i'm back

Oh wow, talk about time flying. I didn't realise that it's been six months since I last blogged.

I apologise for the long silence. All I can say is, it's been an eventful six months:

* I've lost six people who meant something in my life, and my heart is still healing from the losses.

* We had to bury Merlin, our beloved pet cat who was born with a congenital illness and died when he was only slightly over a year old.

* We've adopted two King Charles Cavalier-mix puppies who couldn't find a home.

Suffice to say that everyone in the household is still adjusting to the changes.


Racer (left) and Merlin ... two stray kittens of the same age, from different litters, came into our home and our hearts in September last year


Merlin was such a gentle, loving soul. He loved everybody, and everyone -- especially Toby (right) -- loved him right back. Merlin had the ability to defuse a volatile situation simply by going up to whichever cat was angry or stressed and cuddling up against them.


Best friends forever... Toby, Merlin and Racer.


Oh, how we miss our little angel. He was with us for such a short time, but the impact that this little sickly cat made on all our lives -- simply by showing us the power of love.

The biggest legacy that Merlin left us is this important lesson: It's not how long you live that makes the difference, but how you live that does.

We are so grateful that he chose to share his life and love with us.

And now Bronte and Boomer have come to teach us more about life and love.



Bronte (above) and her brother Boomer

pidgie's story

Yesterday afternoon, Brian came home from driving Jordan to his Chinese tuition class and announced that he'd seen a bird lying hurt on the road -- probably hit by a car -- and that he was going back out to see if he could save it. He left his car parked outside our home and walked back out to the road with a hand towel.

Fifteen minutes later, he carried the hurt bird back into the house.

When he had first caught sight of it while driving home, it was lying on the side of the road, too exhausted and hurt to fly. Brian had been unable to stop his car because of traffic, but he was afraid that it would be a matter of time before the bird moved and someone ended up driving over it.

Fortunately, in the five minutes that it took him to park the car at home, grab a towel and walk-run to to the spot where he'd seen it, the bird was still there. It was a pigeon.

It panicked when it saw Brian approaching and tried to fly across the road, but it was clearly exhausted and because its leg was hurt, it was unable to land on a tree. Eventually it simply plummeted down onto the middle of the road.

God must have been looking out for it, because that usually busy road happened to be clear of traffic, and Brian managed to dash onto the road and gently pick it up.

He wrapped it in the towel and brought it home. We were pretty certain its leg was hurt or broken, but to our untrained eye, the pigeon was still alert and its heart beat strongly. That was enough for us.

We decided to take it to the vet to see if he could do anything to help it.

But it was a Sunday, and our vet was closed. We drove to the next nearest animal clinic to see if it was, by any chance, open. Fortunately, they were. But they were closed for their lunch break and would only open again at 2pm.

As it was only a little past 1pm, we decided to drive home again and see if we could give the pigeon a little water. We had no idea how long the poor thing had been lying on the road before Brian had spotted it. And with the weather being so hot and humid lately, we were afraid it would be dehydrated.

So we got home, carried it into the kitchen and gently tried to feed it some water. It was thirsty, because it caught on to what we were trying to do pretty quickly, and drank some.

We filled a small little container with more water, just in case, and then we decided to drive to the clinic again. As we had no appointment, we thought it would be a good idea to get there before it opened so that we wouldn't have to wait too long to see the vet.

We waited outside for about 15 minutes before the vet opened. In the meantime, we stroked the pigeon, talked to it and watched to make sure it was okay. It seemed all right, and our hopes were high.

We finally got to see the vet. But the prognosis wasn't good. She checked and found that its leg wasn't broken, but that its thigh was traumatised. And she said that with birds, broken legs could easily be set but nothing could be done when their thighs were damaged or traumatised.

That area, apparently, has lots of nerves, and it is such a delicate network that operations are very difficult to perform. If we really wanted to, we could take it home and see if it would eventually heal on its own but she said the bird would not be able to return to the wild anyway because it would be unable to fend for itself.

In instances like this, she said, if we hadn't come along and picked it up, the bird would likely have died eventually. Even if we decided to take the chance and care for it at home, she said healing could take a few months and there was still no guarantee that it would survive.

Also, she said, the bird had gone into shock. She recommended euthanasia.

Knowing that what she said made sense did not make it easy. I wept then and there, and Brian had to take care of the paperwork needed to put down the pigeon. Because we had to register it as a pet, he christened it Pidgie.

Oh, how I wish things had turned out differently.

In that hour or so of non-stop activity trying to save Pidgie, we had all bonded -- as fellow creatures of God's kingdom, each with a soul.

We said goodbye to Pidgie, and sent her into God's care with love and light.

As we drove home, we talked about it. Much as we mourn having had to make the decision to end a life, we also have no regrets about all that we tried to do to save Pidgie.

Having seen a bird, or any animal or creature for that matter, lying hurt, we couldn't walk away from it without trying to see if anything could be done for it.

At least we'd tried. And I like to think that Pidgie knew that too.

God bless you, Pidgie. We're just glad you're not in pain any more, and are in the company of God and the angels.

here's to you, Dad

We laid my father-in-law to rest today, 13 days after he unexpectedly passed away in his sleep in the early hours of
May 4.

He and my mother-in-law were in Perth at the time, to celebrate the 80th birthday of one of Mum's brothers. They had been looking forward to the occasion because another brother -- whom she and her siblings had not seen in 50 years, had said he would fly to Perth for the birthday bash.

So almost three weeks ago, Brian drove them both to the airport and saw them off.

From all reports, as well as from the pictures that had been taken of the birthday bash and reunion, a good time was had by all.

Dad looked fine in the pictures. He tucked into his food and even enjoyed two glasses of beer at the birthday lunch on Saturday -- something he hadn't done in years.

The next day, he simply said he wasn't feeling too well, had a slow and easy day, and watched a game of cricket (his favourite sport) before going to bed. And just like that, he was gone.

He was 86.

Brian and I managed to reach Perth just before midnight that same day. But we didn't realise there would be so much red tape to sort through, and it took over a week before Dad could be repatriated to Singapore.

In the end, we held a special service in Perth last Sunday for relatives and friends there, and then we flew home to prepare for the funeral in Singapore. Dad only came home on Tuesday night, and then we had a three-day wake before the funeral and cremation yesterday.

Today, we collected his ashes and had them interred in the columbarium of St Mary Of The Angels, a church that Mum has been attending for years.

It has been a long and stressful two weeks for us all. But mingled with the sorrow of our loss is the joy that Dad went off in the best way possible -- in his sleep, without illness and suffering. Because he had not been ill, his face was still full and he simply looked as if he were sleeping.

But the lesson that I took away from this whole experience was the fact that one quiet, unassuming man could impact so many lives.

From the friends and relatives who came from various parts of Australia to attend the service in Perth to the colleagues, friends and relatives who came for the wake and the funeral in Singapore (some Aussie relatives who had attended the Perth service even flew to Singapore to be with the family in our time of grief), all showed in one way or other how much Dad meant to them.

I was awed, yet not surprised. My memories of my father-in-law are all good.

