23rd Wedding Anniversary

I believe that listening is definitely the most important pre-requisite to learning. So it was with much caution that I embarked on FB and other online sources rife with differences of opinion. It is a mad, mad world with so many madmen, some making light of serious situations, others making great fuss over nothing and yet others sweeping followers with visually moving images and slogans, whether truths or falsehoods, in the name of knowledge-empowerment. Then it is up to the individual to process all of them in the hope of forming your own sensible opinion. I don't believe that anyone can settle without having any opinion at all because then, what is the whole point of it if not to learn something valuable in making sense of his surroundings, unless one is an impartial voyeur, I guess? How does anyone cope with the onslaught of all these opinion-sharing? What are the real agendas behind all these social-networking frenzy?

This stage of the world is where my marriage has arrived at after 23 years, the marriage itself having undergone two or three stages. In the beginning we faced only the onslaught of each other's idiosyncrasies and our awkwardness in adjusting to a partnership, 24 hrs a day, 7 days of the week for the rest of our years together. Then, it was a very neurotic relationship struggling between a "me" and "you" mindsets in order to settle down to a comfortable "us", which would take at least 5 difficult more years. With familiarity came more patience rewarded with rare moments of tolerance which slowly and painfully blossomed into appreciation of each others' differences.. As the children grew, so did we. Sometimes it would take an innocent reaction from one of our children to mend our egoes. Miraculously we ended up respecting and accepting, even laughing at and expecting those differences among all of us. It helped a lot having loving children, close kins, friends and supportive observers around. Indeed my marriage of 23 years has been Blessed as we stuck through crisis after crisis of self-discovery, accommodating and giving each other our much-needed breathing spaces.

Before the internet, I shunned technology and gadgets prefering cavemen tools above modernity. You'd even catch me using my teeth to untie or unwrap stuff or use the pistle to knock in a nail. My husband on the other hand embraced technology and has been an IT geek eversince it began. We both lived through data processing using the floppy data and operating system disks, dogmatrix printer and the first Apple Macintosh at the teaching institute we were both at. However, it was he who saw the need for buying pagers, then his first mobile in the late 90s and it did not stop there. I was fighting a losing battle with technology as my husband became more engrossed in building a career around the technological advancement facing the world, more than in the modes of raising our family. Somehow or other, my relationship with my husband was marked by every landmark technological advancement.

He wooed me while helping me buy and manage my first home PC. Then we got married after we were newly full-fledged teachers each finding our place in the  frontline of a knowledge-based industry where familiarity of the latest teaching tools was almost mandatory. Then we parted interests around his first laptop and degree when I succumbed to my stubbornness in the way of upbringing my boys, away from the maddening upgrading materialistic world. I quit my job and retreated into full-time motherhood and homemaker determined to raise my boys with my bare hands, as far as possible, with what nature can richly provide.

I wanted to escape the need for luxuries including tekkie stuff which were very costly in those days. l remember the pain we felt when his first laptop costing him $6000 wasstolen in campus. We were surviving on loans then as he was part of the first batch of Singapore Malay language teachers doing an overseas first degree, who did not receive any grants except a study loan and unpaid teaching leave. I limited myself to the basic necessities like using public telling machines or opening and replying emails, hoping  my offsprings would learn the important and timeless values of religion and making good with god's gifts to them, and not relying on material things I was so insistent that I became almost like an extreme fundamentalist with my poor boys suffering an almost military-like home schooling; daily routines all spelled out on a weekly time-table with every possible enriching activity measured down to the minute. They were expected to follow every instrucion and complete every task according to the time-table. It was sunthinkable to lounge around in school uniform as soon as they reached home. It was straight to the bath, prayer and then lunch. Even playtime was an organised and well-planned activity with differentiated educational objectives.
It was scary and close to child abuse.

However, it toned down by my third son with more adjustments to their different  learning needs and styles. Looking back, my first two, being only 19 months apart, benefitted in some ways, I believe, partly due to good intentions. By age 4 and 2, both memoriesed more than 20 daily prayers, my second learning to read by age 3 years picking up the skill while I was teaching his brother. So wwith Ilman, my third, I just let him tag me along to classes, hoping to teach by example. I involved him in every possible activity as he was tiny, very observant and seemed to thrive on personal space for self discovery which I regretfully denied my second 1st and 2nd. The obvious outcome were, that the elder boys turned out more inclined to do brazen exploration outside the home such as in school, to satisfy their curiosity despite poor consequences. Ilman on the other hand prefered to observe and ask  for safer options trusting authority with easy acceptance.

