Monday, October 31, 2016

27-28/10/2016


On Thurday, I met Tim, Will, Neil, Emma and Kerry for vegan dinner, where I tried vegan mozzarella made of rice, laughed over Tim's tendency to spill things, listened again to Neil's story about how he, Tim and Will slept in Nigel's garden, and listened to a jazz band and poetry reading in the Downing Bar. I am now enraptured by the jazz song 'Misty' (Johnny Mathis, 1959)

On Friday, I thought my greatest discovery was going to be the fact that there is a place in Germany called Worms. But it turned out to be the discovery that you can pin large pieces of blue cloth to the ceiling of the coach house, as Alex and I did when we begun decorating it for our Neverland party tomorrow.

When we came out, I peered at the turned off light on the outside of the building, trying to see a switch so we could potentially turn it on for people who wanted to chat outside during the party. Suddenly, the light swung round and looked at us. Oh my we both skittered away, 'my tummy constricted' Alex said. A premature scare for a Halloween party.

30/10/2016



This morning I cycled to church and saw the moon, a pale white disk, behind the fog's curtain over castle hill.

Barely 5 minutes later I saw the sun through the mist over King's Parade. To see the sun and moon in the space of 5 minutes is a miracle, I think.

That sun is now setting at 4.34pm, and I am reminded of why I loathe winter.

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Four-ish things on running


1. The Iron Nun completely puts me to shame - 86 years old and doing triathlons. I'm going to remember her words when I run: 'One step at a time makes a marathon.' Amen.

2. I just ordered a pair of these leggings. Made under ethical conditions, fairtrade, each pair is made from 25 old plastic bottles (hooray for amazing upcycling!) and for the price of just shipping - count me in!

3. This video is lovely, and begins to express how many strange thoughts come into my head when I run.

4. I love love runner-writer-film-maker Alexi Pappas - read an interview she did here. (Also how does she run in a bun?! Gravity-defying)

4ish. I've been alternating between my old vomero 9 shoes and these new vomero 10 shoes, and it's funny what a difference shoes can make! The new ones are much lighter, and while occasionally my feet get sore in the 9s, that hasn't happened as yet in the 10s. I'm going to keep alternating, to save enough mileage in these ones for the actual half-marathon. (Yes! It's official! March 2017 here I come!)


4 ish-ish. My favourite running blog right now is rachaeldee.tumblr.com - she's a marathon runner and her positive inspiration and beautiful trail pictures just make me want to push myself and get outside!

4 ish-ish-ish. I ran this morning, through a very foggy Cambridge. I started off with Becky (we run Tuesday and Sunday mornings together) a warm up jog for about 6 km, then she finished but I kept on, speeding up a little to a cruising speed till I got to the Girton playground (my new secret discovery!) before I turned back, and sped up for the last couple of kilometers. My longest run yet!!!! And longest sustained timing/no breaks!!! Sundays have become my long-slow-sustained days, and I look forward to every Sunday, because since I got slow I have the reserve to go further, and breaking distance is just so fulfilling!!! I hope to break the 17km mark by the end of term.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Burgers and a healthy dose of thankfulness



On Sunday night I made black bean burgers, and ate them on Monday, the same dinner as last Monday when I sat round the table in Neil's kitchen with a group of friends, discussing environmental issues.

Before that we'd had our JustLove meeting, during which Neil made the burger mixture, and all of us burst out laughing when he turned round to make a point, but none of us could take him seriously because he was holding a black bean patty in one hand.

Although it takes up a fair share of time, I am ever so thankful for JustLove. The people are kind, the purpose is Jesus, and the overflow is love and justice. And some very good burgers. Sandwiched between a seeded bap, with ketchup on one side, smashed avocado on the other, and topped with lettuce and tomato (cucumber would be great too I think!) it's the best veggie burger I've made since I experimented with the okara leftover from Mum's soymilk making.

The recipe is adapted from this one, since I didn't have all the ingredients:

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 onion, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 carrots, shredded
1/4 cup quick oats
A couple shakes of soy sauce
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp cajun spice
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:
Combine onions, garlic, salt, and pepper and cook until onions are translucent.

Add carrots and spices and cook until carrots are tender.

Remove pan from heat.

In a bowl, mash the beans and then add the contents of the pan along with the soy sauce and quick oats.

Mix and form four patties. Place in freezer for 30 minutes to set. (I put them in a fridge over night and fried them the next day)

Fry patties over medium heat, flipping halfway.

Quick memory, weather and soft skin



I woke up at 5.47am this morning, feeling fresh but soaked in sweat. I don't know if it was my heater or a dream or just physiology but I went back to sleep.

The weather was 'FOG' this morning but I went running anyway, realising as I went that I need to get a headband or one of these days my ears are definitely going to fall off. In other words it was cold, and I took it easy.

I remember last week after leaving early from bible study on Friday (although it was late, 10.30pm) I looked up at the stars in the middle of the John's courtyard and they shone so bright, and I wanted so badly to tell someone 'it's a clear night! perfect for stargazing!' but I was loathe to peel off my gloves.

I'm obsessed with the sounds and the poetry (visual/verbal) of this short.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Four things about dancing


1. I went for an Ashtanga class yesterday with Andrea, which started off very fast, but as I got into the rhythm of stretching, bending, upward dog, downward dog, and always always the dance of breath and body, my mind settled.

'Great length,' and I sighed with my eyes closed and sunk deeper into the vinyasa.

2. A New York Crosswalk is transformed into a ballroom dance floor.

3. The afterlife of a ballerina.

4. J.T and Robert's dances on So You Think You Can Dance have completely captured my heart.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Tithing my time

(Un-thought-through post of something on my mind/something I need advice about)

Before JustLove's launch I was so anxious. I had to give a speech about Personal Stream, I needed to I wasn't very sure where the Church was (and I did initially end up going to a Catholic church instead of St Andrews Street Baptist Church) and  I had lots on my mind.

At the Launch, after all was over, food was set up, the talk was filmed, I'd said my bit, I had some time to talk to the people who had come. My last conversation was with Stephen. I asked him how he was doing, and his eyes crinkled into a smile and he told me, 'I've just been realising more and more how good God is, how kind God is.'

