A Song In The Morning

I love to write reviews about the lives and works of great figures of the past. Why do I keep doing it, even though I do not even qualify myself for this undertaking? I do not want to be seen as standing on my pedestal, judging the works of people who can no longer speak for themselves. Just think of me as clearing an old pathway for your enlightenment. I believe there is a deep need in all of us to make this world a better place. One of the ways to fulfill this objective is to look at the world from the shoulders of giants. All my philosophical musings are nothing new. I am only expounding ideas set forth many aeons ago by great men and women of the past.

I half remember a vision I had not long ago about a visit to a great museum that displayed the lifestory of great artists, poets and philosophers who had lived many generations ago. Lives of people like Michaelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, George MacDonald, C S Lewis, Plato, Augustine were on display on a big, wide screen. Outside the great hall, at the entrance, were many sculptures representing the works of literary giants. One stood out among them. On the stone was inscribed the word, Phantastes by George MacDonald. I shall do a review of this extraordinary work that had colored the perception of the world around me and, as CS Lewis once said, 'baptised my imagination'.

As expected, heavy downpour has hit us again. Last night, my old clinic shoplot suffered a huge crack on the roof as water dripped down through the gaps like rainshower. We tried to contain the water. The filling of pails and containers sounded like an orchestra of broken music. A second wave of floods, particularly in Johor, has continued to grab the headlines in recent days. While there is mass evacuation, some people are refusing to leave their homes despite the rising water level. Since God's being is closely reflected in nature, how do we make sense of what is happening today? It is as if God has turned His face from us, leaving us to swim in His tears. I looked at the scenes of the flood and I pondered. As I pondered, I began to see a flicker of hope for those who have lost their properties, belongings and treasured items. That hope lies in the lifting up of the feeble head of the little girl as she wades through the subsiding deluge with her mother. That hope lies in the brief smile on the troubled countenance of the pakcik upon seeing children having fun on a boat. That hope lies in the lighting of a candle as whole townships suffer blackouts. Despite the waves of flood that will surely come again, we as a human race shall survive this ordeal.

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I would like to thank the folks at Malaysian Medical Resources for tagging me in one of their grand blogrounds. As you do your 'ward' rounds, I am glad you have not forgotten to look at things in a holistic manner.

Work in progress

George MacDonald: At the back of the North Wind

When God closes a door, He always opens another one. Such is the spirit of faith shown by the great 19th century Scottish writer George MacDonald as he struggled to provide for the earthly needs of his young family that threatened to envelop them in the slums of poverty while he battled against his recurring attacks of bronchitis. Perhaps through cracks in the walls of his home through which the winter "wind blew like knives", did MacDonald get the original idea of writing a book which later turned out to be his most enduring bestseller, At the back of the North Wind (ABNW).

In those days, the chief form of entertainment and information came from lectures given by the learned, in which the intellectual climate can be said to be more sophisticated and discerning. Though a popular lecturer himself, he is not able to keep up with the demands of extensive traveling due to his health - suffering from exarcebations of asthma and probably chest infections which was prevalent in those days. At the age of 32, he had already lost his mother, two brothers and a stepsister at a time when the mortality rate in the Victorian age was high due to poor living and working conditions.

ABNW probably reveals the best of MacDonald's imaginative genius as well as the simplest of storyform about the wanderings of an ill boy,named Diamond which took place in two worlds, the real world of 19th century Victorian London and the dream world where the adventures began at the back of the North Wind. It is a delightful story that appeals to children, yet can be perplexing to the young minds as in this statement by North Wind, acting on the decree from God, as she was about to cause a ship to sink:

"How can you bear it then, North Wind? For I am sure you are kind. I shall never doubt that again.", Diamond asked (as he was being carried between the bosom and the arm of North Wind).

"I will tell you how I am able to bear it, Diamond: I am always hearing, through every noise, through all the noise I am making myself even, the sound of a far-off song. I do not exactly know where it is, or what it means; and I don't hear much of it, only the odour of its music, as it were, flitting across the great billows of the ocean outside this air in which I make such a storm; but what I do hear is quite enough to make me able to bear the cry from the drowning ship. So it would you if you could hear it."

There is also this most moving account at its conclusion:

I walked up the winding stair, and entered his room. A lovely figure, as white and almost as clear as alabaster, was lying on the bed. I saw at once how it was. They thought he was dead. I knew that he had gone to the back of the north wind.

It is a story of two worlds being merged into one, their presence are felt immediately as if one can pass from one world into another, naturally and without warning. Witness the conversation between the child and North Wind:

"Well, please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am quite ready to go with you."

"You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all at once, Diamond."

"But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?"

"No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are beautiful."

"Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good too."

"Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond. What if I should look ugly without being bad-- look ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful? What then?"

"I don't quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me what then."

"Well, I will tell you....If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the whole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse than Mrs Bill, the blacksmith's wife--you must believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a serpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold on me, for my hand will never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold, you will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't see me the least like the North Wind. I may look something awful. Do you understand?"

"Quite well," said little Diamond.

"Come along, then," said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain of hay.

