If you want to become whole,
let yourself be partial.
If you want to become straight,
let yourself be crooked.
If you want to become full,
let yourself be empty.
If you want to be reborn,
let yourself die.
If you want to be given everything,
give everything up.

The Master, by residing in the Tao,
sets an example for all beings.
Because he doesn't display himself,
people can see his light.
Because he has nothing to prove,
people can trust his words.
Because he doesn't know who he is,
people recognize themselves in him.
Because he has no goad in mind,
everything he does succeeds.

When the ancient Masters said,
"If you want to be given everything,
give everything up,"
they weren't using empty phrases.
Only in being lived by the Tao can you be truly yourself.
-老子, 道德经



We have our own life stories. Some of us have it worse, some of us have it better. Sometimes, it makes me wonder, who am I to listen to and advise those who have been in worse situations than myself. I can't say, "I understand", because, apart from genuine empathy, I have never undergone it myself. I have friends who have been through the most trying of family life, and a tumultuous disruption in family dynamics does not simply bypass anyone because of one's wealth. It could happen to anyone. It could even happen to me, I will never know. My foreign friends have got it better, because they ain't living in a communal Asian society where it is ultimately the family that forms one's bedrock in life. Yet they tell me it still hurts. My heart goes out to all of them, and to all the guys and the girls who've shared with me, I wish I could do something to make the pain go away. Because it hurts. No matter how strong we project ourselves to be, there is this inch of vulnerability we have. No matter how numb we can be, we are humans with hearts of flesh that can get de-Medusified and start to feel the pain gushing in.

But it'd be masochistic to want to be able to experience the extent of another's problems personally. Our troubles that we deal with differ. Comparison will lead to no end. I don't think we'd be so fucked to want to compete who has the most screwed-up life, do we? I don't.

The other day, we had a class on adjustment, where we were supposed to share about a problem and how we chose to cope with it. The only thing I could bring myself to share was the spending problem. Sounds fucking superficial, but I don't like talking much about alot of things. And I don't have big earth-shattering problems like dead parents and disappearing boyfriends, and what I am sounds pretty weird in comparison with others. I have silly-sounding problems, that most people think are self-created, which can be quite true. Like worries for my future when people tell me I am mad, like problems with society, idiotic bookfuckers and how apathetic people can be, like worries for families and those close to me, like existential crises, like commitment problems. But the deviancy and abnormality is inborn. Like insanity encoded in one's genes that decides to rear its ugly head. It's about a personal struggle that defines and will define who I am, in how I've experienced it and in how I've coped with it, whether successfully or whether I chose to avoid it. I wanted to talk about my struggle with religion, but it's as though few would understand. And condemning the mad Christians who lean more towards Fundamentalism would be asking for death, in a class like that. Later I realized that the girl next to me was active in church. So yes, tolerance. I accept her viewpoints. But that does not mean she would accept mine. And I know what false consciousness is and to live under the opiate of religion, even if our experiences vary and that I'm no one to really condemn. Yet, I notice that, from that class and in real life, many people like to cope through distraction or by talking about it. I guess I'm guilty of the latter, but I talk about it simply to talk, although I don't expect anyone to solve my problems. Ultimately, the onus is on myself to resolve it, and I don't really like telling people stuff. And then, talking about how to categorize the problems and the best ways to solve them, etc. But what is best? Can we necessarily prescribe the solution as though we are dispensing drugs to be collected at the chemist of life? Even then, what's recommended may not work.

Alot of my concerns stem from others' problems and lives. Especially Mom's. And my friends'. The neglected decrepit old folk and the abused dog. I think, we grow along with them, even if we don't experience the problems and the fears personally. It's akin to this support system and a mini-social memory. And I think this mini-social memory has grown in this week alone.

I also believe, some have it bad, some have it better. But the difference between them and those who don't feel a thing or will never learn, lies in reflexivity.

No problem ever has its perfect set of tools and tailor-made solutions that a second or a third party can dole out or prescribe. If a method does not work, we have to move on and try another. Distract ourselves, yes. But, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. We also have to focus on the problem per se and solve it, having faith that eventually we'll turn out good. It's that elusive balance, once again, between coping and solving. Adjustment ain't simply a whole set of hocus pocus that the self-help books teetering on the edges of pop psychology scream out. It requires more than that. And reflexivity along the journey is imperative to elucidate one, to track our progress and see where we are heading. Whether it's time to take a different path. Which is why the middle way is still the most ideal, personally. It is always easier to change course whenever one is in the middle rather than balancing precariously at one polarity but to no avail. We simply have to undertake the challenge of finding the personal tools to climb our mountains and ford the wilderness, figuratively. It seems difficult at first, but familiarity and ease come with practice. It doesn't mean that we have to numb ourselves or pretend to forget about it or ignore it in order to become happier. Because happiness is a transient illusion, and what good would suppressing the pain do? We have to experience it fully to transcend it, then move on. We learn to find meaning in our lives, or do something that we truly believe in. Balancing discipline and relaxation; the self and the wider community; the pain and the joy. Not for the sake of finding meaning as an end, but using meaning as a means and stumbling upon it accidentally along the way, in its multifarious manifestations that may sometimes surprise us. We take baby-steps rather than be unrealistically ambitious and aim to build Rome in a day. Accepting the change that comes, but not wanting a complete overhaul so much so that one becomes even less than a shadow of who one used to be. Our character is what defines us-- those little quirks, silly habits, serious goals and core beliefs. We can allow change to operate but we do not become a victim of change; we keep who we really are inside, whilst seeking betterment. We can talk about the trouble once in a while, and accept that there are times after we've moved on when the ghosts of the pasts haunt us, therefore giving ourselves that allowance to cry it all out. That's life.

So that when push comes to shove, we channel out our inner reserves. It's that personal life story. It has to be lived out by ourselves. It is in how we deal with it or choose to deal with it or to learn from it. During that time of trying, we think we have destroyed ourselves or are in the midst of self-destruction. But come to think of it, is it really the case? Or are we simply dealing with one of the lessons that life throws us with. Perhaps, this could be a mindset, or a form of self-delusion; yet by being reflexive, if one takes these trials as a form of strengthening oneself, rather than wallowing in self-pity, one can eventually evolve into version infinity.

Short of deliberately pursuing a specific detailed goal that reeks of analism. But rather a gameplan that is general yet paradoxically tailor-made, that allows for change to operate. And the openness in one's mind.

The resilience. We just keep moving on, collecting our battle scars like badges of honor.

Dwelving into the great unknown. Breaking into unchartered territory everyday. Does uncertainty legitimize giving up? Or do we dare to take the challenge and plunge in, with a mixture of calculated risks and instinctive gambles?

That's the story of, that's the glory of life.