NO WINNERS IN PLAYING THE BLAME GAME

I was having my favourite cuppa in a delightful little cafe, alfresco, on a beautiful 

sunny day. 

A rare thing indeed to feel the heat, and it would be a great crime if such fine weather

is not experienced in its fullest, outdoors.

Some people read while having the cuppa. Others fiddle with their phones or whatever 

gadgets they have.

I prefer to watch and learn.

Across the table sat a young mother and a restless child running here and there except 

sitting at the table where he should be.

She was coaxing him to have his orange juice and the fine breakfast on the table. 

She was piling on him a shower of terms of endearment - honey, my little man, 
darling, sweetie....Every possible term except a cross word.

With all the ditsy fleeting from table to table, the inevitable happened. He banged

headfirst into  a table corner.

All pandemonium broke lose. He bawled his eyes out and the mother swooped over him

like an eagle and tried to kiss away his tears.

Then she took him by the hand and led him to the offensive table. Vehemently, she

started beating the table and said, 'bad table, bad table' as if her golden child 

could do no wrong.  Immediately the boy was satisfied and the tears stopped. 

Completely bemused, I did not know whether to laugh or cry.

There were many laughable things I had done as a young mother once but blame 

shifting was definitely not one of them.

What was she teaching her child?

That it was alright to be careless? That unruly behaviour was acceptable in public? 

Or did she just want a quick fix to maintain order and quiet?

It is strange but when we are caught doing something unacceptable, we blame 

someone else, never ourselves.

Wasn't it Adam who blamed Eve for sharing with him the forbidden fruit?

When people in office resign when a misdeed has been exposed, there is a certain

level of accountability there.

Bob Marley said, emancipate ourselves from mental slavery. No one but ourselves

 can free our minds.

Learning to accept consequences is a great step towards freeing our minds. Being

accountable for what we do helps shape intentions and execution of plans.

I  used to watch Sesame Street with my children. There is this clip whereby a little

girl contemplates popping a balloon with a pin near her baby brother who is sleeping.

Then she rationalises that the noise would wake her brother up and his fit of crying would make her mum angry with her. Then she would be sent to bed and she would

miss eating the cookies in the oven.

She then puts the balloon down and says ' who wants to pop this nice balloon 

anyway'.

People are generally careless and inconsiderate. To find someone who is mindful 

and kind is such a rarity.

This is not to be confused with the concept of mindfulness which has become a present 

day buzzword, and if you are not focussing on your inhaling and exhaling, then you are 

certainly missing out on the greatest discovery on earth.

So, if children are not taught from young to be accountable for their deeds, it is not 

surprising that we are constantly surrounded by adults who bask in their own glory and 

blame others when things go belly up.

It is a sad generation that thinks they can do no wrong and that the world owes them a

living.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES
MALAYSIA, 4 SEPTEMBER 2016
http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/09/170619/no-winners-playing-blame-game

A CHAIR BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD MAKE A GREAT SEAT

I've never tried my hand at carpentry so I took a brave step in getting away to 

Slieve Aughty Centre, an ecofriendly resort for a weekend in the hills to learn how to

make a Sugan chair from the expert. I know, I should have settled for making something 

small like a chopping board instead of something that requires massive strength and expertise.

Sean Walshe the master craftsman was at hand to teach us this ancient and beautiful art. 

A younger Jeremy Irons look-alike, Sean patiently guided and helped us 5 ladies to choose 

the logs and make the chairs from scratch. He has great experience of traditional furniture

construction based upon a knowledge of native hardwood trees combined with the use 

of traditional hand tools.

So while others took to drilling and hammering with much ease, I was pushed to my 

physical limits and even fell backwards once when the force exerted was too great and 

I lost my balance. The heaviest thing that I had ever carried before the foray into logs 

was a watering can full of water. I prided myself as one who wielded more power with

 the pen then with the axe.

Due to their bespoke nature, Sugan chairs are made of green native timber, ash and 

hazel with 'mortice  and tenon' joints. This archaic chair has a seat made of woven sisal 

rope or twisted hay. Sugan is the gaelic word for straw .

The chair is found in most rural traditional homes and they come in different sizes and

styles. Some have arms so that farmers could rest their arms after a hard day's work 

at harvesting potatoes or cutting turf. Others have no arms so that more children can 

squeeze round the dinner table. In fact in the old days when the story teller (Seannachoi)

called, he would have the prized seat. He would sit comfortably, telling stories to the old 

and young. Such was the simple entertainment of the day.

I am not a chair person as I'm rather a bed person. A good bed is absolutely essential for

a good night's rest. However, interestingly enough a chair symbolises a great many thing.

