Threats to fatherly rest

Lately, a few of my friends who are also fathers have been talking about the need for fathers to learn how to rest (or "relak" as singaporeans would say it). As the Chinese saying goes, rest is essential to walk the long distance - in this case, the long walk of parenting. Indeed, there is a need for rest, because fathers tend to fret about many things about our children - their studies, their behaviors, the friends they hang around with, the language they use etc - over and above the stresses of work we experience daily. Apart from setting aside time to rest - to reflect, pray, read, I think there is a need for us to have a restful disposition. By this, I mean the temperament to truly rest our body and soul. In my interaction with my contemporaries, I have found some threats to this restful disposition. One of it is body-mind disjunction. There was a time in my life when I was at work, I thought about the home; and when I was at home, i worried about work. In other words, the body and mind were at different 'places'. This is a very distressing situation, not to mention that this is highly unproductive both ways - in the end, you don't do any of the roles well. Moreover, it causes us to be restless and ultimately joyless - not able to enjoy the work nor the home. At some point in my life, I resolved to keep a strict administrative separation: when I am at home, I concentrate fully on the affairs of the home and resist the temptation (a very real one) to think about work - because, really, it doesn't help anyway; and when I am at work, to focus on doing my work well and not worry about the happenings at home, no matter how difficult things are there. I confess that it is not easy to make the strict separation, and it requires discipline -for example, not to bring work home to tempt the conflation. But over the years, I have learnt enjoyed the fruits of this disciplined separation - restfulness and enjoyment of each of these roles. Another related threat to restfulness is that of living in the past and the future - and thus missing out on enjoying the present. Some of us have a tendency to think about what might have been if we had taken such and such a course and spend a lot of time regretting about wrong decisions. While it is important that we learn from the past, it is quite different to dwell on the past to the point that we do not savor the present. others like to cast their minds on the future and think about what is coming - whether out of excitement or dread. This can also make us unable to enjoy the here and now. One common wisdom shared among parents who are older is this, "enjoy your children; they grow up very fast." many young parents ignore this advice - only to look back much in regret later to realize the wisdom of the advice. It is true that parents can be so engrossed with preparing our children for the future - like getting them to study hard, inculcating in them good habits etc - that we miss out on enjoying them NOW. When our minds are in a state of constantly shifting between past and future, we miss out on resting in the present - and treasuring the beauties that it brings. One of my favorite resting pose these days is to sit on my papa's chair (as my children will call it) and just observe the children. Often they are not aware that I am observing them. They don't do anything unusual - just going about doing the things they usually do. Doing so brings a smile on my face - a wonder that God has kept them all these years - as I enjoy the "present".

Thoughts on National Day

Today is the 47th National Day - celebrating the independence of Singapore. I took the opportunity to ask my children what they thought about National Day over dinner table a few days ago. Here were their responses. 5 year old: great! 11 year old: ok lor. 16 year old: I think the whole thing, including the celebrations in schools, school participation in NDP performances, the community songs etc, is a form of propaganda. I was amused at the different levels of enthusiasm displayed: roughly inversely proportional to their age. But I was particularly struck by the response of the Number 2 - struck by how she responded intellectually rather than emotionally to my prompt. I tended to think that for school-going children and youths, National Day would move their hearts rather than their minds. But since she started it, being a responsible father, I thought I shouldn't leave the "propaganda talk" dangling there. I commented that propaganda is necessary in every country, but what matters were the messages and the motives of those behind the propaganda. Then came the eldest: I think, dad, it is really hard to be a leader. They must take the criticism of the people while trying to do a good job. It is not easy. He went on to share about how his schoolmates around him tend to complain of things they are not happy about the country and how they envisage life in other countries are much better. Having taken on leadership roles in his school club, he knows that the perspectives from those who lead can be very different - they have to balance so many competing priorities to maintain the 'big picture' that it is almost impossible to please everyone. He imagined this challenge of balance is magnified many times at the level of country leadership. I think this ability to see things from multiple perspectives - including the perspective of our bosses and leaders - an important disposition. It discourages tunnel vision and encourages empathy for others (even those whom we disagree with). It also helps us make decisions that are more inclusive. But I am a little sad that (with the exception of the youngest) the children hardly displayed any spontaneous expression of patriotism or emotionally-charged joy typical of an event that is worth celebrating. But looking at myself, it is not surprising: I am hardly a good role model at that. In this regard, my wife is far better. Her actions speak louder than words: she orchestrated a patriotic rendition of "home" by the 3 younger children as a way to whip up some loyalty-in-action in them. [you can view it in Facebook by going to See Lay Keng's homepage]. Happy Birthday Singapore.

