Rule with your head, not your pride.

There is something about being an air stewardess or a model that make women very proud in Singapore. They get club passes, free entry, and most elite reservation in social events that even a prestigious university alumni can’t pull off. These kind of privileges are very much coveted. Men think you are a goddess. Women think you are a doll. With a social stigma like that, any pride is well deserved to flaunt beauty than brains.

I spent three years in college scoping the brains of genius architects to discover the meaning of pride in Frank Gehry, a Deconstructive “starchitect”. He designs building from a crushed vending machine coffee cup. His toys weren’t Lego. He grew up in his dad’s hardware store playing with corrugated steel, plates and bolts. His signature paper architecture became quite a sensation to accolade him the esteem of a celebrity architect years later.

When I saw his early concepts, sketching and modeling. I was held in stunned reverence. This guy is brilliant. I felt pride welling inside me. To be able to see what drive and make him, I can hardly contain my impetus to write. His work inspires and mystifies. I am proud, proud of his poetic structures; proud to share his love of forms; proud that he weaves magic into science.

Never have I thought pride is an emotion. I have always thought pride is a byproduct of success. Not unlike that of stewardesses and models who take pride in their beautiful faces and body forms. However, I found my pride rousing on someone else’s making of a dream come true.

To honor that, I take delight in mindful expedition to chaotically explore and conquer. My fascination? I want to feel the rush. The urgency of what he wants me to see. And when I do make a splendid unravelment, I wish someone would take pride in me. And make it his or her aspiration to dream.

On many occasions during an alumni get-together, when wives or girlfriends (WOG) find themselves increasingly left out from discursive discourse not quite applicable to cabin politics or catwalk sashays, we hear a jabber of “we models” or “us cabin crew” flaunting a glamour twirl. But to no avail. Their pride soon turned into a menacing stench of inferiority complex, when conversation made its way back into mainstream masculine faculty.

My contention: our source of pride, if it is externally infused, make it work for you. If it is internal, like in the context of self adulation, never stop short to learn. Because glory is made largely of appreciation and assimilation. We take pride in each other’s achievement to make our own glory. The best part is, what we are today is what another has made us do yesterday. So go out there and find your credo. Manual not included.

The secret of sleep

Sleep

Definition: Suspension of consciousness.

Sweet, dark and seductive. Every night we get into a repose as soulful as forbidden fantasy. What lurks behind that transparent film of oblivion? Quiet renunciation.

What do we do here? Nothing. We simply surrender to a complete void of being. Not a sound. Only the occasional glimpse of a place we go without premonition.

Sleep, we took for granted. How magical a place. When we get tired, we close our eyes, with a flutter of eyelash and we’re gone. Nothing matters. Nothing can matter. Because our consciousness has transcended. To a place where we disintegrate in cognition to seek repose. And then, mysteriously concede to reconstruct our psyche to resume daily affectation.

What happens? We will never know. In our nightly episode of twilight doze, lies an unexplained adventure of intrigue, death, rebirth and transformation. Everyday we die a little to rise above our daily grind. How apt the saying “rise and shine” to mean our primordial self to wake up each day, feeling renewed and recharged.

In the morning, everything is beautiful. We are filled with energy. We are positive. We are invincible. Nothing can stop us from the woes of emotional hang-ups, catastrophe, stress and failure. Come afternoon, the spell ends. Everything is like yesterday - the disappointment, the despair, the heartbreak. And by evening, the deadening sound of unfulfilled resignation looms.

Sleep becomes a sanctuary. A place where we take repose. A place where we unconditionally surrender to unleash our innate predicament. A plight not unlike that of love or in prayers. Where we surrender in desolation to faithfully hope.

What do we learn from sleep? Surrender. In life, we must learn to surrender too. Surrender to love. Because it is through surrender that we can be possessed by love to know what love is. Love is probably one primary motivation why we live. Without love, even the biggest mansion will lack the spirit to dispel dust. Modern man with our scientific education and unscrupulous calculation, made us pathologically sleepless and loveless.

Unless we are capable of love, we will never find repose in sleep or in the arms of our beloved. The secret to good sleep? Love like a warrior, fight like a soldier. And hence, the journey to the mystery of life has just begun.

Writing is rich, bold and seductive. Don't tease.

Of late, I had the pleasure to meet with someone who revered the art of writing. I was fascinated to learn that in her opinion, the process of writing is simply to write. I was confounded. It is a major felony to fetter the art of writing to be of plebeian text and stylistic semantics.

To write is not to fill in the blanks. It is a potent portal to communicate, to vent, to defend, to celebrate, to protect, and to annihilate. For the discerning few, writing is a beguiling scepter. It weaves a magical world quite unlike the ordinary. Once entered, it is a splendid showcase of a writer’s emotional intellect worthy of the highest accolade.

Why is writing a linguistic realm reserved for the special few - notably thinkers, dreamers and storytellers? Because only they have the blueprint to this mysterious play of thought processing, idea conception and text precision.

Not unlike the mind of scientists and inventors, writers commonly deconstruct, conjure and refine. The final product is rich, bold and seductive. It is important that writers do not tease. Embellished sentences devoid of content and intrigue will soon cease to enthuse.

When you write, the mind enters a labyrinth. Any attention to excite, or to provoke requires a writer to ideate. Not in writing as yet, but in thought processing. Writing begins the minute you have a notion, or a voice. Continuity ensues, from your intuition while you percolate. Finally what you get is concise thoughts. Pure, incisive and riveting.

In-depth writing requires precision thinking. Every word endeavors. Not a word less or more to think otherwise.