What do you believe in?

Have anyone ever wondered whether if there is a new God living among us and looks just like one of us? But no one approves of this when they already had their own set of beliefs of God? 

Different people practice different religions, I was born into a family who practices Taoist Buddhism. I get asked frequently in conversations of what do I believe in or which religion do I belong to, they assume that I am a Christian because of my name.

There was once I was working part-time in a car servicing workshop and there was this friendly customer who had a chat with me. Once I've introduced myself, he started me questions like "Hey, are you a Christian?", I said no. "Then do you know that your name is a Christian name, and Aaron is the brother of Moses?" I replied with a reluctant yes, and in my head I know that the name Aaron has an Islamic relation to the Koran. He then bombarded more questions and started explaining to me more about Christianity as he was persuaded me to join, where he started joining a year back. That customer's attempt of persuading me to go to a church failed as he told my boss to let me go off early so I could follow him to church, which is absurd. His car service took only 20 minutes, his attempt of dragging me into Christianity lasted for 6 hours. From my lunch time until I finished working.

The thing is, religion cannot be forced upon a person. Nor can it restrain anyone of doing what they want to do. In my perspective, it serves as a guideline to many of us humans. As much as I am a Taoist Buddhist, I do my own research on Theology, the study of concepts of God and it's influences.

Everyone questions whether God exists at least once in their lives, and many have tried to prove His existence. Even wars were sparked due to different conceptions of God by different beliefs, notably the Holy War. It was a taboo to talk about other's religion to some even up till today.

But what I notice is that many of my peers today are calling themselves Atheists, a person who does not believe in the existence of God. Atheists are deemed rebels, but I find that to be untrue as my friends that are atheistic are still good people who has moral ethics. Perhaps what they believe in was different. Or perhaps the beliefs of following the Bible, Quran, Bhagavad Gita, words of prophets, popes,priests, monks and such were outdated. I have an uncle who is an Atheist as well, as he have always believe in Science. What he said was "Science have never been wrong so far. Humans could be wrong for many years for all you have known.". Such bold statement can be hard to swallow for the narrow-minded. No one could say that he was right, nor was he even wrong. Science have yet to prove the existence of God, but this does not prove that he does not exist. Some things in life is just like the wind, you might not be able to see it but you can feel it.

In Buddhism, Buddha was not God but a sage who founded a belief and created a goal for his disciples. Taoism believed in deities, and was depicted by Lao Tze. Prophet Mohammed was a messenger that spreads his beliefs and message of God. Jesus was claimed as the son of God. So I ask myself, in who or what do I really believe in? 

My own perception of God was; it is a beautiful art, an epic tale that was told by one human to the next. The only problem about telling the tale is that the words get twisted up from mouth to mouth. Can you see how Islam and Christianity is closely related? Or how Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and Sikhism is very much alike? I believe we humans screwed the story up somewhere, that is why it was branched out.
In short, God may have been just a perfect human. But what I truly believe in is not God, but in altruism. Altruism is to do good, regardless of to whom or what. And the main objective is to be selfless, where each of the existing religions have been teaching for centuries; to do good.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter on who or what do you believe in; as long as you believe in yourself.

ANIMALS

I love animals, they are such magnificent creations of God. I love cats especially, so did my family. To count how many cats my mother used to raise, it could reach over 50.  My mother used to tell me about her childhood, how her family was living in a mansion at Bellamy Road, which was now demolished and turned into a highway next to our National Library.
Many years back it was just a mansion there for her family surrounded by jungle. Being next to the jungle, she described that many animals came to their garden and field; such as monkeys, goose, cats, dogs, peacocks and squirrels. I can picture it like a beautifully made-up movie scene. Now all of that is lost due to modernization.

Kuala Lumpur now has become a concrete jungle; there is no place for any creatures to roam about. Even if there is, they are considered pests. Stray cats and dogs can be found in many streets and be treated harshly. There is no clean food or water offered to them. I feel sick of other human beings treating animals badly, after all they are inhabitants of the Earth ain’t it?

As a cat lover who had many cats as pets, I am more biased when people ask the question “Cats or dogs?”, but I have not been biased anymore since an incident happened.

I was walking back home late at night through a dark alley, one which I have to pass through to get home every night after finding a parking lot. There was this dog, it does not look like a stray as he was mighty and white. It look like it was being taken care of by an owner beforehand as he was clean and strong. It came up to me and walked alongside me. I was scared at first as there are many fierce dogs around the neighborhood, I felt safer with its presence. The dog seemed like a friendly one, he slowly followed me as I walk back home. Before I was about to reach, another pact of stray dogs were surrounding the path that I must cross. They started barking at me and ran after me. I tried to remain calm until one of them tried to attack me. The mighty white dog pinned down the strays and protected me. I felt thankful and headed back to my apartment.