My husband all these while let things run their course and seemed perfectly happy with whatever system which would make the family happy and well-provided for. I'm so grateful to him for letting me burn from overzealosness and letting me fizzled down to a more settled person at my own terms. It took me some amount of giving in to their differences, but feeling satisfied that they enjoy learning immensely. I guess I've settled down to be like an anchor to the four men of my life who seem to have their own directions. No matter how far and different theirs are from mine, I feel enriched by them and have taken enough interest as to learn the geeky or sporty or musical terminologies that would make me able to make contact and find a meaningful co-existence among us.

So as I entered my 23rd year of marriage, I'm embracing my blissful life managing a home full of the paraphernalia of tekkie geeks (all 4 men), the Malay Language and Literature academian( hubby) the wannabe bassist and sound engineer (2nd son) the climber and slacklining enthusiast (1st son) the rubrics and Lego enthusiast (3rd son) the text books and unfiled notes of a science student(3rd) on top of my painting materials and artworks, not forgetting the sewing and baking stuff on hold.

Yes my house is an eternal mess which I now embrace with much endearment as both my OCD-like cleaning urges and love for involvement and learning can be satisfied. Alhamdulillah.

Ramblings of a Minimalist Devotee

Whether accidentally or by pure destiny, I woke up today at 4.30 am, as usual ahead of my alarm. And as usual, Ali awoke, both of us squinting to check the time, then both reaching out for a hug. After a few seconds, we parted ways, me to whudhu and him, back to sleep.

My first thoughts always, "Ya Allah, forgive me, my husband, my children, my parents, my whole family, everyone. Ya Allah, forgive us, Ya Allah, never enough devotion to You, never up to any good, but always hopeful, Ya Allah, Ya Allah...".

In those crucial first thoughts, out of regularity, the momentum could backfire and I'd find myself sometimes, lying down again, "... forgive, Ya Alllah, never enough devotion to You, never up to any good... sleepy, Ya Allah...too sleepy... Forgive..." Then, that's that; gone in a negligent thought. Both Ali and me would awake in a start, "6.30! Ya Allah!" Then we'd be wide awake rushing for toilet and solat. I would then be full of regret and shame for daring to aspire for Paradise or the title of Mukmin or a true Devotee Well-Pleased by Allah and with Allah. The futility of being a negligent devotee as well as an idealist or perfectionist make one self-deprecating and pessimistic. So I hope at least to make the best of the situation as I am paradoxically hopeful too. 

If I slept right, on the other hand, I'd wake up right, with my first thoughts leading to the next, more pro-active mullings like," Ya Allah, haven't done that last single witr, Ya Allah, need you so much in my life, Ya Allah, please Guide me, your much pathetic servant, your undeserving, ever-negligent devotee, please, Ya Allah Guide me..." Then, miracle of miracles, I'd actually find myself standing and wanting to wash and brush my teeth and so forth.

Being the very practical girl, I'd account for the workable factors leading to the second scenario. Somehow the formula isn't 100% feasible as the top of the list is discipline, which is very hard to come by. Where does anyone get this thing, anyway? It's almost as elusive as a regimented lifestyle, which requires a dictator-like leadership for any type of discipline to manifest itself. And being practical and a wife to a very easy-going, generous and self-indulgent husband, my only option is placing Allah as my one and only dictator. He is just as elusive as the quality of discipline required, but putting two and two together, whatever that expression means, as it equals four, I guess it makes absolute sense to say, that Allah, my dictator, is my ultimate source of discipline. I'm sure it befits Allah and pleases Him to be everyone's dictator, by the nature of Him being God Almighty and all. So, being very pleased with myself for having solved the biggest mystery of success, I decided to take this solution and turn my life around, also noting happily that this being the season of hijrah, this, what's that p word, this p....... Enlightenment, is so aptly timed. (Epiphany, actually... close enough)

Then again, it's not that simple. Haven't I been there and done that? It's the same invisible carrot-stick issue of my life. I'd still be on my own devices, especially brain power, which I have very little confidence in, being a very practical girl who knows her limitations well. What is that which we call concentration power or the ability to focus? Where does anyone get that anyway? It most certainly is not evident in most of my pupils and they have more brain cells than me, for I am much older, much much older. I might be falling into a philosophical trap now if I go into the ghost in the machine debate. 

