Lust, Caution - Censored

As I've mentioned recently, I was drafting two letters of protests over the weekend. One of them was about the screening of the censored version of Lust, Caution at our local cinemas.

Some of you may be familiar with director Ang Lee -- most famous these days for Brokeback Mountain (Lee also did Sense and Sensibility, starring Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet -- as well as the Hulk movie with Eric Bana. What do Austen and Hulk have in common? You tell me). His most recent project is the cinematical adaptation of Eileen Chang's Lust, Caution. Ang Lee released two versions of the film -- the original version runs for 157 minutes, the other is an edited version that he did especially for the China market, which is 148 minutes long.

The local film distributor has only procured the edited China edition for our local cinema . It was a commercial decision as it will allow a NC-16 rating (No Children under 16) for the film -- which means it caters to a wider customer base -- the 16-20 year old market. However, this means they cut out crucial sexual scenes that show the evolution of the characters, their motivations. In short, the edited version is watered-down for an immature masses.

Cost-wise it does not benefit them to bring in both the Uncut and the Edited versions -- why pay for two versions of the same film, and incur extra operational costs by screening them in separate cinemas? From a business angle, I can see the rational behind their decision. But as a consumer, I'm unhappy.

I am boycotting the edited version of Lust, Caution -- a film I have been looking forward to for months. Recently a friend has inspired me to do something more proactive with my dissatisfaction. A boycott doesn't make as much an impact unless they know realise their business decisions are alienating their customers -- and there are commercial repercussions to bad choices.

So, I find myself writing a letter to the General Manager of the film distributor. I have explained to him the reasons behind my boycott of the edited version, and how I will continue to actively encourage my friends, family and colleagues to do the same.

As I was emailing a colleague about writing in to protest the censored Lust, Caution, she replied that she was just asked to sign a petition appealing for UN intervention in Burma. She remarked how it suddenly throws our boycott of a film into perspective -- how trivial a protest on film censorship seems compared to the Burmese monks with their protest against a corrupt military government.

She's absolutely right. The world is greater than our personal slights and discomfort -- but we have to start somewhere. We start first, with the little things that matters. Then we learn, we grow stronger, and we start to stand up for the bigger things that matter.

At least I hope so.

Screwed Up Weekend

My brain is overworked this weekend. I had two protest letters to write -- as usual, these letters are my rants to certain organisations about corporate policies and business decisions that are unfair and undermines the intelligence of the consumer (ie. Me) :p

On the upside, I've finished reading two books this weekend. The Razor's Edge and The Mistress's Daughter -- both interesting reads that deserve better written posts than my mediocre writing ability can muster.

Another upside on the yoga front -- I was a little unsure of the direction of my practice initially, after the the recent departure of my Anusara teacher. But I dropped by the class for a new teacher this evening, a lady who had studied with John Friend. I think I should be able to continue with the Anusara practice for a while longer.

Oh, downside of this weekend is that the Bookmooch administrator has suspended my account. So I can't mooch anything with my 34 mooch points. Apparently my policy of not sending books to people who are not willing to do the same has ruffled some feathers. I believe a complaint was made against me, and I was accused of discrimination. I prefer to think I was being fair.

The reason given to me is that US no longer offers surface mail, while other countries still do -- hence it is not right to be prejudice against people who don't want t send books overseas. I am offended -- does the Bookmooch administrators assume it is cheaper for me, here in Asia, to send books to USA?

So it is unfair to refuse to send to moochers who only send within their country. Okay, fine, I can understand why people would choose not to send books overseas. It is expensive. However, how can they in return demand that I pay for the hefty postage that they are not willing to undertake? It is their right not to send books overseas -- just as it is my right to refuse to pay the hefty postage to them.

The majority of the English language books on Bookmooch seem to be from North American members. So for someone living in North America, you have access to a very wide inventory without having to send books overseas. However, for Asian members like myself, we depend a lot more on overseas members.

I have tried to be civil and honest in all my rejections, but obviously there are people who feel unhappy about my preference. I still don't get it -- just don't mooch from me! What's the big deal?

I have amended my profile as the administrator has requested -- but it has been more than 24 hours and they have not reinstated my account. Whether they lift my suspension or not, I'm done with Bookmooch. Just need to decide what to do with the 34 points that I have earned -- by sending books overseas -- but can't use.

