of life expectancy and basic biological functions such as fertility logically invites a youth oriented population to adopt a non-limits strategy in their youth like search for novel experiences. We act on our choices as if we will live for ever whilst paradoxically being fully aware of the brevity of our existence. It doesn't help that reports or articles about yet another young entrepreneur or more likely these days, another techno-preneur "making it" only increases the sense of possibility and anxiety. Define it as growth and it is exciting. Watch it in real time and, for many of us, life seems to be overcrowded and unsatisfying. So many choices, so many targets, so little time. It would appear then that the most logical thing to do is to start paring down our choices. But where does one begin, being surrounded by all the clutter that we have allowed into our lives or accumulated through our education and conditioning. A slow sorting and sieving process seems to be in order yet this seems to be an even more onerous tasks than having to choose wisely.

Morning

2012-01-30T10:14:00.000+08:00

Today, morning, caged.

I wake and the sky
Is there intact
The paper is white
The ink is black
My charmed life
Harms no one -
No wife, no son.
~Samuel Menashe

Patterns

2012-01-29T00:13:00.001+08:00

I long for a view of the un-caged sky

I have a problem with time. I try to keep it but it constantly escapes; running continuously. But I suppose that is what time should do. To be just in time is all that we can hope for. To want to be beyond time is naive. But how about trying to stop time? They say to give it time and the "it" will heal or disappear. One day I will learn to let go of the "it"- to be just in time. But for now, let me indulge in a memory or two, for here time has come to a standstill.

"Time doesn't act as a fixative, rather as a solvent. But its not convenient to believe this, it doesn't help us get on with our lives so we ignore it..."
~Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

Mysterion

2012-01-28T09:30:00.003+08:00

The dead city of Al Bara, Syria.

The past reveals itself to those who are patient. And through the passage of time, we learn more and more about these ruins and what they used to be - because tomorrow I will be wiser than I was yesterday. If we do not preserve the past, the present and future will be poorer for that. Today I was told that "mystery" can also mean to unravel - a truth undiscoverable except by revelation. That each day there is a bit of this mystery being revealed to me, if only I choose to see it; And a choice is a commitment, implied.

Nurture

2012-01-27T21:35:00.001+08:00

We are expanded by tears,
I was told,
not reduced by them.

Collage

2012-01-24T15:19:00.004+08:00

Days become one, I am who I was.

"I must have been taught, or somehow learned early in my life to break easily away from intimacy. When Massi and I split, no matter what pain there was, I did not fight back. We parted almost too casually. So that long after my relationship with her ended, but still within the spin and eddy of it, I found myself searching for something to explain or excuse it. I stripped everything down to what I thought was the essential truth. But of course it was only a partial truth. Massi said that sometimes, when things overwhelmed me, there was a trick or habit I had: I turned myself into something that did not belong anywhere. I trusted nothing I was told, not even what I witnessed.

It was, she said, as if I had grown up believing that everything was perilous. A deceit must have done that. 'So you give your friendship, your intimacy only to those distant from you...'

'your goddamn cautious heart. Who did you love that did this to you?'
'I loved you...'
'yeah loved, you're leaving my life, aren't you?'

In this way, valid or not, we burned the few good things remaining between us."
~Michael Ondaatje, The Cat's Table

Vital

2012-01-23T14:55:00.003+08:00

du grain a moudre

Yesterday I was reminded that "Life can either be absurd or it can be mysterious". Absurd in the existentialist sense of not having any purpose and mysterious in that there is a purpose but it remains a mystery to us. Ultimately, it is for us to choose. Indeed if I have only see further its because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.

Undone

2012-01-22T23:33:00.008+08:00

Unmade, unread, unfinished, undone.

Some will say that an animal has no soul, almost as if to justify the ease by which us humans can and will take an animal's life. Look into the eyes of your pet and you will feel that it may have more of a soul than us humans, especially when you examine what we humans are capable of. I cried when I had to put Liz down. But I didn't shed a tear when my own grandfather passed on. What does that make me?

A young man cut down early in life is always a sad thing, without having experienced the fullness of life; To pass from this world as a son but never a husband and father. So many things left undone, so much left unspoken, so many moments missed.

L

2012-01-21T23:45:00.000+08:00

And thus, although one dies
With nothing to bequeath
We are left enough
Love to make us grieve

Limbo

2012-01-20T00:45:00.005+08:00

Left hanging

I look back not with regret;
But with the hubris of
wanting to fix the past.

Consolation

2012-01-17T23:00:00.005+08:00

Let the light in.

The power over life and death,
creates a void within;
To be filled with the consolation
that there is stillness beyond.

Universal

2012-01-15T23:10:00.004+08:00

Church, Perspective

The history of mankind is replete with examples of how religion has been used as an excuse to justify man's primal needs of lust, greed and glory. Just look at our recent history and the "clash of civilizations" which pitches an Islamic East versus a Christian West. But even in our personal sphere, we are guilty of using religion as an excuse to mask our lesser sins such as cowardice, hubris and fear. Instead of seeing religion as a common denominator, it has been far too readily used as a divisive tool, allowing us to pick at the difference rather than embrace the similarities. It is even sadder when this happens amongst people who share the same religious roots; that in spite of sharing a common text can proclaim that we worship different gods. To say that it is a matter of perspective maybe to trivialize the matter, yet I do not think that this description really misses the mark. It is about interpretation, perspective but more importantly, it is about consistency in our approach.

No one has ever seen God, but if we love one another, God remains in us and His love is brought to perfection in us.

Mechanical

2012-01-03T18:46:00.003+08:00

At the heart of the matter.

