A Blast of Good Vibes from Paul Hawken (repost)

The Unforgettable Commencement Address
by Paul Hawken to the Class of 2009, University of Portland, May 3, 2009

When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a simple short talk that was “direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate, lean, shivering, startling, and graceful.” No pressure there.

Let’s begin with the startling part. Class of 2009: you are going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation… but not one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute that statement. Basically, civilization needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades.

“... the earth needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades.”

This planet came with a set of instructions, but we seem to have misplaced them. Important rules like don’t poison the water, soil, or air, don’t let the earth get overcrowded, and don’t touch the thermostat have been broken. Buckminster Fuller said that spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really good food—but all that is changing.


There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn’t bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: You are Brilliant, and the Earth is Hiring. The earth couldn’t afford to send recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And here’s the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not possible in the time required. Don’t be put off by people who know what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it was impossible only after you are done.


When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand the data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, “So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.” There could be no better description. Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses, companies, refuge camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.

“YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING.”

You join a multitude of caring people. No one knows how many groups and organizations are working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. This is the largest movement the world has ever seen. Rather than control, it seeks connection. Rather than dominance, it strives to disperse concentrations of power. Like Mercy Corps, it works behind the scenes and gets the job done. Large as it is, no one knows the true size of this movement. It provides hope, support, and meaning to billions of people in the world. Its clout resides in idea, not in force. It is made up of teachers, children, peasants, businesspeople, rappers, organic farmers, nuns, artists, government workers, fisherfolk, engineers, students, incorrigible writers, weeping Muslims, concerned mothers, poets, doctors without borders, grieving Christians, street musicians, the President of the United States of America, and as the writer David James Duncan would say, the Creator, the One who loves us all in such a huge way.


There is a rabbinical teaching that says if the world is ending and the Messiah arrives, first plant a tree, and then see if the story is true. Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may befall us; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider. “One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice,” is Mary Oliver’s description of moving away from the profane toward a deep sense of connectedness to the living world.

Millions of people are working on behalf of strangers, even if the evening news is usually about the death of strangers. This kindness of strangers has religious, even mythic origins, and very specific eighteenth-century roots. Abolitionists were the first people to create a national and global movement to defend the rights of those they did not know. Until that time, no group had filed a grievance except on behalf of itself. The founders of this movement were largely unknown — Granville Clark, Thomas Clarkson, Josiah Wedgwood — and their goal was ridiculous on the face of it: at that time three out of four people in the world were enslaved. Enslaving each other was what human beings had done for ages. And the abolitionist movement was greeted with incredulity. Conservative spokesmen ridiculed the abolitionists as liberals, progressives, do-gooders, meddlers, and activists. They were told they would ruin the economy and drive England into poverty. But for the first time in history a group of people organized themselves to help people they would never know, from whom they would never receive direct or indirect benefit. And today tens of millions of people do this every day. It is called the world of non-profits, civil society, schools, social entrepreneurship, non-governmental organizations, and companies who place social and environmental justice at the top of their strategic goals. The scope and scale of this effort is unparalleled in history.

“Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way to be rich.”

The living world is not “out there” somewhere, but in your heart. What do we know about life? In the words of biologist Janine Benyus, life creates the conditions that are conducive to life. I can think of no better motto for a future economy. We have tens of thousands of abandoned homes without people and tens of thousands of abandoned people without homes. We have failed bankers advising failed regulators on how to save failed assets. We are the only species on the planet without full employment. Brilliant. We have an economy that tells us that it is cheaper to destroy earth in real time rather than renew, restore, and sustain it. You can print money to bail out a bank but you can’t print life to bail out a planet. At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product. We can just as easily have an economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it. We can either create assets for the future or take the assets of the future. One is called restoration and the other exploitation. And whenever we exploit the earth we exploit people and cause untold suffering. Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way to be rich.

The first living cell came into being nearly 40 million centuries ago, and its direct descendants are in all of our bloodstreams. Literally you are breathing molecules this very second that were inhaled by Moses, Mother Teresa, and Bono. We are vastly interconnected. Our fates are inseparable. We are here because the dream of every cell is to become two cells. And dreams come true. In each of you are one quadrillion cells, 90 percent of which are not human cells. Your body is a community, and without those other microorganisms you would perish in hours. Each human cell has 400 billion molecules conducting millions of processes between trillions of atoms. The total cellular activity in one human body is staggering: one septillion actions at any one moment, a one with twenty-four zeros after it. In a millisecond, our body has undergone ten times more processes than there are stars in the universe, which is exactly what Charles Darwin foretold when he said science would discover that each living creature was a “little universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute and as numerous as the stars of heaven.”

“We are here because the dream of every cell is to become two cells.”

So I have two questions for you all: First, can you feel your body? Stop for a moment. Feel your body. One septillion activities going on simultaneously, and your body does this so well you are free to ignore it, and wonder instead when this speech will end. You can feel it. It is called life. This is who you are. Second question: who is in charge of your body? Who is managing those molecules? Hopefully not a political party. Life is creating the conditions that are conducive to life inside you, just as in all of nature. Our innate nature is to create the conditions that are conducive to life. What I want you to imagine is that collectively humanity is evincing a deep innate wisdom in coming together to heal the wounds and insults of the past.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course. The world would create new religions overnight. We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead, the stars come out every night and we watch television.


This extraordinary time when we are globally aware of each other and the multiple dangers that threaten civilization has never happened, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand years. Each of us is as complex and beautiful as all the stars in the universe. We have done great things and we have gone way off course in terms of honoring creation. You are graduating to the most amazing, stupefying challenge ever bequested to any generation. The generations before you failed. They didn’t stay up all night. They got distracted and lost sight of the fact that life is a miracle every moment of your existence. Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn’t ask for a better boss. The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic, not the dreamer. Hope only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your life depends on it.


