About Me

Hello there, welcome! I am Mabel, Cai Lei. I am a dreamer. I am a seeker. I practice Mindful Self-Compassion And I write poems. And most of all, I am a student of love. I am not a teacher, or a therapist, Or a specialist of any sort. In fact, I do not have a job And I have not been well. I am a vulnerable human being, And I am here to share. I am here to share The joy, sorrow, anger and fear that my heart feels, Moments of despair and delight, Struggling and surrendering That I experience on my journey, And the complexity and simplicity of my messy human life. I am here to share my heart, A really vulnerable one. And a really brave one, And this is what it always wants to do, When it feels safe enough. It is that simple. And now, the below is for our logical mind. I am a middle aged woman living in Singapore with my family. I was born and grew up in China until I was 19 years old and I have lived in Singapore since then. I am a quiet person and I enjoy being in nature. People in my neighbourhood may have noticed that I like to take strolls outside and stare at the sky, flowers, trees and birds. I am not working. I was an IT professional quite some years ago. I stopped working because of a health issue and I stayed at home to be with my young children. In recent years, my children have grown to be more independent and I started exploring what I want to do with my life. I have wanted to be a counsellor, a therapist and a teacher of Mindful Self-Compassion. I tried really hard and none of these has worked out so far. Instead, I started to experience serious fatigue and overwhelming emotional pain as well as physical pain that I could not explain. At the end of 2021, I had to stop all my efforts in trying to do something meaningful and just rested at home. I also started to feel increasing difficulty talking with people including close ones. I did not know what’s going on with me and I did not know how to be with others. At the end of 2022, I finally became aware that what I have been experiencing might be depression. Currently I am taking medications and on the bumpy road of recovery. It is during this time of frustration, bewilderment and loneliness, a time of intense struggle with living, I began to write poems, in ways that I have not planned or expected. I am humbled by the gifts I am bestowed upon, and I want to share them with the world.

About My Poems

My poems are not mine. They are the stars in the night sky That shine my path So that I can walk on with More confidence and courage. My poems are not mine. They have been sleeping in My body and my soul, And woken up one day by A mysterious call That my logical mind could not understand. My poems are not mine. They are the hum, sigh, cry, laughter And the angry roar Of my vulnerability Which has been hidden in plain sight Waiting to be seen, heard, Embraced, protected, cherished And breathed As the very essence of my being And all beings. My poems are not mine. They are co-created with Teachers who have inspired and guided me, Friends with whom I have practiced together, Everyone I have met on my journey, Authors of the books that I have read and whom I have never met, And you, my dear reader, who are reading this poem right now. Without any of you, there will not be these poems. My poems are not mine. Every single word that I use Is not mine. I just put them together, And they become uniquely mine, Words from my heart. My poems are really not mine. They are yours, They are hers, They are his, They are everyone’s. Because our hearts are made of the Same stuff.

About My Work

The groundwork seems to be officially laid in October 2019, when I attended the first module of the Inner Child Integration Therapist training which comprised 6 modules and would last for one and half years. Shortly after, I attended a Mindful Self-Compassion workshop which I had always wanted to attend once I became aware of the course. I was excited and I was really tired too. During one of the guided practices, I fell half asleep, and that was when I saw two layers of ice sheets, one on top of another with a gap between them. And there was a child in that gap. She was walking on thin ice, sliding this way and that way, trying hard not to fall into the icy sea under her feet. The ice at the top layer was so thick that the suffering was completely obscured. It dawned on me that this child struggling alone in darkness and coldness is me. Two years later, I drew the image using a technique called “Non-dominant hand drawing” which I learned from my therapist training program. As I continued my journey, I began to understand this frightened little child is my vulnerability calling me home. I also began to understand my purpose has everything to do with loving my vulnerability. And that is the hardest thing for me. I want to have a happy and productive life, and I blame my vulnerability for not being able to achieve what I want. I have been feeling tired beyond words, and I won’t give up trying all means to “cure” my vulnerability as if it was some kind of terminal illness. Vulnerability is who we are. And we are afraid of being vulnerable, precisely because we are vulnerable. How can we ever untie this tight knot that we are in? How can we protect our vulnerability from violences and exploitations, and from being turned into violences and exploitations? How can we respect our vulnerability’s immense power, used for both creating and destroying? How can we cherish our vulnerability as our most precious present? I dream that my poems become the voices of vulnerability, and the Shelter of the Hearts that I am building here along with many others become a warm and safe space for vulnerability to be breathed, seen and heard, and let the answers reveal themselves. However, only with the support of others, these dreams stand a possibility, because of vulnerability. Please support my work. I thank my husband for helping me build this website so that I may share my poems, my heart and my dreams with the world. And I also thank him for supporting me so that I could be doing what I am doing. Last updated: March 2024