Postcards - from a place next to you

Perhaps, one of the most romantic thing one can do, for a wife, girlfriend, loved one, etc... is when you're on a trip to a faraway place with that special someone, write a postcard to her (unknown to her of course), telling her how much it meant to you to have her sitting next to you in that faraway place, and send that postcard home... So that long after your plane has brought the both of you back home, the postcard will arrive unexpectedly one day, be tenderly turned over by her with excitement, and warm her heart to no end knowing that every step of the way, she was on your mind, and that she has taken the right path with you...

Small Minds & Big Hearts

What does one normally do when up against Small-Minded People? Is your Heart Big enough to overlook and gloss over that small-mindedness? Are you ever tempted to match size for size?

What gives rise in the first place to petty overtures? Is it pride? Is it ego? Could it perhaps, deep down, be a reflection of one's insecurity, and self-realisation of one's own failings and inadequacies?

How does one make his heart big enough for such featherweight opponents? Will resilience and quiet solitude make it disappear and go away? Or does one need to attempt to embrace the flighty ideology and try to bridge the great divide in understanding and communication. Will eating humble pie help? Or will it simply bring on seizures and a massive cardiac arrest?

Perhaps the most appropriate response when face to face with a small-minded person, is to accept that there are varying degrees of physical dispositions in each of us, and that unless we do a thorough physical examination of ourselves, we may never truly know for certain which camp we belong to.

A Good Story, Well Told

Someone once said that a good script is A Good Story, Well Told. Sounds simplistic, even condescending perhaps. But pause awhile to think before you allow cynicism its unabashed will. A good script, or film, really just requires these 2 elements: (1) A Good Story; & (2) that it is well told. Straightforward.

The challenge lies in even getting either of these 2 elements right. A Good Story is the IDEA. Well Told is the EXPRESSION, the craft & skill. The 2 are like Siamese twins, conjoined at the birth of the Idea, destined to grow and live together, and create a miracle of jaw-dropping proportions. Perhaps a better illustration is the world's best violin. Without the world's best violinist to bring it to life and help it fulfill its calling, it is at best a finely-shaped piece of log illegally harvested from the deep recesses of the Sumatran jungle. You can't have one without the other. You need a good story, and you need a good voice to tell it. A bad story Well Told is akin to a rocket scientist using an abacus to tabulate bills at a rundown leaky chinese restaurant.

What about your life story? Is it a good story? Is it well told? What kind of a voice have you given to your story?

Who are the characters in your story? The protaganist, the antagonist. What is the conflict in that story? How does the plot evolve?

Where is the beginning, middle and end? Where are the highpoints of the story? Where is the climax?

How is the pacing? Fast ----------, or s-l-o-w...

Where is the setting?

What type of style are you employing to tell your story? Is it a comedy? Film noir? Mime? Melodrama? Sytlistic, Realistic? Puppetry?

Who is your target audience? Who are you telling your life story to?

Do you have the right resources to tell your story? Do you have the necessary Props & Sets? Do you have to beg, borrow or steal?

Who's telling your story? Is it a monologue, or is the Narrator someone else?

Who writes the ending? How will it end? How do YOU want it to end?

A Good Story, Well Told, is every Film-Maker's dream come true. And when the curtains finally fall, the audience will rise in rapturous applause and with a lasting standing ovation, shout out "Well Done, Thou Good & Faithful Servant".

Not a day goes by...

Several months back, around March or so, I vividly remember Grace asking me if I missed or thought of 'her'. I thought about that question for probably 2 seconds, and with a misplaced sense of heartfelt conviction, answered, "No, not really". Grace was admittedly surprised. It transpired that she didn't think it was normal for someone to get over a breakup so quickly, even though it had been a couple of months for me by then. And particularly for me as she knew I had poured myself into my relationship with 'her' and loved 'her' with an uncommon love. Well, I answered in all honesty when she asked me, as that was how I felt. I had at that time thrown myself headlong into all manner of activities, and had nary a split second to entertain thoughts of longings and memories of a bitter & painful breakup.