The very next day, I got bread for the white dog. He seemed happy, but he had no home. If I lived in a bigger house I would have taken care of him. He would sleep under a big tree or cars on a sunny day and there was no shelter for him when it rains. He did not roam far from the neighborhood. He would walk around and greet people but he seems to be looking for something, perhaps he was looking for his previous owner who abandoned him. Weeks later he went haywire chasing cars along the street. He was lonely waiting for someone, I can sense it. So was I. I never understood why people say why dogs are men’s best friend, I can slowly understand now. Their loyalty is unmatched, not even to humans. And from then on I was never biased, I would love all and serve all.

One thing I do not understand about us humans is that, many of us don’t have a conscience for them. Every day I can see a dead animal on the road, dogs and cats. They are so busy that they could not even step the brakes to save a homeless living thing crossing the road. Some cruel ones that kills them for human benefits are not even comparable to animals. I may have lost hope in humanity, but I have not lost hope in animals yet.

His name is Chester Bennington. I have been listening to his music each and every day since many years back and have idolized him.

Some have asked me this, "Why do you idolize a rockstar? Why not someone with a better background instead?" The word 'idolizing' may be a strong word, but I'm not holding it back or ever regretted.

He is known for his capability of singing high pitch vocals and is capable of screaming/growling at the same time and this gift of his was formed by the thorns of his past.

Here are a few videos of his live performances, where he can sing like an angel or scream like a devil

His parents divorced since he was young and had a tough time growing up.
He was sexually abused back then.
He was being bullied, beaten up and laughed at back in school and was treated as a nerd.
He was poor and worked at Burger King's for a living while travelling with only a skateboard.
He married his first wife who is his best friend without a wedding ring because he couldn't afford one but still did it out of pure love. They went through divorce after some time.

Going through so much pain, he took all kinds of drugs and alcohol to try to kill it off.
The drugs almost took his life, yet he managed to turn over a new leaf and come clean.
On his 23rd birthday, he skipped his birthday celebration for the sake of getting into the band called Xero; which is now known as LINKIN PARK. He wrote many songs with Mike Shinoda and worked hard to achieve to where he is now.
Now, he is a loving father of 5 children and is married to a beautiful loving lady. And he is still keeping his ex-wife as a best friend.
He broke his arm during the start of a concert and carried on for two hours without cancelling it.

He reminded me of the pain I've gone through, each and every lyrics of his was poured out emotionally in all of his songs where I could put myself in his shoes as he fits into mine. He and his band helped me overcome many endeavors back then when I thought no one would listen to me.
I went through a leap of change and slowly mature through their ever-changing style of music.

He isn't just a rockstar to me; he is an idol, and at the same time; a brother, a father, a role model.

Ever felt so alone even when you’re surrounded by a large group of people or even people you know dearly?
I do. In fact, I always do.

Perhaps there was no one that I could really relate to amongst many of them, or perhaps no one understood me.
I have lunch frequently with my usual course mates, and often time I analyze that all they are saying is merely empty talk, hypocrisy and acting phony each and every day. I get it that conversations don’t have to be serious all the time, but this group that I am referring to had conversations running dry and repetitive all the time.

It was hard for me to ‘feel at home’, so in the end I had to pretend to not feel so alone. And this is coming from the horse’s mouth talking about hypocrisy moments ago. From my perspective, everyone’s a hypocrite; including myself. It’s just the matter of to what extent. I was never pretentious, I always believe in being myself at all-time. But I had to lie to that bunch that I am feeling comfortable being around them but deep inside I know I just don’t belong.

I tried really hard to find a place to ‘belong to’ in university, it’s not that I am bad at making friends; so far I have never faced problems making friends since I started my university life. There was not a tad of fear for me to talk to random people sitting around me in a lecture hall or a classroom. Perhaps it was only in the very first semester of Foundation only I had such fear being a freshman. Even before that, I have easily gained many friends from my high school days. Almost everyone in school knew who I was, they regarded me as a ‘popular kid’ even till today at a university level; a title which I find ridiculous as I was just being friendly. Why would anyone crave to be popular? I never did. What’s the point of being known by many and yet feel so lonesome? Who would want to be estranged by the rest and looked highly upon for no apparent reason? I never enjoyed the attention and be treated differently.

I looked far and wide searching for a ‘home’, so I tried joining all kinds of clubs offered in my university. Dance club, performing arts club, social science club, and heck even the cheerleading squad.
I love to perform in all forms, but I didn’t feel welcomed in any of the club except for the performing arts club. People from the Dance Club, they all had their own clique and are selfish of teaching dance moves to newcomers. The girls from the cheerleading team are willing to train and practice, but something was lacking in terms of interaction. Only in the performing arts club that I can do whatever I want and be accepted for who I am, but sadly many of the main members have graduated and are busy working. So I had to look for more alternatives.

And each day I return home, I feel even more lonesome even when my family members are at home. Everything seems so dysfunctional. I felt so depressed that my house is merely a house, not a home. It's just a place which I choose to return to, not that I have much of an option. So I had to wander off the house to look for one, and try to look for people who makes me feel more 'at home'. And till today I still could not find any community to belong to, I had to adapt and learn to enjoy the silence and loneliness within. Only lyrics from my favourite band, Linkin Park understands my pathetic state of mind.
And thanks to this song, I slowly learn to be stronger on my own.

NO ROADS LEFT

Standing alone with no direction
How did I fall so far behind?
Why am I searching for perfection
Knowing it's something I won't find?

In my fear and flaws
I let myself down again
All because
I run
Till the silence splits me open
I run
Till it puts me underground
Till I have no breath
And no roads left but one

What exactly is love?

I rushed to the nearest gas station near my neighborhood to fill up fuel for my car as it was running on empty. A friendly Bangladeshi worker from the station came up to me to lend a hand, he then had a quick conversation with me. It was just another casual conversation and all, until to a certain point where I tried to ignore a question he asked: 

"Hey, you're a handsome young lad. Why don't you get yourself a girlfirend? Perhaps you can even introduce me to some of the ladies you've met?". 

I just laughed along and treat it as a compliment. I then head to my driver seat, start the engine and drove off. But the truth was this; I wasn't ready to get into a relationship. This may sound real stupid or even 'gay' to be coming out from a guy's mouth, but it just have to admit this; I suck at relationships.

People who knew my Dad said that I was blessed with his good looks. But yet I was nothing compared to what he was nor did I abused this gift (Or a curse. Why is it a curse? I'd explain later). Plus, I never wanted to be compared to him even if he was such a stud.

In his sophomore years, he was a chick-magnet with peak confidence. And according to my Mom, most of his exes had hourglass figure matched with a pretty face. He once went into a club and got beaten up just because all the ladies had their eyes on him while their male counterparts were filled with jealousy, that's how powerful his charm was; whether if that fact was exaggerated or not. My mom added on that she had no idea how did he ended up chasing after her, even when my mom turned him down and refused to marry him at some point of their lives. But all in all, she knew that they were meant to be since the first time they laid eyes on each other. Hence, me and my sister are the product of their love. And even when he left us, my mother never considered of marrying another man. That was 'true love' described by her.

Relationships never worked well for me. Different people describe what love exactly is to them and what it supposed to be like, but I was never convinced of their perception or the 'ideology' of theirs; not even my mom's.  I pretty much envy those who can keep a relationship running for years. Taking my sister's relationship as example, she has been dating this guy who is 6 feet tall since she's 14; she is now 22 years-old and both of them are still together. 

I tried to find my own equation to this question of love. Nothing seem to work so far. Every relationship I got into turned into a total disaster for me. Growing up to be the only guy in the house, I did not have a chance to have any man-to-man talks with my late father.What makes it worse is that I never had any female friends during my primary school since I was a fat dork. What puberty did to me truly did change me drastically tho, this is where I find the blessing a curse.

My looks slowly resemble my father, but I did not inherit any of his confidence. Deep down inside still lies a shy fat kid who had no guts to talk to women. But I was pretty much in luck, I didn't need to approach any ladies to make a first move in my high school days, they did instead. It was nothing to be bragged about but instead, I should be ashamed of myself about it. 

I believed in commitment when it comes to relationships no matter how outdated it may seem in a modern society. I thought all I had to offer was love.I put full commitment onto each of it and the longest run I had in one of them lasted for seven months but all the results were the same. I got dumped in the end of all my previous relationships and was left devastated as it seems as all my effort were laid to waste. I gave all I had to the ones I loved and in return I was left to pick up the pieces alone.

And when it ends, I cannot help but to feel stupid and yet continue to stay stupid; begging my way back to the relationship trying to fix things. Like a pill of ecstasy which sets you into a long psychedelic trance and wears off, but you're broke to buy another pill. You had nothing more to give, so your dealer stopped giving as well.

