Last week I read another interesting article in the International Herald Tribune - this time on consumer spending - which I'd like to share with my readers!
Stephanie Rosenbloom wrote about how consumers in the US are beginning to rethink about their spending pattern (cf. spending amount). The crux of it is that research (plus some people's own experiences) has shown that buying things will not bring as much happiness / fulfillment as spending money on experiences - so going to see a play, enrolling in language lessons, going on holidays etc, as opposed to buying, say, a Gucci bag, another i-phone, a leather jacket of the latest style.
I suppose there are many reasons why people (in the developed world at least) naturally like to accumulate things (some of which may be, strictly speaking, unnecessary) - there is the intense in-your-face advertising everywhere, things are a more tangible form of "reward" for one's hard work.
But it is not surprising really that spending on what Rosenbloom called experiences would generate more satisfaction.
If you're the sort who likes theatre/art, going to a play or an exhibition increases your appreciation for what you already like, it probably makes you feel good about developing your interests. You might even come out of the venue feeling like you don't need to buy too much stuff, that you're quite satisfied.
If you are into learning generally or have a burning desire to learn a new language, taking lessons can be fun (as well as frustrating I suppose!) and may give you a sense of money well spent, as you're gaining a new kind of knowledge - and it doesn't really matter whether it is a useful language, as there's intrinsic value in learning something.
If you like travelling or just going somewhere to take a break, enjoying a holiday usually (or should, at least in theory) improves your mood, helps you relax, takes your mind off the usual stuff which stresses you, and possibly broadens your horizon too depending on where you go and what you do.
Such "experiences", like many others, enhance our appreciation of life.
Things, on the other hand, which continue to scream out at us "BUY ME!", are more alluring in a way (especially if you're accustomed to a capitalistic society with tonnes of advertising), and they do seem to provide immense satisfaction (in my case, lasting for anywhere between two minutes to two days within the purchase), but such good feelings don't seem to last for very long, and the worst thing is, they seem to require constant "feeding" i.e. making another purchase!
Do you find all this quite perplexing? Because I do!
Monday 23 August 2010
Friday 20 August 2010
Off to Phnom Penh
I'm really excited about our trip to Cambodia tomorrow (despite the ungodly departure hour - budget airline hours).
We're going to be visiting several local projects run by members of the Chab Dai Coalition network which is the partnering network of Viva in Cambodia.
Chab Dai (literally “joining hands” in Khmer) aims to bring an end to trafficking and sexual exploitation through coalition building, community prevention, advocacy and research. There are currently 40 members in the coalition.
During the next week we will be learning first-hand from project workers on the ground about the issues of and solutions for trafficking and sexual exploitation in Cambodia.
For the past few months we have been hearing many good things about Chab Dai from friends and contacts outside Viva, so we're really looking forward to seeing their excellent work in one of the most hardcore, difficult fields in international development.
I hope to write about some of the projects next week.
We're going to be visiting several local projects run by members of the Chab Dai Coalition network which is the partnering network of Viva in Cambodia.
Chab Dai (literally “joining hands” in Khmer) aims to bring an end to trafficking and sexual exploitation through coalition building, community prevention, advocacy and research. There are currently 40 members in the coalition.
During the next week we will be learning first-hand from project workers on the ground about the issues of and solutions for trafficking and sexual exploitation in Cambodia.
For the past few months we have been hearing many good things about Chab Dai from friends and contacts outside Viva, so we're really looking forward to seeing their excellent work in one of the most hardcore, difficult fields in international development.
I hope to write about some of the projects next week.
Wednesday 18 August 2010
Rob on Breakfast TV on Channelnews Asia
Rob will be appearing on Primetime Morning on Channelnews Asia at 8.50am tomorrow, Thursday 19 Aug 2010.
If you have cable or are in Singapore, please switch on your telly if you can!
He will be talking about his 3 year, 30,000 mile solo bicycle expedition Cycling Home From Siberia on which he went through wild places such as Siberia, Papua New Guinea, Tibet, Afghanistan and Iran.
The second paperback edition of Rob's book Cycling Home From Siberia, which has received glowing reviews from the UK press, is now out and available from all major bookshops.
If you have cable or are in Singapore, please switch on your telly if you can!
He will be talking about his 3 year, 30,000 mile solo bicycle expedition Cycling Home From Siberia on which he went through wild places such as Siberia, Papua New Guinea, Tibet, Afghanistan and Iran.
The second paperback edition of Rob's book Cycling Home From Siberia, which has received glowing reviews from the UK press, is now out and available from all major bookshops.
Tuesday 17 August 2010
Rob on Radio 3 (RTHK) on Wed 18 Aug
Rob will be on Morning Brew on Radio 3 (RTHK) at around 11am tomorrow, Wed 18 Aug 2010.
