Hands on

Hands-on happened after all.

I don't like to think that I'm going for physiotherapy. It makes me feel so invalid. I was pleasantly surprised though to discover that it is simply some physical manipulation of particularly resistant parts of the body, that's all. I could almost see it as a deep tissue massage :)

After that, I was taught some exercises which I should repeat hourly in my work cubicle. Sigh...will do it even if people think I'm being funny. Well, in case you are in need of some release too, here's what I learnt:

1. Nod your head gently but firmly, pulling your chin into the back of your head. Don't arch your back.
2. Twist your upper body sideways, but the hips remain seated and unmoving.

There are other exercises too complicated to explain here. Oh, and I need to go and get some tennis balls to roll on, for the lower back.

Considering how dreadfully expensive the treatment is, I must faithfully do these exercises so that I can get the most out of them. Well...it is better to treat these problems now than to wait until I need even more drastic measures.

Charity Dollar

It is the season to give, a time when people are usually in a more generous mood. However, after the debacles of NKF and the now infamous monk, you can hardly blame us donors for being wary. People get tired of being treated like fools. I sense in myself cynicism when I encounter people asking for donations, even if they hail from well established charities. As for those from dubious, unknown organisations who ambush and accost passers-by at MRT stations, a civil rejection is the most they can expect from me.

It is disappointing to observe the way things have turned out. The generosity of Singaporeans has long been well known. Despite being mocked at for 'kiasuism', and ungraciousness, something of our kampung background remains We have always been prepared to help those in need, and this is a deeply precious quality of our society which we should not allow anything to disillusion. Now, although we know that there are people who need help, we just stopped trusting the middlemen who are responsible for doling out what we give.

That day I went to look at the balance sheet of a charity organisation, and was taken aback to see that despite having only slightly more than 20 employees, the total payroll costs the organisation over a million. Is the average pay high, or are a few of the 20 employees exceptionally well paid? Or maybe they hire experts and specialists who deservedly command such a high pay.

My point is, those who seek donations should no longer take our trust for granted. I would rather like to see the salary scales of charity organisations. Hey, this is quite a fair request. After all, anyone can go to my employer's website and have a very good estimation of how much I am paid! Surely recipients of the public's money should recognise that people want to know where the money is going.

After all, those who have nothing to hide should not fear the light of exposure. Something decisive has to be done before the public donor forgets how to give, and gets used to ignoring the plaintive cries of help. By then, it would be much harder to touch the indifference, and move us into donating once more.

Wear and Tear

When did Time happen?

I still feel like a kidult. I haven't even moved out of my childhood home yet! But there is no escaping the signs that my friends and I are...ageing. My neck and shoulders hurt all the time, and yesterday I spotted some grey hair on V's head. Sminy got injured picking up his cat.

Once upon a time, this reckless figure skater would crash badly unto the ice, get up immediately and try all over again. I certainly don't want to know how my body takes a fall now. Mortality is making itself felt. Suddenly, I realised that I can't always be getting away with abusing my body.

I'm not sure what the best approach to ageing is. Am I going to be like the American baby boomers treadmilling my way into my octogerian years? Or should I make hay while sun shines, and live with the consequences of a body carelessly used in my youth?

A doctor once cheerfully told me that the minute we are born, we are heading inexorably towards the destruction of our bodies. How chilling, but how very true :(

Breathing

Came across this lovely hymn yesterday. If only our Christian walk is as easy and natural as breathing, and with every breath we draw in, we are changed and renewed.

O Lord, breathe Thy Spirit on me,
Teach me how to breathe Thee in;
Help me pour into Thy bosom
All my life of self and sin.

I'm breathing out my sorrow,

Breathing in my sin;

I am breathing, breathing, breathing

All Thy fulness in.

I am breathing out my own life,
That I may be filled with Thine;
Letting go my strength and weakness,
Breathing in Thy life divine.

Breathing out my sinful nature,
Thou hast borne it all for me;
Breathing in Thy cleansing fulness,
Finding all my life in Thee.

I am breathing out my sickness,
Thou hast borne its burden too;
I am breathing in Thy healing,
Ever promised, ever new.

I am breathing out my longings
In Thy listening, loving ear;
I am breathing in Thy answers,
Stilling every doubt and fear.

Anger Management

I think, this is probably what anger personified looks like. A person gets consumed by anger, and cannot seem to stop the outpouring of bitter words. Nothing can make the vituperation cease, and it feeds on itself as it goes on. You can hardly recognise the countenance anymore.

I'm struck with horror at the destruction anger wrecks upon relationships. Today I have decided that I will, by God's grace, be slow to anger.

In the Police Station

It is probably the only happy reason one has to go to the police station.

Country mouse is finally going to move to another village for the first time in her life, and so she has to go and get her registered address changed. That is why I went to the police station.

Having watched one too many HK TVB series, I somehow imagined the police station to be full of sensational activities - men banging tables and demanding their lawyers, prostitutes trying to smoke secretly, and distraught mothers. Then I stepped in, and the first thing that greeted me was...a queue ticket machine. And, a polite 'please take a seat and wait for your turn.' Oh...I could have thought that I was in the clinic instead.

But I was very curious about the other people in the queue. Ok, I admit that I eavesdropped, just a little. It made my wait more interesting. Most of the incidents reported were petty thefts, like the loss of wallets. There was no excessive display of emotions, and no emergencies. But I am not complaining. It is a good thing that reality is very much different from TV.

In due time, I got my request fulfilled, and without fuss or climax, left the police station. Let it be the last time I ever have to go in.

Slow-mo

Life is ironic. Maybe God is making me learn patience.

Being addicted to the neckbreaking speed of figure skating, I've always scoffed the slowness of gentle exercises like Pilates and yoga. But when the body begins to exhibit signs of wear and tear because of these excesses, slowing down is the only way to go.

After yesterday's private pilates session, I realised that...pilates is even slower than I thought :( Time and again, Physiotherapist/Instructor urged me to 'slooooow down', to breathe correctly, to be still. Apparently, my muscles have the tendency to go ballistic and over exert even for tiny actions, and that explains the aches and strains. I'm too powerful, haha :P Now I'm told to use less power and control my strength, to give only what is needed for the desired action. Oh...less is more after all.

Then we use a hard spongey bar, the 'fitbar' to roll off the knots in those muscles. Owwww, but it felt so good. I hadn't even realised that there was so much tension in me.

It wasn't the most exciting exercise session, but I must admit that I walked out of the lesson feeling much more lithe and peaceful than I have for a long while. And who knows, I have a hunch that improving mind-body coordination is going to do much good for skating as well. Going for another session next week.