!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> Past. Present. Future: August 2007

Past. Present. Future

Sunday, August 19, 2007

short

“And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” Genesis 2:7

he gives life. n so he takes it away.

my bunkmate’s dad died from an accident 2 days ago. just came back from the wake today. wad struck me was the suddeness of it all. it cd have been me. was my first reaction. then it realli hit home. life realli is short. today may veri well haf been the veri last time i wd see my dad, or any loved one for dat matter. in fact, no one can confidently say dat he/she will still b living tomorrow. it all sounds dam depressing i noe, but i’ve come to accept dis after seeing wad just happened. our lives r so fragile, so transient.

i guess dats where the whole debate of science n religion comes in. life after death n all. n i’m reminded of one of the occasions when a priest posed dis challenge to us during his homily. “if u were told dat u were given one more week to live, wad wd u do?”

its a scary thought. but st francis was asked dis veri same question n he a veri simple n inspiring answer. “why wd my last day b any different, if i haf lived each day as though it were my last?”

amen.

alvin ong dozed and watched the sawdust trampled night @ 9:54 PM 

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

step back

wondering wad the hell i’m doing here? i’m on bloc leave til aug 19. but i need to go back for guard duty on thurs. bleargh sianz.

i paid a visit to baba peter wee today. he owns dis shophouse along east coast rd called katong antique house. walking into his shop, which also doubles as a home, u get alitttle disoriented. cos u’re like stepping back into the past. u suddenly find urself surrounded by peranakan antique furniture, portraits, memorabilia n wad not. its as if time had stood still.

its a welcome place of solace into the past, away from the noise n hussle of the street. the walls r drenched in history, the shophouse being a hand-me-down from peter wee’s maternal grandmother. every face, furniture n every object tells a story. harking back to a time when katong was a quiet suburb, a place of recluse from the city. within walking distance of the coastline.

his house realli is a treasure trove of the past. n it doesn’t haf the museum feel. it all feels very homely n cosy. the place has a spirit, a soul u usually don’t find in ‘old’ places these days.

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sitting in a strategic corner n doing some sketches, i soaked in the atmosphere. peter wee n some of his guests n aunts were chatting away softly in baba malay. soft strains of peranakan folk music. complete wif all the eclectic furniture n old portraits staring down at u, its like living the past in the present. there’s a stillness in the place dats therapeutic, almost magical. almost fascinating. its realli an eye-opener.

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i left wif memories, some new friends, sketches, photos n 2 boxes of pineapple tarts haha. after reluctant goodbyes, n stepping out back into the 21st century, i feel as though i lived 2 eras in one day. which made me feel dats its realli great to keep looking forward. but its also equally important to remember the past.

alvin ong dozed and watched the sawdust trampled night @ 12:24 AM 

Friday, August 10, 2007

nat day post

A guardsman finally.

ns has strangely enuff, forced me to consider the nature of our aspirations, our dreams. or as coelho writes in the alchemist, our ‘personal legends’. my personal calling began the day i was blown away by the spirituality of the sji chapel. the day i was awed by the sheer majesty of gaudi’s creations. the day i drove pass the colonnade on holland rd n felt so refreshed.

i made a promise to myself; one day i hope to change the world by creating buildings wif more soul. something very habitable, artistic creations dat will put s’pore on the world map. but my stint in dp showed me dat building something is an art dat also veri much involves pple. so a building is not just one guy’s dream. its held up by many pillars. n these pillars represent the dreams of many people.

which made me wonder if i will eventually realize mine.

in ns, i saw the repetitiveness of office life in army regimentation. i saw dat in a grp, some pple stand out more than others. i was also physically n mentally tested, n i can’t say i always braved the currents. donning the khaki beret in my passing out parade for the first time, i began to wonder; wad does it mean to chase a dream?

is it a means to give our sojourn on earth some purpose, some meaning? n when we finally get there, wad next? there r many who say dat its the journey n not the end pt dats important. to me, the journey to getting the guards tab was a process of self-discovery. i was able to exercise my strengths, but i also made many mistakes. but as ns has taught me, the secret to life is to fall seven times n get up eight times. because once we overcome our obstacles, we r filled wif a greater sense of euphoria n confidence. dis gives added meaning to our dreams.

for a moment, i feel like santiago the shepherd boy on his way to the pyramids of egypt. at the end point he discovered dat he got so much more than he had hoped to achieve at the start. “life is really generous to those who pursue their dreams,” the boy thought to himself when he finally found his treasure.

perhaps wad we desire most in life is always there, waiting for us, perhaps the very next day. waiting for us in the place where we very least expected.

“Never stop dreaming,” the old king told santiago the shepherd boy. “Follow the omens.”

watching the kites soar round the floating stadium on tv yesterday, i told myself; Yes, dreams r truly beautiful.

Never stop dreaming. Indeed.

alvin ong dozed and watched the sawdust trampled night @ 2:37 PM