Event Horizon, B-Side

An event horizon is a line on the horizon of a black hole where there is no turning back, so it's also known as a point of no turning back. But that means every second of our lives are mini event horizons. This is the flipside of this year's story, or accumulation of stories.

I've gained a lot and lost a lot this year, but I still believe I stand to gain a lot more. Much more. It was a rollercoaster ride start of the year, and quite frankly it was super exciting. I've done so many things I didn't think I'd ever do, twisted and turned my life in ways I've never imagined before. Most importantly, I met a few people that turned out to be very important in my life. For the opportunities to get these people into my life, I'm forever grateful.

In saying that, it hasn't been a walk in the park either. As I said, from Easter onwards work got insane, and it distorted me in ways I didn't know possible. As I said, my passion for people wore out, something I never thought possible. Luckily it didn't poison my roots. I still have great passion for a select very few people in my life. For them I would put my neck on the line if need be. Some of them know it, some of them may not know it yet. It doesn't matter. What matters is that my roots are still there, and that's why I said I still stand to gain more than what I've lost even now.

It had been a very intense year. I cannot say this enough. I have experienced so many things I didn't think I would ever experience, taken steps I didn't think I would ever take. I took chances, some wilder than others. But what else would you do if you're desperate for change? Some of these chances would change my life forever, and I hope the effectual ones are the ones I'm hoping for. But even that is a risk I'm taking. What if the wrong things become big? Or if the right things become big in the wrong way? When you put financial investments it can only go down to zero at worst. But when you put your heart on the line, especially a tin man like me, things can easily go deep south of zero. The problem is, I want to live. I don't want to stay stagnant and live peacefully and uneventfully. Let's really live. I have jumped emotional cliffs this year, and I hope I wouldn't end up at the bottom of all of them. As the year comes to a close, the cliffs don't get any softer. In fact, they get taller and harder, the gamble gets bigger, the chances get smaller, the land gets tougher, the weather gets bitter, but the life? The life gets closer to God.

I got up an hour early this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. The melancholy from last night still hung in the air for me. Out loud I pleaded with God. I didn't ask for an easier ride. I only confessed that I can't do this. There is no way I'll survive these life decisions, both public and secret. In my mind I thought I saw a tip of a blade. I stood on the tip, and everything else was white. All I could think of was, I need to hang on to God. That's the only way I'll get through this. There's absolutely nothing I can do to ensure my success. Imagine working your entire life to save up for a great retirement, and then on your way home from your last day of work you get hit by a drunk truck driver. Nothing I can do can save me. I'm responsible to do the best of my capacity, yes, but in the end nothing is sure. My only chance of being sure of anything is to hold on to God, because this rollercoaster sure ain't gonna get any slower.

From that point a song came into my head. I got out of bed, found the song, and sat there rocking out in my heart. I felt peaceful. Rockers never die. It felt amazing to me the simple event that God reminded me of a song whose lyrics spoke to me right where I was. It's a small gesture but to me this morning that was super huge. It told me that God was right there, and he cared. That has got to beat everything else. He may not give me everything I want, but he cares, and he got me covered. I will still feel pain and taste blood, yes, and some things will still hurt really really bad, but my world wouldn't end without his agreement. And I still believe he got the best for me in mind.

In the end, I know I'm facing not just giants, but giants of fire. Who knows what next year would throw at me. Even worse, who knows what else will I get myself into. Let it be known that I'm shaking in my pants in overwhelming anticipation. But let it also be known that I stand tall, looking forwards and upwards. I'm not Ali, but in the presence of my giants I can thump my chest all the same, while I look at them in the eye and declare: I got God.

In everything I do
I'm holding on to you

And when my world is falling down,
in You I will be found

Event Horizon

As the year draws to a close, I feel the need to make a record here of the state that I am in, a short history not of actual events but of metaphysical results, to be recorded here for a digital eternity.

I have gone through a lot this year. It was a whirlwind start, peaking at around Easter. After Easter work took over, and then it was a whirlwind of a different kind right to this moment. The fact that I have work running in the background while I'm putting these thoughts into words speaks for itself.

