CJ John Roberts' address about life.

 

I always wonder, what is the best advice you can give to someone? How do you get them all prep-up for life ahead? 

Mm...if you are rich, you can give them a great financial push ahead of many who have to start with little in the bank. But money can also push one to dig a trench so deep, he or she will have trouble getting out of.

And if you are not rich, how do you encourage your kid so that they are fired up enough when confronting the furnace of life? Well, there is some truth that if you are going through that furnace, the only way you can get out stronger is when the fire in you is hotter than the fire that seeks to consume you. How do you then fire up that spirit within for a lifetime of lighted and guided path for the journey ahead?

Some years back, CJ John Roberts gave a speech to ninth-grade graduates of Cardigan Mountain Boarding School. I think it sums up life rather well. It is a good advice to give to anyone looking for a good wake up call. Here is how he puts it. 

“Now the commencement speakers will typically also wish you good luck and extend good wishes to you. I will not do that, and I’ll tell you why.

From time to time in the years to come, I hope you will be treated unfairly, so that you will come to know the value of justice. I hope that you will suffer betrayal because that will teach you the importance of loyalty.

Sorry to say, but I hope you will be lonely from time to time so that you don’t take friends for granted. I wish you bad luck, again, from time to time so that you will be conscious of the role of chance in life and understand that your success is not completely deserved and that the failure of others is not completely deserved either.

And when you lose, as you will from time to time, I hope every now and then, your opponent will gloat over your failure. It is a way for you to understand the importance of sportsmanship.

I hope you’ll be ignored so you know the importance of listening to others, and I hope you will have just enough pain to learn compassion. 

Whether I wish these things or not, they’re going to happen. And whether you benefit from them or not will depend upon your ability to see the message in your misfortunes."

Truly, he’s right. You know he is. You too are familiar with what he is saying. Whether you wish the cohort well or otherwise, the randomness of life will have its way with you. 

At some point in your life, you will be treated unfairly, suffer betrayal, be lonely, encounter bad luck, get your just or unjust deserts, lose, be looked down at, be ignored, or go through pain. Your kid will come to experience them too, no matter how much you try to insure their life against it. 

You can’t ensure he will make it to the desired school or course. You can’t ensure she will marry right. You can’t ensure fortune will always smile on his business venture. You can’t ensure her body will live up to its bargain. And you can’t ensure he will always follow the straight and narrow path. 

The last time I checked, life is still a box of chocolate. You never know what you’ll get. Some chocolate have already melted. Some are too hard. Some are too sweet. And some are too bitter. 

Genes, luck and character, they all play their part to pave a unique (sometimes daunting) path for each and everyone of us. Not everyone has their future path on surefootedness. 

I know some of you would rather just live and have less talk about it. What’s the point? How does CJ John Roberts’ speech change your life right? 

Anyway, life is never meant to be smooth sailing. A dingy in a vast ocean of uncontrollable/unpredictable tides and weather just about sums it all up, right? A speck of dust can’t will a change in the wind’s direction, so what’s the point?

Yet, the opportunity cost is even greater. Because, for every low, there is an even lower point we can go. For what are we if we lose faith in words? For what are we if we just live by autopilot? What are we if we can encourage a soul discouraged but keep mum because we just don’t think that it will make any difference? Yet, most times, it does make a difference. 

Words may be a part of the narrative, and action is the rest of it. Yet, CJ John Roberts echoes the wisdom of the ages, and for many who listen, even at their lowest depth, they can’t deny the power of its suggestion, even if it is just a nudge to change their direction. 

Let it echo in your spirit again, for what it’s worth, regardless of how deep you are in your situation. “Whether I wish these things or not, they’re going to happen. And whether you benefit from them or not will depend upon your ability to see the message in your misfortune.”

Yes, there is a message. There is a choice too. And you’ve heard about life throwing lemons at you, well, you can take CJ Roberts’ message as a shovel to dig yourself deeper in or dig yourself eventually out - one intentional shovel at a time. 