Paul Hawken is a renowned entrepreneur, visionary environmental activist, and author of many books, most recently Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming. He was presented with an honorary doctorate of humane letters by University president Father Bill Beauchamp, C.S.C., in May, when he delivered this superb speech. Our thanks especially to Erica Linson for her help making that moment possible.

[Thanks to blogger Michelle Yoon for alerting me to this blast of good vibes from Paul Hawken, whose name I fondly recall from reading his marvelous account, The Magic of Findhorn, published in 1975. First posted 22 October 2009, reposted 22 October 2018]

Takkan Melayu Hilang Di Dunia (revisited)

Is Umno dead? What the fuck is Umno anyway? According to Wikipedia:

"The United Malays National Organisation, or UMNO, (Malay: Pertubuhan Kebangsaan Melayu Bersatu), is a right-wing party and Malaysia's largest political party; a founding member of the Barisan Nasional coalition, which has ruled the country uninterruptedly since its independence. It is known for being a major proponent of Malay Supremacy or Ketuanan Melayu and mild Islamic fundamentalism, which holds that the Malays and other Muslims are the 'definitive' people of Malaysia and, thus, deserve special privileges as their birthright."*

So the entire foundation of Umno rests upon the ethnocentric notion of Malay Supremacy. Which begs the question: how do you define "Malay"? At this crucial juncture in Malaysia's political evolution, it's important to examine these fundamental issues and see what can be gleaned. Friends have been forwarding an anonymous essay on this very topic. Not a particularly well-written piece, but it does contain some fascinating facts. I shall present it here, after putting in some of my own editorial touches:

How many of you have read the book entitled Contesting Malayness edited by a professor of the National University of Singapore? It reflects the anthropological view that there is no such race as the "Malays" to begin with.

Following the original migration of the Yunnan (southwestern) Chinese around 6,000 years ago, they moved to Taiwan and are today known as the Alisan; some migrated to the Philippines and became known as the Aeta; others moved to Borneo around 4,500 years ago and are now called the Dayak. The migrants also split off to Sulawesi, Jawa, and Sumatra. The final migration was to the Malayan Peninsular about 3,000 years ago. A sub-group from Borneo also moved to Champa in Cambodia around 4,500 years ago.

Interestingly, the Champa deviant group moved back to present day Kelantan. There are also traces of the Dong Song and Hoabinhian migration from Vietnam and Cambodia. To further confuse the issue, there was also a Southern Thai migration, from what we know as Pattani today (see Early Kingdoms of the Indonesian Archipelago and the Malay Peninsula).

Of course, we also have the Minangkabau who claim descent from Alexander the Great and a West Indian Princess (Sejarah Melayu pp 1-3)

So is there really a race called the "Malays"? Most anthropologists DO NOT SEEM TO THINK SO.

Neither do the "Malays" who live on the West Coast of Johore. They would rather be called Javanese. What about the west coast Kedah inhabitants who prefer to be known as Acehnese? Or the Ibans who simply want to be known as Ibans? Try calling a Kelabit a "Malay" and see what reaction you get... you'll be glad their head-hunting days are over.

The concept of "Malay" therefore refers to a collection of peoples who speak a similar language. Even so, "a similar language" does not mean the words are similar. Linguists call this the "Lego-type" language, where words are added on to the root word to make different meanings and to impart tenses and such. The Indonesians disagree with this classification. They refuse to be called Malay no matter how you may define the term.

According to this classification, the concept of "Malay" must include the Filipinos, Papua New Guineans, Australian Aborigines, as well as Polynesian Aborigines. These peoples are part of the Australo-Melanesian migration from Africa dating 60,000 years back.

The definition of "Malay" should also apply to the Taiwanese singer, Ah Mei, whose Alisan tribe can be regarded as the ancestors of the "Malays." The Southern Chinese (of Funan Province) ought to classified as "Malay" too, since they are of the same stock that migrated south 6,000 years ago.

Are the Bugis "Malays"? Interestingly, the Bugis, who predominantly live on Sulawesi, do not even consider themselves Indonesians. Neither do they fall into the same group as the migrating Southern Chinese of 6,000 years ago - nor the Australo-Melanesian group from Africa. The Bugis are, in fact, a cross between the Chinese and the Arabs. They are descended from a renegade Ming Dynasty official who turned to piracy. His career as a buccaneer was so successful that Admiral Cheng Ho was despatched to hunt him down and put an end to his mischief. In effect, the Bugis were career pirates operating among the Johore-Riau Islands. The nephew of Daeng Kemboja was appointed the first Sultan of Selangor. That makes the entire Selangor Sultanate part Arab, part Chinese. Talk to the Bugis Museum curator near Kukup in Johore. (Kukup is located at the south-westernmost tip of Johore, near Pontian Kecil).

Let's not delve too deeply into the legend of the five warriors - Hang Tuah, Hang Jebat, Hang Kasturi, Hang Lekiu, and Hang Lekir - who shared the same family name as Hang Li Poh. And who was she? A Ming princess who was sent to marry the Sultan of Malacca. The elder son of the vanquished Malacca Sultan was killed in Johor, and the other son eventually became the Sultan of Perak. Do we detect any Chinese genes in Raja Azlan? Could he be the descendant of Princess Hang Li Poh?

Next question: if the Malacca Babas are part-Malay, why have they been marginalized by not being classified bumiputera? Which part of their "Malayness" is not legitimate? Whatever the answer, why are the Portuguese of Malacca accepted as bumiputera? Didn't their forefathers arrive a hundred years AFTER the arrival of the first Babas? Parameswara founded Malacca in 1411. The Portuguese came in 1511, and the Dutch in 1641. Oddly enough, the Babas were in fact once classified as bumiputera, but they were "declassified" in the 1960's. WHY?

