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Tokyo, May 10, 2013 Even though the digital age has hit us hard in the last few years and even though I have been trying my best to keep up with technology, there is something about bookstores that’s just addictive to me. I can spend hours browsing around in a bookstore and to me that’s probably the most fulfilling me-time ever. And so I struggle in countries where bookstores are nowhere to be found such as China. Guess what? I feel completely at home in Tokyo. Tokyo is not short of giant bookstores like Kinokuniya but what makes me fall in love with this city are the quaint little bookstores which can be found on every street corner, especially at high traffic areas to and from the subways. Call me old-fashioned. I love the feeling of flipping the paper pages. And I still carry a small paper notebook and a pen around to take notes of the interesting observations, thoughts, ideas, concepts I come across every day in life. In some places, people think you’ve just come out of the Stone Age. Yet in Tokyo, it’s like coming home. People carry their books around. People get into meetings with paper notes and pens. No phones, no tablets, no digital gadgets on the meeting tables, and no checking your smart screens every 5 seconds. What’s better than having your true presence for someone just for one moment? When you are there, that moment is eternity…. #perspective #mindfulness #Tokyo #life #digitalage #bookstore

It was 8:00PM on a small lane way near Tameike-sanno station. After a fulfilling sashimi dinner at Kitokito, a small tucked-away restaurant in the same area, I decided to take a walk and get some fresh air. After all, the weather has been very accommodating for this tropical person. I spotted several men-in-black waiting in line in front of a vending machine. Well, there were buttons and thumbnail images but I could not seem to locate any products. Tokyo itself is overloaded with convenience. Every 100 meters I seem to find a convenient something, if not convenient stores then drink vending machines or cigarette vending machines. This vending machine, however, does not seem to fall into any of those categories. Imagination ran wild…. What could it be? Newspapers? Bit late for that. Condoms? Bit too outrageous for a skin-deep conservative society I guess. As I walked closer, the images became clearer. Noodle! A variety of noodle…. First you slot the money in; select which noodle you want; then get your receipt and change. There is a tiny noodle bar next door with a Japanese-size entrance where you can walk in, hand over the receipt at the counter and pick up your noodle. No words spoken. No interaction required. No mistakes possibly made. The noodle can stay silent as people immerse in their own world. I ask myself whether people are swallowing their past or chewing on their future because at this very moment, there is no present, no presence. You may as well replace that guy at the counter handing out bowls of noodle tonight with a black-suit robot. You never know! Where do we go from here? Is silence the answer to this solitary world of ours? #silent #world #present #perspective #presence #mindfulness #Tokyo #life

Tokyo, May 08, 2013 10Am: out of the hotel walking to the conference center. Hardly see anyone on the street. Once in a while I spot a man in black. 12:30PM: out of the conference center walking down the street looking for a lunch spot. Groups of men in black are on the way to or from their lunch venues. I notice that most restaurants in the area are set up for a in-and-out lunch fix. 1PM we get into a Japanese noodle house. Groups of men in black fill the tables. The menu looks fantastic but I am told it’s not for lunch. Lunch is a quick fix and you can either choose from 2 mains or 4 noodles. Soba it is then. 1:30PM: back to the conference center. I ask Ichiro why he thinks a group setting is better for our introduction tomorrow. “Japanese like group energy”, says Ichiro. “we do badly at the olympics in any single competition and always do significantly better in any team competition. Don’t you notice that?”. “So all these men will turn up in black tomorrow I guess?”, I ask. “Definitely!”, Ichiro answers. “No one wants to stand out.” 4PM we go down to Tully’s coffee. Men in black either sit by themselves working on their computers or sit in groups discussing business. The place is full. 6PM I walk past a Star Bucks on the way back to the hotel. Men in black fill the place. 8PM I take the Ginza subway line to Ginza. Tons of men in black are on-board. They must be the early batch leaving the office. 9:30PM I take the Ginza line back to the hotel. Men in black hurry on and off at very station. Every single one of them is on their smart phone. No one looks up. Wonder if any of them spot a smile on my face?!? 9:39PM I get off at Ginza station. Surprise, surprise! Men in black pour in from every exit hurrying somewhere. Spring is in the air, but black seems to put Japan in the right order…. #people #energy #meninblack #Tokyo #life #ginza #japan #group

