Stronger than my fear

I was introduced to this Buddhism at a very young age. When I was about six years old, my grandmother began practising after a family friend introduced her to Buddhism because she had been frequently unwell and taking a lot of medication. Out of curiosity, I sometimes joined her in chanting and attending meetings. Gradually, my parents also began practising, and over the years, our family experienced many benefits through faith.

For many years, my prayers were very ordinary. As a student, I prayed to do well in school, to enter the schools I hoped for, and later, to find work. After getting married and having children, my prayers naturally shifted to family matters and everyday challenges. In many ways, my Buddhist practice simply grew together with my life.

I have never been an ambitious person. I did not dream of achieving great things or becoming someone extraordinary. In fact, I remember thinking that I simply wanted a peaceful and stable life.

Yet, through practising Buddhism, something gradually changed in me.

Our mentor often encouraged young people to have a dream and work towards it. Although I was no longer so young, I found myself thinking: perhaps I, too, could have something meaningful to strive for — something I could feel passionate about.

So I began making a rather unusual prayer: I prayed to have a dream.

At that time, I had no idea what that dream would be.

Looking back now, I truly feel that it was through prayer that life slowly opened a new path for me. Unexpectedly, I stumbled into what became a second career of sorts — becoming a fitness instructor and mat Pilates teacher.

This still feels surprising to me because I was never athletic growing up. I never played sports and only started exercising in group fitness classes in my forties. Yet, hidden quietly in my heart, I had once harboured a small dream of becoming a physical education teacher when I was young.

In an unexpected way, I feel that I am now living a version of that childhood dream.

Practising Buddhism also gave me the courage to move forward despite fear and self-doubt. I still remember how nervous I felt when I first started coaching fitness classes. Before work, while driving to the gym, I would repeatedly recite Gongyo and chant daimoku in the car, praying for courage, wisdom, and the ability to become the most competent, cheerful and confident coach I could be.

I was not praying to become perfect. I was praying to become stronger than my fear.

Today, I even find myself participating in HYROX races — something I would once have thought completely impossible for someone like me. Through these experiences, I realised that happiness does not necessarily come from living a perfect or easy life. Rather, happiness comes from continuously challenging ourselves, growing step by step, and discovering strengths we never knew we had.

Living in Singapore, a small but vibrant country, I have also come to appreciate how growth often happens quietly and steadily. For this sharing, I reflected on a Singapore flower, the Dendrobium Kaneko Ikeda orchid, named to honor Mrs Kaneko Ikeda.

What touches me about this orchid is its quiet resilience. Orchids do not bloom overnight. They require patience, care and time to flourish. In some ways, I feel my own journey through Buddhism has been similar. Courage did not appear instantly. Confidence did not come overnight. But through prayer, encouragement and continuous effort, I slowly became someone stronger than I ever imagined I could be.

Like a flower blooming in its own season, perhaps dreams also come into our lives in their own timing.

To the women reading this — whether you are Buddhist or not — I hope you never underestimate yourself. No matter our age or circumstances, I believe we all deserve happiness, and that it is never too late to continue growing, dreaming and blooming in our own way.