One day a young man, a stranger, who shone with the vigour of youth, came to the town square, gathered all the people around and proclaimed, “Listen folks! Look at my heart! Isn’t it is the most beautiful heart in this whole valley!”

The large crowd, who was attracted by his charisma and bold words, could not but admire his heart - for it was indeed perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. They just nodded their heads in complete agreement; it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen.

The young man was now swimming in pride; he was over the top with excitement as everyone was praising his personality, and especially his heart. Now he raised his voice even more and asserted, “Dear folks! You are looking at the most beautiful of this entire region!” And the audience vociferously cheered him, except one old man.

This senior gentlemen, slightly bent in the back, but whose face radiated serenity, came near this young man and said, “Why, your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”

At this point, many in the crowd actually started laughing, because the old man’s heart indeed looked very odd. It was beating strongly, no doubt, but was full of scars; it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in here and there, which didn’t fit quite right and there were too many jagged edges around the outside of the heart. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing. It was really a pathetic sight to behold, completely contrary to the beautiful one of the young man.

Several in the crowd thought the old man was probably out of his mind, because there was no way one could compare his heart with that of the young man. And now the young man himself laughed sarcastically and said, “Grandpa! I know you are kidding! Just look at my heart, how perfect it is!”

The old man then gently replied, “Yes, my dear young man, yours is a gorgeous one, however I would never trade mine with you.” Everyone around now became inquisitive; the noise level reduced considerably. When there a semblance of silence, the old man continued in a soft and tempered tone, “You see, every scar in my heart represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart too which fits into the empty place in my heart. But because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges. But I love them and in fact cherish them, because they remind me of the love we shared.”

The old man was now quiet for a while, and then smiled and continued, “You know, there have been times when I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned anything back to me. These are the empty gouges - giving love is taking a chance. Although these deep holes are painful, they stay open, reminding me always of the love I have for these people, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting.”

He now fixed his gaze upon the young man and remarked gravely, “So now do you see what true beauty and love is, dear young man?”

The proud youth slowly felt his pride being washed away by the tears running silently down his cheeks. He felt humbled by the simple wisdom that the old teacher had bestowed on him. He now walked up to the old man, and stood in front of him. And then reached into his perfect, young and beautiful heart, and them was heard a loud cry as he ripped a piece out of his precious heart. With trembling hands and teary eyes, he presented it to the old man.

The wise old man accepted his offering, placed it in his heart and then lovingly took a piece from his old and scarred heart and placed it in the newly created wound in the young man’s heart. It did fit the place, but not perfectly, as there were some misshapen edges.

After this instant, the young man looked at his heart; it was not perfect anymore, but he was not sad. For, though not of the perfect shape as before, his heart was now more beautiful and more fulfilling than ever since love from the old man’s heart now flowed into his. He felt more whole as new life coursed through his soul.

The Sanskrit name for the heart is hrudaya (hru + daya). Daya means compassion. Therefore, for a heart to be called a heart it must be filled with compassion. In fact, by definition, a heart is one which is an ocean of compassion.

The next moment, two men embraced and started to walk quietly side by side. The crowd too was speechless; they just silently made a way of the two. It was too profound and powerful a lesson to sink in easily; everyone who was a witness to this could not but start reflecting about the status of their own hearts…and how they could at least from that moment onwards try to make it more beautiful in the true way.

The Sanskrit name for the heart is hrudaya (hru + daya). Daya means compassion. Therefore, for a heart to be called a heart it must be filled with compassion. In fact, by definition, a heart is one which is an ocean of compassion. If we say we have a heart, let it show in small or big but genuine acts of kindness. For, when we do this, whether we are of any substantial help to the other person or not, we would surely have benefited ourselves as we will begin to experience a joy that is absolutely incomparable to anything else in this world.

Do cherish what you have and take things one step at a time.

45 LESSONS OF LIFE
By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland,
Ohio

“To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I’ve ever written. My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone…
4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.
8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first pay cheque.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.
12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their
journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one
is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no
for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie.
Don’t save it for a special occasion, Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ‘In five years,
will this matter?’
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.
35. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative — dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s,
we’d grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.”

