Saturday, 12 May 2018

Ritual

Open your eyes.

As a breath enters your nostrils, fills your body and leaves your lungs, give thanks to the Creator for your soul, able yet to inhale and exhale.

Give thanks for yet another day laid at your feet; this gift of possibility and potential, another chance to strive a little further.

Open the curtains and windows. Take in whatever light and air there is.

Remind yourself how small you are in this world, but remind yourself too that small things can make a big difference.

Inhale. Exhale. Stretch.

Put on some music. Tune your heartbeat to the rhythm of the awakening world. There is music everywhere, if we choose to listen.

Listen. To your heart and your head. Listen without judgment or regret, without the desire to control or direct.

Leave the distractions of commentary and imagery alone for now. This is time to be still and silent before the deluge of information and stimulation and noise attack you later (as it surely will).

Move. Perform a sun salutation, or ten. A push-up, or twenty. Run the block, or a few miles. Your body has rested; it needs warming up.

As you move, take note you that your heart and soul is housed in a body: your body. It is fallible, limited. But it is faithful and beautiful. It is yours alone. Do not take it for granted as you wander through this realm. Eat, drink, nourish it.

Read, at least a line or two. From the morning funnies. Or the Holy Scriptures.

Speak: to God, to yourself, to the universe. Ask: for guidance, for protection, for courage, for strength.

And now, you are ready. To meet the rest of your day, and the rest of your life.

Friday, 11 May 2018

Saudade Season

You're as tall as the tree
Sophisticated, you see
The tinsel in truth is tack
The gifts prove their own lack
Of insight into your standing now.

Yesterday's bells ring
Today's melancholy sting
Come then crowd of unwelcome ties
Another dinner to tell more lies?
Asides and clever lines for your brow.

Under the bough, no more surprises
Another lost year chastises
Too much wine, you yawn
Where could the magic have gone?
Resigned that it's lost, you bow

Goodnight youth, goodnight now.

(October 2014)

Affogato

To pour the whole shot
In one shot
Without spilling a drop
Was always a skill of yours

At first the globe floats in defiance
Refusing to succumb
But already revealing canyons
Flooded with rivers of black-brown

Soon the stirring
Melts as it mixes
The ice and heat
Embracing each other

Between forgetting
And bittersweet fantasy
I taste long gone
Weekends

Now all is left
Is a line of beige
On clear glass
And an aftertaste

Of smoke and caramel

(September 2012)

Crumpled

Unravel me
Untie the knots
Only you know
How to untie
Iron out the creases
On the crumpled sheets
Of my bundled mind
Salve my bruise
Rub off my scar
Kiss away the sting
On my broken body
My empty hands
Fill them
My blistered feet
Heal them
Speak to me
And in speaking
Give me hope to reply
Unfurl my sails
Let me dare
To dream
To fly

With you

(August 2012)

Sunday, 3 April 2016

Why Do We Work So Hard? by Ryan Avent

A friend once commented to me: Milestones fade into years.

Here's an article that really got me thinking, from the Economist. It speaks of work, life, and the lines between the two.

Friday, 12 February 2016

Mang Guo

I wrote in my previous post that a script I wrote was being made into a short film. It is finally out. I hope you enjoy it. Constructive feedback is most welcome.

Saturday, 31 October 2015

Mango(steens)

Five years ago, I was part of a devised play called Lost & Found at The Actor's Studio (when it was still at Lot 10), directed by Joe Hasham and Gavin Yap.

It was where I met Justin Wong, who not long after the play ended said he wanted to make a piece I wrote for the play into a short movie.

He's finally made it, and I had a chance to be part of the rehearsal and shoot. It was certainly a little surreal.

Unfortunately, the title fruit was out of season when we started shooting, so we substituted it with mangoes instead. #closeenough

It seems my creative writing with fruits in their titles seem to be going places.

Watch this space guys!

Friday, 30 October 2015

Moonfruit

So sometime ago, my short story "Moonfruit" was read on my favourite radio station: BFM 89.9.

You can find the podcast here.

I hope you like it!

Saturday, 25 July 2015

"You can never really heal from being an experiment."
My sister

Thursday, 1 January 2015

Note to Self for 2015

Treasure time. Treasure now.  
Simplify (but not too much). 
Dance (even if it's just hopping to the car). 
Read more, listen more, see more. 
Fear less, worry less, criticise less. 
React slowly, help quickly. 
Give abundantly, without expectation. 
Act to change, don't whine. 
Keep learning. 
Keep moving. 
Keep improving. 
Create, create, create. 
Serve, serve, serve. 
Count blessings. 
Love more completely, more fearlessly, more selflessly, always. 

Happy New Year everyone!

Friday, 4 July 2014

The Prince and the City

The Prince gazed out the window
He could not, would not, be moved
By the reluctance so poorly hidden
In the words of the Council. 

I need not listen to a Council of Fools! 
Was it not clear as the summer sky? 
A child would have heard my words
And comprehended better than they.

Snub out the light, and the moths will no longer come!
Take away the honey, and the flies will disappear!
Then the glory of the City will be revealed threefold
And those afar will yearn with envy
For our streets cleared of the jetsam
Our roads free from flotsam
Our temples cleansed of  fallen souls.

His swift decree by sundown 
Left no doubt between the lines
This City will no longer cover
Those who must not be sheltered
And he who lights a candle
Shall too be sent into the darkness.

And so it was, the glory of the city
So sought by the Prince
Never shone, never glittered
As each lamp and candle and fire 
Was put away and blown out.

In the bitter cold the Prince learnt
That the glow of the city
Had come not from the ivory towers he built
But the love in the hearts of its people.

Thursday, 20 March 2014

Cartographer's Lament

By the same stars we navigated,
We intertwined our paths
And layered our maps
Like the blankets we shared.

I marked the miles
As he measured the hills,
New streets we drew with borrowed lines
We didn't know could turn
Overdue.

I knew right from his left,
My landmarks were his,
Plotting the fate
Our constellations had designed.

The light in the horizon
Covered cracks on the road,
Perhaps I ignored the warning
That at times even stars 
Don't stay their course.

He kept silent miles before
He took the sudden turn,
The edges could not bear
The pull of divergent routes:
It tore our atlas in two.

Left with fragments
Of a once familiar map,
I go down wrong paths often,
Blank spots aplenty and
Lampposts too few.

The routes I take
Are now disconcerting,
Part familiar, part foreign,
Half still the same, half all new.

My landscape has been relaid,
The scale is all askew,
The directions erased,
Buildings wrecked and
The once bright horizon 
Now wavering lines of gray.

I pass the old clocktower;
The minute hand lags,
The library is half crumbling, 
And the town hall melting
Into the square,
Now not quite a square.

I am a stranger in my own town,
Half-hidden faces pass in view,
I fear I may see him at the turn
And fear that I never will.