This morning I woke up to a light floral scent in the room.
There is nothing in the universe that you are not. ~ Rumi
Friday, December 27, 2013
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Odd dinner at Siok's
Siok a retired teacher of English had found it inconvenient to walk to
and fro her house for daily meals, so she arranged to have food delivered
from a caterer in the neighborhood.
And since she couldn't possibly finish it all by herself I was invited to
help her out, and I've been doing so for the last year or so.
A couple of nights ago, halfway through polishing off my share at the
kitchen table, a sharp scent of Oil of Wintergreen burst through the
mundane flavors of "economy rice". Just a couple of meters away, it
lasted no more than a few seconds and disappeared after trailing a light
whiff as if saying "Hi and bye!".
Startled, I shot out of the kitchen and practically demanded of Siok,
who was reading quietly at her desk, "Did you use Kwan Loong
medicated oil a while ago?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"I got a strong whiff of it in the kitchen, that's why."
That was that, so I finished dinner, realizing that it had been a long while
since that mysterious scent burst upon my daily placidity.
Mdm Wintergreen and her friends Sunday, December 11, 2011
What a Strange & Magickal World we inhabit Monday, July 18, 2011
The first 'scenting' in months Friday, July 15, 2011
Sacred Heart prayer aftermath Thursday, January 6, 2011
9 times a day for 9 days - the sequel Monday, December 13, 2010
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sekeping Kong Heng: the saga continues
It is entirely possible that those who consider themselves well-mannered and considerate towards their fellow humans may well have the rudest remarks reserved for this curious amalgam of plastic, plasterboard, concrete, brick and steel that has been thrust into and upon the old fabric that has served for decades as a legendary place to meet over delicious, inexpensive fare.
Old and young, famous or otherwise, few Malaysians would claim they did not know of this coffee shop, especially when its conjoined twin Theen Chun (AKA as the House of Mirrors) sits just across the narrow lane that divides yet connects the two. And I can think of no other outlet where you may order food from one shop and have it brought over to the other!
But the Greek philosopher Heraclitus once suggested that change is the only constant, and Ipoh is no more immune to change than any other city.
So then, are you expected to reserve judgement in the face of this exercise in modern "brutalist architecture", a genre that is unlikely to be seen again, at least not in bucolic Ipoh?
“Yes,” I say. “Give the more sanguine sophisticates – either Malaysian or foreign - a chance, and this invigorating structure may yet spawn an urban legend that may rival that of Second Concubine Lane just across the street.“
Fresh green saplings and creepers modulate and enliven the otherwise long, almost dreary lanes on either side of Kong Heng: pink brick paving in two sizes offer a sense of peace and tranquility. Nevertheless, traditional and new materials are juxtaposed in the most disconcerting manner. Black painted steel stanchions spring uncompromisingly upward in support of a fire escape and an electrically operated goods hoist.
And when you get to the back of the site, more shocks greet you: transparent plastic sheets roof a grimy apology of a single story structure. The musty roof trusses silhouette darkly and gothically against the sky, as does an ancient tree that stands defiantly against time. Pristine white local limestone blocks line the floor of the open terrace, and you get the impression that the architect had intentions of milking the maximum drama out of this pocket of a renovation.
But wait a minute: you cannot reasonably say that, for this apparent effrontery has its counterpoint in the most carefully proportioned structures and unbounded spatial flows that make up the grounds. In the same vein, the partially enclosed lounge with its attendant restrooms continue these surprising, rhythmic dances under the canopy of a majestic tree.
When you retrace your steps and gingerly negotiate the steel staircase enclosed in lace-like skins to the first floor, you come face to face with recycled louvre doors that open onto a cage-like dormitory that sleeps six. By now, you have begun to expect the unexpected, for there appears to be no privacy afforded to these sleeping quarters. Nor adequate shelter from tropical sun and wind-driven rain.
“This can't be real,” you mutter sotto voce to yourself, as if you feared being overheard and jailed for being blunt-speaking. “But at least the eight air-conditioned rooms with attached bathrooms, shoehorned into the first floor of the old structure seem safe enough,” you console yourself.
Daring to explore further, you go up another floor and find yourself oddly relieved to find an old-fashioned tiled roof over a wall-less meeting hall with waist high steel netting to stop you falling over the edge. It is only when you step onto the original second floor of old Kong Heng that you get thrown off kilter all over again, for tucked neatly into the majestic roof trusses are two glass and metal bedrooms!
Trying your best to recover from this totally unexpected use of existing supports, you peer out one of the rickety timber shutters to spy - across the street - good old Second Concubine Lane. And the strangely calming hustle and bustle on Leech Street (now Jalan Bandar Timah) two floors below.
Much later, when you have recovered from the surreal experiences, you learn that the disused furniture warehouse next door sports a steel structure. And realize that the architect of the new work was only extending the use of that language of forms. To that end, she (?) has been expressing herself intelligently and even wittily. (That warehouse also figures prominently in future plans for Sekeping Kong Heng)
James Stirling's brick, concrete, steel and glass complex for the engineering building, Leicester University (completed 1963) was once thought an example of “architecture as high art”. Perhaps a little of that spirit may be discerned here, even if the layperson - who knows what pleases him or her - vows never to step foot onto the grounds.
Old and young, famous or otherwise, few Malaysians would claim they did not know of this coffee shop, especially when its conjoined twin Theen Chun (AKA as the House of Mirrors) sits just across the narrow lane that divides yet connects the two. And I can think of no other outlet where you may order food from one shop and have it brought over to the other!
But the Greek philosopher Heraclitus once suggested that change is the only constant, and Ipoh is no more immune to change than any other city.
So then, are you expected to reserve judgement in the face of this exercise in modern "brutalist architecture", a genre that is unlikely to be seen again, at least not in bucolic Ipoh?
“Yes,” I say. “Give the more sanguine sophisticates – either Malaysian or foreign - a chance, and this invigorating structure may yet spawn an urban legend that may rival that of Second Concubine Lane just across the street.“
Fresh green saplings and creepers modulate and enliven the otherwise long, almost dreary lanes on either side of Kong Heng: pink brick paving in two sizes offer a sense of peace and tranquility. Nevertheless, traditional and new materials are juxtaposed in the most disconcerting manner. Black painted steel stanchions spring uncompromisingly upward in support of a fire escape and an electrically operated goods hoist.
