Finally, profoundly, I am work-life balanced

Serendipitously, I got introduced to the teachings of St Josemaria Escriva, the saint for everyday life. 

47 years ago, he spoke at a mass at Navarre University in Spain and told the congregation there:

"Consider for a moment the event I have just described. We are celebrating the holy Eucharist, the sacramental sacrifice of the Body and Blood of our Lord, that mystery of faith which binds together all the mysteries of Christianity. We are celebrating, therefore, the most sacred and transcendent act which we, men and women, with God's grace can carry out in this life: receiving the Body and Blood of our Lord is, in a certain sense, like loosening our ties with earth and time, so as to be already with God in heaven, where Christ himself will wipe the tears from our eyes and where there will be no more death, nor mourning, nor cries of distress, because the old world will have passed away.  

This profound and consoling truth, which theologians usually call the eschatological meaning of the Eucharist, could, however, be misunderstood. Indeed, this has happened whenever people have tried to present the Christian way of life as something exclusively spiritual — or better, spiritualistic something reserved for pure, extraordinary people who remain aloof from the contemptible things of this world, or at most tolerate them as something that the spirit just has to live alongside, while we are on this earth.  When people take this approach, churches become the setting par excellence of the Christian way of life. And being a Christian means going to church, taking part in sacred ceremonies, getting into an ecclesiastical mentality, in a special kind of world, considered the ante-chamber to heaven, while the ordinary world follows its own separate course. In this case, Christian teaching and the life of grace would pass by, brushing very lightly against the turbulent advance of human history but never coming into proper contact with it.  

On this October morning, as we prepare to enter upon the memorial of our Lord's Pasch, we flatly reject this deformed vision of Christianity. Reflect for a moment on the setting of our Eucharist, of our Act of Thanksgiving. We find ourselves in a unique temple; we might say that the nave is the University campus; the altarpiece, the University library; over there, the machinery for constructing new buildings; above us, the sky of Navarre...

Surely this confirms in your minds, in a tangible and unforgettable way, the fact that everyday life is the true setting for your lives as Christians. Your daily encounter with Christ takes place where your fellow men, your yearnings, your work and your affections are. It is in the midst of the most material things of the earth that we must sanctify ourselves, serving God and all mankind."

This really struck a chord in me. I too had bought into the notion, and therefore had felt guilty, about ignoring my spiritual calling as I focused on my work... Until the profound words I heard at mass today, which happens to be a feast day commemorating this saint.

Nowadays we hear so much about work-life balance, and often set one off against the other. It need not be so. It need not be so, indeed. 

- Photo from www.stjosemaria.org 

The Beautiful Game (III)

I recall a conversation I had with my father in law more than ten years ago. He had this instinctive feel for the lot of the man in the street and we had discussed if introducing material goods to the aboriginals in the jungles of Sumatra constituted progress. I was younger then and viewed progress narrowly, divorcing it from happiness. I believed then that if a society strived for economic progress, the rest follows. For wealth enables investments, and the right investments help lay the foundation for future progress. 

I believe it less now. So much so, I delivered a TED talk on it. Many societies have become wealthier but they will not become happier if they have not invested their wealth wisely. This is true at both national and family levels. Hence, the truism that wealth does not pass three generations. For hidden beneath the trappings of wealth are seeds of poverty. Wealthy kids get less hungry. Less hunger means they strive less and others overtake them and they eventually lose it.

This duality is evident in everything. In fact, without this dual nature, life wouldn't be what it is. Light is the opposite of dark. Without one, the other has no meaning. And so it is with football, and in particular this World Cup. On so many counts, this is one of the best in memory. Champions are knocked out. Star players are performing. But as all things in life, such defeats or victories become so much more significant in light of the duality of nature: beating Spain, Italy or England becomes monumental because these were former champions. Similarly losing becomes all the more bitter because there has been an injustice or two, be it Dzeko's disallowed goal or a soft penalty award.

More dramatically, this duality can sometimes manifest itself in the same team, even the same person. Consider the case of Luis Suarez, who made the difference in knocking out England. A match later, as his team was on the verge of being kicked out themselves, he resorted to biting the Italian defender who had been keeping tightly constrained for most of the match. This is football. It's more than just a game. It's a real life drama, exhibiting all the good and evil simultaneously. 