The Sultan of Kelantan had genetic roots in the Pattani Kingdom, making him of Thai origin. And has anyone come across a coffee-table book commissioned by the Sultan of Perlis wherein he claims to be a direct descendant of Prophet Muhammad? Professor Emeritus Khoo Kay Kim is supposedly the author of the book. I'd pay good money to get my hands on a copy!

Negrito women and their babies (from the Philippines)

How many of you have met an Orang Asli? The further north you go, the more African they look. Why are they called Negritos? It's a Spanish word which translates as "little Negroes." The farther south you go, the more "Indonesian" they look. And the ones who live on Cameron Highlands look like a 50-50 blend. Take the Batek of Taman Negara, who look a lot like Eddie Murphy clones. Or the Negritos who live below the Thai border near Temenggor Lake. The Mah Meri of Carey Island look exactly like the Jakuns of Endau Rompin. Half African, half Indonesian.

There was once a Hindu-Malay Empire in Kedah. That's right. The Malays were Hindu before they became Muslim. It went by the name Langkasuka. Today it is known as Lembah Bujang. This Hindu-Malay Empire flourished about 2,000 years ago, pre-dating Borobodur and Angkor Wat by about 500 years. Lembah Bujang was a mighty trading empire, and it was built by Indian craftsmen and stonemasons. Obviously, Langkasuka was a vassal of India. This should make the Indians bumiputeras too since they were here 2,000 years ago. Why have they been dismissed as pendatang (immigrants) and marginalized?

In effect the "Malay" race is essentially an amalgamation of Asian tribes. So it's totally incorrect to call this country "Tanah Melayu." Instead we should call it "Tanah Truly Asia."

For once the Tourism Ministry got it right.

Now if my memory serves me correctly, Umno actually died 27 years ago on 4 February 1988 when Justice Harun Hashim declared the party illegal, since it had breached the rules governing political parties by failing to register at least 30 branches. According to Wikipedia:

"The Tunku and former UMNO President Hussein Onn set up a new party called UMNO Malaysia, which claimed to be the successor to the old UMNO. UMNO Malaysia was supported mainly by members of the Team B faction from UMNO, but Mahathir was also invited to join the party leadership. However, the party collapsed after the Registrar of Societies refused to register it as a society (without providing an explanation)."

Two weeks later, on 18 February 1988, Mahathir formed a surrogate party called Umno Baru. Which means the original Umno established by Dato' Onn Jaafar on May 11 1946 was no longer in existence. Instead, the party became, to all intents and purposes, an extension of and a vehicle for Mahathir's own egocentricity and megalomania. And the biggest joke is, Mahathir himself once declared his own racial origins as "Indian Muslim." Ketuanan Mamak. How does THAT sound?

[First posted 22 March 2008, reposted 18 August 2015 & 22 October 2022]

________

*This is a verbatim quote from the Wikipedia entry on UMNO in March 2008. Somebody has since updated the entry, omitting the description "right-wing" and toning down the ethnocentric emphasis.

Winning Orang Asli Votes (updated)

Just before the by-election of April 2010 I received an email from the political secretary of one of the candidates asking me for suggestions on how to effectively campaign among the Orang Asli of Ulu Selangor. I was happy to provide an overview of how things stand with my indigenous kinfolk from the perspective of someone free of tribal imprints. The following is extracted from my email response...

Siama anak Penengah (died 2012)

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to delineate the key issues confronting the Orang Asli in general - and the Temuan community of Ulu Selangor in particular.

1. As with all indigenous peoples the most crucial issue is permanency of tenure on their ancestral lands. Without a sense of belonging to their tanah pesaka (customary lands), Orang Asli tend to become dispirited (and seek to numb themselves with spirits out of a bottle). An important case in point is Kampung Pertak, situated within a few kilometers of Gunung Raja, their sacred mountain which they call Pusat Negeri. In February 1965 the Jabatan Hal Ehwal Orang Asli and the Selangor state government approved for gazetting as a permanent Orang Asli Reserve close to 300 hectares of forest reserve, stretching from Gunung Raja to Sungai Luit which flows beside the present Kampung Pertak.

However, in 2004 the Land Office issued 99-year leases on an individual basis to the residents of Kg Pertak, effectively denying their claim to their tanah pesaka, and reducing their land holdings to a tiny fraction of what was promised them 45 years ago. [Dr Colin Nicholas of the Center for Orang Asli Concerns can supply you with the documentation for this.] Other Temuan settlements in Ulu Selangor are faced with different problems: those in Kg Tun Abdul Razak and Gerachi Jaya, for example, have been living in fear of being displaced by developers working in cahoots with the JHEOA and the Land Office. Kg Orang Asli Kolam Air, KKB, still has no electricity supply even though it is located less than half a kilometer from the nearest power line.

Amran @ Kuku

2. The feudalistic and patronizing attitude of the Jabatan Hal Ehwal Orang Asli (JHEOA) has effectively infantilized the Orang Asli, keeping them timid, intimidated and unsure of their rights. In Kg Pertak, for instance, the Batin doesn't have the authority to convene a majlis (village council) - only the JHEOA can call a meeting in the village. After more than half a century the JHEOA apparently has only three agendas: (i) forcing the Orang Asli to abandon their traditional ways by systematically destroying their forest habitat; (ii) cajoling them and offering them material incentives to embrace Islam; (iii) ensuring that the Orang Asli remain powerless and lacking in self-confidence so that the JHEOA can justify its continued existence.

What the Orang Asli urgently need are representatives in parliament and non-governmental agencies who can articulate their desires, bypassing the heavy-handed, short-sighted and self-serving JHEOA. Sincere and independent NGOs like COAC are underfunded and understaffed - but with regular funding and more staff they can do a far more effective job of bridging the gulf between the Orang Asli and the bureaucracy.