There was one particular day, when I had an emergency at work. Hence, I had to leave home whilst my child was still sleeping. So thinking that there were still rice leftovers, I hastily cooked an egg and left after informing my sleepy child.

With the double roles, I am often exhausted at work as well as when I am home. So after a long day, I came home, totally drained of all energy. So with just a brief hug and kiss for my child, I went straight into the room, skipping dinner. However, when I jumped into my bed with intention of just having a well-deserved sleep, all i heard and felt was broken porcelain and warm liquid! I flipped open my blanket, and there lies the source of the ‘problem’… a broken bowl with instant noodles and a mess on the bed sheet and blanket!

Boy, was I mad! I was so furious that I took a clothes hanger, charged straight at my child who was happily playing with his toy, and give him a good spanking! He merely cried but not asking for mercy, except a short explanation:

“Dad, I was hungry and there wasn’t anymore leftover rice. But you were not back yet; hence I wanted to cook some instant noodles. But I remembered you reminding me not to touch or use the gas stove without any adults around, hence I turned on the shower and used the hot water from the bathroom to cook the noodles. One is for you and the other is for me.

However, I was afraid that the noodles will turn cold, so I hid it under the blanket to keep it warm till you return. But I forgot to remind you because I was playing with my toys…I am sorry Dad…”

At that moment, tears were starting to run down my cheeks…but I didn’t want my son to see his dad crying so I dashed into the bathroom and cried with the shower head on to mask my cries. After that episode, I went towards my son to give him a tight hug and applied medication on him, while coaxing him to sleep. Then, it was time to clear up the mess on the bed. When everything was done and well past midnight, I passed my son’s room, and saw that he was still crying, not from the pain on his little buttock, but from looking at the photograph of his beloved mummy.

A year has passed since the episode, I have tried, in this period, to focus on giving him both the love of his dad and mum, and to attend to most of his needs. And soon, he is turning seven, and will be graduating from kindergarten. Fortunately, the incident did not leave a lasting impression on his childhood memories and he is still happily growing up.

However, not so long ago, I hit my boy again, with much regret. This time, his kindergarten teacher called, informing me of my son’s absence from school. I took off early from work and went home, expecting him to explain. But he wasn’t to be found, so I went around our house, calling out his name and eventually found him outside a stationery shop, happily playing computer games. I was fuming, brought him home and whack the hell out of him. He did not retaliate, except to say, ‘I am sorry, Dad’. But after much probing, I realized that it was a ‘Talent Show’ organized by his school and the invite is for every student’s mummy. And that was the reason for his absence as he has no mummy…..

Few days after the caning, my son came home to tell me, the kindergarten has recently taught him how to read and write. Since then, he has kept to himself and stayed in his room to practice his writing, which I am sure, would make my wife proud, if she was still around. Because he makes me proud too!

Time passes by very quickly, and soon another year has passed. It’s winter, and its Christmas time. Everywhere the Christmas spirit is in every passer-by…Christmas carols and frantic shoppers….but alas, my son got into another trouble. When I was about to knock off from the day’s work, the post office called. Due to the peak season, the post master was also on an edgy mood. He called to tell me that my son has attempted to post several letters with no addressee. Although I did make a promise never to hit my son again, I couldn’t help but to hit him as I feel that this child of mine is really beyond control. Once again, as before, he apologized, ‘ I’m sorry, Dad’ and no additional reason to explain. I pushed him towards a corner, went to the post office to collect the letters with no addressee and came home, and angrily questioned my son on his prank, during this time of the year.

His answer, amidst his sobbing, was : The letters were for Mummy. My eyes grew teary, but I tried to control my emotions and continued to ask him: “But why did u post so many letters, at one time?” My son’s reply was: “I have been writing to mummy for a long time, but each time I reach out for the post box, it was too high for me, hence I was not able to post the letters. But recently, when I went back to the postbox, I could reach it and I sent it all at once…”

After hearing this, I was lost. Lost at not knowing what to do, what to say….

I told my son, ” Son, mummy is in the heavenly kingdom, so in future, if you have anything to tell her, just burn the letter and it will reach mummy. My son, on hearing this, was much pacified and calm, and soon after, he was sleeping soundly. On promising that I will burn the letters on his behalf, I brought the letters outside, but couldn’t help opening the letter before they turn to ash.