And it doesn’t take much from you, just that inborn ability to see hope as the message in your misfortune. And hope is always a good micro-start/step for a change in the needed direction.

 

Calling the young to embrace the crucible of adversity.

Never say die. It’s not all gloom and doom. Group solidarity. Play our part. Don’t just rely on Government. And the best way to predict the future is to create it.

How about that? Minister Lawrence Wong has spoken. It was at the NTU’s student union forum. His theme? Embrace difficult times as crucibles that forge character. 

He borrowed the adage of “how one could deal with adversity by letting it define, destroy or strengthen one.” How do you argue with that? You know the good minister is right, right? Inspired? Well, you have to be there to soak in the esprit de corps. 

He also said: “The Goverment will do our part to support you, and partner you in this exciting journey ahead.” I think that has always been our nation’s philosophy, from independence to the 4G leadership. It’s about adversity, agency and autonomy. That is, you do your part, we do ours. 

Mind you, the gap is not bridged by one party at one extreme. It is bridged by two parties meeting somewhere in the middle, or center left/right. But still, you have to take that first step, and be consistent in spirit and mind about wanting to embrace adversity, making a positive change and making it count until you reach your goal.

And talking about agency and autonomy, I am reminded about the resource curse. Over the decades, stats have shown that those “blessed” with natural resources like oil and minerals are always struggling to stand on their own two feet as a society or nation. 

Their society is so pampered, they suffer the consequences of fragility and inflexibility. More insidious is complacency and the prevalence of internal strife, where what comes too easy from mother nature tends to corrupt what is inherent in our human nature.

So, adversity can define you. It can transform or destroy you. That is why it is only half truth when they say that you give a man a fish and you feed him a day. But you teach him how to fish, well, you feed him a lifetime. That much resonated with me, especially the second part. Yet, after you teach him (or her), the next step is to go out there to fish. Fish don’t come to you, or throw themselves onto dry ground for you. 

And when you do go out there, don’t expect calm waters all day long. At times, things are beyond your control; like storms, they can wreck your day or catch. What-chew gonna do then?

That is the greatest struggle for anyone, at any age, right? And to be consistent about it, pushing through it with grit and determination, well, that can’t exactly be taught. That was what Lawrence meant when he said: “the bottom line is that all Singaporeans have to play their part and not just rely on the government measures and policies.” Each doing their part. 

Yet, between giving someone a fish, teaching to catch fish and rowing out there to haul in the catch (you can see how the transition subtly makes the giver or tutor unnecessary over time), there are many seasonal gaps that the young have to bridge. And it can be a real struggle too.

Yes, those upper class families will have it easier, but not those languishing at the lower rungs of society. That is in fact the mother of all gaps, and for some societies, especially the developed ones, with very high wealth and social inequalities, it’s really never the twain shall meet. The struggle for them is even harder. 

That alone is a major factor contributing to our age of disillusionment, especially for the young.

Sometimes, when I do sit down at some of these conferences, when they do speak about positivity and encouraging pick-me-ups, I always feel something is missing. In other words, that gap between the speaker and the listeners is just visceral, raw and real. 

Well, I am not giving excuses for procrastination or not breaking the inertia when self-mastery and self-responsibility are called for, but the young today are facing very different existential challenges from the young of past generations before them.

In a timely article today, entitled “Young graduates: Could economic and political setbacks radicalise a generation?”, a group of writers came forward to spell out a very different zeitgeist our younger generation are living in (or confronting). 

Apart from the wealth gap, they are struggling with their disillusionment with politics, as in the division and often juvenile antics of various political parties and leaders. They essentially felt “abandoned” by politicians. And the jobless rate has changed too, not on the rosy side though. For those under-25s, it rose from 11.5% to 12.95% (between Feb last year and this June, according to OECD countries). 

“In Britain, people aged under 30 are now four times as likely to rent than they were two generations ago”. And a Cambridge University study in 2020 shows that “faith in the democratic system had already experienced its steepest fall even amongst those aged 18 to 34 in the eve of the pandemic”. 