Twin carburetors, no power steering and rear wheel drive - the ingredients for a good drive. I like old and mechanical stuff not as a rejection of modernity but because they require a certain commitment; almost akin to a promise, which these days seems to be a foreign concept. Old or mechanical stuff require commitment from you before it gives, a tacit understanding between user and equipment, creating a relationship - a mechanical watch requires winding before it faithfully records time and likewise a '72 Alfa Romeo requires driving commitment, especially committing to a gear change, before it purrs sweetly. In a society where we are spurred on to be takers (consumers), it is nice to be reminded from time to time that there is also a need to give before we receive, a need to build relationships, a need to understand. But commitment is time consuming. And time is a rare commodity these days. Maybe, if we manage to take time to understand our implements and environ, we may learn that we can receive more if we are prepared to give and what we receive may perhaps last. We may also learn that not everything old or time consuming should be discarded. And that includes old friends and family too.

Countdown

2012-01-02T00:48:00.003+08:00

Keeping time

Another year has come and gone and it has been quite an eventful year, especially after last week. But looking back, it seems like the last three years of my life have been eventful and rather interesting to say the least. Perhaps, it is simply that life just gets more and more complicated with each passing year. Or maybe it is the vagaries and uncertainties of working life and the lack of a prescribed horizon that blurs the lines; I can't quite say for sure. I would like to see the trials of the past few years as the growing pains of my adulthood, because the metamorphosis into adulthood does not take place overnight - growing always involves some pain. So, a new year, a new day, a new beginning and today I am no longer the person I was yesterday. It is all about time and timing, apparently.

We live in time - it holds us and molds us - but I've never felt I understood it very well. And I'm not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assures us passes regularly: tick tock, click clock. Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing - until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.
~Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

Christmas

2011-12-30T00:56:00.004+08:00

Christmas, Material

The past few days have been quite eventful. I have since been reminded that there is beauty in simplicity, that the best form of Christmas celebration is a simple meal with loved ones and good conversation; that a hug at a timely moment is priceless and that there is always a need to look beyond the material. Intangibles. The problem with modernity is that we no longer see the forest for the trees; that for all our knowledge we are not wiser. This is perhaps why I find the story of Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince so endearing - it shows how the cleverness of our age causes us to overlook the essentials. It is the Little Prince, who has a certain naivety, that ultimately sees more and better. What really counts? What is authentic? What keeps us going? I now believe the key is to see what is simple; no more, no less.

Wake

2011-12-23T09:38:00.006+08:00

Taken for granted

For the first time in a long while, I slept without the air-conditioning. Not out of choice but because the darn thing was broken. Fortunately, it is a Singaporean winter these days and the night was nice and cool. It was the morning sun and a light breeze which swayed the blinds that gently roused me; not the mechanical timbre of an alarm clock. I woke to the sound of birds chirping, the cool damp of the morning and the sound of my dogs running about in the garden. Maybe it is true. That sometimes it takes a breakdown to make you remember that its the simple things in life that count; like waking up.

Shadow

2011-12-19T22:26:00.005+08:00

Even in a black and white, the street is no place for the grey.

In our society where boundaries are blurred and ambivalence is the theme of life, it is ever important to remember that there are still absolutes; to escape "Out of the night that covers me".

Monads

2011-12-13T23:54:00.001+08:00

To be naive

I want to be bewildered again, to stop and stare in awe. To wander, ponder, wonder; I want to feel. Life is a collection of feelings, delineated by moments which in totality we loosely term as "experience". Each moment is precious and more importantly, eternal.

Bach

2011-12-11T22:48:00.002+08:00

On that note.

A weekend workout at the gym with the iPod spilling out Bach at full blast is really refreshing. Classical music or lyric-less music has a way of drowning everything out, filling the void with just enough to keep you going. I find that the older I get the more inundated I've become by words, especially words spoken without meaning; not quite lies but not much veracity either. And it seems this inundation infects my way of living too, to the point where my own words seem to lack meaning; Affectation. Of late, it has become so difficult to square the record that I rather drown everything out, even that soft prompting within.

Journey

2011-12-06T00:37:00.002+08:00

Corinthians

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I understood like a child, I thought like a child. But when I became a man, I put aside the things of a child. Now we see through a glass darkly. But then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know, even as I am known.

Random

2011-12-01T23:39:00.003+08:00

Random street corner, Beaune

A random dinner with good conversation, reminiscing on the feelings of a recent past. Randomness and spontaneity allows you to see beauty in the ordinary.

Merci

2011-11-22T23:14:00.005+08:00

Lights will guide you home.

The typical Bildungsroman novel tells the tale about the growing up or coming of age of a person looking for answers and experience. It usually involves a young man going out in the world to seek his fortune but also comes in more benign forms in recent adaptations with the protagonist looking for career, love, acceptance. Usually, in the beginning of the story there is an emotional loss or conflict which makes the protagonist leave on his journey. In a Bildungsroman novel, the goal is maturity and this is achieved gradually but with difficulty. The Bildungsroman novel is the epitome of the journey being more important than the destination. But to me the end is important too, as is knowing when the journey has come to an end. Literature is a reflection of life but unlike a Bildungsroman's novel such as Great Expectations, life doesn't allow us to re-write the end and acceptance of the ending and what it entails is perhaps as important and as difficult as the journey. The End.