But to deal with the truth, crumpled paper can't be straightened again. Perhaps I've just got a slight taste of what love really does to someone: making us stupid yet not minding to be dumb until we finally snapped out of our dream. But that dream was your favorite, no matter how bitter it was to even recall it; given the chance you would want to dream again. That might be it, but it didn't really answer the question.

So back to where I was, I drove to a fast food chain nearby the institute which I study in and sat down in deep thought, staring into the air. After some time I figured out what love actually was in my very own definition.

"Love is like making a perfect cup of coffee, you need the right amount of coffee, sugar and creamer.

The coffee keeps you going, but you'd end up sleepless if you have too much.

Without sugar and creamer, your coffee will turn out to be bitter.

When added some creamer, it will taste smooth but blunt without the sugar.

Added some sugar, it will be drinkable. But with too much of sugar, you'd stop in a few sips.

When all elements merge with the right balance, you'd get the perfect cup.

The question is,

Will you drink it fast or slow?

Will you enjoy it while it's still hot and risk burning yourself?

Or do leave it till it turns cold? 

Whichever way you take doesn't matter, the last drop will still be finished and all that matters is you had a taste of perfection. "

The ultimate lesson.

I remember about a decade back, when I was still a kid, life was pretty difficult for me. The 'quiet fat kid' and 'the hopeless one' was what they used to call me. I had no realistic dreams, talent, passion, nor ambition. I remember being told, "You will never learn a thing, stupid.".When a teacher asked me, "Aaron, what do you want to be when you grow up?". I replied to him, "I want to be a grocer". He stood there baffled, one is because it sounded like I have no ambition and two; he actually didn't know what a grocer is as I recalled he had atrocious English. While the rest of the class laughed. The teacher then told me in Malay, "Why not set a better target like your friends? Like being a pilot, businessman or a lawyer?". I knew the world isn't so fair to work that way.

All I wanted back then was to stay at home and hide away from those who hurt me and enjoyed my suffering, I dislike school because everyone misunderstood me including my teachers.

Oh, how can I forget how I was being abused verbally by almost everyone,

Teachers used to think that I was stupid, my classmates insulted and gossiped about me by calling me 'fat-ass' and ' a stupid bastard'. My father once growled at me saying "I wish you were never born!".I remember I used to stand in the corner for 3 hours for not finishing my homework. I remember I was being beaten up by bullies until I was unconscious, I remember my father would come back from work every night wielding a rattan cane to release his tension at his only son until his back and thighs bleed, and there was even once my father threw a wooden chair at me and beat me with it until I can stop crying. He would hit harder if I carry on crying, I only stopped crying because I was already unconscious. I was left on the floor half dead and numb while the rest of my family members just watch as he beats me.

I remember how much I envy the other children at school, being pampered by their parents and have plenty of friends. I remember how my father, the person that I look up to turn into the person I hated the most. I remember how I cannot voice out my frustrations, just because I am the youngest member of my family. I remember how much I hate hearing my relatives say "Gosh, you look exactly like Alan when he was younger. Such a chip of the old block.", I really hate to be compared to my father although I used to look up to him. Yes I remember every moment of it, every ounce of pain by just thinking of it. Such scars in my head cannot be removed.

I was afraid of everything,afraid of being bullied in school and in my own home and heck, even afraid to speak up for myself. And at times, I hope I would be ran over by a car to end my life and my sinister mind always tend to curse the people who tormented me.I grew up with so much anger, like a time-bomb waiting to explode. I had to stay silent and suppress all the hatred inside of me. I have lost faith in God, I always pray that my suffering would end but it just keeps coming. Seems that He never heard me cry. I cry almost every night of my life silently while everyone else were sleep. Being in primary school, I only had one friend which was the smartest student in the school named Gan. He was a child prodigy, a child with so much knowledge of the world at such a young age and questions that provoked the mind of teachers. He was the only person I could talk to and make friends, yet they talk bad about him because he hangs out with me; the unpopular kid. Gan was the first person who I can truly call, a friend. On my final year at school, my English teacher was pretty concerned about me as well towards my emotions as well as academics. She was a true teacher as well, she gave me free tuition classes to brush up on my English where I started scoring high marks for it. Eventually I was the top scorer in the subject. I remember an inspiring quote that she told me,

"To succeed, do not follow examples. Be an example yourself" 

My father suddenly stopped working for months, and he came up to me to tell that I am growing up already and have to start behaving like a man. He requested my mother to get me a phone and a set of keys to the house. Nobody told me why was he being so nice to me of a sudden. But with each day, I can see his physical energy slowly seeping away. I can tell by the way the strokes of his rattan getting weaker and weaker. I thought I was the one getting stronger instead, so I started being rebellious. And he came up to me one day asking me, "Hey, you hated me so much right? Show me how much you hated me then!". I broke the doors in my house with kicks and punches, made holes on them and got myself injured and bleeding. That somehow relieved my anger, yet leaving me a sense of guilt from the inside. After all, he is my father.