Please tune in if you are in Hong Kong :)
The show's host will be chatting to Rob about his 3 year, 30,000 mile solo bicycle expedition Cycling Home From Siberia on which he went through wild places such as Siberia, Papua New Guinea, Tibet, Afghanistan and Iran.
The second paperback edition of Rob's book Cycling Home From Siberia, which has received glowing reviews from the UK press, is now out and available from all major bookshops.
Please tune in if you are in Hong Kong :)
The show's host will be chatting to Rob about his 3 year, 30,000 mile solo bicycle expedition Cycling Home From Siberia on which he went through wild places such as Siberia, Papua New Guinea, Tibet, Afghanistan and Iran.
The second paperback edition of Rob's book Cycling Home From Siberia, which has received glowing reviews from the UK press, is now out and available from all major bookshops.
Monday 16 August 2010
How Will You Measure Your Life (by an HBS guru)
Recently a good friend in Singapore forwarded a very interesting article written by Clayton M. Christensen who is the Robert and Jane Cizik Professor of Business Administration at Harvard Business School.
In his thought provoking article, Professor Christensen draws on his experiences in senior management and applies management models to one's personal life, and suggests some seemingly unconventional and useful approaches to life - I say seemingly unconventional as the principles sound like they go against the grain, but when one sits down to think about them, they make perfect sense!
He looked at the following questions:
1. How can I be sure that I’ll be happy in my career?
2. How can I be sure that my relationships with my spouse and my family become an enduring source of happiness?
3. How can I be sure I’ll stay out of jail? (it's a real question!)
I thought this particular paragraph addressing the second question was very poignant and challenging:
When people who have a high need for achievement—and that includes all Harvard Business School graduates—have an extra half hour of time or an extra ounce of energy, they’ll unconsciously allocate it to activities that yield the most tangible accomplishments. And our careers provide the most concrete evidence that we’re moving forward. You ship a product, finish a design, complete a presentation, close a sale, teach a class, publish a paper, get paid, get promoted. In contrast, investing time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and children typically doesn’t offer that same immediate sense of achievement. Kids misbehave every day. It’s really not until 20 years down the road that you can put your hands on your hips and say, “I raised a good son or a good daughter.” You can neglect your relationship with your spouse, and on a day-to-day basis, it doesn’t seem as if things are deteriorating. People who are driven to excel have this unconscious propensity to underinvest in their families and overinvest in their careers—even though intimate and loving relationships with their families are the most powerful and enduring source of happiness.
I'm suddenly struck by how we can often be shortsighted and, though not intentionally, neglect paying attention to that which has a long lasting impact on our lives.
Does anything from the article echo with you? Do you think it's possible, in our hectic lives, to not under-invest in what's more enduring and longer term?
In his thought provoking article, Professor Christensen draws on his experiences in senior management and applies management models to one's personal life, and suggests some seemingly unconventional and useful approaches to life - I say seemingly unconventional as the principles sound like they go against the grain, but when one sits down to think about them, they make perfect sense!
He looked at the following questions:
1. How can I be sure that I’ll be happy in my career?
2. How can I be sure that my relationships with my spouse and my family become an enduring source of happiness?
3. How can I be sure I’ll stay out of jail? (it's a real question!)
I thought this particular paragraph addressing the second question was very poignant and challenging:
When people who have a high need for achievement—and that includes all Harvard Business School graduates—have an extra half hour of time or an extra ounce of energy, they’ll unconsciously allocate it to activities that yield the most tangible accomplishments. And our careers provide the most concrete evidence that we’re moving forward. You ship a product, finish a design, complete a presentation, close a sale, teach a class, publish a paper, get paid, get promoted. In contrast, investing time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and children typically doesn’t offer that same immediate sense of achievement. Kids misbehave every day. It’s really not until 20 years down the road that you can put your hands on your hips and say, “I raised a good son or a good daughter.” You can neglect your relationship with your spouse, and on a day-to-day basis, it doesn’t seem as if things are deteriorating. People who are driven to excel have this unconscious propensity to underinvest in their families and overinvest in their careers—even though intimate and loving relationships with their families are the most powerful and enduring source of happiness.
I'm suddenly struck by how we can often be shortsighted and, though not intentionally, neglect paying attention to that which has a long lasting impact on our lives.
Does anything from the article echo with you? Do you think it's possible, in our hectic lives, to not under-invest in what's more enduring and longer term?
Friday 13 August 2010
Grooveshark
My dad recently sent me and my sisters a link to Grooveshark, a free online streaming music site.
I wasn’t expecting my dad to be that up-to-date with music and streaming and what not, so initially I didn’t think about the link much. But after checking it out we really love it!
It’s easy to use, you can find pretty much any song, the streaming works perfectly, and the most amazing thing is there doesn’t seem to be any ads!? We used to use Spotify (which apparently doesn’t work outside the UK) but got a bit annoyed whenever they blast unwanted ads in the middle of a song.