Photo credit: montage from telegraph.co.uk

The Beautiful Game (II)

We all know why it's such a popular game. It's rules are simple. Anyone and any number of people can play, on just about any surface in any area. All you need is a round ball. In other words, everyone can be a footballer. But why is it beautiful? I checked (on where else but the encyclopedia of the 21st century, Wikipedia) and learned that In 1977, the famous footballer Pelé named his autobiography My Life and the Beautiful Game. The book's dedication reads "I dedicate this book to all the people who have made this great game the Beautiful Game." The phrase has now entered the language as a colourful description for football and as such was used as part of the title for the 13-part series charting the history of the game: History of Football: The Beautiful Game.

For me, though, the game is beautiful not just for its simplicity and hence ubiquity but in 90 (and sometimes more) minutes, a match is played where victory is decided by very much the same principles that enable winning in real life. So taken was I by its applicability that I even wrote an article on lessons from it for The Edge, the local business weekly two years ago, specifically speaking on Andrea Pirlo's sublime penalty.

Rohit Brijnath had similarly cast the spotlight on this so eloquently, as usual:

"Sport, like life, is refreshed by beginnings, but for that there must be endings.

There is a wonder to the assembling of the jigsaw puzzle of a champion - idea, nerve, practice - yet a different beauty as it disassembles, as those parts corrode and he struggles to hold them together. In sport, before you go bad, you go slow. Yet every fading athlete tries. So did Spain. They tried pride, they tried Diego Costa again - who fits in this team like a bouncer in a ballet troupe - they tried the new, Koke, and the old, Torres. Nothing worked. Not the parts, not the whole. In winning two European titles and a World Cup, they lost one match, now already two. In those 19 matches, they let in a total of six goals. Now in two matches it was seven.

Winning, as Iniesta once told Lowe, takes suffering and perhaps they'd had enough. The elegance of their precision always obscured the sweat of their endeavour. Now a swarming Chile - once colonised by Spain - provided both a lesson in football and in history.

Football without the duet of Xavi, 34, and Iniesta (30, and still a force) will be less musical. In an infantile football world, they were grown-ups. In a game of cheap gamesmanship, they stood above. In a sport of loud egos, they exemplified dignity. In an activity littered with silly off-field headlines, they made none. In a planet consumed by how your hair looks, their style came from their feet. They played football, not games.

For an Asian, they fascinated, for many sports have grown out of our reach. Tennis is ruled by a top five averaging 186cm. In football, a study in 2011 noted that the average height of a player in Europe was 181.96cm. Yet there were these two, both 170cm and all midget mayhem, proving that mind beats muscle and providing this reassurance to the physically disadvantaged: There is no single route to greatness, you just have to find your own. It is why in tennis we cheer for the 178cm Kei Nishikori.

Some tired of Spain's obsession with pass and possession and of wins by squeaky margins (their last four wins at the 2010 World Cup were 1-0). But for me such greatness rarely goes stale, for Xavi, Iniesta, Barcelona, Spain, made football's fraternity think.

Passing, space, time, feel - none of this is new to sport, yet they made a generation look at these ideas again in a sophisticated way.It is why "era" doesn't fit them and we must look within art for a word for them: They were a school, a movement, a period.

It is enough to leave behind. Now Xavi may find a new sun in Qatar and Iniesta a new partner in Spain. Always, even for them, there are new beginnings. Tomorrow we will return to Brazil, to the Netherlands, but as Spain exit, they linger in the mind.

As a poet wrote, "Love is so short, forgetting is so long". The lines were written by Neruda. It just so happens he is Chilean."

To me, football, like life, can indeed be played and won by anyone. As Rohit pointed out, you just need to find the gameplan that suits you: that plays to your strength, that mitigates your shortcomings (no pun intended). But that gameplan cannot last. Your competition wises up and learn how to play against your style. What was once an advantage is no more, and in fact can be a disadvantage. Evolution and sometimes revolution is needed, where both the play book as well as the players must change.

Like Spain, England got booted out of the tournament having lost two matches. And the pundits decried their defensive frailties, but like his counterpart Del Bosque of Spain, I felt Hodgson relied for too long on his ageing stars and in fact both captains, for so long servants of the game for their country are responsible for the respective losses. The leader must know when change is required, up to and including changing his team, even the him/herself. 