'I have often thought of you', said Estella.
'Have you?'
'Of late, very often. There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth. But, since my duty has not been incompatible with the admission of that remembrance, I have given it a place in my heart.'
'You have always held your place in my heart,' I answered.
And we were silent again until she spoke.
'I little thought,' said Estella, 'that I should take leave of you in taking leave of this spot. I am very glad to do so.'
Glad to part again, Estella? To me parting is a painful thing. To me, the remembrance of our last parting has been ever mournful and painful.'
'But you said to me,' returned Estella, very earnestly, "God bless you, God forgive you!" And if you could say that to me then, you will not hesitate to say that to me now - now, when suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but I hope into a better shape. Be as considerate and good to me as you were , and tell me we are friends.'
'We are friends,' said I, rising and bending over her, as she rose from the bench.
'And will continue friends apart,' said Estella.
I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and as, the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so, the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expense of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her.
~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Damascus

2011-11-19T17:36:00.002+08:00

A friendly face in the crowd.

As more blood is shed in Syria we should not for a moment think that the Jasmine Revolution is done and dusted. Although we are unable to do much directly, the least we can do is to remain aware; Especially since it is the blood of civilians being shed, women and children. Hopefully, the blood being shed will enrich the ground for the next generation.

Free

2011-11-18T18:16:00.001+08:00

Leash on a tree

Some how this photo reminds me of the scenes at pilgrimage sites where pilgrims cured by their faith leave behind crutches and walking aids as a sign of gratitude or testimony. Both scenes are linked by a common theme of freedom. But what does it mean to be truly free? Some times it feels as of being free means not having to rely on any aid or being restraint. From this reasoning, it seems to be the case that freedom is derived from an absence of certain external factors rather than something intrinsic or innate.

Shore

2011-11-16T22:08:00.000+08:00

Pity us
By the sea
On the sands
So briefly
~Samuel Menashe

Dusk

2011-11-12T12:20:00.003+08:00

At Peace; At Peirce.

I find myself waking up early even on the weekends. In a way that is a good thing because I seem to get a lot done. But in spite of this budding sense of accomplishment, I still can't help asking why the restlessness. I like to think that it is borne out of the habit of working life, but I have my doubts. It has been a long time since I had a good sleep. On the topic of early starts, on my way to work one day last week, at what most would deem an ungodly hour, the sudden emptiness of work hit me like a tsunami. I enjoy my line of work and the challenges it throws at me but after all that is said and done I am left wanting, surely there must be more to all this, surely?

Arles

2011-11-10T23:48:00.000+08:00

Above the roof the sky is fair

Above the roof the sky is fair;
Blue, calm, serene.
A tree branch sways... The sky is fair;
Tranquil the scene.

A bell, in that sky, fills the air
With sweet content.
A bird, in that tree, fills the air
With sad lament.

My god, my god, out there... That's where
Real life is found.
A simple town... And everywhere,
Its gentle sound.

"What have you done, you, weeping there
Your endless tears?
Tell me, what have you done, you there,
With youth's best years?"

~Verlaine

Cracked Coffee Cups

2011-11-09T11:56:00.001+08:00

Cracked Coffee Cups

"Hey... I found this really cool coffee place."
"Oh really? Where?"
"Its a bit far but it has really good coffee and cool cups and saucers too!"
"That sounds nice! We should check it out one day!"

Hope has deceived more men than cunning; "one day", the prelude to a lover's promise, that is bound to be broken some day.

Choose

2011-10-28T22:04:00.001+08:00

Sasha and Ava, watching and waiting

Life is really a series of moments, strung together by time. Each moment a crossroad, a choice waiting to be made. Driving around in Ava with Sasha in the front seat on an early Friday morning felt like a luxury. I often tell myself that this could be my everyday, if I wanted it to be. Everything is within my control; we are defined by the choices we make.

"This was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a long moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on that memorable day."
~ Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Journey

2011-10-28T02:06:00.003+08:00

Liberation road

不怕寂寞
不靠承诺
才是自由

Vengence

2011-10-25T02:43:00.002+08:00

Romans 12:19

I cannot help but think that the formal training I and many others of my trade have received has imbued us with the notion that we can avoid blame or guilt though the use of carefully weighted words and omission of facts. This training appeals to our very selfish nature and for those of us who lack the moral strength to resist, it also blinds us to the fact that real people are being hurt by our intentions, if not even our deeds. Feelings and emotions are neither heads of liability nor capable of being remedied by an award of damages; They are what makes us human. For us who indulge in the umbra of our training, we spend life skirting around our fellow human beings, like a ballerina in a dance; feet on point, ever ready to leap away at the sight of looming liability. Perhaps this is the origins of my fondness for ballets and ballerinas.

Boat

2011-10-08T01:36:00.000+08:00

Far, Work, Mexico, Ocean.

So we meet again
after several years
several years of separation
Moving on, moving around
Till we spend this time
Chasing the other's tail

Giverny

2011-10-03T22:53:00.002+08:00

Chez Monet

I fell in love with Monet's Water Lilies when I first saw it at the National Gallery. I remember being enthralled by it; movement and stillness captured on a square of canvas. Walking the grounds of Giverny felt like walking through a Monet painting, but with the smell of flowers in bloom, birds chirping overhead and the bubbling brook beside. It was a feeling of calm and one can very readily see the hint of Japanese aestheticism that influenced Monet's work; Art is emotion without desire.

Streams and Bench

2011-09-25T16:15:00.003+08:00

Have a seat, the show's ongoing.

Life is more than just a stream of consciousness, or at least it should be. But sometimes it does feel like a looping movie, constantly bombarding us with the same messages and ideas. The biggest lie that modern society or this movie has managed to propagate is the notion that there is always something better, that we deserve a faster car, we need a nicer bag, we need a newer mobile, we can do with a better looking partner, and the list goes on; Deserving desire. Yet to reject these desires seems to be a rejection of modernity and life as we know it. Perhaps its because we didn't get it right the first time round. Maybe Marx was right in exhorting that mankind is doomed to its own ruin through desire. That a new social organization can only emerged once the hubris of desire has been vanquished. But is desire so wrong?