WTF.

PS: Of course my experience is somewhat unique, because of my idiosyncratic preference -- a very adamant preference. Things would be easier and better if I had been less self-righteous (I am capable of self-awareness) and obstinate -- but I wouldn't be me then. Bookmooch is a good place for book exchanges, except like all system it has its inherent flaws and inequities. But I still remember how total strangers on Bookmooch offered advice and "walk-through" when I first came on-board. It's a good place, with lots of nice people -- and some people who are too eager to feel injured. Maybe I'm one of the latter. :)

Update: Whoopee? My Bookmooch account has been reinstated. I'm now busily emailing moochers if they are willing to send their books to me. I think it's only nice to email first before mooching. I have 34 points to finish up before I quit Bookmooch. Suddenly, I find there's not enough titles to mooch. Hmm.

Inspiring Awe - Tilda Swinton

The Times interviews Tilda Swinton.

Amidst the ocean of Hollywood banality the likes of Lindsay Lohan, there are still some interesting actresses who are talented, self-possessed and who take on roles for no reason other than the artistry of their craft. Among these women stands Tilda Swinton, who can make an in-take of a breath interesting.

She has played the adrogynous Orlando, the romantic lead against Ewan McGregor in Young Adam, the White Witch in Narnia -- she defied labels, boundaries -- male, female, frigid, erotic, cruel and kind -- she is all of it at different times; she is dauntless, intense and alien -- and so beautifully compelling because we do not understand her.

No offense to Keanu Reeves fans -- but Tilda Swinton's charismatic turn as the archangel Gabriel was the only reason I watched that Hollywood hack-job on Hellblazer -- the film otherwise known as Constantine. Snobbish, heartless and totally psycho, Swinton as Gabriel bursted on scene in white tights and bandages -- wings a-flying. I loved how she pinned Keanu Reeves down with her single bare foot, gloating, rhapsodizing about her grand plan to bring terror, to bring awe back into the world -- just so that we humans could learn to honour God once more.

*sigh*

FILM | Jodie Foster, The Brave One II

In a previous post, I mentioned how much I was looking forward to watching The Brave One -- the film directed by Neil Jordan and stars Jodie Foster with Terrence Howard.

A quick recap: Jodie Foster plays a New York radio-show host, Erica Bains, who is happily in love with her doctor fiance. Then one night both of them were brutally assaulted; her fiance died and Erica was left shattered emotionally. She buys a gun, and ends up a vigilante.

Terrence Howard plays a police detective whose path inevitably crossed Erica's. Both Howard and Foster gave great under-stated performance; their characters meet under horrific circumstances, and in the midst of the violence, the two connect in a real, palpable manner that felt so natural. It's nice to watch these two competent actors playing out their scenes with each other. Howard's Detective Mercer is relaxed, a little world-weary but he is holding up. He is the kind of policeman who would pursue a criminal for three years and not give up; you can see why Erica Bains would trust him -- she is just barely holding it together, and in the midst of the violence and the chaos -- Mercer is a rock.

Maybe it's just me -- in a film with so much shattering violence I look for the glimpses of compassion and humanity. My favourite part in the film is the unexpected kindness of Erica's neighbour -- an aloof, taciturn woman who never once called Erica by her name. Yet when Erica finds herself slowly disintegrating, it is this neighbour who notices, who reaches out -- and she ends up dressing Erica's injuries after a particularly severe beating.

This film is about violence and how it touches us all. Once we are marked we will never be the same again. What perhaps will save us are those very brief moments of human connection; it saves us, it redeems us.

No spoilers here -- but I didn't quite like the way the film ended -- I felt it was contrived and too convenient. In spite of its weakness, it is a good film.

Most of all for a Jodie Foster fan, it has her looking progressively hotter until her finally appearance in that edgy black leather jacket with sunglasses: She's swaggering, that animal skin she's wearing denotes her new status as hunter, that steely set on her face. In a lot of previous Foster movies her jaws are locked -- and I've made it a game to spot the throbbing veins at her neck. This is the first time I have seen Jodie Foster so self-possessed -- oh, to say the word: so butch.

It's sexy like hell.

And thanks to the kindness of a friend, I now have Jodie Foster posters to mount! Oh, I'm a happy puppy!

A Russian Is ...

