Zen temple? Zen place? HA!

Last night, I visited a Zen set-up ouside of their temple. They had a huge tentage set up on a hard floor court.

It is a Zen temple after all so I had the expectation of seeing Zen stuff. Clean, Dull coloured, White place, soothing and all. However, what confronted me was very typical chinese temple and typical Singaporean temple stuff. Cloths which dragon motifs, Buddhist flags, etc. Other than the banner which has the Zen circle and the stage backgrnd with the name, nothing else looks anywhere Zennish.

However, Ven Dae Kwang said yesterday that Zen is nothing special. Master Nam Chuan said that Zen is everyday mind. And in the book 'Three Pillars of Zen', Harada Roshi says that usually a person who attains Satori, or Enlightenment, has to go through a period after enlightenment before they clear themselves of the 'stink' of Enlightenment. And it is so. Zen promotes harmony with surroundings.

So if the crowd of the temple is old Chinese and the main teacher comes from that traditional chinese tradition and is familiar also with this style of Buddhism other than Zen, and would like to be of service to these audiences, then of course the set up would be so. There is nothing strange about it. It is Zen after all. Hahaha!

The Diamond Sutra teaches, from without a dwelling for your heart, let your heart be grown from there. Something like, grow a tree from its roots, without its roots. Without roots, how can you grow a tree? Where is it going to get its water and nutrients from? Yet a tree is grown. So why should I be so attached to Zen stuff and looking for Zen stuff at Zen temples? That is a mistake in itself! Hahaha!

Renunciation

To recieve something, we have to first empty our hands and then open them. Many times, they are full or we simply just refuse to open them and would just complain that no one gives us anything.

The world speaks to us constantly, we do not realise it. That is where renunciation is needed. Renunciation does not mean turning our backs to the world and all that we know, our parents and our friends. Renunciation is simply giving up our greed, anger and delusion. When we renounce our opinions and our thinking, the world directly contact us and everything becomes clear. In Chinese renunciation is 出家 literally translated as 'leaving home'. Home is a place that you know or stay. Somewhere you are familiar with, a place of comfort. Our minds, our thoughts, our opinions, our methods, our preferences, that is our home, our world. Our world is created by the mind. So renunciation or leaving home, is an act of courage, an act to step out into the world as it is, and not living in the warped vision of the world that we have. It is an act of leaving trash behind, not attaching to these trash and steeping out, moving on. However, are the things which were left behind included in the real world that you are stepping into? Of course, the world encompasses everything. So by stepping out, renunciation, you are not truely leaving anything behind. You are just seeing things as they are, in the same world, encompassing all.

That is why, it is said that renunciation is enlightenment. Giving up, emptying and opening is receiving.

--lessons and thots from reading No beginning, No end. The Intimate Heart of Zen by Jakusho Kwong Roshi

Experiencing Life

The good kid, protected and sheltered since young, perfect and obedient. Never experienced much. She wants to break out! What has she been missing, what is she missing out on? Hunger to see, hunger for the experience, the excitement. Hungry for the world has to offer.

She steps out, strides far, leaves the nest, flies away, the mother, worried but powerless for this is the growth of a child. That imprisoned spirit, finally the seal has faded, it is released.

Not knowing, the world: hate, sex, pain, love, craft, goals, zeal, enjoyment, happiness, exhilaration, the dumps, the struggle, the battles, the sights, the vastness...

all these stimulation, arrgh, all these feelings,!! Ultimately, all comes to naught, ultimately fleeting, accounts for nothing.

Travelling around the world, can't you see that it is nothing but these? Superficial and nothing useful. In the end, you'll find that something is still lacking. That void in your heart is still not filled. Around the world and back to square one. But not having seen, one cannot help but want to see, seeing is believing. It is growth, it is needed. Sigh. Why do they not believe? Why do they want so much to plunge themselves into this world to come back to where they started?