Koi

3. On several occasions I have helped Orang Asli widows, accident cases and the elderly to apply for financial support from the Welfare Department (Pejabat Kebajikan). In every instance I have been disgusted by the snail's pace at which the Welfare Dept staff operate. Sometimes it takes more than six months from the date of application for financial aid to be granted. Such a lackadaisical attitude cannot be tolerated as it can mean the difference between life and death for some Orang Asli.

What is urgently required is a special fund set up for the Orang Asli at the district level which can be used to provide immediate financial aid to those who cannot fend for themselves owing to unforeseen circumstances, e.g., accidents, ill health, old age, loss of family breadwinner. Red tape needs to be minimalized so the Orang Asli are not daunted by the process of requesting aid. This fund can also be utilized to help enterprising Orang Asli set up food stalls or build riverside chalets, so they can learn how to do business on a modest scale and remain their own bosses.

4. Before the construction of the Selangor Dam, a few Temuan from Kg Gerachi and Kg Pertak were earning good money working as river guides with whitewater rafting companies. Regular contact with tourists has made these Temuan conversant to a degree in English and their natural aptitude for the sport has given them a big boost in self-esteem. Unfortunately, the dam has severely impacted on the water level of the river, making whitewater rafting almost impossible. The Temuan river guides have repeatedly sought the cooperation of Splash Sdn Bhd (the dam operator) to release water every time they have rafting clients - but I'm told that Splash has simply ignored their petition. This is one instance where the JHEOA ought to take up their cause and negotiate with Splash, but the Orang Asli have long learnt not to bother asking for help from the JHEOA (whose officers tend to be malas and tidak peduli, unless there's money to be made, as in logging commissions).

Sibin Aus (died 2011)

5. After living among the Temuan since 1992, it has become obvious to me that the Orang Asli would swiftly regain their self-esteem if given the opportunity to excel in what they naturally do with ease, viz., "right-brained" activities like sports and the arts. I doubt the existing school curricula can encourage and foster such talents. What might be effective are informal programs to stimulate and inspire the youngsters on several fronts: (i) helping them access the Internet, thereby improving their language skills and exposing them to a far wider world of possibilities; (ii) providing them access to arts workshops (music, dance, acting, woodcarving, painting, and so on); and (iii) granting scholarships and sponsorships to Orang Asli kids who show promise in athletics and cultural activities.

A viable long-term project would be to fund individuals and NGOs who can set up regular learn-while-you-play programs in various villages to broaden the outlook and increase the knowledge pool among the youth (who tend to get into mischief when they are bored).

Apin

Recently I met a few Temuan in their mid-20s from Bukit Lanjan and other settlements around Selangor who impressed me with their excellent grasp of English and their facility with digital tech (they have their own websites and blogs and have been shooting and editing their own documentaries). At the same time these new generation Temuan displayed great pride in their own mythic traditions and have published books and comics in their own Temuan language.*

These are the way-showers and bridge-builders between the past and the future who will lead their people to a new era of self-respect and self-determination, free from the suffocating clutches of the JHEOA.

Antares
~^@^~

Note: Jabatan Hal Ehwal Orang Asli (JHEOA) was renamed Jabatan Kemajuan Orang Asli (JAKOA) in November 2010 - but apart from the change of logo, very little else has (except the disturbing fact that JAKOA appears to be working closely with Jakim to embed Muslim missionaries in every Orang Asli community).

*One of these Temuan youth, Shaq Koyok, has since made a dent in the art world and become a de facto cultural ambassador of the Orang Asli, receiving cultural awards and invitations to visit galleries and meet with other indigenous peoples around the world.

[First posted 29 January 2015, reposted 9 December 2019]

Happy 108th, Aunt M.Y. ~ Your stories live on in cyberspace!

Aunt M.Y with my mother Moon Loy in Johore Bahru, 1982.

Sometimes it takes a while to register that somebody you dearly love is no longer around - at least not physically.

My Aunt M.Y. - better known to her friends and fellow Wesleyans as Grace Lee - was born Dai Moong Yang on 18 October 1916. She spent her final years at the Lentor Residence nursing home in Singapore, gradually succumbing to senescence, and died sometime in February 2009 a few months after her 92nd birthday.

Those are but the barest facts of her life. What does it mean when you see the figures "1916 ~ 2009" engraved on a commemorative plaque in some airconditioned columbarium? Nothing much, really. Every human existence is essentially a multi-layered jigsaw of memory fragments stored in a multitude of contemporary minds. It takes a storyteller to assemble and reconstitute each life that has come and gone. To me that is what resurrection means. Each of us is a story unfolding in time and space and when we no longer inhabit our physical forms, all that remains are anecdotes.

I have only a tiny fragment of M.Y.'s story. I'm sure there are a couple of faded sepia photos of Aunt M.Y. tucked away somewhere in the appalling clutter of my study, salvaged from silverfish-eaten photo albums that survived a series of floods and stuffed in a manila envelope or two, but I have yet to locate them.

Fortunately, M.Y. was a compulsive storyteller and took pains to record a bunch of anecdotes typewritten on double-spaced foolscap sheets. She handed me a collection of her stories sometime in 1991 and asked if I could edit them for publication. I spent weeks hunched over a manual typewriter retyping her manuscripts, tweaking her syntax here and there for ease of reading - and, occasionally, adding a few literary effects to make her enchanting stories more vivid. I suggested she commission my then 19-year-old daughter Belle to come up with a few cartoons to spice up her stories.

She liked the cosmetic changes I had included and subsequently passed the material to her granddaughter, also named Grace, who owned a word processor and knew about preparing text for publication. Finally, in 1995, a thousand copies of a slim, self-published volume titled In Those Days... were printed and distributed to her friends, colleagues and relatives.