"Only a German bases his self-assurance on an abstract idea: science, that is, the supposed knowledge of absolute truth. A Frenchman's self-assurance stems from his belief that he is mentally and physically irresistibly fascinating to both men and women. An Englishman's self-assurance is founded on his being a citizen of the best organized state in the world and on the fact that, as an Englishman, he always knows what to do, and that whatever he does as an Englishman is unquestionably correct. An Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself and others. A Russian is self-assured simply because he knows nothing and does not want to know anything, since he does not believe in the possibility of knowing anything fully."

~ excerpt from "War and Peace" by Tolstoy

I am definitely Russian.

We Don't Date Decent

I had a long chat with my friend, Boo, last night. It had been a while since we talked like this. Working together may mean you see each other more frequently -- but that does not necessarily mean you get more chance to talk. Tonight was one of those rare moments of heart-to-heart talks. It was nice.

Boo knew Aquarius -- my ex. She was around when things soured between Aquarius and myself, and a lot of mistakes were made -- most of it on my part. I found out later that Aquarius had shown my letters of apologies and phone messages to our mutual friends, mocking and humiliating me in the process. It was painful to learn that someone you love would betray you like this -- that love turned rancid was so cruel.

Part of the bitterness of it all was that I knew enough sordid details about Aquarius to retaliate -- but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. Knowing you could only resign yourself to being humilitated because you do not have the steel to ruin the other person as well.

Boo told me that it was what made me a good person: Because I really believe that just because we have the power to hurt someone, does not give us a right to do so.

I met Aquarius through a mutual friend, Han. When Aquarius and I first started dating, I asked Han how she felt about me dating her friend; she seemed cool about it. In fact, she told me, of all the people Aquarius has ever dated, I am the first decent one. "Decent" was how Han described me.

I know something about myself, and that is my innate decency. No matter how badly I behaved, how stressful the situation, I had never been intentionally cruel. So often, in the heat of an argument I had the perfect knife-in-the-heart rebuttal -- and I left it unspoken because it felt -- cruel.

I think I learned this little emotional restraint -- this compassion -- from my mother. When I was younger I used to resent myself for this emotional handicap. I resented my mother too, for her inability to avenge herself. I did not want to be bullied like my mother. I wanted to be someone who stands up for herself.

I am older now, and I have come to appreciate my mother's virtues more. Maybe fighting back and winning is not always the most important thing in the world. Compassion and forgiveness -- even just simple decency -- they are the quiet kind of strengths.

But as I told Boo last night: we claim to appreciate decency, but we don't date decent. Our hearts yearn for the bad boys and the bad girls who are exciting, flamboyant and complicated -- the ones that will eventually trample all over our hearts with steel-toed shoes. Decent is boring.

But I have had enough mindfucks and excitement for this lifetime. I want boring. I want decent.

Which War and Peace to Buy?

The new Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky translation of War and Peace is coming out soon. The crucial question is which edition to buy? When the content is the same, it becomes a question of aesthetics -- how prettily it will sit on your bookshelf. (Yes, I am shallow in my own way.)

Should I buy the US edition , with that sentimental baby blue?

Or should I buy the UK edition, with its more sombre grey and red script?

Decisions, decisions.

Closing on Non-Fiction Five Challenge 2007

May - September
5 Books/5 Months

Okay, the last-ditch effort paid off. I proudly declare that through swapping of titles and furious reading, I finished 5 non-fiction titles for this challenge. Yay!

Big thanks to Joy at Thoughts of Joy for hosting this challenge.

My write-up on the final book, Ten Thousand Miles Without A Cloud is forthcoming. There's a lot to say, and it will take a lot of good editing to make anything I write about it interesting and readable.

Original Reading List:

1. Ultramarathon Man by Dean Karnazes
2. This Cold Heaven: Seven Seasons in Greenland by Gretel Ehrlich
3. Freedom from Fear by Aung San Suu Kyi
4. Ten Thousand Miles Without A Cloud by Sun Shuyun
5. River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West by Rebecca Solnit

Completed Reading List:

1. Ultramarathon Man by Dean Karnazes
2. This Cold Heaven: Seven Seasons in Greenland by Gretel Ehrlich
3. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
4. Yoga Beyond Belief by Ganga White
5. Ten Thousand Miles Without A Cloud by Sun Shuyun

Ex Libris Hosts Russian Reading Challenge 2008

In 2008, Ex Libris will be hosting a 12 month reading challenge of all things Russian - novels, short stories, biographies, history, poetry - by Russian authors or by authors about Russia.

