A Tortoise Got Me Started - :Part II

I believe we will find what we are looking for. When we know what we are looking for, they will appear before us as if mysteriously. We will see what were always there but only notice now because we open our eyes to them. Many of us do have eyes that do not see. I look for Beauty that day and see what I find in the same place that dozens of people pass by every day.

I saw this beautiful water plant that beckoned to me and could not resist going down into the water edge; squat, stoodd, bended, contorted myself under the hot sun until I saw the angle that I wanted to capture.

I saw this plant that that formed a beautiful arc with the flower buds exploding from the joints in the stem standing upright facing the sun. From which delicate white flowers are already in bloom.

The paper thin delicate white petals floating like tiny pieces of ultra thin cotton clothes that fluttered and waved to the whispering winds. It was poetry in motion. The dance reflected in the gently flowing water.

They were not alone in their dances. Dozens of white flowers were along dancing along on top of Broad green leaves above the water. In that moment, I forgot the intensity of the sun. I forgot everything.

When we keep an eye open for Beauty, she will appear. There is nothing magical about it. For she shy away those who has no regards for her. And smile on those appreciates her for what she is.

She Walks In Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

A Tortoise Got Me Started - :Part I

I had wanted to return to my blog for some time but somehow found it difficult to get restarted. One thing after another distracted me. I wanted to write for those who miss my blog and for some, that is our only meaningful mean of communication. But I kept putting it off. I need a kick-start. In the meantime, I've become quite active in my flickr site - http://www.flickr.com/photos/11517445@N08/ If you have enjoyed the photos I took, please drop in there for a visit and drop some comments while you're at it. Finally, today I forced myself to write again and it is all because of a tortoise. Read further to find out how a tortoise got me started again...

To toughen up for the Gunung Irau climb (which will be my next blog, already partially written out in flickr), I took up jogging in this park behind my house and have continued since then. On my way back late last evening after the sun had almost completely sank below the tree lines, I came across what I thought was a small coconut in the middle of the concrete jogging track…

Nearing it, I discovered that it was a tortoise with its head and all limbs tightly tucked in. Some naughty boys must have caught it from the river, played with it and left it there. It must have been severely traumatized because it showed no sign of life…

I took it to the muddy bank and carefully placed it down in the shallow so that it sat on the mud. I waited for 10 minutes but there was still no sign of life. It was completely dark by now and I have to go. I told myself I will come back early next morning to check on it.

Just to know that it is still alive and took some shots from the place where I left it to mark the crossing of our paths. I overslept and it was about 11.00 am before I reached the bank but was happy to find that the tortoise was no longer there. It lives

The intense Malaysian sun was too high up to take good pictures and they did not switch the fountain on but I said “what the heck, I’m already here” so I took these shots anyway for me to post it up in flickr to share with my new friends there. So this post is actually written for flickr and modified for this blog. It used to be the other way round. I upload pictures into flickr so that I can easily transfer it to my blog. Whichever, it was a tortoise that made it happened.

I now jog here once or twice a week. Usually, I will jog for 20 to 25 minutes for almost a complete round of the lake and spend the rest of the hour listening to music while reflecting on life. This are time I'm beginning to enjoy, time spend completely with myself dwelling on old memories. A little sadness won't hurt anyone, I think.

In life and taking photos, I tried to see the beauty in ordinary things for I do believe that we have to be happy with what we have, rather than desperately seeking for what we have not. But I know it is not easy sometimes…

I see Beauty as a perception and it is not universal. Thus I tried to appreciate others’ appreciation of Beauty besides my own. I don’t succeed all the time.

But whether we do or not is not important. We are all unique in our own individual way and have our own special preference and taste. What is important is that we must learn not only to tolerate others’ preferences and decisions but also to accept that we have to respect others' choices if we want them to respect ours.

And we should not be so arrogant as to think that our appreciation of Beauty is the correct one. For indeed, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder” and we all see Beauty in different ways.

In the words of John Keats in his epic poem, Endymion he said -

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

And there are few things in Life whose Beauty is as universal as the flowers. Which is why I took so many pictures of them. Our life is not completely futile when we can still appreciate Beauty. So I spend a lot of time these days trying to capture and share them with my friends.

A Songwriter's Anguish - Part I

LLeft to Right: Wong Lip Kee - lead guitar; Shahril Eashak, bass; Peter Brown - harmonica, vocals, guitar; Markiza - vocals, keyboards; Alex Ang - drums.

