Broken Tunes

Even if each man could alienate himself, he could not alienate his children. For they are born men and free; their liberty belongs to them; no one but they themselves has the right to dispose of it. Before they come to years of discretion, the father may, in their name, lay down conditions for their preservation and well-being, but he cannot give away their liberty irrevocably and without conditions, for such a gift would be contrary to the ends of nature, and exceeds the rights of paternity. It would therefore be necessary, in order to legitimise an arbitrary government, that in every generation the people should be in a position to accept or reject it; but, were this so, the government would be no longer arbitrary.

posted by Terrence @ 11:33 PM 0 comments

I quote from a book, by David Gemmel.

The following excerpt, is a conversation between Aeneas, and Odysseus.
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"So, lad, we have much to catch up on," Odysseus began. "Have you fulfilled that ambition yet?"

"What ambition is that, sir?" Aeneas turned his ice blue eyes on his and Odysseus felt his blood run cold. Under the reflective surface of those eyes, he sought for a spark of the bright child Aeneas had been.

"Why, to build the biggest ship in the world. Don't you remember?"

"I was just a boy then. Children have strange ideas." Aeneas turned away.

Odysseus' anger, never far below the surface, rose again at the coldness in the young man's voice.

"They tell me you're frightened," he said conversationally. "Frightened of heights. Well, that is not unreasonable. Your mother threw herself off a cliff. You saw it. so you're frightened of heights. I understand that."

If he hoped for a response from the youth he was disappointed.

“But, I hear you are picky about your food, like a little maiden. Frightened you’ll swallow a fish bone and choke, frightened you will eat bad shellfish and die. You wont ride your horses anymore, frightened, I suppose, that you will fall off. You scarcely leave your room, “I’m told.” He leaned in to Aeneas. “What sort of life are you living, boy? What do you do in your room all day? Embroidery- like a girl? Is that it? Are you a girl in disguise? Do you dream of the day some ugly man decide to stick his cock up your arse?”

And then he saw it, for a fraction of a heartbeat. A glint in his eyes, the beginnings of anger. It was instantly snuffed out.

“Why do you insult me?” asked Aeneas.

“To make you angry. Why did you stifle it?”

“It serves no purpose. When we lose control we….” He hesitated. “We make mistakes,” he concluded, lamely.

“We throw ourselves from cliffs. Is that what you mean?”

The boy reddened. “Yes,” he said at last. “Though I ask you not to mention it again. It is painful to me still.”

Odysseus signed. “Sometimes pain is necessary, lad. The gods gave me a great gift you know, for reading the hearts of men. I only have to take one glance to know whether he is a hero or a coward.”

“And you think me a coward,” said the youngster, anger once more seeking to take hold. “My father tells me daily. I am a milksop, a useless creature. I have no need to hear it from a foreign sailor. Now are we done?”

“You are none of those things. Listen to me! Five years ago, we hit rocks on the Penelope. Her hull was breached and she was shipping water. She rolled on the Great Green like a hog in a swamp. Her speed was gone and she almost sank. We kept her afloat and made it to port. Then she was repaired. I didn’t judge her as a bad ship. She was damaged in a storm. I judge her by how she sails when her hull is sound. You are like that ship. Your heart was breached when your mother died. And from the heart comes courage.”


The boy said nothing, but Odysseus saw that he was listening intently.

Odysseus moved away from the cliff edge and sat down on a grassy bank. “There is no courage without fear, Aeneas. A man who rushes into battle fearlessly is not a hero. He is merely a strong man with a big sword. An act of courage requires the overcoming of fear.”

Raising his hand, palm outwards, he instructed the boy to do likewise. Then he reached out and pressed his palm to the boy’s.

“Push against my hand,” he said. Aeneas did so. Odysseus resisted the push. “Now this is how courage and fear work, lad. Both will always be pushing. They are never still.”

Dropping his hand he looked out over the sea. “And a man cannot choose to stop pushing. For if he backs away, the fear will come after him, and push him back another step, and then another. Men who give in to fear are like kings who trust in castles to keep out enemies, rather than attacking them on open ground, and scattering them. So the enemies camp around the castle, and now the king cannot get out. Slowly, his food runs out, and he discovers the castle is not a very safe place to be. You built a castle in your mind, but fear seeped through gaps in the walls, and now there is nowhere else to hide. Deep down you know this, for the hero I see in you keeps telling you.”

“Perhaps there is no hero inside me. What if I am as my father tells me?”

“Oh there is a hero boy! You still hear his voice. Every time your father asks you to ride a horse, or do some daring thing, the hero in your longs to obey him, yearns for a smile from him, or a word of praise. Is that not so?”

The boy’s head dropped forward. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Good! That is a beginning. Now all you need to do is to seek out that hero, boy, and embrace him. I can help you, for I know his name.”

“His name?”

“The hero inside you. you want to know his name, so that you can call for him?”

“Yes,” answered Aeneas, and Odysseus saw the desperation in his eyes.

“His name is Helikaon.”

The boy’s face crumbled and Odysseus saw tears begin to fall. “No-one calls me that anymore,” he said. Then he angrily brushed the tears away. “Look at me! I cry like a child!”

“Damn boy! Everyone cries at some time. I wept for weeks when my son died. Blubbed until I had no strength left. But we are losing the breeze here. You need to find Helikaon.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Why, you sally out from your castle and scatter your fears. He will be there waiting for you.”

“Speak plainly, for there are no castles.”

Odysseus felt sympathy for the youngster, but he realized that the damage caused to him by years of abuse from his father cannot be undone by a few fanciful notions. In truth, he thought, it will take years. And Odysseus did not have years to spend on a boy with a crippled heart.

Equally he could not take him on the Penelope and kill him – no matter what riches Anchises dangled before him.

So he had decided on one last gambit. “If I asked you to dive from this cliff to the sea, a hundred feet or more below, you wouldn’t do it, would you?”

“No,” replied Aeneas, his eyes wide with dear, even at the thought.

“Of course not. It is a long way down, and there may be hidden rocks that would dash a man to pieces. Yet, there is where Helikaon waits for you, lad. So I am going to give you a reason to make that dive.”

“Nothing will make me do that!” said Aeneas.

“Perhaps not. But I am going to jump off this cliff into the sea. I cannot swim, so if you do not come for me, I will drown.”

“You cannot do this!” said Aeneas, surging to his feet as Odysseus rose.

“Of course I can. Helikaon and I will be waiting, boy. Then, without another word, he ran to the cliff edge.

Even now, so many years later, Odysseus felt a shiver run through him at the memory. He had looked up at this ledge the night before. It had not appeared so high. But as he reached it and looked down it seemed to him that the sea was an awesome distance below him. The Penelope suddenly appeared to be a toy ship, crewed by ant figures.

Though he would never admit it to anyone else, Odysseus was suddenly terrified.

“Please don’t do it!” shouted the boy.


“Have to, lad,” answered Odysseus. “When a man says a thing, he needs to find the nerve to follow it through.

Taking a deep breath he flung himself out into the clear air. Cartwheeling his arms to stay upright, he plunged down, the drop seeming to take forever. Then he hit the sea with all the grace of a pig in a pond.

Rising agonizingly to the surface, his body awash with pain, his lungs on fire, Odysseus pretended to flounder, splashing his arms at the water. Glancing up he saw the youngster standing high above him. He felt foolish now, there was no way a frightened boy could make that leap, and Odysseus felt he had only made matters worse for the lad. However, he had told him he could not swim and now felt obliged to continue with the charade for a little while. Letting out his breath, Odysseus sank below the surface, holding out for as long as he could. Then he came up, took several breaths – still splashing like a drowning man – and sank again. As he surfaced, he looked up one last time.

And saw the sleek form of Aeneas high in the air above him, his arm stretched out, his body framed against the brilliant blue of the sky. The dive was beautiful to behold – and Odysseus almost forgot his pretense. As Aeneas surfaced and swam toward him Odysseus went down again. This time, a strong young arm grasped his wrist, hauling him up.

“Take a deep breath,” ordered the youngster, then dragged him back towards the Penelope. Ropes were thrown down and the two climbed on board.

Standing and dripping o the deck, puffing and blowing, Odysseus looked around at his amused crew.

“This is Helikaon, lads,” he cried. Gesturing at the youth. “He is a prince of Dardania. He saved my life!”

The first mate, Bias – a heavily scarred dark skinned man with grizzled hair – clapped Helikaon on the back. “I saw the dive. It was incredible. Well done, lad.”

Odysseus walked over to Helikaon, throwing a brawny arm around his shoulder. Then he leaned in. “How do you feel to make that dive?”

“I feel….” Helikaon struggled for words. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“Exultant?” offered Odysseus.

“Yes, that is it. Exactly.”

“You scatted your enemies, Helikaon. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. You found the path to the hero. You will never lose it again.” Swinging towards the crew, he called out. “Oarsmen to your places, and ready to sail. The Great Green awaits”

posted by Terrence @ 2:00 PM 0 comments

Beyond - 光輝歲月

posted by Terrence @ 4:58 PM 0 comments

張學友 - 心如刀割

posted by Terrence @ 3:51 PM 1 comments

Me? Not Competitive?

Someone I know commented recently that I am not competitive. Somehow that statement irked me a lot.

For that person to comment that I am not competitive, he needs to show that he is definitely and without any reasonable doubt more competitive than me. But, he has failed to do so. Time and time again.

Since I’m not in a particularly good mood anyway, let us see in what way I am definitely more competitive than the person who said I wasn’t.

That person has told me and a lot of my friends that he is totally committed to the club and the club’s cause, and his NEED for his participation and his DEFINATE win in the interpolys.

I have here, a few reasons why I believe I am more COMMITTED, and more COMPETITIVE than he is.

1)Even though I DO NOT have to take part in any more competitive matches, I still went to debate in SMU. – He did not come. Reason? He overslept

2)When I was training for Interpolys, I trained everyday. – He comes when he is free.

3)I went to SMU with respect, knowing that while not all university debaters are better than me, most are. – He apparently thinks he is better than ALL SMU debaters.

4)I went to NUS and I ranked 62^nd while that person, who thinks he is better than ALL SMU debaters happily sits at 120^th. Out of a grand total of 122 debaters.

Wow. How competitive he can be when sits 3^rd from BOTTOM.

How much more competitive can he get, if he doesn’t come for training?

But then again, he doesn’t need to train. He thinks he is better than ALL SMU debaters anyway.

posted by Terrence @ 9:19 PM 0 comments

Thanks to all who

1) remembered my birthday

2) wished me a happy birthday

3) got me something

Special thanks goes to

1) Family & Shumin

2) Norman, Zibin, Chin Leong, Melissa, Mical, Irene and Jean

3) Julian

4) Samuel

For making my 21^st special. :)

posted by Terrence @ 1:05 PM 1 comments

Recently, I read a book by Deepak Chopra, titled BUDDHA. And it is really a good book. After reading it, it left no doubt on my mind why it was on the New York Times Bestseller list.

And while I would love to quote the book, I stress that the material comes from the author, Deepak Chropa, and the publisher, HarperSanFrancisco.

Alright. Now for the excerpts from the book.

“I’m not speaking of a debt,” said Buddha. “Debts end when karma ends. My mistake led you into a trap. I believed that I was in a war with desire. I despised the world and my own body, which craved all the delights of the world.”

“Surely that’s not a mistake,” said Assaji. “Otherwise, it would be pointless to take vows. The holy life must be different from the worldly life.”

“What if there is no holy life?” asked Buddha. The five monks became extremely uncomfortable, and none answered. “You see,” said Buddha, “even holiness has become food for your ego to feed on. You want to be different. You want to be safe. You want to have hope.”

“Why is that wrong?” asked Assaji.

“Because these things are dreams that lull you,” said Buddha.

“What would we see if we weren’t dreaming?”

“Death”

The five monks felt a chill pass over them. It seemed pointless to deny what their brother said but hopeless to accept it. Buddha said, “You are all afraid of death, as I was, so you make up any story that will ease your fears, and after a while you believe the story, even thought it came from our own mind.” Without waiting for a reply, he reached down and picked up a handful of dust. “The answer to life and death is simple. It rests in the palm of my hand. Watch.”