Challenge begins January 1, 2008 and ends December 31st, 2008.

From the host:

This challenge has a lot of flexibility. Although it runs for 12 months (beginning January 1, 2008 and ending December 31, 2008), participants are only required to read 4 books. These books can be fiction (novels, short stories), non-fiction (history, biographies, etc.), or poetry. I felt that many Russian novels are of considerable length, so this allows participants to take more than 1 month to read a book if they wish. Or if you are overwhelmed with challenges, then this allows you to participate without adding too much of a burden.

I just matter to be drawing up my personal reading challenge for A Year of Russian Readings 2008. Since the two coincide, I thought it would be nice to sign up. Always encouraging to have someone reading with you, isn't it? Reading list to follow -- closer to the date.

If you're interested, please either email her, or leave a comment here or on the Russian Reading Challenge blog.

Warehouse Haul

It's Saturday -- so guess what I did? I bought books.

There was a warehouse sale -- by invitation only. Fifty percent off all books. Yes, 50% off all books.

My haul:

[Click to enlarge]

1. In Praise of Shadows Junichiro Tanizaki
2. The Cossacks Leo Tolstoy
3. The Hall of a Thousand Columns Tim Mackintosh-Smith
4. The Places In Between Rory Stewart
5. Passage to Juneau: A Sea & Its Meanings Jonathan Raban
6. Journey Without Maps Graham Greene
7. The Lawless Roads Graham Greene
8. The Temptation of Saint Anthony Gustave Flaubert
9. The Married Man Edmund White
10. The Collected Stories Grace Paley
11. Foreign Devils on the Silk Road Peter Hopkirk
12. The Great Game: On Secret Service in High Asia Peter Hopkirk

There was immense self-restraint -- considering the circumstances. Besides these, I was also looking for some Maugham novels, but they're out of stock. How can anyone be out of stock for Maugham?

Also picked up an uncorrected and INCOMPLETE bound proof copy of Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road. Yes, it's incomplete. But I suppose if I don't like the first 170 pages, I'm not going to continue reading the book anyway.

Continental Hotel In Ho Chi Minh

A friend of mine just came back from Ho Chi Minh city and she posted some pictures. One of them is this of the Continental Hotel:

"Built in 1880 and located along Dong Khoi Street, the hotel forms an integral part of the city's history. It counts, among its distinguished guests, the novelist Graham Greene, and the hotel features in his book The Quiet American"

By the association with Graham Greene's The Quiet American, my friend has just made the Continental Hotel in Ho Chi Minh a place I visit before I die!

A Funny Kind of Literary Lunch Interview

Rosie Blau interviews Jeanette Winterson for FT -- over lunch. With champagne.

Okay, I've read quite a few author interviews in my time. But it's not everyday that the interviewer discloses, at the end of the artcile, the entire contents of their lunch bill. And I'm kind of tickled that Jeanette Winterson asks Rosie Blau to write down her birth date and time, so that Winterson can do her horoscope chart.

These two women had fun doing their jobs.

Deadline for the Non Fiction Five Challenge

Where did the time go? The deadline for the Non-Fiction Five Challenge is approaching -- end of September, and I'm only one book away from completion. In the next few days I'll have to try to finish up Sun Shuyun's Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud or Aung San Suu Kyi's Freedom from Fear -- both books I have neglected from the Books In Progress pile. Too bad about Rebecca Solnit. Maybe later. Next year.

Over-commitment can be a bitch.

BOOKS | Library Haul

Swung by the library today and picked up some books. (Big surprise) I'm not keeping my Books In Progress pile in check -- obviously. But then I really seem to be reading more, when I'm reading more books all together. My haul for today:

The library finally brought in the Twilight Watch, the third book in the Night Watch series. In the mythos of the Russian Night Watch series, there is the Night Watch -- the ones who represent the Light, and then there is the Day Watch -- those who represent the Dark. Watching over the two factors, punishing them when either side defies the Treaty is the Twilight Watch -- the impartial Inquisitors. This is their tale.