Coming from the chaotic, hustle bustle cities of Melaka and Saigon, it’s been 12 hours since I landed in Tokyo and yet I have not seemed to get used to such organized-to-the-teeth environment here. What an efficient society! Everything is carefully thought out. Everyone plays their parts. Infrastructures are well-built. “What difference does it make?”, you ask. Man-made cities all start to look the same to me. But people never do! Not once have I been disappointed in the last 12 hours with anyone I get in contact with. The customs officer smiles and crackes jokes. How unusual! all the taxi drivers are so polite, so honorable in their manner. The hotel staff are so dedicated to deliver the best service from their heart. The traffic police is so kind and walks me across the street. The security guard at Suntory Art Museum kindly makes sure I got to the right hotel. All are so polite, so humble, and so warm-hearted. Is this for real? Forget all the political bullshits. When it comes down to normal people and normal lives, this is where I feel at home. Don’t know whether the next few days will change my perception of Japan but for now, to me, it is the “Land of the Kind-Hearted”. It is chilly in Tokyo with the left-over of winter wind but it is warmth that keep me walking tonight…. #kindness #perspective #love #Tokyo #life #japan

Saigon, May 05, 2013 The first time I met him was a few months ago at the Lingnan painting class. Saigon is my refuge after long trips and it is home to my artistic spirit. Mind you! It’s definitely not the most admiring side of me. I would never become an artist, but I am head over heels with the unconditional, un-biased, non-judgemental love our master has for us. It seems natural to him. “No table!” we say it in Vietnamese, meaning “there’s no argument about it”. Silly Vietnamese and our language. Master has done this all his life and he is solely 83 years of age. But this is not about my master. It’s about Chung, a 19-year-old kid (Sometimes I have to pull my wandering self back on track). Chung was sitting by himself, away from the noisy bunch of us students, minding his own business when I caught sight of him. His whole posture paints a lonely, life-beaten, lost, and frightened mood and feel to the corner. If I could ever paint that scene, I would probably name it “Trapped”. Why on earth would someone look that miserable? Through sporadic conversations with Master and a few classmates, I learn that Chung is living in a pagoda managed by his Uncle cum Spiritual Master. That does not feel right. How could one be spiritually liberated or enlightened as some call it in such a miserable-looking body? And so I take the whole class out for lunch this time I’m back and intentionally sit next to him. Chung is a super shy kid. He does not seem to know what to say or how to open a conversation. As we get acquainted, He starts opening up and telling me about his life. Chung has been living with his uncle in the pagoda since he was little. His father moves to Taiwan to work and sends his mom some money now and then to support the family. Mom has always been a housewife and as such could not raise him up with the limited financial support from his father. Though he goes to school during the day, his duty is book-keeping for the pagoda and thus he has to be there day in day out to receive and reconcile money offerings by visitors. Just like that he grows up and becomes a lonely shadow, performing his silent duty. He is extremely gifted when it comes to Lingnan art and at one point Master has thought about passing on the teaching duty to him as the key disciple of Lingnan school in Vietnam. The kid is lost. His uncle wants him to become a monk and takes on the duty to manage the pagoda. He is definitely not there, yet feeling obligated to do so to pay respect to Uncle’s up-bringing. And there he is, stuck in between debt and life, passion and duty, future and past…. I gave him a painting book as a gift with a small note, “Hope you find peace and joy in art and hope to see you utilize your gift in Lingnan to help others around you.” As I was waiting to board the flight tonight, his sms came in. “Thank you sister. I now know there are others in the world who care about me. I will continue to improve in art and there will be a painting waiting for you when you return.” Sometimes, that’s all you need in life. #art #lingnan #vietnam #love #life