(Click on the photo if you can't view it)

Soft Touch

The lowest paying job in England is a writer. We are talking about poverty rate. Forget about JK Rowling. She is an anomaly. She too was a starving writer before Harry Potter’s magic saved her. A poet does not fare better. Singers and songwriters belong to the same category. That is why pragmatic Asian parents forbid their children to be an artist – it is a life of struggle for their “art”. So few made a decent living off it. It is almost easier to strike the lottery and less grief.

So is there any different between a poet and a singer-songwriter? The poignant outpouring of frustration of one singer songwriter (Peter Brown) in Part II of “A Songwriter’s Anguish” suggested there is. One gets respect for the sacrifices he made while the other doesn’t. Because one is considered to be producing or attempting to produce “art” while the other is not (even if he is).

What is “art” then? Britannica stated it as "the use of skill and imagination in the creation of aesthetic objects, environments, or experiences that can be shared with others". I’ll put it simply as “any creation that moves heart and soul by its beauty”. And beauty is indeed in the eyes of the beholder. If comic moves me more than classic literature, then to me comic is a work of art. Pop songs moves and influences more lives than classical music but pop song and comic are rarely considered as work of arts.

I do not believe art belongs only to the elites. I do not believe art needs to be difficult. I do not believe art cannot entertain while it stirs. I do not believe what is easily accessible is not art. I do not believe what is easily understood is not art. I do not believe art cannot be main stream. I do not believe art should not be fun. I do not believe I need to know what art is from pretentious experts. I do not believe art need to be dead before it is considered art. I could go on all night but I will say I believe I can know what art is from the way it affects my heart. If I have to choose one word to describe what art is. I’ll choose “love”.

I believe art is intuitive as love is intuitive. I don’t have to know how or why it affects me. I don’t have to understand it. Most of all I don’t need others to tell me what should affect me. You do not need others to tell you who or how to love. Why should you need others to tell you what is art? If it is boring, it may be art to others but it is not to you. Don’t impose your values onto others but also don’t allow others to impose their values on you. Be free. Be bold.

If you love it, it is art to you and don’t be ashamed of it. I love classic literature, I love comics, I love poetry. I love classical music, I love sentimental songs, I love canto-pop. Simon Cowell may not understand country music but I do. I’m blessed.

Dare to appreciate the things that move you. Dare to love. Don’t listen to others. Listen to your heart. But you have to expose yourself to as many “art forms” as possible for a closed mind and a closed heart is the greatest enemy of art, of love too. You may not have found your true love yet. So go outside your comfort zone, expand and explore.

I do not know Peter Brown personally. But I had watched him performed in “No Black Tie” before. I had bought a couple of his CDs. He does what he passionately believes in all his life. That is the first sign of a true artist. But whether what he produced is art or not, that is for the audience to decide. He only asked for the chance for you to hear him sing.

Don’t put him in a little box and label him before he is heard. Don’t belittle his art form because the intellects considered it beneath them. Intellectualism is not art. In fact, you should never approach art with intellect. All you need I reiterate, is your heart. Throughout history, the intellect had been more wrong than right about what is art. The common man had never been wrong. They only need time and history to prove them right. But the intellect never learned. They continue to assert their role as the final and only authority on art and impose it on others.

Too many of us have been intimidated and brainwashed into accepting these values forced upon us by ‘higher’ intellect. The media is the greatest culprit and victim. They are only comfortable to recycle worn ideas because these are the accepted norm. So poetry will be promoted because it is art. There is nothing wrong with that except good poetry is art but bad poetry is not worth the paper it is printed on while there is a lot of good music going round. There are arts floating among them but will never have the chance to find their home because they are discriminated against. It is amazing that this generation that grew up with John Lennon’s “Imagine” still has not seen the light. This is the injustice Peter Brown is lamenting against. This is the injustice by which he is a victim of.

I want you to read this first and reflect a bit before you read the raw outpouring from his heart. For I fear you may not understand where he is coming from if you read him first and judge him too harshly for his outburst. I may not agree totally with the way he says it (but we need someone like him to every now and then shout it). You can feel his frustration in this lyrics from his “Better World”

I wanna make a little point
To the people up there in power
That life on Earth is being destroyed
Hour by hour
'Cause it gets so frustrating
When there's nothing you can do
You wanna tell these guys the truth
But you can't get the message through

Listen to his songs in You Tube & MySpace including “Better World” though this link www.myspace.com/lemangsofttouch

He deserves to be heard.

To be continued...