He threw the dust into the air; it remained suspended like a murky cloud for a second before the breeze carried it away.

“Consider what you just saw,” said Buddha. “The dust holds its shape for a fleeting moment when I throw it into the air, as the body holds its shape for this brief lifetime. When the wind makes it disappear, where does the dust go? It returns to its source, the earth. In the future, the same dust allows grass to grow, and it enters a deer who eats the grass. The animal dies and turns to dust. Now imagine that dust comes to you and asks, ‘Who am I?’ What will you tell it? Dust is alive in a plant but dead as it lies in the road under our feet. It moves in an animal but is still when buried in the depths of the earth. Dust encompasses life and death at the same time. So if you answer ‘Who am I’ with anything but a complete answer, you have made a mistake.

A second extract reads,

“How many will die?” asked Assaji soberly.

“All of them, if not today then one day,” said Buddha curtly. The monks had never heard a heartless remark from their master, and this astonished them. His voice softened. “I told you that the first fact of the world is suffering. We can end suffering, but not by speaking of God.” Buddha’s arm swept across the entire battlefield. Which of these fighters doesn’t believe that God is on his side?”

“But God relieves suffering too,” said Assaji.

“Never promise such a thing,” said Buddha, shaking his head. “All this religious talk has nothing to do with us. I will tell you how to consider any person you meet. Look on them as being like a man whose house has caught on fire. Would such a man cry, ‘I’m not leaving until someone tells me why God made this happen’? No. he runs out of a burning house as fast as he can. The same is true of suffering. We must show people how to run away from it as fast as they can. It’s no use spending years discussing whether someone is cursed or loved by the gods.”

The closest fighting was no more than a quarter mile away, and they reached it in a few minutes. One horseman had chased another away from the center of battle. He had gotten close enough to thrust a spear into his enemy’s mount, which had stumbled and thrown its rider. Now both soldiers were on their feet fighting hand-to-hand; they were both experienced enough to use a dagger in one hand and a sword in the other.

As they walked closer, the monks attracted no attention – the two soldiers were blind to everything but their struggle. Even so, the five monks were shaken at the sight of violence. Buddha stopped for a moment to let them regain their nerve.

“When I was a warrior,” he said, “I learnt that victory could never be achieved without weapons. We have no weapons, but we will prevail anyway.”

Without a word, he walked directly up to the two fighters and without hesitation strode into the space between them.

“Get away, stranger,” one soldier shouted. “If you don’t move, you’ll be hurt.”

“Is that possible?” said Buddha. “Try.”

The two enemies stared at him in disbelief. “You must be insane,” said one. “Run away, monk. If I have to, I’ll slice you through with my blade.”

“That would be interesting to see,” Buddha said. His calmness was so unnerving that the two soldiers lowered their weapons, losing the edge of their fighting rage. From the sidelines Assaji shouted, “If you touch him, you are hurting a holy man. That’s a sin.”

Buddha turned and gave him a sharp look. “None of that,” he rebuked. He shifted his attention back to the two soldiers. “You both do your duty to the gods, but that hasn’t saved you from a lifetime of killing and fear. Why stop now? If you are so reckless with fate that you risk meeting your dead enemies in hell, I won’t stop you. I invite you to run me through with your blade. I will even forgive you in advance.”

By the time the spoke he last word, the two fighters were handing their heads. Buddha reached out and lightly touched the daggers and swords, which dropped to the ground. “Shame has made you lose your taste for killing,” he said. “Go home and find a better way to live.”

“I can’t,” said one fighter. “If I run away from battle, the king will take away my house; there will be no food for my family.”

“I promise you that won’t happen,” said Buddha. “Your king is going to disband his whole army today.”

The two soldiers were amazed and wanted to ask more questions, but Buddha signaled to the five monks and walked on. When they looked over their shoulders, the fighters were gone.

“I’ve shown you the first way peace can prevail,” said Buddha. “Some people can be reached by speaking to their conscience. Those are the ones who already know what they want to find an end to suffering. Through conscience, guilt, and shame, they will recognize their wrong when told to them.

posted by Terrence @ 1:13 PM 0 comments