Such simple words, like the feeling I got in Pua, and I realised how much I wanted that. His face just radiated joy, when he talked about how he was finally beginning to understand how, despite the fact that many things like worship and church and leading prayer mornings were good, they were rubbish, completely and utterly, compared to the fullness of knowing Jesus Christ. He told me that he's heard God telling him quite clearly to let go of some commitments he had, such as leading his college's christian group, because it had become about himself and his pride. Instead, he spent 2 hours and 24 minutes a day with God, alone, reading his bible and praying.

I wanted that so badly.

This term has been a lot more intense that the last. On top of the weekly essay we did last term, we have more reading, translation work, more practical criticism work and dissertation work too. Because medieval literature is something I feel unfamiliar with (it really is a whole different world) I feel compelled to go to as many lectures as I feel are relevant, which means sometimes 3 a day, and then Just Love meetings, thursday prayer meetings, bible study writing, dissertation supervisions, essay supervisions, making sure I have food, Just Lunch, runs, theatre performances, social events, church and Focus bible studies....

Quite a large amount of my time is taken up doing 'corporate' christian things (church/para church) and because I also want to claim my life in other things I enjoy doing/feel responsible for (bad thing?human thing?) I find myself with little or no time each day to sit at Jesus feet alone and spend time with Him. Yesterday I tried to pray, and it reminded me of what happened when I arranged to have lunch with someone I don't know very well and I ended up using the wall decoration as a conversation starter.

I suppose I'm trying so hard this term, to keep afloat and to manage and to achieve. But something in me is telling me to let go of some things. Alex dropped out of one of her theatre performances yesterday, and used the spare rehearsal time to go to an art session in the coach house, where she made a painting of Virginia Woolf in blue.

What do I actually really want? 

- I want to have time to read my bible without the niggling thought of what I need to do next in my mind.

- I want to be able to greet Jesus like a close friend in prayer.

- I want to continue with JustLove, because I feel God there, I have community there, and my heart is constantly challenged to love and care and give more. It isn't always easy, and after yesterday's talk on sexual abuse I had very heavy boots, but it is something I am invested in and something I know has real meaning.

- I want more time to do a bloody good job on my dissertation, which is about mental illness in modernist literature and I really want it to be well-researched and written sensitively.

- I want to continue running regularly, because I feel so much joy and freedom (and also tiredness and good sorts of aches) when I do. A couple of days ago I discovered a adventure course/playground with rope swings and leap frog poles and balance beams that I really want to go to. On one run I saw the most gorgeous double rainbow.

- I want to have time to do spontaneous, miscellaneous things. One of my resolutions for this term was to be more spontaneous, but that's hard when you are constantly wrapped up in other things.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

15/10/2016 - Pumpkin Brownies and a Ceilidh



I was in Sainsburys last Sunday, and was just picking up a big bag of muesli when I heard a voice ask a Sainsburys assistant - 'Do you have pumpkin puree?'

He stopped his stacking momentarily, looked confused (pumpkin puree? what is that american invention?) and said, 'No'

'Lies,' I thought - I'd just picked up a can yesterday. But who was I, a stranger, to talk to another stranger, in a supermarket?

So I walked round to the cans of pumpkin puree at the end of the next aisle, picked one up, and speedily walked back to the girl who had asked for it. 'Here you go,' I said, and gave it to her, and went back to the museli.

Barely a minute later, I heard another voice ask the same Sainsburys assistant - 'Do you have pumpkin puree?'

And received the same answer. I must have not done that first round right, and so I changed my approach for this pumpkin-puree seeker. I went up and actually talked to a stranger - 'I couldn't help overhearing you were looking for pumpkin puree. I know where it is.'

I swear, the other people in the aisle must have thought by then that pumpkin puree was some sort of secret code.

But I brought the seeker to the pumpkin puree and then sped off, before I could be helpful to anyone else.

Anyway. The reason I knew where the pumpkin puree was was because I'd bought some myself. And what did I do with it? I made brownies, of course.

Chocolate Pumpkin-Pie Brownies
adapted from Chocolate Covered Katie

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup spelt flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
2 salt shaker grinds of salt
1 1/3 cup coconut sugar
1 cup pumpkin puree
6 tbsp almond oil (or vegetable/coconut oil)
4 tbsp almond or other plant milk
A handful of chopped dark chocolate

Whisk the dry ingredients together first, then add in the pumpkin, oil and plantmilk and chopped chocolate and stir till combined.

Bake in a preheated oven at 170 degrees for 23 minutes  for a fudgey brownie, and leave them in longer if you don't want them quite so moist.

Speaking of moist, in practical criticism class we did this poem by Thom Gunn, which brought to mind the word moist - a warm, wetness, with a sense of disgust and uncomfortablenss but also a strange attraction. Here's part of the poem:

You are a mound
of bedclothes, where the cat
in sleep braces
its paws against your
calf through the blankets,
and kneads each paw in turn.

Meanwhile and slowly
I feel a is it
my own warmth surfacing or
the ferment of your whole
body that in darkness beneath
the cover is stealing
bit by bit to break
down that chill.

'The ferment of you whole/body [...] beneath/the cover' I'm not sure if I've heard better words to describe the strange and comforting warm smelliness of a sleeping self.

The brownies where for Neil's 21st Birthday Ceilidh, which was the most wonderful end to the week. Stamping feet, clapping hands, whirling around with a partner and lots and lots of laughter and bumping into people. With my last dance partner, he first bumped the boy beside us with his shoulder and then I bashed into that same poor boy again when we were whirling, but there were no hard feelings - it's impossible to be angry or stressed or tired when you're at a ceilidh.

All the brownies were eaten apart from one little corner piece which my last dance partner had so I didn't have to carry it home - but because not all could fit in my lunch box I actually have 5 more little pieces sitting in my room. Oh my happy days.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

12/10/2016


I woke up today with pancakes on my brain. Perhaps because Nat had posted two pancake recipes in a row, and I had made a mixture of spelt flour, baking powder and sugar last week, ready for add-ins and frying.

Pancake recipe:

1 cup spelt flour (or any flour, but I love the nuttiness of spelt)
2 tsp baking powder (I might experiment with a little more next time)
2 tbsp sugar
zest of one lemon
zest of a quarter of an orange

mixed together

juice of half an orange
juice of half a lemon
2 tbsp chia seeds + 6 tbsp water
1 cup almond milk

added in

Fried in almond oil.

Eaten with chocolate sauce, lemon juice, and fresh fruit - oddly, despite never being a jaffa cake sort of person, the combination of chocolate and orange with this slight nuttiness of the pancake something made sense.