The first time we met, when Brian brought me home for his family's annual Christmas celebration over 25 years ago, I was in my early 20s and still very shy. Coming from a small family, I was overwhelmed by the size of the Miller clan. And when Brian left me on my own to help serve their guests, I was a little lost.

But Uncle must have noticed. He quietly came up to me and, with a twinkle in his eye, asked if he could top up my drink. He stayed to chat for a while before moving on. But those few minutes were enough to make me feel at ease.

That became the pattern of our relationship over the years. Whenever Brian brought me over for a visit, Uncle always asked if he could get me something from the bar, or if he could top up my drink. And he always spent some time chatting with me.

When Brian and I finally got married after seven years of courtship, I had grown so used to calling him Uncle that I found it hard to call him Dad. Until one day, some weeks after the wedding, we happened to be alone for a few minutes and he asked, "Why are you still calling me Uncle?"

In that instant, I realised he was actually hurt by that. All feelings of awkwardness fled then, and he has been Dad ever since.

In my near-20 years of marriage, I have grown to love Brian's family like my own. But I've always had a soft spot for Dad. Despite the stories I've heard of how stern and difficult he could also be, I have only seen his gentle, loving side and appreciated his quiet humour.

At the wake, there was an Indian gentleman who came with his family to mourn Dad's passing. He had been a peon in the office which Dad headed, and he never forgot that Dad had been the one who had given him the opportunity to do better.

It was decades ago, but even after Dad retired, the gentleman and his wife would visit every year at Christmas with gifts of delicious homecooked food for the family. Such was the loyalty Dad inspired, yet he never took such blessings for granted or as his due. Every time they visited, Dad welcomed them warmly and voiced his appreciation for the wonderful food.

There were many others who came to the wake and the funeral with stories and memories of their own.

As for me, I will always remember and love the kind, observant man with a twinkle in his eye who took the time and made the effort to make this shy and rather lost young woman feel at home so many, many years ago.

I may not have a drink in my hand now, but here's to Douglas Miller. My father ... in law and in spirit.

Till we meet again, Dad.


Douglas Miller
Dec 20, 1922 - May 4, 2009

mirror, mirror on the wall

It's been a while since I last blogged.

Not because nothing much has been happening in my life, but because so much has been happening that sometimes, I'm so busy trying to process the life lessons I'm undergoing that my mind goes blank when I sit down and try to put my thoughts and emotions into words.

There have been times when the constant energy shifts make me feel like a yo-yo -- flying high when I think I'm making progress in my soul purpose, and plummeting to the depths of grief and guilt when something or someone makes me angry or say, think or do something nasty and negative.

Nobody said it was easy.

But I take comfort in the fact that I am constantly reminded of God's unconditional love through the aid and guidance of loving angels and guides. And the people and animals who are sent to share my life and the path on which I'm on are also proof of this.

Even the people and situations that I sometimes wish would just disappear in a puff of smoke are in my life for a purpose: They hold up a mirror before me that reflects who and what I am, and what I can choose to be here and now.

That's a lot to learn and to think about. No wonder my mind sometimes goes blank.

:)

more rainbow healing!

Another rainbow appeared in our skies this evening, after yet another storm in the afternoon. This one was just as big as last week's; just not as vibrant visually.

But still, it was a beauty, and totally awesome.

I wasn't as fortunate as I had been last week. By the time I reached home, the sun had gone down and it was already getting dark ... so no rainbow.

But two kind colleagues, who had seen it from one of the windows in the office earlier, brought the rainbow to my attention. So as soon as I finished work just before 7, I dashed out of the office to catch a glimpse of it while waiting for Brian to pick me up.

Driving home all the way, in heavy traffic, I kept peering up the windscreen to try to catch sight of it.

Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps it was because of the smog, as Brian said. But it was a little more difficult to see it. Yet even though I didn't manage to experience it the way I had last week, the rainbow light and energy was still powerful enough for me to feel it while we were travelling in the car.

A girlfriend who sent me a text message to tell me about the rainbow wanted to know what this second huge rainbow appearing in our sky, so soon after the first, meant.

I think it's just God's beautiful way of confirming that better things are to come.

All higher beings are of the light and made of light.

Mother Mary's light is rainbow hued.

The new generation of children who are entering the world today, who are very connected to their higher selves and to the spiritual law that says we are all one with God, are called the Rainbow children.

The world as we know it is changing, transforming ... just as mankind on the whole is moving up a notch in mass consciousness.

That's what the rainbow light and energy is about: Transformation. Ascension. Moving on to better things, a better world where love and peace will overcome hatred and war.

That's a promise that I have utter faith in. Nothing can be more beautiful than that.

somewhere under the rainbow

We had a mother of an electrical storm early this evening, complete with awesome zigzags of lightning ripping the sky apart which were accompanied by reverberating booms of thunder that would have sent our dog Churchie running under the bed to hide, were he still alive.

The cosmic rock concert lasted all of 10, 15 minutes and then it just rained.

Being Singaporeans used to tropical thunderstorms, most of us didn't think much of it and carried on with our day ... until we made our way home after work.

For the hugest, most perfect and gorgeous rainbow adorned our sky.

Sitting in the car with Brian as he drove along the expressway, we both saw the rainbow at the same time and we both gasped at its size and beauty.

Despite our tropical weather, we don't often see rainbows after a storm here in Singapore. The ones that we do have always appeared more far away and, hence, fainter in colour.

But this one was a gigantic, clearly defined arc with the most brilliant, vibrant colours. It was just so in-your-face, and I've never seen anything like it.

Even through our rain-dappled windscreen, its magnificence was breathtaking. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

When we got home, it was just about 7 and still light (a rare occurrence for me, as I don't often get home till about 8pm). But what made it extra wonderful was that the rainbow was still visible, and now it seemed to arch right in front of our home.

The moment we got out of the car, we could see it in its entirety, in full, glorious technicolour.

We called Jordan out to look at it, and these pictures were taken by him, with his camera phone, from the stoop outside our apartment.

We got even more excited when we saw that the rainbow had a "double" arching over it. Its colours were fainter, and it wasn't a complete arc, but still it was there.



For almost five minutes, the three of us stood gazing up at this beautiful, awe-inspiring proof of God's power of creation and love. I don't know if Brian and Jordan realised it, but we were all buzzed by the high-voltage rainbow energy and light.

We watched some birds fly across the sky, as if trying to touch that beautiful arc of light and colour, and then the sun went down. All too soon, the rainbow "lost" half its arch before swiftly disappearing from view.

I thank God for this very special gift today -- a truly up-close-and-personal healing with rainbow light and energy.

And I believe that all who were beneath this rainbow today, whether we were standing outdoors admiring it or cooped up in cars or buildings, oblivious to it, received a dose of healing energy and light. It was that powerful.

Even now, as I write this, I can still feel the buzz of rainbow energy running through me. What a high.

And oh yes, I've fallen in love with God all over again.

More pictures (taken by me)!!

happy birthday, sweet 16

My son Jordan turned 16 today.

Where has the time flown?

I see this lanky young man standing before me, and images of a newborn baby with a full head of hair and tiny, long fingers flash before my eyes. I can still hear him, as a toddler, clapping his hands and singing when we were on the bus home after an outing one day, entertaining the other passengers with his infectious joy and little chipmunk voice.

