Life is Energy

I spent spend last week in Singapore attending T Harv Eker’s Train The Trainer program. When I did Millionaire Mind Intensive in March, I became a Quantum Leap member, effectively signing up for 5 courses in the Peak Potentials Curriculum. As you can see I love my personal development course.

One of the most powerful messages I got from attending the program was that everything in life is energy, be it money, training or life. Big energy begets big results. In a successful training, what is created is essentially a huge vortex of energy. And by managing, nurturing and sustaining this energy, everyone’s energy expands and so they grow.

About a decade ago I discovered a book that changed my life. It is call Paradigm Wars by Mark B Woodhouse who is a professor of philosophy. In his book he introduced me to the notion of Energy Monism which stipulates that all in life is of one essential essence. I later discover that that is the same fundamental premise of Quantum Physics. It was one of those things that fascinated me and eluded me. Harv was able to demonstrate how real energy was in a room full of people. He created high energy when he wanted to and brought it down when it was required. This was created in the context of training and it was incredibly powerful to be in the energetic ‘dance’ between trainer and audience.

Since I have been home, I became highly aware of energy. Being present to certain people’s ‘energy’ and also recognizing my own reaction to it. My dog Momo has this fragile, loving and pureness to her energy. My husband’s energy has grown since the training and his presence has become more open, steady and a new lightness is present. I feel I have expanded, fuller, more centered. I feel this is all part of the evolution of reclaiming my intuitive sense.

Ocean of love

I went for a swim with R at the Victoria park pool on Sat evening and remembered how beautiful it was to swim in the Adriatic sea. Swimming in Hvar and Dubrovnik blessed me with a breakthrough… I fell in love with the ocean unexpectedly. I already love the sea, the beach being Australian. As one is surprised to fall in love again with something one already loved, much like the surprising moments when I feel the full force and magnitude of love I have for R my husband.

I have always loved the ocean, but as a frolicker rather than a swimmer, I would only venture out far enough to splash myself, never into the waters where my toes loose contact with the sand bed. This all went away in Croatia. The lichen covered pebbled seabed was meters deep and friendly fishes distracted me with their dance. Sandwiched between the blue of the sky and the aquamarine of the ocean, I was a speck in God’s world, the fish and me, we were both really just as microscopic.

Soul Knitting (15 Feb 2002)

I have been a closet poet for quite a number of years and only a handful of friends have been privy to my poems.

There was a time when words strung themselves effortlessly in my head. Ditty capturing micro moments, when a smell, a leave, a scene that flashed by my bus window imprint themselves as words, they self-organise into poems, which I unravel on to the page one word at a time.

The older I got, the better I got at my day job, the less important I made writing. I convinced myself, writing didn’t matter, it was a youthful hobby. Whatever confidence I had about writing, I chipped away myself. I stopped writing and the deeper the gnawing grew.

S0…I have been hiding, under excuses of not being good enough, not being polished, not having a voice or anything worthy to say.
In fact when I started this blog, I didn’t really want people to read it.
The moment I registered my name in full as the blog url (seized by an almost mad moment of courage) I remember the mad panic setting in. I was naked and exposed. If I wrote from the heart, then there is no hiding.

To ‘save myself’ I found more excuses to not blog.
2 weeks ago, I told a whole other group of friends to hold me accountable to blog every other day. And most of them were so surprised I had a blog.
They asked me to send the link to them.
And I kept quiet, and changed the subject.

The next day I decided to stop the silly racket in my head. I took on sending out the link and for the first time consciously created for myself that it didn’t really matter what anyone thought. It didn’t matter what I thought. All that mattered was writing. And quietly, uneventfully since that moment I chose to just be with my own words, to not judge them.

In way, this re-new commitment to just be with words, stringing them together just for the pleasure of it, reminded me of this poem I wrote over 6 years ago.

Soul Knitting
Eva Ng
15.02.02

We are,
the knitters of our soul.

Taking bare strands of life
weaving patterns with the needles of our
hands, eyes, nose.
Shaping the looping vision with our ears, heart and mouth,
entwining the fibres of everyday,
with cheerful dexterity the one day,
and morbid dread another,
winding highs into lows, lows into highs.

We patterned this youthful section with an unskilled
vigour, knitting frenzied patches of wild woolly colours.

Dropped stitches, joyful gaps filled with exhilarating delight.
Crimson glories of foetal blood flagged life beginning.

Sorrow and tears, together stitched an abyss of grey, charcoal and muted darks,
deep pains inking the patch in shadow.

Tidy rows, the disciplined threads of adult life,
captured by neat lines in formal shades.