Leadership is painful. G shared with me the sentiments of Pope Benedict who felt he could not muster the energy to bear the pain of tackling the problems, and leading a billion person institution. He sought divine guidance and was inspired to duly step down, so a new energetic leader can do so. It reminds me of Gary Neville, who while on million-pound contract, voluntarily retired early as he felt he could no longer play and contribute to his team, Manchester United. Closer home, one of my mentors, FH reinforced this notion as he moved on from one leadership role to another to enable a younger person to take over and lead the organisation in new ways.

Indeed, just as the second matches in the group stage are getting concluded, many of these lessons are already put into practice. Opponents adjust their tactics and the big boys all got caught out, or nearly so. Brazil got held to a scoreless draw by Mexico. Netherlands - so emphatic against Spain - nearly couldn't beat Australia (with Tim Cahill scoring a goal that would challenge Van Persie's as the best goal of the tournament), Germany - dominant against Portugal - was taken to task by Ghana. 

So the beautiful game is really a game of life; better than the board game of the same name that M enjoyed. It is so not only because everyone can play, not only because it's lessons are real for the game and in life, but also because it provides moments of drama, entertainment and ultimate joy (or pain). It is indeed the beautiful game!

The Beautiful Game (I)

The FIFA 2014 World Cup in Brazil kicked off just as we returned from our trip to Brazil et al. The opening matches in the 8 groups have been played. And already this is turning out to be a great tournament, even if the time difference (jet lag notwithstanding) is not conducive for watching any of the games live. So far, of the matches played, I've only caught three partially in real time, and only 1 in full. I did have the good fortune to catch all the turning points, though...

1. Neymar's highly deliberate elbow on Modric and then proceeding to score a virtuoso equaliser

2. How Drogba came on as a sub against Japan and changed the game just with his presence on the pitch

3. Messi's ability to produce a moment of magic for an otherwise lethargic Argentine side that produced the winner against a valiant if less talented Bosnian team

It's funny how sports mimic real life. There are moments in which the whole outcome can be changed. No one says it better than one of my favourite sports writer, Rohit Brijnath... 

"It is the 42nd minute. Spain are 1-0.

The pass comes to David Silva. His nickname is Merlin. But even wizards can miss a trick. He has only the goalkeeper to beat and as a moment it resembles the 2010 World Cup final, 63rd minute, no score, and Arjen Robben with only goalkeeper Iker Casillas to beat.

Then, Robben's shot hits Casillas' trailing right foot and bounces wide. Now, Silva's chip ricochets off Dutch goalkeeper Jasper Cillessen's flailing hands and goes out.

At the 44th minute: A cross from the left and Robin van Persie does what we prefer strikers to do: He dives, legitimately, in the penalty area to score a goal so splendid it makes hair and a planet stand. As Vincent van Gogh, another Dutch artist, once said: "What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"

It is 1-1. Two minutes, two chances, but only one goal.

Sophocles, the Greek writer of tragedies, once noted that "I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect". But in sport, retrospect, or a contemplation of the past, is fundamental.

Erik Spoelstra, the Miami Heat coach, led his team into the film room recently to watch a painful defeat. As critics we look back, too, sifting through games like sporting archaeologists, trying to identify moments when matches swung or empires teetered.

Perhaps for Spain it was here. In these two minutes.

Had Silva scored, it would be 2-0. For Spain, 2-0 could mean momentum and confidence. For the Dutch, 0-2 could be deflating and damaging. We don't know for sure. What we do know is that the threads on which victory hang are thin. Just one point. One putt. One chance.

In their prime, teams have an instinct for these chances and grasp them. Right then, when opportunity knocks and is smoothly taken, they're not certain of the cost of the missed chance. Till it happens. Till Silva misses.

This is the insanity of sport - how so much rests on so little. Roger Federer has two match points in the fifth set against Novak Djokovic in the 2011 US Open semi-final. A final beckons. One "lucky" Serbian forehand, one errant Swiss forehand, and the chance slips away. Federer never makes another US semi-final and only one more Grand Slam final.

At the 2009 PGA Championships, Tiger Woods leads after day three. In 14 Majors, he's never lost when at least sharing the lead on the final day. Now putts slip past, a chance dies and Woods hasn't won a Major since. He's nearly there but never quite, a margin as small but as significant as removing the first two letters from the word "invincible".

Sporting empires rarely end with neat, fond farewells; instead they drag on, searching for one more trophy, till they abruptly meet a moment of excruciating humiliation. Yet as much as we feel sympathy for Spain, this is the wonderful justice of sport: What you do to others will one day be done to you."