I miss the long, curly ponytail that he'd had to have cut off when he started primary school -- a lock of hair that we'd left uncut since he was a baby.

I miss the little boy who used to quietly slip his hand into mine or his Dad's whenever he needed reassurance, the child who would unhesitatingly climb onto our laps for a kiss and a cuddle whenever he wanted because he was so confident of our love.

The young man who stands before me today won't let me hug him in public because it's uncool and embarrassing. But every night before he goes to bed, he willingly gives me a goodnight kiss, and returns the occasional hug that I manage to steal.

This young man no longer tells us everything, and there are things in his life that we do not know about. But while we've taught him that privacy is to be respected, he also knows that it is not to be abused; that truth and trust are to be held in even higher regard. So I'm grateful that he still willingly tells us about his day, choosing to share with us the things that matter -- his friends, his thoughts, his fears and his dreams.

As I look at Jordan today, I still see my baby, my little boy. But I also see the sensitive, compassionate, peace-loving and intelligent teenager that he is, and the wonderful man that he is becoming.

And I am grateful for this very precious gift that God entrusted into our care.

Happy birthday, son.

there can be unity in diversity

Every year, when the Lunar New Year rolls around, someone always asks if I celebrate it. Yes I do, I always say.

I may not celebrate it in a purely traditional Chinese way, but it’s still an occasion that I look forward to. For me, this is often a poignant time because it reminds me of who and what I am.

My family -- including my in-laws -- always come to lunch on the first day of every Lunar New Year. Over the years, visiting friends and family have also found their way to my table on this day, and it is always a time of camaraderie and laughter.

This year, my dining table groaned under the weight of oxtail devil curry, Malay chicken curry, beef rendang, waxed pork sausages, homemade ngoh hiang (meat rolls), homemade char siew (barbecued pork), roast pork, udang nanas (prawns in pineapple curry) and asparagus with tofu.

And I was surrounded by Chinese, Eurasians, an Indian and a Dutchman -- every one of whom was family. A combination of English and Cantonese was spoken at the table, and if any of my dad's side of the family had joined us, Malay would have been added to the mix.

If it wasn't for the fact that everyone was shaking hands and wishing each other "Happy New Year!" while exchanging hongbaos, this could have been just any family get-together.

And for me, that's exactly what this was: a celebration of family; about ties that cannot be broken by anything -- least of all language, race or religion.

The eclectic menu that we enjoyed was simply a reflection of the diversity that makes up my family; that is a part of me.

My mum's pure Chinese, my dad isn't (there's Dutch blood somewhere but he grew up in a Peranakan family). My husband is Eurasian, with Portuguese ancestry. One of my two sisters is married to a Chinese. My husband's sisters are married to Chinese, Indian and Dutch men. According to my dad, my son is maybe a third or a quarter Chinese.

Much as I love Christmas, it is really during the Lunar New Year that I am reminded of my roots and grounded by them. And I rejoice in the fact that such a large group of people, with such diverse ethnic and cultural backgrounds, can still come together as a family, bound by the common threads of love and respect.

And at times like this, I'm also proud to be Singaporean, for it is truly one of the few countries in the world where people of different religions and cultures can sit together at a table to share food and conversation, in celebration of each other's festivals.

If it can be done at my home, and in this country, then surely it can also be done elsewhere in the world.

Happy New Year.

happy birthday to me

I've spent most of my birthday at work. Twelve straight hours in the office. I'd really wanted to get a day off today, but it being a Friday (the busiest day of the week at work), I couldn't.

So... bummer.

But there were lots of bright moments throughout the day.

Thanks to Facebook, a lot more people were alerted to the occasion and the well wishes that came my way -- not just from Singapore, but also Abu Dhabi, Australia and Germany -- really made a difference. Those well wishes started coming in from yesterday and kept on coming till about 11 tonight.

Wow.

I know some people will laugh and say that it's quick and easy to send birthday greetings these days because it's free.

Sure.

But I am still touched and grateful for the fact that these people
1. cared enough about me to even want to greet me on my birthday
2. took precious time off their busy schedules to type or text me a message of love and well wishes.

As I sit here now, I do regret that I was unable to spend my birthday more meaningfully.

But I'm glad to have this time now to reflect a little on the past year, on the choices I've made and the things that I've done. Not all have been wise and wonderful, but the fact that there are people in the world who love me and wish me well despite that, tells me I'm also doing some things right.

And that's a great birthday gift. Thank you all very much.

the letter

It's been a tough week.

Having returned to work only on Jan 6 after being on leave since before Christmas, getting back into the office routine has been a little difficult. And it isn't because I'm still nursing a hangover from the festive season.

I was actually really busy, juggling Christmas and my son's new school year preparations, but I loved every minute of it.

I got to catch up with friends whom I don't often get to spend much time with because of our busy work schedules. Best of all, I got to just be around my husband Brian and son Jordan, and enjoy one another's company. In between wrapping presents and preparing for Christmas, I spent whatever time I could conducting angel readings, healings, workshops and meditations.

My days and nights were full, but I was happy.

Even before I went on leave, I'd been getting signs and indications that the new year would bring more changes for me, and that I would very likely end up working part-time and doing more spiritual work. But because of the economic crisis, I thought I'd better hold on to my stable job for as long as possible, just to be safe.

But going back to work has confirmed that I am now at a point in my life where a career is no longer as important as it used to be. It's a good job, but it isn't something that I'd like to do for the rest of my life. Most of all, I hate the unending office politics and the negative energy that comes with it.

I knew in my heart that change was coming; I just wasn't sure when or how it would happen. But my answer came much sooner than I dreamed it would.

On Friday, we got our annual letters from Human Resources that tell us how well or how badly we've been banded by our supervisors, and how much, if at all, of a salary increment we will get. Let's just say that mine was a bummer.

Knowing that my immediate supervisor, who is younger, feels threatened by my experience and skills, I have tried for the past year to keep as low a profile as possible at work. I simply put in a full day's work and go home because I have found a joy and fulfilment in my home life and spiritual work that my job cannot compete with.

Yet despite lying low, everything about me riles her. And nothing that I do is right, as far as she is concerned. The letter that I got was proof of that.

But Brian has been wonderful. He was as upset as I was, at first. But later he came to me and suggested that I should consider working part-time so that I can concentrate on my spiritual work.

"We can easily tighten our belts," he said. "We've already got all that we need. We have our house, our car, and our animals. And you have your angels. You can just work three times a week and do your spiritual work. We'll manage. And we'll be happy."

And that's when I realised that this is how God and the universe has worked things out for me. The letter was simply a physical sign that was sent to me to confirm my life path. Better yet, it served to help Brian understand and accept that this is the direction which is best for me to take.

And he's right. I do have all that I need.

I am blessed with a loving husband, a wonderful son, beloved pets, supportive parents, true friends, a roof over our heads, food on the table, and a car to get around in. I also have guides, angels and archangels always around me, guiding, protecting and working with me. And last but not least, I have an almighty God who loves and watches over me, and who provides me with the tools and the assistance that I need to live a happy, fulfilling life -- even when I don't know what I want or need.

After having read my letter on Friday, I stuffed it into my handbag and couldn't even look at it again without feeling upset and angry.

