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Ants
Summer’s here. The days are long and ripe for seekers of pleasure and pandemonium. Dionysus sells his fruits cheaply, offers you your own desires disguised as sage advice: Drink, eat and make merry. Play while the sun is still out. Have fun.
It’s tempting, I tell you.
Yet as I lift my head from my sloth disguised as slogging, I see the great masters constantly moving, their days never end till they are done. They seem to know where they are heading, they know where the best songs in the end shall be sung. Great industry indeed, but where do they go?
I produce nothing for all my bustle and I envy the ants who are true Lords of their own domains, I envy the rewards of their honest labour, I envy them their direction and their certainty, I crave all these for I have none.
I want my own anthill, built with my own hands and sweat and canny, and I want a sense of my own destiny.
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Alphabet
This is her final investment.
She has had, in the past, speculated on various stocks. A, B, C. D, E, F. And so forth. You name it, she’s bought them all before. Even that querulous Q and that unwarranted U. And they have all failed her, spectacularly in some cases, tragically in most. Her faith and her courage is running low.
But she’s a businesswoman, an risk-taker through and through. Perhaps she didn’t dedicate enough of her time and resources before, the bets were too small, she didn’t do enough research, else she’d have known what a bad piece of shit that last one was, right?
This time, she’s gone for broke. She’s bet it all, everything, all her cards on the table. Stockcode: Z, let’s call it. Her last gamble.
We wait on the sidelines, her friends we are, and we pray for the best. We are softer creatures than she is, but we are hardier on the inside; we fall down, we’d whine and moan and wallow in self-pity for a couple of days, a week the most, and we’d get up again and play another game. But no, not she. She looks damn tough but this, this could kill her.
Please, her heart can’t take no more shattering. Please, don’t break her; there’s no piecing her up again.
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Generosity
He is a kind man, and a generous one. So quick to give and ask none in return; so swift to forgive and ask for no bridges to be burned. If only all men had hearts as big as his and the strength to contain them without exploding; or explode, but only in mirth, joy and good-will to everyone.
I learn not to be so petty, I learn to let go of the small stuff. Fighting and warring can never be done, till one side relinquishes his arms and his defenses as well, for if you hold a thirsty hammer or hide behind a brick wall, you’d have no hands free for shaking in peace or embracing enemies made brothers all.
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Understanding
Life’s tough, a wise man once said. If anyone had bothered to ask him further, he might have had added, “But living with someone else? That’s way tougher, man.”
You are alone. Fine. Sucks ass, but you deal with it. You meet someone. Sweet. That someone doesn’t run away when you fart or snore in your sleep or question why you talk to your mom on the phone ten times a day or don’t call at all (for decades). Sweeter still. You figure, hey — this must be what falling in love is like. It’s great! (The sex ain’t half bad either.) You move in together. You hunt for antiques at Jonker Street in Malacca and buy cheap furniture at IKEA together. You buy rings (or not). You get married (or not).
Damn, you’re hooked.
Life’s tough, but life’s also pretty damn good when you get this way. Luck, some call it. Sweetest.
The cracks always show, of course. Even in the beginning, even when you’re dating, even while you’re swooning in courtship or courting and catching. (Tip #1: Always get the roles right.) Small words. Big words. Or words not said at all. Or not said enough. There’s always something to cause you some hurting, and suddenly, you wonder, if this is part of package, can’t you just return it, and keep the bits that don’t bite so much?
When did the pain start? When does it stop?
It stops hurting the day we stop struggling to understand each other, the day we stop trying to be the same. You can’t bring two worlds together; they must stand apart or collide and both collapse. So what can we do, what do we do? Well, we can evolve.
We both have our work to do, to build our lives together, to build us. But it doesn’t have to be East or West or some odd, misshapened dish called Fusion either. It’s just us. You and me, whoever we are, together. (Tip#2: Those roles? Fuhgedahbouthem.)
You tell me you don’t understand half of what I’m writing. That’s okay, cos my friends? Most of them tell me the same thing too.
What matters is I can still bring a smile to your face. And may I have the honour and ability to do that always.
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Diva
We had stopped talking awhile back there, hadn’t we? Best friends aren’t supposed to be this distant; we aren’t supposed to live this far apart from each other. All our travelling and never our path did meet. Geography can be such a bitch.
It’s easy to say we live different lives now, but that’d be lame. We always did live different lives, that’s what drew us toward each other, no? Like Loki and Puck, like a pair of sadistic Laurel and Hardy. Two miserable, lonely, emotionally dysfunctional souls hardly needed any help or group therapy when they got each other. The Saturday afternoons spent reading books and magazines in the comfort of a Starbucks couch in the Borders bookstore at The Curve, the Sundays spent hiking at Bukit Gasing or climbing up the Batu Caves (and happily replenishing all the calories burned and then some on greasysweet roti pisang).
We were more innocent then, less battle-scarred and world-weary. Still, what time takes away, time replaces with better days.
We are less innocent now, yes. More experience, but not all of it bitter. It’s never all bitter, my friend. We age and we increase in wisdom (and in waistlines, but I shall leave that for another time). We are, to our shared astonishment, happier.