There is one other ingredient: hunger. Therefore, not so curiously, Spain who had many Real Madrid players (who had just won a record 10th Champions League title just weeks earlier) may have played with that little bit less hunger. Indeed the same goes for Madrid players in other teams: Marcello who scored an own goal for Brazil (their first in history of these finals) and Ronaldo (more about him later).

So, in life, as in sport, circumstances lead us up to a pivotal moment and just as Silva failed to put Spain the world champions 2-0 up, Netherlands's captain, Robin van Persie, scored the best goal of these opening group matches, and probably the best goal of this World Cup. A diving header to meet a lob from the middle of the field. It's so sublime that it's got christened with its own moniker, 'perseing'. The goal put Netherlands on equal terms and more critically the beauty of it injected so much confidence in the team that they were invincible hence.

Invincibility is less on show elsewhere (save maybe for Germany whom I saw, in full, trounce a CR-led Portugal 4-0), but virtuouso performances certainly were. The stars (except Ronaldo and Rooney, sigh) have all lived up to expectations. In fact, it is the stars that have individually changed the outcomes of the games they played. And when the stars don't show, sometimes the entire team can't perform. I submit to you exhibit A: The England team who just lost their opening match. Rooney was largely absent and though the team did try their best, Italy won, through a Balotelli (why always him? :-) header. 

Like many here in Malaysia and Singapore, our allegiance in these global tournaments are somewhat pledged to England... No, not because they were our colonial masters, but more because when many of us were growing up, besides Malaysia Cup, the Road to Wembley telecast were the only live football matches we could watch. That's how I first fell in love with Manchester United and that's why I feel for the United players (past and present) when they lose. But supporting  Portugal and England must be foolhardy choices. 

As Marc Lim, The Straits Times Sports Editor pointed out, "supporting the England football team is like being married to a lousy spouse. You know there are better options out there. You hope and expect the best. But you know you will just end up being constantly disappointed.Worse, you find yourself starting to make excuses for them."

Thankfully, so far this has been a great World Cup and I certainly am enjoying it and won't need to be making excuses for anyone! As a neutral football fan, I am just enthralled by what is promising to be one of the best tournaments in recent times. (And I sure hoped there will be no commentator jnx here!)

GOAL! GOAL! GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLL!

(Photo by Jeff Gross / Getty Images)

Finally home

We've been away nearly a month and even after we've landed back in Singapore during the week, something was missing. Well, three things to be precise.

1. Firstly, we haven't had local food for awhile (despite the best efforts of chef Tanta in Lima)

2. M was away with the grandparents in Malaysia

3. J was leading his scouts in their annual camp

So, in a way, we're back but only a quarter of the way so. We started first with tucking into local fare... beginning with a hearty double breakfast (of chai tow kuay + roti prata) in Ang Mo Kio, followed by a coffee break with fantastic Kopi-O prepared by an executive who preferred to ply his trade in the hawker centre, then lunching at a famous Chicken Rice establishment in Balestier. Naturally, we also couldn't miss out on the kaya toast with soft boiled eggs! The mission continued with Laksa, Wan Tan Mee, Ngoh Hiang, cendol, rojak and durians (twice) in Malacca. All of that only got us to halfway home...

It got passed the half full mark only when we saw M, who had spent a couple of nights with her cousins and grandparents.

To complete the circle, we had to wait till Sunday morning, after we returned from Malacca, to see J. And we celebrated with an appropriate superheroes movie: the latest installment of the X-men franchise, Days of Future Past... Which is kind of appropriate as we met the start of the show in the flesh right about this time last year! The real star of this episode though is hugely talented Jennifer Lawrence, one of M's favourites, and the notion that one had to go back to the past to alter the future. It would indeed be decidedly better if one made the right decisions in the present so the past can remain the past. Another star of the show is the character Quicksilver (played so well in a devil-may-care way by Peter Evans) who could move faster than speeding bullets.

J must have wished he had this mutant's speed for he has been indeed trying to cram a lot into his teenage days. He lamented how busy he has been this June hols, and in fact how busy he has been the past few June hols. I hope he wouldn't have to wait 24 years to take his first sabbatical (unlike me). In fact, so driven was I that even when I switched jobs back in 1996 and then 1999, I didn't take any breaks in between. Now, as I look back now, the job changes preceded the births of both children. Looks like we were prepared to really make seminal (hmm, no pun intended!) changes then. I think it was Steve Jobs who famously said that you can only connect the dots in your life looking back. At the time it happened, it didn't feel like some grand masterplan. Yes, I did have a penchant of envisioning what lies ahead and then doing my best to alter my course towards it. Indeed, I am even prepared to take a step back to ultimately advance two forward and that was certainly the case when I switched jobs (both times). But to do so, while switching locales and having kids, now look really courageous and truly inspired. Talk about days of future past! All said, I know there is only one way all of this could be achieved. And it's because I have D. 