So maybe my capacity to focus has no link whatsover to how much brain cells I have. So maybe I actually can do anything I put my mind to. Well, looks like I have found the second solution to the mystery of success: my brains, my will-power or if you prefer, self-motivation. This means I'm nowhere beyond square one with my first problem of how to get started, as it has become a chicken or the egg issue now or worse, the usual hits and misses cycle of my life.

I said that the carrot-stick I want is invisible.  It is to be able to accomplish what is right upon the first will to do it and sticking by, no matter what happens and reaping the outcomes, whatever they may be. Being very practical and all, why would I want a visible carrot-stick seeing the futility of the way of getting it? For that matter, in case you are wondering, how do I know there is an invisible carrot at the end of an invisible stick in the first place? Yes, pardon the limitations of the poor English expression, or my poor English. 

Obviously, I am nearer facing death, and actually, not dying from any physical afflictions but from the torture of an inescapable fate of being in that moment between the last breath and what comes after that. Whaat? That's how I'm inclined to think about, so what else can I do? Yes, I have thought about why not any other preoccupations, but being a very practical girl, I decided to make the best of it, so there. Are there any better ideas? No, I am not interested in big visible carrots lying around for easy picking, since I'm on the topic, as they are what they are- mere material things that whether nourishing or not, will end up in the sewers or separated from you. So if I wanted to live for the moment, I'd rather live for that moment when I am subjected to such an unknown, vulnerable and lonely existence.

Furthermore, since I am a very practical girl, woman, old woman, I would have thought of the best possible choices life has to offer. So to cut it short, I have decided that the best can never come from me, nor people, nor much less material things. So having the misfortune of being highly idealistic on top of being practical, I have concluded not to rely on myself, people or material things for satisfaction or success, which equal, I think based on observations, happiness.

Am I happy? Yes, very much so. Perhaps too happy for comfort. Is that even logical? Yes, that is not a self-contradicting statement. I am so happy that seeing other people suffer makes me unhappy, or maybe irked. That needs more analysis, but not here.

Let us just leave it as that. Im happy only when a state of utopia exists, and I know it will not happen anywhere while I am alive or as long as people live, which is what I meant by "..too happy for comfort". However, being a devotee requires one to be happy in whatever circumstance. I guess the right definition of happiness will put everything into perspective. Is being happy the objective of life? I hope everyone assumes, as I do that to live means to have and to serve a purpose. The problem with us is we have a record for either having too many purposes or a lack of it and worse, denying the need for purpose. 

For matters to be less complicating, seek out the most obvious truth. The easiest position to be is that of a minimalist devotee. As an individual thinker, I've realised from day one the most obvious fact- that I am in constant need of some thing or other; necessities for a sane existence like air, water and answers. Notice that my existence has to be sane, because existence alone may not matter at all without the pre-requisite of meaning and purpose which only a sane existence can verify. So clearly, insane and lesser idiots are not subjected to serving any particular purpose besides fulfilling their instinctive existence, as they are devoid of this necessary veryfying faculty. However, to digress a little, for the rest who are thinkers, the existence of these special individuals really matter, just as any equation in the universe does. 

Of course claiming to be a devotee, even a minimalist one, I assume that every equation matters. I do not need to prove the existence of the Devoted Being, whether yours is a Madonna or a pink elephant or mine being Allah. The fact that I am part of an equation logically proves the Existence of the Devoted. First of all, there is the business of all these equations staring at you from the moment of existence. Who can escape being a child of a mother, or being small before growing bigger or hungry if not full? 

Teaching is not a career but a calling

Another half a year done and yet another half more to go. That's how I've set the pace of my life, bit by bit, as and when I can take it, I do it. I can't seem to do any better than that. What does that make me, non-commital? Whatever. I don't mind. I know I'm different and this is the best i can give of myself.