In one of the litany of lamentations, a technical analyst Niharika Singh, who emigrated to the US from India at age two, said: “My parents have literally said that they don’t want me and my sister to settle down here with our families eventually. This country has not lived up to the expectations we had, which is so jarring.”

I know Niharika is talking about America, that is, the nation’s social safety net is too narrow, but in Singapore, there is some parallel when it comes to the high cost of living, the income and social gaps, the struggles of the poor, and the hidden merit-fueled society, which outwardly embraces those less credentialed, yet inwardly conveniently shifts one’s prejudices, but not jettison it all out of his/her system. 

Alas, discrimination still exists, whether it is by merit, by age and/or by class. I won’t be surprised if some Singaporean parents offer the same advice Niharika’s parents gave to her - “don’t settle down here”. 

Well, our ministers can sit in an air-conditioned hall to encourage, and that is no doubt necessary and timely. But, the reality for many can be too discouraging for a seasonal pat-on-the-back speech. Good intention aside, it is the bleak ground condition that drowns out the positive, celebratory cheers by the side. 

What’s more, with the decline in religious faith amongst the young, and the climate emergency and random flooding, akan datang to a flat land near you, well, you sometimes have to squint real hard to find the silver lining in the gathering storm. 

Let me nevertheless end with what one graduate of anthropology in London, Hannah Tasker, said. ““I’ve learnt that “political” doesn’t have to mean political parties”...It means whether there is justice, whether the country and economy and society are working for everyone.”” Hannah however said, “it is not.”

That’s true. It still leaves much to be desired. Imperfect, screwed-up, world right? And Hannah and the many voices of disillusionment have all got a point. 

But, after all’s said, and when the rubber of self-mastery meets the plain hard road, I can’t say Lawrence is wrong. 

For who can argue with saying that “it’s not all gloom and doom”? Or, who can dispute the adage that “one could deal with adversity by letting it define, destroy or strengthen one”? Isn’t it true that we have come so far because we have not allowed adversity to destroy us, but strengthen us? 

They say people who are experiencing sadness, see the world more realistically and clearly. I guess that is why it is said, “blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Truly, out of the ashes, one eventually rises. 

So, at every crossroad or intersection of one’s life, we have to challenge ourselves, and pick up the broken pieces to start all over. Every step counts, every step to our own recovery. 

And yes, the best way to predict the future is to create it. But you have to want to see or imagine it first. More importantly, there must be a future in the first place where all people of all races, classes and cultures can have a fair stake in it. No one wants to labour in vain, without hope. 

I guess, we will just have to work together, because what doesn’t kill us indeed makes us stronger. And we have to decide to persist to make it work for all, and for all our future generations, in one group solidarity, towards vision and hope.

 

Shalom Lim's indefatigable spirit.

Some struggles/overcoming just have to be shared. Shalom Lim (24 yrs old) is one of them. His story is reported by Theresa Tan, in the series on millennials called GenerationGrit. 

At just three months old, Shalom was diagnosed with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. It is “a rare genetic disease in which muscles progressively weaken and waste away.”

At 16, during his O levels, Shalom nearly died of pnenumonia as a result of influenza. He blacked out at home and his father, Dr Joshua Lim, a general practitioner, resuscitated him. 

According to Ms Judy Wee, executive director of the Muscular Dystrophy Association (Singapore), “most children with (the condition) did not live beyond their early 20s.” However, she said ”with excellent care, some may live into their 30s.”

Lesson? I have three, and it is from Shalom’s own words. 

1) “I would like to help people, given all that I have been through. I had a good childhood, a good education, and I have been given many opportunities to learn and grow as a person. I have led a fulfilling life and I want to give back to society.”

It’s true. Whichever way you look at it, Shalom has been blessed with strong family support and friends, and “many opportunities to learn and grow.”

His mother, Grace, is a former lecturer and his sister, Jane, 31, is a lawyer. His father, Joshua, is a doctor. Family matters, especially when you have to struggle through a rare genetic condition. 