Cog

2011-09-24T10:02:00.004+08:00

Light and dark, round and straight, black and white.

For a while, I seem to have forgotten what it meant to shoot in black and white. Taking this photo has reminded me that colour can sometimes clutter and distract especially when we are seeking, order, symmetry and purpose. There must be a purpose in everything that we do, including a purpose for our very existence. Look around us and you will see that each and every item, organism or thing is designed with a purpose. The irony of man is that we can create for a purpose and discover the purpose of nature around us but we find it so difficult to distill our own purpose with some degree of certainty. Or at least I do. I like to think that man has a higher calling than just to create and consume. Perhaps this post is a spillover from the bouts of existentialist angst that I am prone to; The angst of being condemned to choose. I like to console myself with the thought that maybe my purpose is a collective purpose, like a cog in a machine, for which I have no sight of but encourages me to happily chug away. But if you give it some thought, even the cog does have its purpose within that of the machine and it is, as I've said, a mere fleeting consolation.

Anniversaire

2011-09-18T22:52:00.006+08:00

Always time for tea.

I am not really a big fan of birthdays at least not my own birthdays. I actually find more joy in celebrating a loved one's birthday than my own. Nevertheless, birthdays to me are important as they serve as a milestone to take stock of life, otherwise life would be merely a constant stream of consciousness, no more no less. This year's milestone marks my last year as a twenty-something and it shows. Of late, I have been shocked with increasing frequency by the realization that certain events or memories actually took place further back in time than I had originally supposed. With this phenomenon, I cannot help but ask myself on this birthday where all that time in between went. More importantly, I find myself struggling to to account for all that time that has passed; What do I have to show for it? I would cut myself some slack and narrow it down to the past three years rather than to ask myself what I have done with my life since birth but still, the inability to produce an answer is telling. All I can show are a fistful of fears, a smattering of scars and a tacit acceptance that I am no longer as invincible as I thought I was just a few years ago. Perhaps the only thing that I can take away from this year's milestone is a realization that the longer I live, the shorter life seems. Happy Birthday.

Freeze

2011-09-14T23:38:00.003+08:00

Desktop snapshot

When I was in the shower just a moment ago, I found myself muttering lines from an Auden poem, "In headaches and in worries, vaguely life leaks away... and time will have his fancy, tomorrow or today" and suddenly it dawned upon me that it is already midweek. Not surprisingly, I started thinking about my life leaking way, and how long it has been since I took a camera out for a walk and shoot or how many months have passed since I actually sat down with a nice magazine and a cup of coffee for an afternoon read or how it has been ages since I blogged an entry on a whim like what I am doing now. Soon enough, my thoughts wound up at the early birthday celebrations over the recent weekend. It was really nice to have a party even though I am not really much of a party person, being a bit of a fuddy-duddy and all. It was a really nice and warm feeling to have close friends around, people whom I hope that I mean something to; I am assuming that they showed up for me and not for the free alcohol. And perhaps this is what it really means to find meaning in life - it means discovering that you mean something to someone other than yourself.

Perspective

2011-09-13T00:20:00.000+08:00

Like John Cage's 4'33

Everything truly is a matter of perspective. Or rather, everything is really about how the mind chooses to perceive it. Sometimes, the fears in our heads appear to be much bigger than they really are in reality. But if only we gave it a chance to play out; often we are too afraid to take that chance. Paradise lost indeed.

'the mind is its own place and in itself,
can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'
~John Milton, Paradise Lost

Sit

2011-09-06T23:50:00.003+08:00

Sit. Contemplate. Pray?

I had always assumed that the act of "believing" was a cognitive function rather than an emotion or feeling. A quick flip of the dictionary this evening seems to suggest otherwise, with entries along the lines of "to have confidence or faith in the truth", "to have confidence in the assertions of a person" or "to have conviction that a person or thing is, has been, or will be engaged in a given action...". Although there was a saving grace entry which defined "believe" as "to suppose or assume; understand". Confidence, faith, conviction all do not sound like cognitive processes to me. Understand on the other hand requires comprehension and that is without doubt a purely cognitive process. Going by the dictionary score, I would think that "believe" suggests more emotion that cognition. I guess this does not matter very much when we are referring to "believing" or "believe" but what about when we are talking in terms of being a "believer". What does it mean to be a "believer"? Last night I was reminded of Aquinas' description of a right decision which is when the feeling and the will are aligned. Today I was reminder of Marcus Aurelius' Meditations Book 12. Tonight, I like to think that being a "believer" lies somewhere in between cognition and emotion. But who knows what new definitions tomorrow might bring.

2CV

2011-09-03T00:58:00.006+08:00

Roadside find

I have a soft spot for old mechanical items. I buy them knowing full well that they may at any moment die on me. Perhaps this affection is borne out of a rebellion against our consumerist society - the trend that churns out soul-less products designed to completely fall apart at a pre-determined time, compelling us to readily discard that item for a newer, better, slicker replacement. I often wonder whether our consumption habits are indicative of how we would approach other aspects of our lives such as our relationships, jobs and even self-worth. I like to think that in the face of a tide of consumerism, it is ever important that we learn to preserve, cherish and fix. But maybe I am just a rebel without a cause.

Tomar

2011-08-29T23:58:00.000+08:00

I remember this place.
But what good is a memory?
But memories make for dreams.
In our world of tangibles?

Babel

2011-08-27T16:29:00.003+08:00

Conversation, coffee and cake.