To me, work is a necessity whenever money and a sense of self-worth are needed. I go out at a time my money runs out and show the world what good work I'm capable of. Before I run dry of my work capacities, I step down and rewind with my savings in hand. I'm satisfied that I'v my own savings and disposable income and yet still able to give back to society, well mostly 1st half of the year anyway. The rest of it, the second half, is mine, for me to reflect, to rejuvenate, reaccess my life and make more plans if necessary. I used to wonder why I prefer this to long-term work commitments. All I can say is that I'm happier this way as I remember how I fizzled away pushing myself to breakdowns when I started out full-time. Now, I keep looking forward to teaching everytime and that enthusiasm helps me. It might just meet with bitter responses from other teachers in the school i go to, seeing me smile so much I mean. I got envious comments and vibes before which made me cry. But I'm used to it. So when it's nearing the end of the teaching stint, I'll always look forward to my sewing and baking projects, longer prayers, reading and writing sessions. I'm so grateful I'm able to do this since my husband is so supportive and pampers me so.

I can safely say, I want nothing more from this world. I wish to help put the wrongs right, but I doubt I can do any better than praying hard for change. Looking at the playing field, I just feel so tired with all the tried and tested ways of the best of the best out there. My heart goes out to the youth and struggling individuals thrown into the spots and paths they are in. I was lucky to be thrown into an array of delectable and comfortable choices from which I've chosen my path.

How do you stop others from making wrong choices and taking up false pursuits? If no one envies the way u live and you have no authority, then on the surface you have no impact or influence on others at all. But funny thing is, even when some people see how right, right is, the first thing they do is deny and make an about-turn or worse, throw dirt into it to make it look dirty.. well it depends really on the wherebouts and when this particular good is denied, who, especially who the do-gooder is.. for me, the do-gooder must have direct relations with the less-inclined for it to matter. Say, if a stranger totally throws off some do-gooder, well it's his right and that do-gooder should mind his own business. Still, I believe that the do-gooder's effort will never go wasted, even if it seems wasted then. Someday, somehow, it will come round as with everything else. There is nothing conjured that disappears into nothingness. That's why disappearing acts are nothing but illusions. With physics and the laws of nature, nothing escapes the cycle of existence, and we're not going into the meaning of reincarnation here.

But for one to be effective in stopping others or making others do things right, one needs to be directly linked to them, either through kinship, jurisdiction, friendship and of course it helps if you're their mother, teacher or counsellor. Even then, not only is it effective, it is imperative that this link between the one with effective power to change others, to be realised and made equipped to actually make the change. That's why I believe the world will not change unless everyone in his own jurisdiction, take charge to empower themselves to bring about that necessary change that he alone has the means to do or directly is able to affect that change. It seems easier said than done, but no one can do it alone and it can't be done overnight. So here I am spouting my philosophies as if the world cares, disguised as some kind of teaching expert when I'm as flawed and weak as the next regular guy. But sincerely speaking, I've seen the stuff of life that all seasoned mothers have seen and understood. One important lesson all mothers will want to share is that always pick up your own mess before you can point other peoples' mess to them, or at least pick yours up as you point, then you'll look pretty convincing. Then you start from there suggesting ways to organise their life better. It helps if you have fantastic credentials and abilities so people know you know what you're about and look up to you. So it's really sad if you see bright and lucky people go the wrong way and you can't do anything because they're beyond your jurisdiction. Will you find a way to get in or walk away cos they're not your problem? Or maybe we should all take action, like start with a prayer for good change, smile and take it from there bit by bit. But first, we must care. Caring is one thing everyone can overdo right? Not in physical but more spiritual or mental or more like a thought. I don't believe anyone can claim abuse from over-caring unless the actions of the care-giver actually translated into physical or mental abuse. What I meant by overdoing caring to the point of harmlessness and even good is to constantly think for the good of others more than yourself. More on this soon..