And when you get to the back of the site, more shocks greet you: transparent plastic sheets roof a grimy apology of a single story structure. The musty roof trusses silhouette darkly and gothically against the sky, as does an ancient tree that stands defiantly against time. Pristine white local limestone blocks line the floor of the open terrace, and you get the impression that the architect had intentions of milking the maximum drama out of this pocket of a renovation.
But wait a minute: you cannot reasonably say that, for this apparent effrontery has its counterpoint in the most carefully proportioned structures and unbounded spatial flows that make up the grounds. In the same vein, the partially enclosed lounge with its attendant restrooms continue these surprising, rhythmic dances under the canopy of a majestic tree.
When you retrace your steps and gingerly negotiate the steel staircase enclosed in lace-like skins to the first floor, you come face to face with recycled louvre doors that open onto a cage-like dormitory that sleeps six. By now, you have begun to expect the unexpected, for there appears to be no privacy afforded to these sleeping quarters. Nor adequate shelter from tropical sun and wind-driven rain.
“This can't be real,” you mutter sotto voce to yourself, as if you feared being overheard and jailed for being blunt-speaking. “But at least the eight air-conditioned rooms with attached bathrooms, shoehorned into the first floor of the old structure seem safe enough,” you console yourself.
Daring to explore further, you go up another floor and find yourself oddly relieved to find an old-fashioned tiled roof over a wall-less meeting hall with waist high steel netting to stop you falling over the edge. It is only when you step onto the original second floor of old Kong Heng that you get thrown off kilter all over again, for tucked neatly into the majestic roof trusses are two glass and metal bedrooms!
Trying your best to recover from this totally unexpected use of existing supports, you peer out one of the rickety timber shutters to spy - across the street - good old Second Concubine Lane. And the strangely calming hustle and bustle on Leech Street (now Jalan Bandar Timah) two floors below.
Much later, when you have recovered from the surreal experiences, you learn that the disused furniture warehouse next door sports a steel structure. And realize that the architect of the new work was only extending the use of that language of forms. To that end, she (?) has been expressing herself intelligently and even wittily. (That warehouse also figures prominently in future plans for Sekeping Kong Heng)
James Stirling's brick, concrete, steel and glass complex for the engineering building, Leicester University (completed 1963) was once thought an example of “architecture as high art”. Perhaps a little of that spirit may be discerned here, even if the layperson - who knows what pleases him or her - vows never to step foot onto the grounds.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Laughing in the spirit
Quite innocently, I turned up for last night's weekly Charismatic Worship at the catholic church of Our Mother of Perpetual Help (OMPH), even as it had been billed as a Healing Service a couple of weeks ago.
But instead of a lay preacher at the mike, it began much like a regular Mass with Fr Joseph Steven in full regalia, Bible readings and responsorial readings, accompanied by the most able choir.
The priest delivered a homily based on the tale of Jonah who was swallowed by a whale and which threw him out later. Apparently this is an allegory about resurfacing out of 'sin' that parishioners are encouraged to do, especially since it's a week since Ash Wednesday (22 Feb that marks the beginning of the Lenten season.
"Lent is a Christian celebration that is not marked by sales, such as those offered by malls at Christmas," he reminded us. "It is a period for introspection and to renew oneself with a view to purification. Those who have gone through the RCIA (Rites of Christian Initiation for Adults) also begin their preparation over the next few weeks for baptism at Easter."
After Holy Communion at the end of Mass, Fr Jo - as he is affectionately addressed by his flock - sallied into the raison d'etre for the special service.
"Healing oneself of perceived hurts allows the penitent to begin life anew, just as they agreed to do so upon their baptism."
I was right at the back of the worship hall, but did not join the long queue of my 'brothers and sisters in Christ' milling at the front pew. But I soon found myself laughing and giggling almost continuously for some five minutes, when the hilarious mood suddenly lifted.
Only to have it go on again for another five minutes after a quiet period of perhaps ten minutes.
How strange, I thought, as I checked the time on my cellphone: the laughing fits took place almost symmetrically upon 9.00 pm. And I recall the two previous occasions when I collapsed helplessly with laughter at Alex Woo's charismatic sessions.
When cousin Peggy SMSed this morning, she told me that I had been "laughing in the spirit", and suggested that I read 1 John 4:1, which had me trawling the internet for more information.
Along the way I uncoverd that curious event dubbed the Toronto Blessing when in January 1994 there began at a church service a series of phenomena when "holy laughter" was a hallmark manifestation, including many other unusual physical displays.
Here's a video that should offer an idea of what I went through, though in that short excerpt, the participant was supported by his friends, while I had fun all by myself, seated on a back pew!
At lunch a little while ago and intending to write about last night, I began giggling again at the thought. But I seem to be my everyday contented, detached self now.
When I told Alex about what happened, she suggested that I might take part in a laughter yoga session. I suppose I could buy Abhi's set of laughter therapy materials. He believes that laughter was the one ingredient that led to his lack of success, despite deploying the arsenal of techniques at his disposal.
I now understand Alex's astonishingly high rate of production NTM the large number of admirers she has attracted: she's so full of life, laughing and giggling easily at the slightest provocation.
More power to her then and I wonder if I got out of my dour old persona I might begin to write as effortlessly as she does.
edited 9 December 2013:
I have since learned from new friends who are promoting 'complementary' health practices that I may have clairsentient abilities. If that is so, I could have picked up feelings that my catholic friends expressed in song and testimonies. Perhaps those laughing fits of mine were no more than inappropriate responses?
But instead of a lay preacher at the mike, it began much like a regular Mass with Fr Joseph Steven in full regalia, Bible readings and responsorial readings, accompanied by the most able choir.
The priest delivered a homily based on the tale of Jonah who was swallowed by a whale and which threw him out later. Apparently this is an allegory about resurfacing out of 'sin' that parishioners are encouraged to do, especially since it's a week since Ash Wednesday (22 Feb that marks the beginning of the Lenten season.
"Lent is a Christian celebration that is not marked by sales, such as those offered by malls at Christmas," he reminded us. "It is a period for introspection and to renew oneself with a view to purification. Those who have gone through the RCIA (Rites of Christian Initiation for Adults) also begin their preparation over the next few weeks for baptism at Easter."
After Holy Communion at the end of Mass, Fr Jo - as he is affectionately addressed by his flock - sallied into the raison d'etre for the special service.
"Healing oneself of perceived hurts allows the penitent to begin life anew, just as they agreed to do so upon their baptism."