So do check it out (and let me know if you have any other recommendations)
And thank you to my dad, I’m impressed!
Thursday 12 August 2010
Pains and Joys II: The Art of Resting
I’m not sure about you, but I certainly experience considerable difficulties learning to take a proper break, rest and relax completely.
Yes, I’ve resisted the temptation to get another Blackberry, or one of its less-sinister offspring (like i-phones and the like) despite the fact that everyone on the planet seems to carry one of those. So one would have thought I should find it easier to “switch off” during the weekends, breaks or holidays. But I don’t.
I blame it on the fast pace of life in a place like Hong Kong. Like New York, Hong Kong is a city that never sleeps. The moment I step out of the building where we’re staying, I see scores of people walking at top speeds up and down the escalator, crossing the road (traffic lights become an annoying personality when I’m in a hurry), dodging in and out of queues, checking their phones, Blackberries or i-phones for messages. It’s not exactly the most relaxing picture.
I blame it on the Checklist Tendency in my working style. Like my dear friend Vicki who I worked with at Tearfund, we have both been profiled as the sort of worker who doesn’t feel good about the day of work unless we’ve checked a whole list of boxes for the tasks we’ve done/things we’ve achieved. With such a tendency (called “Achiever” according to Strengthsfinder), I’m always on the lookout for things to do, in order to “tick the box”. So, even when I’m not working on a Viva matter, say on my way down to post a letter, I think of the other 5 things I could also do on the way – turn on the washing machine, take out the rubbish, get stuff from the store, call my friend about dinner tomorrow, text my other friend to thank her for a great dinner last night, whilst also having a think about how to pitch Viva to the lunch party today.
Some people say it’s the inability to live in the present that prevents us from resting or pausing (and a load of other things). So even when I’m supposedly having a nice weekend doing nothing much, my mind involuntarily goes elsewhere, thinking about the coming Monday, or what should we eat for dinner tonight.
It seems like a disease, this inability to live in the present. It feels natural though, and is alluring and comforting to many, especially those of us who like to plan ahead. It feels like a disease because unless I get rid of it, it actually robs me of real life, of real living. If my mind is always in the future, I’m not really living now, am I?
On Sunday night Rob and I went to a retreat centre at the top of a hill on Cheung Chau, an outskirt island about an hour’s ferry ride from Hong Kong Island. We only spent less than 24 hours there, but even 24 hours away from the buzz and bustle of the city helped. We went there to try and quieten down, to spend some time with God – we feel we really need to be guided by Him particularly for our work with Viva. However, I don’t think one needs to have any religious reason for taking a break and doing something like a retreat. Being in a quiet place, away from normality, and practising silence (something I am very bad at) and just reading and reflecting on things, can be really beneficial for your health – physical, mental and emotional.
Again, I know the benefits of doing retreats, but it is so hard to actually get around to doing them. We have decided to put retreat dates in our diary (and book the room), well in advance, as that will help us to keep space for them, and be more intentional in punctuating our lives with full stops. We have found in the past that unless we did this, that months, or even years could pass without taking a retreat.
*a google search will easily find you good retreat placesWednesday 11 August 2010
Pains and Joys
There are several things I’m trying to “achieve” these days. And for many of these things I have had serious doubts about whether they’re achievable (not whether they are in theory, but in my own book). But their importance keeps hitting home, so I can’t quite ignore them.
The first thing is going running. I know the many benefits of it: health (especially when one contemplates the real possibility that one is aging, albeit slowly), de-stressing, and the feel-good-afterwards aspect of it. But I hate it. I hate the sweating, the pain (!), the stitches, the you-will-never-get-very-far sort of mindset I get into as soon as I start running, the head spinning - basically the price one pays for exercising when one is unfit.
For exercise, I prefer playing tennis – it is actually fun, interactive and sociable. There’s excitement and variation as opposed to repetition and monotony. I think we’ll get into our tennis again soon, after we retrieve our racquets from Rob’s parents’ in London. But at my level of skill, I don’t think playing tennis itself will get me fit or healthy, as most of the time at the end of the first 30 minutes of playing I would normally be panting like crazy, and be reminded again that I need to exercise more.
So Rob and I have started running a bit – my kind husband jogs with me all the way from where we’re house sitting (on Caine Road in Central, Hong Kong) to May Road, a route which involves almost constantly running up steep roads (I usually run the first stretch, and then walk-run the others). At 33 degrees Celsius, perhaps that’s another reason why running feels even more strenuous. Rob keeps telling me that it will get better - that the more I run the easier I will find – say after one month.
One month! That’s a long time. I’m not sure if I can do it, even though each time after I’ve done it I feel good and motivated to go running again, at least before my lazier self starts to throw me a thousand excuses.
The second “thing I am trying to achieve”, I suspect, a common issue for many, is taking a proper break. I’ll write about that tomorrow.