I had two good lectures, JustLunch, and then walked back to college with Lizzy, talking about doing solo things with confidence and mental illness and medication.

As I was locking up my bicycle the lines 'You are ugly and you are fat' fell like damning hailstones in my mind. I don't know where inside of me they came from but they sort of punched me in the belly as and left me feeling spread out and sad. And I feel embarrassed admitting thoughts like that because I try hard to love myself, and stay positive, and champion self -acceptance but there are days where I don't feel it. Important honesty moment. Also nasty thought which I am working on reasoning and praying away. If you would pray with me.

Then there were moments of thought and procrastination before a crescendo of essay writing - first one in, feeling of exhaustion and delirium which meant a cup of lemon and ginger tea with Alex in the kitchen, listening to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac and then deciding to go for a spontaneous walk down the hill and back again.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Four things about empowerment




1. How this blind girls' friends/family helped her see colour.

2. This cute gif:


3. At JustLove's Launch yesterday we announced the Unashamed campaign, a partnership between JustLove and Restored, where Christians take a firm stance in fighting violence against women. I'm so excited for this! It's something I think the church needs desperately (as part of a need for more christian conversation on gender issues in general) and I'm so ready to learn and grow and stand for this cause.

4. It's so important to remember that empowerment needs to happen to every person in society, not just those who can afford it - the quest for the empowerment of self does not give the license to exploit others. Read this article, on the new H&M campaign.

... feminism isn’t a trend to be enjoyed for autumn 2016, nor is it a privilege that is only supposed to be accessible to women who can afford to shop. It’s a longstanding commitment to equality in both the developed and developing world...

5. BONUS THING


Tuesday, October 4, 2016

1/10/2016


As Auntie Sarah and I drove to Pinford End, the puddles along the path were bright mirrors, cunning holes into another sky. Grandma was sitting in an arm chair when we came in, turned toward the window and the garden outside.

We'd brought along a record player, and listened to the first movement of Mendelssohn's violin concerto in E, and Grandma closed her eyes in pleasure and waved her hands, conducting her own concerto.


We also listened to Marilyn Baker, and some Mozart, and watched the sunlight on the clouds.

Before we left, Grandma and I both exhibited just how high we could lift our legs - Grandma always lifts her leg right up in the air at night to rub cream all over it (Mum and Hannah inherited Grandma's beautiful legs, and I got Dad's, but perhaps I inherited some of Grandma's flexibility).


Leaving 2.0


It's funny how three months compresses itself to a period of time you feel you could fit into the shell of a hazelnut, and after what I thought would be weeks and weeks, I found the feeling of leaving sweeping over me like the break of a wave, as I sat under a sunset sky in Desaru.

“And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marveled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.

In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it.”

― Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

Wave ebbs, curtain draws back, second year.

Hearing aids

Credit

Exhibit A:

Auntie Sarah [quoting Eugenne Peterson]: The heart well-stocked with God’s word is like a well-armed arsenal

Grandma: Wear socks with God's word?

Exhibit B:

Ear doctor [in the process of prescription]: ...warm olive oil...

Grandma: War memorial???!?

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Pua Mission Trip (Sept 2016)

 

There’s a song I love, by United Pursuit, called Simple Gospel. The gospel of Jesus Christ that I believe in is really quite simple (if you could describe love as simple, which is a whole other question) because it is that Jesus loves us incredibly  and wonderfully that He would die so we could be with Him in heaven for eternity, and now He wants us to love Him back in our thoughts, words and deeds.

I went for my first mission trip in September, to Pua (Thailand) to teach English to children in Kathy’s Home. Kathy’s home is where children from the villages surrounding Pua can stay in order to attend the schools in Pua. Their villages being between 45 minutes to 2.5 hours drive away from Pua, staying free-of-charge in Pua ensures that they can receive a consistent education. Mak and Narola are the missionaries who run the home, together with two temporary missionaries from their hometown in Nagaland (India) and their daughter, Phoebe. I was so inspired by the trust Mak and Narola had for God - despite the need for house parents for the children, they've been continuing to trust and pray that God will provide. And the temporary missionaries and Phoebe being there are answers to prayer for the moment, but we'll keep praying.

It look a while to get there – a flight to Bangkok and then a change of flight to Nan, and then a long taxi ride to Pua, and then a ride in the back of Mak’s Song Tao to Kathy’s home. When we got there, it was already night, but it was time for our first lesson. Auntie Yah Wu and I were teaching the group of children who had just come from the villages to Kathy’s Home, and who struggled most with their English. They ranged from the youngest in the Home, aeroplane-loving Krittanai (also called Mochi), to fourteen year old Jeerasin. They called me Pi Miriam, which meant teacher Miriam, and we revised phonics with them, which they’d learnt previously with Auntie Yah Wu.

I was so tired from travelling and teaching, that I slept easily, waking up at 6am to go for a walk around the nearby lake with Auntie Yah Wu, who told me the story of how she met Uncle William, and advised me not to be in a rush to get married – ‘courtship days are the best days of your life, you don’t want to get married too soon’.

Our first lesson of the day involved teaching numbers and how to tell the time to the children, which we practiced with a game of ‘What’s the Time Mr Wolf?’ The children took big steps at first, excited by the game, but when they realized that the point of the game was running away from the ‘wolf’ they were taking steps towards, their steps turned into shuffles and little tiptoes, and they giggled and were easily scared into running backwards, before sheepishly stepping back forward to their places.
After that lesson, I fell asleep in a room in Mak and Nerola’s office and living space, under the slow rotation of the fan and a blanket of heat. Our next lesson saw us splitting the class into girls and boys – I taught the girls:

Malee, the cleverest in the class, competitive and keen to learn

Jumpee, one of the slower girls, who often drifted away in dreams

Saifon, who always clasped her mouth after giving an answer, afraid it was wrong, although she was usually right

Siriwan, shy and timid, and afraid to ask about what she didn’t understand, which was most of what was taught

Namtip, clever and inquisitive, who beamed at me during class and said ‘Pi Miriam so cute!’

Auntie Yahwu and I visited the market after that class, where she showed me the incredibly spicy chillis the people of Pua like to use in their cooking, and tiny green eggplant,

During worship on Sunday, the children started off singing in their Hmong dialect, in tunes that I wasn’t familiar with. But it was incredibly uplifting to hear their earnest nature in singing praises to the Lord. The English songs we had later had simple but meaningful words like ‘open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see you’.

