Poetry on a Friday

Meet Anna, the latest addition to my daughter's doll collection. If you notice that Anna seems to be wearing something very similar to a CHIJ Saint Nicholas uniform, well, that's because she is.
I received this little doll last Friday afternoon, as a token of appreciation from the school. CHIJ was organising a poetry event, and I was one of the two invited speakers. The other invited speaker was Marc Nair, who had recently published his second book, entitled Chai, which is a collection of his travel poems.

About 250 students attended. Most were from CHIJ Saint Nicks itself, but there were also perhaps 20 students from other schools including Anderson Secondary and Deyi Secondary. I spoke about how to explore one's everyday experiences and circumstances and use them as material for creative writing. In retrospect, I probably could have simplified my presentation and made it a little less high-brow.

I also read five poems from my book Two Baby Hands. One of the poems was The Couple Next Door, a poem about wife abuse, set in the HDB heartlands. Coincidentally, a CHIJ literature teacher told me that another school, Singapore Chinese Girls School (SCGS), had just used this poem to set an exam question in their literature prelim paper.

The Couple Next Door

Sometimes at night I hear them fight. I think
it's over money. Usually he's drunk. He always wins.
Hits her with something heavy - I can't tell what.
She cries awhile, then falls silent. A door slams.
This happens about once or twice a week.

I listen intently to all their fights. I blast my radio.
He will hear me. And know that I can hear him too.
My small intrusions. My vague useless gestures.
My rock music turning violent, bearing futile witness,
battering doors at midnight demanding entry.

What does she do, after he falls asleep?
Perhaps she lies besides him, counting the reasons
not to leave. This time not so bad, no need to see doctor.
Maybe: I cannot go. We are already married.
Or worse - He won't do it again. I know he won't do it again.

Sometimes in the mornings, on the way to work, I see her
in the common corridor. She must know that I know.
Her eyes avoid mine. I let the walls stand.
I will be the stranger who sees and hears nothing.
I believe we both prefer it that way.

Perhaps a little overly dark, for teenaged students. But then again, perhaps not - since SCGS had seen fit to use it as an examination question. Ah well.

Quite a number of secondary schools in Singapore use my poems for their literature lessons from time to time. It all started several years ago, when the Education Ministry asked for my permission to include my poems in their official "teaching resources" file, for literature teachers. Although I don't get paid for this, I am pleased that this allows many of my poems to get a regular readership, year after year, among Singapore's literature students.

Even if my poems are now ... homework. :D
Gadis Bispak Imut

• Lihat Foto
• Lihat Foto

Babies and Fractures and Einstein on the Violin

In terms of manpower, my department has been jinxed most of the year.

Here are the developments in October alone. One colleague went on paternity leave. Another colleague will go on paternity leave any day now. And another colleague fell down a staircase this week, fracturing her leg, so that means six weeks' MC.

I am happy for the two new dads. And very sorry for the stairs-tripper. I am also sorry for myself - because guess who has to do all the work, while all these other people are away?

Rather ironic, because next week I am to give a talk at CHIJ Saint Nicholas (it's a literature camp, for students from six schools) and one of the things that the organiser asked me to talk about is how I successfully juggle my career with my creative writing.

Since blunt honesty is one of my more endearing traits, I don't think I will paint a pretty picture for them.

It's bloody tough. My progress on Book 2 is slow as snails.

One thing I will say is that everyone should have at least one passion, outside of and away from their career.

Doesn't matter what you do for a living, doesn't matter even if you really, really like your job. That one passion, away from your main job, allows you to recharge, renew, gain another perspective, live and learn and grow in a different way.

If creative writing is your thing, then that's great. If it's something else, that's great too. As long as you find it.

Einstein used to play the violin. Did you know that?

In other literary news, I'll be reviewing a new book - Reaching for Stones, by Chandra Nair - for Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. This is a pretty hefty collection, compiling his poems from 1963 to 2009. No further comments from me at this stage, as I just received the book (free review copy, yay!) yesterday and haven't read it yet.

Also, my publisher just told me that he's in talks with an electronic publisher in the US to license them the rights to reproduce and distribute my poetry book Two Baby Hands in any "electronic format or media, now in existence or hereafter developed".

I wonder whether that means I'll be able to read my own book on my iPhone. I would love to be an iPhone app - wouldn't that be cool?
Gadis Bispak Imut

• Lihat Foto
• Lihat Foto

Love, Life and Poetry

In a recent post, I mentioned my all-round philosophy to life. Here's an example of how it works.