Monday 9 August 2010
The Unedited Version....
A few people have expressed an interest in reading the unedited version of the piece "High Cost of High Life" which came out in My Paper last week, so here it is!
Life without a Blackberry
Do you miss anything from your previous life? seems to be the favourite question which people ask me since I left the corporate world about 2.5 years ago. The fast money, the exotic holidays, the nice apartment where we threw many lavish dinner parties? Or the turquoise corporate Amex card, the slight air of importance I felt whenever I shook hands with clients in glass-roofed buildings? How about the Blackberry handheld device which I had carried with me almost religiously (to the point that some days it even graced the loo), with the blinking red light indicating the arrival of an email and consequently, my immediate attention.
Sure, a part of me misses the high life. Some days, a little voice whispers to me that all the perks which I had left behind were what made life enjoyable, that without them I cannot have a good quality of life.
2.5 years later, however, I do honestly question what kind of quality that sort of life really offered. It seems impossible to erase from my memory the hundreds of late nights, of being “on call” at weekends and evenings, the inability to plan any social activities during the week, and missing many important celebrations. The image of me crying on the phone at 5am in the New York office with my then boyfriend who was cycling in Australia remains etched in my mind. I was constantly exhausted and high (on Coke Light) at the same time. I felt like I was incessantly catching up on sleep, or out partying to make up for my loss.
Recently I visited Singapore and saw some old school friends. Most of my school friends had been straight A students and had gone on to various high flying careers. One guy, who I had not seen for 13 years, commented that I was brave to have left my very well paid job in order to pursue an alternative career in the charity sector. He quickly added that he loved his luxuries too much, so he had no choice but to continue to work his ass off. Feeling slightly surprised by his candour, and not wanting to offend an old friend, I smiled and mumbled something non-consequential. Later that evening I did wonder though, were the luxuries what he was actually living for?
A few months back I read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Don Miller who is a brilliantly thought-provoking writer. In his foreword, he described how nobody would want to watch a movie about a guy who worked very hard his whole life in order to buy a sports car in the end. None of us would be very inspired by such a plotline, but the sad fact is, so many of us do live spend our whole lives living a story just like that.
The transition has not been an easy ride – having to deal with head-on many deeply personal issues like my identity, insecurities and my attitudes towards money. However, even with all the struggles I have had to face in my new life, I’m not sure I really miss anything from the old one.
And I now read the red blinking light of a Blackberry as Beware, Danger – I am here to take over your life!
Christine Liu Lilwall grew up in Hong Kong and Singapore, and is married to adventurer and author Rob Lilwall. She worked in the City of London as a corporate lawyer until November 2007 and has since worked for several NGOs in international development and human rights. She has just finished volunteering on a project that works with former street children in Cebu, the Philippines, and regularly writes about her experience on her blog www.lifewithoutablackberry.com.
Life without a Blackberry
Do you miss anything from your previous life? seems to be the favourite question which people ask me since I left the corporate world about 2.5 years ago. The fast money, the exotic holidays, the nice apartment where we threw many lavish dinner parties? Or the turquoise corporate Amex card, the slight air of importance I felt whenever I shook hands with clients in glass-roofed buildings? How about the Blackberry handheld device which I had carried with me almost religiously (to the point that some days it even graced the loo), with the blinking red light indicating the arrival of an email and consequently, my immediate attention.
Sure, a part of me misses the high life. Some days, a little voice whispers to me that all the perks which I had left behind were what made life enjoyable, that without them I cannot have a good quality of life.
2.5 years later, however, I do honestly question what kind of quality that sort of life really offered. It seems impossible to erase from my memory the hundreds of late nights, of being “on call” at weekends and evenings, the inability to plan any social activities during the week, and missing many important celebrations. The image of me crying on the phone at 5am in the New York office with my then boyfriend who was cycling in Australia remains etched in my mind. I was constantly exhausted and high (on Coke Light) at the same time. I felt like I was incessantly catching up on sleep, or out partying to make up for my loss.
Recently I visited Singapore and saw some old school friends. Most of my school friends had been straight A students and had gone on to various high flying careers. One guy, who I had not seen for 13 years, commented that I was brave to have left my very well paid job in order to pursue an alternative career in the charity sector. He quickly added that he loved his luxuries too much, so he had no choice but to continue to work his ass off. Feeling slightly surprised by his candour, and not wanting to offend an old friend, I smiled and mumbled something non-consequential. Later that evening I did wonder though, were the luxuries what he was actually living for?
A few months back I read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Don Miller who is a brilliantly thought-provoking writer. In his foreword, he described how nobody would want to watch a movie about a guy who worked very hard his whole life in order to buy a sports car in the end. None of us would be very inspired by such a plotline, but the sad fact is, so many of us do live spend our whole lives living a story just like that.