I was right at the back of the worship hall, but did not join the long queue of my 'brothers and sisters in Christ' milling at the front pew. But I soon found myself laughing and giggling almost continuously for some five minutes, when the hilarious mood suddenly lifted.
Only to have it go on again for another five minutes after a quiet period of perhaps ten minutes.
How strange, I thought, as I checked the time on my cellphone: the laughing fits took place almost symmetrically upon 9.00 pm. And I recall the two previous occasions when I collapsed helplessly with laughter at Alex Woo's charismatic sessions.
When cousin Peggy SMSed this morning, she told me that I had been "laughing in the spirit", and suggested that I read 1 John 4:1, which had me trawling the internet for more information.
Along the way I uncoverd that curious event dubbed the Toronto Blessing when in January 1994 there began at a church service a series of phenomena when "holy laughter" was a hallmark manifestation, including many other unusual physical displays.
Here's a video that should offer an idea of what I went through, though in that short excerpt, the participant was supported by his friends, while I had fun all by myself, seated on a back pew!
At lunch a little while ago and intending to write about last night, I began giggling again at the thought. But I seem to be my everyday contented, detached self now.
When I told Alex about what happened, she suggested that I might take part in a laughter yoga session. I suppose I could buy Abhi's set of laughter therapy materials. He believes that laughter was the one ingredient that led to his lack of success, despite deploying the arsenal of techniques at his disposal.
I now understand Alex's astonishingly high rate of production NTM the large number of admirers she has attracted: she's so full of life, laughing and giggling easily at the slightest provocation.
More power to her then and I wonder if I got out of my dour old persona I might begin to write as effortlessly as she does.
edited 9 December 2013:
I have since learned from new friends who are promoting 'complementary' health practices that I may have clairsentient abilities. If that is so, I could have picked up feelings that my catholic friends expressed in song and testimonies. Perhaps those laughing fits of mine were no more than inappropriate responses?
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Marian's cortisol levels
Last Monday night 18 Dec, when I bumped into her at Sun Weng Fatt, Marian was apparently still hungry after polishing off Gurmit's curry rice, and bought deep-fried beehoon in gravy for the 2 of us. Ah Nam duly delivered the order plus the usual sets of small bowls, spoons and chopsticks, and we finished our respective portions in almost no time at all.
It was rather delicious, and Marion wholeheartedly agreed.
But what she did next was rather unusual, at least in this little village formerly known as Epau and / or Paloh.
She dug her chopsticks and spoon into the communal dish and dumped the remaining third into my little bowl, saying, "Hey Peter, why don't you finish it," or words to that effect. And since I hadn't had dinner, I duly complied: after all, it was quite a tasty offering.
Perhaps half a minute later, I suddenly felt disgusted for no apparent reason, and I'm not prone to such feelings, since I'm generally good-humored most times of almost any day. In fact, I break into a broad grin for no reason than feeling thankful for being in good health for my age. (Apart from my sniffling but that's another story)
I soon twigged: Marion's reported foul mood earlier in her day must have found its way into her saliva.
Now isn't that strange?
No, no stranger than picking up another person's depressed mood left on a plastic chair I sat upon in a Canning Garden eatery many months ago.
I wonder if I may profit in some way or another from this curious gift of mine.
It was rather delicious, and Marion wholeheartedly agreed.
But what she did next was rather unusual, at least in this little village formerly known as Epau and / or Paloh.
She dug her chopsticks and spoon into the communal dish and dumped the remaining third into my little bowl, saying, "Hey Peter, why don't you finish it," or words to that effect. And since I hadn't had dinner, I duly complied: after all, it was quite a tasty offering.
Perhaps half a minute later, I suddenly felt disgusted for no apparent reason, and I'm not prone to such feelings, since I'm generally good-humored most times of almost any day. In fact, I break into a broad grin for no reason than feeling thankful for being in good health for my age. (Apart from my sniffling but that's another story)
I soon twigged: Marion's reported foul mood earlier in her day must have found its way into her saliva.
Now isn't that strange?
No, no stranger than picking up another person's depressed mood left on a plastic chair I sat upon in a Canning Garden eatery many months ago.
I wonder if I may profit in some way or another from this curious gift of mine.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Mdm Wintergreen and her friends
Wednesday 30 Nov at the cyber cafe, what seemed to be a woman's perfume suddenly manifested in the space between 2 rows of macho gamers, back of where I sat
The same fragrance turned up twice in perhaps an hour, with one occurrence rather more intense than the other; and I remind myself that the cyber cafe had no history of dispensing perfumes of the industrial
sort.
She had turned up twice that afternoon when I was then also online at no.108 console, but in contradistinction to previous encounters - when I was usually walking and collided into her - I found myself enveloped in her fragrance while seated.
I had asked Kevin the regular tech support guy if he'd smelled anything but he was too engrossed in his game a couple of meters away.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
What a Strange & Magickal World we inhabit
The other day at MPH Bookstore I came upon Strange Phenomena that led to a search for more info about Joey Nuzum, seen levitating in a photo. Along the way I found news about what certified clinical hypnotherapist Donna Higbee called Human Spontaneous Involuntary Invisibiliy.
Here's a longish essay she wrote after researching the subject.
Apparently the ability - if you can call it that - is attainable by men and wome through certain "spiritual" practices. And she suggests that scientists may have an explanation with their theory of "a cloud of free electrons".
My first encounter with this curiosity goes back to 2003 when I sat right at the back of a Catholic church on a Friday afternoon. A scheduled service was going on at the time when a woman parishioner sitting on the first pew suddenly winked out of existence and back again in about five seconds! She did not bend down nor move away from her seat; and when she disappeared I could see the back of the book rack normally found right in front.
Saying that I was not feverish, inebriated nor on medication, I mentioned this to a few friends who politely listened but who made no comments I could remember.
Writing this reminds me of an engineer friend who once locked a monocular - you might consider it a small telescope - in a glass case together with other optical instruments. One day the monocular disappeared, and only he had the key to the case. My friend was obviously quite perplexed since he had not used the tool, and presumably no one else saw it as well.
Six months later, the missing item turned up where he had left it, as if it had always been there all the while.
I also recall a woman friend of mine who reported that her companion - another woman - seemed to vanish in front of her eyes: both were at a meditation session at the time.
For what it's worth, here is a crop of a photo I snapped of myself with my Panasonic Lumix DMC-FH20 digital camera. I posted it on local blog PhotoMalaysia.com, hoping to find answers to what may be a hardware bug. (You are required to register and log-in if you want to see the pic I attached)
As I remarked in that post, you're welcome to contact me if you want to examine the original SD memory card and camera.
