What to write about?

This morning I woke up and thought to myself, “What am I going to write about?” Seriously, what should be foremost in my heart? For I do not wish to invent anything pretentious. I do not want to write for vanity or self promotion. I desire to write about matters that matter. I want to leave a mark, a lasting impression with my words. I want to write so that I could learn too.

So, I stared at my computer screen and I thought it stared back at me. It was waiting for me to pour out my heart. It was waiting for some revelation to fill the page. The computer screen was all ready to receive my first seed of thought. I too was eager to write about something meaningful, something enduring.

If you have been reading my blog and Facebook, you will note that I write about various subjects. Religion. Politics. Mega-churches. Politicians. Corruption. Issues of the heart. Pain and suffering. Disappointment. Hope. Faith. Life as a whole. And so on.

Everything seems to interest me. Everything fermenting or fomenting on the world stage intrigues me. Everything about hypocrisy, duplicity, deceit and human folly on a grand and personal scale winds me up.

I have been critical about everything, everybody and mostly yours truly. When it comes to my mistakes, my foibles, I seldom held back the self-flagellation. I believe that I am aware of my own weaknesses. I believe that I see more of the faults in me than others. So, no subject about my flaws, life in general, love and relationships are off limits.

But I am stalling here. I am wasting your time having read so far without providing you with any concrete direction. At the very least, I owe it to you my readers to come clean about what I want to write about this morning. I owe it to you to be forthright. And now, I still haven't thought of the subject before it's time for me to pack up to leave for Church in one hour's time. I am admittedly (and quite pathetically) struggling to rein in and come to terms with my thoughts. I am chasing the wind.

Then, right at this moment, some events in the past struck me. It is a recollection of the most ordinary moments in my life. I am writing them as I am recalling them here. They are nothing grand or portentous like some political revolutions brewing somewhere, some corruption exposed, or some religious revelation moving hearts and minds. No siree. These personal recollections are all too mundane at first sight to stir up anything of any significance.

They are in fact recollections about the time I was walking with my 10-year-old daughter to school. I do this ritual every morning. My mind is directed to our most pedestrian conversation together in the early hours of the morning. I recall her trying her darnest to share a joke with me and I am trying my darnest to find the punch-line. It is one humor needle in an all muddled haystack.

Then, the image of her face smiling at me in a nondescript coffee shop pop into my cerebral screen and the same got written into my computer that you are now reading. Too mundane for capturing any attention I guess.

I also thought about my son, 14 years old. I thought about us running together; he is fast. I thought about him when I sent him off and saw him struggling with his school bag as he disappeared into the crowded bus. Nothing earth shaking right?

Quite unconsciously, another recollection comes in unsolicited and my fingers are busy banging away on the keyboard. The image is about a room, my room. And it is all quiet, pin-drop. My view zooms in onto my 5-year-old daughter, sleeping. She is a picture of unshakeable peace. I guess mothers with young kids know exactly what I am talking (or writing) about.

Words cannot fully capture the moment when your baby sleeps. All that restless, and seemingly endless energy just converges into a singularity of phenomenal tranquility. For that frozen moment, you feel one with your child and all your anxiety gets suck back into a distant blurry blot.

Then, right at this moment, the image of my wife emerges. I recall the time I proposed to her. I was on Sentosa bridge, on one knee, and with a modest personalized silver ring, hardly visible when worn, I asked her to marry me. Her answer still echoes in the chambers of my heart. The elation could still be felt.

That is all I could think and write about this morning and I apologize if I have bored you my readers with the most ordinary moments of my past. I wanted to write something profound, purposeful and provocative even. But I am at a loss for subjects that measures up.

All I could muster is some personal recollection about the simple joys of life. I guess when you think about it, when all the dust finally settles, it is home that your heart is eager to return to. In all your busyness, in all the work issues that consume you, it is home that you can never let go. Ultimately, it is home that your heart has never really left.

And if there is anything worth writing about, I guess for me it would be the one subject that starts and ends with where my heart has always been - home. I therefore wish that you my readers will always hold on to that same unshakeable anchor that keeps you afloat amidst the torrents that seek to draw and entice you away. And that anchor is and has always been... your family. Cheerz.