The transition has not been an easy ride – having to deal with head-on many deeply personal issues like my identity, insecurities and my attitudes towards money. However, even with all the struggles I have had to face in my new life, I’m not sure I really miss anything from the old one.
And I now read the red blinking light of a Blackberry as Beware, Danger – I am here to take over your life!
Christine Liu Lilwall grew up in Hong Kong and Singapore, and is married to adventurer and author Rob Lilwall. She worked in the City of London as a corporate lawyer until November 2007 and has since worked for several NGOs in international development and human rights. She has just finished volunteering on a project that works with former street children in Cebu, the Philippines, and regularly writes about her experience on her blog www.lifewithoutablackberry.com.
Friday 6 August 2010
Am I happy and where am I going (on my birthday)?
Today is a special day for me. It's my birthday. So, for once, I'm letting myself be a little self-indulgent without beating myself up.
(Yes I do give myself a hard time, but that doesn't mean I stop sharing things which I feel are important - which to some people maybe a sign of self indulgence?)
Anyway.
A couple of questions which I naturally ask on such an occasion are:
- Am I happy with where I am?
- Where am I going?
Happiness. This seems to be on the forefront of everyone's mind these days - you see it in the bestseller sections in book shops, you read about it in forwarded emails, you can't help but notice all the appeals to YOUR HAPPINESS in ads and commercials ranging from types of coffee beans to the latest i-phones to your next holiday destination.
I can't say I'm happy or unhappy really, as happiness is a really hard word to use. No one is happy all the time, or unhappy all the time (except I guess for people who suffer from depression - which is really hard). And whether one is happy or unhappy, sometimes, depends on one's own perception and is relative.
For example, I wake up happy because I know today is my day off, but I get even happier when Rob cooks me my favourite breakfast, but if it rains do I then become unhappy or less happy as we may not have as good a day as we could have? It's a silly example but what is happiness? It seems too transient a concept to be meaningful.
So, I guess maybe I should rephrase - Am I fulfilled, and satisfied with where I am?
Fulfillment is a difficult concept too, but I think it's a better measuring criterion than happiness. Of course, fulfillment is never constant, but at least it goes deeper than just happiness (in my opinion at least).
Working in the charitable world is not always fulfilling, contrary to popular opinion. There are frustrations too of course. But I'm really excited about what's about to happen!
We're now in Hong Kong to start working for Viva, an international Christian children at risk charity. Their vision is to optimise what is an already saturated field - the field of charities and projects working with children.
There are many out there helping the world in all sorts of wonderful ways. But often, especially in the case of the many small grassroot projects started by well meaning local people, they are (through no fault of their own) disconnected, poorly equipped and unsupported. Their workers often have little funds to work with, no fancy laptops which may be available to the top international NGOs, and they don't have many opportunities to be trained and supported in this very difficult field of work.
Viva's vision is to help these projects get connected, equipped and supported so that they can do their work better. Viva helps achieve this by finding where projects are, linking them up so they can share tips and know-how with one another. They also provide training and mentoring to equip projects in what they do.
So it's very exciting to see how we can share Viva's vision and passion with the people of Hong Kong, and invite them to join in this exciting venture.
(And writing helps me to feel fulfilled, in a way)
Which leads me to the second question:
Where am I going?
The answer is: no idea.
Whereas most of my friends are busy getting on with their plans of babies, buying their first (or second or third flat) and planning their careers, Rob and I have no idea where we could be possibly heading towards!
We've committed to working for Viva for an initial two years here in Hong Kong. Rob has lots of exciting things on the side - his corporate speaking, his book coming out in the US next year, his other writing, possible new adventures, whereas I'm focussing more on Viva plus some writing which I really like doing.
Where are we going? We haven't got a clue!
Don't get me wrong, I don't like uncertainties. I hate uncertainties so much that they make me break down and cry sometimes. But I've decided (and will have to decide again) that it's okay, it's okay to take risks; in fact we need to take risks in life - we only get to live once, and more importantly, God calls us to take risks for Him.
Daunted but hopeful and excited - it's a good place to be I think.
(Yes I do give myself a hard time, but that doesn't mean I stop sharing things which I feel are important - which to some people maybe a sign of self indulgence?)
Anyway.
A couple of questions which I naturally ask on such an occasion are:
- Am I happy with where I am?
- Where am I going?
Happiness. This seems to be on the forefront of everyone's mind these days - you see it in the bestseller sections in book shops, you read about it in forwarded emails, you can't help but notice all the appeals to YOUR HAPPINESS in ads and commercials ranging from types of coffee beans to the latest i-phones to your next holiday destination.
I can't say I'm happy or unhappy really, as happiness is a really hard word to use. No one is happy all the time, or unhappy all the time (except I guess for people who suffer from depression - which is really hard). And whether one is happy or unhappy, sometimes, depends on one's own perception and is relative.