Is it not a Strange & Magickal World we inhabit?
PS: Read my cat story that turned up unexpectedly a few weeks after that vanishing in the church hall
http://interiorly.blogspot.com/2011/04/mind-games-week-1-influencing-reptile_29.html
Here's a longish essay she wrote after researching the subject.
Apparently the ability - if you can call it that - is attainable by men and wome through certain "spiritual" practices. And she suggests that scientists may have an explanation with their theory of "a cloud of free electrons".
My first encounter with this curiosity goes back to 2003 when I sat right at the back of a Catholic church on a Friday afternoon. A scheduled service was going on at the time when a woman parishioner sitting on the first pew suddenly winked out of existence and back again in about five seconds! She did not bend down nor move away from her seat; and when she disappeared I could see the back of the book rack normally found right in front.
Saying that I was not feverish, inebriated nor on medication, I mentioned this to a few friends who politely listened but who made no comments I could remember.
Writing this reminds me of an engineer friend who once locked a monocular - you might consider it a small telescope - in a glass case together with other optical instruments. One day the monocular disappeared, and only he had the key to the case. My friend was obviously quite perplexed since he had not used the tool, and presumably no one else saw it as well.
Six months later, the missing item turned up where he had left it, as if it had always been there all the while.
I also recall a woman friend of mine who reported that her companion - another woman - seemed to vanish in front of her eyes: both were at a meditation session at the time.
As I remarked in that post, you're welcome to contact me if you want to examine the original SD memory card and camera.
Is it not a Strange & Magickal World we inhabit?
PS: Read my cat story that turned up unexpectedly a few weeks after that vanishing in the church hall
http://interiorly.blogspot.com/2011/04/mind-games-week-1-influencing-reptile_29.html
Sunday, July 17, 2011
BrainEV's demo MP3
28 May I downloaded BrainEV's demo MP3 that Daily Guru first told me about. But I did not care to try it out immediately as I knew more or less what to expect: a transformation of thought patterns that I'd first encountered with binaural beats back in the 80s in KL. (And which development I'd been actively seeking with such exercises as journal writing with my left hand)
I've been using the demo on a casual basis without any change in mood or outlook that I could discern, until sometime last week when I had a colored dream. While it wasn't the first time that I'd dreamt in color, this occasion seemed a little more coherent and detailed. More to the point, I could recall it: I was in what seemed to be Yap's house at an evening gathering with people I knew from my past. While there was no clear story line, we were dressed in costumes that looked as if they came from the European Renaissance.
This afternoon I recalled an uncolored dream that appeared to be the beginning of a TV episode that had to do with an attack on armed fortifications. There was a voice over describing the motivation for the action, which faded when I awoke.
Just as I did so, a few bars of a slow melody floated into my thoughts that later developed into alternating strands of fast and slow bars; with the fast bars consisting of different melodies. It seemed to be European in character and may be a dance form I could have picked up somewhere yonks.
Now this reminds me of how Schubert described the way musical ideas came to him. He went to a quiet place and "remembered a melody he had never heard before."
Three hours later I can still hear the music running my brain.
This afternoon's episode was not unexpected as I'd intuited "memorable new developments" in the morning. And meeting Lawrence's son having a cigarette break outside Kao Lee restaurant and subsequent invitation to rare dim sum breakfast with his father seemed to start the day on a memorable note.
Hmm... I wonder what will turn up if I should use the BrainEV as regularly as the site instructions suggest, once in the morning and once before going to bed. And if I should start learning Mandarin.
"Do stay with us," as the FM radio compere might say?
The original link via Daily Guru http://www.gobrainev.com/
If you decide to try their sampler, you may get email from the related http://www.brainsalon.com/
(The same guy appears in a video overlay)
I've been using the demo on a casual basis without any change in mood or outlook that I could discern, until sometime last week when I had a colored dream. While it wasn't the first time that I'd dreamt in color, this occasion seemed a little more coherent and detailed. More to the point, I could recall it: I was in what seemed to be Yap's house at an evening gathering with people I knew from my past. While there was no clear story line, we were dressed in costumes that looked as if they came from the European Renaissance.
This afternoon I recalled an uncolored dream that appeared to be the beginning of a TV episode that had to do with an attack on armed fortifications. There was a voice over describing the motivation for the action, which faded when I awoke.
Just as I did so, a few bars of a slow melody floated into my thoughts that later developed into alternating strands of fast and slow bars; with the fast bars consisting of different melodies. It seemed to be European in character and may be a dance form I could have picked up somewhere yonks.
Now this reminds me of how Schubert described the way musical ideas came to him. He went to a quiet place and "remembered a melody he had never heard before."
Three hours later I can still hear the music running my brain.
This afternoon's episode was not unexpected as I'd intuited "memorable new developments" in the morning. And meeting Lawrence's son having a cigarette break outside Kao Lee restaurant and subsequent invitation to rare dim sum breakfast with his father seemed to start the day on a memorable note.
Hmm... I wonder what will turn up if I should use the BrainEV as regularly as the site instructions suggest, once in the morning and once before going to bed. And if I should start learning Mandarin.
"Do stay with us," as the FM radio compere might say?
The original link via Daily Guru http://www.gobrainev.com/
If you decide to try their sampler, you may get email from the related http://www.brainsalon.com/
(The same guy appears in a video overlay)
Friday, July 15, 2011
The first 'scenting' in months
The afternoon of Tuesday 12 July saw me at x2net cybercafe (where I'm writing this) after a long absence.
About halfway through there came a faint but clear whiff of scent from my left, and there wasn't anyone along that row of seats. And definitely not from any woman whom you might expect to touch herself up, as it were, since x2n is invariably haunted by macho male gamers practically all the time,
This time I was unable to put a name to it though I fancy it might have had a note of Oil of Wintergreen.
This is the first encounter in months since that wave of 'scentings' around end of 2010 and I wonder if this had anything to do with my last Sacred Heart Prayer a couple of weeks ago.
About halfway through there came a faint but clear whiff of scent from my left, and there wasn't anyone along that row of seats. And definitely not from any woman whom you might expect to touch herself up, as it were, since x2n is invariably haunted by macho male gamers practically all the time,
This time I was unable to put a name to it though I fancy it might have had a note of Oil of Wintergreen.