“(Joshua) still feels that sense of gratitude, (that is, grateful to be alive), even though he had to start using a wheelchair at the age of seven and now needs help with the activities of daily living, such as going to the toilet, eating and dressing. He is also hooked up to a ventilator, which helps him breathe.” 

At this point, I can’t help but think about the 5-year-old boy whose parents had locked him in a cage and threw hot water at him, which scalded him to his death. They were ordered to serve 26/27 years in jail. Alas, two different parentage, and two very different outcomes. One, the state had to bury, soon to be forgotten, and the other, excelled in life, to inspire many. 

At every crossroad in life thus far, Shalom was held up by loved ones. His father resuscitated him when he blacked out. When he had skin infection “that caused his veins to become inflamed” and his “muscles in both his arms weakened” to the point where he couldn’t write, his friends “stepped up to help him take notes during lessons.”

Shalom said that his mother is his pillar of strength. “My mum is my rock. Without her, I would have never come this far.”

2) It is reported that “what has helped (Shalom) deal with the darkness is his Christian faith.” He says: “We will all die one day, whether you are in your 20s or 80s. So it’s up to you to make the most out of life as you will never know when your time is up. The day you realise you are going to die is the day you also start living.”

That’s great advice, and I thank Shalom for expressing it so powerfully. You must know that yesterday, I wrote about youth suicides. Those cases in the age range of 20 to 29 have risen (as they have been before) and it is indeed cause for concern. 

For some of us, imminent death is an awakening. We fight on. But for others, it’s welcoming. We give up. Sadly, some feel that they have reached their perceived limit to “making the most out of life” and is looking for a way to put an end to it. 

Ultimately, regardless of our age, we have to ask ourselves, what is holding us up? What can we look forward to? How do we go from wishing to end it all today to hoping to live another day with hope and gratitude?

Shalom said: “I wanted to study and I didn’t want to give up halfway. I had faith that things would turn out okay. And I had the support of my family and friends.”

And the peacemaker/builder (Shalom) did just that. He graduated with a grade point average of 3.81, receiving a diploma with merit. 

Shalom was awarded the Ngee Ann Kongsi Most Outstanding Overcomer Award for his “strong perseverance in overcoming the odds or setbacks in life.” And he also won the Asia Pacific Breweries Foundation Scholarship for Persons with Disabilities. He will be studying criminology and security at Singapore Institute of Technology. 

Indeed, we will all face our death one day. And along the corridor of our mortality, a few of us are forced by circumstances beyond our control to make that painful sharp turn early to face a door marked, “suicide”. But many however choose to walk on by and choose to persevere with faith and hope. 

At this juncture, I am tempted to say that if Shalom did not have such strong support from loved ones and a community that cared, he may have turned out differently. For he himself admitted that much when he said “without (mum), I would have never come this far.” 

But let’s hold that thought as I end with Shalom’s words.

3) “I used to feel sorry for myself, but I have gotten over it. I have had to adapt to losing a lot of my abilities and I have to make the most of my abilities. Like I can still speak, I can still think and I enjoy reading and learning.”

“Now, I see it as a special challenge I have been given. I think it’s God’s way of telling me I’m made of sterner stuff, to help me deal with this adversity.”

I guess for some of us, we have many reasons to give up. Trials are painful, and socially isolating. We rather become bitter, with fist-clenched, and be skeptical about everything. Misery also loves company. In a nutshell, it just takes too much from us to want to be changed for the better, even if time is prepared to be generous with us. 

So, once we are down, well, we are down. And thereon, we see everything, even the good, from that lowly level. 

But Shalom, notwithstanding the unconditional support, is indeed “made of sterner stuff.” His faith was the only constant in his life; that is, a faith nurtured by a love that never let go, or give up. 

Realistically speaking, not everyone of us will experience such love, or born to a family that went all the way. Some will be left by the wayside - like a baby who was recently found in a rubbish chute, crying. Some will be denied many opportunities in life to learn and grow.