But yet, knowing this, one still yearns for the world. Why so? Why so indeed..I cannot understand also. Forever trapped in this cycle....A hero is needed

A Middle-Aged Princess Grows Up

A great read. Dun even know if it is true. But the struggles, the desires, the wisdom, the taking responsibility for your own happiness, the introspection, the courage to change. You can find all of it here. A good reflection piece, are we really, deep down just like her?

A Middle-Aged Princess Grows Up

On the cusp of my 45th birthday, I made the mistake of looking in the
mirror. It wasn’t the bathroom mirror, it was a photo I had from graduate
school. I looked at myself 20 years ago and had a startling and clear epiphany.
It wasn’t a happy moment. It was a terribly sad moment. It was so sad that I
involuntarily burst into tears, something I haven’t done since the dark days of
my divorce.
I looked at the photo and came to the conclusion that I had made
a real mess of my life. I felt the utter misery of my life come in waves of
sadness, regret, anger, and loneliness. For almost an hour I cried as I looked
at the photo of a younger me. I was 24 with a fresh MBA from an excellent
school. I was eager to conquer the business world. I was eager to prove that
women could do anything. I was so much thinner. My clothes looked stylish,
almost sexy. Of course the hair style was awful but that was the 80s and such
styles could be forgiven. I saw the brightness in my eyes, the sparkle of life,
of the great opportunities that were open to me. The world was there for my
taking and I was ready.
But somehow, some way, it never came to be. My life
evolved into something painful and difficult. But until that moment when I
looked at my photo from over two decades ago, I always blamed someone else. It
was never my fault for the bad decisions I made. Typically, it was the fault of
men - my father, my boyfriends, my husband, my boss, my sons. Never, ever was it
something that I had done. When I commiserated with my women friends, they
always supported me. They even supported me when I had my affair, telling me
that my husband was not giving me the attention that I needed. I read the
women’s magazines and every article was about how women were always strong,
intelligent, morally righteous, unable to make bad decisions. Worse, I believed
that any of my needs, no matter how frivolous, no matter how many times I
changed my mind, no matter how miserable I made the men in my life feel, were
more important than anything - motherhood, career advancement, a healthy
marriage, whatever.
I hate the world for teaching me those lessons. I
remember complaining about how my husband never grew up. But as the tears
streamed down my face, I came to the conclusion that I had never grown up. I
never learned about compromise, trust, tolerance, niceness. I was a bitch, pure
and simple. I know now that being a bitch is not about strength or independence.
Being a bitch is about being repellent, unpleasant, unhappy, and lonely. Being a
bitch is nothing more than being a spoiled princess who is too selfish or stupid
to accept the joy in life.
I had become a fat, unpleasant, middle-aged
princess because I had refused to grow up. Sure, I had taken on grown-up
responsibilities (marriage, career, house, motherhood) but at the core of my
psyche was a 13-year-old girl who stamped her feet and whined when she didn’t
get her way. Of course, I had stopped whining years ago but I simply replaced
the whining with emotional manipulation and ornery bitchiness. No wonder I was
still single and my two teenaged sons spent all their free time with their
father.
When I was growing up, being a dilettante feminist, I swallowed the
standard line that women can have it all. I wanted it all and I wanted to make
no compromises, to assume no sacrifices, and to feel completely validated in all
of my lifestyle choices. The biggest mistake in my late teens and early 20s was
to let other women - women whom I thought to be strong, independent, and
intelligent - determine which lifestyle I was to follow. I was simply too
spoiled and lazy to look inward, to embrace the kind of introspection necessary
to find one’s own path in life, the path that could lead to real fulfillment and
happiness.
I remember college well. It was a fun time and I thought, at the
time, an enlightening time. The parties were exciting, the political debates
intense, the string of boyfriends and casual sexual encounters pleasant. I
studied hard and I played hard. I attended the campus feminist meetings and
listened to diatribes from sturdy and self-righteous peers about the evils of
masculinity. I learned to scorn men when I didn’t need them for selfish reasons
- study partners, shoulders to cry on, willing sexual partners. But I was never