This year I've gained much, and I've lost much. I regret bitterly the fact that I have lost quite a big part of my humanity. Since Easter I have become a cold and machine-efficient man. I do what I like to do first and foremost, and I hardly ever stepped out of my comfort zone for others when I didn't feel like it. I regret to say that I have lost a lot of patience, a lot of general kindness, and a lot of love for the general public. I realize fully that operating right beneath my skin is a well-oiled machine geared for survival. I have evolved to put smooth-sailing and trouble-free safe day-to-day journey first and foremost in my daily life, without even thinking about it. I can blame that on so many things, like work, but I think that's just looking for an excuse. I am proud of what I have become in terms of skills in various areas in my life, but I very much regret that I have lost a lot of humanity in the process.

I found myself today sitting in the office, clicking away, making some progress in whatever I was doing. I began to wonder what it's like to live a different life. I wondered how my coming holiday is gonna feel like. The hot and humid air running through my nose, down my throat, filling my lungs. The strange and familiar cold white floor tiles. The dim white light. My faithful dog. The fact that everything is smaller and shorter. The fact that I can't see outside from my room, and so making staying at home the whole day a sanity-endangering exercise. And then I wonder what it's like if I overhaul my life and move back over, a Western-cultured kid in an Asian skin from a backwater Western country living in a poverty-stricken Asian megapolitan. An irony on so many levels at once. I'd end up a stranger in my own country, and nobody would know.

At this stage I'm a bit sick of my life at the moment. Many things are going right, even great. But at the same time so many things can't keep going the way they are without gnawing into my sanity. Therefore something needs to happen. Something needs to be made to happen. This coming holiday is the beginning. I haven't been home in nearly four years. In Jakarta terms, that's nearly an eternity. But then I thought, why wait? It begs the question, what can I do now? I think, not much. As I sit here in my comfortable multi-function room, I feel that my senses have dulled. I have no more creativity for things. I try to get up and run, and it feels like I haven't moved in ages. It's almost like there's nothing left for me to do in this country, in this setup. It really feels like I need something big, need to make something happen, need to take a huge step, brave a big risk, dare a big dream. It's not that I don't see problems around me to be solved, but it's that I have no answer to offer them. I found myself asking the same questions as people around me, and I have no answer even for myself, let alone them.

I read today how vehemently people stand opposed to Westfield's plans to upgrade St Lukes to twice the size. I understand the traffic complaints, no problem. But then came the argument that it will kill the smaller shopping strips. Well of course it will! People here prefer tranquil little neighborly things, while I prefer them big and steely. I don't know if it's just me or if it's an effect of being an Asian living here for more than a decade, but that's beside the point. This is New Zealand, and although her character is changing she is still mostly her old self. And there's nothing wrong with that. Not all countries in the world need to be big and built around networks of concrete jungles. I understand that much, I respect that much. But I want much more than that, and I have only a limited time to live. So maybe, just maybe, it's high time I move on.

I feel the need to emphasize here that my life is, on all accounts, going just fine. It's just that I want more than just fine, much much more. In what form this will take, I don't know. I hope this coming holiday will be a breakthrough for me. I still believe. I'm still hopeful. I'm still convinced this is not all there is to life. I still have faith that there are invisible bridges out there, undiscovered pathways, and unseen treasures. I still believe things can happen. I'm not a hopeless case.

The heart is a bloom
shoots up through the stony ground

It's a beautiful day!

Life is like.....

Results of meditations of a stressed out IT guy. Here we go....

Life is like Super Mario. You jump head-first into question marks, and various things happen. Sometimes you get nothing. Sometimes you get things that will force you to grow. Sometimes you get things that will empower you, often by setting you aflame, after which you'll be spitting fire at anything and everything for as long as you can. Sometimes you'll come upon a star. You will feel invincible for a while, as if the world can do you no harm. But unfortunately, that feeling wouldn't last. Sometimes you'll hit things that would threaten to take away everything you've worked so hard for, making you feel small. And in very rare occasions you'll find an extra life, which is really nothing more than the stuffs that forces you to grow, only in a different color. You run like the wind, you jump into the clouds, you climb dodgy veins into the sky, you walk through sewers, you swim in deadly oceans, you jump over sea of fire, but sometimes in the end the princess is in another castle. And life goes on.

Life is like Counter Strike. Sometimes no matter who you run with, no matter how deadly you're packing, you'll still get knocked out by a guy sitting calmly far away waiting to take shots at poor little buggers like you. Repeatedly.

Life is like Left4Dead. Yes you're not alone, but sometimes the sheer idiocy of others around you make you wish or feel that you're alone. And the enemies aren't much better. The fat ones will tell the smaller ones all about you and set them to gang you up. The small ones backstab you, or simply jump on you and try to get you to go where they want you to go. Sometimes everything makes you feel that your best friend is a shotgun.

Life is like Tower Defense. You face onslaught after onslaught, and because they get harder everytime you think you're making progress. One day the biggest onslaught comes, and you slay them too. And then.... nothing. In the illusion of making progress, you've lost sight that all you've been doing all these times were just surviving, an utter waste of time.

Life is like Fear. You're not the only one with ghosts from your past haunting you, but a lot of the times you're the one who has to clean up after other people's mess. And yours. At the same time. Repeatedly.

Life is like Fight Night. It feels good imagining beating the crap out of your problems, but when all is said and done, it's all only in your head. You haven't knocked down anybody yet.

Life is like Sudoku. We spend a lot of time trying to fit everything in without anybody stepping on anybody else's toes. But most of the time nothing ever goes that smooth. People will go into each other's rows, including yours, and make things uncomfortable for everyone.

Life is like Shadow of the Collosus. Sometimes the world feels barren and empty. You're fired up because you got a loved one to rescue. You braved loneliness and talking to animals to defeat the demons in your life. You think that when they're all defeated, your princess will wake up and everything will be sweet. Little did you know, spending so much time fighting your demons might turn you into one yourself.

Last but not least, life is like The Secret of Monkey Island. Sometimes, the solution to everything, that one key to banish the ghosts of your past, is just a good root beer.

Don't You Know That All My Heroes Died?

A conversation tonight made me realize that I have no role models anymore. The double-realization is that how quick I concluded that fact. I got no one to look up to these days. Nobody's perfect, nobody's even nearly perfect anymore, and that's fine. I like it like that. I like that I can pick and choose and learn from whoever I find light in. Suddenly flaws become strengths. In people's flaws I see their strengths, and learn all the same. By tracing their shadows I find their light. But is that it? Are there other implications to the fact that it it looks like all my heroes have died?

That's where Bon Jovi comes in. This is now the second time a Tuesday night lead me to a Bon Jovi binge. There is something here. I guess a gathering of people trying to open their lives, no matter that it's ever so slight, inevitably open the doors to memories of a time long ago when I had more of this kind, more often and much deeper. But it's been so long, and here I am so very far into the future but still talking of the same thing. I feel pathetic, like the guy in Byousoku, unable to part from my past and move forward to make a new history.

So what is it between Tuesday nights and Bon Jovi? And. That's right. "And" implies a joining, an act of addition, a formation of togetherness. I have no more heroes. That tells me that I have nobody to inspire and influence me on that level anymore. Seen in terms of circles of influence, I stand alone in the middle. Despite everything, I still do feel that I stand alone, fight alone, completely open to nobody. "And" is a significant issue in my life right now.

The thing with rock music is that it speaks to me. Long ago we used to refer to Jon Bon Jovi as Pastor, due to the way we sang along with him, and found ourselves holding our hands on our hearts as we sang his chorus. His songs spoke to us, back in those days. Maybe these songs still do. Maybe I should heed their voices. Theirs was not the only voice to preach this "And" thing to me. Wouldn't be the last either, I think. We were not designed to be alone. It's really hard for me to voluntarily open up and stay vulnerable in this world I live in right now. But this ain't what it's supposed to be, not what life is supposed to look like. There has to be a better way to live than this.