Thoughts on holistic education

Have been thinking about "holistic [or is it wholistic?] education". It is the latest "in thing" in the singapore education scene. I started by assuming that "whole" consists of "parts" and directed my thoughts to what constitute these "parts". We can easily rattle off a few: academic, sports, music, arts, science, ... But as soon as you finish off this list, you can think of something you leave out in other domains of education, such as computer literacy, social adeptness, cross-cultural savvy etc. In other words, the list does not end. it soon became clear that this is not the way to go for a parent who is thinking about which "parts" in the holistic education my children are missing out on. Because it leads to an add-on mentality: trying to squeeze out more and more time in the children's already crowded daily schedule for more and more of these "parts" we think they are deficient in. I switch my thoughts then on what is the "whole" instead. It cannot simply be the aggregation of the "parts", else we fall back to the add-on mentality. It should be something that stands above the "parts" and serve as an organizing principle of life that ties all the "parts" together, rendering them meaningful for a higher purpose. To me, this "whole" is the value system we uphold and should be the consistent theme of our emphasis to our children as parents - both in word and deed. The other "parts", whether they be academic results, performance in sports etc, must be subordinated to this greater principle and goals of education. To me, being a Christian, this "whole" is naturally the Christian life-and-world view. It is about living our lives conscious that we are subject to our creator God and seeing all events of the world as an unfolding drama of His plan. It is this "whole" that gives coherence to all the other "parts" of education. For example, studying science becomes meaningful under this view because it educates us about the beauty/order that God created; learning to be sociable across communities is necessary because interpersonal contact to all classes of God's people is the primary means that He ordains for our mutual experiential growth of knowledge about living in this world. It is very important to me as a parent to hold on firmly to this "whole" because it is easy - in this busy life of competing priorities - to lose sight of it and allow the less important "parts" to usurp its place. It is also a reminder that other subordinate contents of education are not ends in themselves, but opportunities for me to lead my children to constantly revise this organizing theme: God provides meaning to every branch of knowledge and experience; and we can only find full satisfaction in Him.

one to one

I was at my church camp in the past week. I was looking forward to it for many reasons. One of it was the opportunity to spend time with my family - away from the usual routines of school, schoolwork, cooking etc - before school restarts and the stresses the children face limit my leisure time with them. But what turned out was something I hardly expected. My eldest bunked in with a fellow youth and was among other youths throughout the camp so I hardly saw him [but we did have a good chat after the camp at delifrance over coffee break ...]; number two was so busy with CCA and DSA that she had to pull out of camp last minute; number three volunteered for some artwork Programme in the camp and was so committed that, though she shared room with us, we only saw her just before sleeping time and a little after waking time. My wife was also too busy for me - my mother in law came for the camp and she needed to help her around. So only one person in the family had time for me: the youngest 5-year old. Well, it meant that all that my wife usually does with him - feeding him, helping him during sermon time, watching over his safety, bringing him to the pool, showering him etc - was taken over by yours truly. For the first few hours, I could sense that he was not used to second-rate service. [dad doesn't fuss around him so much, doesn't give him many options of food, is stricter with his manners etc]. After a while, he learnt to accept the fact that dad would be 'mum' for much of the camp. As it turned out, it was a blessing in disguise. I realized the last few days was a period that I spent the most time with my youngest child. I watched over every detail of his life and learnt to enjoy his company with me throughout the day. This is something I never get to do on normal days when I had to distribute my time among four (not to forget also time with my wife). It just occurred to me that it is a priceless blessing to watch in close quarter and share in the experience of my growing child in the significant milestones of growth in his life: able to read, able to feed himself, able to swim without floats ... It is a good reminder that I should spend more time to enjoy my children (not just corporately, but also individually) as they are growing up fast. Once past, that earlier stage of their lives cannot be 'relived'. So we shouldn't think of it as responsibility or duty, but rather as a pleasure and blessing.

