Exhortation to love

The other day I saw fliers being pasted all around the suburb I frequent in Sydney.  They were for someone who had gone missing.  As much as it was sad that someone had indeed gone missing, and the circumstances behind it must be quite unfortunate, it was obvious that the person who had gone missing was loved and missed.

The same cannot be said for everyone though, and I cannot help but reflect that it is possibly the worst thing in the world to be unloved and uncared for, to be shunned by others, to feel alone and isolated.  I think I would rather be that person who had gone missing, than someone whose existence people know of and care little for.

Of course, with my exercise-induced endorphin high, I couldn't help but put a positive spin to the melancholy thought.  I realised then that love really does cover everything.  You can be in the worst situation - suffering, diseased, in dire circumstances, but if you are loved and in a supporting environment, somehow it seems more bearable.  Conversely, you can have everything, yet have not love, and the world becomes an empty and torturous place indeed.

If you believe in God, the benevolent love and wisdom of a creator, can help us through troubling times.  We might possibly comfort ourselves in the knowledge that the shit that happens to us, happens for a purpose.  Perhaps, we may be strengthened by the experience, and some good things are bound to come of the bad.  

But more than this, we creatures of such a creator have in us the capacity to love each other, in a tangible way, for a tangible physical realm.  So every opportunity we get, let us be there for one another, and love one another, so our sorrows might seem that little bit easier to bear.

As an aside, in Christianity, the foremost command after loving God is loving others.  Cognitively, this for me is what makes Christianity such a valid fundamental belief.  Jesus Christ realising God's love for us by dying for us divinely substantiates the Christian dogma.  

Monopolar mania

Once long ago, I sat on my toilet bowl back in Chip Bee Gardens and thought about the greatest things that God created.  I came to the conclusion that two of the greatest things God created were 1) the most basic unit of matter, 2) water.

I continue to be fascinated with these, and as my scientific understanding grows, so does my sense of wonderment.  From atoms to sub-atomic particles, to the gradual melding of our disparate concepts of energy and particle in physics, the recent interesting advancements in physics suggest that the most basic unit of matter is not dots, or atoms, but string.  Our best analogy or understanding of the wave-particle duality of matter is that of a piece of string that indicates the probable positions of a particle's trajectory.  

As for water, as I began to understand the intricacies of hydrogen-bonding, my appreciation of the molecule reached new depths.  The way the specific properties of the elements hydrogen and oxygen result in dipole formation, that results in bonding that leads to water's unique and anomalous properties is nothing short of miraculous in its simple ingenious logic.

Today, I found something that fused my two pet topics (quantum physics and water).  Forget bipolar magnetism, monopoles are the next big thing in physics, and it seems dreadfully exciting.  It's based on the way chaotic way in which certain molecules are organised when in crystal lattice.

Monopoles are found in a substance known as spin ice (holmium titanate), which organises itself in a way that is configurationally similar to ice due to the properties of holomium, titanium and oxygen.  

Holmium ions align their spins more than twice as readily as even iron does, but in holmium titanate, the titanium and oxygen atoms form a tight tetrahedral lattice with holmium ions at the corners (see diagram). Thus corralled, the ions cannot align their spins all in one direction, so plump for the next best thing: two spins pointing inwards to the centre of the tetrahedron, and two pointing out. "

It's an unhappy arrangement. The spins don't know where to go," says Oleg Tchernyshyov of Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, who studies similar instances of magnetic frustration.

The spin arrangement in holmium titanate mirrors the way that hydrogen ions are arranged in water ice, so Harris and Bramwell coined the term "spin ice" to describe their compound.

 - Newscientist.com

Biblical 32"-24"-32"

Today during bible study we were sharing about our recent quiet time experiences, and I started rambling on about one of the verses that I hold dear to me, the Proverbs 31:10-31. It's one of my impossible ambitions - to become a Proverbs 31 woman. (That, and to be ravishingly beautiful. Yes, I know it's a cliche.)

Anyway, while trying to share why it means so much to me, I realised I couldn't say much. I began to get self-conscious and embarrassed and think about how time was running short and ended up not saying anything at all, really. But coming back, I decided to find out more about what other, more authoritative voices had to say about the verses.

This resource divides the biblical ideal of a woman into the different roles she fulfills for ease of study - her position as a mother, a wife, a neighbour and so on. This one does a line-by-line analysis, as well as an overall situation of its context.

As for the ravishing beauty, well, there's a history to that. I don't mean the earthly Liv Tyler kind of beauty, although I truly wouldn't mind a bit of that, as I really can't say much of my god-given assets. I mean the heavenly Sarah Smith kind of beauty you read about in The Great Divorce (C.S. Lewis). Suffice to say that it is and always will be, a distant, misty-eyed dream for the life to come.

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

- Audrey Hepburn

Dear reader,

Somehow, I find it's when I've got a million things to do that blogging suddenly becomes the one thing I want to do.  I could be finishing my 2000-word report, finding out what I need to do today, reviewing the work I've learnt over the past few weeks, replying e-mails, finding out how to do internet banking and so much more.  But instead, I'm here, thinking about life, love and laughter.

I realise there's so much to be thankful for this year, particularly in Australia.  I've been blessed with good friends, a good school, good housing, and the lovely Australian weather.  Somehow, everything is so relaxed, even while rushing a paper you haven't started till nine o'clock the night before.  

