A response to an e-mail my mother forwarded to me:

A couple of days ago, I was sent this e-mail by my mother. It was forwarded to me from my mother's friend:

To refine Gold, intense heat is needed.

The Gold ores are heated to their melting points. Gold melts at 1102 degrees C.

When the material is melted, borax or soda ash is stirred into the crucible to bind with the impurities. 

The liquid is poured into a mold, where the larger impurities float to the top as slag. The more dense gold sinks to the bottom.

When the mold has cooled, the gold can be broken off from the slag.

Returning from the Wake for Guan Teik's mother last Sunday.

I could not help but to reflect on these two sentences:

""The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, 

       but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure.""

The effect of mourning to the soul, 

is the same as the refining process to the Gold ore.

It stir up deep seated fear, insecurity, guilt and suppressed emotions.

These toxic emotions, 

like the impurities in melted gold ore, come floating up to the surface When we mourn.

They must be confronted, dealt with, detoxified, separated and thrown away.

Only then, we can be made pure in the spirit.

Pleasure to the senses,  

will only temporarily numb our pain, and 

momentarily deflect our attention from the hurt that is buried deep within.

They remain lurking in the dark recesses of our soul, 

ever ready to leap out and haunt us when triggered.

Gold, in order to be made pure,

must go through the furnace of fire.

Our soul, in order to be set free,

must endure the process of mourning.

A wake.. though it is a gathering to honor the dead. It is very much...

A wake up call for the living.

Here is my response.

Dear Mum,


To say that fleeting happiness was something foolish to relish in would be to state that it is foolish to crave the happiness that comes with chasing dreams. It would be undermining the warm feeling you get in your stomach after you have had a good meal. It would be dismissing the smiles that are put on your face when you get a hug, when you live, laugh, love, play, all the things that, while quick and temporary, are etched into time forever.


Even if these are things that we won't remember for eternity, these moments are also the ones that we hold onto when things fall apart, when the glass walls shatter and the mirage breaks, when we are thrust into the claws of adversity. These are the things that keep us going when we are alone at night and empty inside; these are the pieces of the puzzle that motivate us to chase something better, chase something more. It would be naïve to assume that when you wake up the next day it'll be happiness and sunshine; but some day, the rain will subside and you'll see the edges of a rainbow.


Before that though, it's the knowledge that things won't always be bad that keeps us going. Yes, we might have deep fears instilled within us of death and dying; what would it be like to not exist? What would it be like to fall asleep one day and not wake up the next? Muslims believe that the soul stays conscious within the body even after you die- what would it be like to be trapped in a coffin, that lifeless contraption of metal and wood? Thoughts like these are what make people turn to religion for the answers, an assurance that in this world where nothing is permanent, at least the last fibres of your being will be lasting; somewhere up there, in a hole in the sky. But what many don't realize is that the thought that we might not last a lifetime doesn't mean that our legacy won't.


That's why we do irrational things, silly things that might not make sense at a given time. Finish a novel. Write a play. Talk to our siblings. Hug a friend. The small things, the brief moments that put a smile on your face, the little things that add up to make a person human. Every word that spills from your lips has the potential to lighten someone's day or darken their whole life, and a general principle that I try to hold myself to is to make my mark for at least one person while I'm still here. To change things for the better, even if it's just to make myself feel good.


I'm in a foreign country sloughing away at a course I hate. Sometimes, I miss my parents, I miss my bed. But what keeps the fire burning is the fact that in three years, even if I might not see it now, it'll be worth it in some way or another. Even if all I learn is that law is a stupid course and that I should never force it onto my future generations, at least I had three years to learn it, and three years to experience the city of my dreams. London! It might be a childlike naivete that keeps me holding on, but my hands are still there, and I'll stay there grappling for something better. Even if you are motivated by sadness or fear, it is the light at the end of the tunnel that makes people slog, isn't it?


And it might be a cliché, but let me end my message with the age-old statement:


"Life isn't measured by the number of breaths you take, but the number of times things take your breath away."

So. What's your take? What do you think of life and happiness?

What do you think of life as a whole?