hesitant to bat my eyelashes or let my skirt ride up on my then-slender thighs
if I needed something from a man. Men were handy to have around occasionally,
but certainly not required, as my female peers kept insisting.
I learned that
the only place for a woman was in the boardroom and that motherhood was beneath
my intelligence. I “took back the night” at a few after-dark rallies with
hundreds of young women eager to prove to the world that all men were rapists
and potentially violent criminals.
When I got pregnant my sophomore year, it
was easy to get an abortion. The campus health center was almost eager to make
sure the procedure was done quickly and quietly. I never told my parents. I
never told the fellow who made me pregnant. I don’t even remember his name, I
only vaguely remember a wild night with the college hockey team at an off-campus
party. Only now do I consider the irony of how I was attracted to college
athletes in school - the type of men who liked being in control.
Pursuing my
MBA once I completed my undergraduate studies was a foregone conclusion. I was
destined for the board room, or so I had convinced myself. Graduate school was
tough. I was competing with some very bright people, mostly men. Those men were
destined for success and they knew it. But I had something that I exploited. I
had my femininity and I used it ruthlessly when I had to. I tried to convince
myself that the affair with my married finance professor had nothing to do with
grades. Of course, finance was the most difficult course and when I managed
surface at the end of the semester with a B it was hard to rationalize that the
secret trysts with the professor had nothing to do with it. But the ends always
justifies the means and there was no way I would not succeed. The other few
women in my class were doing the same if they could get away with it. We never
talked about it, but it was understood and we sometimes giggled about it and
gloated that we had something the men would never have.
I met my husband that
last year in graduate school. He was pursuing a degree in sociology. The
chemistry with him was quite intense in the beginning. He had long hair and a
motorcycle. He was the classic bohemian and I felt the need to rein him in, to
make him a better man (or at least my definition of a better man). He was
irresponsible and sometimes unruly but I loved him with all my heart and
soul.
After graduating, I found work in a big corporation. Every day I went
to work with my power suit and shoulder pads under my jacket. I walked in my
sneakers and changed into work shoes when I got to the office at 7AM to put in
another 12 hour day. I was married by then in a wedding straight from Modern
Bride magazine. My husband had finally cut his hair after much insistence from
me. He would later call it severe nagging but I got my wish so it didn’t
matter.
He found work in a consumer research organization. He didn’t get paid
as much as me but that didn’t matter. My income was big and growing bigger. We
bought a house I found in the suburbs. He had recommended something more modest
and closer to downtown where we both worked. I would have none of that. My
success had to be readily visible with a big, traditional house and a big lawn.
I made sure he took care of the lawn despite his resistance.
After five
years, I felt the need to have babies. It wasn’t a mutual decision. I wanted
babies. No, I desperately needed a baby. I felt empty inside without kids. It
was a completely irrational feeling for a high-flying career woman hell-bent on
being the next corporate CEO. My husband was cool towards the idea. He asked how
we would balance the demands of being parents and supporting a rather expensive
lifestyle. I didn’t care. My womb was empty. I had needs. Neither reason nor
logic affected my needs or my feelings.
So, the first baby came. Instantly,
life changed. I couldn’t put in the hours I needed to maintain my career
trajectory. My husband changed as well. He quickly lost his bohemian attitudes.
He sold his motorcycle and became a devoted father to our son. Of course, I had
been pushing for this since we had gotten married. His words, as revealed during
the divorce, were “shrill, nagging harpy who relentlessly pushed me into
fatherhood”. But he loved our first son and even offered to work only part time
to allow me to keep on with my career. That would not do. I was the mother, the
queen, the all-knowing and wise creator of my son. My husband was clearly an
incompetent boob who didn’t know a diaper from a car seat.
My boss saw that I
was distracted with my new duties as super-mom. He looked at my productivity and
knew I couldn’t perform like my single or childfree colleagues. So, I was
“mommy-tracked”. They didn’t call it that then. But when a male colleague was
