Skip to main content

Not Looking for Faults is a form of Love

Not looking for faults — especially in the teacher — is a form of love.

This is not blind obedience.

This is maturity.

Because when we are truly learning, our mind is focused on the teaching, not the teacher.

When we fixate on a teacher’s flaws, we close the very door through which wisdom wants to enter.

But when we choose to see the essence rather than the imperfections, we elevate ourselves.

This is Love Intelligence in action.

Care

Care means honouring the value before judging the vessel.

Every teacher is human — with biases, stories, and limitations.

Yet the teaching can still be powerful, life-changing, and exactly what we need at that moment.

Courage

Courage is the willingness to learn even when the teacher does not match our expectations.

It is the courage to say,

“Let me rise above personality and receive the wisdom that can transform my life.”

Connection

Connection means connecting to the truth, not the storyteller.

It is aligning with the message, not the messenger.

This is how real growth happens — through resonance, not resistance.

In Yijing, this is called seeing beyond the form.

In Love Intelligence, this is called loving the gift, not criticising the hand that offers it.

When we stop looking for faults, we open space for insight.

When we stop judging the teacher, we start transforming ourselves.

And that is the highest level of learning —

not when we perfect the teacher,

but when we perfect our ability to receive.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What an Executive Coach and Business Coach Does

The Secret Under the Mattress: Why would a 79-year Man Bet So Big on 4D?

It was 2007 when we discovered his secret. While moving my father’s mattress, we found them: heaps and heaps of Singapore Pools 4D tickets. They were stacked in layers, a paper trail of lost hopes. What shocked us most wasn’t just the volume, but the stakes. He wasn’t betting a few dollars for fun. He was punting hundreds of dollars per draw—nearly ten times a month. At the time, my siblings and I were furious. Our father was a 79-year-old retiree. We wondered, with a mix of anger and confusion, why a man at his stage of life would need to win such "big money." What was he going to do with the money? We saw it as a reckless habit, a sign of poor judgment in his final years.  Some of us would say, "If I were to give him money to buy 4D, why don't I use the money and buy 4D myself?  At least I have better discipline".  It has taken me two decades, and the experience of raising my own three grown-up children, to finally see the truth that was hidden under that matt...

Head Bleeding when the Chair Falls

The Weight of Silence: What Were We Really Arguing About? My earliest memories are punctuated by the sound of shouting. In 1970, when I was barely 6 years old, I stood as a small witness to the fierce quarrels between my father and my late eldest brother Kah Yang (he passed away in 1971 at the age of 17). As I grew up, these contradictions became the soundtrack of our lives, usually centered around our family's shoe shop and clothing stalls in Chinatown. In the court of family opinion, the verdict was almost always the same: my father was "wrong." He was judged as a man who didn't fulfill his role, who wasn't "burdening" enough for the family’s success. But as I look back from the vantage point of 2026, I have to ask: Was that actually true? Let me finally put to rest what my father did right: the truths that were buried under decades of criticism: Unseen Labor: He worked grueling, long hours. I remember him hauling boxes of goods and equipment to set u...