Looking at the cards people gave me before I left, and the extra special one I received after I came, brings me especial gladness.  I know I'm loved, I know there is much to love; that gives me the strength to go on even when I go existentialist.

It's funny though, that coming to Australia has made me more Singaporean.  I come to realise the differences between my culture and other peoples', and although I tend to adapt to other people, I can't help but feel a certain pride for my own culture.  As much as Sydney's cosmopolitan and multicultural, its societies largely cohabit in a kind of isolation from each other.  They are distinct and separate as pigeonholes in a post office.  Although Singapore isn't exactly perfectly blended, there is a certain appreciation for each other's culture, and an evolution of a fused culture that is, I suppose rather cheesily, uniquely Singaporean.

Another thing that has happened is that I find that I can express myself through dance more easily here.  Perhaps this is because, unlike in Singapore where I have my own dance studio, there's no real place I can dance completely comfortably on my own, so I have to make any space I dance in a place that I can dance comfortably in.  I increasingly find the need to take solace in art, which is something I know I count on to soothe my ruffles.  I miss playing the piano though.

I realised on my run the other day that sometimes we need words for more than just expressing ourselves to other people.  If you are reading this, mum, I run only during the day or with a friend.  It's very safe and the traffic is definitely less than in Singapore.  We need them for ourselves to understand ourselves.  It hit me that I've been spending all this time trying to find the words to describe and process what has happened in my life, because of some precept that if I do, I will somehow be better able to understand my past and be more forward-looking.  Words and the ability to use them have a power that I've long lusted after, but am only beginning to understand.  

Some days I would give anything for a night back in Singapore, to dance or just spend time with people whom I can pour my heart out to.  It's so easy back home.

Praying for you,

writer.

Right here, write now.

Today I was on the bus, pondering life's mysteries (see, life is not so very different in another country), when I suddenly realised why I write, why I chronicle my thoughts and emotions. Simply put, it's because memories of these things aren't very lasting. Feelings are ephemeral, fading with the light of each new morning, and very soon what you want to remember is forgotten.

Sometimes, it's better this way. To live in the here and now, and be focused on what I need to do - many times I wish I could be more like this, rather than living with my head in some obscure cumulonimbus of its own. Better not to dwell in the past, especially if it's painful or bittersweet.

But as it turns out, writing is precisely what we turn to to capture our reveries, our caprices, our very souls. Reading a book by a master of the language lifts us up to greater heights, or acts as a kind of catharsis to our own repressed emotion. Writing for yourself is no different. You don't have to be particularly eloquent. A few choice words suffice to trigger a torrent of recollection.

It's like mother says - if you think you'll forget it, write it down.

Lonely, lovely night

Rounding the corner,
jasmine suspended,
delicate and heavy -
one fears to break the atmosphere
with an offending breath.

Still I press one foot ahead of another,
head set on going home,
heart ruffling itself
like a bird too fat to fly
away into the darkness.

Still I slow my gait,
and my head looks up in spite of itself
at the glitter
a careless child strew in the dark velvet
that cloaks us by night.

And every night of every day of this week I find myself wondering, will this be the last night I will see the stars
from here.

Steaming the window pane with a sigh
on an early morning sleepless night
(it's still dark),
I promise myself I will return to this
place that I have grown to love.

forming a poem (it doesn't want to end)

verses hanging in the air
whirls of words waiting
to be strung together

so many beads on a string -
yet what do they matter
such very transient things
are these(that are
impossible to break apart
once they have been joined)

I feel them blowing
gently in my ear
as they coalesce: amalgamated
thought and feeling
inappropriate to express

so I will let them fill me
with abandonment for now,
before the prosiac world whisks
the wor[ds away -
a hazy memory of a lazy day
a secret happiness
a deeply buried sorrow
and to dance, dance, dance with no tomorrow...

I wish I were a useful person.

I wish I were more practical. All the stuff I enjoy doing are so useless, like dancing and music and drawing. Why can't I enjoy organising my life, or being knowledgeable about computers and cars and things?

Catch this if you can

Today I watched a really good movie. This past year or so I've watched a spate of movies, some good, some not so good, and some pretty darn good. But Doubt was really surprisingly good.

I suppose I should have anticipated it, with Meryl Streep acting in it. But the only reason why I watched it, at least at first, was because the person I was watching it with wanted to watch it. I mean, you'd think a movie about nuns and monks in the 1960s would have little relevance in today's context.

Yet the challenge of living a moral life is just the same for a person of the cloth as it is for a normal person, and the movie peels away those layers of the habit to reveal the humanity in both priest and straitlaced nun.

Beyond the good acting, the direction itself blew me away, and it was not just the motif of wind that did the trick. Although translating from a play to the screen might seem easy, the finesse of direction was palpable. Almost every scene was very deliberately and delicately orchestrated, without being cliched or overly arthouse or sentimental.

I won't belabour you with a bad pun on the movie's name, but I do encourage you to watch Doubt if you feel like a thought-provoking, aesthetically- and dramatically- satisfying movie, that's not in Chinese (the other movie to catch is Red Cliff).

More philosophy tests

Which philosopher are you? Your Result: W.v.O. Quine / Late Wittgenstein   There is no provable absolute truth. The way you see things is dependant on your language. Truths exist only within a language, and change as the language does. --This quiz was made by S. A-Lerer.
Sartre/Camus (late existentialists)
Nietzsche
Early Wittgenstein / Positivists
Immanuel Kant
Aristotle
Plato (strict rationalists)
Which philosopher are you? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz