Adiaphora

An ancient text says "Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long....". powerpuffgirl asked powerpuffmom, in whose image she was 90% replicated, whether this blessing / admonishment would apply to honouring of another's father and mother. Reason being that powerpuffgirl has been tasked with general oversight of the household, again, whilst all the other competent adults are away. Said household has 3 flu-plagued old folks and said overseer has the same cold. Being a superhero necessitates that powerpuffgirl is immune to all drugs and medicinal remedies available, though apparently she is not immune to contracting nasty flu bugs once everyone else begins to recover. 

And it wasn't that they didn't have other, perfectly able-bodied sons and daughters to look after them. It's just that powerpuffgirl was there, it was kinda convenient for her, even when it wasn't always convenient. But it doesn't really matter what other people do or choose. The world we live in is one in which the few are often carrying burdens of the many. It's a fact of life we can either rail against or redeem. The global economic crisis, which powerpuffgirl is beginning to suspect is being used by unscrupulous multinationals to costcut at the expense of the ordinary men-on-the-street's livelihoods, is a fine example. The increasing divide between the wealthy (of which there are a greater number than ever before) and the poor - not underprivileged - let's be brutally honest - people living in chicken coops dirt poor - is a result of self-pursuits. 

There are more 21st century kings, but still their fabulously rich dynasties remain just that - inward looking, self gratifying dynasties. Even with some of the clearly uncommon advantages afforded to these chosen few, with the tearing down of racial, cultural and social boulders and the rise of democracy, merit, and human rights, we find that there are still children working in modern industrial factories. Now they don't make matchsticks, but running shoes. There are still dictators killing their own citizens and whole governments who proclaim democracy and spend billions of hard earned tributes from their citizens, on creating, not resolving conflicts. Now we don't kill in the hundreds of thousands, but in the millions. They say that we study history in order to learn from it. But what are we learning? 

Sometimes all we need is a little reminder that we are dust. That one day, all our dreams will fade, whether we accomplished them or not, our cars will rust, bodies return to the earth, and if we are fortunate, our stories, our legacy of memories and deeds and words, might be preserved for some future generation to sift through. There is no subjective standard when it comes to the treatment of another creature. We devise new excuses. We justify the defense of ourselves, our lands, and forget to ask ourselves what makes it ours. Man cannot seal up the flaw in his inherent nature, until he surrenders to a law greater than himself and his own needs. 

Recently, in a visit to elderly relatives, powerpuffgirl found herself at a rickety sink, washing up dirty eating utensils and pots. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't to be despised either. The thought crossed her mind that those same soapy hands played the piano, twirled drumsticks, picked out tunes on ridiculously expensive guitars. They were responsible for writing what often influenced millions of dollars, determined the course of important international decisions. They'd been held and were desired to be held by any number of admirers, friends and little adoring kid cousins. They were strong, slender, soft hands that were made to change the world, or so powerpuffgirl liked to think, on the really good days. And yet, they scratched the dog behind its ears and washed up too-old, worn-down, scratched-filled pots for sick people who were too weak to bother if the pieces of leftover chicken were stuck to the bottom of the container. 

Its strange how one instrument can be so humble and yet so vital. So versatile. No superpowers required. Just the earnest ability to ask "May I do this for you?" and say "Sure - I'd love to." It wasn't even intentionally altruistic. She was under orders of powerpuffmom, who, after 27 years, still managed to twist powerpuffgirl's arm without actually lifting a finger, just kinda ESP-ing instructions on how to serve others. It wasn't a great thing. Heck, there were a lot of them, but they were pots. Anyone could have done it. But suddenly it felt like a privilege because it wasn't anyone, it was powerpuffgirl who got to volunteer to, for a short half hour, do something that meant nothing to her but much to others. For even the consummate idealist, there is a reality. And that reality may, in its humiliations and quiet moments, be just the reminder needed to draw a caped crusader back to her core humanity.

~

In, what seems an age ago (but is only about 15 years since), powerpuffgirl was young and foolish enough to believe that being, oh, 25 was ancient, and far too old for one to still be alive, and 30 was pretty much the far end of the hill. Having now passed ancient (with some years since), she's wondering how it was that she got here - head intact, even more impossibly idealistic, and a lot less disillusioned, despite living and working in an environment that, at first glance, is diametrically at odds with a powerpuff type.

She gave up trying to save the world all by herself. All those ranting at monsters and swatting at things that go bump in the night, whilst worrying about the sort of things that 12-year olds ought not to be worrying about, trickled away and turn into a stream of intrinsic hope. 

Pretty much because there was a safe environment to grow up in - not ideal - but safe, in every way. Kids make mistakes, they spill red ink on the sheepskin rug, try to dash across roads without thinking of the consequences, have to be toilet-trained, and before that, potty-trained, and before that, ass-wiped, cry frequently, don't pay attention when they ought to, for their own good too, and pretty much freak/stress out the adults tasked with making sure they do grow up - head intact, still madly believing in goodness and with big dreams to chase down. When they get older they talk back, sneak out of the house and break curfew, refuse to communicate, sulk, won't pose for family photos and get into a heck of a lot of trouble which we aren't going to discuss in detail here. Later on, they just keep asking for money and you wonder which bottomless pit it all goes to, when they're already eating you out of house and home. This goes on, infinitum, until the caregiver-child relationship breaks down, through death or estrangement. 

There's a point at which the dynamic changes. The caregiver becomes the aged parent, whose needs begin to increase and finally on balance, outweigh their degree of usefulness (at least so some would think). They have sleepless nights and need to be re-assured that they're not all alone. They can't get out much because their knees hurt and they can't walk and need to be pushed around in a wheelchair. Sometimes the aged parents have debilitating / length / frustrating / messy illnesses. Sometimes all of those traits come into play, making it, frankly, a heroic effort to deal with them. But powerpuffgirl, even on the days she isn't feeling very super, doesn't think its any much more heroic than what the first caregiver had to go through. In general, most aged parents may need a challenging degree of care for maybe 10 years, if you're lucky. Sometimes they get depressed, act stubborn, and give you a heck of a lot of trouble which details we won't discuss here. It costs money to get them medicine and supplies, never mind they're still eating, and alive, and able to smile at you sometimes, on the good days. It's tough. 

But powerpuffgirl remembers her Koong Koong wiping her ass, yes he did, and she's not ashamed to say it, when she was just a powerpuffbaby and violently ill and freaking out and her superhero parents were out working.  She recalls being carried (even when she wasn't all that little anymore) for miles and miles and miles not because she couldn't walk but just because she wanted to be carried. She always had someone to drive her to school and lots of other places that kids want to go, and know that it was okay to be far away from the familiarity of home because she always had someone who would be on call 24/7 to get her if she got scared and chickened out. She was put to bed everyone night, up until she was maybe a powerpuffteen. When she was too big to be tucked in, Koong Koong would still come by and annoy her at night (it felt like an annoyance at the time, silly girl) by checking that she was asleep and getting alarmed when she wasn't. She didn't realise it was such a great thing to be cared for, without asking, without demand, and without even wanting it but always needing it. It was a safe environment to grow up in. She was superloved. She could fall down after trying to fly and there would be someone to pick her up and bandage her scraped knees. 

Children grow up resilient not because they're left to fend for themselves but because they've been shown how to be strong. They are taught out of love, disciplined through tears from both sides, and knowing that they are allowed to make mistakes, are unpretentiously confident because they have nothing to prove in order to be considered valued, significant, worthy of relationship. On the other hand, there are some "high performers" who still go around with chips on their shoulders because they didn't know which of the old blocks they were supposed to be a chip off of. They perform, at any expense, to dispel potential rumours and possibly shore up evidence that they may be related to an old Victorian mansion, preferably one of the restored ones. But those who inherited the city on a hill never worry that someone's going to say otherwise about them. They've got the title deeds, which were given to them by someone who modelled to them how to act honourably and selflessly, in authority over themselves and their realm. 

A couple of days ago, there was an article in the paper about how to get through times of adversity. Apparently, a study indicated that those who had gone through particular hardship at an earlier age learned coping mechanisms and so, as adults, were able to deal with crises better. That isn't in dispute, However, the article then went on to suggest what those poor unfortunate souls who had happy childhoods were to do in order to catch up (ya, it actually serious. Someone please revoke the degrees of those who ran the study). Without lambasting this ridiculous proposition further, powerpuffgirl thinks its utterly tragic that anyone would honestly believe they're a success because they've made it by themselves, no thanks for the help, opportunities, shoulder(s) to lean on, interventions and saving graces extended by other human beings. It helps if you've had those experiences earlier. 

The writer of said article obviously didn't have a Koong Koong to show him it's okay to be vulnerable in times of crises. 'Cos when you've got people who love you just because, you can sleep easy at night knowing you're never without someone who'll catch you when you fall. And you know you'd do just the same for them, if the roles were reversed. Without romanticising the difficulties, it is a great thing just to have someone you once needed (and often still do, but perhaps in other ways), who now needs you.

~

Powerpuffgirl somehow pissed off the bosslady (hereinafter referred to as si tau poh a.k.a. STP) today. This happens quite often, mind you, but never whenever one thinks it ordinarily would. It usually happens, now one considers it, whenever powerpuffgirl becomes powderpuffgirl and acts, well, detached and neutral. Such disinterest annoys STP no end it seems, and in an attempt to stir some life out of the girl, STP got mad for no apparent (or at least a negligible) reason. Powerpuffgirl blossomed (pun intended) and naturally defended herself. Later, when it was clear that there were in fact some corrections to be made to work under scrutiny, STP was her normal friendly self again and didn't dish out a justified telling-off. It's kinda tough to work under that kind of unpredictable environment. But maybe its not so unexpected after all. Nobody who's paying good money for intellect wants a passive employee. It's that much overused, completely underpracticed phrase, "Takes initiative". 