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her.

He kept writing until well into his 73rd year - even though his health worsened because of his tendency to develop asthma, bronchits and eczema which has also kept him from sleeping well. He said it was foolish to say that after a certain age, a man ceases to grow. As he revealed in a passage from Paul Faber, Surgeon: "A man who does not care and ceases to grow, becomes torpid, stiffens, is in a sense dead; but he who has been growing need never stop; and where growth is, there is always capability of change: growth itself is a succession of slow, ascending changes".

The popularity and the fairy element in his books continued to this day. He attracted the interest of some of the most celebrated literary critics of the 20th century including C.S. Lewis (author of Chronicles of Narnia) and J.R.R. Tolkien (The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings). C.S. Lewis commented, "What he does best is fantasy....And this, in my opinion, he does better than any man.....MacDonald is the greatest genius of this kind whom I know." Poet WH Auden said, "In his power....to project his inner life into images...., he is one of the most remarkable writers of the nineteenth century."

I loved his portrayal of the innocence of childhood, nature and the Scottish mountains, streams and fields. He had an unique approach to dreams and a tender but penetrating wisdom concerning death as can be seen in ABNW.

The legacy of his literary gift lives on, and his major works can be found in The Golden Key.

Work in progress

Chess, Art and a death on New Year's Eve

Happy New Year! Xin Nien Kuai Ler! I woke up feeling a little uneasy. The morning weather was fine, but my uncle passed away last night...to another world…just before the display of fireworks lighted up the sky. My wife and I headed straight for his house. I wanted to see his face for the last time. He was a victim of complications from diabetes. Whether it was his dizzy spells resulting in fall injuries, intractable pruritus in which he consulted numerous dermatologists as well as sinsehs, or multiple episodes of low sugar attacks which prompted me to make emergency house calls, his past few months is one slow train ride in suffering. Perhaps realising that he would never regain his health, I saw him slide towards major depression and later stupor. I've started him on antidepressants and reinitiated the treatment regime several times but there was no firm follow-through on the part of the family. However, his children, in the spirit of filial piety, has been 100% committed in getting him proper specialist attention and bringing him in and out of hospital.

So, the life of this 71 year old man is lost but the story lives on. I can only say that, more than mere words, the true biography may be revealed one day by the One who has the authority. This afternoon, I immersed myself in a world of 64 squares - I played chess on the internet, just to clear my mind, you see. Do you know that you can play chess even right now? You only need a dial-up connection - it does not take up much bandwidth. Until I joined the internet chess folks 2 years ago, I have not been shoving wood on the chessboard for more than 20 years since my schooldays. I was a former school champion but my recent play is really rusty. Furthermore, I have not updated myself in the openings which would normally take up a huge chunk of memory for the aspiring chess player. Training towards gaining an international master title is hard work. The Bobby Fischer wannabes practically eat and sleep chess everyday.

I am now a regular at Chessbase as well as a registered member of US based worldchessnetwork for a period. WCN is one of the most friendly chess network I’ve discovered. You get to play and train with many grandmasters and international masters. I had the privilege of playing blitz games against Gata Kamsky, the former World Championship candidate finalist in 1994, Larry Christiansen, US Chess Champion in 2002, and Irina Krush, former US Women champion. Larry is a great chesscafe talker and plays instructive games. Needless to say, I lost tamely to them. Occasionally, they made unorthodox opening moves which I wasn’t prepared for as well as piece sacrifices which on computer analysis later, I found to be unsound. They won because of better time control, experience and reputation. Here, I want to digress a little. WCN, incidentally, is co-sponsored by Dato’ Tan Chin Nam, the IGB Corp magnate. IGB Corp is the developer of Midvalley Megamall and Sierramas. He is also the entrepreneur who developed the country’s first condominium and initiated many low cost housing projects back in the 1970s. He also sponsored the annual week long Malaysian Chess Festival held at around Merdeka Day which attracted many foreign participants.

Recently in an autobiography called Never Say I Assume, on the Malaysian chess scene, he said chess has been rejuvenated, but not revolutionised. This businessman turned philantropist’s assessment of the current position is that developing top level chess players is a challenge because of the family and social structures in our country. Still a market economy, Malaysia is a sober nation sitting on the cusp betw Third World and developed nation status. Firm family structures produce obedient children. With no welfarism, parents are more intent on their children studying and later working hard to earn their daily bread.

How true! The relevant education bodies should promote chess in a scholastic manner as is done in US and Singapore. It is a game of logic and imagination which makes you responsible for every last move you make. For me, chess is similar to art, where one finds an expression, although playing the game is involving your opponent in an art of war! It is not a boxing game though. It is a game where you can make friends. But nowadays, on the internet, people are more concerned with winning, with or without computer assistance! Anyway, the personality and temperament of each player will determine how he or she looks at the game.

The artistic element in chess can be perceived in different ways - it is a subjective thing. Compare the difference between how a human and a chess program play chess. While a human being can produce fireworks on board with his creativity and imagination apart from logical thinking, the beauty of a super grandmaster level computer software like Deep Fritz, lies in its sheer calculation speed. When you find yourself in a strategically lost position playing against the program, even though materials on both sides are equal, you know you have been beaten by raw mathematical precision. It's like a python slowly but surely strangulating you to death!