On one of my last visits to Aunt M.Y. in her Singapore nursing home, I was pleased to hear that a new edition of In Those Days... was in the works. M.Y. had just celebrated her 90th birthday and I thought it would be wonderful for a spruced-up version of her one and only book to appear as a celebration of her seemingly ordinary - yet in many ways extraordinary - life. I offered to proofread and help with the book design, as I had plenty of time on my hands and had since acquired some facility with computers.

However, as with so many good intentions, nothing transpired in the end. With my aunt's passing in early 2009, only a tiny handful knew of her humble collection of short stories. Family members are funny that way. I remember asking my own mother, M.Y.'s middle sister, whether she had finished reading In Those Days... and what she thought of it. "Oh, you know your Aunt M.Y. She loves telling tall stories!" That was all I could get out of mum.

Years later I realized how fortunate I was to have at least one storyteller in the family. Nobody else seemed interested in recording the everyday occurrences of their lives or of their ancestors - though my mother religiously kept a diary for many years. But after she died in July 1995 and I finally had access to her diaries (she had agreed to bequeath them to me after I pestered her), what I found in them read like a series of Facebook status updates: "Bad cold since Monday. Took some Aspirins but that didn't help much." Mundane stuff like that, apart from a few more intense entries whenever there was a bit of domestic drama. Truth be told, I still haven't read all my dear mother's diaries (there were at least half-a-dozen leather-bound volumes). She wasn't a natural-born storyteller like her big sister M.Y., who had a gift for narrating juicy sagas with genteel discretion.

When my affable and jocular Uncle Kong Beng (affectionately known as K.B.) died unexpectedly of a heart attack, leaving his beloved M.Y. an attractive widow in her late 40s or early 50s, a few tongues began to wag, just because she began spending a lot of time in the company of Uncle Ho - who had been best man at their wedding. In 1970 I got a job in an ad agency and moved in with Aunt M.Y. She kindly let me sleep in a curtained-off portion of her kitchen and often cooked wholesome meals for me.

Uncle Ho would drop by almost every day and that's how I got to know and like the man. He had worked and lived in Singapore for years and had raised a family there. Now he was estranged from his wife and found M.Y.'s company far more appealing. In turn M.Y. found Ho mentally stimulating because he was a well-read man who enjoyed discussing politics, philosophy and literature with her. I thought they were a perfect match for each other and was delighted when Aunt M.Y. bought a house in Bangsar and invited Ho to move in with her.

I often visited M.Y. in her cozy Bangsar home. She invariably insisted that I have something to eat and would busy herself in the tiny kitchen preparing a good old-fashioned meal while I tinkled on her antique upright or discussed current affairs with Uncle Ho. He struck me as essentially a pragmatist, torn between socialist ideals and a conviction borne from bitter experience that a great divide would forever exist between theory and practice because of the damnable recalcitrance of "human nature."

On one of these visits I learned from M.Y. that not everyone "approved" of her cohabiting with Ho, who was still legally married to his Singaporean wife. I didn't wish to poke my nose into other people's affairs, so I never asked Ho why he didn't obtain a formal divorce - and in any case it has never once occurred to me that couples who opt to share space must first apply for a licence from any government or seek approval from some priest.

Ever since I found out about these artificial constraints imposed on human behavior I have felt nothing but contempt for those who actually believe God personally laid down those rigid rules and regulations. As a kid I had come to my own conclusion that if a God truly existed, he or she or it would most certainly be completely free of the mental shackles of society's Caucasian chalk circle taboos.

Aunt M.Y. had been a dedicated Methodist all her life. Indeed, she told me her grandfather had been among the pioneer Foochows who migrated to Sarawak at the turn of the 20th century and established the first Methodist church in Sibu. Yet she never once presented herself as a prude, and always showed a profound empathy for human frailty. To me, if one insisted on professing Christianity, the ultimate exemplar would be my Aunt M.Y., who was well-known as Mrs Grace Lee to all Wesleyans in Kuala Lumpur because of her vigorous efforts in community service. Indeed, she was perfectly comfortable sharing her modest home and her widowed life with her old buddy Ho, a lifelong atheist and pragmatist.

My Aunt M.Y. and I were, in many ways, kindred spirits, despite our generational differences. She told me about her adventures in the astral realms, revealing how she often found herself floating out of her body and moving around with utmost freedom and facility. For months after her husband K.B. died, M.Y. would encounter him in the astral. He apparently missed her greatly and she him. The last time she visited her departed husband in the astral zone, she saw him happily remarried. He was now a simple farmer, working his fields in an idyllic valley, where life flowed in harmony with natural rhythms. She was finally able to put closure to their previous life together.

Quite often she was asked to clear stagnant ectoplasm and poltergeists from haunted houses. She described how she would get goose pimples upon entering certain areas and that would indicate the presence of discarnate entities or lost souls. Often she would be accompanied by a clairvoyant friend or two and they would simply acknowledge the cobwebs of psychic distress and pray for the release of the unhappy souls. The simple fact that she entrusted the ritual cleansing to Jesus and the Archangels made her unquestionably a disciple of the Christ.

Before she moved to Bangsar, M.Y. underwent surgery for a thyroid disorder. She reported to me, a wee bit regretfully, that she no longer astral projected after her thyroidectomy. Instead, she caught the physical travel bug and relished her speaking tours of the United States, representing Southeast Asian women at Methodist World Conferences. Back home, she devoted a great deal of time to serving in various church committees and providing free counseling to all and sundry.

Many a time when I visited M.Y., she would be dispensing sage advice and spiritual succor to distraught young women or friends undergoing domestic crises. She also began to upgrade her mastery of Mandarin and try her hand at writing articles and short stories.

In Those Days... has yet to be resurrected in print - and I can understand why, because publishing books involves not only money but an enormous expenditure of time and effort. Besides, very few publishers are prepared to invest in unknown quantities like a humble collection of personal stories written by a rank amateur, especially if there is absolutely no sensational content to be found - just a frank and sympathetic documentation of memorable episodes in a fairly ordinary human life.