promoted over me, I knew what was happening. I hated it. I was livid. How could
I not have it all? So, I played the feminine card again, this time with a stick,
not a carrot. I paid a visit to Human Resources with a veiled threat of a
discrimination lawsuit. It didn’t work, of course, because it was very clear
that I was putting in fewer hours with the resultant loss of productivity. It
was all documented and defensible. I was furious. How dare they. I summoned up
all the righteous wrath I could. I consulted an outside attorney, a ferocious
female lawyer who was quite prepared to sue until she made a pass at me.
Open-minded I was, but certainly not a lesbian. I let the legal issue drop and
sullenly accepted my reduced role at work. After all, we had expenses to pay and
my salary was certainly needed.
I watched my husband evolve from bohemian to
responsible father. He was astoundingly good with our first son. Of course, at
the time, I didn’t recognize that. I thought everything he did was wrong. Only
I, the supreme mother, could raise our first boy. We struggled for a couple of
years. It wasn’t easy. So, when I got pregnant again - unplanned by my husband,
completely planned by me - the stress continued to grow. Money wasn’t tight but
the pressure to maintain our lifestyle and that big house was mostly on my
shoulders. I resented my husband for that. He had chosen a career he loved but
the pay was not nearly as much as mine. I really had to work and with being on
the mommy track, there was no way I could achieve what I had expected in my
career.
We did use day-care and a part-time housekeeper. Actually, we went
through eight housekeepers. They were never good enough for me. Nothing was good
enough for me. My shoes didn’t fit, my clothes looked bad, the car wasn’t clean
enough, my husband wasn’t up to my standards. Looking back in brutal honesty, I
was a stark, raving bitch. I don’t think I said a nice word in years. I am
amazed that my husband put up with me. I didn’t take him seriously, he was just
a man, after all.
In my limited social life, I spent time with women like me.
We were an unhappy group of 30-something moms with powerful careers. But we also
smiled and pretended that life was perfect. We all had the right homes, the
right cars, the right schools, the right careers. We convinced ourselves that we
did have it all. Occasionally, one of us might vent some frustration at the
situation. When that happened, we always had convenient scapegoats - our
husbands, our bosses, our housekeepers, the schools, whatever. It was never,
ever our fault because we were female.
With one son at five and the other at
seven, it fell apart. Rather, it exploded. My husband just gave up. He had been
supportive to me and good with the children. So, it caught me by surprise when
he just gave up. I guess I should have seen it. I was always using sex as a
weapon with him. If he didn’t do exactly what I said, if he didn’t bend over
backwards to fulfill my every whim, he didn’t experience any kind of sexual
pleasure. I remember I caught him playing with himself one night. I was furious.
How could he experience sexual satisfaction without my control being somehow
involved?
As a healthy woman, I did have my own sexual needs. So, rather than
enjoy sex within the context of a marriage, I had an affair. It was easy. I was
still somewhat attractive. There were men around. “Why not?” I easily
rationalized to myself. My husband doesn’t give me enough attention, it’s all
his fault. The affair was inconsequential, just some sex on weekends and on
business trips. I needed it so therefore it was OK. While my husband was being a
father, I was being an empowered, independent woman visiting cheap motels with a
man who could give me orgasms.
The affair lasted three months. My husband
never found out. He didn’t need to, he just gave up. Interestingly, he channeled
his efforts into a side business as a marketing consultant. This proved to be
quite lucrative for him. Within six months his income had exceeded mine. Our
savings account grew substantially. “It’s for the boys’ college tuition” he told
me over and over again.
I was unhappy. My career was stressful and
unrewarding. My two sons were closer to my husband than to me because of all the
hours I was working. He had quit his full-time job and was thriving as a
marketing consultant, a job that he could do out of the house with just his
computer and a phone. I felt frustrated and unfulfilled. My female friends
recommended counseling. So, we gave that a try. I subtly picked a counselor whom
I know would be sympathetic to me. The sessions were actually fun in a very
unpleasant way. The counselor and I spent 50 minutes picking on my husband. He