The days passed by in a blur till the fateful day I discovered that 'she' had betrayed me, that 'she' had begun seeing someone else even while we were still together, a cruel fact I had to find out from a most unlikely source. That startling revelation rocked my very foundation and assumptions, and sent me into a dizzying spiral of despair and self-pity. I had to muster up the courage to travel thousands of miles to find out the truth, as they say, from the horse's mouth. What they didn't warn me about though, was that the truth can sometimes be far worse than your most vivid of imaginations.

That said, I had totally and blatantly trusted her. Trust and Openness being the 2 pillars of our relationship, I had refused to believe anything said about her and wanted to know only what she would tell me. The truth knocked me back to a place I had never known before, a prison I didn't have the key to nor knew how to get out of. All I believed, and trusted implicitly, pulled out from under me without much of a warning. Everything that had seemed so perfect about us suddenly blurred into a mirage in a clear desert sky, taunting and teasing and ultimately drying you up inside with its incessant, empty lure.

At the airport, I had told her that once I left, it was final, and I would never turn back. I had determined to leave everything behind as my plane took off - all memories, hurts, joy, every good and bad thought. I sought to wipe out her existence from my mind. And I had indeed felt a certain victory. I felt that I was able to let go.

I sought to rebuild my life, this time with renewed wisdom. I tried to stay firm on the path I had chosen. I didn't want my heart to soften and to unwittingly turn back. I had to, for once, do it for myself.

This journey to rediscover myself has been far harder than I thought it would be.

Now, in 2 days time, it will be 8 months since we broke up. And if Grace, or anyone for that matter, were to ask if I still think of her, my answer, without any hesitation, would be "Not a Day goes by...".

The Idea-Expression Dichotomy

I only learnt this concept recently from Terence - that under the law of Intellectual Property, an idea cannot be protected, but the expression of that idea can. Seems strange that you can come up with the best idea, but you can't protect it, save for the way it has been expressed. As I reflected upon it, I realised that this concept, this dichotomy, encapsulated my thoughts succintly. So often, I may have an idea, a thought, but the expression comes forth so differently.
Or, put another way, we often do the very things we don't want to do, or don't do the things we want to do.

Is it an issue of self-control, of discipline? I'm still grappling with that.

Many quarrels and moments of unhappiness have sprung forth from this dichotomy. We oft love a person, yet end up saying the very things that hurt them. We care with all our heart, yet tear them apart with the harshness and glibness of our toungue. And the people we despise, we wear masks to hide our distaste for them, posturing instead a hypocritical casualness and nonchalance.

Men are notoriously poor at expressing themselves. We were brought up in a generation & culture NOT to articulate how we really feel. And so we fumble around, bruising our egos and ultimately fragile hearts trying to figure out the best way to be ourselves, the honesty of being Me.

Personally, I've always thought that I spoke my mind. More often than not, tact was like a foreign language I had to learn, and re-learn, over and over again. Nonetheless, for better or worse, I was always open, and honest about my feelings. Or at least, that's what I always thought.

Now, I'm at a major crossroad of my life. I know what I need to do (the idea), and yet I don't do it (the expression). I struggle daily with trusting that one day, it will come to pass, as promised. Every single day, I get into the boxing ring with my inner demons, and we slug it out - 5 rounds, 10... it varies. And it tires me out. I find it a tremendous challenge to let go, and let Him take over. My humanness, in its barest form, tightens its grip and serves up various distractions in a valiant bid to stop me from surrendering myself. My inner being speaks to me in that gentle, small voice, convincing me that there is a far better future ahead, if I will just stop fighting.

And so the battle rages on... small victories, big defeats.

The day I can just shut my eyes tight, throw myself off the cliff of self-preservation into the wind of uncertainty and promise, is the day that Idea and Expression amalgamate into one fluid, flowing body of art.

I.E.