On Borrowed Time

We live on borrowed time. Each and every one of us. We borrowed constantly from a perceived future of health and wealth. We take risks, we choose to eat a bit unhealthy, play a bit harder, work a little harder, skip a meal here and there, sleep a little less, skip exercise, dove into our own world and forgetting others all the meantime thinking to ourselves, "oh well, there will be time later to catch up, rest up, heal up." 

The problem is that we never quite know how much of the future we can borrow against. It is a dangerous game then, taking out a huge loan, especially if along the way we don't develop the habit to save up. Save up on energy, save up on health, save up on wealth, save up on memories with people closest to you. 

It becomes a gamble, and trust me, there are some IOUs that you don't want to regret having, especially if it is a bit of quality time with loved ones. There are debts we simply can't afford. 

So it is that I ask of you in this Christmas season, when the urge to borrow and spend is great, be mindful of what you spend on and invest. Spend a bit more time with people you care about, and who cares for you deeply. Don't expect that they will always be there. Invest on cultivating love, don't assume it will remain patient and present. Say the words that people need to hear, do the things that will make a difference however small. Invest a bit more in taking care of yourself that you don't take too much of your future from yourself or deprive others of you by wasting it all today some way or the other. Do it right so you don't need to take a new lease on life, for the loan office of life is fickle.

Bewilder

If I were to characterize American politics in 2017 with an emotion, it would be one of bewilderment.  The experience is akin to watching someone you love, a favourite grand uncle perhaps, succumbing to dementia and giving into paranoia.  The once benevolent figure with a sweet countenance has now become a mad individual.

Normally we would find help, or commit them to a place that can accord the necessary care. Yet, due to limited healthcare and insurance, and lack of support from other accountable figures (e.g. uncles and aunts) in the family, this "grand uncle" now lives with us, a middle-income family with little means. And every morning we find him standing on the front lawn in a nightshirt, underpants and combat boots, waving an automatic rifle,  spewing forth vitriol, demanding for a higher fence because he suspects our neighbours may be stealing our newspaper and milk.

Our neighbours shake their heads, the cops have been called, but to no avail.  To add injury to the wound, this rich grand uncle has sworn to leave us out of the will; instead, leaving all his inheritance to some rich cousins, business partners, and golfing buddies who have yet to lift a finger to help. He has multiple estates, but we are never allowed to set foot on them.  

Day in and day out, it has now become the norm. We live with this stress, not knowing quite what to expect, but realizing it will be embarrassing nonetheless.  The backyard is littered with cigarette butts, the once pristine walls of the house riddled with the chicken scratch of a man-child.  The market value of the house continues to deteriorate, and it feels as if nothing can be done to repair it. We are now the laughingstock of the town.  I am bewildered.

Light in dark times

Darkness has always existed. Often times it feels overwhelming, threatening to encompass everything.

Yet the curious thing about light is that it doesn't take much for it to shine, and the darker it gets the brighter the light becomes. Think about it, when we are lost and the night is at its darkest, that's when we can see the stars light years away shining at their brightest.

Sure, sometimes a light may flickered and be snuffed out, but given the right tools we can always light it back up. Likewise, we must not stop because evil in its various forms has reared its ugly head. Instead we must bring out our lights so that people will see from afar that the lights still glow in the windows of this house on a shining hill.

Thoughts on thoughts and prayers

Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers. It seems like we have been sending quite a few of those lately. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Thoughts and prayers are much needed and appreciated, especially in these times of trouble and sorrow. It is good mental exercise when done right. It requires of us to take a step back, to reflect, and perhaps recalibrate where needed. Yet, when all has been said and done, we ought to have more done than said.

Look, thinking and praying aren't meant to be easy. It entails much deliberation. We pray because we acknowledge right then and there we need a bit more guidance, that we surrender ourselves to a higher power. We may not have the right words, we may not know what to do, but we ask humbly that we may know of them.

A thought and prayer loses meaning when at the end of it you have not been able to identify at least one thing you could put into action. A prayer is not meant to relieve you of your burden or responsibility. When you say amen, you are not saying goodbye, end of discussion, it is out of my hands and therefore my conscience.  Instead, you are indicating agreement to an action plan of sorts, "so be it and lets make it so."

In light of all that has occur, beyond sending thoughts and prayers, we ought to examine how to actualize said thoughts and prayers. What is the course of action from having taken a step back and welcoming G-d's input. Too often we pray hard for an answer from G-d when the answer has always and simply been, "You, with my help."

So, beyond sending your thoughts and prayers, beyond asking what would Jesus do, ask, "what will you have me to do?"

Amen.