We don’t have to justify ourselves anymore. We know who we are together. The best of friends a cup of cappuccino can buy. We know all our jokes, even the new ones, before we say it, but it’s still fun telling them to each other. It’s always fun. We’re always fun, together.
Time to meet up for coffee, my dear.
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This little voice in my head, who does she command and for whom am I pretending? What I should be, who must I be, so God may lay his hands upon me and tell me that I am good. We tell ourselves we must strive and be ambitious, have dreams and realise them, play fair and reap what we sow, and above all, understand before we can be understood.
Bollocks, all that.
Why can’t I be the cricket, the lucky one who gets to go out and play, while all those ants scurry around, carrying shit and bits of hay? Why can’t I be irresponsible and drift till I fall off some bloody cliff somewhere, lost and forever never found? It’s all very tempting (that word again, tempting), but even this I’m afraid of.
It’s easier to be a cricket who pretends to be an ant, and slog mindlessly, or an ant who wishes he were a cricket, and never see what’s beyond the reach of the stars.
A cricket complaining about his life can sure make a whole lot of noise.
Amidst the delusions and the din, an ant came to me and said, “It’s much better to have a great life than a good one.”
He’s right. I have a good life, and for which I remind myself each day to be grateful for. I am so much more, though, and I can do more for all around me. We all are more than ourselves, no matter our circumstances or our reasons, we all can be better.
We can forgive ourselves for not being more, and start by doing now.
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Let me be the cricket, let me be the fool,
Let me be always the first to say I love you.
What does it matter if you don’t always say it back to me,
So long I’m in your arms, I know we shall always be free.
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~ * ~
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Words & design by Kenny Mah.
Source image from Insects, their way and means of living, R. E. Snodgrass.
what can i say..an inspiring post indeed. I shall sit back & slowly absorb the words..
Lots of deep thoughts about love and life! What brought it on?
Such beautiful words, as always. A perfect read on this beautiful Sunday morning
Let me always b the 1st to say i luv u.. And i am sorry! (i hfta learn ths.. For sure! Alas, ayam flawed!)
U and cuz make plenty sense! Luv d post.. Ru well again? No more runny nose i hope!
The complex mosaic of sensuous thoughts and reflections from cricket has got us stumped for answers and yes …we are lost and even cannot ask what now but , yes we think the answers lie beyond , near there
not as far as we think
wow babe…profound, heartfelt, and above all, sweet, sweet prose. Well written! Wish I had as much talent in writing
Wah, so long leh this post!
I like “Generosity” very much. We need more people like this in the world.
go and buy something la. it’ll will make u even better faster
I’m weary, I’m tired. I envy the ant, the bee, the cricket; they work hard and make merry all day. They make life, seems so much simple, so carefree. I know nothing of their woes — I know the grass is always greener on the other side; I will try to live a better life from now
i can’t tune in to the frequency of ur chirpings lah why u wanna be cricket –__–
“It’s just us. You and me, whoever we are, together.”
“We don’t have to justify ourselves anymore. We know who we are together.”
“We can forgive ourselves for not being more, and start by doing now.”
wise words, obiwan.
*imagines Kenny as Jiminy Cricket singing*
Don’t cross a bridge or peek ’round the corner until you’re there.
Just learn to smile, and in a while, you’ll find trouble’s a bubble of air.
Very long post for a Monday morning…have made myself a cup of coffee and sitting back now enjoying reading it lol
Hugs bro..I’ll have a cup of coffee with you anytime.
But trust me on the sunscreen
ROFL
phwahhh, so cheem (deep). i do hope your alphabet girl rebounds…how terrible to lose everything in one fell swoop. but then again, your posts are so deep and metaphorical, i am not even sure its a real person you’re referring to, or just symbolism. well, if she’s real, then my prayers are with her .….
Imagine KM the kindergarten teacher and teaching kinds such contemplative facts of life with every word in the Alphabet book.
Wonder how the kids will then turned out to be. Perhaps a better version of all of us? A bigger person? Always forgiving? Adventurous? Daring? Hard working? Or just busy playing cricket (sic)?
dude, if you are ever a cricket, you’ll be the noblest of them all. one that bleeds human and overflows with kindness. this lazy, ignorant pig me salute u on your admirable effort! u da man.
as for the kindergarten, u are sooooo not teaching them about dim sum!!! haha!
gosh this does struck a chord in me. all these seem to be buzzing in my life, me personally and also to my loved ones!
ants work hard and crickets play. we must balance both in our lives. agree?
if ever u were a cricket, you’d be called jiminy.…and the voice of conscience.…
Very deep thoughts, Kenny. We should be like your friend and be more generous to people around us. =)
” A cricket complaining about his life can sure make a whole lot of noise.”
it’s easier to complain than to do something abt our lives… less noise, more action! =)
Oh, I know, I know… It’s practically verbal diarrhoea, isn’t it? Blame me and a lazy Saturday evening with nada to do…
What brought it on? Hmm… Love? Life? Hehe.