Another reason why I say chess is art is from personal experience. When I am immersing myself in the game, concentrating and doing some analysis, I sometimes feel like I am transported to another world, much like doing a form of transcendental meditation. I feel like I am in another place, surrounded by nature. Lately, to confirm my suspicion that chess is an artform, Fritz programmers have unveiled another program, called Ludwig, that can actually compose music. Not only that, Ludwig can compose songs to suit your level of competency in the musical instrument of your choice! You can listen to some sample compositions here. Makes me want to take my old Yamaha flute out, give it a little shine and start playing again! If you ask me whether this program can compose Sesame Street like tunes, well maybe. What about Kenny G stuff? No way!

Christmas and the Great Flood

Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I would just like to let my fellow Christians that I am acquainted with know that you have the potential to spread 'joy to the world' because you are the joy itself!

Spare a thought for the flood victims in Johor and other parts of Malaysia as well as Sumatra. Such bad timing for a natural disaster to occur. Remember the Boxing Day tsunami 2 years ago? The flood serves as an early warning as deforestration continues to destroy the environment. Perhaps only the Main Mountain Range in the peninsula is shielding the folks in Klang Valley from experiencing a similar occurance.

In all my paintings, I can do anything that my imagination allows in my world. I can decide where to place the mountains, and whether I will have a river here or plant a big tree there. This is my artistic right! Similarly, the good news is that, no matter what situation you are in, you have total control over how it will affect your state of mind. You can choose to invite peace into your heart or feel lost amidst the chaos that envelops our hyperactive world esp during this end of the year holiday season. Right in the middle of the midnight countdown to Christmas Day, amid the shouting, the clapping, the blaring and the balloon popping, I was doing a little reflective prayer on my own, standing there among the crowd of revellers and happy children. This is the best gift you can give to yourself. Nothing, not even the tidal waves, can destroy your peace, if you do not allow it to happen.

If you are among the millions of bloggers who are writing for a better world, remember that change comes from within.

'Be the change you wish to see in the world' - Gandhi

Boxing Day falls on Dec 26th and is an English tradition - means boxes of food and cash given to the poor. They are traditionally given to those not able to celebrate Christmas dinners with their families eg the servants. Maybe we can celebrate this here with the less fortunate.

Seaside Magic

It is not uncommon for people to state that they belong to a certain religion and yet hold one or more views that are contrary to what he or she believes. I can tell you that I am a Christian and that I belong to a certain denomination. Yet, my belief system, is a synthesis of ancient Greek philosophy, post-modern existentialism plus some other Eastern thoughts besides the Christian creed. Yes, it does look more like a case of confused identity! Besides, there is so much more to learn in life. I guess, the best method to reveal who you really are, your thoughts and belief system, is to write them down, as what I am doing now online.

In fact, this blog is meant to be a spirituality blog, designed to help people with spiritual and emotional needs. It does not represent the views of any organised religion, as I do not wish to unintentionally offend anyone or cause misunderstanding. I also do not want to project a 'holier than thou' image of myself. Controversies on religious matters have often led to an 'us versus them' mentality which is very divisive. I see my attachment to spirituality as something of a passinate pursuit - believing that God is everywhere and only when you truly believe are you capable to connect to Him. As I have mentioned in my earlier post, imagine yourself standing at a beach and looking up to the beautiful evening sky. At that moment, you would feel that you are really not that significant and that the universe is much, much larger than you. As a fellow traveller in this short life, I can say that much of life is about suffering, although it is also only temporary. This is evidenced by the fact that many people in parts of this world are still living in poverty. A child dies every 5 seconds due to poverty related illnesses. Every minute, a child or newborn is diagnosed with HIV. I dream of one day when we will enter into a world without poverty and diseases.

Where do all the evil stuff in this world come from? Much as I would like to avoid talking about it, there is, at the back of my mind, an admission that we, because of our human nature, have an intrinsic dark side in us. This dark side is something that many of us would not want to come out and openly confess about. However, do not be afraid to bring it before God; His Light will illuminate us and overcome our sins, our weaknesses and imperfections. There is no point being pesimistic or have an obsessive guilty conscience about our sinful nature as if we are born to be wicked by nature as some people would want us to believe. That's why sometimes we hear people say that 'children are all snakes', or that if a man meets a misfortune, that's because of his hidden sinful past.

Therefore, because of who man is, when one comes before the Almighty, who is benevolent and all Light, there is at once, a feeling of fear as well as a sense of the sublime. We tremble as we worship God. More than just a fiction for children, here is an excerpt from the book The Wind in the Willow, by Kenneth Grahame which illustrates perfectly what I mean:

`This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,' whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. `Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!'

Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend. and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fulness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.

'Rat!' he found breath to whisper, shaking. `Are you afraid?'

`Afraid?' murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. `Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet--and yet-- O, Mole, I am afraid!'

Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.