And maybe it was then that I realised that even though we can't speak their language and they can't yet speak ours fluently yet, the gospel can be shared (us to them, them to us) in other, simple, ways. In the discipline through which Auntie Yah Wu handles a class, in the time Uncle Kim Song uses to prepare each lesson, in the photographs Uncle Siew Kim takes of each student - in the many ways they show practical love to the students, the love that Jesus commands for us to show to our brothers and sisters,

Four things about death

Auntie Brenda and Grandma at her Dad's funeral

1. What dying feels like - quite science-y and oddly comforting

“It’s like a storm coming in,” Hallenbeck says. “The waves started coming up. But you can never say, well, when did the waves start coming up? … The waves get higher and higher, and eventually, they carry the person out to sea.”

2. A mushroom suit instead of a coffin? The infinity burial project uses mushrooms to decompose bodies. (Here is a longer video of the original TED talk explaining the infinity burial project)

3. This essay by the late Paul Kalanithi (author of the New York Times bestseller 'When Breath Becomes Air') on time and meaning.

4. While I was watching some old videos of the time when my grandma and late grandad were in Singapore, I heard my grandad speak (he was not in the camera shot, but his voice could still be heard) and felt so strange - I hadn't remembered his voice, and there it was, reaching out over death.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

You can thank me later


Something magical happens when you put crunchy cereal flakes (cornflakes/bran flakes/ancient grain flakes...whatever rocks your socks) and frozen blueberries together, add a cold splash of rice milk and then put a big spoonful of peanut butter and a little drizzle of maple syrup on top.

Very sound medical advice encouraging the ingestion of cereal any time of the day, any meal of the day can be found here.

You're welcome.

Four things about falling



1. What happens to you when you fall into a black hole

'The great secret that black holes have revealed to us is that there is no really. Reality depends on whom you ask.'

2. This quote

“I was falling. Falling through time and space and stars and sky and everything in between. I fell for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. I fell until I forgot I was falling.”
― Jess Rothenberg, The Catastrophic History of You and Me

Is this what love feels like?

3. How a group of rugby players survived after their plane fell out of the sky

"Who survived? It wasn’t the smartest, most intelligent ones. The ones who survived were those who most felt the joy of living. That gave them a reason to survive."

4. I've fallen in love with this instagram account - it is the funniest thing.

21/09/2016


“Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,

"You owe me."

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.”
― Hafiz

(not my old history teacher)

(I don't know who this hafiz is but he speaks truth)

This song makes me sleepy and happy in the best possible way. I'm adding this to my collection of 'Songs I will sing to my children in future'.

I came home today and had 2 delicious ice cream cookies sandwiches - I've been craving a crunchy cookie for the longest time, and perfected it with this recipe, except that I used regular plain flour instead of buckwheat or quinoa flour, and used less than the original recipe, starting with 100g and adding more if I feel like the mixture is too wet. These cookies with vanilla coconut bliss ice cream is a day done right. That and booking tickets to see Imogen in the Globe Theatre on the day I get back.

The mosquito foggers came walking round today, shrouding the estate in white fumes. Usually I lock the doors tight, and put the fan on it's highest speed to disperse the clouds, but as I reached out for the door on the balcony, I stepped out and realised how beautiful the sky still looks when it's behind a translucent filter of fog.

The thing about honey



'But why don't you eat honey?'

As a vegan, this has been one of the questions that has stumped me for the longest time. Why don't I eat honey? I love honey - it tastes delicious, it's healthier as a sweetener than refined sugar, I love the fact that I can get locally produced Suffolk honey from the village shop in Ixworth and support the livelihood of a small scale company while reducing my consumption carbon footprint.

Recently I read this article which I found quite useful in addressing both sides of the debate.

Why honey is not traditionally seen as part of a vegan diet:

1) Honey is taken from bees, who have to work incredibly hard to produce a small amount of honey. Taking it away from them after their effort is seen as a form of exploitation and theft.

Honey is not just a by-product for bees - bees use it to feed a majority of honey bee larvae. Bees can over produce honey, and some responsible bee keepers will leave enough honey for the bees (how they judge that is something I am still unclear about), however, many irresponsible bee-keepers instead replace the honey with a sugar-water solution, which is nowhere as nutritious for the bees.

2) The act of farming bees violates their right to live in freedom, and bees can be killed during the process of extracting honey as a result of the often used method of smoking the bees out of their hives. One response to this has been the Flow Hive, which promises a safe, efficient method of extracting honey without having to have the bees vacate their hive, but the flow hive comes with its own set of problems and concerns.

Commercially, the queen bee is also often killed to prevent swarming (when many of the colony's honeybees follow their queen to begin a new colony), drones are killed as they are deemed unnecessary to honey production, and more bees are killed in the process of moving commercial hives around the country to pollinate crops and produce honey.

3) Bees are not oblivious to this ill-treatment. Because insects are so different from us, it is easy to forget that they too are sentient creatures who experience suffering.

4) That insects are killed during agricultural processes, a common argument against the abstinence from honey ('You're killing insects there, so why do you avoid honey just because it kills insects?') is an invalid argument, given that veganism seeks to reduce suffering, in particular intentional exploitation and killing. To perpetrate suffering just because you can't eliminate it entirely does not make sense.

But - some considerations:

1) Colony Collapse Disorder - resulting in the mass death of bees - means that the population of wild colonies has declined. Bees - both honeybees and other types of bees - are responsible for pollination, which is needed for the growth of agriculture and the provision of food. Bees would usually pollinate the flowers near their hive, and since flowers bloom at different times in a year, a wild bee would be able to sustainably pollinate throughout the year. It is through the process of pollination that honey is made too, since pollination and nectar-collection go together, and that nectar is then turned into honey.

However, with the declining population of wild bees, it has become more important that honeybees carry on the process of pollination because, quite simply, no pollination means no food.

Because of current methods of agriculture, where large fields (especially huge for a little bee!) of mono-crops only have one flowering at a certain time, left to their own devices, bees would starve. Once that crop finishes its flowering, the bees would have no recourse to a source of nectar. The commercial movement of bees to reach other plants and crops ensures that bees do not starve. By eating honey, you in some way support the movement of bees to crops they can pollinate and collect nectar from, thereby supporting the bees and the growth of plant-based foods.

