why study
Thursday, May 27, 2010
♥ Thursday, May 27, 2010
The presupposition made in setting any essay question is this: the essay question is worthy of reflection. When an essay asks us to discuss the differences between morality, ethics, values and the law we therefore ask: What would make this subject worthy of reflection? It cant be economical benefits- there is hardly any; it could be as a result of a University syllabus, but i think we all can agree that no University worth its salt will cite that as a reason to pose such a question to its students. We need a better reason. I would suggest that this reason is found by reflecting upon the nature of and what it means to be a student.
A student is undeniably defined by the work that preoccupies her- studying. Studying is an accumulation of knowledge and a search for theories. In that search arises an intellectual awe for the genius that preceded our generation and for the magnificence of our past visionaries. Its Freud and Jung for the psychologist; Dworkin and Hart for the lawyer; Beethoven and Mozart for the musician; Da Vinci and Michaelangelo for the artist; Edison and Einstein for the engineer; Aquinas and Aristotle for the seminarian. It is with a hope that we embark upon our readings- a closet shy belief that we could make a difference the way they have.
The student therefore idealizes and idolizes. It is no surprise that we constantly hear about the differences between the studying and the sadly jaded "working world". Subconsciously, we do begin to dream and visualise the way working doesnt allow for. That is why we fight and we debate. But whilst the theories and the debates rages on in our minds, comes a fundamental question: what is right? Phrased in more philosophical terms, the question is, what is true?
Sad to say, this search is quite a disappointing one. The search for truth, leads not so much to the truth per se. Rather, it leads to the love for a search. It leads to a love of history and a love of interpretation. It leads to a love of analysis and a love of dialogue. And as all such loves arises from our lives and its diverse experiences, we inevitably also begin to marvel at creation. With faith, the marvel is turned towards the Creator. A catholic student of psychology, for example, treads on the hard technicalities of the law governing psychologists, and moves into the abstract morality underpinning it, which is influenced by dominant social philosophies. She takes one step back, and marvel at the wonders of human thought and the splendour of a history unfolding and evolving into a present that she is a part of and a future she will have a hand in making. And there, she sees God's hand in the course of human history and God's will set in motion for the future.
In the annals of centuries, philosophers and intellectuals have attended to a question that is now posed to the student: who am I? Grappling this question begins with theories. Theory about human nature and human origin. Theories about human thought. Each student will of course answer that differently. But whatever it is, the point is that we must answer if we do not want to be lukewarm and to be biblically "spat out". The point is that, this question is posed to us individually and incumbent upon each person to answer.
The only justifiable reason for this essay is therefore this: it is necessary for the students themselves to understand on an intellectual and personal level, the meaning of their professions. There is no better way to achieve this than to have them reflect on morality and ethics. They are answering "who am I as a professional"
At philosophy is where both the intellectual and personal converge: the student is asked about theories of morality, being made to read debates about ethics and begin seeing that her own profession will engage such ideas in reality. The doctor knows that the hipprocatic oath is the principle by which his conduct would be regulated by: do no harm. The psychologist knows that confidentiality is the essence of a patient's route to recovery. The lawyer knows that his first duty is to the court. This knowledge is therefore personalised only when there is discussion about what is right and wrong and when one comes to see that professions engage lives in an intimate manner- for some it could literally mean life or death. Academia is the kiss of the intellect on the soul. To put it simply, one must study.
Dollars and Sense
Sunday, May 23, 2010
♥ Sunday, May 23, 2010
It is settled. The home's now just a house. What was once a place to live is now a place to reside. And the rationale behind it is a simple one: money. See the problem with money, i have learnt, is that it makes everything way too transitory. A business lasts as long as financial capital and assets are in excess over incurred debts. The comfort of a service or a ride lasts as long as one can afford. The sick lives as long as his wallet allows. A home remains as long as its investment value is lucrative. After that, it is all gone. Life is fleeting as it is. Money accelerates this.
