I just had a brief conversation with Minam Rinpoche and learnt:

1. The situation in Yushu has stabilised but the greatest concern now is the coming winter. In two months or so the weather is going to turn cold again. As we know, the winter there is harsh and temperatures is sub zero. Without proper shelter, it is going to be a huge challenge for the poor folks there.

2. Unreported but the Yushu area was recently struck by cyclone. Apparently, about 200 were killed.

3. Along with the rain, the folks there have to contend with the strong winds. Out in the open, it is tough.

4. Come winter, tents will not be able to hold out the cold. It is difficult to know how best to deal with the situation. Hopefully, we can do something. Life is indeed a struggle there. Each will have to fend for themselves but again, hopefully, Minam Rinpoche and others will be able to come up with something. From sources, he has worked tirelessly to do the best he can.

It is difficult for us to imagine how harsh cold can be. Speaking from expereinces of brief exposures to cold, it is terrible. For Yushu, where food is inadequate, facilities non-existent, the suffering is compounded.

This morning, during that routine, I got thinking. The way one looks at a person makes a world of a difference. For example, seeing a person as a spouse and loving that same person is entirely different.

When a person is a spouse, there are expectations. Got to be this tall or that pretty. Got to measure up. Got to be successful. Doesn’t snore and throw out the rubbish. Works a full time job and still cooks dinner, washes the dishes too. Afford a maid and the holidays twice a year as well.

Being a spouse exposes one to all sorts of dangers. And limitations as well. Not to forget the rules of behavior, unilateral rules naturally. Every misstep is glared at and toted up in that mental book that never gets erased. You may not see it but it’s there.

To love someone is entirely different. Nothing has changed, at least on the outside. The love of our life still snores the same way and the rubbish is still feeding the cockroaches and the ants. To love someone makes us see all the sweet and wonderful things about them. We see their kindness, their concern for us, their love. They are angels and their light glows every time we bring them to mind.

When we love someone, we want the best for them. For to us, they are the most delicate thing in the world. We fear for them, we want to protect them. We feel their every hurt and our hearts break when they are in pain. We will give everything and anything to take their pain away. We want them to be happy.

I think that when someone becomes a spouse, there is this ‘taking’. When we love someone, we ‘give’. There lies the difference. And to give is to love. And vice versa. And I believe this same thinking applies to whether a child is a naughty incorrigible rascal or … is that an old troublesome grumble or the mother who nursed to what we are today?

Two weeks after the earthquake brought great suffering to the folks of Yushu, the coconut tree in my garden burst forth flowers in all its glory.

Being  in a rather pensive mood then, I took this photograph and made a silent prayer that just as this tree springs new life, may the Yushu people too rise from the destruction with renewed vigour and hope. Just as the bees swarm these coconut flowers, may the kindness and generosity of humanity overflow.

I received this and enjoyed the read so I thought of sharing it here. But as you read, please do not forget the people of Yushu. Every small contribution go some way. Visit http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/group.php?gid=114671665218930 to find out more.

Here goes my share for today:

In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls’ School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.
>
> Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.
>
> ‘Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-vs-West struggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,’said Amanda, who likes drama, history and          literature and wants to become a lawyer and a politician.
>
> Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a ‘powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences’……..
>
> The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.
>
> Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000,
> said Britain’s Royal Commonwealth Society, which has been organising the competition since 1883.
>
> Singaporeans also came in second in the 14 to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s. Other winners included students from Australia,Canada and South Africa .
>
>
> ============================================================
>
> What the Modern Woman Wants…  By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen
>
> The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as
> it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on
> her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind.  She was not used to
> such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was
> careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers,
> her daughter had warned her not to dirty it,  ‘Fingerprints show very
> clearly on white, Ma.’
>
> Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek
> silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely
> understand. ‘Finance”Liquidation’, ‘Assets’ ‘Investments’… Her voice was crisp
> and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it.
>
> Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television.
> She was speaking in an American accent.
>
> The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.  ‘I absolutely cannot have this.  We have to sell!’  Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
>
>
> ‘I can’t DEAL with this anymore!’ she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat.  The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.
>
> ‘Sorry, Ma,’ she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin.  ‘I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems.’
>
> The old lady nodded knowingly.  Her daughter was big and important.
>
> Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking.  Her mother’s wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.
>
> The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.
>
> ‘Hello, Beatrice!  Yes, this is Elaine.’ Elaine!?  The old woman cringed. I didn’t name her ‘Elaine’.  She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for ‘networking’, Chinese ones being easily forgotten.
>
> ‘Oh no, I can’t see you for lunch today.  I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.’
>
> Ancient Relic.  The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother’s silence meant she did not comprehend.
>
> ‘Yes, I know!  My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!’ The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence.
>
> The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard.  It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple’s roof.  The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall.
>
> Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother’s side.
>
> ‘Ma, I’ll wait outside.  I have an important phone call to make,’ she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.
>
> The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.
>
> Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her.  She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want.  She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man.  Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says.  She lives the perfect life.  You
> have given her everything except happiness.  I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.
>
> What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me.  She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me.  She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother.  It is my fault.
>
> The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes.
>
> She bowed once more.  The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years.  When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.
>
> Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl.  Her husband had ticked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.
>
> Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed  that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted.
>
> Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man.  She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become.  A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to.  A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men.  When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.  She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood.
>
> She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu, old fashioned…. She wanted her mother to be ‘modern’, a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.
>
> Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that.  The Gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl’s roots and now she stood faceless with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.
>
> Her daughter had forgotten her mother’s value.  Her wants were so ephemeral, that of a modern woman. Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.
>
> The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth, everything she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman but she would be forgotten once the windblows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.
>
> The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter now that she had looked out of the temple gates. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry.  Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there – down.
>
> The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in from of the alter.  Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods.  How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid?  But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life.
>
> Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity.  All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty souless shell at the alter.
>
> The old woman watched the joss stick.  The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing.
>
> Modern woman nowadays, the old lady signed in resignation, as she bowed to the east obne final time to end her ritual.  Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder whey they cannot find it.
>
> Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey poweder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter’s face.
>
> An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sown the seeds of happiness.
>
> They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not to fast as she had done before.
>
> Ma, Bee Choo finally said. “I don’t know how to put this.  Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay us seven million for it.  We decided we’d prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead.  We found a perfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move into our apartment, we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves….”
>
>        The old woman nodded knowingly.  Bee Choo swallowed hard.  “We’d
> get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out – but once
> the maid is gone, there won’t be anyone to look after you.  You will be
> awfully lonely at home and, besides that the apartment is rather small.
> There won’t be space.  We thought about it for a long time, and we
> decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home.  There’s one
> near Hougang -it’s a Christian home and a very nice one.”
>
>        The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.  I”ve been there, the
> matron is willing to take you in.  It’s beautiful with gardens and lots
> of old people to keep you company!  Hardly have time for you, you’d be
> happier there.” ” You’d be happier there, really.” her daughter repeated
> as if to affirm herself.
>
> This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offering to cling tightly to, she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her soulders sag and her fingers trace the white seat.
>
> Ma, her daughter asked, seaching the rear view window for her mother. “Is everything okay?
>
> What had to be done, had to be done. “Yes” she said firmly, louder than she intended, ‘if it will make you happy,’ she added more quitely.
>
> It’s for you, Ma! You will be happier there.  You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.’ Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.
>
> ‘I knew everything would be fine’  Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier.  She had thought about it.  It seemed the only hinderance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now.  She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; money, status, career, love, power and now freedom without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her
> down……
>
> Yes she was free. Her phone butted urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. “Stock 10% increase”
>
> Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her and while searching for the meaning of life in the 1 uminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible and she did not see her in tears.
>
> ****************************************************************************************
>
> So fellow friends, save enough for your old age and don’t try to
> rely on your children. Your responsibility is to give them the necessary
> education/training and life after that is theirs.  If they chose to look
> after you, it is a bonus and thank the gods for it……
>

It is an honour to know you, friends who have responded so swiftly and with such generosity and compassion to those in need in the aftermath of the Yushu Earthquake.

The earth of Yushu quaked on 14/4/10 and left thousands dead and many more homeless and traumatised. The relief you provided through the funds you compiled have saved lifes and help many more through the freezing cold as they pick up the pieces.

Why donate? You could very easily have excused yourself by saying that there are many more in your backyard whom your $10 could benefit. But you see that it is in times of need that the small become giants. Granted, kindness knows no definition but at this hour you see that like those swept away in a storm, those nearest the precipice are in the direst need of help.

It is indeed my honor to know you! Thousands may not know your face but if they do, they would have felt honored too. Not that you care.

Yushu - A Candle of Hope

Yesterday,  we sent the second transmission of money for the Yushu Earthquake Relief to reach Minam Rinpoche who will manage the fund. It is a huge show of generosity from friends across the globe. I believe this money will help ease the difficulties of the people of Yushu and help them get back on their feet. Rebuilding can then continue on from there.

There are so many things going on in the head figuring out how to be more effective and how to help. Sometimes, it is helplessness. If anyone has any ideas on how to raise funds, supply aid or anything useful, please give me a shout. Who knows? It may turn out to be a great idea!

Here’s one link to visit for news or updates

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=114671665218930

As the world moves on, there are many people who still care. Here are a two links :

www.rokpa-yushu-relief.org

http://yushuearthquakerelief.com/

And here is a first person account:

http://www.phayul.com/News/article.aspx?id=27154&t=1&c=10

On Monday we will be sending the second tranche of relief money over. Once again thanks to all friends who have contributed!

Have a good weekend and count our blessings. For me, it will be the biting cold and the broken of Yushu Qinghai.

As the flames burn

As the carrions devour your flesh

As the flames flicker and die

As the birds peck at your remains

As the smoke of your cremation fire disperse

So too may the rumbles of the earth desist

So too has the world quickly  forgotten

..

But for loved ones left behind

Homes are there no more

But life must go on

So we rebuild

Karma has bonded us

As time unfolds and continues

May this Yushu again be a pure abode

..

As Yushu rises from the ashes

As pure motivation and compassion arise

In the hearts of those who share your karma

As the haunts of the Mani Mantra

Resound in your hearts

And its echos fades in the distance

May its essence birth in ours..

By some strange coincidence I was humming and singing this song yesterday while driving and I found this link in my inbox…Thanks Sam for this fwd.

This man is blessed!

Ajahn Brahm

In the book “Who Ordered this Truckload of Dung” Ajahn Brahm gave many insightful and inspiring stories but I liked the ancient Chinese proverb quoted at the opening page. It rightly deserves it place in the beginning of his book. It goes…

Grant yourself a moment of peace,

and you will understand

how foolishly you have scurried about.

Learn to be silent,

and you will notice that

you have talked too much

Be kind,

and you will realize that

Your judgement of others was too severe.