I recently learnt that each of us possesses the most powerful and dangerous trait that natural selection has ever devised, a piece of neuro-audio technology for re-wiring other people's minds; Language. Apparently, it allows us to implant a thought from our mind to anther's without performing surgery. And I think this is very true for as I close my eyes, I can still hear the soft words uttered by a former lover, the dismissive words of a music teacher, the encouraging words of parents and words of the many that I have interacted with, words which have shaped me into who or perhaps what I am today. Yes, I too have been re-wired.

South

2011-08-21T09:57:00.001+08:00

'I am as constant as the North Star, constant in the dark.'

I understand things change
But acceptance is always challenging.
I search for lasting joy in this changing world;
But all I seem to find is darkness.

Hope

2011-08-14T23:44:00.004+08:00

Bend, with the wind.

Like tall grass we sway,
with the winds of choice.
But at the heart of it all,
the human condition,
is a longing for a presence,
the silent desire for a communion;
that keeps us rooted.

Twilight

2011-08-11T23:42:00.003+08:00

In between
life's extremes;
fear and hope,
I like to think
there is love.

Memories

2011-08-09T17:46:00.003+08:00

This used to be my playground.

I have always found the concept of Home somewhat elastic. Home is where the heart is but, more importantly, home is where the memories were made. This year's National Day photo was taken at my neighborhood park, where many fond memories were made. I have fond memories of playing football with the boys, kicking the ball into the house you see in the background, kicking the ball at girls who walked by, playing for the team that has to attack the goal up slope and sitting around after a football game talking, laughing until the sun set. I also have slightly more grown up memories of getting drunk in this park after a house party and falling asleep on one of the park benches. This is also the park where we came to for a puff, or where we just needed a place to hang out and talk about the major woes of our lives, which usually meant girlfriend problems. So many memories were made in this little patch of green. So many more memories were made in this little island I call home. Sure, there are other places I have called home, but none of them were as homely as this. Home is where the memories are made and like every household, home may not always be perfect. But we keep working at it because it made us who we are today, for better or worse. And now as I sit in front of my computer, decked in red and white banging out this post, I can't help but feel a sense of belonging. Happy Birthday Singapore!

Birthday

2011-08-06T22:24:00.000+08:00

A very happy birthday boy and his loot

This is a long overdue post and in a way, it is ironic that this post took so long. One year has gone by so quickly and I wonder what I have done with all that time. Perhaps nothing much. Sometimes, life can seem a long constant blur and it is bright moments like these that brings meaning to life. I really like marking the passage of time with birthdays of loved ones; a much better alternative to milestones like quarter closing or financial year ends.

More photos of the birthday boy here!

Sasha

2011-08-04T23:19:00.002+08:00

The newest member of the family.

Apart from work, the latest addition to the family has been keeping me very busy. But she is such a joy to have around the house.

Bavarian

2011-07-30T15:27:00.003+08:00

A repository of memories.

Its funny how inanimate objects seem to take on a life of their own, developing their own character as the years go by. She was no more than a machine when I first collected her. I often wonder if the development of a character is a by-product of repeated human interaction. I was very sad to let this car go. It was the car that saw me through significant moments of my life like graduation and call. Within her confines, so many tears were shed, so many laughs were shared.

Chairs

2011-07-25T23:53:00.001+08:00

Looking back, a dream being made.

Its official
Today is "time flies so quickly" day
Just think
What were you doing this time last year
Or 5 years ago
Time passes
When you are not looking

Vanitas

2011-07-23T10:25:00.004+08:00

Still, life.

The Dutch Masters painted world renowned still life paintings to the tune of Memento Mori, remember your mortality, as a reminder of the brevity of life. This week, I had a very real reminder on the frailty of life. Moments like these force you to pause to take stock of your life, making you wonder what you are doing with your time on earth. Are we living or are we merely alive?

Bloodshed

2011-07-16T11:41:00.005+08:00

Whats the word on the street?

Kadam, Douma, Idlib, Daraa, Qabun, suburbs of Damascus where there has been blood shed and lives lost. Blood shed in the middle east, especially to those places where I've visited, always troubles me. We all know that the Assads and the Syrian state machinery are very apt at quashing revolts. I just wonder how much of it is still intact and whether Bashar Assad has the stomach for it. I hope not. As a techie, I am heartened by the role that tech and telco played in the Arab Spring uprising. Tech is a liberator but can it withstand brute force? The answer will come from the streets; Listen close.

Stoic

2011-07-13T23:34:00.003+08:00

Je ne veux pas travailler

Scenes of Paris always remind me of Sartre and to some extent Camus. Sartre believed that in human beings alone existence precedes essence, we are and we are free before we are anything else. Amidst the chaos, this comes as a timely reminder.

Still

2011-07-12T23:04:00.002+08:00

Learn to be still.

The past two weeks have gone by so quickly that it is almost frightening. Where did all that time go? The experience has been part unsettling, part exciting. Its hard to imagine that on this day, exactly two weeks ago I was lying by the beach with a book, listening to the crashing waves and being lulled to sleep by the ocean breeze. What a stark contrast. But I guess that is what life is all about, change and contrast; that is of course until one learns to be still.

d'Orsay

2011-06-26T23:44:00.000+08:00

Circling.

The sun sets,
the day breaks
and everything
is new.

Luxembourg

2011-06-25T16:11:00.002+08:00

Une soiree dans les Jardins du Luxembourg

If these chairs could speak,
I wonder what tales they would tell;
Eavesdropping on the conversations
of those who come to rest on them.