Today, I look at the letter and I feel love and gratitude. For all that I have, and for the knowledge of what truly is important to me.

god, you rock!

Today, I finally managed to make it to a crystal shop that I'd been wanting to check out for quite a while. I was supposed to have met up with Mike, a friend of a friend who ran another store at the same shopping centre, who would then introduce me to the crystal shop owners so that they would, hopefully, give me a better price for the pieces I would buy.

But of course nothing worked out as planned.

Mike's shop wasn't yet open when I got there at 11.40am, although I'd been told that it would be open at 11. I tried calling Mike on his cellphone, but there was no response. So I decided to take a chance and wander around the mall, which I hadn't been to before, and look for the crystal shop myself.

I'd been told by those who have been to it that the owners tend to be erratic with their operating hours, so I braced myself in case it was closed too.

It was open.

I wandered in with the idea of checking out the clear quartz crystal spheres that the shop carried, although I wasn't really looking to buy anything in particular.

Of course I ended up picking up a few things. And I got to meet Henry, a nice young man who helped out at the shop on a voluntary basis. We were chatting about crystals when a shelf full of large, free-form carnelians caught my eye.

I walked to the shelf and picked up a piece that had attracted my attention, still talking to Henry. Then he suddenly excused himself and left me alone to browse while he went to assist the owners in another part of the shop.

I was admiring the piece of carnelian that I'd picked up when I saw another, much larger and unusual-shaped piece. I carefully replaced the first piece and picked up the second. Before I could examine it properly, a third piece of carnelian on that shelf, which I hadn't noticed before, began to rock from side to side.

Startled, I thought that I must have accidentally brushed it with my hand while picking up the large piece, although I could have sworn that I hadn't touched anything other than the pieces that I had picked up, as I had been very careful.

Without thinking, I said aloud: "Why are you rocking when I didn't touch you?"

It stopped, and I picked it up to look at it. It was quite lovely, although its quiet beauty had to be noticed to be appreciated.

Somehow, I again got distracted by the first two pieces that I had seen earlier. So I very carefully returned that third piece to its place on the shelf and picked up the other two again.

Guess what. That third piece rocked again.

At that point, I decided that if it wanted to come home with me, who was I to argue?

So I mentally said goodbye to those other two pieces and returned them to the shelf. Then I picked up Rock Star and brought it to the cashier together with the
other crystals I had selected and paid for them.

When I got home, I put Rock Star on my dining table and gently pushed it to see if it would rock. It rocked slightly, perhaps three or four times, before steadying and stopping. I tried it again; a little harder this time. And again it rocked ... four, five times.

At the shop, it had rocked gently like a rocking chair.

I read up on carnelians, and discovered that one of the stone's spiritual properties is that it assists in taking action to manifest one's highest goals and dreams. Especially for people like me, who lean in the direction of spirituality and do their inner work from the heart chakra up, the carnelian aids in awakening the vital energies of the three lower chakras, increasing zest for living and the willingness to take the risks inherent in strong actions.

In other words, Rock Star has come into my life to rock my world, so that I can achieve my soul's desire and truly walk my life path.

What can I say? God, You rock!




Rock Star's front




Rock Star's back ... do you see what I see?

a special 2012 meditation on sentosa

The last time I went to Sentosa was sometime in September, when I and five others accompanied my spiritual mentor Elisabeth Jensen to help the island to "breathe". It was an amazing experience for me personally (see Our Very Own Magical Island posted on Oct 7 this year).

But it also turned out to be a lesson in commitment for me.

Elisabeth had mentioned, after that session, that it would be good if we could hold another meditation on the island on Dec 20. For the date 2012 -- because of its connection with the Mayan calendar's prediction of the year 2012 -- would be a powerful day spiritually, as many believe that energy portals will open up on that day to help raise the vibration of the planet as a whole.

At the time, I told myself that I would attend the meditation if one of the others in the group -- all powerful healers and teachers in their own right -- were to organise it. But in the end, it was I who was led to do it.

Somehow, the urge to return to the island and hold a meditation was so strong that it propelled me to create an event in my Facebook group, Angels And Light, and invite anyone who would be interested to attend the meditation. And somehow, as I was writing out the event description, I felt the need to include another meditation for the fairies on the island.

The response wasn't encouraging at first, but it slowly picked up. In the end, seven people confirmed their attendance, with a few more giving "maybe" replies. But I've learned from experience not to rely on "confirmed" attendances when it comes to spiritual matters.

So I just told myself to wait and see. I had no set idea as to how to conduct the meditations and what to say during them, but I trusted that God and the angels would lead and assist me when the time came. What was more difficult, for me, was prepping myself to stick to the plan and go on with the meditation even if no one turned up and it rained.

All I knew was that I had to conduct three meditations -- one to help those who came to connect with the universe and their higher selves; another to further open up the energy vortex there so that the healing energy from the Lemurian crystal underneath can channel more powerfully through and around the island and beyond; and a third to connect with the fairies and help them by rebalancing the energy on the island.

So yesterday, when I woke up, I prayed once more for lovely weather. I asked for a cool, breezy day and no rain. And I got it.

In fact, I got more than I'd bargained for.

Nine people turned up -- more than I had hoped. And when it was time to lead the first two meditations, the words simply came. And the meditations were powerful. One in the group felt the crystals he was holding vibrate, others felt a tingling in their hands or body. Some felt the energy from beneath build up and swirl around them before spreading to the island and beyond. One person saw bright golden light; another felt the energy and vibration of a higher being's presence.

And Isis was there. I was a little surprised at first, but I quickly realised that it wasn't surprising at all, as it was this beautiful, loving Egyptian goddess who had guided Elisabeth to help with the island's healing in the first place. She graciously channeled a message of thanks to all who had turned up for the meditations and blessed them.

Then we walked on to the next spot, for the meditation with the fairies. As I led the meditation, I thought I heard singing and music, but I gave it little thought as I concentrated on the words and images that were flooding my mind as I spoke.

It was only after it was over and the others shared that they had heard humming, singing and even the sound of ringing bells, that we realised the fairies had given us a lovely gift in return for sending them love, light and healing. Not only had they sent us love, light and healing in return, but they had also let us hear them.

Not everyone in the group had all or the same experiences, of course. Some hadn't heard the singing, but had felt their auras being cleansed and cleared both during and after the meditation. Others saw bright, twinkling sparks of fairy light. Yet others who hadn't seen or heard anything came away with a sense of love and peace which they hadn't had before.

And through it all, the Olympus camera that I'd brought along that afternoon alternated between taking crystal-clear pictures and startling ones that captured the energies that had been invisible to our naked eye but which had obviously been present.

So to all who joined me at Sentosa yesterday with the pure intention of connecting with God and your higher selves, and to help both the island and the fairies by sending them light, love and healing from your hearts, I humbly add my thanks to Isis' and the fairies'.

I'd also like to add that I believe that everyone of you -- like me -- got more than you bargained for. Because all that love, light and healing that you sent out came back to you a hundredfold.



After the first two meditations at The Heart Of The Forest on the Dragon Trail, I took a picture of the backs of the group as they headed down the trail to the next location for the meditation with the fairies. All I could see was showers of energy and light.