26 February 2010, Mom's n Beloved Prophet's B'day

My mom turned 69 on this special day, 12 Rabiulawal, on top of it being a Friday, a day of blessings, insyaAllah. To me, a day is a day, whether it being blessed or not depends on your actions on that particular day. I want to be blessed everyday of my existence so I should feel special if I know I've done something to deserve that. And nothing else, no birthdays nor anniversaries or festive day can matter to me except I do special things to make it special. Yes I believe special days call for special attention, but sadly, I observe that most people stop there. Other days matter too, don't they? I prefer to do the same special things every day so every day becomes special. Special means attended to with the utmost care and not different from the rest. Like to some people, "special people" means they have disabilities and stand out like a sore thumb. They are special because they require the utmost care and specified attention from care-givers. Every day.
However, Allah knows us better and provides us with specific days in the year for us to do special things. Now these are truly special days and occasions that call for our specific observations, like hajj. Through the prophet's practices, we learn what to observe and what to avoid. It was clear that he encouraged regularity in good observances every day to the point that in Ramadhan, the blessed night of a thousand months was not revealed. Through Allah's mercy He consoles us with the fact that it is better for us to do a little good every day rather than much in one day and none in the rest.
So I did visit Mom and joined my sisters at our regular Friday evening meetings. I did not give her a b'day present though not on the basis of this principle, but due to my usual failings, lack of time and resources. It suits the occasion. No one should go all out to observe something the prophet himself did not. On the other hand, I'd rather give her something because I want to and have the means to not when I'm expected to. However, Allah expects me to please my parents, and i so want to please Him. So on most occasions I do please my parents on account of Allah and I believe this type of sincerity is the best and easiest workable, everyday observance of all.

New home

Two years on from the time we applied for Australian PR. There's been no news from them so instead of heading there, we headed off to Chua Chu Kang. It's a quieter place except for the occasional rumbling of the mrt trains. I love the different noises n smells. Back in Teban it was intolerable Malay live band almost every weekend at the multi-purpose hall and the mindless banging and clanging of the installed percussions at the playground. I still cannot understand the rationale behind this particular fixture. Every other fitness equipment and recreation fixtures have been vandalised anyway, including the newly installed step-up fixture. Perhaps the authorities wanted to provide the children with an outlet to knock and bang away on things other than public property that cannot take such onslaught. Well, I leave the puzzle to the residents of Teban. May they attain the peace of mind that comes from reason as well as the sensations that make up living in their neighbourhood. Otherwise, I pray their tolerance levels stay high. My sympathies to the latter.
As for me, it's the occasional evening trumpeter practising familiar tunes, dogs barking at night and the mrt sounds which are more acceptable as they lend a feeling of drive and purpose in our new existence. The smells are pleasanter too, that of detergent n freshly laundered clothes. It's the lack of conveniences I was so used to in Teban that I have to get used to now. With my trusty bike, I think I can. I'm feeling the firming of my thigh muscles already, so the inconveniences are actually 1 more good. I'm pressured to be a good neighbour too as the ones i meet are friendlier as they smile and greet you. I can't forget the ugly muslims I face back in Teban. One lady stood out because she kept pretending I'm invisible or at least she tried by frowning so hard her young pretty face looked older than my own old and ugly one. Maybe she is just mental, so being handicapped, is excused. Why can't i forget her? Well, for one, it's because I try to rationalise her actions so much. One time, her kindy son threw up in the lift on my corner despite me trying to run into the furthest n safest spot there. All she did was frown harder and inched her son and herself away from the vomit and hurried out as if I offended her or something. I still believe it's really about me and how I should improve on my social graces and LEARN from others. Teban, teban.. I should actually miss the place. There's really so much more to learn and I've lots to thank Teban for. I practically grew up there and what I am is very much a result of that environment too.