There's the seat of knowledge and the seat of power. It is the throne that the king sits and

it is also the place where the condemned prisoner finds himself before being electrocuted.

The distance between chairs can denote either intimacy or estrangement.

The Broken Chair, sculpted by Swiss artist Daniel Berset is one. Originally erected on 

August 18, 1997, Paul Vermeulen, director of the non-governmental organisation 

'Handicap International' in  Geneva, saw it fit to use the broken chair as a strong symbol 

for the Mine Ban Treaty.

Another example is Vincent Van Gogh's painting of a chair and a pipe to illustrate simplicity

and separation from the world.

Empty chairs signify loss.

The seventy bronze chairs scattered around Plac Bohaterow Getta which used to be 

Plac Zgody in Krakow, Poland represent the pain and absence of the day as the ghetto in

Krakow was cleared and all the people's possessions were strewn across the streets. It is also 

known as the Ghetto Heroes Square. Each steel chair represents 1000 victims.

Even in the musical  Les Miserables, we have the iconic scene of empty chairs and 

empty tables where revolutionaries paid the price of freedom with their lives.

So,what is the price of a personalised chair?

I love a good challenge and I am one of those who believe that when you stretch yourself 

outside your comfort zone, you learn something. 

And what a stretch it was - with muscle ache in all directions, I carried home a beautifully

hand crafted Sugan chair.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 7 AUGUST 2016
http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/160807nstnews/index.html#/23/

MAKING MEMORIES KEEPS COUPLES CLOSE

I treasure life and each day that I can wake up healthy and surrounded by beautiful things is
something very awesome to me.

I am what John Maxwell, the motivational speaker says - a lid lifter. 

The image is a jar with a lid. How many memories your jar can hold depends on when you cover it and say that's as far as I will go. That's enough for me. For some it may be a reluctance to go
beyond the comfort zone or to try out new things.

I wasn't born a lid lifter. I evolved into one and am still evolving. Lifting the lid makes one vulnerable.

There is a risk but I will not exchange new memories and the lessons that come with them for 
anything in the world. When you lift the lid, you gain insight and become a nicer person to live with 
or be with.

In fact the little or the big things that we do together -  such as going for movies, picnics and
travelling form memories. But this is not limited to just us. It is also doing things together
with others like coffee chats, dining with friends, having friends over for dinner or enjoying outings 
with friends. The friends that we make all add up to our memory bank.

It's lovely to watch people who have just fallen in love. They  want to be together and do things 
together. It is the excitement of being in each others presence and in the presence of others as a
unit. Granted that one may go solo especially in specialised hobbies  like golfing, deep sea diving
or rock climbing.

But with time, togetherness may become a chore. It becomes an obligation, no longer a desire. It
becomes 'I'll do it ' just to avoid disagreement.

One spouse says that he has to bend backwards every time the significant other suggests an
activity. He says he's been working the whole day and has no intention of socialising.  He says it is
just not in his character to do the stuff that she likes.

She says the baby has driven her up the wall for hours and all she needs now is a good night's
sleep. She is so busy juggling so many roles that going to the gym is hard work and why dress
up when slacks and baggy clothes are surely more comfortable?

So he goes to a pub and talks about insignificant things and looks at the overhead TV together
with the others. I say 'look' because I doubt whether they are actually following anything that is 
being aired, unless of course it is football. The TV is easy company because it doesn't demand anything. The pub is perfectly convenient to enter or leave.

Now the home is different because you are dealing with real lives and real people who are
usually related in some way or another.

So we see married people living separate lives. They meet different people and pursue different
interests because the significant other is no longer making any more effort. 

When couples stop sharing their lives and making memories together, communication ends. 
Some call it married singles.

ABBA's opening lines in the song  One man One woman seems to capture what I've been trying to say in the last few paragraphs.

'No smiles, not a single word at the breakfast table...
Though I would have liked to begin
So much that I wanna say, but I feel unable...'

This scenario is a perfect setting for the entry of a third person. Suddenly there is someone else 
who shares your interests or so you think. But of course being devoid of togetherness for sometime
now, youenjoy the sudden attention.

It is no wonder that scams are rife. You often wonder how sensible people can be conned by empty
but sweet promises

Alas, the pain of loneliness is immense and the lack of deep communication takes its toll

What happened to making and sharing memories?

What happened to those days when you would do things together just because?

Lois Lowry in The Giver says, The worst part of holding the memory is not the pain. It's 

the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared. 