This is the first encounter in months since that wave of 'scentings' around end of 2010 and I wonder if this had anything to do with my last Sacred Heart Prayer a couple of weeks ago.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 7 Trappism
Task: Don't talk to anyone.
It sounds easy enough not to talk, but try it and see.
---
Richard Maurice Bucke
Richard Maurice Bucke (18 March 1837 – 19 February 1902), often called Maurice Bucke, was an important Canadian progressive psychiatrist in the late nineteenth century.
It sounds easy enough not to talk, but try it and see.
---
Yes I shall, after I've had breakfast. :-)
Meanwhile this exercise reminds me of that Great Silence, an epiphany I encountered around September 1969, 12 years after I got hooked on Zen Buddhism when I chanced upon a book in the air-conditioned school library, a Malayan first in 1957. I was just 12 at the time.
One of the earliest terms I came across that described the experience was 'Cosmic Consciousness' coined by Maurice Bucke.
More evocative perhaps is the Tibetan Buddhist (Vajrayana) Ground Luminosity.
Then there's the Chinese classic: The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao / The name that can be named is not the eternal name...
NTM the many Christian sources.
NTM the many Christian sources.
---
Richard Maurice Bucke
Richard Maurice Bucke (18 March 1837 – 19 February 1902), often called Maurice Bucke, was an important Canadian progressive psychiatrist in the late nineteenth century.
An adventurer in his youth, he went on to study medicine, practice psychiatry in Ontario, and befriend a number of noted men of letters in Canada, the U.S., and England.
In addition to writing and delivering professional papers, Bucke wrote three book-length studies: Man's Moral Nature, Walt Whitman, and – his best known work – Cosmic Consciousness, a classic in the modern study of mystical experience.
Here's a link to apparently all 36 chapters from the book, which is still in print:
This is an attempted scientific study of illuminated individuals. Bucke provides three dozen very consistent examples of 'cosmic consciousness.' Some of these are the usual suspects, ajavascript:void(0)nd others are contemporary case-histories which Bucke collected. Bucke proposed that these enlightened figures are evolutionary jumps, the predecessor of a more advanced species.
Ground luminosity (Wyl. gzhi'i 'od gsal) —
Sogyal Rinpoche writes:
Ground luminosity (Wyl. gzhi'i 'od gsal) —
Sogyal Rinpoche writes:
- In Dzogchen the fundamental, inherent nature of everything is called the "Ground Luminosity" or the "Mother Luminosity." This pervades our whole experience, and is therefore the inherent nature of the thoughts and emotions that arise in our minds as well, although we do not recognize it...
- What happens at the moment of death, for everyone, is this: The Ground Luminosity dawns in vast splendor, and with it brings an opportunity for total liberation—if, and only if, you have learned how to recognize it.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 6 The Prison of the Self
Task: Attempt to escape
Around the time Descartes made known his famous edict 'I think, therefore I am', ... historians talk(ed) of 'an epidemic' of depression in Europe.
Oliver Cromwell, John Bunyan and John Donne were among its (famous) victims.
Cohen then quotes Death Be Not Proud by John Donne.
Depressed? Now all you need to do is find the cure, he cheerfully exhorts.
...
Around the time Descartes made known his famous edict 'I think, therefore I am', ... historians talk(ed) of 'an epidemic' of depression in Europe.
Oliver Cromwell, John Bunyan and John Donne were among its (famous) victims.
Cohen then quotes Death Be Not Proud by John Donne.
Depressed? Now all you need to do is find the cure, he cheerfully exhorts.
...
Cohen's erudite commentary runs all of two pages and compounds the issue, perhaps on purpose. He seems to concentrate on figures of the past, leaving out such famous depressives as Winston Churchill and Buzz Aldrin, the second man to set foot on the moon.
The UN's WHO (World Health Organization) has reason to predict that depression would be the third largest cause of death by 2020, following heart disease and cancer, since depressed people tend to feel suicidal. (Elsewhere I learned that viral diseases cause the greatest number of deaths worldwide)
I have been depressed on three separate occasions with varying degrees of severity and recovered from them in different ways. The last time I felt sufficiently unhappy to seek help was in 2003 after which I joined the local Catholic church.
Apparently the sense of isolation that Cohen refers to was a probable cause of my illness, for I have not had a return of the 'melancholy' since.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 5 My Three Favorite Animals
Task: Complete an innocuous looking survey using the imagination in order to try to find out a bit about the way our subconscious minds work.
On the face of it, you just have to choose your three favorite animals. But to make the most of the test, use pen and paper and write down a sentence or two explaining your reasons too.
---
And *drum roll* here we are...
On the face of it, you just have to choose your three favorite animals. But to make the most of the test, use pen and paper and write down a sentence or two explaining your reasons too.
---
And *drum roll* here we are...
My first favorite animal is the human because humans show the widest range of behavior and misbehavior - physical, emotional and mental - not the least being in possession of a great sense of humor WRT the absurdity of finding themselves "alive in some God's great, bright, sad, funny dream" ~ Seth / Jane Roberts.
My second favorite animal is a cat because a cat is quiet and independent if sometimes snooty; unless of course when it's on heat. Then it's time to get it neutered.
My third favorite animal is a dog because a dog is fun and friendly to have around though it can get really noisy and demanding: it all depends on the breed and circumstances I suppose.
Aha! Here's a bit of a trap that Cohen may have set for us, though he did drop a hint above, so I'm not going to reveal what he has to say.
Run the test yourself and then email me if you want to know what your choices and reasons say about yourself.
Though of course you retain the right to totally disagree with his reasoning.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 4 The Immortals
Task: Write (or at least start) a book.
... there exists already... a very simple way to preserve at least the most important thoughts in someone's head. And that immortality machine is called a book.
The main drawback with it is - even once it is published - the book still needs to be read.
And who can we rely on to do that after we are gone?
Jean Dutourd was one of 40 'intellectuals' of l'Academie Francaise whose members liked to call themselves 'The Immortals' ... those whose thoughts live on forever in books, achieving a kind of immortality.
... when unsure how to finish a book, Dutourd asked God to complete it for him, which He promptly did.
Robert Louis Stevenson once explained how his classic The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde came to be written. He obtained his ideas via dictation by "some mysterious other" while asleep and would then edit it into book form.
Cohen reports that this phenomenon is quite common and wonders "Hidden depths? Ghost writers? Or two different minds within one body?"
...
Ha! Start a book? This is where I've preempted Cohen. By at least a decade.
Here's the most recent of my many stories that were dictated by a discarnate source. Strangely enough the series seemed to start shortly after meeting See Foon's Lama when he visited her late 90s.