It couldn't possibly have been a camera malfunction, as this picture was taken after that, when we got to the site for our third meditation.



After the fairies meditation, it went all fuzzy again.



Heading out of the trail. The meditations were done, but the energies definitely weren't.



Final group shot before we parted company. Note how the dragon's head is clear but there's still fuzz around the group -- a combination of our auras and lots of energies and light.

gentleman rex

When I left for work this morning, I kissed my beloved cat Rex goodbye, knowing it would be the last time.

Rex had been ailing for about three months. The vet discovered that he was jaundiced, which meant that his liver and kidneys were in trouble. When he continued to lose weight despite medication, he was hospitalised for over a week.

Being kept on a drip with round-the-clock medical care for eight days didn't improve anything. Instead, his jaundice got worse and he refused to eat. Despite our visiting him twice a day, every day, he just got sadder and sadder.

So we tried leaving him at the vet's for the day and taking him home with us in the evenings. He liked that a lot better but he caught on really quickly. After the second morning of being carted to the vet's on our way to the office, he hid under the bed on the third morning when he saw us getting ready for work.

Worse, his condition did not improve.

In the end, after speaking to the vet, who assured us that Rex was not in pain, we agreed that we would all be much happier if we just took him home. So on the night of Nov 13, we picked him up from the vet's after work.

No medication was given for him. We all knew that he was coming home to spend his last days.

What we all did not expect was that he would live for a whole month more.

But Rex has always been the epitome of grace and love. He was a gentle soul, peace-loving and patient with everyone. He could always be counted on to accept a new arrival in the house, and even when the younger cats were extra naughty or annoying, he seldom lost his temper.

In all his 14 years, the times when he actually lost his cool and smacked one of the other cats never failed to surprise us -- proof of how few and far between such instances were.

I called him Gentleman Rex because he always did the right thing and had such a charming, courtly way about him.

And oh, how he loved us. I didn't realise how much until now.

Because he was no longer eating, the vet had advised us to simply syringe small amounts of chicken soup, water, an isotonic drink, and even a solution of glucose and water into his mouth at regular intervals throughout the day.

So we would make different Chinese-style soups for him every day -- chicken one day, pork ribs the next, fish the day after. We wanted him to get whatever nutrients he could take in. He didn't like it, but Rex, ever the gentleman, patiently accepted our awkward, amateurish attempts at syringeing liquids into his mouth.

We spent as much time as we could with him before and after work, and we brought him up on our bed to sleep with us at nights. Sometimes we'd put him on the bed first and potter around a little more before coming to bed, and he would sit up alertly, watching and waiting for us to join him. Then he would walk on unsteady legs to lie between our pillows.

Every morning, he would wake up just after 6 because breakfast for the other cats is about 6.30, and he knew that once everyone had had their breakfast, it would be his turn for some soup. And then I would carry him out into the garden for some fresh air, where he could watch the others play.

I would sit outside with him every morning, until he decided he'd had enough and turn towards home. Then I'd bring him in, towel-dry the dew from the grass off him, and settle him down on a fresh towel under the bed, where he liked to be the rest of the day.

Last Friday morning, after being home for three weeks, he rose from where he'd been sitting on the grass for several minutes and walked away from the house.

"Don't go too far, Rex," I said to him. "Mummy'll come get you soon."

He turned back to look at me and then carried on walking.

I'll join him soon, I said to myself. He's too weak to go too far, anyway.

And then i got distracted by something.

Minutes later, I walked in the direction Rex had gone and realised he was nowhere in sight. I panicked. I couldn't believe he could have moved so quickly and so far in his condition.

The thought that he had gone into hiding in order to die, as animals do, crossed my mind but I pushed it away because I could not accept that I had lost him.

But I had.

I can't remember how many times I combed the grounds of the condominium estate, stooping low to sweep aside leaves and underbrush, looking into drains and calling his name. I couldn't stop weeping because I blamed myself for allowing him to disappear.

People who saw me that day must have thought I was mad. Because for eight hours, at regular 15-to-20 minute intervals, this red-eyed, dishevelled woman would comb the grounds, calling for Rex and invoking the angels for help.

I ventured further afield to search the nearby canal, which is connected to the drains in and around my estate. I walked along the roads surrounding my estate, looking into drains and calling his name. My worst fear was that he had gotten lost in the network of drains and would be swept out to sea when it rained.

And the sky threatened to open up that day. I prayed to God for help: Please don't let it rain.

I begged Archangel Michael to protect and find him.

I pleaded with Archangel Raphael to continue nursing him, making sure he was not in any pain or suffering.

And I called for both Rex's and my guardian angels to bring him back to me.

I prayed for a miracle and I got it.

Eight hours later, I went on yet another round of the estate, still pleading with the archangels and angels as I scoured for Rex. And I saw him.

Almost obscured behind some tall grass, he was tentatively peering around him. My heart stopped. I couldn't be sure it was him as I was still fairly far away, but I wasn't taking any chances. I ran as fast as I could and jumped down a high ledge, hurting my wrist in the process, to get to him before he disappeared again.

It was him. He didn't realise it was me at first and tried to run when he saw me coming towards him. But I managed to catch him and lift his frail, slight body into my arms. The moment he realised it was me, he purred.

I walked home with him held tightly in my arms, thanking God, the archangels, Rex's guardian angel, my guardian angel and all the angels who had been with the both of us all this time. All I can say is, I understand what the Bible means when it talks about how the angels in heaven rejoice when the shepherd finds his lost sheep.

The thanksgiving that filled my heart overflowed. I could feel the angels and archangels sharing my joy, just as Brian (who had been struggling to work despite his fear and worry) and Jordan (who'd had to go to school that day) did when I told them I'd found Rex.

And through it all, not a drop of rain fell around my estate, although I heard later that there had been heavy rain in many parts of the island that day.

Rex stayed with us for another week before finally going home, into the light, at 11.58am today. Sadly, Brian and I had to leave him in the loving care of our maid Rowena earlier on because we had to go to work.

How I wanted to call in sick, but as I had actually been on medical leave just a few days before because of a particularly virulent stomach virus, I couldn't do it with a clear conscience. And Fridays are the heaviest work days for both Brian and me.

And so we stroked, cuddled and kissed him one last time this morning. We thanked him for coming into our lives 14 years ago to gift us with his love. We told him what a difference he had made, what joy he had given us, how much we loved him, how we would always be a family, and that we would be together again.

We told him it would be okay for him to go when it was time, that Archangel Michael had promised he would pick him up in his strong, protective and loving arms and walk with him into the light, that Archangel Raphael had and would continue to take away all pain so that he would remain comfortable, and that his guardian angel would carry on loving and watching over him.

He was too weak to purr, slipping in and out of sleep as we sat with him. Then just before we had to leave, he suddenly stiffened and stretched and called out. Immediately we gathered closer, reaffirming our love and telling him not to be afraid to go into the light if it was time.

We thought it was the end. But then I noticed that he was still breathing, although very shallowly. And he seemed to be sleeping. I actually could feel Michael's presence and I knew it was almost time for Rex to go.

We couldn't do anything more. We had made the necessary arrangements for his burial and we were already late for work.