2) In view of Colony Collapse Disorder, the fact that bees are kept and can be monitored by bee keepers is crucial in sustaining their population.  This is of course predicated on the need for ethical beekeepers, and despite commercial, profit-driven beekeepers that neglect the health and welfare of their bees, ethical beekeepers who also sustain businesses and make profit do exist.

Beekeepers are trained to notice changes in the health of their bees and can save whole colonies if the presence of bacteria or disease threatens the colony. Ethical beekeepers protect their bees from the very parasites and pesticides that contribute to Colony Collapse Disorder.

3) Vegan alternatives to honey can be just as or more ethically and environmentally dubious. The harvesting of agave nectar is threatening the endangered Mexican long-nosed bat and the Jaguarundi through the forced destruction of their habitats - approximately 113,126 acres destroyed from 1991 to 2000.

Final Words

1) If you do buy honey, try to buy local and organic. Local because smaller scale producers are more likely to be able to care properly for their hives, and not use factory-farming methods which treat bees like disposable commodities. Organic because pesticides are the very things that are contributing to bee deaths, especially with regard to Colony Collapse Disorder.

2) Ultimately, what is crucial to remember is this - just because you don't feel resolved over the issue of honey, doesn't mean you cannot take steps towards a compassionate, vegan lifestyle. If honey is the thing you 'just can't not have', then continue eating it, but take steps in cutting out meat, dairy, eggs and other animal products in your diet and lifestyle. Try to find other substitutes for honey, like date paste or maple syrup, and remember that honey is the precious, amazing creation of some very small but very complex creatures.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

17/09/2016


Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there’s been no rain
The pine sings, but there’s no wind.
Who can leap the world’s ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?

-Han Shan

I'd had pizza dough rising in the oven since about 1pm, inspired by the passion of a man called Gennaro.

'What is it about making pizza? It's fantastico!'

and every time I opened the oven to check on it I inhaled its sweet yeasty smell. Anticipation.

Christy arrived at about 5pm with mushrooms, peppers and some ripe bananas, and we begun making pizza. Christy was so much better than me at rolling out the pizza dough, having taken a pizza making class in kindergarten. My prior experience with making my own pizza has been microwaving frozen Dr. Oetker's pizza, or spreading Prego sauce and cheese on toast.

4 pizzas were almost completed, and ready to go into the oven, but we had to wait because Emily had the onions, and was on her way. Anticipation.

We had to peel the pizza off the baking paper, because it had got stuck, burning our fingers in the process - Anticipation.

But it was worth it and delicious and we all stood on our chairs to take a picture of the spread - four pizzas, three girls, 500 grams of flour. We ate most of it, leaving the pieces with the most paper stuck in the bottom.

We watched Little Miss Sunshine (which is the sort of movie you watch when you don't want to feel too much, but still want to watch something thought-provoking) and then adjourned for ice cream sandwiches.

I begun making banana-coconut ice cream to have sandwiched between our cookies.

And then I broke the blender, and caused a power trip in the house - bathos.

But there was enough ice cream for the three of us to have and it was delicious, although I was very worried about the blender.

Christy had to leave then, and Emily and I needed to sleep early to wake up the next day for the Macritchie treetop walk. But there are not many people I would be able to talk to for 4 hours about the messy, gore-y bits of you and gore-y bits of me, and when that happens you don't fall asleep. Not until 4.30am, when in about 5 minutes a storm wakes you up again, the crashing-sheets-of-rain-howling-winds storm that I love most of all.

“I have learned that to be with those I like is enough” 
― Walt Whitman

And I like you two, very very much.

No where to be No one to see


I find myself thinking of the time I went to London to try to find tickets for a train journey. I arrived earlier than the ticket shop opened, and because there was a chance of rain (but when is there now a chance of rain), I was wearing my grandfather's bright yellow raincoat. Besides the fact that it is made of thick plastic and is so big it could probably shield another person in the case of a storm, the added aspect of it once being my grandfather's property seems to give it extra protective properties.

Unfortunately that ticket shop didn't sell tickets for trains on weekends, but thought another shop might and so I took a walk to another part of London, stopping in the most beautiful bookshop and peering into a window display of Alice in Wonderland's Mad Hatter's Tea Party. The second ticket shop had ceased to exist, and so instead of tickets I bought a small baguette and decided to keep walking, to nowhere in particular.

Perhaps that is something I ought to do more - spend a day alone in a big city, with no time limit, no plans, no where to be and no one to see. Just me and wide pavements and expensive shops that smell of perfume and leather, and a man getting his shoes shined, and posters of vintage Vogue covers, and Islamic tiles in a window, and warm bread in one hand.

That was the same day I discovered just how in love I was with A Wheatfield with Cypresses, and after buying postcards and emerging from the National Gallery, I was on my way to the tube station, on a quest to find London'd best vegan cookie, when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a young man.

'How... are you?' he said, but with the rush of London around me and the lingering memory of A Wheatfield with Cypresses in my head I didn't properly hear him.

'Good?' I replied, more of a question than an answer.

'No, no...how old are you?'

'Nineteen?' (definitely a question) I was perplexed. Who was he? What did my age matter to a boy in a white t-shirt? Was I really nineteen - was life passing by so quickly?

We ended up having lunch together, during which I discovered that his name is Pablo (I hada to ask twice because I forgot the first time), he is nineteen too, has a father from Spain and a mother from England, and a younger brother. He is going to the University of Southampton to do engineering but before that he's just travelling. After that, we did much of what I had been doing earlier in the day - walking around London aimlessly.

The best thing about meeting stranger is that you probably will never see them again, and so I decided to be bold and ask him all the things I wanted to know from strangers, but never asked the hundreds of people I walk past every day. I asked him what his purpose in life and what he thought happened after death, whether he believed in God and what made him most happy.

Pablo lives life the same way I lived that morning. Aimlessly and experientially, for the purpose of trying all he can before he dies, and having the most fun possible. He avoided the question about what happened after death, saying he simply saw death as a reminder to live life to the fullest, and asked me instead what I thought happened after death. I felt a sense of sadness, because despite the beautiful freedom of no where to be and no one to see, it isn't sustainable. It's a drifting through life, like a paper boat floating down a stream, brushing the bank, grazing against over hanging leaves, oblivious to the water seeping in. It's regenerative sometimes, but other times you need to walk on the firm ground of the bank and dig your toes into the soil and have purpose for yourself and for others and for God.