This one was prompted by an equally strange encounter in the Catholic church in Ipoh Garden when in 2003 I took a seat way back from a Divine Mercy service on a Friday afternoon.
A woman parishioner vanished and reappeared a few seconds later and I could see the front book holder and kneeler she had sat behind. I was not feverish, intoxicated, nor taking any medication at the time.
My Aunt's Bald Cat
When BC vanished from sight and reappeared a few seconds later, she nearly freaked out.
"Don't do that again, you twit, it was bad enough when you levitated last night!"
"You know very well what I'm talking about!" she almost screamed.
<I was only meditating...>
"Yeah, OK. But next time please do it somewhere else?"
My Aunt's Bald Cat
© Copyright 2011 by Shaoming Wang
Jean Dutourd (1920-2011) photographed in his "immortel" uniform in 2003 © AFP
Jean Dutourd defined himself as a “good for nothing”, and yet he was a member of the Académie française...
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 3 The Fallacy of the Lonely Fact
Task: Try testing someone's sense of randomness. Offer them a little bet.
You will toss a coin say 20 times, and if in that run it turns up tails four times in a row, you win. If not, they do.
...
...
Here's what I threw:
H T H H H H H H T H H T T H H T H H H T
As you can see, I got six heads in a row, two more than the wager required.
Here's what I found in the 'answer' section:
When it comes to runs of heads or tails, they are far more likely than we think... no more unlikely than not getting (them)... we seem to have a programmed-in tendency to see patterns in nature, even if there aren't any...
It is part of the human quest for meaning and purpose, our way to structure a universe that may well reflect the dance of energy, the play of randomness in the meaningless noise...
If you can get anyone to accept your wager, you should make a tidy profit 'in the long run'.
If you can get anyone to accept your wager, you should make a tidy profit 'in the long run'.
This reminds me of the tendency to see shapes in clouds that aren't really there. And how gossip and rumor go 'viral', to use a contemporary word.
This report about how "Smart phones foster dumb habits among pedestrians" may highlight a related phenomenon:
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 2 Identifying the Reptile
Task: Identify, and talk to, the reptile in your head
French psychologist G Clotaire Rapaille claims that "most of our decisions are not determined rationally at all, but are taken surreptitiously in the twilight zone of the brain" or as he puts it, 'the reptile mind' "operating in the background, without us being aware of it".
The Practice
Jot down your associations for the following:
(Remember that these are not adjectives describing the thing but other things you link with it)
...
Coffee reminds me of:
1 pleasant aroma of Nescafe
2 hot, black, sweet and shiny with the brown deep-fried dough beloved of many (though not me) for breakfast
3 ceramic mugs, cups and saucers; and insomnia if I had one too many.
The Car reminds me of:
1 My Mother The Car in the 60s TV sitcom series. The protagonist's mother reincarnated as an antique model that spoke.
2 My father's Peugeot 403 with the lovely gear shift on the steering column that I once drove without a license haha.
3 Seenivasagam brothers' huge impressive Cadillacs (red and white respectively) parked next to Ipoh Padang in the 50s.
Cigarettes remind me of:
1 the stink in my shirt upon exiting the cinema after a show (before the ban)
2 discarded stubs everywhere, in plant pots, streets, public loos etc
3 Lucky Strike that my father smoked before and after his first heart attack which led to the second whereupon he quit cold turkey.
Depending on how you count, I 'hit' two of Rapaille's codes spot on and another one perhaps partially.
1 pleasant aroma of Nescafe
2 hot, black, sweet and shiny with the brown deep-fried dough beloved of many (though not me) for breakfast
3 ceramic mugs, cups and saucers; and insomnia if I had one too many.
The Car reminds me of:
1 My Mother The Car in the 60s TV sitcom series. The protagonist's mother reincarnated as an antique model that spoke.
2 My father's Peugeot 403 with the lovely gear shift on the steering column that I once drove without a license haha.
3 Seenivasagam brothers' huge impressive Cadillacs (red and white respectively) parked next to Ipoh Padang in the 50s.
Cigarettes remind me of:
1 the stink in my shirt upon exiting the cinema after a show (before the ban)
2 discarded stubs everywhere, in plant pots, streets, public loos etc
3 Lucky Strike that my father smoked before and after his first heart attack which led to the second whereupon he quit cold turkey.
Depending on how you count, I 'hit' two of Rapaille's codes spot on and another one perhaps partially.
...
Rapaille’s mantra is “the reptilian brain always wins.”
Archetype Discoveries Worldwide was founded by Dr. G. C. Rapaille to provide answers to the question: Why do people do what they do?
Clotaire Rapaille - Reptilian Marketing, 10 min video from PBS and Crack This Code (GCR session in Bangalore, India)
There are dissenting voices to be heard.
There are dissenting voices to be heard.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Mind Games: Week 1 Influencing the Reptile Mind - Day 1 Words
Task: Spend all day trying to think for yourself.
But already, we're off to a bad start! These words you are now reading, whose are they?
Whose is that voice in your head? Yours or mine?
When you hear someone speak, the words remain theirs - to be ignored or disagreed with as you choose. But somehow to read someone's thoughts is to allow them, however temporarily, to take over the language centres of your brain. For as long as you are caught up in what they say, the writer becomes your inner voice.
Does that mean that, for a moment, the writer becomes the reader?
Or does it mean instead that, for a moment, the reader becomes the writer?
...
...
I can imagine the go-getting Type A personalities spluttering over this question.
"Of course I remain myself, what else could I be?" Su might well retort. "What a stupid question!"
My experience tells me that the everyday, familiar 'I, myself' is no more than a process upon what we now know as the Third Rock from the Sun. Here's what I mean.
I used to travel by 'mini-buses' in the Klang Valley 80s and 90s since they were cheap, convenient and ubiquitious. One ordinary morning I hopped on one to find that all the seats were taken, so I set myself upon the steel rail separating the driver from the passengers, facing the back of the bus as I did so.
For perhaps ten seconds or so, I had the curious realization that I was looking at 'versions of myself' even as I knew that the passengers were ordinary commuters like myself.
This strange experience turned up again at a mall a few days later, though the crowd this time was rather more dispersed and moving around.
Perhaps I'm a little 'cuckoo' to use the popular term, but I do not think that I would plot deliberately to harm anyone, since I should then be harming myself.