When money accelerates life, it exhausts the one non-negotiable and non renewable resource: time. We are a treasure trove of memories. Memories are what we accumulate through time. And time connects meanings to objects. The autogate and its idiosyncratic clang everytime it is opened is attached to the arrival or departure of a person in the family. It either means dad is back or mum is going to work. Lying on the bed, i stare at the dust filled fluorescent light that brought memories of the first and only time i cleaned it about a decade ago. I think about the parquet flooring between my bed and my cupboard. I lie there to sleep on Sundays and after late night outs and also when I've made certain hygiene compromises. In a simple signature all would be fading remnants of the past. The memories and the meaning in exchange for the money. Maybe that is why they call it cold, hard cash.
But of course we got to be practical.
Practical. That is the language that our culture uses today. It is the cement by which money finds its philosophical support. They call it the need for income. Income. What a misguided word. What comes in? A number of digits that represent two things. First, the value of the bills in a locked drawer in an isolated room with metal bars that you probably never see in a lifetime; and second, the duration of the time you never used to love and never got to be loved.
I think that this post seeks only to highlight the pitfalls of this pursuit in an in-your-face, say-it-like-you-see-it manner. It neither seeks to offer advice nor aims to paint a rosier picture. At the end of the day, the pitfall is a simple and sad one: we end up incurring a human cost to avoid a financial one- this makes the dollars but no sense.
A picture speaks a thousand words
Thursday, May 13, 2010
♥ Thursday, May 13, 2010
There is much mystery in the art of a picture. This is because so much is conveyed in so little. A picture speaks a thousand words, and in a thousand words I therefore intend to speak for a picture.
In this picture, I’ll say that there is a call for relevance. As such, the black background caused by a shadow cast from the flash of a camera, throws the irrelevant chairs, tables, walls and decorations away into oblivion. This is not a painting and the picture itself is not art. It is the object of the picture, the central focus that makes the picture one of beauty. The background must therefore be brought into oblivion simply because it is not relevant. What is relevant is the person from whom the shadow forms it shape and by which the picture finds its theme. The theme is Simple Beauty.
Simple Beauty. One characterizes another. But the inverse might not be right. Beauty might be simple, but simplicity is not necessarily beautiful. The evening dress can never be the adjective to describe her uniqueness. Rather, it is she who gives one reason to call the light-turquoise gown she’s in ravishing. And so, what does simple beauty mean?
It means that there is neither act nor pretence. A smile is a smile which conveys nothing more than the happiness behind the occasion that brought the smile about and that speaks; nothing more than the joy that is crystallized in the curvatures of her lips. I therefore would make a bold and presumptuous speculation that should she revisit her photo ten, twenty years down, the purity behind the elation of that occasion would reach over and beyond the confines of the picture to tug at her heartstrings. And evidence that this has happened, would be in the form of yet another smile. This time, maybe the smile of a life lived and loved. Maybe of the fond memories of pranks played and jokes cracked.
I’ll say something else. Simple does not mean simplistic. Simplistic is a magazine with Britney Spears with a caption of “oops I did it again” smeared across the front page after another annulment. Rather, simple just means authentic. But like how only the knowledgeable get to appreciate the mona lisa and her aesthetic dimensions, authenticity is not observed and felt, but known. This throws an entirely different spin to our theme.
More essentially, this is the logical and academic analysis behind her resplendence shining beyond the rectangles of the picture to pierce the deep recesses of someone who knows her.
See the thing about beauty is that it seeks to convey what is real. What is real goes beyond what we can see. This is a message I’ve learnt over the course of three months. I will say that what is real is found in an invite to “doubt no longer but believe”. Like after putting our hands through the pierced sides and wounds, we believe after we’ve seen the choices a person makes to be present to another. She puts aside what is the most essential resource- that rejuvenates her day and energizes her spirit- only to tell me “I still want to talk”. She goes beyond time and space to ask, simply, but not simplistically, “can I pray with you.” She says, fighting back fatigue and lethargy “tell me about your day”. Simply put, she chooses to be real. And this is enthralling.