For example, I wake up happy because I know today is my day off, but I get even happier when Rob cooks me my favourite breakfast, but if it rains do I then become unhappy or less happy as we may not have as good a day as we could have? It's a silly example but what is happiness? It seems too transient a concept to be meaningful.
So, I guess maybe I should rephrase - Am I fulfilled, and satisfied with where I am?
Fulfillment is a difficult concept too, but I think it's a better measuring criterion than happiness. Of course, fulfillment is never constant, but at least it goes deeper than just happiness (in my opinion at least).
Working in the charitable world is not always fulfilling, contrary to popular opinion. There are frustrations too of course. But I'm really excited about what's about to happen!
We're now in Hong Kong to start working for Viva, an international Christian children at risk charity. Their vision is to optimise what is an already saturated field - the field of charities and projects working with children.
There are many out there helping the world in all sorts of wonderful ways. But often, especially in the case of the many small grassroot projects started by well meaning local people, they are (through no fault of their own) disconnected, poorly equipped and unsupported. Their workers often have little funds to work with, no fancy laptops which may be available to the top international NGOs, and they don't have many opportunities to be trained and supported in this very difficult field of work.
Viva's vision is to help these projects get connected, equipped and supported so that they can do their work better. Viva helps achieve this by finding where projects are, linking them up so they can share tips and know-how with one another. They also provide training and mentoring to equip projects in what they do.
So it's very exciting to see how we can share Viva's vision and passion with the people of Hong Kong, and invite them to join in this exciting venture.
(And writing helps me to feel fulfilled, in a way)
Which leads me to the second question:
Where am I going?
The answer is: no idea.
Whereas most of my friends are busy getting on with their plans of babies, buying their first (or second or third flat) and planning their careers, Rob and I have no idea where we could be possibly heading towards!
We've committed to working for Viva for an initial two years here in Hong Kong. Rob has lots of exciting things on the side - his corporate speaking, his book coming out in the US next year, his other writing, possible new adventures, whereas I'm focussing more on Viva plus some writing which I really like doing.
Where are we going? We haven't got a clue!
Don't get me wrong, I don't like uncertainties. I hate uncertainties so much that they make me break down and cry sometimes. But I've decided (and will have to decide again) that it's okay, it's okay to take risks; in fact we need to take risks in life - we only get to live once, and more importantly, God calls us to take risks for Him.
Daunted but hopeful and excited - it's a good place to be I think.
Thursday 5 August 2010
The Pacific
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. - The Bible
I’m not normally a big fan of war movies.
Last night, after Rob and I finished watching The Pacific DVD, an HBO mini series, we found ourselves sitting on the sofa, astounded and moved. The Pacific is a 10-episode TV series about World War II, focussing on what happened in the islands in the Pacific (between Japan and Australia). History is not exactly my strongest subject, so this was particularly educational for me. I hadn’t realise that a lot more (at least in Western media) has been written or screened about WWII in Europe than WWII in Asia, and that the war in many ways was a lot uglier and horrific in the East. As the Japanese army refused to surrender in all of the islands which Japan occupied then (which the American army had to invade, one by one, in order to get to mainland Japan), the Americans had to fight every inch of the occupied territories and kill every Japanese soldier in the long drawn war.
I don’t normally like movies or TV with too much violence, and I generally find war stories a bit too macho (and dull in terms of colour – jungle colours). But I have to admit that I really liked the Pacific, not least because it was educational in terms of what happened in history, but more so because it showed in a real way the horrors of war, both the highs and lows of humanity, and how war, no matter how justified it is, is really bad for us – the world.
The Pacific does not glorify war, so even as it got to the point of the Japanese surrender, there was no outright display of jubilation (though there was cause for it, as the war had ended). As for the Marines who had been fighting for years, losing fellow men in their platoons, they found themselves wondering what was next – they had known in their prime a life of repeated, senseless violence, desperate survival, death and loss in the most unimaginable gruelling conditions, and now they had to go back to “normal life”, when life could never quite be normal again.
No doubt this mini series has made me appreciate our time of (relative) peace, but it has also reminded me not to forget those who are still at war in so many places. Again, it’s one of those things that can so easily overwhelm us (and in a way, it should, as the problem is so serious and so vast), but we should not lose heart. Let’s urge our government leaders and all those in high positions to work towards real, lasting peace, and in our own lives, work hard towards reconciliation.
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Optionless
The past few months of volunteering in the Philippines have been very educational in all sorts of ways. Two particular recent events made me realise again how difficult life can be for those who are physically unwell or seriously ill in a less economically developed part of the world.
During our time in Cebu, one evening, whilst we were travelling to an event with CFA, one of the children developed a high fever. At 6 years old, J has a petite physique, almond-shaped eyes and curly hair that hung loosely on her shoulders. Her name in Cebuano actually means a particular bird, which I have always thought is very apt, as when J speaks she does sound like a little bird singing melodiously.