By sheer chance (again!) here's what turned up in today's StarTwo of Star: The people's paper:
"We actually are Earth. We really, really are just animated bits of the Earth's crust, so to talk about us and the Earth is wrong."
Mind Games: 31 Days to Rediscover Your Brain by Martin Cohen
It was by sheer chance that I stumbled upon the unwrapped volume on one of MPH Bookstore's book 'islands' in Kinta City.
When I told See Foon about it later the next day, she emailed back within half-an-hour:
Do buy the book and do the exercises for the month and give me a blow by
blow account......I'll be interested......might even make a lovely article in the (Ipoh) Echo.
Here are links to two reviews if you want to know more about the book's contents and organization.
The second reviewer makes perhaps a valid complaint about the book's organization here.
Monday, February 28, 2011
It's all relative, innit?
Yawning away, I am unable to sleep, even though I had not taken any caffeinated drinks the whole day. And as I write this at 3 am Monday 28, strains from Vivaldi's Four Seasons are running through my mind. That slow movement was in turn brought about while reminiscing over my 5 or 6 years with one of the most interesting Englishmen I had ever met.
He was the one who introduced me to Vivaldi, whose musical harmonies I found rather quaint at first, having heard the more robust orchestral pieces by Beethoven, Mozart and Schubert years earlier. But I soon got used to the lighter tones of chamber music.
Maurice Hardstaff turned up in my life sometime in 1968. After an abortive 1st stab at work in KL after college, I returned to Ipoh and found work with a small architectural practice Apparently a major client had plans for an exciting urban renewal project and my employer recommended his London-based professor as consultant.
He was a tall, large man with a light complexion, straw colored hair and blue-grey eyes set closer than is the norm. Those deep-set eyes, with a long narrow nose and large jaw clamped on a pipe, could have been a formidable sight to many locals, even if you ignored his large waistline! But he was cloaked in an almost palpable aura of kindness and gentleness; and that, coupled with a typical English politeness and friendly smiling face, soon made him friends with ease.
But why the reverie, you might ask.
Alex had earlier SMSd, wondering, "For some reasons, I attract people with obsessive tendencies. Why ah?"
I neglected to reply, since I had been inspired for the last 10 days or so to hew even closer to the monk-like lifestyle I sometimes claim to have adopted. But I had already jotted down the following:
Ah so, when you point to someone, please find 3 fingers pointing back at yourself. ~ Ancient Chinese saying.
And when she made the expected phone call, I muttered my excuses and read it out to her.
She asked, "So, am I obsessive?"
In reply I trotted out my stock quote, "You create your own reality... etc," and suggested that her friends might have such saving grace as a sense of humor about themselves.
Her query must have been the trigger that brought memories of Hardstaff, who when I think about it, could be considered obsessive in many ways. Being the callow youth I then was, and eager to learn from a foreign architect, I must have shoved those observations aside. Besides, I'd never been, and remain, non-judgmental about people.
He kept his pencils, fountain pen and ruler at equidistant spaces apart, much like this: !!!|, you get the idea. He would ask for a regular short spray of orchids to be placed on his desk: but only in a cylindrical glass with blooms only in white. Hey wait, there's more.
Before his arrival in Ipoh, he had been sending sketches of his proposal for a church, a project that my Protestant boss had decliined to get involved with, saying that "the final sacrifice had already been made." (He was of course disagreeing with the need for the Catholic altar.) Those drawings made by his London students were the most exquisitely accurate ink drawings I had ever seen: every meeting of 2 or more lines ended 'spot-on', if you know what I mean.
I was quite astounded by their almost poetic quality, all drawn by hand.
Later on, when I was employed by Hardstaff, I rose to the demands of the extremely high standards he set. But it was a no-brainer decision, as they say nowadays. His warm, ever polite manner and ready wit made working under him bearable, and I remember that he once gave an instruction that could not be taken seriously. But since it was the next thing to be done in the course of the day's work, I couldn't possibly refuse!
But getting back to Alex's query, I did suggest that being obsessive could well be one of many ways of getting to one's goals.
"Bill Gates is known to be obsessive," I reminded her. And I recall Steve Jobs' perfectionist tendencies and the 'reality distortion field' he is (in)famous for. Then there are the innumerable inventors who toil on their pet projects for years.
I suppose that being obsessive is one way to take control of one's physical environment and assure oneself a measurable degree of mental stability, especially in these highly competitive times. It's only when this drive for 'perfection' - whatever that means - becomes a compulsive disorder that it creates difficulties for the affected person as well as for friends.
"It's all relative, Alex," I quipped, quoting my lawyer friend and primary school class mate Chew. "Remember always to separate the person from the obsession, and don't let it get to you."
As for my apparently chance encounter with that complex mystic, a major influence on me, I can only offer a quote from one of my fave metaphysical writings:
We were only "... keeping appointments long forgotten."
What do you say?
He was the one who introduced me to Vivaldi, whose musical harmonies I found rather quaint at first, having heard the more robust orchestral pieces by Beethoven, Mozart and Schubert years earlier. But I soon got used to the lighter tones of chamber music.
Maurice Hardstaff turned up in my life sometime in 1968. After an abortive 1st stab at work in KL after college, I returned to Ipoh and found work with a small architectural practice Apparently a major client had plans for an exciting urban renewal project and my employer recommended his London-based professor as consultant.
He was a tall, large man with a light complexion, straw colored hair and blue-grey eyes set closer than is the norm. Those deep-set eyes, with a long narrow nose and large jaw clamped on a pipe, could have been a formidable sight to many locals, even if you ignored his large waistline! But he was cloaked in an almost palpable aura of kindness and gentleness; and that, coupled with a typical English politeness and friendly smiling face, soon made him friends with ease.
But why the reverie, you might ask.
Alex had earlier SMSd, wondering, "For some reasons, I attract people with obsessive tendencies. Why ah?"
I neglected to reply, since I had been inspired for the last 10 days or so to hew even closer to the monk-like lifestyle I sometimes claim to have adopted. But I had already jotted down the following:
Ah so, when you point to someone, please find 3 fingers pointing back at yourself. ~ Ancient Chinese saying.
And when she made the expected phone call, I muttered my excuses and read it out to her.
She asked, "So, am I obsessive?"
In reply I trotted out my stock quote, "You create your own reality... etc," and suggested that her friends might have such saving grace as a sense of humor about themselves.
Her query must have been the trigger that brought memories of Hardstaff, who when I think about it, could be considered obsessive in many ways. Being the callow youth I then was, and eager to learn from a foreign architect, I must have shoved those observations aside. Besides, I'd never been, and remain, non-judgmental about people.