New York City for Dummies. Okay, if the 2008 US Election goes well, I might consider visiting either New York or Hawaii next year (or in 2009). Nothing is confirmed, just looking at the travel guides. Say, anyone live in New York? Or Hawaii? Any recommendations for a vegetarian budget traveller who wants to visit either of these places for about 7~10 days?

One Foot in Laos. I really need to get down to reading it soon. Dad and I are supposed to go to Laos together but I've nothing planned. Haven't even broken into the Lonely Planet Laos guide yet.

A Time in Rome by Elizabeth Bowen. I was browsing the travel writing section when I stumbled upon this account of Bowen's sojourn in Rome between February and Easter. I am partial to Rome, or any Italian city in general, so I just picked it up.

I decided to expand my repertoire of authors for the Outmoded Authors Challenge, because all these bloggers reading and posting about Bowen -- they make me curious.

PS: Did anyone know that Elizabeth Bowen has a Myspace account? :)

BOOKS | Into the Wild

When I was reading Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild, it spurned some interesting comments from my colleagues. A few of my co-workers had read it. One of them was an outdoorsy type who had climbed Mt Kilmanjaro, and who had also read Into Thin Air, Krakauer's other more famous bestseller. He had to ask me why I was reading it -- because it's not the kind of book he associates with "a girl". That annoyed me a little. Excuse me while I go pick up something more gender-appropriate -- like Gossip Girl.

To idiotic remarks like these, I usually do a one-finger salute in my head.

But there is some gender-play going on in response to Into the Wild. I told some of the girls about Chris McCandless's dream of roughing it in the wild -- how he burned his cash, ditched his car, carried no phone, isolated himself in the Alaskan wilderness and lived off what he could forage or hunt -- and how he finally came to starvation and death.

Agnes's response was just to roll her eyes. With all the wisdom of someone who had to date men, she sighed, "Only a man would do something like that."

The girls laughed, because we get it. It sounds like such a stereotypical machoism that it's boring. We see how stunts like these are often a manifestation of egoism. It does what it wants to, without any regard for those left behind. Only a man would do something like that. No wonder we think women do not read this book.

But in spite of it all, I can see why Into the Wild became a bestseller. The story of Chris McCandless aka Alex Supertramp has this evergreen romantic wanderlust whiff to it. Part of the legend is that so little is really known about McCandless's motives. Everything is a re-construction from his journals, interviews with people who knew him. We guess at his motives, his feelings and his final days.

We loved this boy who went off into the wild and starved to death. We want to be able to do so ourselves, but without the suffering, without the death. Because he died, we get to mythologize him.

I admit while I was reading the story, it struck a chord in me: I recognize within myself the wanderlust, the restlessness, the feeling that things are meaningless unless you are willing to pit yourself against the odds. Krakauer summed up Chris McCandless more eloquently:

McCandless wasn't some feckless slacker, adrift and confused, racked by existential despair. To the contrary: His life hummed with meaning and purpose. But the meaning he wrested from existence lay beyond the comfortable path: McCandless distrusted the value of things that came easily. He demanded much of himself -- more, in the end, than he could deliver.

We're all trying to find some meaning in our lives. This book attempts to give some significance to McCandless's death, and his attempt to do what a lot of us only dreamed of doing. The restless romantic in me feels for Chris McCandless. I think he's a hero.

But I also find myself echoing the question by Chris's father -- who asked, how is it, "that a kid with so much compassion could cause his parents so much pain?"

BOOKS | Thoughts on Siddhartha

I believe it was Matt's reading list that reminded me of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha. Like many people, I first picked up the book when I was on my journey of spiritual enquiry. I can't say I am any wiser now than I was a few years ago -- I can only say this: I am slightly better read than I used to be.

I was surprised that the Siddhartha in the novel wasn't the Siddhartha -- the Gautama Buddha, as I had assumed. Hesse's book was about a seeker, a man born at around the same time as the Gautama Buddha, who went through different paths on his way to truth. He left home in spite of his father's objection and became an ascetic. With the beautiful courtesan Kamala, he explores the world of carnal pleasures, and he also became a successful merchant. Yet after many years, Siddhartha realises the emptiness inherent in the worldly experiences. So he left it all behind to become a ferryman. Then one day Kamala arrives with their son, and Siddhartha has to learn the final lesson of letting his son go.