Precious

2011-06-24T17:37:00.000+08:00

Sky and Church

The sky, something so dear to the Impressionist.

Street

2011-06-22T00:44:00.000+08:00

Street scene

All you see is where else you could be when you're at home.
Out on the streets are so many possibilities to not be alone.

Beaune

2011-06-21T23:17:00.003+08:00

When I'm feeling blue.

I've always had a soft spot for sky blue, perhaps because it is an ever changing blue. Maybe one day, I will realize the reason why, like how Chagall had been inspired by the reflection of blue from a Russian Orthodox Church through his window as a child. One day, I too will have my revelation.

Bayeux

2011-06-20T17:58:00.002+08:00

她想要的那片天空？

忘记你
不如
忘记自己

Ciel

2011-06-19T17:43:00.001+08:00

Van Gogh's sky; Arles.

In Arles, it is the sky that takes centre stage. Even the Roman Colosseum and the colourful old buildings pale in comparison.

Persepolis

2011-06-18T23:39:00.003+08:00

Guide amused by a guidebook.

I went for the Abbas exhibition at the National Museum today and it brought back memories of my travels in Iran. This photo was taken after my visit to Persepolis, at a rather empty road side diner where the guide, driver and myself stopped for lunch. My driver was very amused by my guidebook and chuckled to himself as he flipped the pages and read some of the photo captions. The whole scene was very lighthearted with my veiled guide smiling gently throughout. I remember finding it very amusing that my guide found my guidebook laughable and also a tad worrying given that I had to rely on it for the remainder of my trip. Its trivial moments like this, moments of spontaneity that make a travel memorable.

Reflection

2011-06-15T14:48:00.006+08:00

Self Portrait #3

I am no more than a shadow.
Or a burning torch and stairways leading to dark recesses,
with light creeping in from window panes,
blacken by layers of filth accumulated over the years;
A composite.

Meursault

2011-06-13T23:56:00.001+08:00

The ever changing sky and the constant sun.

Yesterday, I was told that to live is to change.

Zahmen

2011-06-09T22:00:00.000+08:00

Touch, feel.

You learn a lot after a couple of days without mobile reception or internet connection. You learn a lot about yourself and how to be still. You learn that you have forgotten how it is like to be alone; and you soon realize that no longer craving to be alone is now a good thing. We all go through different phases and subtly change to suit each new phase of life. This is of course, a natural process but it is also a slow process such that one rarely experiences the change taking place. It is only discovered in retrospect. But I digress. The highlight of the trip was oddly enough, listening to the Kings of Convenience on the TGV to Frankfurt whilst watching the countryside whiz by. It was a moment of peace, a familiar peace perhaps reminiscent of my long train rides through the Danish countryside with the same soundtrack. I am a sucker for train journeys. I am also a sucker for the countryside and as much as I look like a city boy, I would gladly trade it all for the country. Now, as I close my eyes I can still feel the warm sun on my face as I walked through the German countryside on a long evening walk. I miss the feel of the tall wild grass brushing against my palm as I walked with my hand held out, yearning for contact. Perhaps I did not digress after all.

Fan

2011-05-16T12:26:00.006+08:00

I am a fan.

I am an admirer of light. I like how the morning sun shines into my room, casting its rays on ordinary implements and transforming them into seemingly different objects. Dull steel now sparkles and whirling plastic seems to take on a new dimension. But the essence of the object remains unchanged, even though I now perceive it to be different; in a different light. I am particularly fond of this "self dialectics" yet ever mindful that I should not follow in the footsteps of the Sophist, taking viewpoints for the sake of it or for vanity. And the same can be said for the travels I am about to embark on. See you in 3 weeks.

Memento

2011-05-14T16:16:00.002+08:00

Moments, in a stream of Consciousness.

A reminder that I was there and that I feature in a stream of consciousness brought about by the many moments that I have experienced during my time on earth. Gosia Wlodarczak, the artist responsible for this work of art at the Singapore Biennale calls this "frost drawings, freezing specific moments into lines that coexist and interact with the constantly shifting world outside." Some day, I tell myself, I will make sense of all this and I am sure that all my moments that are now a stream of lines and gibberish will one day make sense. Even those moments that I wish to forget.

Cups

2011-05-13T00:58:00.000+08:00

Here are my cups Godpa!

I spent the afternoon with Etienne and I am now aching all over from the bending, squatting, carrying, chasing, watching and playing. But when he flashes you a cheeky smile, somehow it all seems worthwhile. He has an amazing amount of energy and I can only imagine that it must be exhausting doing this day in day out, Kudos to all the Moms out there! He is becoming more and more aware of his surroundings and is easily distracted by new sounds and sights. More photos here and look out for his determination in reaching for his toys under the sofa!

Present

2011-05-12T00:24:00.000+08:00

Life in a Dead City

Sometimes, I can't believe that I was there. That I walked the same path as the early Christians did when this city was alive. And so I need photos like this to remind me that I was present. This photo was taken at the dead city of Serjilla, north of Aleppo in Syria. Serjilla dates back to about the year 450 or so, during the time of Christianity in Syria. The city prospered from cultivating grapes and olives as is evidenced by the numerous presses that remain in the city. What amazed me was that so many of the structures were still standing, testament to the good ole roman know how and the roman arch.

More photos from St Simeon and the Dead Cities here.

Pulse

2011-05-10T23:39:00.001+08:00

Early morning Street Scene, a long walk.