At times we get all upset about life being unfair, that some are better off and we haven’t got what we deserve… As I walked along Jonker Walk one night, I couldn’t help but staring at an average-looking lady, both hands and forearms cut off, yet tying a brush around her right-hand elbow with a wristband, writing Chinese calligraphy. With special interest in Chinese calligraphy, I decided to take a closer look. It turned out that she was writing calligraphy for a living and you could choose to make a donation as soon as you get your requested calligraphy sorted out. As I approached the table, she asked me for my full name. Curious enough, I wrote down my full name and passed it on to her. She took out a nice A4 piece of paper with flower decor along the borders and started writing what I found out later a 4-verse poem with each word in my full name as the starting word of each verse. To my dismay, it was a beautifully written poem reflecting the meaning of my Chinese name. I was speechless. Such talent! Such life! The poem is now framed and finds its place in my study as a precious gift from life…. #calligraphy #melaka #mallaca #perspective #life

Thought about a dear friend while cruising Melaka river and hope he keeps living in mindfulness. Here’s to a friend who has been seeking himself for as long as I’ve known him. I’ve walked the endless roads To look for myself Only to have found a suffering garden Arising from seeds of misery… Sitting here this morning I have found myself In the embracing morning rays In the passing gusts of wind In the silent earth In the trembling raindrops In mindfulness In the nameless universe… #friend #melaka #mallaca #meditation #perspective #love #mindfulness

It was a burning hot afternoon when my little brother Patrick and I took on the mission to find Melaka Art Gallery where there are supposed to be 150 excellent paintings of all ages. It shows on the tourist map that the gallery is only a stone’s throw away from Xavier church. Under the brutal sunlight of Melaka, we walk, bare-headed. The further we walk, the more desserted it becomes. “That does not feel right”, I told Patrick. “We either took the wrong turn or art is dead in this quaint little town”. To mark my words, a sign appears in grafitti right before our eyes and it says “Art Gallery”, with a little crooked arrow pointing upwards. We both stop, look up and stand there motionless for a while. It’s a long, lonely, narrow stairway leading up to no where. And so up we walk, without a distant idea of what we may find. There is a weather-beaten, moss-covered wall on the right and to the left a few miserable looking old tombs. As we walk along the stairway up onto the un-known, the picture paints an eery, trapped, and vulnerable atmosphere to the place. We stood right there at the entrance where it says “Art Gallery” in grafitti, No one is around. Lying carelessly are bags of garbage, a few damaged chairs and piles of dead leaves. Dust of memories calls it home. Lime-light of the bygone can hardly be seen. Nothing is permanent in this world. As we walk down the stairway back to the un-known, a few words come to my mind: I walk the endless road To look for nowhere And so the shadows found Up along the stairs… #art #melaka #mallaca #gallery #perspective

The Outdoor Zoo April 28 is just another summer day at Melaka zoo, except that it is a long weekend and people are eagerly taking time out to entertain themselves. To Leo the Lion, today sooner or later shall become yesterday. How much longer can one entertain oneself? It’s scorching hot. Leo lies motionless with half an eye open. One after another, couples and groups, walk past his cell. Some look without seeing. Some look just for the sake of looking. Some do not even bother. If at all more fascinating, some snap numerous photos just to post on facebook. Even worse, some shake their heads feeling all sorry for the trapped, old, worn-out lion being deprived of its basic animal rights. One thing is common and crystal clear. No one is here, now. All Leo can see are faces of anger, anxiety, misery, fear, loss, and confusion. “What a zoo out there!”, Leo thinks to himself. “It’s not a bad idea staying in-door, inside this peaceful island of mine”. #lion #philosophy #melaka #mallaca #zen #perspectives #life #zoo

Melaka river cruise – everyone talks about it on-line and off-line. It is a bit over-rated. You call a ferry that take you along the smelly Melaka river a river cruise? Well, you get to see grafitti on some houses along the river. The highlight, however, is seeing hundreds of globe drifters, the noisy Melaka night birds, travel back to their tree homes in families and groups. Family comes to mind upon the moody sunset. #globedrifters #mallaca #melaka #rivercruise

The first impression of Melaka is that of a small quiet town where the locals can smell the non-locals from afar. First cultural shock, “Registered taxis do not have meters. Only free-lance taxis do”. So I am told by the security guard look-alike standing at the taxi registeration counter right inside Melaka Sentral station. The best part of this taxi ride, however, is to find out that the taxi driver is 70 years of age and this job is his hobby #mallaca #melaka #travel