After giving the matter considerable thought, I was convinced that if my Aunt M.Y. had been introduced to digital technology while her faculties were still acute, she would inevitably have become an ardent blogger or at least a ubiquitous commentator on a variety of social-political forums. Indeed, I would go so far as to visualize M.Y. getting her first whiff of tear gas at the Bersih 2.0 rally for clean and fair elections on 9 July 2011.

So I created a blog on her behalf, called... In Those Days... and when better to go public with it than on what would have been her 95th solar orbit? I have had to retype every single page, beginning from the end, so that when I finally complete this labor of love, the blog will be an online version of her first and only book. I've only managed five chapters to date, but will shoot for at least one more after I upload this post.

To any member of the family who may be displeased with the liberty I have taken by making M.Y.'s stories accessible online, I humbly apologize for disagreeing with the notion that it's best to "keep it in the family." I sincerely feel that my Aunt M.Y.'s stories have a charm all their own and provide an invaluable record of what life was like if one happened to be the granddaughter of a Chinese immigrant in British Malaya, born just after the First World War. I feel a deep enough spiritual connection with my Aunt M.Y. to assert that nothing would please her more than for her modest contribution to literature to be preserved and shared with the world at large - the world she has left and which she so unconditionally loved.

Last photo taken with my Aunt M.Y. in Singapore @  February 2008

The fact that my Aunt M.Y.'s stories will now be floating around in cyberspace may indeed catalyze a hard-copy reprint of her limited first edition - and I think that would be the most appropriate way to celebrate her 108th birthday!

CLICK TO READ!

[First posted 18 October 2013, reposted 18 October 2017]

INTERVIEW WITH MYSELF (FROM MARCH 1996)

Malaysian author/cartoonist/musician/poet KIT LEEE says he is a "walk-in." To be more precise, his multi-dimensional self - ANTARES NUMl*ON - recalls arriving on planet Earth on December 25th, 1968, as "an illegal immigrant" by "walking into and waking up" in the 18-year-old physical body operated by an Earth native born as "Lee Kit Fong" (pictured left). 

X-Fileophiles will have little difficulty accepting this as a fairly common occurrence. Apparently a large number of humans are waking up to the fact that they are actually "star-borne entities" on a special mission to reconnect Spaceship Earth with the rest of the cosmic community. But how will the Proton-driving, condominium-dwelling, cari makan-ing Malaysian rakyat respond to this news? To help shed some light on the matter, JOURNAL ONE invited Kit Leee to conduct an in-depth interview with his own "higher dimensional aspect" - Antares. Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen!

 

K: How come I don't remember inviting you into my body?

A: Do you remember how many times you've lived on this planet? You could call it protective amnesia - it's essentially a multi-tracking phenomenon - you don't want cross-talk from your other dimensional aspects leaking through and distracting you from the tasks at hand. However, you can be sure of one thing: you agreed to this sharing of neural circuitry. Without your full consent it would have been-a transgression. There are cases where weak-willed personalities have been hijacked, taken over, possessed by some criminal entity. That isn't halal, as they say in this country.

K: Are you a figment of my own overactive imagination?

A: Well, isn't everything? No, I don't mean to be facetious. At the end of the day, so to speak, the Imagination is what creates all realities. Entire universes spring from the Cosmic Imagination. Hindus say it's only Vishnu dreaming. 

K: Does that mean my imagination is no different than Vishnu's – or the Prime Creator's?

A: It's a question of scale. In fractal geometry, the proportions are all-important, not the size. If you know the sum of two angles, you can figure out the third - no matter how huge your triangle. It could be an imaginary triangle connecting three star systems – the mathematics is universal. But I suggest we progress from triangles to tetrahedra: they're much more relevant to our experience of polydimensional reality. Think holograms. It’s a holographic universe.

K: Of course, it could also mean I'm schizophrenic...

A: Incidentally, that's exactly how early humans experienced contact with their gods - through auditory hallucinations generated by the right halves of their bicameral brains. The early gods were really a more evolved species with sufficient force of will to project images and, later, commands directly into the psyches of more primitive species. When these gods began interbreeding with the native primates, their progeny became the first monarchs, agents of the gods, and were regarded as the only real individuals - since the rest of the tribe was still a nebulous group-mind. The word "real" originally meant "royal." So much for reality. As for the syndrome labeled "schizophrenia" by psychiatrists, it all arises from a well-meaning but misguided attempt to define ourselves in terms of a stable, static, predictable - and controllable - social persona. The "normal' self is the product of wishful thinking, derived from genetic imprinting and sociocultural programming. Your name, address, occupation, passport and phone number... all that is just a convenient coordinate system to locate an individual within a particular social context. If you view Prime Creator or God or All That ls as the Supreme Personality, you're confronted with the archetypal case of schizophrenia - simply because that's how the One fragments into the Many.

K: Heavy stuff. Let's stick with more magazine-style questions, if you don't mind.

A: Why should I mind? I have no chip on my shoulder. You're the chap with the shoulders - and the chips.

K: Perhaps I'll quit trying to figure out what's happening on this planet and start a shouIders'n'chips franchise instead.

A: Provide your own canned laughter.

K: Right, er... Antares... where do you originate? Can I think of you as an extraterrestrial entity?

A: Everything comes from the One. l appreciate that you may find such a statement annoyingly vague. But it's the simplest and most precise response. l know you'd prefer some juicy so-called facts.

K: How about some nice, juicy so-called facts?