DACA

I have lived a significant part of my life ever conscious of the fact I am a foreigner in a strange land. As a Chinese growing up in a mostly "white" Canada, to being a "banana" in the midst of growing Chinese influence, and now being a Chinese Canadian in the US. Always navigating conflicting cultures and impulses. Always trying to blend in while being different.

What has made it bearable all these years is the wonderful support and love I have received from the immediate "village" I have found myself in. I have made fast friends, and I have brothers and sisters despite being born an only child. I have uncle's, aunts, mentors, and "parents" when my own were far way. I am forever grateful for that, and would like to pay it back and pay it forward someday. I hope I am doing a decent job at that. I am humbled, and I know I am loved, and it sustains me.

Yet the fact remains I am ever aware of the ephemeral nature of it all. That at any moment I may be deported and suddenly find myself homeless amongst the lands I have lived. So, tonight my heart is heavy for those affected by the administration's decision to rescind DACA. I can imagine what it like when all that you know, all that you have come to identify with, grow accustomed to is threatened to be taken away. 

What makes us Americans? What makes us Canadians? What makes us Chinese, Mexican, Argentinian etc? Is it a legal status, a passport? Do we need to truly carry a unique flag and wave it often; plant it on a soil and claim it? 

Or is it a shared reality, being willing to commit to a common cause, to one another through service, through learning to adapt, through opening our arms and embracing one another. I am a Canadian, a Chinese, and someone who has just spent the past 16 years learning to be an American. If I am this conflicted, how much more for a Dreamer? 

A part of me says don't write this, they are going to look at my social media during my application for citizenship, and they will see this and perhaps deny me. Yet, how can I remain silent when all that I have learned by being in America these past years is to speak up. Speak up for the underdog, for those without a voice. To make sure our neighbors are taken care of, when the poorest amongst us are provided for. How can I be silent when my instinct tells me I need to stand with my brothers and sisters regardless of their colour, creed, and orientation? 

If America has taught me anything it is that the USA values the gift of making others feel accepted, letting them know they belong. It is one of its greatest gift to the world, to say "all men are born equal" is to say we accept you as you are, you belong. 

As that famous poem goes, if I don't stand up now, who is left to stand for me when the time comes? We are all dreamers, here to pursue the American dream, and here I stand.

Solitude

It is hard to explain the tranquility of doing things alone.  To go wander about on a whim, to sit in the corner of a nice restaurant enjoying a good meal, to ponder without interruption. Ah, the liberty to be without question.

Sure, I enjoy company from time to time, I love to make others smile, to be there when they are in need of me.  I know the value of friendship, I relish the anticipation of sharing an experience with others, to sit by a bonfire and listen to stories. That's why I strive to pay extra attention and show appreciation for the little things in life, so that I may share them with others along the way.

Equally, I enjoy a cup of hot tea brewed to my liking, to be mercurial without fear of hurting others, to be quirky without being made to feel awkward.

I suppose society frowns upon the singular individual just as the wait staff worried about the fare for one person at a table for two.  I suppose people do worry for the lone individual, quietly tucked away.  I assure you, It is quite alright, I am alright.

I may not be euphoric, but I am happy. I know how to keep myself entertained just as I am confident in my ability to make you chuckle. I am an umbrella, I will be there when the time is right, be it sun or rain. I am a training bra, not fancy but supportive.  There is tranquility on my own. I am quite comfortable, so don't you fret.

The Other Side

Let me tell you about the other side.

Let me tell you about the black man who was threaten, beaten, and eventually lynched because he dared to exist with a different skin tone.

Let me tell you about the little girl who couldn't go to school because she was thought to be so dark her skin would smear the minds of those around her.

Let me tell you about the woman who was told she had to give up her seat, or the man who can't drink from the same fountain, or enter through the same door.

Let me tell you about the good Christian folks, quiet and very much frighten as men in hoods and cloaks march upon their lawns and planted a burning cross that has nothing to do with the teachings of Christ and Christianity.

Let me tell you about the millions of individuals whose brilliance and passion were snuffed out simply because they were of a different race.

Let me tell you about the women who were constantly mocked, jeered, belittled, and objectified.

Let me tell you of the many men and women who had to keep their love a secret, who had to live at odds with their bodies and their self-images simply because we have a finite tolerance of what is natural.

Let me tell you about the many people who lives in fear, who constantly worry that suddenly they will find themselves representing a whole race. Whose shade of skin made them anything but white.

Let me tell you about the other side who has to work twice as hard just to be given a fair shot.

Let me tell you about the other side who has been oppressed, whose ancestors have worn shackles, whose mothers couldn't vote, whose relatives were detained in internment camps.

Let me tell you about the other side, the side who has to go the extra length in order to be less threatening.