Her posture says it all. She leans forward- slightly relaxed and concurrently slightly eager. As if there was something that she is curious to know and yet as if she is already basking in the luxury of knowing it. It is as though there is an anticipation to encounter another, without judgment without preconceptions and without expectations. And yet at that same time, the same assurance and confidence that she has found the right view of the other- the view from above. The view from above that says, “this is my child, whom I am well pleased”. It is as though she’s found the key to celebrating another and she is saying that it begins with celebrating who you are.
Who she is, is a peek into her soul that the eyes have become the windows for- so the saying goes. What you will find is a deep sense of awe and a marvel of the world she’s been brought into on a Sunday morning, and a joy that exclaims “I am so happy for my friend” on a random afternoon. What you will find is a cheeky laughter which is neither shackled by the euphemistic “realities” of today nor stifled by the fears of an uncertain tomorrow. In her eyes, you will see her courage to dream.
She makes a slight tilt to the left. Her jaw line leads into the no man’s land between the mind and the soul, the head and the heart. This is the proverbial longest journey any one is to make. Against a flock of black and brown and with a pair of dangling earrings is the importance and distance of this journey emphasized. Yet where does the one end and another begin? When does the intellect give way to the personal? That is the beautiful mystery that we can only observe and ponder.
“God must have spent a little more time on me…” she quotes from a song in a playful and cheeky triumph at that time, completely oblivious to the fact that such a quote could summarize succinctly what the picture is all about. The picture says that “captivating” does not come in sophistry and complicated shades of colors in masterful strokes on big cathedrals; it says that “mesmeric” can be one articulated not just as a matter of eloquence but as a matter of truly knowing another; it says that here is a girl whose eyes and smiles, whose posture and personality and whose life, such beauty exudes from. We know that we are made in the image of God. We are a little clearer what that image is, today.
My Ang Moh friend
Thursday, May 06, 2010
♥ Thursday, May 06, 2010
" it was a pleasure mate, truly a pleasure", he wished me in his usual British accent, that by now, was diluted by doses of "lahs" and "wah lao eh". And then we had one of those quasi hand shakes-hugs that i always thought belonged to a generation of a 21-year-old British and thus never got used to. But then like the many things i've gotten acquainted with because of him, there is always the first. And in his words, they are "ace".
I introduce everyone to him as my "ang moh" friend. Believe me, i havent so much as conceived of the possibility that such a friendship could have happened. Acquainted at a mooting course, a subsequent drafting into a similar team set our paths overlapping, in the direction of Canada for the one purpose of kicking ass. But this path was anything but smooth-sailing. The three of us had contrasting personalities and interests. And those contrasts, in my tutors' view, were at times conflicting. Their advice to aid us in our cohesiveness was to talk about our feelings. It was second nature to our female tutors. To us, it was like learning a new language.
Every week, therefore, was a battle waged on many fronts. On one hand, we had to compete against each other, to sharpen each member's reasoning abilities. On another, the very competitive nature of such scenarios forced us to adopt stances that were diametrically opposed to our cohesiveness. In addition, the voluminous materials that we had to process every week, on top of our punishing workload, made the journey an incredibly daunting one.
But that cliche about turning weaknesses into strengths? The magic of that we manage to wield in Canada- how we did it still remains baffling to me. But what were three persons with one huge gap of inadequacies became one team with an unprecedented determination to succeed. Where we were impaired by our social awkwardness or acting skills, my ang moh friend would ride in with his eloquence and drama; i plugged in the gaps of our knowledge in the law, my "non ang moh" friend, like a potter, gave shape and structure to the presentation.
And so ass kicking, we did. Ask the champions- we gave them a run for their money. Ask the audience who gave us the standing ovation; ask our adversaries-professors, experts included. We did not win, but our heads were held high. They still are.
What was strictly business became leisure. The post competition, fish-head curry at my place, Ip man (that my ang moh friend resiliently calls " I-P- man") an island wide supper yesterday exploring Singapore's nightspots was the extent of our social get togethers. I do not know when an individual ends and a team begins; neither do i know when work ends and friendship begins. But yesterday, the ang moh friend passed me his rayban sunglasses, one with a shiny surface- the one i said i looked better than him in- and in it was a reflection. A reflection of how far we've come, together.