The real danger for a comparatively young associate / executive in an organisation, of course, is that being too much of a self-starter can self-destruct. If you're always pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps, you start to get tired FAST. Sometimes you need people to pull, or push, you. If you're forever blowing your own trumpet and engaging in self-promo, the world starts to tune you out, you broken record singing your own praises. Besides, people are a bit smarter nowdays - they can spot a fakeroo plastic smile two miles away. You have to be genuine. Genuinely good and genuinely likeable. And it helps if someone else is noticing, and saying so. Also, when you've properly grown up and gotten over adolescent arrogance, you start to realise that wait a minute, you don't know everything there is to know about the world. That's not to say that you put on false humility, but one has to acknowledge that there's much knowledge to be gained still - and much of it can be gained through observing, and preferably being trained by those who've gone before you. The best thing a young associate / executive can do is to find mentors - if not in your workplace, then in communities, even one's own family. Actively seek out these experts, who as the Chinese saying goes, have "eaten more salt than you've eaten rice, punk". Find people who will help you, teach you, mould you and most importantly, believe in you. It's a hard world out there and we need all the encouragement we can get, all the (again, genuine) praise we can garner.  And if you can't find those people around you, you need to start thinking about moving in different circles, friends. Because community builds the individual. 

This is why powerpuffgirl doesn't mind skiving off now and again, like a normal human being would, and indeed, making a few minor, easily rectifiable boo-boos. All within reason and without actually undermining responsibilities of course. Especially with a boss like STP who's so vastly different in outlook and personality, who would approach things in ways that often confound powerpuffgirl. Methods can be standardised - a topic worthy of its own post - but style cannot. There thing about style is, its a personalised innovation which, whilst it potentially could be emulated, is always born out of a unique source. It's a creative streak stemming from a combination of background, experiences, and yes, character. 

So bring on the sharing, even if it is coupled with some antagonism. I'd endure any earful for the accompanying benefit that someone I consider a mentor still cares enough to notice and tell me off. Because as any young associate / executive starts rising up the ranks and excelling, people start forgetting the operative word - young. We young 'uns still have a lot to learn. Years and experience bring with them both hindsight and foresight, which simply can't be learned from swotting up (this might be marginally different for the obsessive-compulsives who spend way more time on certain things than the majority of people - I used to be one of them).

You know there's a reason why so many foul-ups have happened in living memory. There have been too many people living off their own gas, some even desperately preaching to themselves in an attempt to sell a product that couldn't pass the muster. Some get away with it longer than others, usually because they showed so much early promise that they were left to run things that shouldn't have been thrust upon them so soon, or so individually. I can think of one in particular who brought down the oldest merchant bank in London. We can read all the books in the library, practice on our own, fake it in front of a mirror and the audience, and maybe really really mess up or die trying to do impossible things on our own. But it would be much more effective (not to mention a lot more fun) to have someone, preferably wiser, not always older, to guide and cheer us on the way to true long-term success. 

A new year has come and it scarcely feels like it. For many in the world, it feels old, and not new, with a myriad of uncertainties to face and a world that seems increasingly unwelcoming. 

The festivities are dimmed in the expectation of tough challenges, which an indulgent generation fears as we enter times our modern soothsayers hail as both inevitable and expected.  

But (and there is always a but in the gloom and doom) there is still also redemption. For some of us, the seeds fallen to the ground will one day sprout a tree bearing fresh fruit. In the midst of conflict, the voices of reason and where that fails, compassion, begin to sound louder and more insistent. We begin to see how things ought to be, and momentarily forget philosophies, ideologies, as we remember our humanity. Economics gurus will draw lessons from our current crises that will serve our children in future generations, and hopefully, we will learn from history enough not to repeat it. We will revive our eyes and strengthen our resolve whenever complacency begins to set in. We will curb a culture that fosters greed, lives on spin and worships egotistical success stories.

But (and there is always a but in the macro policies we so easily latch onto) it is also a time for personal development, and development of persons, not always ourselves. For example, powerpuffgirl spoke to a friend today who had given birth to the much waited Baby E a couple of months ago. For the woman who recently embraced motherhood, there wasn't a need to say much. A contented sigh from gazing at the sleeping infant, the weight of unknown but unquestionably present hopes and dreams vicariously kept in the breast of the watchful parent, meant that words were unnecessary. There is still a worthwhile tomorrow to look forward to. Even if we have to build from scratch. Even if it means rethinking the kind of world we want to grow up, and grow old in. Even if it means becoming as a child again.

~