Years, days, hours,
click, tick, click tick the needle goes.
This great mat of colours, textures and fibres
Bold and unapologetic.
Stitch switches, switch stitches,
ultimate chaos, a true tapestry.

Masterful Living

I love this little poem which I scribbled in my daily planner from somewhere.
I aspire to live in this magical equilibrium.


I draw no distinction
between my work and my play, my mind and my body,
my education and my recreation

I simply pursue my vision of excellence
through whatever I am doing,
and leave others to determine
whether I am working or playing.

To myself, I am always doing both.

Heart to home

This morning I received an email from my youngest sister YY, recounting her move back home temporarily before she leaves for Europe to take up her scholarship for a Masters in Education. She shared a humorous exchange between her and my brother C who is the youngest in the family.

Later this morning, C emailed me to call him to sort out some paper work. And he shared that he has created ‘house rules’ for YY – which I found totally hilarious as their eldest sister.

Small anecdotes, moments of comic domesticity, so common to people living under the one roof.

Today, they came to me as extraordinary gems, an opening for me to be part of their life that is made difficult with me being in HK and them in Sydney.

In reading her short email, hearing his humorous complaint, the world shrank and I was transported home.

Inner and outer space

A friend called to invite me to take a seminar for 10 weeks. It’s called the Mastery Seminar by Landmark Education. The premise of the seminar is not to learn anything new (for graduates), it’s about getting out of the way the barriers to extraordinary performance in all areas of your life..

I particularly love this description of the seminar - Mastery in living requires having nothing between you and people, nothing between you and life, and nothing between you and yourself.

As someone with an exceptional commitment to and appreciation of excellence, mastery is a virtue I find highly inspiring and deeply appealing. My head wants me to sign up immediately, but the wisdom of my heart says not now.

Over the weekend, I am able to understand my inner compass’ guidance.

I am walking into many changes right now with the two businesses I am creating with wonderful, soulful partners and transition out of my comfort zone of being a career salaried worker. For my world to be filled with the new that is coming in, I am guided to undertake an ‘emptying’ of all sorts– physical things, emotions, thoughts, that has anchored me in my world now but I will no longer be needing in my tomorrows.

So much clutter and memories for the emptying. I see so many things I hold on to because I have never trusted myself to be without them.

More so than a physical emptiness, I anticipate such pleasure to refilling my clean and spacious inner sanctum.

Becoming more of myself

Perhaps it’s the media I elect to tune into, the books I am drawn to reading, or the podcasts I am listening to, the theme of ‘healing’ is recurrent – healing on the physical, emotional, soul and even planetary level. For a brief moment, I felt irritated by the word. I found it annoying because to require healing meant that something is broken, impaired, in dysfunction. I don’t feel, broken, impaired or defunct. Why is everything telling me I am. Why does everyone need to be healed!?!

In the same swiftness the irritation was felt, it fizzled out. Perhaps I should be grateful, I don’t feel broken. In my good fortune, how self-fish of me to beleaguer what others need.

Once my mind was able to give up my position on healing, I had what one would call a ‘critical moment’, a penetrating insightful moment on my life.

In 32 years, I have never truly embraced being a woman. I envied the speed and obvious strength of boys growing up. I preferred the company of young men over young women in my teens, I gravitated towards their crass humour, the simplicity and brunt of their friendship. In university, I love the way we shared adventures, laughter and focused clarity of goals. A little emotion is already a lot of depth in these relationships.

Women friends on the other hand cried, needed stories, needed shoulders, needed confirmations of their evolving self, were soft, were clingy, were powdered divas whose emotions rode high and low like tides to phrases of the moon. I loved them, but I found it a challenge to truly embrace their waning and waxing reproaches and love affair with the world. Most times I am in awe of them, their beauty routines, their vanities, their sweetness. And I found myself a part of yet apart from true belonging in this feminine world.

I relished in not being a girly, romantic girl. I was a strong girl, a smart girl, an efficient woman, a thinker, a do-er.

Today I realized I never truly allowed myself to unfold fully as a woman, never ventured to a space of womanhood unbeknownst to the confines of past prejudices and preferences.

32 years late and tomorrow is a new day. The amazing gift of life is that each moment holds the seed to be different from the moment before.

I saw today the synchronistic unfolding of life in my future as an entrepreneur in creating businesses that are all about serving the evolving, unfolding women in my community, city and ultimately the world. And while I embark on my new adventures, I will be starting a family, stepping into the new role being a mother. In doing so, I can see myself ‘healing’ through living, those unexpressed parts of my soul as a woman.

As I learn to embrace the varying faces of woman, I will essentially re-incarnate daily to becoming more of myself.

Here’s a poem that celebrates just this revelation. And it is of course divinely guided that I came across its magical eloquence today.

Love After Love
By Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.