J doesn’t normally cry easily but she was whimpering when I tried to help her swallow some medicine. I carried her to one of the vehicles, laid her on the seats and, in the dark, started to wipe her little body with wet cloths. I felt terrible when she couldn’t take in much water.
Her whole body felt like a furnace. Some Nehemiah girls came by the bus and said a prayer for her. I tried to comfort J by promising her some sweets when she got better.
After an hour, the fever subsided considerably. I almost cried when J finally sat up and started sipping some Coke (for the lack of better alternatives) and eating some biscuits. When we finally went home she sat on my lap whilst I held a damp towel to her forehead, and she must have been feeling a lot better as she started chirping away to her favourite Kuya (older brother).
That evening I was struck by how helpless one must feel when a child whom you care about is not well, especially if you couldn’t afford any medical help. And we, including J, are actually the lucky ones – so many don’t have access to any medical help, and even more don’t have access to clean drinking water. One of the feeding team workers told me the same night that when a street child becomes ill, he or she will usually have no choice but to bear it and hope and pray that they will get better. And the sad fact is sometimes they don’t.
Last week, in Manila, in a different context, the staff worker at a project we visited came to us with a different sort of very serious need. Leading us into her kitchen, she introduced us to her frail and pale faced son. Sitting on a bamboo chair and leaning against the window, he had tubes coming out of his nostrils and at the side of his neck there was a big patch of plaster covering a wound. The boy looked younger than his real age, and he was staring, expressionless, at the television.
He needed a new kidney, she explained, showing us several bottles of medicine which he needed to take continuously to stay alive, and to pay for the new kidney and operation would cost several million pesos (several tens of thousands of pounds).
My first thought was: oh no, not another need again. We have seen a lot of need just in the past few months.
We looked at her, and then at the boy who was still expressionless – as if to say that he had seen this scene many times before, where the visitors, though moved upon hearing about their plight, were unable to help.
Our friend said he would try to speak to the board of directors to see what they could do. We then left the little house with our hearts still sinking.
And then it occurred to me that, if I were the mother, I would have done exactly the same as what the lady did – to ask for help wherever possible. She wasn’t hysterical or breaking down in tears, she didn’t beg us, but she did tell us that she needed help. There was nothing shameful or undignified. She had no choice, nowhere to turn to; all she could do is ask.
During our time in Cebu, one evening, whilst we were travelling to an event with CFA, one of the children developed a high fever. At 6 years old, J has a petite physique, almond-shaped eyes and curly hair that hung loosely on her shoulders. Her name in Cebuano actually means a particular bird, which I have always thought is very apt, as when J speaks she does sound like a little bird singing melodiously.
J doesn’t normally cry easily but she was whimpering when I tried to help her swallow some medicine. I carried her to one of the vehicles, laid her on the seats and, in the dark, started to wipe her little body with wet cloths. I felt terrible when she couldn’t take in much water.
Her whole body felt like a furnace. Some Nehemiah girls came by the bus and said a prayer for her. I tried to comfort J by promising her some sweets when she got better.
After an hour, the fever subsided considerably. I almost cried when J finally sat up and started sipping some Coke (for the lack of better alternatives) and eating some biscuits. When we finally went home she sat on my lap whilst I held a damp towel to her forehead, and she must have been feeling a lot better as she started chirping away to her favourite Kuya (older brother).
That evening I was struck by how helpless one must feel when a child whom you care about is not well, especially if you couldn’t afford any medical help. And we, including J, are actually the lucky ones – so many don’t have access to any medical help, and even more don’t have access to clean drinking water. One of the feeding team workers told me the same night that when a street child becomes ill, he or she will usually have no choice but to bear it and hope and pray that they will get better. And the sad fact is sometimes they don’t.
Last week, in Manila, in a different context, the staff worker at a project we visited came to us with a different sort of very serious need. Leading us into her kitchen, she introduced us to her frail and pale faced son. Sitting on a bamboo chair and leaning against the window, he had tubes coming out of his nostrils and at the side of his neck there was a big patch of plaster covering a wound. The boy looked younger than his real age, and he was staring, expressionless, at the television.
He needed a new kidney, she explained, showing us several bottles of medicine which he needed to take continuously to stay alive, and to pay for the new kidney and operation would cost several million pesos (several tens of thousands of pounds).
My first thought was: oh no, not another need again. We have seen a lot of need just in the past few months.
We looked at her, and then at the boy who was still expressionless – as if to say that he had seen this scene many times before, where the visitors, though moved upon hearing about their plight, were unable to help.
Our friend said he would try to speak to the board of directors to see what they could do. We then left the little house with our hearts still sinking.
And then it occurred to me that, if I were the mother, I would have done exactly the same as what the lady did – to ask for help wherever possible. She wasn’t hysterical or breaking down in tears, she didn’t beg us, but she did tell us that she needed help. There was nothing shameful or undignified. She had no choice, nowhere to turn to; all she could do is ask.