I used to be in private practice in one of Singapore's top law firms. It paid very well and the work was very interesting. In fact, for my particular area of practice, no other firm in Singapore offered more challenging work. A year of experience there was worth two or three in other law firms. However, due to a chronic shortage of lawyers, the hours were very long.

Then my first child was born. Six months later, I quit the job. Mrs Wang quit private practice too. The kind of work/family balance we wanted was not going to happen, in a law firm environment.

I had absolutely no regrets. If I thought only in terms of the cost to my career, I would have had regrets. But the wiser thing to do was to consider life as a total package. I looked at my life as a whole, and the correct decision became quite clear to me. So I left private practice without hesitation, quite happily, and much to the dismay of my then-bosses. And I haven't looked back.

Now I have two kids. Recently, I've once again been spending less time with them than I would like. This time it's not the job. It's my exams. Fortunately, they will be over soon. Also, there is another difference, compared to the earlier days. Now the kids are older, more independent, and they have each other as playmates. I've been discovering that their new attitude is: if Daddy can join in, that would be great, but if Daddy can't, then that's fine too.

Gasp. They're growing up. That was quick.

A Worried Mother recently wrote to me - she is stopping work for a few years, to be a full-time mother to her newborn. I say this: don't fret about taking time off from your career. In the big picture of things, it does not matter whether you devoted 40 years of your life to your career, or 38, or 37. But the time with your child is very important, and once lost, doesn't come back.

Because kids are not kids forever. They grow up. Treasure the time you have with them, while you still have it. Because before you know it, they'll have their own lives and it will be time to let them go.

That's what Kahlil Gibran wants to tell you too:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you,
yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Interestingly, in this other post of mine, a Buddhist reader, Chan, makes a bizarre argument against homosexuality. I thought I'd heard it all before, but this one is new to me. Chan says that homosexuality is wrong because the gay person, by not procreating, is being unfilial to his parents.

I then mentioned Buddhist monks. Are they, I asked, also unfilial to their parents, for choosing a life of celibacy and thereby not procreating? Chan's reply was that if the Buddhist monk seeks his parents' permission before entering monkhood, then the Buddhist monk is not unfilial. By extension, Chan says, if a gay person seeks his parents' permission before adopting a gay lifestyle, then the gay person's behavior becomes acceptable.

I'm struck by Chan's emphasis on filial piety. But personally, I think that in such a context, the principle has been stretched waaaay too far. Human beings are human beings, not the slaves or dogs of their parents. When they are adults, they must be left to make their own decisions and choose their own paths in life. Suppose you feel a strong calling to be a Buddhist monk. If your parents approve, that's great. But if they don't, then don't let their objections stop you.

Here is a real-life example: the Venerable Hyon Gak Sunim, Head Teacher at Hwa Gye Sah Temple in South Korea. Formerly, he was Paul Muenzen, the son of staunch Roman Catholics in the USA, and a graduate of Yale and Harvard. He pushed it all aside, to be a monk. Well, he's happy. And it's his life, after all. Not his parents'.

Speaking for myself, if my children grew up and decided to convert to Buddhism, I would not stop them. If they decided to convert to Christianity or Hinduism or Islam, I would not stop them either. In each case, I would only want to know that they have reflected and considered carefully and have concluded that this is what they really want for themselves. And if my children grew up and one day told me that they were gay, then in a strange way I think I would feel honoured. That they loved and trusted me enough to tell me such a thing, in a society where such things are often so deeply misunderstood.

In all cases, I think I would continue to love them, as a father should. I would respect their basic intrinsic right, as human beings, to choose their own paths in life, even if these are not paths I would have chosen for myself, or for them. How did Kahlil put it?

"You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you."

I like Kahlil's works. They contain such great wisdom. It's such a pity that our education system places little emphasis on Literature. It's just about the only subject that examines the condition of being human.

My next-door neighbours are always fighting and quarrelling, and it all started from the time when the handsome young Indian man there fell in love with a pretty young Chinese girl. That was years ago. Now they're married, but the man's parents are still fighting over this interracial marriage. Every now and then, they still throw the Chinese girl out of the house. So she sits outside the flat and cries. I see this as just another kind of Romeo & Juliet tragedy. If only the man's parents had read Shakespeare ... maybe they'd stop their bad behaviour.


Gadis Bispak Imut

• Lihat Foto
• Lihat Foto