In the introduction to the Shambhala edition of Siddhartha, Paul W. Morris wrote: "Hesse's grasp of Buddhist thinking was imprecise. He did not escape touches of theism and thoughts of sin, being the offspring, as he was, of two generations of Christian missionaries. Doctrinally, Siddhartha is not sharp, but sweetly and naively eclectic. But this hardly matters, for in Siddhartha, Hesse captured the truth of the spiritual journey."

When I first read Siddhartha, I had some problems with it. I felt it did not address the teachings of Buddhism, nor did it seem familiar with the foundations of Buddhist philosophy, such as the Four Noble Truths or the Noble Eightfold Path. It wasn't until I shed off the pre-existing assumptions and expectations that I managed to appreciate it more. Siddhartha should not be taken as a primer to Buddhist philosophy -- but as an allegorical novel of the spiritual quest, it has its beauty.

What I found most memorable in Siddhartha was Siddhartha's relationship with his son. He tried to lead his son on the path of enlightenment. However, the boy was brought up by his rich mother, and he was used to a life of luxury. The son resisted and resented the poverty and the humility of his father.

Vasudeva, his friend, tells him this:

"...Do you really believe you committed your follies so you could save your son from them? Can you protect your son from samsara? How could you? Through teaching, through prayer, through warnings? ... What father or teacher could have shielded him from living life himself, from soiling himself with life, from blaming himself, from drinking the bitter potion himself, from finding his way on his own? Do you, my friend, believe that perhaps someone could be spared having to tread this path? Perhaps your little son, because you love him, because you would so much like to spare him suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you were to die for him ten times over, you would not be able to subtract the tiniest fragment from his fate."

In this little tale lies the poignancy of the world: We do not change other people's lives just because of our good intentions. We are owners only of our own karma. It is futile, and perhaps even arrogant to believe we have a right to save someone from themselves. The road to knowledge, to repentance, to enlightenment -- is a personal one.

So often I thought if I love someone enough, if I tried hard enough, I could protect my friends from suffering through similar mistakes I had made before. I thought I could help them, perhaps even save them. I was misguided; we all have the right to make our own mistakes. Without the follies, no lessons could be learned.

A while back, one of my friend is going through a bad patch. A mutual friend asked if there is anything we can do?

Where we can, we try. But sometimes you know there is nothing you can do. That no matter how much you love your friends, you cannot live their lives for them.

My own parents tried so hard to protect their children from the world, that at the end they only delayed the sufferings.

Would You Like to Quit Smoking?

I found out on my dad's birthday that my Second Uncle ― my dad's second older brother ― was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. (How many stages of cancer are there?) My uncle's family had been keeping things quiet for a while now; they didn't want to alarm anyone. The doctors gave him 3-6 months.

My Second Uncle had been smoking for more than 40 years. He quitted smoking a few years ago, finally. But it was too late: Four decades of smoke caught up with him.

Some of my close friends are habitual smokers. When we hang out, they usually light up while we chat. I was a social smoker, but I never took to the habit. My last cigarette was six years ago.

With lung cancer so close to home, I find myself suddenly aversed to being around my friends when they light up. I was out with Boo last week, and when I told her about my uncle's lung cancer, I could see in her eyes how fast she was losing interest in the subject. It's like her mind just shifted to avoid looking at something uncomfortable.

Our mind is a great filter, and we often block out the messages that are uncomfortable or challenge who we are. Boo probably heard the anti-smoking cancer scare messages a million times over. (Afterall, the cancer warnings are printed on every cigarette packs. We learned to be desensitized to the messages.) You can just see how she switched into a defensive mode, while trying to remind sensitive to our friendship.

The usual defense: that we would die anyway, and if we were to be hit by a bus tomorrow, this cigarette wouldn't matter. Or, they intend to die young anyway, so it doesn't matter.

I did not press the issue any further. I have stated my preference not to have cigarette smoke around me, but they are not going to quit smoking because of me either. If we are to remain friends, we will have to compromise on this.

Often we are caught in the situations where we wish the best for our friends and family ― and we hope to persuade them to change. Maybe you want them to quit smoking, to exercise more, or to adopt a healthier diet. Or maybe you want your friend to quit a relationship that is obviously toxic and wearing down their self-respect.