me, nenen and sharini

I'm blogging, although I've decided many years ago that I was scared of the internet and I should just stay away just in case it might get me into trouble. I'm not somebody of consequence who must leave a mark as proof of existence but the thought of leaving some mark have crossed my mind. What if I die tomorrow, misunderstood and totally in vain or lost my precious mind and all trace of my self worth? Surely my life has been worthwhile. Really I'm nobody important who would want to be heard nor remembered for anything. But these questions about clarifying my own doubts about myself or getting oneself understood or exposed under scrutiny have haunted me eversince I started penning my diary entries at 13. Even back then I toyed with the idea that my entries would be read someday, and even if by me alone, I'd like to read something nice to reassure myself for having lived a decent life. But that was a tangible pen and paper thing. It was like entering into awareness, an assertion of my identity as a living person. Sadly through many years of mishandling and effects of more than 30 years, my precious book is all brittle and decaying. This, however was not the main reason for the pupose of a blog entry. No matter how private, obscure and detached I am, I cannot ignore my strong passion for expression. So many intimate thoughts but no one but Allah and me to know. It is a paradox of sorts when you think you are sure of yourself yet who is this person you think you knew? On the other hand with the satisfaction of owning your thoughts and believing that Allah also does, why should you want to share them with people and not keep them to yourself? Will keeping secrets other than the scandalous sorts, do any good or harm? Does being a tale teller mean that person is indulging in frivolity? What if one has a message like the one sent out to space as a note on our existence. Does that count for meaningfulness? It took lots of courage to be honest especially in writing or stepping out into public existence as in a journal. Every written line had to be stringently checked and rechecked for errors and especially hints of unpleasantness on my part. I'd make sure I was not a bad person and if I find myself having been so, I'd make analyses of why I said or did something and what I could have done better. My self correcting habits ensured that I became a judgemental person mostly harsh towards myself, although sometimes others too. Again with self correction, one was bound to find fault in finding fault with others. So the hatred slowly progressed to forgiveness or acceptance, thankfully. I guess in writing your thoughts, you have no other choice but to attempt to be honest, sincere, open-minded and forgiving or face the consequences. I don't know whether keeping a diary is meant to be so but it was that way for me. And in so doing, i wonder whether I've truly lost myself along the way and turned out to be one pretentious person keeping up fronts? I'm not even sure who the real me is. But for sure, this blog was prompted by internet discussion groups where yesterday I found myself or my bits of writing plagiarised. I thought that got extinct with transparency and accountability in the real and virtual world. I was neither flattered nor angered. Just puzzled. Why in the world would anybody want to steal thoughts for their blog entries? Maybe he wasn't aware of the ethics and implied self-denigration and I was curious to know why. Whatever his intention, I felt puzzled that there is a stranger who purposely wanted to delete my existence. That called out to my own self worth and so I had to register as a blogger to make contact with him possible. He has to know that I know and maybe he could just learn to acknowledge authenticity by using references in future. This is such a basic Islamic habit I took for granted everybody practised it. Maybe I've been so lost and forgotten that it's time for me to make a little noise at least for myself to hear and be pacified with it. This sounds so vain and unnecessary to me that I'm back at being unsure.

One thing for sure I've reached this far on since my first diary entry at 13. Got a degree, a husband and 3 boys and having my life sit prettily just the way I wanted it to. I've done the travelling , done the paper and career chase, done the spiritual enrichment, a little suffering and sprinkle of hardship here and there, but nothing to compare with the great dramas and tragedies of the real world. I'm so grateful. I'm so contented. I'm so without want. Except maybe wanting so much to be of servitude to some cause that appeals to me. But I'm tied to my role as wife and mother and nothing more than an occasional teacher, chocolate pound cake and steamed fruit cake maker, dabbler in tailoring almost anything required with a little success, a wannabe dutiful daughter and daughter in-law. Nothing more than a cowardly dreamer thinking that the world could use any part of me to win just causes. Well for starters, I have a charity event this Friday which is the only one marked in my week besides family routines and obligations. I could start there. But I doubt I'm even useful there. Quilting blankets for charity? My only claim to quilting is owning a lovely old quilt bought at a discount probably crafted in a sweat shop somewhere in China many years ago. Or maybe the little applique projects for my boys I threw away, incomplete. Always down sewing headscarves and burqas, pillows and crotcheing trimmings, and others. Never enough courage, time nor discipline to do much else.

Except reading. at the moment it's Paul Grieve's Islam: faith, history and politics. A complete introduction. Never have I come across something so thorough, so perfectly close to what I have been trying to accomplish but can never even hope to accomplish due to my many disabilities. And thankfully now there is no need. There has been this void all my searching life for a defence on my faith. a defence that is encumbent on at least one muslim, and yet the burden has been seemingly lifted by a non-muslim. However much he claims, his neutrality is suspect. In any case, May Allah reward him for at least this monumental effort which greatly covers o many things I needed to understand about Islam.