We need to lift the lids.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 24 JULY 2016 http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/160724nstnews/index.html#/23/

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JOB AND VOCATION

My friend asked me the other day, ‘What’s the difference between a job and a vocation?’ 

To me, a job is something that you have to do in order to survive. A job is something short term and we often hear the phrase 'dead end job' when people talk about their work. There is no long lasting fulfilment or happiness from a job. It is not uncommon for us to outgrow one job quickly and then search for the next job.

On the other hand, a vocation is a calling. We also get deep satisfaction from our vocation. There is emphasis on the person's talents and abilities in the choice of a career. Some people know what their calling is - to be in service oriented work, to be a volunteer, to be involved in religious work...the list goes on.

But for others, we discover our vocation along the way. We can start off with a job which at the end of the day might still remain as a job. However, we can also start off with a job which later becomes a vocation.

I would like to think that my vocation is touching lives. Simply put, if there is something I can do to make a difference in another person's life, then that is my calling.

I had the privilege to work among young people in lecture halls and in organisations. It started out as a job but it ended as more than a job because thousands of lives passed through my hands.

That I believe provided the ground work on which experiences were built and are continuing to expand into community, religious and voluntary work.

There are many charity bodies asking for funding and these advertisements are regularly aired over the Raidio Teilifis Eireann (RTE) and British Broadcasting Corporation. (BBC)

The organisations are so diverse- ranging from saving a donkey from a life of hard work to sponsoring a child. It is difficult to know which ones are genuine. Far too often we hear of funds being misappropriated and directors embezzling money that is not theirs. People shy away from donating because of such bad reports.

Putting our doubts aside, Michael and I decided to sponsor a child. Now that our children are grown, we feel that we can spread our love to yet another child by committing to help her escape the poverty cycle. Poverty is very real. It is like a generational curse that depletes the land and starves its inhabitants.

So when Compassion set up a stand at a conference that we attended, the time was right for us to check it out. This charity organisation has been around long before I was born and to date has helped over 1.7 million children.

Independent research conducted by Dr Bruce Wydick has shown that former Compassion sponsored
children were more likely than their unsponsored peers to stay in school for longer, have salaried or white-collar jobs and be leaders in their communities.

We were given a kit with a little 4 year old girl's details. The African child has a smallish frame but very serious looking eyes. Her country is dependent on foreign aid where hundreds die because of politics and AIDS. She comes from a land where hot, dry Harmattan winds reduce visibility during winter and periodic droughts leave many hungry.

The moment we laid eyes on the photo, we were convinced that we would see her lead a more fulfilled life till she reaches 18. It is like adopting a child that we have not met and the feeling is amazing.

By exchanging letters and photos and offering love and encouragement, I hope we will be able to affirm her worth and provide hope to Odette that will last a lifetime.

Maybe one day we might get to hold her. 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES, MALAYSIA 10 JULY 2016
 http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/07/157465/difference-between-job-and-vocation

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/07/157465/difference-between-job-and-vocation

GIVING THANKS IN EVERY SITUATION

I had a bad fall that left me in crutches for a while. I expected to heal quickly but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Many who have gone down that road would know exactly what I am talking about - days of swelling, pain, misery and most of all inconvenience.

Even though my friends have nicknamed me Pollyanna, there was this anxiety gnarling within me as to when I could walk unaided and I had to unhappily cross out all the events that I had already signed up for and cancel all the appointments that I had made

I fell on a Tuesday, two days before my birthday.

My friends had gone to great lengths to organise a surprise birthday party for me. They had bought the ingredients, the decorations and even ordered the cake. The theme was Caribbean and I could well imagine how much fun that would be. Sadly, it had to be cancelled.

Learning how to use crutches was a new ball game altogether. I learnt how to negotiate the stairs on my derriere just as a baby would. The first time I reached the top of the stairs, I just burst into tears. The whole experience was overwhelming.

Michael doubled up as a male nurse and received in-house training. After a while takeaways become boring and I longed for home cooked food. Seeing him look for ingredients in the larder (while I gave instructions from the couch) was pretty amusing. Being totally dependent on another for simple tasks was absolutely frustrating.

There were some things that I needed from certain parts of the house that were inaccessible for someone on crutches, so I had to give exact locations as to where the stuff was kept or hidden. I was astounded by my own memory power.

My children, sister and friends called or wrote regularly to check on me. I used to be the one visiting friends who were too ill to get out of bed and it was strange to play a reverse role.

Reading was my constant companion. I devoured every interesting piece of literary treasure and emerged with a head full of facts as well as trivial stuff.