And one of the letters broke my heart….

Dear Mummy,
I miss you so much! Today, there was a ‘Talent Show’ in school, and the school invited all mothers for the show. But you are not around, so I did not want to participate as well. I did not tell Dad about it as I was afraid that Dad would start to cry and miss you all over again. Dad went around looking for me, but in order to hide my sadness, I sat in front of the computer and started playing games at one of the shops. Dad was furious, and he couldn’t help it but scolded and hit me, but I did not tell him the real reason. Mummy, everyday I see Dad missing you and whenever he think of you, he is so sad and often hide and cry in his room. I think we both miss you very very much. Too much for our own good I think. But Mummy, I am starting to forget your face. Can you please appear in my dreams so that I can see your face and remember you? I heard that if you fall asleep with the photograph of the person whom you miss, you will see the person in your dreams. But mummy, why haven’t you appeared?

After reading the letter, I can’t stop sobbing. Because I can never replace the irreplaceable gap left behind by my wife….

For the females with children:

Don’t do so much overtime. If you cannot finish the work, it must be some kind of problems within the company, and it is not your sole problem.

Feedback to your boss. Endless overtime may not necessary be the answer to the problem. Take care of your health so that you can treasure and take care of your little precious.

For the married men:

Drink less, smoke less, because nothing can replace your good health, not even business nor clients.

Try thinking this way, are you able to work till your clients are totally dependent on you? Or your boss is totally dependent on you? In this society, no one is indispensable.

Take care of your health, so that you can take care of your little precious and your loved ones.

For those singles out there:

Beauty lies in loving yourself first.

With confidence and loving yourself, you will see the beauty in other things around you. You will be able to work better and happier. Don’t let your health be affected by your work or your boss, so nothing matters more than your well being.

“QUIT! GIVE UP! YOU’RE BEATEN!”
They shout and plead,
There’s just too much against you now,
this time you can’t succeed.
And as I start to hang my head
in front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken
by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened
will as I recall that scene.
For just the thought of that short
race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race, young boys, young men;
now I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear;
it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope. Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes of fire.
To win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, “My dad will be so proud.”

But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope. He couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell, his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done - behind a bit, that’s all,
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quite before with only one disgrace.
I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
That steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race.”

So, he jumped up to try again. Ten yards behind the last.
If I’m to gain those yards, he thought, I’ve got to run real fast.
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
There’s no sense running anymore - three strikes and I’m out - why try?
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had flew away.
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.

I’ve lost, so what’s the use, he thought, I’ll live with my disgrace.
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low. “Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here, get up and win the race.”

With borrowed will, “Get up,” it said, “You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is not more than this, to rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to win once more. And with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been.
Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he’d rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as he crossed first place.
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud;
You would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his Dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me you won,” his father said, “You rose each time you fell.”

And when things seemed dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy - helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and down and all,
And all you have to do to win - is rise each time you fall.
“Quit!” “GIVE UP, YOU’RE BEATEN.” They still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says, “GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

-Dee Groberg-

To a certain extent, we all have some form of “disability” in our lives. For some of us, the only disability we have is the disability between our 2 ears i.e. the disability in our minds…& we constantly limit our own potential. For others like Nick, the difference is: their “disability” is visible, that’s all.

Helen Keller once said this when a reporter asked her what could be worse than being blind? She replied: “To have sight & not see.” Helen Keller was blind but she had a vision of her future and she went on to become one of the most famous authors & speakers around the world. Until today, her legacy remains. Yet, there are many who have sight but no vision

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow”. Nick Vujicic - we salute you for your courage and strength.

She was born with cerebral palsy, a condition caused by brain damage which affects her muscular control and coordination. Her disability has made her an easy target for taunts, cruel jokes and discrimination.

As if her lot in life were not bad enough, she has also experienced more than her fair share of tragedy and difficulty. A high fever rendered one of her four siblings mentally impaired while cancer robbed her of her doting father and her best friend.

However, Miss Oh chooses not to wallow in self pity but to chase and live her dreams. In 2005, she successfully climbed Mount Kinabalu in East Malaysia, which at 4,095m above sea level is one of the highest mountains in South-east Asia.

