Shul

Shul. A Tibetian word. Meaning: A mark that remains after that which has made it has passed by.

I love words that can be used on the physical, literal, as well as the metaphorical plane.

In so many aspects of life, we see these marks, left behind after that which have made them have passed by. The lingering light after the sun has set. The tears we shed after we say goodbye. The leaves that lie on the ground after they have fallen. That ache in our hearts when we think of nostalgic things. The moments of silence after each breath.

These marks are all around us, surrounding us. And it is such a beautiful feeling to know that all these can be encompassed within a single word: Shul. A mark that remains after that which made it has passed by.

And what of the marks within us? The seeds inside us, the dormant tendencies which shape our personalities and characters, aren’t they marks left behind by our ancestors, culture and traditions, experiences and upbringing? And we ourselves are creating more of such marks, as we interact, create, speak, listen, and leave traces of ourselves, marks which will continue in the form of seeds planted in things and people, even after we have passed.

In that way, I feel this word alludes to the continuity that is Life. The overarching concept of Life which doesn’t end with the expiration of a physical body, for it continue in other forms, in the marks – Shul -we leave after the body which has made them has passed.

Food II

Cooking and making our own food is more time consuming, but also so much more satisfying.

Like, Sushi. The idea that we’re able to create something so aesthetically-rounded with our bare hands (credit goes to the amazing Japanese culture and people for this) brings such pleasure. And the fruit tarts – after an afternoon of mixing, baking, refrigerating and waiting, I could feel my heart flutter in delight when I finally placed the tarts on the plate, ready to be eaten in one bite.

Patience and resilience – 2 things I’ve learnt from learning how to cook. I had to throw out a pot of burnt cream custard because I did not add enough milk. Painful lesson, one that tempted me to give up, but the second batch was much more successful, and I’m glad I tried again.

Now that assignments are winding down and the first semester is ending soon, I’m making it a point to learn how to make/cook/bake something new every week.

Yum 🙂

Reflections @ Kiasu Espresso

Saturday –  I used some of the alone-time to reflect on the daughter I am / have been.

I do not deny that as we get older, we naturally have our own circle of friends, activities, plans and schedules. So do my parents, and that’s a good thing, because it means that they have a purpose in life beyond raising children and taking care of our every need.

However, it may also mean that we get to understand each other less, as we form our own lives, more and more apart from each other.

A few days ago, I got angry at my father who expressed certain views which differed from mine. Today, I got out of the house in a hurry because I found their conversations too noisy.

I questioned myself: By escaping like this, does it solve the problems? Obviously not.

If I think about it carefully, I realise I have 2 main options:

1. Make more effort to make them understand me

2. Make more effort to understand them

And since I am not the sort of person who goes around imposing my thoughts and views on others (for fear of more rejection, ridicule or otherwise), I suppose the best thing for me to do would be to make more effort to understand them, where they are coming from,  why they may behave in certain ways (like speaking about mundane things super loudly, which really gets on my nerves at times), or say certain things (like discouraging travel and putting it across as one of the most dangerous activities in the world).

As Gandhi said, “We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.” Before we judge and condemn, we ought to examine ourselves and see if we have made the effort to understand first.

Growing old is never easy. And as I do not think I was a very easy child growing up (throwing moody tantrums, crying for no reason, refusing to participate in school activities, even refusing to go to school for a period of time!), I suppose it is only fair that I get my share of challenges now and in future.

I just hope that I will have the mental strength and capacity to do all I need to do, and still love as I have been loved.

On the 15th

On a public holiday, I self-declared a day-out alone, determined to enjoy peace and solitude, with no one but my books, music, food and thoughts.

And I DID enjoy my books, music, food and thoughts.

UNTIL.

I was rudely interrupted by a familiar face who apparently felt the need to call out to me at an extravagant level of decibels, making me literally jump in my seat and shattering all inner peace.

In all fairness, I suppose he did not expect me to be so jumpy.

But still.

Sigh.

The world can be such a scary place.

Octa Hotel

Loved the arrangement of the street-facing tables (though the view could have been better), the vintage and antique-y decor, and soft acoustic music in the background.

The latte, unfortunately, was a fail (the menu promised art!), and so were the prices.

Nevertheless, one can’t put a price to the time spent in solitude and contemplation.

Cambodia on Film

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eat Play Love

Not to be confused with the book of a similar title, Eat Play Love is a craft cafe which offers avenues for hungry stomachs and creative hands.

 

 

 

 

 

Other blogs recommend that peace-loving visitors should only visit on weekdays, for the weekends bring on torrents of children and families.

https://www.facebook.com/eatplaylovealiwal

Changi Beach

On a particularly productive day, I managed to make my way down to Changi Village area, and snapped to my heart’s content.

Aside from a rather unpleasant episode with a group of ants, I enjoyed my time with nature.

Silence and Solitude really can work wonders for the soul.

Impromptu No. 1

An original impromptu, conjured up on a pensive afternoon, a few months ago.

Recently, I thought it would match the pictures from India, hence this creation.

 

Times passes, but does the movement of time always signify change?

My Instagram

I had no idea Instagram could feature our pictures so nicely off-app. I like 🙂