Re-read this and well, I guess a more serious answer would be everything that is happening to various friends all around me, and also my own life in turn, as I realise these days I am travelling more and more for work, it is detrimental to some extent to my personal health, but also, amidst all the rush and bustle, me recognising the need to slow down and check with myself: Where are you going, dude?
This is sorta like the first few thoughts out of my brainbox… More to come, maybe.
Now you’re making me wonder what you had for breakfast this morning. Me, I had roti prata — kosong and telur, extra garing, with kari ikan. YUMMMS!!
Thanks, dear. I’m all recovered from the flu. Mostly cos I was a good boy and stayed in all day yesterday instead of running around the island during the Great Singapore Sale.
Ah, bro… you know you never have to ask what now… You prolly have all the answers before you already, and yes, it’s not as far as we think.
Om. Om.
Thanks, you! If my non-existent talent in writing were a mere 0.001% of your gifts in baking and cooking… uhm, I’d be a very, very, very good writer oredi!
Not “tempted” to buy anything? Great Singapore Sale wor.
Nope. This time, Temptation’s foiled by the hole in my wallet, haha.
We sure do. If everyone were like this, this world would be a much happier place. (With better food, too.)
Cannot lah… Broke since the Big UK Shopping Adventure…
Greener grass doesn’t always a good meal make nor a good home neither. Chomp on some fresh nori instead and be amazed at the colour and the pallor of the concrete jungle. Every day is amazing in itself, my friend.
every breath of air that i took, every moment that I stand on this ground; i wonder the existence of us. Why are we here, what do we do, what is life? Enlighten me my friend
Crickets were the only ones left in the Insect Department, Dr. Jun… Everyone else wanted to be a bee or a butterfly oredi…
haha, if i’m obiwan, where’s my queen amidala? lol
LOL … Oh, that’d be a sight, wouldn’t it? Me dressed up as Jiminy Cricket… or worse, SINGING!
This comment got stuck in the spam filter; just rescued it!
You’re such a sweetheart with your comments, btw. Hugs!
Ah, for a cuppa coffee in the morning and to relax and read something… May you have a brilliant day ahead, dear!
Ooh, I do trust you on the sunscreen… and geram lah… lupa bawak ke ofis pagi ni…
Ah, well.. there is a lil truth in everything I write I suppose, but one does have to hide identities… It’s a prayer, ‘Alphabet’, it is… and if it works out the way we pray for her, I may have another wedding to plan!
Thanks!
I remember, when I was nineteen, I wrote a short story titled ‘This My Story’ and within it was the fatal line, “There is no why.”
There are no why’s, my friend. We may keep seeking for answers, but really, sometimes I wonder if we even got the questions right.
I can offer you no better reply than the words of my beloved Rainer Maria Rilke (permanently quoted on my blog’s front page):
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions.”
It don’t matter if the questions or the answers hurt or heal; it’s true what they say — it’s all about the journey, the finding out. Have fun with yours, mate.
haha you are very good at psycho-ing others, too strong with words! heh. thanks
wise words again, master obiwan.
kidnapped by anakin skywalker? quickly, go rescue her! :p
Methinks it’s time to call you Skywalker. Question is, are you Luke or Anakin? Hmm…
Hmm, I think I rather go rescue Natalie Portman instead, haha.
Not psycho-ing lah… Though some have accused me of being a lil bit of a psycho on my better days, haha…
Methinks those kids would just turn out to be really, uhm, weird?
Man, I wouldn’t wish my brand of pseudo-teacherliness on my worst enemies’ kids…
1. Ah, there’s nothing ignorant about you, Mr. President of Babitarians Anonymous, sir. If anything, most of us learnt everything porcine + culinary like from you, didn’t we, kids?
2. Oooh. The dim sum. I almost forgot about those. Mmm, maybe time for a sequel, yathunk?
It all seems to revolve and re-cycle, dontcha agree? Or cycle anyway… That’s life… and I guess that’s why they call it the Circle of Life…
yea yea, no dim sum 101!
Awww, why ever not?
We had red capsicums, yellow mangoes and green cucumbers after a swim with mum. She said dad said we should always eat fruits/vege in that manner. Different colours have different nutrients
And then later we headed to Departure Lounge for Mushroom Meltie, Cuban Toastini and a Neptuna Salad. Equally yummms!
“Different colours have different nutrients.”
I like that. I wonder what dish could have all the colours of the rainbow. We should do that when we do dinner next — a Rainbow Salad…
lucky for natalie portman? :p
anakin, definitely. luke is too whiny but anakin grows up to be darth vader. awesome!
Haha, good argument, that.
Ms. Portman may well disagree…
Theodor Adorno once said, “Work while you work, play while you play.” And to balance between both is the art that our lives become.
The voice of constipation more likely, haha… Though that’d not be true either; I’m rather regular, really.
good luck on ur future weddings! =)
Generosity wins the day every day!
Danke, danke! Having one soon? I could help…
Signal to noise? Replace it with Signal to Action, mate!