Lessons from Kilimanjaro

I returned from the Mt Kilimanjaro climb about a week ago. It has taken a while for the realities of the experiences to set in ... I thought to share some lessons here before they become distant memory. It was a very tough climb - both physically and mentally. it took the team more than 8 hrs in the final ascent day to get to the summit - amidst subzero temperature, unrelenting blasting wind, low levels of oxygen, slippery slopes, lack of sleep, and under the cover of darkness. But i suppose all these contribute to the sweetness of success. There is a sense in which, without the toughness, there will be less satisfaction: the strength of the feeling of achievement comes with the toughness of getting there. It is consistent with the adage of "no pain no gain", implying that "gain" comes through "pain". This reminds me that this might be the same for the children too. Often, there is temptation to shield our children from toughness. But worthwhile goals in life often come with a lot of exertion and perseverance through toughness. I think of the common complaints that my children offered when they were younger, "this CCA practices are so tough and boring; when I first joined, I thought it would be fun!" my initial instinct was to release them of their 'torture' by allowing them to quit. Later, I would learn that they should persevere for at least a reasonable length of time more. Usually, when they later tasted of the fruits of hard labour, they found the tough journey worthwhile and necessary. But one ingredient I thought was very important for the reaching of the summit was pole pole (pronounced as po-le po-le in Swahili which means going very slowly). The main problem hindering success is poor acclimatization, especially to the low levels of oxygen. Going pole pole increases the chance of our body getting used to lesser oxygen per inhale. Conversely, those who rush the ascent tends to accentuate the occurrence of acute mountain sickness. How true it is in the development of our children. It cannot be rushed, can it? It is easy for us to lose patience and want them to learn - fast (often faster than they are comfortable with) - and the effects can be worse. We need to observe their steps and follow their pace - one step at a time, slowly, often repeatedly. It may take very much longer, but we should get there nevertheless.

Loosening the grip ...

One of the sad ironies of life is this: the more you want something, the more it slips away from you. Whenever I think of this adage, the common soap-holding analogy comes to mind - hold it firmly and it stays in the hand; grip it tighter and it slips off the hand. This seems true in many things of life I have experienced: the more I want to hold on to a job, the more it seems to slip away; the more I want to salvage a relationship, the more we push one another apart; the more I want my chidren to conform to my ways, the more they seem to go other ways. The problem is not with the desire; the problem is when the desire for something starts to change me - change me into a desperate, unreasonable, narrow, and ... well- someone that is not fun to be with. I think of a typical example of this in the context of wanting our children to learn good habits. I can often want it so much that I keep correcting them for every single fault they manifest. It starts with occasional correction, then constant reminder, then soon, it degenerates into nagging. in the process, in the eyes of the children, I morph from a caring father into a pedantic foggie and into an unreasonable disciplinarian. Often, we are so caught up with our desire to change them that we are unaware of this process of negative change in ourselves. It is no wonder that many parents share that they find it so hard to help their children in their studies - the 'tuition' sessions usually degenerate into emotionally explosive encounters that leave two angry people: not exactly a conducive environment for learning to take place. Thankfully, in most cases, like the soap that slips off our hand, we can gently pick it up again - this time with greater caution against 'squeezing'. Parenting is a long journey. We can reflect on times when our desire for our children were so unrelenting that it got the better of us. With experience, we can learn when the temptation to 'squeeze' is coming and learn to consciously loosen up. Loosening up, by the way, is not to be confused with letting go. The latter is more akin to giving up; the former is about taking stock, self-reflect, and see ourselves from our children's perspective. For me, the soap bars slip off more often than I like. I pray that my children will be patient with me as I learn the art of soap-holding. Today is a special day: I am flying to Kilimanjaro to attempt to climb the mountain there - the tallest in Africa. I guess this lesson is applicable. I can want to scale the summit so much that it changes me into an irrational and over-gung-ho Lao uncle. Pray for me - that I will know when to loosen the grip.

Courage to take a drastic step when needed

I shared in my earlier blog on 29 Oct 2011 on "constantly stimulating our senses" that we are in a generation where we tend to yearn for constant stimulation - smartfone, Facebook, apps, emails, ... I ended the piece by sharing my apprehension about how my eldest son would take to this temptation for over-stimulation as he embarked on the smartfone lifestyle. It has been half a year since he was given so much 'power' in his hands. A few days ago, he gave me a surprise. He passed me the phone, "dad, this phone is yours now. I don't need it anymore." he has since transferred the 'power' to me, and in return took my 'classic' phone. He said that the basic features of calling and SMS in the 'classic' phone is all that he needs now, and he doesn't need all the other features of smartfone to distract him. Although he doesn't say it, I know it was not an easy decision for him. Based on my observation for the last half a year, his life was already so intertwined with the smartfone - checking emails, playing games, faceboo chats etc - it was very much his all-in-one communication and games console which i thought he would not be able to do without any more. I guess he has come to a point where he realize he cannot have it both ways: enjoying this liberty of easy access to these array of leisure/communication tools and yet not be tempted to use them excessively. I guess it requires humility to admit this: that one is too weak to strike this balance of liberty and so has to err on the side of caution. This reminds me of the bible teaching about "if my right eye offend thee, pluck it out ...". Clearly, the bible is not teaching literal disfigurement to avoid temptation. But I do believe these bible passages teach the need to take drastic action to deal with repeated difficulties to cope with certain temptations. I learnt an important lesson from my son: that if I am weighed down by a constant struggle over something not fundamental to true happiness in my life, I perhaps need the courage simply cut it off altogether.