But sometimes we err through misguided love. Often we believe, with the self-righteousness of our ego, that because we love them, we have a right to intervention. I believe in intervention when it is necessary ― I do believe in tough love. But tough love should only be used for extreme circumstances, like when a life is at stake, for example. At the end of the day, we have to respect the right to Free Will.

Often, we make the mistake of trying to force our choices onto someone else, justifying our actions with love. We fail to see how this is itself a form of violence. We are taking away their right to decide for themselves, because their choices are different from ours. Sometimes things seem so clear-cut ― our friends need to quit drugs, quit over-spending to help themselves. If they can't help themselves then we must intervene. But where do you draw the line: do we have the right to pick who they date, who they marry? Are we willing to relinquish that kind of control of our own lives?

Ultimately, we have to realise everyone has the right to their own karma, and things are not always as we want them to be. Yet paradoxically, we still need to strive for the best, trusting in karma to unfold on its own. I am still having trouble with this process of surrender and right effort.

Boo and my other smoker friends will quit smoking when they want to ― it is their choice to make. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to persuade them to quit though. Just that I need to do it from a place of understanding and respect, and not as a self-righteous yogi sticking it in their face.

Earlier this year, Agnes, one of my smoker friends, asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I thought about it for a while but I realise I didn't need anything.

"But is there anything I could get you anyway?" Agnes asked again. She seemed almost disappointed that she couldn't get me anything for my birthday; it was sweet.

Then I grinned, and I asked her, "Would you like to quit smoking for my birthday?" It was like a game we played. We both knew the answer, but I was asking anyway. Because I would gladly give up a lifetime of birthday gifts if Agnes would quit.

Agnes grinned back at me, and then she exclaimed, "I love you too, La!" She then scampered off.

What was wonderful about Agnes is that while she would never quit smoking because of me, she understood that I love her enough to wish for her to quit. That's why we're going to continue dancing this Cigarette-Tango. No matter how futile it seems, I'm still going to try to persuade them to quit.

108 Sun Salutations

Last week I signed up for the Global Mala Project at my yoga studio. Around the world, students of yoga are coming together to form a "mala around the earth." As part of my participation in the global offering, I signed up for 108 Sun Salutations.

I didn't think I had the strength for 108 Sun Salutations, and I knew my arms and shoulders are going to ache like crazy. But it seems so crazy I just wanted to try.

I did it. 108 Sun Salutations, even though towards the end I had to modify my Upward Dog to Cobra and my Chaturanga was getting sloppy.

I didn't really tell many people about signing up for the 108 Sun Salutations, because there was a thought at the back of my mind to back out. 108 Sun Salutations was intimidating -- but why was I afraid? Perhaps if I can't complete all 108, I was afraid I would be judged badly. Or perhaps I would judge myself badly for failing. showed up anyway, wearing my Nike outfit, because I really like the slogan to "Just Do It" -- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business."

For the final 27 Sun Salutations, the teacher told us to dedicate it to the Divine, to do it with a smile. And so towards the end, as I was stretching my arms upwards to salute the sun, I allowed myself to move into the most exuberant backbends, both as offering, and to receive. There is a lot in my life to be grateful for.

And I survived 108 Sun Salutations! Yay!

Namaste.

Not Sure What to Think

Oh, come on -- as if a poster like this will make anyone turn vegetarian?

B+ for Effort, but a little misguided. Amusing, though.

Two Books From Bookmooch

I've received my first two books from Bookmooch this week. So the circle is now complete: I give, and I have received.

I'm mindful of my Mooch points though. I don't want to squander them recklessly on books that I could just have easily borrowed from the library. Somebody has to pay the postage afterall. So far, I have resisted mooching the few Graham Greene and Somerset Maugham novels available. Resist, resist.

Instead, I've mooched Barry Lopez's Arctic Dreams and an out-of-print edition of Nicola Griffith's Slow River.

Arctic Dreams is part of my ongoing reading on literature of Ice and Cold. The description on Amazon UK calls it is "a book which could be compared to Chatwin's The Songlines for its combination of travelogue and poetic vision." I had my eye on the title for about two years. Finally, my own copy.

As for Slow River -- I hate to admit the kind of bone-headed narrow-mindedness at work here -- because the protagonist is lesbian, my local library refuses to stock it. Hence I had to resort to other means of acquisition. I'm convinced to pick this book up after this review here.

I just need to find the time to read them.