Another few months pass on, his muscular physique started to shrink. He have been visiting the hospital very often and my mother told me he is okay. Truth was, he was suffering from colon cancer and she's afraid that I am unable to accept the fact that my father will be gone in another 3 months. I never knew about it until there was an abnormal growth on his belly that discharges a yellow liquid. He started fainting in the toilet often and fell unconscious during dinner. He had to take morphine syrup every three hours to bear the pain. I was still young and I did not know what was really going on, but I know that my father is terminally ill but little do I know that he was dying.

He was admitted to Hospital University Kuala Lumpur's ward, and we have been doing frequent visits and I could not concentrate for my UPSR final exam, we were in the ward every day and night looking after him as his frail body kept shrinking. There was literally no muscles left on his limbs that used to be lean and muscular as he plays badminton frequently back then. As time ticks, he could hardly even speak a word or have enough strength to blink his eyes. There was once, my mother broke down and cried after we left the ward. She could not imagine living a life without her soul-mate, nor how to take care of me and my sister with money running low for chemotherapy. My mom knew that he won't be able to fight the cancer much longer.

There were even times my family stayed overnight in the hospital, sleeping on wooden chairs and take shifts to take care of him. My elder sister would help clean him up while give him sips of water and wet his lips. Staying in the oncology ward, we also witness the passing of a patients in the ward and paid respect to them.

On one of the nights in the hospital, he was struggling to utter something, and he used up all his strength to scream out two words: "MUN LUNG..... MUN LUNG...". He was calling my Chinese name aloud, my mother and sister broke down in tears. I went to his bed and all he did was held my hand. Those were the last words that he said, they were my name. He have no energy left to speak but he was still alive. I felt guilty for hating him, I forgave him for what he have done to me in the past. He don't have to say more than that I believe, a touch of his hand tells me that I he loves me and forgives me as well. I can feel that sense of hope for me to grow up to be a better person. Two days later, on December 7th 2005; I was having my breakfast  near his bed. When my mother asked me to wipe his face, I saw the bloodshot on his left eye. I called the doctors for help, five minutes later they pronounced him dead. We broke down and couldn't control our tears. My father's colleague came soon after to give condolences and pay respect to my family . He pulled me to the side and talked to me and this is what he said.

"Boy, do you know how much your dad loves you? He is worried at work thinking about you most of the time, he is worried that you will grow up to be despised by the public since you are so afraid of talking. He wants you to do well in school; he does not have much time to spend with you since he is busy with work. You are the only son, the man of the house from now. You have to bear the responsibilities of a man as you carry your father's name and promise me that you will not let him down."

I promised him that.

Ever since then, I start to change for the better. I struggled my way to discover more about myself by experimenting with baby steps like talking to strangers, and slowly taking courageous steps like participating

in public speaking, which led to reciting poems, singing on stage, taking up leadership roles  and won several awards. Slowly I start to shape myself and discover my talents. It was as if I am a phoenix who died and resurrected from the ashes. The most important thing that I have gain is confidence. If it wasn't for my father, I don't think I will be able to get this far. Seems like he's my hero after all, an antihero who inspires me to be a better man, a better father to my children in the future.It's funny, I've even wrote a poem about him. It's called Chemotherapy, and it's dedicated to him on last year's Father's Day. I have to thank him for shaping me to what I am today. 

The solemn dawn arise

He waits with woes, stiff and silent on the bed

Thoughts swirled hours upon his head

Thinking of words he should have said

Too late it was, that warmth starts to fade

The pendulum sways through the filaments of time

Taking away what was once mine

Thinking if God was actually blind

With eyes wide open, Nirvana he seeks

While the weary widow and his heir weeps

As they watch how fragile skin turns to stone

At the final war, he fought alone

Comes the shadow slowly creeps

Months of chemo only added few beats

Only to realize, he will bow in defeat

Silence was the loudest whisper echoing

Funny when you’re gone, people start listening

Tears start to flood into their blood

Trying to cleanse regret with mud

Exhales their grieves across the room

Filling the thin air with gloom

Six feet under the body is sealed

So many wishes of the soul unfulfilled

Yet, none made it to the will

Not priceless inherited jewels

But words to heal.