After 5 hours of conversation, in which we also discovered a book sale under a bridge and found our way to Hyde Park, I lied about my train, saying it was earlier than it actually was because I was very tired from the walking and the conversation, and so we parted. After making sure he'd gone onto his train, I doubled back to where we'd come from initially to buy some dinner and a slice of cake, and then caught my train to Oxford with just 2 minutes to spare.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Four fun things


1. I made the life-changing discovery that is Mustafa Centre. They have everything - from rice milk to mangos to dates by the aisle to dosa pre-mix. I picked up some of this vegan cheese, and had my first cheese and tomato sandwich in the longest time. I also love how vegan cheese website has quotes along the bottom of their page. “The time will come when men such as I will look on the murder of animals as they now look on the murder of men.” Leonardo da Vinci

2. We need more girls with confidence - here are two sources of inspiration (1) and (2)

"I love my hair, I love my haircuts... I can do anything good!"

3. If Vincent Van Gogh could see all he has made. I must admit I teared up myself. 'He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty...'

4. I'm no longer sick! After losing my appetite for a few days when I had a constant stomach throb and diarrhea, I've realised how precious my usual state of good health is and how I've always taken that for granted. To wake up hungry and to be hungry is one of life's big blessings. While I was sick I was eating so much rice, rice porridge and plain fare. But yesterday I had three helpings of delicious salty black bean dip with guacamole and tortilla chips and vegan cheese - my appetite is most definitely back! Perhaps pancakes on Sunday...

What happens when I get lost

 

Yesterday I got lost.

I was meant to be at a potluck at 7.30pm, but I only left the house at 7.30pm. Because I knew that waiting for the bus would be a foolish idea, I jumped into a taxi that had pulled over to drop someone off at Pietrasanta.

That taxi driver was probably the slowest driver in the history of taxi drivers. He drove at 30 km/h - I was almost jumping out of my seat when we finally got there.

I took the train to Clementi, and then walked, and then got lost.

Something funny happens when I get lost and am in a hurry.

I start talking to myself.

'Okay, you're just going to keep walking straight, and then turn left, and then hopefully, hopefully, there will be a road.'

'Why is that man smoking I am sure he's under age. His lungs think he's under aged. There is not age for smoking.'

'This is really great exercise. Yup, you keep telling yourself that Miriam.'

'This might be enjoyable if it wasn't so flipping hot.'

'You see this is why I never blog these days. I have all this creative energy and it just gets wasted when I get lost and start talking to myself.'

It must have worked because after about 20 minutes (in which time I managed to not spill the mexican-lasagna-dip-tortilla chip thing I was holding) I found the place!

'I am a champion. I did it. I found it. I am the WORLD'S SWEATIEST CHAMPION RIGHT NOW.' 

The Year of Jubilee


On Wednesday at Fellowship we discussed  The Year of the Sabbath and The Year of Jubilee, which God commands the Israelites to observe. The Year of the Sabbath was incredible - the Israelites are commanded to observe a solemn rest for an entire year. I've talked about rest before, and I think rest days are important, but it was so difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea of an entire year of rest.

Perhaps it is because I base my identity on so much of what I do.

Also the idea of trusting God becomes magnified when you consider an entire year of rest. A year of rest means no planting seed, no tending the fields and reaping the harvest. It means no working to earn money. The basic ways we conventionally find our security to support ourselves are prohibited, and God says instead that He will provide security for the Israelites, that the earth will give them everything they need, and that they will not want (The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want).

When God tells us to rest, He really asks us, 'Do you trust me?'

The Year of Jubilee also called for rest, but on top of that there was the incredible restoration of rights and justice that happened in that celebration. Debts were cancelled, family land was restored, and slaves were set free. God cared deeply that as a community, the Israelites dedicated time to enshrining social justice and rest as part of their worship of Him, as part of celebration - what gave them deep and satisfying joy. Mercy, generosity, righteousness, were not to be some sort of twisted competition to 'out-moral' each other, neither was it to be a grudging duty to avoid God's wrath, it was meant to be an outpouring of joy and celebration, where we find our truest happiness in our worship of God.

I was enraptured by the idea of the Year of Jubilee. I imagined it in my mind - how perfectly exciting, to be a slave and know that you would be free one day. How reassuring, to be someone trapped in poverty, to know that your rightful land would be restored to you, upon which you could then build a stable home and life. How humbling for a rich man, who had built up his life in receiving the interest from incurred debt, to have to let go of what is owed to him. Such a beautiful pictures of restoration and perfection.

The prophet Isaiah describes it in Isaiah 61 as the Year of the Lord's Favour:

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.

...

“For I, the Lord, love justice;
    I hate robbery and wrongdoing.
In my faithfulness I will reward my people
    and make an everlasting covenant with them.

Then I found out that the Year of Jubilee never happened. Not even once. The Israelites could not, as a national body, live out the social system that God had commanded them. And neither can our present day society. The perfect picture in my head of the Year of Jubilee was shattered. But then Caleb said something else, "That perfect picture of the Year of Jubilee is just that, a picture." The real jubilee was fulfilled somewhere else - or rather, in someone else. In Luke 4, Jesus took up the scroll and read out from Isaiah 61. And then he rolled up that scroll and said,

“Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Mind. Blown.

Jesus is the Jubilee. He is the restoration of justice. In his short time on earth he began that work, healing the sick, freeing the oppressed, and fighting injustice where he met it. And he promises eternal jubilee in heaven, where 'there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away'. The Jubilee didn't happen for the Israelites because that perfection could not operate in such an imperfect society, but it was fulfilled in the perfect person of Jesus, and remains a promise and a hope for us to reach forward to.

"Listen, Peter. When Aslan said you could never go back to Narnia, he meant the Narnia you were thinking of. But that was not the real Narnia. That had a beginning and an end. It was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia which has always been here and always be here: just as our own world, England and all, is only a shadow or copy of something in Aslan's real world. You need not mourn over Narnia, Lucy. All of the old Narnia that mattered, all the dear creatures, have been drawn into the real Namia though the Door. And of course it is different; as different as a real thing is from a shadow or as waking life is from a dream."

Thursday, September 8, 2016

09/08/2016



Yesterday I fell sick. It was the worst of times for that to happen - Dad had taken two afternoons in a row off to spend time with me, Reshem was here for a stopover before his 6 month backpacking trip through Southeast Asia, and tomorrow I am about to go off to Malaysia for a church Young Adult Retreat. I felt like I needed to be present, engaged and expendable with my time and energy, but couldn't because my body was aching and tired and so cold.