Oh there are many sides, but you tell me which side really has it bad all these years. Which side has sown the seed of terror, deny others their rights simply because they threaten a privilege. Which side has committed more heinous atrocities. Which side has a consistent record of dehumanizing and debasing based on concentration of melanin.

Oh there are many sides, and there are both sides. I told you about the other side. You tell me, which side of history do you want to be on.

Bubbles

As I grow older I began to realize that things may not be fine. Not always, and not for quite a few of us. For some, if not all, the bubble will burst and we find ourselves plummeting down a spiral that can be quite difficult to get out of. It is a scary thought, one that justly plagues each of us who are sentient.

Yet the triumph of our experiences is that we can overcome that fear and make the best of it. A bubble, however ephemeral, can be a source of joy and wonder. Just watch every kid who is enchanted by one That a bubble defies gravity and soars to new height is magnificent to behold.

So I guess our options are, knowing that bubbles can be bursted, do we make more of them or do we find that the formula that sustains them longer in the air? I think it is a bit of both.

Don't fret over whether things will be fine or not. Do what you can to make it fine now. Help others to be fine as best as can be given the circumstances. Help one and other to sustain that moment of levity.

Hope

Humanity is good, and at it's core perpetuated by hope. Hope that pushes a boy to ask a girl out or vice versa, hope that a child is worth bringing forth to this world, hope that they will be able to grow in an environment that loves them and nurture them, hope that motivates a parent or those involved in childcare to continue living their lives in ennobling endeavors such that their offspring may be better off, and hope that pays itself forward and to the generations to come.

Hope for the better, faith in the outcome, and love that motivates - these are the very things that make humanity endearing. They are also the very things that threatens the identity of those who are lost and lives in perpetual insecurity. Therefore we must continue to hope, to have faith, and to love incessantly if we truly want to eradicate this world of the hopeless, and the faithless - the very ingredients that constitute fear.

Sharing

Life is about sharing, it is about paying close attention to the things that goes on around you, take note of it and later get to say to someone, "gee, this is what happened to me today."  That's why being in love works, because when you are in love you are all about being alive and aware, always on the look out for cool things to share with that special someone.  Without sharing, we die a little inside, we gradually cease to exist, fading into wisp.

You don't have to be in love to share, it helps, but we can always share.  We can always swap stories and have meaningful conversations.  Life goes by fast, and if you don't start sharing experiences, pretty soon you have nothing to look back at and be nostalgic about.  It would be just a protracted sense of forlorn, like that feeling you get when you finished off a good [tv/book]series.  That's just too tragic for my taste, having no one to share to the point you refrain from experiencing life.

Small acts to greatness

 There may perhaps be a cosmic battle raging between good and evil. Yet victory is never quite clear cut on this transitory plane.

While we may despair at the circumstances, and wish for that "win", what we really need to focus on are the small triumphs of humanity.

All it takes are little acts of kindness, reaching out to one another, regardless of who we are and who "they" are. Do something nice unasked, be gentle, don't judge. Enough of those little acts will gain momentum and generate the potential for greater and better things down the road. That has always been the case.

Those of us who study molecular biology know this to be true, action potential from spatial and temporal summation. If it can happen at a molecular level, why not on a humanity scale. Who knows, we may just be those molecules that makes a difference on a cosmic level.

Maundy Thursday

What if Christianity got it wrong. Jesus was just a guy who got into a thorny situation, got hammered, and finally woke up from a three day hangover? I mean that would explain the high alcohol content in his blood.

But in all seriousness, as we enter these solemn times, from Maundy Thursday onwards, may we be reminded that Christ dealt with the same doubts that we do. That he knew he would be betrayed and denied. That he did pray and asked once for this cup to be taken him. That his disciples were equally lost.

Yet, through it all it gave us one of the most profound line to our prayer life - not of my will, but yours. The essence of all that we pray for, our life's purpose can be distilled to this one profound notion. That Christ in human form suffer as we do, yet by yielding to a higher will, we too can become free. Free of our own desires, our ego. Free from the fetters of this transitory plane, so that we can transcend all humanity. So that we can let go of the hurt immediate to our own person and be at peace with the way of things that ultimately will be better for all.

We can ask all we want, but until we are willing to surrender for a greater will, a will that is all knowing, all loving, our own will means little. We must will ourselves to abide to G-d's will...  And truly, how many of us can say we can?

Indispensable - Excerpt an article published in August 2014

There has been a lot of controversies recently regarding hearing aid manufacturers moving their products to chain stores, and hearing aid specialists increasing their scope of practice.  While the threats are very real and the cause of no small amount of angst to our profession, I personally believe we are perhaps drawn to the wrong kind of battle. 