quietly sat there and took it, apologizing and promising to change. I didn’t
have to promise to do anything. The counselor - a woman much like me - made it
very clear that my needs were paramount and his needs were completely
irrelevant.
Naturally, the counseling didn’t work for us. My husband
retreated into fatherhood and his growing business. I contemplated another
affair. Unfortunately, I was gaining a lot of weight. At a size 12, it was hard
to get attractive men to look at me. My friends recommended that I consider
divorce. I look back and think about my “friends” from that period in my life.
They were a group of unhappy women trying so hard to validate their own, poor
life decisions. I let them influence me when I should have been strong. That was
an enormous mistake.
I didn’t hate my husband I just didn’t love him like I
used to. I wanted a new and better life. I could raise my sons without him. I
had been reading that kids really didn’t need fathers. I was feeling so
unfulfilled. When I served my husband with divorce papers, he didn’t seem
surprised. I had consulted with a good divorce attorney and she strongly
recommended that I go for everything - house, cars, custody, alimony, child
support, everything. “It’s a war and as a woman, you have to win” were her
words.
The divorce was ugly and despite the fact that I did get the house,
the car, the kids, child support, and the savings account that he had filled, I
ultimately lost. My ex moved out, leaving me to take care of the house and kids.
He moved into a very modest apartment and we agreed that he could see the boys
on weekends. The court actually ordered that to happen. I was happy to force him
out of their lives completely but he was rigidly insistent and that damned judge
agreed.
I was single again. I was ready to date again. But at 38, dating was
not like the wild times in college and graduate school when I was young,
alluring, and desired by men. No, I was a single mom now. I had cut my hair
short and my figure was almost past the point of no return. The kind of man I
wanted to date had no interest in me. Those powerful and successful men had
younger, prettier, nicer girlfriends.
The divorced men were the worst. They
were either so disillusioned that they couldn’t handle a relationship or they
were just hopping from bed to bed, not willing to be exclusive. I so much wanted
to be swept off my feet into the arms of an attractive man to take care of me
and make my troubles go away. I still thought of myself as a princess. I was
still silly, stupid, and immature.
Yet the men I was attracted to wouldn’t
give me a second thought. The men who did want me were totally unsuitable. It
was astounding to me that I wasn’t attractive any more. So many men in college
were after me. I remember mocking all the guys who approached me at parties. If
they had the slightest flaw, I pushed them away, usually with a pointed insult
or two. I never thought twice about the men I rejected, some of them decent and
sweet when I look back on it. My girlfriends and I called them “mamma’s boys”
while we let ourselves be taken by the cocky, arrogant pricks who always made us
feel overpowering attraction and lust.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t fix
anything in the house. My husband had tended to all those matters. My boys were
pre-teens and very difficult for me to handle. They hated the fact that they
could only see their father on weekends. Their grades dropped. They started
having discipline problems in school. Naturally, I blamed their father. It was
all his fault that we divorced and that he lived apart from them. I tried not to
say bad things about him in front of my sons but the feelings were just so
strong. I said terrible things about their father, especially when I was
drinking, which I did a lot of back then.
If I was unhappy when I was
married, I was now wretchedly miserable as a single mom looking for love again.
I tried hard to convince myself that I was a strong, independent, and
intelligent woman. Sometimes it worked, especially when I was browbeating
subordinates at work. I actually hated my job. I made a good living, yes. Yet I
had reached the zenith of my career and the board room was not one bit closer. I
still felt terribly conflicted about being a good mom and being the corporate
woman.
I had lots of blame to dole out. There was no way that the current
state of my life was the result of my decisions. My single girlfriends all told
me that, many, many times over copious cocktails in sundry singles bars. I read
a lot of women’s magazines and the advice I got said pretty much the same thing
- a woman is never to blame.
I tried to lose weight but it was so very
difficult. When I was hungry, I simply had to eat, usually ice cream or