Now, we are home. 

Home Sweet Home

After 3 weeks circumnavigating the earth, we're back home. We did it in a quarter of the time Jules Verne had fictionally imagined. Hopefully with just as much experiences gained. But for all the adventures, we are happy to be back home; though curiously to an empty nest as one child out camping with his troop and the other is with her cousins in Malaysia. We've got the dogs though :)

They are all growing up, fast. J, for the past 5 years and especially the last 3 as he took up leadership of his school scout troop, has hardly anytime, even during the term breaks. M, being equally active, and in fact having just organized her first camp for her school softball teammates, is spending less time at home too. So, in a way, the last 3 weeks of being together without the kids is good training for us.

It's happening by circumstance rather than choice: this letting go, letting them fly free, and we are safe in the knowledge we have done our best to arm them with the right values to chart their own course. It's as Kahlil Gibran says... "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They came through you but not from you and though they are with you yet they belong not to you". At first glance, esp to those of us that subscribe to Confuscian teachings, it seemed so counter intuitive but these words from over 2 centuries ago contain much wisdom, comprehensible only through the years.

Indeed, at work leadership needs to follow the same pattern. Beyond the care, encouragement and enablement, one's mentees have to be released to make their own decisions, even their own mistakes so they can grow more. They can always come back home, but sometimes home must know when not to take them back so they can build their own house(s).

Back in the domestic scene, though, we always have our happy house to come back to, with all it's familiar trappings. The TV is now playing some sitcom on StarWorld. So there is a background sound already streaming through the house, providing the muzak to reports from our maid on the goings-on the past weeks. In other words, normal service is resumed as we settle back home.

We've got to now get 3 weeks worth of stuff out of our bags. And we have quite a bit of unpacking to do. I should give credit where it's due. D does the unpacking, just as efficiently and amazingly as she packs. 

We left Singapore 21 days ago with two cabin trolleys and a camera bag and handbag. We landed today with three trolley bags, and 7 carry-ons. Without her skills in squeezing lots of stuff into small packages (hmm, makes sense no given her petite yet loaded capacity :), we would probably have ended up with yet another checked in bag.

It's a relief to see these well travelled bags traveling down the carousel upon arrival. Thank God SQ is excellent as usual, unlike Virgin America which we will avoid in future. One of our bags were heavy as we flew from Miami to LA and they charged us for it. They could have simply waived the overweight limit per bag, when we were clearly within the weight range overall. The difference may seem trivial but it's things like this that set great companies apart.

The really important thing though is we're home, or are in the process of coming home. We would be truly home when see the kids. Right now, we're physically here, unpacked the bags and enjoying local hawker fare once again!

Man made perfection

Here we are in Shinjuku Gyoen garden. A beautifully landscaped man-made green space in the middle of Tokyo. 

We already know the Japanese to be really proper people, taking pride in everything they do, and boy does it show, especially here where not a blade of grass is out of place.

Yesterday we wandered into the nearby Shinjuku Chuo park, which as we now realize, the difference in nomenclature is because a park is less manicured than a garden... But even so, it is no less pretty.  Sadly, we saw some homeless folks who made the grounds their abode, if temporarily so. Nonetheless, as they camped out there, even they looked prim and proper with neat trolleys and well folded blankets and tents. 

In fact, everything in this society is orderly. My meeting today took place on the western outskirts of the city. The low rise houses were welcome change from the skyscrapers we have been seeing all over Shinjuku and Ginza. 

There is a nice old world charm here but one trait is clearly still in evident. The residents are as proud of this little town as they are of the city and everything here is kept in a state of high order where streets are clean and the people shuffle about quietly, stoically.

It's a remarkable country. Maybe it's the fact they live constantly in a state of emergency (the big earthquake is always 30 years away) or that the homogenous population just highlights the sense of belonging, or the history of being a samurai society. Whatever the cause, the result is clear. It's weird and wonderful simultaneously!