A: Sure. The name "Antares" connects you with stellar frequencies. Antares is also the name of a binary stargate. In Greek it means "counterforce to Mars (Ares), the divider"; and in Sanskrit it mean "interlink" (as in “antara” or 'between"). My most recent education was acquired in the Pleiadian star cluster - of which, by the way, our solar system is part - but I have intimate links with many other stellar concentrations of Consciousness. Being multidimensional means one can tune into several "lives" in several different frequency zones without shorting any circuits, so to speak. Venus is one of my favorite vacation spots in this system, and Satum is almost a second home. Earthbound science cannot as yet access the frequencies where sentient life is to be contacted on these planets. Remember, the present range of human sensory perceptions is extremely limited; and even the most advanced technical devices can only extend that range a little. Some of you are swiftly mutating, however, and are already able to pick up astral, angelic and higher mental octaves. You call such individuals psychics, clairvoyants, seers, channels. Humanity as a whole will experience a dramatic paradigm shift when enough of you let go of your rigid mindsets: that's the only barrier keeping you caught up in a tunnel reality that's seemingly futile, meaningless, and purposeless. In truth no external authority can keep you under post-hypnotic control forever. For most of us, the cage doors of consciousness are already unlocked. However, many have been "jailbirds" for so long, they're afraid to fly beyond the bars of visible reality.

K: Obviously, you can't stay away from the heavy prattle.

A: Heavy? This is light stuff. The annual report of Perwaja Steel - now that's what I would call "heavy."

K: How would you know about the corporate world?

A: Only as much as you know, plus I have access to the larger context in which these limited-objective games are being played. Glad to say, it's just a phase humanity has had to pass through. It's almost over, folks.

K: Would it be correct to regard you as my personal access to the Cosmic Internet?

A: Good analogy. Most of the Universe is already on-line, except for Earth - which is only now beginning to realize the vast possibilities of initiation into the interplanetary community. The Intergalactic Confederation? Not just yet... but let's say it's a matter of Time.

K: I'm editing out your chuckle.

A: That's fine.

K: Do you have the power to operate independently? l mean, could you coax me into doing something I would not do as the personality called "Kit Leee"?

A: We are NOT separate entities. Since you have only recently become fully conscious of your higher dimensional aspects, you're still in the habit of thinking in terms of "above and below," "higher and lower" - which is only true in a very limited sense. The expanded truth is: as your capacity for love increases, so does your empathy level - and that's the interface where we meet and fuse. Soon there shall be no visible splice between our programs: the personal and the transpersonal frequencies will be completely integrated.

K: Does that mean the demise of "Kit Leee"?

A: I have to point out that "Kit Leee" never actually existed as anything other than a form of station identification. Your essential being operates beyond names. It is, to add to the mystery, ineffable.

K: Ineffable? In-eff-able. You mean unfuckable.

A: I am unshockable. Words, words, words. The more the merrier in your case - since this magazine pays by the word. So go ahead and crack your feeble jokes. You've just earned RM1.5O, congratulations.

K: To change the subject abruptly, why are there still moments when I think the hardheaded pragmatists could be right after all? I mean, when l read the papers or talk with people, conditions on this planet appear to be worsening, not improving.

A: Appear - that's the key word. Haven't you heard? Appearances are deceptive. There's never been a finer epoch in Earth's history – by which I'm referring to the last 5,000 odd spins around the Sun. You realize, of course, that the Earth is ready to consciously accept the privilege and the responsibility of birthing the Divine Child – a brand new humanity endowed with the intellectual integrity of a Buddha, the physical agility of a Nadarajah, the compassion of a Christ - in perfect harmony with the Will of Allah (and therefore muslim in the essential meaning of the term, to be at one with the One).

K: Sounds too good to be true, what you say. l meet a lot of people who see life as a scary tightrope walk across an endless ocean of profound shit.

A: A very amusing and graphic metaphor. Gary Larson could go to town on that one. The fact that we find it funny means that it strikes a chord, cuts close to the bone - and, no doubt, such a perception of reality has been the "norm" for a very, very long time. Don't forget the Hindus call such a period of hellish darkness the Kali yuga. The good news is that a large percentage of humans have successfully broken through to higher consciousness, thereby rendering the experience of pain, horror, tragedy, and helplessness merely optional.

K: You mean we're free to change channels, so to speak?

A: Something like that. What has been happening with you, for instance, can be described as such a breakthrough. Your anxiety level has generally dropped to an unprecedented level; and you're no longer feeling chronic hostility towards emblems of external authority. Isn't that so?

K: You're right. But l continue to feel irked by events occurring on the mundane level. You know, Big Business, Big Government, Big Con Games like Wawasan 2020 or Agenda 2030. It's hard to keep quiet and watch ecocidal and genocidal projects being implemented. Look, how can we put an end to horrible scenarios like the Bakun Dam and blaming Climate Change on carbon dioxide?

A: It's all part of your final exam as a species. Humans are still wrapped up in economic and political power struggles - because the direct experience of Spirit has been effectively limited to a handful of holy rollers, hermits, aborigines, shamans, yogis, madmen, and so on. The last 500 years of scientific materialism and industrial development were a violent reaction against the preceding ages of superstition and tyrannical control by various priesthoods. Humans are now ready to find the right balance between faith and knowledge. Looking at it from a cosmic perspective, it's not really a question of who's right and who's wrong - or whether dams or windmills are necessary for your continued development. The key issue is: what are you striving to achieve, how are you using your energy? Are you perpetuating a social and economic system where only a tiny minority attains a lifestyle of unmitigated luxury, while the vast majority continue to struggle blindly, ignorantly, hopelessly, just to survive? If that is the case, then you have a moral obligation to swiftly outgrow the fearful, egocentric mindset that fosters such destructive and iniquitous activities. Just say "Boo!" and the specter of powerlessness will fade away. In other words, empower yourself, locate the spiritual center within, and kowtow to no false gods.

K: Easier said than done.

A: Even easier left unsaid.

K: You realize that this conversation could go on interminably.

A: It does. Isn't it wonderful to have a friend?