And suicide, I believe, are not just the reserve of the poor. They are also for the rich too. For the will to live cannot be bought. Money doesn’t solve all of life’s problem, and at times, it may just be the push to end it. 

So, after all’s said, are we then made of sterner stuff? 

Let me share with you a brother Shalom had. I kept this to the end. His older brother, Issac, also had duchenne muscular dystrophy. He died of heart failure last December. He was only 28. His death devastated Shalom, for his fragile peace was broken to pieces with the passing of a brother he loved so much. 

“(Shalom) felt the loss keenly and recently began taking antidepressants to cope with the grief.” He said: “I was so used to seeing my brother, and I felt an emptiness (after his death).” 

By way of faith, you just have to ask yourself, why does all these things happen to someone who has already gotten the short end of a mortal stick? 

And let me remind you that no matter how bless you are from the outside, with support and all, the will to live is an intense, and at times, very lonely battle, inside. It is not a given, and you alone have to fight for it. At times, the fight seems endless. 

But nevertheless, after reading his many overcoming, I think I have my answer to the question - “Will Shalom come this far without the support of his loved ones?” 

I believe we give credit where it is due, but I also believe that the fight to live on (and thrive) is a personal choice, that is, the resolve to make the most out of life, given the circumstances. The alternative is the choice to give up, or worse, to make the least out of it and just get by. Mind you, the latter is a life forfeited, squandered, which differs little from a life abandoned. 

Shalom at 24 has taught me to live and make the most of what I have. He said “I can still speak”, I can too. He said “I can still think”, well, I think I can too. And he said “I enjoy reading and learning”, and I love all that. 

These things cost little, if nothing, but the difference they make is life enduring. For a heart that takes nothing for granted, saves itself. It is a life that never lacks, because he has everything he will ever need.

 

Luo Tianze - music of the heart.

The meaning of “grit” is courage and resolve, that is, strength of character. And in today’s Generation Grit series is Luo Tianze, 31, a music teacher, who lost both his parents during the pandemic. 

His struggles touched me deeply because Tianze confronted many crossroads in his life, especially during Covid, but he never lost sight of the narrow path to growth and maturity. His story today is reported by Malavika Menon. 

It was a seven year ordeal for Tianze from the time his mother, Mdm Chia, in 2013, found out she has a rare condition called Neuromyelitis Opportunity Optica (“NMO”) to her passing in May this year. 

NMO is a ”central nervous system disorder that primarily affects the eye nerve and spinal cord.”

In 2016, Mdm Chia was also “diagnosed with second-stage lymphoma, a cancer that attacks infection-fighting white blood cells.” She was 60 years old then. 

While caring for his mother, Tianze’s father (Mr Low) was also diagnosed with fourth-stage pancreatic cancer in January this year. He passed away in September. Mr Low was 68 when he died with three of his children by his bedside. 

Tianze said: “I remember watching him sitting in his hospital bed during Chinese New Year and I knew he was scared; he was terrified about the future. I knew I had to stay mature, and keep pushing because becoming overly emotional was not going to solve anything.”

You must know that Tianze is an award winning musician. Struggling financially, his two siblings helped him to realise his ultimate goal of gaining admission into the Royal College of Music (RCM)-Nafa degree programme as well as winning the San San Music Merit Award and Higher Education Bursary, which covers half a year’s tuition. 

In fact, one month after his mother passed away, Tianze clinched the RCM Musical Excellence Award. The award was given away annually for “an exceptional student in the programme based on academic performance and financial needs.”

Tianze recalled this: “I was numb. I remember feeling surprised that I had received the award, and sharing the news with my siblings. But when I saw my mother’s empty bed every morning, I knew that the award did not make up for her absence.” 

He added: “The grief that comes from a loss like this is hard to describe. My parents were always around to greet me when I returned home after a long day of classes or a performance. They started this journey with me but I am finishing it on my own.”

Tianze misses his parents deeply, and the memory of their constant presence and love before their passing gave him hope and strength to face his days without them. He said he is “holding fast to his dream of teaching and helping others discover music as he did in school.”