I learnt compassion. I've seen how poorly some family members and hospital staff treat elderly patients. I can well imagine  how they must have felt when these carers grumbled beneath their breath or shouted at them. They did not ask to be old or sick.

I learnt patience especially when dealing with people who are not physically fit. I remember the times when I was in a rush and right in my path would be an old lady with her Zimmer frame and I just wished she could quickly progress on. Not any more.

I learnt how to settle for less.  I had just planted out seedlings in the cold frame before I fell. Those who love gardening would know that every stage is important and a good harvest depends on that.  I could see the garden from the window but I couldn't go out. I imagined the plants dying, one by one.

I learnt to see things from a different perspective. Bruises looked like a painting on canvas with colours changing with time - from red to purple to a sickly yellow. Taking a break from crutches, I would be on all fours. I saw grit and dust from a different level altogether.

Most of all when I went on a trip to Petra and beyond, even with the wheelchair and crutches in most places, I found that people were very kind. I had signed up a few months earlier for a very memorable trip and I wasn’t going to throw in the towel as yet. To my surprise, I was fussed over and received privileges that I had never dreamt of, like being the first in line at the immigration counter. I even had an airport staff retrieve my luggage at the carousel.

In every situation, give thanks.

This article was originally printed in The New Straits Times Malaysia, 12 June 2016

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/06/151345/giving-thanks-every-situation

GREAT COMPANY WITH OPEN HEARTS

It's not everyday that you decide to join a group and almost immediately find a sense of belonging. I'm talking about the Irish Countrywomen’s Association, (ICA) the largest women’s organisation in Ireland, with over 15000 members. 

Founded in 1910, it seeks to provide social and educational opportunities for women and to improve the standard of rural and urban life in Ireland.

Among the many roles during its early days, it worked against rampant antifeminism , promoted good health and encouraged rural housewives to establish home industries and take an active role in public and intellectual life. The association also sought to develop an Irish artistic and crafts identity. Crafts and skills courses are still run at its centre An Grianan in Termonfeckin, County Louth.

When I went for the first ICA guild meeting at Castletroy, I didn’t know what to expect. I was amicably warned before hand that the members would be ladies from a different era altogether and that the association would not be relevant to someone like myself. After all, I wasn’t born in Ireland and surely Kuala Lumpur would not be regarded as ‘countryside’ either.

Well, the moment I stepped into the hall, there was this sense of welcome that broke boundaries. Everyone was like a friend that I hadn’t met before. There was a genuine interest to know a new person and to make sure that she wasn’t left out.

I remember trying to make sense of the neighbourhood when I first arrived in Ireland.

The Irish are know to be friendly. However, more often than not, the onus lies on the newcomer to persevere through ‘friendly groups’ till she finds a good friend in the group whom she can relate to. I can fully understand why people from other countries do not mingle with the locals. Adjustment to new surroundings is already a battle in itself and to have to make a huge effort just to get to know someone new can be rather daunting. Worse still if efforts are not reciprocated and after several tries, it is no wonder that they give up trying. 

So it was a breath of fresh air when I went for that first meeting

What struck me was the  generosity and genuine friendship that the ladies offer.

So far, I've seen more takers than givers . We learnt how to make table centre pieces and after I had completed mine, the other members gave me more candles and decorative birds, in case I wanted to do a second piece at home. When it came to drawing raffle tickets, a lady offered to give me her prize when she saw I had not won anything.

Could it be because we share the same ethics and good manners of yesteryear? Could it be the display of selflessness and consideration that seem to be so lacking in the present generation?

Could it be because I see humility among ladies who are more senior than I am when far too often I face arrogant younger people who think the world owes them a living?

Could it be that they actually mean what they say? When someone in the group randomly invites you to her house for tea, you know she means it. And when you reach her house, you see that she has made the apple pie (with dollops of cream by the side) specially for you.

There was a birthday tea party that we staged for one of our members at the GAA hall in Monaleen The best China graced the makeshift tables  that were neatly covered with linen tablecloths. The details that went into the planning showed the level of care and appreciation.

After the tea, a great number of ladies made their way to the kitchen, rolled up their sleeves, and did the washing up. They were mothers, grandmothers, homemakers and professionals. No one thought of herself as above the rest.Hi.

Organisations like the ICA are still relevant despite the lament that not many in the younger set are keen to join. It may not be what it was in the 1900s. It has evolved with the times and it can still be attractive to the current crowd.

There is always room for great company with open hearts. My only regret is that I should have discovered the association sooner.

Indeed I have found my place.

This article was originally printed in the New Straits Times Malaysia 15 May 2016

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/05/145665/great-company-open-hearts