<Last December, she scaled another peak when the story of her life became a book. Scaling Walls, which she wrote and published with the help of some very good friends, will be officially launched at the Jurong Regional Library tomorrow. Already, more than 3,000 copies from the book’s initial print run of 5,000 have been sold.

The youngest of five children of a poor basket weaver and a washerwoman, she first started thinking about writing a book eight years ago.

‘I wanted people to understand how a disabled person feels and to know that being disabled doesn’t mean unable,’ said Miss Oh, who completed her N levels at St Hilda’s Secondary School.

Although she finds speaking difficult, the warm and bubbly woman is lucid and coherent. She describes herself as blessed because unlike many of her friends with cerebral palsy, she is mobile and not confined to a wheelchair.

Still, life is not easy.

‘It’s difficult to earn a living. Sometimes people will make fun of me and say nasty things. Some also act as though I have an infectious disease or think I’m ‘off’,’ she said, circling her right index finger around her temple to indicate loopiness.

It took her more than a year to organise her thoughts and write the book. ‘Sometimes I would cry and get upset when I remembered certain things,’ she revealed.

Indeed, there has been a lot of sorrow in her life. For many years, she had to juggle her studies with looking after her mentally impaired third sister as well as her late mother. The latter was bedridden and suffered from a chronic skin disease which led to the amputation of her right leg.

There were other tragedies. Her eldest brother was a compulsive gambler who lost her parents’ savings.

Her doting father - who worked two jobs to keep his family together - tried to kill himself after learning he had colon cancer. He died in 1998, eight months after his diagnosis.

Life has also not been smooth sailing on the professional front, says Miss Oh, who last month became a victim of the recession. The renovation company where she had been working as a clerk for two years had to let her go since business has suffered.

A true trooper, she has held down several jobs and even once had her own pushcart business in a shopping mall, selling knick-knacks. She had to give it up when Sars hit in 2003, and badly affected sales.

Convincing employers that she is able is an uphill task.

In her book, she recalls how a receptionist once refused to believe that she had an appointment for an interview and told her the company had no job for disabled people.

A slipped disc put paid to her longest stint, which was seven years as a packer and stacker at a Cold Storage outlet in Chancery Court.

Her friendly and helpful nature not only won her numerous model employee and excellent service awards at the supermarket, but many firm friends too.

One, in particular, had a great impact on her life. Performance coach Lui Ming and her little daughter Aurora taught Miss Oh to believe in herself and were instrumental in getting her to climb Mount Kinabalu and write her book.

‘Ming told me: ‘If you think you’re useless, you’re useless. I can see that you actually have a lot of passion and you’ve got a lot of things you want to do but it’s all hidden by fear.’,’ she writes in Scaling Walls.

Her heart broke when Ms Lui died from colon cancer - she had hidden her condition from Miss Oh - in 2005, aged 44.

Fortunately she has many other friends, including a motley group who rallied around her last year when the fate of her book hung in the balance.

An acquaintance who had initially agreed to print and publish her story pulled out at the last minute because he and Miss Oh could not agree on contractual terms and royalties.

But the group came to the rescue. They pooled together $10,000, formed a publishing company called Siew May And Friends and got Scaling Walls edited, proof-read, designed and published in just eight weeks.

Siblings Sandra and Eric Kong of Design Vizio not only waived their fee but even rejected paying projects to design the book. Mr Johnny Chng from media moguls Pte Ltd agreed to print the book at short notice and also gave a huge discount.

Madam Jennifer Yin, a director at the National Library Board, who climbed Mount Kinabalu with Miss Oh, said: ‘We just wanted to get her book out before Christmas and help her sell it so that she can get money from the royalties.

‘It’s a living for her. And we hope that her book will inspire schools and other organisations to invite her to give talks.’

She has already received fan mail, including a long one from an undergraduate who said her book had inspired him not to think of his painful past but to look forward to the future.

The bashful author, who is donating part of the proceeds from book sales to the Spastic Children’s Association of Singapore, said: ‘The mindset is very important. I want this book to give people, especially parents, hope.

‘Nothing,’ she added, ‘is impossible.’

Article by Wong Kim Hoh, Senior Writer, Straits Times, first publish on Mar 01