One fine morning last week, I had just enjoyed an equally fine breakfast of crunchy gourmet museli in smooth strawberry yogurt when this hungry little fly came a'buzzing and settled itself down into the empty bowl. I was on the verge of shooing it away instinctively when my fledging photograper-sensibilites kicked in and screamed,
"PHOTO-OP!"
I sprinted to my room, grabbed the camera and raced back to the dining table. Thankfully it was still blissfully foraging about by the side of the bowl. I took one shot and it fled the scene. The photo-op was over.
I think everyone possesses numerous 'instinctive' behaviors that are exhibited frequently with nary a thought. Some of these might probably be classified as prejudices. Sadly, no one naturally gravitates towards perceiving themselves as (gasp!) unenlightenedly prejudiced.
Judgment of shortcomings and/or traits of others (whether existant or otherwise) has unfortunately become a convenient and speedy method of self-validation. Acceptance of a fellow human being is contingent upon similarity while diversity and all its accompanying richness is a disdainful nemesis to be crushed.
What can you possibly lose in embracing others with differing worldviews and vaster horizons? But more importantly, what can you possibly gain in contentedly admiring what your own vision limits you to?
Operas are the original dramatic weepy soaps. The difference is operas last about 3 hrs (which includes a thoughtful 20 min intermission to stretch, sprint to the washrooms, and/or purchase more tissue paper), while modern-day soaps string hypnotized viewers along for months or years while brain-washing them into bi-polar depression and into accepting impossible standards of attractiveness.
That's one of the reasons why I've not watched television for years now; but I will gladly attend an opera. And last night, I did.
'Le nozze di Figaro ossia la folle giornata', better known to English-speaking audiences as 'The Marriage of Figaro' is a comic opera by W. A. Mozart that was first performed in 1786. The premise is built upon the very real and human emotions of love and lust, honor and deceit, power and submission, jealousy and forgiveness. In a rather obese nutshell, boy loves girl and girl loves boy, but boy's boss likes girl, while boss's wife pines for him; boss's servant likes boss's wife while evil woman likes boy and plots to steal him from girl. The journey of the lovers is littered with subterfuge and shady plans as each character tries to outwit each other in order to attain their own desires while upholding a virtous facade.
200 years on and we haven't really changed much, have we? I dare say this is how we've always been from the beginning; just read the book of Genesis to find out.
Being a comedy, the outcome of 'The Marriage of Figaro' is fortunately sweet and maybe even trite, but we are uplifted by the overwhelming power of love and forgiveness in the delightful 3 hours of song and drama.
'The Marriage of Figaro' ended its successful 4-night run yesterday at the Esplanade Theater. The competent cast included Nancy Yuen, Rachelle Gerodias, Andrew Fernando and Teppei Kono as the title character Figaro. They were complimented by the Singapore Lyric Opera Chorus and the Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Lim Yau.
For everything else you'd ever want to know about this popular opera, click here.
It's official. Singaporeans are the least happy people in Asia.
The Straits Times relegated a small strip in its 'World' segment for this not-especially-revelatory news. Out of a total of 178 nations that were surveyed, our prosperous little island nation of eternal summer came in 131st, the lowest of all Asean and Asian nations ranked.
When one has been accorded much, you'd always expect and desire more. The problem is that more is never quite enough; that's just how homosapians are in general. The irony of our keenly cultivated worldview is that we doggedly and desperately cling onto tangible materialism and achievement to be the glittering key to our happiness and well-being; but we never ever arrive at our intended Nirvana.
So let's take stock of what we've been striving towards and breathe in the fragrance of the proverbial roses, shall we? Contentment is an acquired discipline afterall, not a natural state of being.
That's perhaps too important a truth to ever forget.
Even the most rabidly-ardent of cat-lovers have to admit that the felines they adore unquestioningly can be inscrutably annoying at times.
Gemma has one such habit which drives me up the wall. As far as cats go, she is not known for her affection or need for much attention. She pretty much keeps her dainty white paws to herself and appears perfectly content to do so; except during one specific occasion.
When she sees me putting my socks and shoes on (which is when I'm preparing to head out), THAT'S when she decides she wants to play. She'll do the circle 8s cats are famous for and use her emerald green eyes to great pleading effect. I always have to harden my heart and give her a quick pat on the head and scratch under the chin before dashing out the front door.
It's not like she doesn't know what happens when the sock/shoe routine occurs. I wonder if she's doing it with devious intention (oh well, she probably is)? Or maybe she thinks I might go MIA again for another 5 years?
We can't really communicate, Gemma and I. I lack the intellect to understand Meowish, and Gemma wouldn't debase herself to learn human speech. So we can only hazard a guess at each other's intentions through non-verbal cues such as baring of fangs and vehement hissing. She usually gets the picture when I do that.
So it's really no excuse, then, for us humans to not be able to communicate effectively with each other when we have, at our disposal, a vast ocean of words to select from. Yet, so much remains unspoken and misunderstood, even with those we profess to hold near and dear to our very hearts.
Why are the right words always so reluctant to fall from our lips when they should simply flow from honesty and love?
Cats are known to speak only for very precise reasons; no more and no less. Do they know something about commnication that we don't? Maybe they're more than just a walking ball of fluff after all.
This is a common weed that's found nearly everywhere. It's a tall and slender plant that grows in grassy areas and can be usually seen spiking from the greenary beside roads and paths.
When meandering home yesterday, I decided to take a macro shot of the tiny bloom that grows atop the gangly stem. It took me several tries because the dratted weed sways mockingly in even the slightest breeze.
Upon downloading the picture when I got home, it occured to me how unexpectedly beautiful this oft-overlooked and maybe despised weed can be when contemplated in the best light and angle.
There is beauty found everywhere; even in the most unusual of places then! We just have to condition our eyes and mind to pierce beneath the mundane and obvious; and to deliberately cast the best light onto our subject. How else can we fervently hold fast to hope when the going gets rough, or unconditionally believe in the inherent goodness of even our worst oppressors?
Oh, how much growing do we ourselves need to first do in order to come to that eden!
The next time I see this little weed, I will remember its quiet but powerful reminder to make time for stillness with God in my maddening cycle of being; and to humbly let those moments heal my fractured spirit and weary heart.