He kept his pencils, fountain pen and ruler at equidistant spaces apart, much like this: !!!|, you get the idea. He would ask for a regular short spray of orchids to be placed on his desk: but only in a cylindrical glass with blooms only in white. Hey wait, there's more.
Before his arrival in Ipoh, he had been sending sketches of his proposal for a church, a project that my Protestant boss had decliined to get involved with, saying that "the final sacrifice had already been made." (He was of course disagreeing with the need for the Catholic altar.) Those drawings made by his London students were the most exquisitely accurate ink drawings I had ever seen: every meeting of 2 or more lines ended 'spot-on', if you know what I mean.
I was quite astounded by their almost poetic quality, all drawn by hand.
Later on, when I was employed by Hardstaff, I rose to the demands of the extremely high standards he set. But it was a no-brainer decision, as they say nowadays. His warm, ever polite manner and ready wit made working under him bearable, and I remember that he once gave an instruction that could not be taken seriously. But since it was the next thing to be done in the course of the day's work, I couldn't possibly refuse!
But getting back to Alex's query, I did suggest that being obsessive could well be one of many ways of getting to one's goals.
"Bill Gates is known to be obsessive," I reminded her. And I recall Steve Jobs' perfectionist tendencies and the 'reality distortion field' he is (in)famous for. Then there are the innumerable inventors who toil on their pet projects for years.
I suppose that being obsessive is one way to take control of one's physical environment and assure oneself a measurable degree of mental stability, especially in these highly competitive times. It's only when this drive for 'perfection' - whatever that means - becomes a compulsive disorder that it creates difficulties for the affected person as well as for friends.
"It's all relative, Alex," I quipped, quoting my lawyer friend and primary school class mate Chew. "Remember always to separate the person from the obsession, and don't let it get to you."
As for my apparently chance encounter with that complex mystic, a major influence on me, I can only offer a quote from one of my fave metaphysical writings:
We were only "... keeping appointments long forgotten."
What do you say?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Kali festival on the cards
This morning being quite cool, I visited her abode in Sg Pari and was surprised to learn from the 1st Mrs Kumar - her name's Selvi - that the 1st week of March should mark the start of a festival celebrating the Mother Goddess.
She did not seem quite clear about the dates but from what I gathered, there would be a short weekend of festivities involving a goat sacrifice. A couple of weeks later, devotees would throng another temple dedicated to Kali down Jalan Sg Pari opposite the Buntong Police Station. With a climactic finish at the 'male' temple dedicated to Muneshwar just a stone's throw away.
"That seems to coincide with my birthday next month. Are the temples within walking distance?" I could hardly believe this dramatic news: I made this 2nd visit on just a whim.
"That seems to coincide with my birthday next month. Are the temples within walking distance?" I could hardly believe this dramatic news: I made this 2nd visit on just a whim.
"They are just 20 minutes away if you walk briskly!" Selvi challenged.
When I returned from my trek down Jalan Sg Pari, I was not surprised to see Kumar, having been told by Selvi that he would usually drop by mornings.
Apparently he's no longer trancing as deeply as he used to. The reason? He's had a toe removed a year ago, a necessary operation brought about by diabetes. He grumbled about it to Kali who reminded him to take care of his bodily health.
One benefit, if one could call it that, to visitors who seek Kali's advice is that the Mother Goddess now speaks in English through Kumar while he remains in a light trance.
"She's right beside him," Selvi reassured me. "It's just that no one is able to see her."
"People come for help from Penang to Johor Bahru and Singapore, and from as far away as England," Kumar confirmed. "They write emails to the temple address."
"How do people know of Kali's power and chrisma?" I asked.
"By word of mouth, from references by grateful people who have benefited from Amma's advice and guidance. Wayward children have reformed, got on with their studies and prospered. And needless to say, we all have to exercise patience in the face of life's adversities."
"Ah, so her power remains undiminished since I first met you in the '80s. I wonder if I may introduce a friend who seems unsure of her future direction."
"By all means, just give me a call, and I would be ever willing to help," Kumar empathized. "When she turns up, I'll need to know her date of birth for a start."
"Thank you Kumar for your kind offer. I shall try to arrange a meeting later."
With that, we said goodbye. He hopped on his motor-bike and shot off.
The equally mild-mannered Selvi proceeded, with the help of an assistant, to push her 3-wheeled cart up the short slope out of the temple grounds: she sells iced drinks at the nearby school.
Another world, that of the WWW and computer games, exists at the cyber cafe where I write this. But you may not encounter there the serenity and contentment of those who live quite simply with Kali for companionship, down in that quiet lane in the shadow of Sg Pari Tower.
Apparently he's no longer trancing as deeply as he used to. The reason? He's had a toe removed a year ago, a necessary operation brought about by diabetes. He grumbled about it to Kali who reminded him to take care of his bodily health.
One benefit, if one could call it that, to visitors who seek Kali's advice is that the Mother Goddess now speaks in English through Kumar while he remains in a light trance.
"She's right beside him," Selvi reassured me. "It's just that no one is able to see her."
"People come for help from Penang to Johor Bahru and Singapore, and from as far away as England," Kumar confirmed. "They write emails to the temple address."
"How do people know of Kali's power and chrisma?" I asked.
"By word of mouth, from references by grateful people who have benefited from Amma's advice and guidance. Wayward children have reformed, got on with their studies and prospered. And needless to say, we all have to exercise patience in the face of life's adversities."
"Ah, so her power remains undiminished since I first met you in the '80s. I wonder if I may introduce a friend who seems unsure of her future direction."
"By all means, just give me a call, and I would be ever willing to help," Kumar empathized. "When she turns up, I'll need to know her date of birth for a start."
"Thank you Kumar for your kind offer. I shall try to arrange a meeting later."
With that, we said goodbye. He hopped on his motor-bike and shot off.
The equally mild-mannered Selvi proceeded, with the help of an assistant, to push her 3-wheeled cart up the short slope out of the temple grounds: she sells iced drinks at the nearby school.
Another world, that of the WWW and computer games, exists at the cyber cafe where I write this. But you may not encounter there the serenity and contentment of those who live quite simply with Kali for companionship, down in that quiet lane in the shadow of Sg Pari Tower.
I'll confirm the festival details later but meanwhile here's a link to the temple locations.
 |
| Lord Muneshwar resplendent in his temple |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)