Lesson? Just one. 

Indeed, some journey are hard to describe. It comes to an end before the map of that life runs out of road.

At that point, a trial becomes a crossroad, and you are confronted with choices you never knew you will ever have to make (or want to make or face it). And everyone of those choices forces you to take a step in one direction, towards hope or one empty of it. 

Tianze nevertheless took his, that is, one day at a time, since that day he sent his parents off. But it was no less a life-awakening journey that has transformed his life’s outlook.

He said: “I learnt compassion and above all patience during this period. I know I will be able to apply this as an instructor in a classroom.”

Let me end with these heartfelt reflection by Tianze. He said: “In the past, when I played music, a sad song was simply sad and a happy song was just happy.” 

“But now I understand the nuances. I can relate to the composer’s melodies or the change in notes. The loss of a loved one helps me relate to the songs beyond a generic negative or positive feeling, and it brought maturity to my music.”

What a reflection! I have learned from Tianze that you can live life generically or live it beyond the feelings, to experience the empowering nuances that an overcoming life has to offer. 

Life like music can be received with a passing appreciation of its catchy or wistful tunes to make you happy or sad. They are but momentary. But they can also be received with such depth that even in sadness, you still find hope, community and joy. And such resilience and maturity are for life. 

For the magic of a melody that ministers to a soul with such nuanced depth is that even in happiness, you are never led to a place of self-conceit and self-delusion. Your reality in life and music is anchored on much firmer foundation, where you would go beyond generic understanding to one that brings out the best in you, that is, to a safe and nurturing place where virtues like wellspring pours forth to fill and heal your broken soul.

Drawing a scriptural parallel here, you can listen to Amazing Grace and be amazed by a life sacrificed, or listen to the same melody and be amazed by how your life is transformed by a life sacrificed. That is the defining difference between a generic faith and a Christ-centric one. 

So, going back to Tianze, I guess that is why he said this when he was caring for his mum: -

“I would stay with her till about 9pm and then go back to school to rehearse alone. My music healed me and kept me distracted from pondering about the next day. It was cathartic.” 

Indeed, the power of music in our life depends on how we choose to receive it. Music can titillate the flesh for momentary pleasure, or it can minister to our soul to heal it for good. One is about a buoyancy that is unstable and unpredictable, and the other is about an anchorage that is undaunted and unshakable.

 

Faaqih Hilmy Gozan - the Grit of the Ferris Wheel.

If you want to understand life, take the journey, walk the road. If you should fall, pick yourself up. If you should rise, stay grounded. Don’t forget your humble beginnings, the falls that unraveled your humanity. In all that, keep your perspective long, take the long view of all things. 

In the weekly GenerationGrit this morning, Cara Wong reported about the hardscrabble journey of Faaqih Hilmy Gozan (“Faaqih”), now 26. Go read it. Here I will make it brief. 

It is called Grit of the Millennials because Faaqih tasted hardship early in life. First, his father lost his stable job during the Asian Financial Crisis in 2009. He said, “I didn’t have any pocket money and I was always hungry in school.”

As his father (and family of eight) struggled to make ends meet, Faaqih and his eldest brother had to work to supplement the family. They got creative and sold clothes and shoes to friends.” They made good money going door to door selling, carrying sack of shirts. 

Just when things was on an uptick, tragedy struck. Faaqih’s older brother was then studying mathematics at a German university (sponsored by a relative). In 2015, Faaqih received a call from his brother’s friend breaking the news that his brother had died in an accident. 

“I just couldn’t believe it,” he said. “There were days when he did not feel like eating or talking, but he had to grit his teeth and be “someone who was reliable” for the sake of the family.””

At that time, Faaqih had four siblings. They were from ages 11 to 23 and he had to give tuition to help his family foot the household bills. He said: “Whatever I had, I have to the family. I didn’t really go out, so I didn’t need that much for myself.”

But after he graduated with a degree in civil engineering from NUS and is working now with a construction company, things are looking better.