This is a snap shot of a street corner near Bab Toma in the old city of Damascus. It was taken early in the morning and I was amazed to find life on the street so early. The uprising in Syria has made me glad that I managed to visit the country before the turmoil and sad at the heavy handed response of the Syrian government. I had expected the younger Assad to be more progressive. But I guess he is still not bigger than the institution his father installed. Is there a parallel to be drawn? In Syria, the pulse of the country should be taken at street corners like these, where the diagnosis will most definitely be a severe case of restlessness brought about by years of oppression.

More photos of Syrians and Lebanese here.

Conversations

2011-05-09T23:43:00.004+08:00

In conversation, still.

Man is a vain creature, leaving his imprint wherever he goes; the most obvious being what we call architecture and of course deforestation. But man also leaves his imprints in more subtle ways, in ways that reflect his or her character on an individual level. Such imprints are neither monumental nor permanent, but simply evident in how he arranges his environment.

Forward

2011-05-08T23:37:00.002+08:00

Looking forward, a virtue of only the young?

I just realised that it has been a very long time since my last post on this blog. I must have been rather busy for the days seemed to have just whizzed by; but as I sit here, I just can't seem to account for all that time. Perhaps I was caught up with the transition to this new phase of my life. Maybe I was just caught up in the whole election fever that has swept the country. I am particularly pleased with the election results given that the opposition has now managed to win a GRC. I dare say that this election really swung to the beat of the young, namely those between 21-35 and I cannot help but draw a parallel to the Jasmine Revolution that has swept across the Arab world. Like these young Arab boys in Syria, I too am looking forward to the changes that this new milestone in my country's parliamentary history will bring.

Feet

2011-04-25T23:09:00.002+08:00

Sunshine on Leith

Today, I left work at 6pm, like most other Singaporeans. By the time I got home, the sun was still up and I managed to take a little stroll in the garden with Liz. After the garden tour, I had dinner and even managed to watch a DVD. Feeling a tad restless after the DVD, I checked Ava's fluids and and tinkered around her engine bay before taking her out for a nice long drive. Simple pleasures. Its days like this that make me wonder why we do what we do. Is it the thrill of the chase? Is it to keep up with our peers? Is it because we truly enjoy it?

月球

2011-04-20T23:49:00.002+08:00

O let not time deceive you

当你说太聪明往往还是会寂寞
我笑着倾听孤单终结后的寂寞

Alcobaca

2011-04-19T23:37:00.001+08:00

Now I lay me down to sleep

The ancients believed that understanding takes place on four levels, the literal, the metaphorical, the political and the mystical. Dante believed that one cannot proceed to the other levels without first grasping the literal. But what does it mean to have a firm grasps of the literal?

Corner

2011-04-18T23:58:00.004+08:00

"The man stood in the corner."

And immediately your mind starts to actualize the text by contributing a sense of the man's age, size, skin colour, clothing, facial appearance and maybe even emotions. Your mind might even start to actualize the corner in question and the way he stood. This process of concretization allows a text to be read in a multitude of ways and probably evidences how reading a book stimulates the brain more than watching a movie of the same title. It is innately human to want to fill in the gaps, a man in the corner, snippets of a telephone conversation, a nervous twitch or a fleeting change of the conversation topic.

Contact

2011-04-17T21:58:00.005+08:00

Remnants,
Of a weekend very well spent.

Essence

2011-04-15T23:20:00.002+08:00

Deus Caritas Est

I am Love and I have wrath, justice, jealousy, kindness.
What do we make of this? "I" as used here is simply a linguistic category; it doesn't look like me, it doesn't walk like me, it doesn't register how thirsty I am. In short, it can never capture the fullness of me. Yet it is suppose to be me. Is this an example of the imperfection of language in describing what truly is? That we have to rely on some intangible, pre-programmed conception of what is? And where did this conception come from? Is it innate or derived?

Reader

2011-04-14T23:57:00.002+08:00

How he is often right.

Often I think that his idea of what we should do is wrong, and my idea is right. Yet I know that he has often been right before, when I was wrong. And so I let him make his wrong decision, telling myself, though I can't believe it, that his wrong decision may actually be right. And then later it turns out, as it often has before, that his decision was the right one, after all. Or, rather, his decision was still wrong, but wrong for circumstances different from the circumstances as they actually were, while it was right for circumstances I clearly did not understand.
~Lydia Davis, How He Is Often Right

Umayyad

2011-04-10T18:17:00.002+08:00

And let they feet millenniums hence be set in midst of knowledge.

Instead of tourists and pilgrims, the great courtyard of the Umayyad mosque in Damascus once held as many scribes and philosophers, hungry for knowledge, thirsting for light. The Qur'anic emphasis on ilm, the pursuit of knowledge, is perhaps the reason why the modern world has knowledge of Western Philosophy. This 'urge to know' spurred Muslim scribes to scour for the texts of Aristotle, Plato, Socrates and transcribing them into bound volumes destined for great centres of learning like Al-Azhar in Cairo. Without this contribution, Western Philosophy as we know it today would have been lost and the world, a poorer place. The Islam that I read about and that I experience I travel is so different from the sensationalized version of Islam and Islamic Jihad. What seems like an absolutist form of belief upon deeper scrutiny reveals itself to be an enlightened and all encompassing faith. Islam seems to abhor all kinds of monopoly, of truth, power, wealth, knowledge and authoritarianism. Most of its general principles are designed to break down monopolies and subvert unquestioning authority. For even belief in Islam itself cannot go unqualified and blind, unquestioning faith is not appreciated.