Reluctantly, our hearts breaking, we left the house. And over an hour later, Rex passed on. He never woke up from his sleep.

Looking back, I believe that Rex probably did go away to die the week before.

But because we were so distraught by his disappearance, and because I prayed so hard for God and the angels to bring him home to us, I believe the archangels and angels had a talk with him, explaining the situation.

I believe that Rex, out of great love for us, chose to come home to save us from heartbreak.

For why else would he, in such sickly and weakened state, have come out of hiding after eight long hours?

And I believe that because he told them he would return to us, the angels helped to orchestrate my finding him -- for I was led to the place where he appeared out of nowhere at just the right time, for me to spot him.

Last but not least, I also believe that the first time he stretched and called out this morning was the actual time for him to go, because I felt Michael's presence so strongly. But Rex chose to stay on for just a while longer, to be sure that Brian and I had really accepted and made peace with his leaving. And God and the angels granted this for all our sakes.

I am both awed and humbled by the power of such love. How blessed we are to be loved so much and so well.

Thank you, my beloved Rex. Till we meet again, my perfect gentleman.



Visiting Rex while he was hospitalised. Both his paws were swollen from the constant intravenous drip that he was on.

getting to know gabriel

The more I work with the angels, the more miracles occur in my life. And I am constantly awed by the way God and His messengers work.

Yesterday was the first time that I conducted a two-hour session called Get To Know Gabriel.

As with the Meet Michael session, I read up and researched on Gabriel and trusted her to guide and help me come up with a guideline for the workshop.

While preparing for Gabriel's session, I was struck by the difference in response this time around.

When I announced my intention to conduct both archangel sessions, I received several emails and phone texts inquiring about the Meet Michael session. Many people expressed their keenness to attend the session, excited about meeting Michael and learning to connect and work with him.

No one wrote or called to ask about Gabriel's workshop.

Right up to yesterday morning, as I meditated and prepared for the afternoon session, I had no idea if anyone would even turn up.

Poor Gabriel, I thought. Everybody knows Michael and wants to connect with him, but no one seems very keen on getting to know and working with you.

About five minutes before 3pm, when the session was supposed to begin, the first person arrived. And then the second person came. In the end, four people turned up -- two more than had turned up for Michael's session.

And the session went wonderfully.

While Michael, whom I am particularly connected to, gave physical proof of his presence by turning over a pendant that had been placed on the altar, Gabriel proved her presence in a different way:

By quietly preparing and working on the hearts and lives of those who eventually turned up for the session well before yesterday, very likely without their even realising it. For after it was over, they privately shared with me that they had all been keen to attend Michael's session but had somehow been unable to make it in the end.

Yet after Gabriel's session, they realised they had probably needed to work with her softer, gentler but no less powerful energy before working with Michael.

And, as usual, I came away with a lesson too: Never underestimate the angels.

I needn't have worried for Gabriel. I'm glad she has a sense of humour and didn't take offence at my little "poor you" spiel.

And oh, have I mentioned how awestruck I am... again?

meeting michael

For the first time yesterday, I conducted a mini workshop called Meet Michael, a two-hour session where I help people forge a closer connection and bond with Archangel Michael.

As the world and humanity as a whole continue to move onto a higher level of consciousness and being, the angels and archangels are working hard to connect with more people so that they can help and work with them.

For a while now, I've been receiving messages to start conducting a series of simple Meet The Archangel sessions. This would help more people to get to know the archangels a little more, and to realise and learn that they can connect with them on a personal level and receive help, guidance and healing from them in their lives.

So several weeks ago, I took the plunge and let the word out that I would be conducting a Meet Michael session, which took place yesterday afternoon; and a Get To Know Gabriel session this coming Saturday.

I didn't have very much to go on as to how to conduct the sessions and what to say or do during them. All I knew was that the archangels wanted very much to reach out to more people so that they could make a difference in their lives.

For the past few weeks, I have been reading up on Archangel Michael and calling on him for help and guidance with coming up with the outline for the session.

As the day of the first session drew near, I could feel Michael's presence growing stronger by the day. Three days before the session, I found myself gravitating towards the colour blue in my wardrobe, and I automatically reached for my angel themed jewellery when I got dressed for work.

Blue and gold are the Archangel Michael's colours. And I realised that my soul was invoking him to come to my aid as I prepared to conduct the workshop on a spiritual as well as mental and emotional level.

Books on the archangels came my way as I began my reading and research work. I took notes of what nuggets of information I could incorporate into the sessions. Then early Friday morning, I sat out in the garden and, in an hour, finished the outline for the session that I would be conducting the following day.

The day arrived, and I wondered who would or would not make it to the workshop. I firmly believe that the angels and divinities lead and guide those who are ready to connect or work with them to the courses, readings or healings that they eventually turn up for. Nothing works by chance or coincidence.

Sometimes, there will be little "tests" -- perhaps a sudden cold or a little crisis at home or at work -- that will crop up unexpectedly just before the session.

I often get people texting me just before the course/reading/healing that they signed up for, to tell me that they suddenly feel under the weather, or that something happened at home, or that they had to work till late the night before and are now too tired to make it. They will either ask me if they should still come anyway, or send their regrets and say they won't be turning up after all.

Despite the disappointment, I've learned to let it go. For it is not for me to judge the whys and the wherefores.

Many times, it is simply a matter of divine timing. Perhaps the person involved wasn't quite ready for a reading or healing or workshop yet, but needed to come to the point where he or she consciously made the decision to attend it. That alone is a powerful healing, and a huge step forward on his or her spiritual path. I also know that the person will eventually turn up for the reading or healing or workshop when the time is right for him or her.

And when someone asks me to make a decision for him or her, or to ask the angels to tell them whether he or she should come anyway, I make it clear that I cannot tell them what to do. For when it comes to choices of the spirit, the decision has to be completely yours. I have no right to persuade or advise you either way. And the angels would already have given you clear signs. All you have to do is follow your heart.

So it was that only two of the four people who had confirmed their attendance made it to yesterday's session. A fifth person unexpectedly turned up just before we were about to begin. She ended up deciding not to attend the session but left her crystal on the altar to be cleansed, cleared and blessed by Michael anyway.

It was awkward, but I accepted it as something that was meant to be, and I knew that there probably was a lesson here for me.

The session went well, as I knew it would. From the moment I called his name and invited him to come into the room and clear the space, Michael made his presence known -- the fiery warmth of his energy made us all perspire despite having both the air-conditioning and fan on.

But the best part came at the end, when I asked the attendees to collect the crystals and crystal jewellery that they had placed on the altar for Michael to cleanse, clear and bless.

We noticed that one pendant -- the one belonging to the woman who had decided against attending -- had turned turtle. We had watched it being placed carefully on the altar, and no one had touched anything during the session.

Obviously, Michael wanted to give us some proof of his presence.

More importantly, I believe he left a personal message for me: That God and the angels can turn seemingly negative situations into miracles.

guinness my darling

We lost our beloved Guinness this afternoon. She was 13.

For the past couple of months, she had been having occasional bouts of a hacking cough. Visits to the vet didn't help, as the doctor couldn't detect anything wrong with her.

No matter how badly she coughed at home, when we brought her to see the vet, all coughing stopped and she always seemed fine.