Instead of going for the treetop walk we planned initially (foiled again!) we did something less strenuous with Dad and Reshem (bowling) and then I came home, took my temperature (fever) cried a little with frustration and disappointment, because I felt like I was letting the people around me down, and then went to bed with three blankets to stop the shivers.

In the night, three times I felt someone come and feel my forehead.

And I felt so thankful then that I was sick at this moment, in a place where I have people (angels in disguise) around me who care and make me take a step back and rest even though my instinct is to just try and push on.

There is almost always a part of my mind that is taking me to the next thing - I need to read this, I need to write that, I need to run this much/this fast, I need to... I need to... But 'need' is a tricky word of sometimes self-deception. Because the only thing I truly need is God, His mercy and grace and presence with me when I'm well and when I'm ill, His patience when I'm rushing from thing to thing and forgetting to worship or honour Him, His unfathomable power as He knows the plans that He has for me far better than I could anticipate or force.

And one thing God intends for us is rest. I find it so incredible that something God asks of us, that we dedicate at least one day of the week as a day of rest (and specifically, to find our rest in the contemplation and worship of God), is not only for our spiritual health but also so intrinsic to our physical health. Something I read:

Life is light and shade, fast and slow, light and dark, action and rest, awake and asleep… There’s an ebb and flow of life that unless we learn to work with, will fight against our constant need to drive hard, until something out of our control happens to slow us down. [...] While we sleep our brains consolidate memories, and our muscles, bones, and organs repair themselves and sleep keeps our immune system healthy. Getting consistently less than 6 hours of sleep per night increases the risk of cancer purely because you’re not giving your body time to rest, regroup and repair.

In 2012, Scientists discovered how our brains clean themselves out. While our bodies and cells are working, they accumulate toxic waste. The lymphatic system washes this waste away from our bodies, but our brains need a different cleaning system.

A clear liquid called cerebrospinal fluid covers our brains. It travels through special channels and washes the brain out, taking the toxins to the general circulatory system, where the liver can remove them. Studies show that this special cleaning system within our brain is TEN TIMES more active during sleep.

When we wake, these channels squeeze shut, and the cerebrospinal fluid hangs out mostly on the surface of the brain, not deep inside it. When we are awake, this cleaning system performs at 5% of its capacity.

While are we awake, our brains are crazy busy supporting everything we do: movements, thoughts, capturing memories, and interrupting the signals that come in through our senses. It’s only when we are asleep, and these processes shut down for the day that our brains can switch into cleaning mode.

God says 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest'. It might not seem like the most impressive thing to say - he doesn't say 'and I will give you power' or 'and I will give you riches' or 'and I will give you your heart's desire' - but it is the very thing we need.

So today I rested, all day. I lay in bed. I spent some time replying to people I love from all over the world. I had lots of rice congee, and a bagel with apple sauce. I practiced some yoga that focused on healing and slow meditative movements -leaving out the crow in the second one because I didn't feel like that was the most constructive thing for my body. I learnt that the ampersand used to be part of the alphabet.

I feel much better now.

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Which you have that growed


Something you realise as a returning overseas student is just how much people change while you are away, and particularly how they change. Some people stay largely the same, but as the sands of time sharpen some edges and dull others, most of my friends develop new facets of self, or mediate and mature in some aspects, or lose some parts of their old self as they step into a new skin of their adulthood.

On Tuesday night I met Cheemeng, who I haven't seen for about a whole year, and as I waited for him in Real Food, I wondered what would have changed. Having not kept in contact much while I was in England, I didn't know what sort of person he'd be, especially having gone through army which changes one so much.

Well, the first thing I noticed was that he'd grown a couple of centimeters taller. But more importantly, he'd become so much happier, and sure of his direction in life, and mature in his conversation.

But in many aspects he was also still the same old cheeky, irreverent friend I've kept since orientation. I wish I could have said this line from Great Expectations to describe him:

"Which you have that growed," said Joe, "and that swelled, and that gentle-folked" Joe considered a little before he discovered this word; "as to be sure you are a honour to your king and country"

But since he hasn't read a book for at least half a year (and has left To Kill a Mockingbird half finished) I wasn't sure if that particular description would be quite relevant.

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Absolutely No Monday Blues

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Usually after a busy weekend all I want to do is curl up and rest, with some granola and a good movie or book. But there are different kinds of rest, and Monday’s rest after the exertion of Night Festival was found in spending time with a friend I feel so comfortable with and having a simultaneously entirely normal and entirely extraordinary dinner with her and my family.

I decided to walk to Nat’s house, down the Green Corridor and along the Canal, and so I set off in a baggy t-shirt, with my colourful patchwork bag (holding precious cargo of granola and chia seeds) on my back, and my Vietnamese Hat (nón lá) swinging in my hand and listening to ‘Hidden’ by United Pursuit. The birds are coming back to the Green Corridor, and as I walked along I thought ‘I really could do this one day, just take a bag (with granola inside) and some good music, and just keep walking till I have to stop. And then wake up the next day and keep walking, and singing, and being in the world around me.

At Nat’s place, we made Acai bowls (after she laughed at my hat and we watched a Masterchef episode in which the only vegetarian chef lost the vegetarian challenge sigh) and then went to Bukit Batok, which promised Breadnut trees, a Quarry and…figs!

Between the bus stop and the Nature Park we encountered two Primary school boys, one of whom seemed quite hysterical. He shrilled something I can’t quite recall about water and photosynthesis, and then began laughing at such a high pitch that it sounded close to screaming!

Bukit Batok Nature Park has winding trails that are easy to hike up, which lead to an abandoned quarry, a lookout point and a memorial of two war memorials. We spotted beautiful leaves, some squirrels, a flock of White-crested Laughing Thrushes, a sign warning us of falling Durian, and a few other park-goers who we were quite sure were looking for Pokemon. As we were coming out, we spotted the figs that the guide had mentioned! They were small, green, and grew out of the trunk of the tree, but were unmistakably figs.

Nat came to my place for dinner, and we sat round the table with Mum and Tim (Dad was having a hair cut) and ended with a game of categories, which always means fierce debate and plenty of laughter, especially when Dad, unclear that the central rule of the game is that you must answer each category with a specific letter given at the beginning of the game, tried to make one of the categories ‘The 5 longest rivers in the world’, forgetting that there are 26 letters in the alphabet.

Safe flight, God's love, and all happiness in Majorca, dear friend.