天空

2011-04-04T01:22:00.000+08:00

之间的空间

我想说
谁听我说
我真的爱错

Trio

2011-04-03T03:16:00.000+08:00

Happy Birthday

I can't believe a year has whizzed by just like that. And what a year it has been. 12 months of excitement, disappointment, frustration and joy. In a way, my life seems to have mirrored the path taken by Arbite over the past year. Without launching into a legalistic argument of how this would constitute grounds for the personification of a corporate entity, I would like to say that both Arbite and I are looking forward to a smoother 2011-2012. We both have new challenges ahead and we both need to know what we want in life; and get it. Both of us could never have made it this far, without the help, support and love of our friends and family. Thank you, you know who you are. We are here only because of you.

Reflections

2011-04-01T01:26:00.000+08:00

Looming or sidelined?

This photo is a composite of reflections and sub-images and in a way reflects the complexity of politics in the middle east. As things seem to worsen in Syria, I like many others in the world hoped that President Assad would take this opportunity to put into effect some positive reforms. But it seems like it is not meant to be.

Windows

2011-03-26T11:51:00.001+08:00

To hold infinity in the palm of your hand

Now I know why they say the eyes are the windows to the soul; To be able to find vast truths in the smallest of things.
To hold eternity in an hour.

Cutie

2011-03-25T11:24:00.002+08:00

Etienne & Emma

He is fascinated by her;
A life-sized-movable-stuff-toy.
She is wary of him;
An ear-grabbing-squealing-curious-baby.

Dimashq

2011-03-21T00:10:00.005+08:00

Early morning shadows

I remember this morning. I remember pulling the heavy iron handle on the door that separated the hotel from the city. As I stepped out into the alley I realized that the whole city was quiet. It was still early. Standing in the dusty alley, I silently mouthed "Damascus" and as I did, I felt the weight of the word on my lips; the weight of civilizations. "Damascus", the very name that has rested on the lips of the multitude that came before me. A name that is as old as history. And I recall feeling a sense of awe and disbelief, for I could hardly believe that I was in this ancient city I had heard and read so much about. Soon, I was walking down the alley where I made a right turn at the end and saw the first shadow of the morning, on a wall that had seen a thousand sunrises. So this is what greatness means, being able to withstand the passage of time.

Lantern

2011-03-17T23:41:00.004+08:00

can you feel
the weight of your ancestors
and their expectations
hanging

Lock

2011-03-16T23:56:00.000+08:00

set me free
let me feel
what its like
to be wanted
as i am

Ruienlust

2011-03-13T14:04:00.002+08:00

Apamea, on the Orontes

I walked down the colonnaded avenue, feeling the wind on my face as it rushed across the plains. I felt the crushing loneliness of the landscape and my heart instantly yearned for some form of human contact. But there was none. As I looked up, I saw pedestals built into the columns where statues of great men from before used to stand, watching over the lesser who pass below them. Now the statutes are gone, displaced by wild plants and birds, probably encased in a museum where they are being watched over instead. Time has a way of turning things on its head. I knew I was in search of something, perhaps an answer. Hopeful that those that came before had left me a key to decipher the vagaries of modernity. But now I know I hoped in vain. For there is nothing left but ruins, ruined.

Bench

2011-03-11T23:35:00.001+08:00

Yet another empty bench.

I have always felt comfortable with death and far too often I find myself seeking solace amongst the departed. Its not that I have suicidal tendencies. I am just envious of the serenity that the departed have found. No more choices, no more decisions. Once again, I find myself back at this bench, with the names of those that have gone in glory ascribed around me; This time alone. I let out an existentialist sigh; Sartre would have been proud. For I know too well that to choose is to be free and to choose is to live.

Wonder

2011-03-09T23:14:00.000+08:00

Wide eyed wanderer

When I look at Etienne play, I cannot help but think that we are made to wonder and wander.

Curiosity

2011-03-06T23:48:00.003+08:00

Contentment. For now, the wrapper will suffice.

One day, baby Etienne will realize that having the ice-cream is a much sweeter deal than just having the wrapper. But for now, he is contented to play with the shiny crinkly wrapper while mommy chomps away on the ice-cream. I like spending long afternoons with the godson, watching him learn about the world and himself bit by bit. To him, everything is new and should be taken on with relish, his actions driven by sheer curiosity. It is refreshing to see such unadulterated emotions and most unfortunate that we lose quite a fair bit of that as we grow older; Our penchant for curiosity being superseded by habit and fear, our true emotions tempered by the need for appearances. Watching baby Etienne seems to breathe new life into this world or at least my world. And perhaps that is what the next generation is supposed to be, a breath of fresh air that renews the earth, recharging the old with hope that we are not all that lost; For we once were.

Hopper

2011-03-05T11:00:00.002+08:00

Excursion into philosophy

how come nobody told me
all throughout history
the loneliest people
were the ones who always spoke the truth

Ciel

2011-03-01T00:02:00.000+08:00

世界是圆的
我想我们会再见面

Absurdist

2011-02-28T23:37:00.002+08:00

Vladimir or Estragon?

What do you do when you keep singing the same song?
Take it from the top again.

Dismembered

2011-02-27T23:34:00.003+08:00

Clinging on.

I like watching the droplets of water cling to the tip of my fingers. I particularly like the moment just before the droplet falls. The skin is a fascinating organ, waterproof, self healing and breathable. I recently read that within a span of 7 years, every single cell of our body will be replaced. Are we still the same person? Who then are we? What is it that pulls us all together?

Shadows

2011-02-25T00:52:00.001+08:00

Long Shadows.

We are not, strictly speaking, our past for we have left that behind. Yet it continues to trail us like a shadow, only much less visible and far more intrusive. There is an invisible force about the past, like how we can see the stars and the planets but can't see what holds them apart or what draws them together.

Stop

2011-02-21T23:18:00.002+08:00

这城市太过拥挤
满座的爱情电影
我用力推不开回忆