If indeed our livelihood can be so easily manipulated, if the future of audiology is dependent on the selling of hearing aids, then I believe we have missed the point of becoming a doctoring profession.  A doctoring profession should not be built around a commodity that can be dispensed, but rather upon a skill set, a knowledge base that makes it indispensable.  At the core of our struggle for recognition, for the push to becoming a limited license practitioner should be the quest to what makes us indispensable.  This intellectual pursuit should be our focus.  If we cannot live up to this professional quality and rigour, then we should or may face elimination. 

Audiology is the study of the vestibule-cochlear system.   When push comes to shove, we are supposedly the owners of the vestibulocochlear nerve and its related structures and functions. If I may be so bold, I would even identify myself as a vestibulocochlearologist.  I am not a dispenser; I am a specialist, I am a scientist who brings the most informed treatment to my patients. We must own that.  We must make our knowledge sacred, and unique.  Leave it to the dispensers to dispense hearing aids, but make it our prerogative to be the unique specialists who carefully diagnose the full range of hearing problems before writing the prescription for when and how a hearing aid should be fitted. Let us be the researchers into better hearing aid technology.  Let us be the trailblazers in making better assistive listening devices, improving testing techniques, and increasing efficacy of treatment to hearing and balance related ailments.  

That should be our priority.  Not how much revenue will be lost because a hearing aid is being sold on the shelf, or by someone with less training.  Yes, we should be outraged that hearing aids are being dispensed without the involvement of an audiologist, but not because of the loss of revenue, but because of the potential detriment and reduced quality of treatment to the end user.  It has been said we justify, verify, and dignify our opponents simply by the act of choosing them [Spoiler alert: sort of like Lord Voldemort choosing Harry over Neville to be his ultimate arch enemy].   Be careful whom we choose to be our adversary. 

Ultimately, our biggest hindrance is not the physician, the hearing aid dispenser, or the hearing aid manufacturer.  It is each of us failing in our ability to become indispensable, to be innately necessary to the care and treatment of our patients. 

The time has come to rally around the standards that define Audiology Education.  Standards are beacons in the chaos of battle.  They lead the way and signal the changes in strategy.  So long as the standards are upheld, the morale of the army it leads hold strong and true - if the raising of the American flag on that tiny island of Iwo Jima is any indication.  The future of audiology lies in the recognition of a unique set of standards developed of, by and for audiologists; they are the essential undeniable elements of any campaign.  It may bring back childhood memories of playing “capture the Flag”, but there is nothing childish behind its significance.  That recognition in any of its form is truly about raising one’s flag and prevents others from stripping it.  Similarly, in our strive for independence, we must have a set of standards that is our own to defend, to lead, and to rally upon.  A set of standards that is indispensable.

Emperor's New Cloths

"I think it is safe to say at this point numerous individuals have stood up and said the obvious, that the king is indeed naked.  Yet, either because of the need for tolerance or the fear of retribution, the silent majority remains muted and nakedness is now the new normal.

We are confusing legality with morality, opinions with facts, privileges with rights, and power with justice.  Hypocrisy becomes mainstream, while certainty and fundamentalism set in. The lines are drawn, to separate people, to keep a selected few out, and a whole lot of them in with a label.

We seem to have forgotten that this was an experiment; one that relies on a certain amount of curiosity, and flexibility.  One that trusts in the best of us, while setting forth guidelines to keep in check for when the worst of us surfaces.  When we, as a society, failed to implement those checks and balances.  When we allow either side to run rampant, then this experiment has failed, because there is now only one reality where there was once a promise of many."

Saying Thank you and Sorry

There are two phrases that one must not be afraid to use; in fact I implore us all to use them often and with conviction. They are “thank you” and “I am sorry”. It’s not a Canadian thing, although I am proud to say Canadians have never been shy with declaring gratefulness or expressing their empathetic sorrow to undesirable circumstance.

I known have been ridiculed for using them often, presumably because in this day and age of mock bravado, they can be misconstrued as signs of weakness, an admission of vulnerability. Yet, nothing can be further from the truth.

Saying ” thank you” requires us to step back and appreciate the many little blessings of this life. It allows us to acknowledges the little graces that others have bestowed upon us however justly or undeserving. And truth to be told, often we are unworthy of the favors incurred but by the good graces of others, and thus we are and should be grateful.

Likewise, saying sorry does not solely imply an admission of guilt. In fact, it is often intended as an olive branch saying “I commiserate”. I am sorrowful towards the circumstances, but you are not alone. How human is that?

“Thank you” and “sorry” are excellent vehicles in validating those around us. Therefore, I implore us to be not stingy in our dispense of them, but rather be ready to embody the spirit behind and reach out to others when the situation calls for either.