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Saturday, August 27, 2016

Admin



Admin

Going through the motions.
And the motion is -
reach slip slice
stack slip slice
Life sans serif
though I work with words.
But they are not mine
- mine are kept,
contained.
No cut for them to seep through.
They pollute my veins
with festering, quiet
rebellion inside my body.

A cancer of vocabulary.

Friday, August 26, 2016

Goodbye, Aristurtle

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I awoke this morning to a world made grey by the haze. Although 'haze' is too euphemistic a word to talk about the choking, polluting cloud that drifts over from the burning forests in Indonesia. It is more like smog – a more sinister word, a word that sounds like entrapment, blindness and dirt. The smog we have here is soft and blurs the edges of the sun and makes the buildings in the distance grainy, but also means waking up with a scratchy throat and inhaling the smell of ‘burnt’ with every breath.

I can’t imagine what it is like to burn a forest. To set a torch onto green, life giving plants and see them crinkle and curl up in smoke as they blacken and smoulder. To encourage the spread of the flames as it takes on a life of its own, leaping from tree to tree in chase of the squirrels and birds that flee, making the forest floor an inferno. To cause cracked death everywhere.
Smog or no smog, life keeps going. Since I was only due into work late today, I had time in the morning to do something Mum and I have been meaning to do since we returned from England – free our turtles.

Technically, they are red-eared slider terrapins, but because of the contemplative nature of one of them he was named Aristurtle, and since then to call then anything but turtles seemed an affront to his title. We received Aristurtle (initially called OJ) as a thank you gift from a couple who stayed with us for a while. (PSA: Never give animals as gifts.) We had no idea what to do with that small, scuttle-y creature. It had a small tank and we placed a rock into it as a consolation. Welcome to the family.
I recall making obstacle courses with lego bricks and trying to entice OJ through them with rancid-smelling slivers of terrapin food. He wouldn’t budge, and it was not too long after that that he was named Aristurtle. While he was contemplative, he was certainly not kind. Afraid he was feeling lonely, we bought him a little friend, a tiny turtle from the fish and aquatic life shop in Ghim Moh market. Aristurtle ate all the food we put into their shared tank and the little baby turtle died overnight, un-named.

And so when we got Mikey we made sure to separate him and Aristurtle. But this time it was for Aristurtle’s safety. Mikey was about twice as big as Aristurtle – he’d grown up with our neighbour, Ali, who was leaving for Australia and needed to give his turtle to someone. That someone was my brother. (PSA: Never offload your pet onto someone else if you can help it. Especially when all you know about that someone is their ability to play football and not their ability to take care of another life.)

And so Mikey and Aristurtle lived side by side in two tanks on our balcony for years, serving as silent listeners to my ‘hanging-out-the-washing’ concerts and providing novelty to the children who come to my Mum for speech therapy sessions. They grew, as we all do, and when I came back from England and looked into their tank I knew they needed more space.

And so this morning Mum and I walked, with the two of the min big blue buckets, to a nearby pond and let them loose. I released Mikey nearer to shore, among calmer waters where he stayed, treading water, before he disappeared into the dark undergrowth of pond weed and leaves. Aristurtle just sank to the bottom on the pond, his legs anad head tucked into his shell, refusing to adapt to change. He stayed at the bottom long enough that we thought he was dead from the shock of it all. But gradually he poked his head out, then his legs, and then shot to the surface (the fastest I’ve ever seen him move) and then begun swimming around, occasionally stopping and casting a sage eye on his surroundings – this is all very new.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Light up, light up

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Yesterday I followed the artists VJ Suave as they projected their cartoon animations on to the walls of the buildings in the Bras Basah Precint. A girl flew on the walls of SOTA, a cat stalked the fence along the House of Curiosities and a Construction Worker drilled the ground against the wall of the Cathedral of the Good Shepherd (which is being restored) as real construction workers took out their phones to take pictures.

They were simple drawings and projections but my heart was floating with happiness - how magical, to have drawings come to life on the walls that I walk past daily! It's so innocent, so playful, so child like.

The artists have a dog named Gnocchi, and started a movement called "mais amor por favor" (meaning "more love please").

(They are going to be at the Night Festival Friday and Saturday night - be excited!)

24/08/2016

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Yesterday I met a hungry man. I'd just been in the Marketplace in Raffles City and had bought all their old bananas (PSA: I discovered only after I'd bought them that unlike Cold Storage, green tape around old, brown bananas does not mean half price unfortunately.) and was walking back to the museum when I heard a wheezing whisper to my right.

I looked over and saw an old Indian man sitting on a bench, beckoning to me while saying something I couldn't quite catch. I walked over, and he said 'Excuse me Miss, could you spare some cash? I'm jobless and hungry, could you spare some cash for me to buy some food?'

Because on principle I don't give money to beggars or the homeless (This Atlantic article discusses the issue of giving money to the homeless, and although I know compelling arguments for both sides, I agree with the articles conclusion: If we drop change in a beggar's hand without donating to a charity, we're acting to relieve our guilt rather than underlying crisis of poverty. The same calculus applies to the beggar who relies on panhandling for a booze hit. In short, both sides fail each other by being lured into fleeting sense of relief rather than a lasting solution to the structural problem of homelessness.) I decided to instead give him some food. And the food I had at that moment were those bananas.

'Would you like bananas instead?' I asked, and he said he wouldn't mind one or two. So I left him with two bananas and walked back into the museum.

Yesterday I was hungry. I was out buying something for the artists that had arrived, when it hit me. That sort of shaky, cold feeling of hunger that I thought I'd left behind me when I finished the rice and beans challenge. Miserable, I looked at boxes of cereal - why is cereal so expensive in Singapore? I tried to buy a little bun, but the woman told me all the buns had milk in it (why?) and so I drifted through the supermarket, looking for something small, vegan and within my intern budget. As I walked by the sale rack, I spotted a packet of dried bananas on sale - and I grabbed it like lightning!

I think by the time I was out of the shopping mall half the packet was gone. Oh, to be hungry is such an uncomfortable feeling.

As I inhaled those banana coins I thought back to the man on the street previously. Both of us were hungry, both of us had bananas eventually. But the difference between us was that I am earning and he is not, and so I could afford to look through the shelves of a supermarket for something, while he had to hope that the girl walking by with quick steps would hear his dry whisper.

I hope that as long as I have ears and a job, I never block out those sidewalk whispers.