One morning about a month ago, we found her upstairs gasping for breath. We rushed her to the vet's and again, the doctor on duty could not find anything wrong. She prescribed some antibiotics and some pills that would open her air passage to help her breathe.

Guinness was fine until over a week ago. Jordan came home from school and found her gasping for breath in the balcony. We rushed her to the vet and, yet again, came home with just more pills to help her breathe.

Basically, the other vet on duty that day said that given her age, nothing much could be done for her as she seemed generally okay except for the wheezing. It was probably her lungs, he said -- she's like an old person struggling to breathe.

So we spent this past week watching her carefully. It didn't help that Rex, who is 14, caught a cold over two weeks ago and got steadily worse. When we brought him to the vet's, he had to stay overnight for some tests and the vet discovered that he was very jaundiced -- meaning his kidney and liver were in trouble.

He ended up being hospitalised for eight days.

We went twice a day every day to visit him, but no matter what they tried at the clinic, blood tests showed that Rex's jaundice was getting worse. At his age, the vet did not think a biopsy would be a good idea, for even if he recovered from the surgery, there was no guarantee that he would recover from whatever it was that was causing the jaundice.

After eight days of hospitalisation, where he grew more depressed, the vet said we could bring him home. But because he still wasn't eating, we agreed to bring him into the clinic every morning, where they could give him medication and nutrients intravenously during the day, and we'd take him home in the evenings.

We did this for four days, but yet another blood test showed that it wasn't helping. In the end, we decided to bring him home last Thursday night, and take care of him as best as we can. The vet agreed that he would be happier.

Unfortunately, during this period, Guinness got worse.

She lost her appetite and the asthma-like attacks became more frequent. All we could do was watch her closely, give her the breathing pills and feed her water and food through a syringe.

For the past five nights, I have been sleeping on the floor, between Guinness and Rex, to talk to them, to let them know how much they are loved, and to make sure that I am on hand to render help and medication immediately should they get in distress.

Rex has been relatively steady since he came home, but Guinness steadily worsened.

On her worst day last week, we had to pop those breathing pills into her once every four hours (the vet had recommended giving it to her three times a day and reducing it to once a day when she got better). I honestly thought it was touch-and-go that day.

But somehow she made it through the day and night, and stabilised by late morning the next day.

I think she chose to stay on a little longer so she could let us know how much she loved us.

Despite struggling for breath, she made the effort to make eye contact and purr whenever we "talked". She hated having to take the pill, which sometimes distressed her so much that it would make her hyperventilate. But she always forgave us, and showed she understood by purring when she could breathe again.

She wasn't fond of being fed water and diluted food through a syringe, but she accepted it, and we were grateful for that.

Every morning, after giving them breakfast, we let the cats out to play in the garden, so they can get a couple of hours to exercise or nap in the sun and fresh air. Both Rex and Guinness have continued to go outdoors with the rest of the cats. They don't romp like the younger ones do, but they enjoy watching them or just dozing in the sun.

Usually when it rains, they all choose to stay in where it's warm and dry.

It rained just half an hour after they went out this morning. Both Guinness and Rex came in from the wet like the others. Yet Guinness asked to go out again when the rain stopped. Perhaps she knew that it would be her last time.

I let her out again and she was content to sit just outside the house. So I left her there and went to shower and get ready for work. When I was dressed, we went out to bring her in again, and we found her struggling for breath near the poolside.

We brought her home and gave her a pill. Even as she heaved, she looked at me and purred. When the pill began to work and her breathing steadied, I stroked her and told her we loved her. I explained that Brian would be home early this afternoon, and that I'd see her when I got home from work tonight. She just looked at me and purred.

She passed away at 3.02 this afternoon, after waiting patiently for Brian to come home. He said she was fine when he checked on her when he got in. But just a few minutes later, she made a sound and when he checked again, she was breathing very heavily.

She went quickly and peacefully, he said. Her heaving eased and she was gone within minutes, with Brian by her side, stroking her and telling her he loved her.

We are grateful for that. And we give special thanks to her guardian angel as well as to archangels Raphael and Michael.

Her guardian angel, for the constant love, care and protection unconditionally given.

Raphael, for being with her 24/7 since I asked him for help. He healed Guinness by removing much of her pain and discomfort so that she could continue to lead as normal and mobile a life as possible right to the end. He also granted my request to ensure that, when it was time for her to go home, she would go easily and painlessly, without suffering and fear.

Michael, for keeping his promise to come for her when it was time, and for taking her into his loving arms and carrying her into the light with him, so that she wouldn't be afraid, but would go in love and light and joy.

I may not have been with Guinness when she went, but I know it happened just the way I described. Because the angels have never let me down.

Tonight, and for as long as it takes, I will continue to sleep on the floor with Rex. For he too, is getting weaker by the day.

I have asked for the miracle of a turnaround for him, yet I have also asked for the same miraculous privileges for him -- as I had for Guinness -- if a turnaround isn't meant to be, and it is his time to go home.

For me, it is miracle enough to know that God's love is so great that the angels and archangels will love and come to the aid of our beloved pets when we ask. And to know that when it is time for Brian, Jordan or me to go, we will be going home to a house in heaven that will be filled with all our beloved pets who have gone before.

Oh, what a homecoming that will be.

change is in the air

Never have I seen so many Singaporeans so passionate about an election.

For a nation that rarely loses its cool during its own government elections, the recent American polls had so many Singaporeans avidly following its electoral campaign that I'm sure they would have voted too, if they had been able to.

And for someone who is usually pretty neutral about the American government, I found myself, for the first time, actually hoping that one particular person would win.

Like millions of others, I cast my lot, metaphorically speaking, with Barack Obama. And when he won, I too -- like so many Singaporeans and others around the world -- celebrated along with the American people who had voted him into power.

I have utmost respect for Hillary Clinton, and I know she would have done a lot of good as President of the United States. But she is of the Old Guard of politics and government.

Some political experts have sniffed at Mr Obama's lack of experience, but the world is ready for change. What Mr Obama lacks in experience, he makes up for in integrity, vision and a willingness to work towards peace.

I like the fact that he sees things differently. I love that he is no warmonger.

Those proud proclamations of not being afraid to "make history", and the refusal to back down from "wars almost won" no longer strike a chord with most people.

Mr Obama has changed the history of the world by being the first African-American president. He has brought pride and hope to the African-American community.

But more importantly, he represents hope for the rest of the world.

For the vibration of the world as a whole is being raised, and we are already moving up to a higher level of consciousness.

Our spirits yearn for peace, love and unity in the world. For we are all one. We share the same planet. It is our home. And who wants fighting at home?

There is also no such thing as a war "almost won". There are no winners in war.

So on Mr Obama's shoulders is the weight of the world's dreams and hope for change, for peace. That is a heavy load for one man to carry. More so when the economic situation that he has inherited ensures that the going will be uphill.

We can help by not being quick to judge or criticise, by sending him love and light, and trusting that God and the angels will help do the rest.

our very own magical island

Like most Singaporeans, I've been to Sentosa island many, many times over the years.

Besides the usual outings and weekend chalet stays with friends and family, Brian and I used to take our son there quite often when he was little.