Despite the many setbacks, Faaqih and a group of friends gave back to society by organising a “yearly conference for Muslim youth in tertiary education called Tertiery Career Conference to encourage them to network with business professionals.”

In addition, he also created a social enterprise “to help charities and social service organisations make better use of their resources through an app called Connectus.”

Lesson? One actually, and it has to do with Ferris Wheel. I will let Faaqih share it as reported. 

“On the difficulties he has faced, (Faaqih) said: "Sometimes I'd think 'not again'.

"But I would always think that this can't be the end - there's got to be something more (to life) out there."

He said that life is not like a roller-coaster, as the popular saying goes, but like riding a Ferris wheel.

“When you're up there, you have to be grateful and thank God for the easy time, but when you're down, you have to remember that things will always look up."

Mm...maybe one can discern a subtle difference between a roller-coaster and a ferris wheel? 

You see, both have their ups and downs, but we often talk about roller coaster as if the highs are our desired aim and the lows are (more or less) to be avoided, something dreaded.

A ferris wheel however is not just about the interconnection, that is, one (high) cannot do without the other (low), like a roller coaster, but more about their joint partnership, an amalgamation, a synthesis to mature and grow us. 

So, the lows are not something dreaded, but a season of self-confrontation, reflection and transformation. A person with a ferris wheel mindset would look back to his humble beginnings fondly, even with nostalgia, rather than look back with abhorrence. 

You see, for a roller coaster, when you are down, you hasten to get that coveted high. You want to get out of it, There is always that eagerness to rush out of it. 

But in a ferris wheel mindset, the valley is like a wise teacher telling us to slow down, learn from it, realign our priorities and deepen our perspective, that is, to reevaluate what we think matters most in life. 

Like what Faaqih said, when trials come, he prays, “not for the hard times to become easier, but for the strength to overcome them. "If you pray for things to be easy, then you will be weak," he reasoned.””

So, a ferris wheel mindset is an indomitable attitude that desires not so much for better, easier times, though they will come, but a stronger, more resilient spirit. It seeks to change the person within, and not so much the circumstances. 

Here, I am often reminded that people succeed for different reasons. Their motives differ. 

A roller coaster life views success more one-dimensional. The lows are considered defeats, and they take it hard and personally. And the highs they strive for is so that they can boast about it to others. It is a form of pay back for ego bruised. 

But a ferris wheel life views the highs from a different perspective, assigning significance beyond the tangible. In other words, they view it from a long term len, that is, one that is less self-focused and more others-centered. 

Ultimately, at different stages of growth, such a person closes the gap between the highs and the lows, and see both as lessons in humility, hope and maturity. More essentially, they see nothing as permanent. They don’t hitch their identity bandwagon (or worth) to successes and failures. Both are means to an ennobled end. 

In other words, they see both as playing an important role to make him or her a better person, that is, a person of resilience and enduring contentment. A person worth emulating.

It's Ok to not be OK.

It’s OK To Be Not OK. 

That’s Asher’s message. Asher (means “Happy” in Hebrew) is a 32-yr-old social worker, married with one child. 

He runs a charity known as Limitless. He founded it in 2016 to reach out to trouble young people. He said: “I knew there were youth out there struggling, but they wouldn’t seek help due to the stigma of seeking help or for fear of being ridiculed. So we have to go out to find them.”

Asher is featured today in the Generation Grit section by Theresa Tan because he is a fighter. 

Mind you, it is a common foe that he fought against, or something we can identify with to some extent. Asher suffered from body dysmorphic disorder and “would obsess over perceived flaws in his appearance.”

He said: “I could spend three hours doing my hair. I would style it but hated how it looked. So I would wash it and do it all over again. It was an obsession. Popping my pimples was also an obsession.”

"When I looked into the mirror, I saw that my nose was not straight, my complexion was not good and I was too short... I felt that everything about me was not good enough and I could never measure up."

On top of that, that is, the insecurity and inferiority complex, Asher also lost his father at the age of eight. That hit him hard. 