something with chocolate. I had to buy new clothes, again, because the weight
kept piling on. I was set up on a blind date and the man had the sheer audacity
to say “I’m sorry, I’m just not attracted to you because of your weight.” I
never thought about my own hypocrisy about trying to find a man to whom I was
attracted to physically. Men must be attracted to me, I am a woman, after
all.
The past few years have been kind of a blur. My ex husband had found a
new love of his life and I naturally hated him for that. I tried to increase the
child support payments. When that didn’t work, I tried to prevent my sons from
visiting him. They fought me on this. I took out my frustrations at work. My
boss threatened to fire me. Only my girlfriends gave me any support. We had
boozy nights where we ate and drank too much. Frankly, we were a bunch of fat,
unhappy, single women who heaped blame upon the world for the state of our
lives.
So when I saw the photograph from college, the epiphany hit hard.
Through the tears of anguish, rage, bitterness, and denial came the incredibly
painful realization that I was responsible for my own unhappiness. I finally
figured out that I had not grown up and had not truly embraced adulthood. This
was six months ago.
I’ve made some profound changes in my life since then.
First and foremost, I stopped blaming everyone else for my own problems. This
was the hardest. For my entire life I was told - and I believed - that as a
woman, I could do no wrong, that I was not responsible, that I was always the
victim in some way. Over and over I had to tell myself that only I am
responsible for my happiness.
Once I learned to stop blaming the world, I
taught myself to be pleasant and nice. This was hard as well. I had always
mistaken pleasantness for weakness. This is not the case. A new colleague at
work - a woman from the South - showed me very clearly it’s quite easy to be
nice and be strong at the same time.
I also dumped my girlfriends. This was
easy. This group of unhappy and negative women was actually encouraging me to do
stupid things like divorce a perfectly good man because of my selfish and very
arbitrary feelings of the moment. I finally learned that acting solely on
feelings is the realm of children, not adults. Maybe those women will finally
learn that. But I doubt it.
I’m at the gym every day. After being rebuffed by
so many attractive and decent guys, I decided to apply standards of real
equality to the whole dating thing. After all, if I believe in physical
attraction, why should not I understand that men are the same way? Being fat
means not being physically attractive to many, many men so it’s up to me to do
something about, not be angry with men about the situation. The weight is coming
off. It’s a battle, to be sure, but it’s coming off. I’m also letting my hair
grow and getting rid of that awful “mom” hair style.
I no longer read those
loathsome women’s magazines nor do I watch a lot of TV. When I freed my mind
from so many complete misconceptions about men, I learned that men are actually
wonderful people. My sons saw my transformation. As they grow older and become
men in their own right, I have stopped nagging them about “feelings” and
“sensitivity” and encourage them to be men. I doubt I’ll ever mend fences with
my ex husband, all I can do is hope that he finds happiness and joy in his life.
I have a new respect for him, a respect born from understanding that men are
very different, not worse, just different. My ex is also an excellent father, I
am blessed for that.
I’ve learned to accept that my needs aren’t the center
of the universe. That was actually quite liberating. No longer am I a slave to
the whimsy of my often shallow emotions that can’t be reasonably fulfilled. This
means I complain less. If I can’t change the situation, why complain about it?
Winter is cold, my complaints about the temperature will do nothing to warm the
air.
The biggest regret I have in life is being so weak as to not to have
made the serious introspection until this point in my life. If I were truly
strong, truly intelligent, I would have really thought about what is important
to me instead of following the herd. In retrospect, clawing my up the corporate
ladder was a very bad decision. Exploiting my femininity to manipulate men was
even worse. I love being a woman but using sex to get what I want is no better
than a man using brute strength to get what he wants.
I’m still single and
dating still eludes me. There is a glimmer of hope, however, a very nice man
complimented me on my smile. At 45 years old, that was the first time anyone has
noticed my smile. My eldest son noticed it too, “Mom, I’ve never seen you smile
until now.” Life must get better for me. That’s my responsibility, no one
else’s.