As a boy, Jordan used to love walking down the Dragon Trail together with his Daddy, because that particular walk sparked his imagination with its giant skulls, fossils and even a water-spouting dragon made of stone.


As Jordan grew older, he lost his fascination for the Dragon Trail and we haven't been to the island on a family outing for quite a while.

But last month, I went there together with five others who were on a "spiritual mission" to help Sentosa "breathe".

Elisabeth, a very powerful clairvoyant and healer whom I consider to be my spiritual mentor, had received a message that said that the current construction of the upcoming casino on Sentosa had buried the powerful, ancient crystal that is on the island.

Very few people are aware of this crystal. I only learnt about it a few years ago myself when Elisabeth was first told of its existence and guided to reactivate it through prayer and meditation.

I never joined them, but for the last few years, Elisabeth and a group of like-minded people have regularly gone to Sentosa once or twice a year to pray and meditate at the site of this crystal. It can't be seen because it is buried far beneath the island, but it is there -- those who are sensitive have experienced its energy.

I was amazed when I first learnt of its existence. I'd heard of "high energy" places that are all over the world -- Sedona in Arizona; Uluru in Australia; Stonehenge and Glastonbury in England; and the pyramids in Egypt -- but Sentosa, Singapore?

I decided to go along when Elisabeth said she needed to get to the island to find a way to create some outlet for the crystal's energy to come through, and to allow its healing energy to flow under and around the island and the region again.

I wasn't sure what to expect. But we found ourselves at the Dragon Trail, where the heart of the forest was. We stopped there to pray and meditate, and I instinctively took off my sandals so that I could connect more firmly with the ground as I closed my eyes.

Immediately, without any warning, I felt such sorrow that my tears flowed.

I couldn't explain it. All I knew was that I was somehow sharing the island's emotions, and it was grieving. Very, very deeply.

"The island is choking and the angels weep" was the message that Elisabeth had received regarding the crystal's "burial".

For the first time, my belief that the planet we live in is a living, breathing entity to be respected and loved became real to me.

This spot turned out to be one of the vortices where the crystal's energy could be released. Immediately after we did that, there was a sudden increase in the number of visitors to that particular part of the Dragon Trail, and I realised that people were unconsciously drawn to the healing energy (or dragon energy, as Elisabeth called it) that had begun to circulate again.

From there, we were guided to another vortex which I believe is meant to be kept secret, and a third spot where we were asked to pray and help fix an energy unbalance.

At the last stop, I kept seeing movement in the trees out of the corner of my eye, and I had a strong sense that we were being watched by the fairy folk. When we were done, I felt a strong rush of gratitude coming my way, and I knew it was them saying thanks for helping to fix the unbalance.

I know there'll be a lot of hooting out there when word of this spreads.

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we managed to do what we set out to do that day, despite not having any idea where to go and how to do it when we started out.

And again, it taught me that when you open your heart and mind to miracles, they do happen... all the time.

And that's magic.

the beast in you

Today is World Animal Day.

Unfortunately, it doesn't mean a thing to lot of people. Only animal lovers will understand the need for a day to acknowledge and remember the animals who share this planet with us.

Of course it's great to honour our pets for the joy and unconditional love that they bring into our lives. And it's wonderful to remember the plight of abandoned pets and strays who deserve better.

But today is also about honouring all the creatures of Earth, for they have just as much right as humans do to living lives of love, dignity, joy and good health.

A couple of days ago, I was working on the weekend listings for the newspaper. I put a small picture of a young husky next to an item describing what the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was doing this weekend in honour of World Animal Day. The picture was taken from the SPCA's calendar for next year, which would be sold at the event to help raise funds for the non-government-supported shelter.

And the editor wanted the picture of the dog taken out.

"There are so many things happening this week -- why can't we use a picture of people instead?"

But it's World Animal Day this weekend, and there are a couple of events that are being held in its honour, some of my animal-loving colleagues and I said in defence. Anyway, there are already several pictures of people in the listings pages.

"No, no no. I want a picture of a person. This dog isn't even a famous dog. Animals are nobodies!"

Of course the dog had to be taken out in the end. And a picture of some visiting French singer with a niche following was used instead.

I was so hurt and angry, I cried.

Looking back, I'm not sure whom I hurt for most. The animals, of course, because they so often have to live with such disdain and disrespect.

But I think I also cried for the editor. Because to me, that remark spoke volumes about the spirit of someone with so little regard for another life that just happens to be non-human.

our miracle cat

One year ago today, one of my beloved cats Shelley passed on. She was 14+.

My husband Brian and I called her our brave Miracle Cat.

Before we could move into our present home in February 1994, we'd had to live in a rented house nearby for a few months. At the time, our son Jordan was about six months old, and Shelley was just under a year old.

On the day that we moved into the rented house, we took extra pains to make sure that the cats came in last, after the furniture was in, so that there would be things they were familiar with in a strange house.

We also made sure that the doors and windows were closed before opening up the cat carriers. Then when the cats were let out, they could have some time to explore the house and get used to it before we opened the windows.

Unfortunately, there was one window that had not been closed properly, and when the cat carriers were opened, Shelley, who had been particularly traumatised by the long drive and all the activity, bolted.

Like an arrow, she shot from the hallway and unerringly found her way out that one open window at the back of the house. And just like that, she was gone.

Knowing that she was lost in unfamiliar surroundings which she hadn't had the chance to explore, let alone get used to, made us more desperate to find her. We walked around the whole neighbourhood looking for her several times a day, every day, for weeks.

When we took the dogs for their walks, we searched and called for her. Brian spent hours trekking through the undeveloped land near the back of the house looking for her.

We drove back to our previous home to see if she had, by chance, found her way back there, then finally we went to the SPCA to see if she had been found by a good samaritan and brought to the pound. No luck.

The people at SPCA told us that usually, if a pet cat isn't found after two weeks, it's highly unlikely that it will ever come home.

We were heartbroken. Shelley had been gone for a month, and we couldn't help blaming ourselves for her loss. We prayed for her safety and her return. We couldn't give up hoping for a miracle.

Then early in the morning on New Year's Day 1995, we got our miracle. We were sleeping in our bedroom on the second floor and I was awakened by loud meowing. And then a thin, furry bundle of love hopped onto our bed.

It was Shelley.

She was skinny, dirty and hungry. But she was home! I can't describe the rejoicing that went on in our house that day.

Our spaniel Church, whom Shelley adored, was ecstatic. My husband and I were speechless.

How this young cat, who had been born in our previous home and had never had to fend for herself since birth, survive for a whole month in totally strange surroundings and find her way back to us -- not only locating a house that she had been in for not more than a few seconds, but climbing up the stairs and homing into our bedroom and our bed -- could only be a miracle.

Of course I believe that our guardian angels -- Shelley's and ours -- had a hand in it too, and I am eternally grateful for that and all the many other things they have done for us (in our home, the angels are always busy!).

But that was when I also realised how brave, how single-minded, how powerful we can all be when love motivates us.

About a month after that, we moved yet again -- to our present home, and we had no problems at all this time.

But for the rest of her life, Shelley was living proof of the power of love. She will always be our Miracle Cat.

We miss you, darling. But we know you are always with us.