He recalled many fond memories with him. He remembered a time they were trekking up the Rocky Mountains in US. They heard something rustling at a distance and Asher said: -

“My dad thought it was a bear and told me to run. It turned out to be a very big porcupine and we had a good laugh...My dad was willing to lay down his life for me. He left a very big hole in my life after he passed away."

His dad was a Polytechnic lecturer who passed away of cancer. After that, he struggled in school. 

He was bullied and he needed the help of a psychiatrist to manage his anger. Many times, he longed for his dad to be around. 

Of his relationship with his mum, who ran a tuition centre, he said: “I was not an easy kid and she was not an easy mum. We both had our own eccentricities."

After his PSLE, Asher was posted to the Normal (Academic) stream. His self-esteem took a beating. He thought he was stupid, on top of being ugly.

The story of his life then took a nudge in the right direction when he topped the N levels and got into Business Management course at Nanyang Poly. Later, he earned a degree in social work at Monash University. 

During his life journey, Asher suffered many panic attacks, felt inadequate, was bullied and teased, and he also battled depression. At one point, he even contemplated ending it all when he sat on a window ledge. 

Asher said that his Christian faith gave him perspective and “kept him out of bad situations and stopped him from ending his life.”

This was where he founded Limitless in 2016 to reach out to troubled youth. He wanted to make mental health “a key focus” for Limitless. 

Financially, Asher is living on his savings and his wife’s (Joanna’s) income as a senior dietitian. His take home from Limitless is less than $1000 and the charity depends on donations from various organisations like Tote Board and National Youth Council.

While Asher means happy, he admits that he still have feelings of inadequacy and depression has not left him. He concluded the interview with Theresa on this candid note: -

“My life is pretty okay right now. I like where I am. But the voices telling you that you suck never stop. You just learn how to drown them out so that it doesn't affect you. You learn how to cope."

Lesson? ...

My reflection on Asher’s journey guided me to many lessons of the heart. But one, in particular, that stood out is the loss of his father when he was only eight. 

When his dad died of cancer, Asher said: "My dad was willing to lay down his life for me. He left a very big hole in my life after he passed away."

Last night, my son (17-yrs) and I had a fallout. It was more me actually. I reprimanded him for not tidying up the house. He fumed and kept quiet the whole night. He even vented it out on his mother. 

But having said that, he did clean up the place, and when I thanked him, he walked away, still fuming. That’s understandable. 

And if I could turn back the clock, I would have done it differently. I therefore planned a dining out tonight with the family to make up to him. 

But my point is that to lose someone so dear is indeed likened to leaving behind a big hole in one’s life. It is especially so when he has been a firm anchor and stable ballast in your life. 

Alas, the importance of fatherhood cannot be underestimated. As fathers, we stand in the gap for our son and daughter, and in our absence or neglect, their hearts struggle to fill the hole with things and activities that can never match up to the undying affection and presence of a father. 

The laughter and joy shared between a father and his child strengthen the body and mind. The faith and trust the father has for his child expand his/her soul to reach out in courage and hope. And the love and sacrifices of a father generously fill the hole in the child’s heart. 

As long as we as fathers have this sacred opportunity, we should never take it for granted. I learned the lesson the hard way by always stubbornly thinking that father knows best or knows better. Most times, I am as clueless as a father as my child. 

I admit that I am willing to sacrifice myself for my child, but there is ironically a discernible disconnect between that profession and my daily, sometimes unconscious, actions. We just don’t show it enough to them for us fathers to affirm it in our words.

While Asher has sadly lost his dad, we who are still around ought never to squander away this opportunity to connect with our children. We should live intentionally and fight routine so that everyday with them is both a fresh experience and a chance to grow closer, and not apart. 

So, thanks Asher (and Theresa) for this lesson, and I sincerely pray for Asher, that he will find his peace, rest and hope in His overcoming love. Amen. 

Ps: Indeed, it is OK to be not OK as long as we as fathers learn from it - because we are only human.