Seven Attachments to Patience to Be Abandoned

With regards to patience....something i find myself to be sorely lacking, one of the 6 paramitas(perfections)

We must also abandon the seven attachments to patience: (1) Abandon
attachment to hatred, which is the opposite of patience. By abandoning doing so,
we are able to maintain patience. (2) Abandon postponement, or the idea that
when someone harms us, we can harm him in return now and practice patience
later. Patience should be practiced at the moment harm is inflicted on us. (3)
Abandon being satisfied with the amount of patience we are practicing. For
example, when someone harms us, we may exercise a little patience, feeling that
it is enough and that if we control our patience for just a few minutes, we can
return the harm after that. We should never be satisfied with the amount of
patience we practice; we should always keep increasing it.

(4)
Abandon the thought that we are practicing patience because we will gain some
reward in this lifetime. For example, when someone injures us, we shouldn't
think that later he will like us or reward us because we have been patient with
him. (5) Abandon the thought that we are practicing patience now to have
happiness in a future lifetime. We should abandon any thought of reward for
performing virtuous acts. We should practice merely for the sake of
accomplishing virtue. (6) Abandon the thought that we do not need to have
patience with little things, that it is allowable to become angry over small or
minor events. (7) Abandon any thought or conceptualization at the time of
practicing patience. For example, we should not practice patience while thinking
of becoming an Arhat or thinking about gaining personal liberation.

- Treasures of the Sakya Lineage: Teachings of the Masters (Migmar Tseten) p.174-175

This is

Nothing is what it seems

Have a good day.

ooo work

Meditation retreat got lots of people from our side!!! Incredible!! replying to their emails. tmr man booth. Think ppl would find it strange that our side always got me there which shows that we are short staffed. But will be manning with XM tmr. which brings me great joy. then go to school for meeting, then back to orchard then to KM hse. hopefully a Kuanyin Pu Sa appears, if not i will have to work a little bit harder. haha!

3 very special girls

Here, I introduce to you 3 girls with 3 characteristics which I find very special and admirable.

1. RQI
This girl has the super innocent eyes, the most innocent eyes that I have ever seen in my life. Her eyes are the 水汪汪 kind. And of course, she is also super innocent and nice. If she really looks into your eyes, you really can't bear to do anything bad to her. I really wonder where they make this kind of people. Totally incredible!!! Reminds me of the character Oboro from Basilisk whose eyes can neutralise any ninja's technique with a stare.


2. GY
This girl has the sincere eyes. When she talks, she looks straight at you (not sure if it is into your eyes) but i think her eyes do not shift around and always gives me the very sincere feel. Then she is sometimes like a bit no reaction. But I think she has got lots of feelings, can tell that she is v sensitive and attentive. And there is the other waiting to break out of the shell, adventurous side of her. Usually not much expressions, but when she gets excited, you shld see her expression! Her eyes become big and she totally comes alive! Haha!


3. XMI
This girl is just the always happy, bubbly girl. Really love to be around her. Her energy is just great. When I first saw her, she comes across as a girl fresh out of sec school, although she is really alr in uni. Nowadays, she is becoming older, or rather, matured I can feel it. It's slowly changing, although she still has that bubbly, happy, cheery, bouncy character. I always feel that it is that kind of 童真 which I think we cant lose. And that is important. It is like the positive vibe and energy manifested!!!

Patience

These days I seem to be losing patience with people. Which is not a good sign. Yet I start to see some of my very deep rooted negative natural responses and feelings. However, almost seems as if I am powerless to correct it. It is really strange...can it be that what they said is true? i do not think so..

Good ppl cant stand bad ppl do they dun stay in the company of bad ppl. Good ppl cant stand bad ppl. They think they are above these bad ppl in some cases. But how can one be above the other?? No differences to start with how can have any differences when end? There is much more to be learnt and practiced. Patience..patience is not 忍 and control and store everything inside. Patience does not involving controlling and keeping and suppressing. It involves letting go.

Buddhism is supposed to be applicable to daily life. So if it is not then there is something wrong somewhere in between. Sometimes, I find talking to Buddhists easier, cos they understand. A fixed view already there in the first place. Clears up many further qns. If one is too curious/clever/sharp, then sometimes it may be difficult. And I get challenged and it is difficult for them to understand things my way...I think I have got to be wiser and more established in practice. However, at the rate I am gg now...wait long long...step by step

ME?? Singing???

practising to sing for an event....totally crazy!! sing harmo and solo for a few lines some more... practice until very shag, dunno what will happen tmr...fingers crossed!!!