K: Damn right. Especially one who doesn't cadge smokes off me.

A: How little you know... oh well, a habit l picked up on Vulcan. Right, time for a ciggie break!

 

19 March 1996 (First posted 29 September 2023)

The Golden Spiral & Fibonacci Sequence explained in 4 minutes! (repost)

Published on 3 March 2013

Spoken Word: Alan Watts
Music: Blockhead
Clips & Audio:
Spirit Science - Jordan David
Inner Outer Worlds - David Schmidt

[Brought to my attention by Olivia de Haulleville & Walter Smith. First posted 21 September 2013. Reposted 8 October 2018]

The Entheogenic Art of Alex Grey (revisited)

entheogen |enˈthēəˌjen; -jən|
noun - a chemical substance, typically of plant origin, that is ingested to produce a nonordinary state of consciousness for religious or spiritual purposes.

entheogenic |enˌthēəˈjenik| adjective - ORIGIN 1970s: from Greek, literally ‘becoming divine within’; coined by an informal committee studying the inebriants of shamans.

Alex Grey was born in Columbus, Ohio on November 29, 1953 (Sagittarius), the middle child of a gentle middle-class couple. His father was a graphic designer and encouraged his son's drawing ability. Young Alex would collect insects and dead animals from the suburban neighborhood and bury them in the back yard. The themes of death and transcendence weave throughout his artworks, from the earliest drawings to later performances, paintings and sculpture. He went to the Columbus College of Art and Design for two years (1971-73), then dropped out and painted billboards in Ohio for a year (73-74). Grey then attended the Boston Museum School for one year, to study with the conceptual artist, Jay Jaroslav.


At the Boston Museum School he met his wife, the artist, Allyson Rymland Grey. During this period he had a series of entheogenically induced mystical experiences that transformed his agnostic existentialism to a radical transcendentalism. The Grey couple would trip together on LSD. Alex then spent five years at Harvard Medical School working in the Anatomy department studying the body and preparing cadavers for dissection.


He also worked at Harvard's department of Mind/Body Medicine with Dr. Herbert Benson and Dr. Joan Borysenko conducting scientific experiments to investigate subtle healing energies. Alex's anatomical training prepared him for painting the Sacred Mirrors (explained below) and for doing medical illustration. When doctors saw his Sacred Mirrors, they asked him to do illustration work.

Grey was an instructor in Artistic Anatomy and Figure Sculpture for ten years at New York University, and now teaches courses in Visionary Art with Allyson at The Open Center in New York City, Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado, the California Institute of Integral Studies and Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York.

In 1972 Grey began a series of art actions that bear resemblance to rites of passage, in that they present stages of a developing psyche. The approximately fifty performance rites, conducted over the last thirty years move through transformations from an egocentric to more sociocentric and increasingly worldcentric and theocentric identity. The most recent performance was WorldSpirit, a spoken word and musical collaboration with Kenji Williams which was released in 2004 as a DVD.

Grey's unique series of 21 life-sized paintings, the Sacred Mirrors, take the viewer on a journey toward their own divine nature by examining, in detail, the body, mind, and spirit. The Sacred Mirrors, present the physical and subtle anatomy of an individual in the context of cosmic, biological and technological evolution. Begun in 1979, the series took a period of ten years to complete.


It was during this period that he developed his depictions of the human body that "x-ray" the multiple layers of reality, and reveal the interplay of anatomical and spiritual forces. After painting the Sacred Mirrors, he applied this multidimensional perspective to such archetypal human experiences as praying, meditation, kissing, copulating, pregnancy, birth, nursing and dying. Grey’s recent work has explored the subject of consciousness from the perspective of “universal beings” whose bodies are grids of fire, eyes and infinite galactic swirls.


Renowned healers Olga Worral and Rosalyn Bruyere have expressed appreciation for the skillful portrayal of clairvoyant vision his paintings of translucent glowing bodies. Grey's paintings have been featured in venues as diverse as the album art of TOOL, SCI, the Beastie Boys and Nirvana, Newsweek magazine, the Discovery Channel, Rave flyers and sheets of blotter acid. His work has been exhibited worldwide, including Feature Inc., Tibet House, Stux Gallery, P.S. 1, The Outsider Art Fair and the New Museum in NYC, the Grand Palais in Paris, the Sao Paulo Biennial in Brazil. Alex has been a keynote speaker at conferences all over the world including Tokyo, Amsterdam, Basel, Barcelona and Manaus. The international psychedelic community has embraced Grey as an important mapmaker and spokesman for the visionary realm.

A large installation called Heart Net by Alex and his wife, Allyson, was displayed at Baltimore's American Visionary Art Museum in 1998-99. A mid-career retrospective of Grey's works was exhibited at the Museum of Contemporary Art, San Diego in 1999. The large format art book, Sacred Mirrors: The Visionary Art of Alex Grey has been translated into five languages and has sold over one hundred thousand copies, unusual for an art book. His inspirational book, The Mission of Art, traces the evolution of human consciousness through art history, exploring the role of an artist's intention and conscience, and reflecting on the creative process as a spiritual path.


Transfigurations is Alex's second large format monograph containing over 300 color and black & white images of Grey's work. Sounds True has released The Visionary Artist, a CD of Grey's reflections on art as a spiritual practice. ARTmind is the artist's recent video exploring the healing potential of Sacred Art. Grey co-edited the book, Zig Zag Zen: Buddhism and Psychedelics (Chronicle Books, 2002). The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, CoSM, a long-term exhibition of fifty works of transformative art by Grey has opened (Fall 2004) in New York City. He lives in New York City with his wife, the painter, Allyson Grey and their daughter, the actress, Zena Grey.

Cosmic Christ

The Alex Grey Guitar

[With special thanks to Melissa Lin for introducing me to Alex Grey! First published 23 December 2008, reposted 27 )ctober 2013]