Monday 2 August 2010
Overdose? Part 2
By Thursday, the second years were looking rather despondent as they examined the roses in Bottle B, while I tried desperately to encourage them to keep making their observations and wait and see what happened in the end.
On Friday, with the Paracetamol roses looking very distinctly the deadest of all, we talked through the experiment as a class, and concluded that we should repeat the experiment, on the assumption that, maybe, the dosage of Paracetamol was too high. For the new experiment therefore, we would use more bottles, with more roses, and also have some bottles with smaller amounts of Paracetamol.
Over the weekend, perplexed, I decided to do what I should have done much earlier – a Google search to find the amount of Paracetamol I should have used! However, instead of finding hundreds of websites with immediate answers I found only one which claimed that rather than Paracetamol, it was actually Aspirin which contained a particular chemical that acts as a plant hormone, the presence of which makes the plant retain water better, and hence the growth process slows down. This site also explained that often people can confuse Aspirin with Paracetamol as both drugs are painkillers available over the counter in pharmacies.
Evidently the textbook, written by some PhD expert in Biology (who had never met, or perhaps never even been a child), proved to be completely unreliable in this instance.
It was already past 7pm on Sunday night when I made this “discovery” so Rob and I made a quick dash to the nearest pharmacy to get some Aspirin. The next morning I woke up with a new nervousness – I had to convince the second years that we were mistaken the first time, and also the second time when we reassessed the experiment, and now we needed to redesign it again. I wondered if they were going to distrust science teachers from now on.
Rob was, on the other hand, cheerful and upbeat. He thought the best kind of experiment was the sort for which you didn’t necessarily know what the result might be. Which I agreed – to an extent – but nonetheless I thought it would be rather unsettling for a bunch of young minds which were beginning to find their bearings in education.
The second years, to their credit, were understanding and their enthusiasm didn’t vanish as I explained my findings to them. They came up with a good set up for yet another experiment and this time we would have two bottles containing different amounts of Paracetamol, two bottles containing different amounts of Aspirin and one bottle as the control.
So, in our last week of teaching at Nehemiah, we launched Experiment Take Two. By the end of the week, whilst all the other roses had wilted, some of the ones immersed in water with dissolved Aspirin, though rather tired-looking, were still alive.
I couldn’t help but notice that the students were relieved to observe a result that made some sense.
Perhaps our next project should be to write to the authors of the textbook with the findings of our Real Experiment. Suggested hypothesis: Aspirin, not Paracetamol, prolongs the life of roses.
On Friday, with the Paracetamol roses looking very distinctly the deadest of all, we talked through the experiment as a class, and concluded that we should repeat the experiment, on the assumption that, maybe, the dosage of Paracetamol was too high. For the new experiment therefore, we would use more bottles, with more roses, and also have some bottles with smaller amounts of Paracetamol.
Over the weekend, perplexed, I decided to do what I should have done much earlier – a Google search to find the amount of Paracetamol I should have used! However, instead of finding hundreds of websites with immediate answers I found only one which claimed that rather than Paracetamol, it was actually Aspirin which contained a particular chemical that acts as a plant hormone, the presence of which makes the plant retain water better, and hence the growth process slows down. This site also explained that often people can confuse Aspirin with Paracetamol as both drugs are painkillers available over the counter in pharmacies.
Evidently the textbook, written by some PhD expert in Biology (who had never met, or perhaps never even been a child), proved to be completely unreliable in this instance.
It was already past 7pm on Sunday night when I made this “discovery” so Rob and I made a quick dash to the nearest pharmacy to get some Aspirin. The next morning I woke up with a new nervousness – I had to convince the second years that we were mistaken the first time, and also the second time when we reassessed the experiment, and now we needed to redesign it again. I wondered if they were going to distrust science teachers from now on.
Rob was, on the other hand, cheerful and upbeat. He thought the best kind of experiment was the sort for which you didn’t necessarily know what the result might be. Which I agreed – to an extent – but nonetheless I thought it would be rather unsettling for a bunch of young minds which were beginning to find their bearings in education.
The second years, to their credit, were understanding and their enthusiasm didn’t vanish as I explained my findings to them. They came up with a good set up for yet another experiment and this time we would have two bottles containing different amounts of Paracetamol, two bottles containing different amounts of Aspirin and one bottle as the control.
So, in our last week of teaching at Nehemiah, we launched Experiment Take Two. By the end of the week, whilst all the other roses had wilted, some of the ones immersed in water with dissolved Aspirin, though rather tired-looking, were still alive.
I couldn’t help but notice that the students were relieved to observe a result that made some sense.
Perhaps our next project should be to write to the authors of the textbook with the findings of our Real Experiment. Suggested hypothesis: Aspirin, not Paracetamol, prolongs the life of roses.
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