I'm walking around,
just a face in the crowd,
trying to keep myself out of the rain

But the stars ain't out of reach

Someday I'll Be Saturday Night

I dunno what's it got to do with it, but tonight's lifegroup somehow lead me to go on a quickie Bon Jovi binge run. I plugged in my supposedly-pretty-good headphones, fired up my old-school Bon Jovi collection, and closed my eyes. For some reasons I went mellow first. I first noticed the drum beats and how I play a lot of these beats now, though I haven't really been listening to these songs for a long time. I guess the subconscious really works. These songs influenced me much longer than the time I spent listening to them. Then the lyrics slowed me down. I'm so tired. God, I'm so tired.

I know I've been running myself ragged since Easter. I couldn't even sit down and read a book anymore. I got such a short attention span these days that I read a few words ahead everytime I try to read a book. I can no longer sit down and watch a movie at home. The longest things I can sit down and watch are boxing matches, which are usually an hour long, but that's only because they're split into three-minute rounds. I'm tired of running around all the time, a rat in a rat race. But I can't stop. Not easily anyway.

These songs remind me of that, of a time when I can relax. It's just a thought in my head, a huge chunk of data in my frontal lobe. I remember these beats by heart, and the lyrics not much further away. They almost instantly brought me back to those scenes. The city lights, the wet roads, the lonely CBD, the Starbucks, the nowhere-in-particular, the best car a man can have. The city is still there, the wet roads repeat themselves, the CBD is still lonely, the Starbucks are all still there, and the car I can get again. But the time will not come back. The memories will not revive. The midnight sing-alongs, the stomach-hurting laughters. God knows what we laughed about. The 1am BK, the 2am McD sundae. The cheap-ass [aka: free] fireworks session by the beach. The 4am Symmonds St. The kebab takeouts by the rugby field. We will never be the same, and we should never be the same again. I don't wish those times to come back. But the memories remain. I guess this is what true "home"sickness feels like. What do you do when your only experience of home is one spot in time? This is loneliness. The longing to belong, for a metaphysical place to rest a soul, a psychological cushion you know you can always count on. As it turns out, I'm not made of stone afterall, and this wolf isn't all fangs.

It's true, I gave love a bad name. Always. This is real life, and it ain't no bed of roses, but I'd die in a blaze of glory if that's what it takes. A lot of times I shout, "Hey God! Give me something for the pain!" There's no one else but us these days. But we live on a prayer, and we keep the faith. Most days feel like a Monday to me, but someday I'll be Saturday night.

The memories are of a time long gone. But I'd be lying if I say those weren't great times. When I'm tired, when I got no one to talk to, when there's no one I trust, when I feel weak and mellow [which isn't very often these days], the memories come back and I have to admit, I try to relive them in my head in vain hope to gain some strength and recover some comfort. I'd be lying if I say I don't miss those times. But at the same time I don't wish them back, because that would de-value them. They are best kept as memories, to remind me such a thing was possible. There is a home. It is possible to have a home, to be completely and utterly comfortable with people, to accept and be accepted all the same. It is possible to live among trusted people. I started writing this on a rather down state. I thought, there ain't no time to waste, nobody left to blame, nobody else but us these days. But by the end of it, I felt that I've seen a light somewhere. The stars ain't out of reach.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the memories.

Hey man!
I'm alive, and I'm taking each day a night at a time.
I'm feeling like a Monday,
but someday I'll be Saturday night!

Growing Up and Living A Little

I thought I was gonna celebrate turning 28 by a mini-repeat of 2004: bushwalking. In fact, it was looking like a precise replica of 2004, with bad weather whipping the country and forecast looking bad. On Friday night, I was halfway between letting go and kinda wishing for a repeat of 2004. It turned out different, into something I don't quite know how to put into words that make sense. But anyway, here goes.

When I saw on Friday night that the forecast for Saturday turned for the worse, my mind came back to 2004. I didn't initially thought of 2004 necessarily, when I planned on how to celebrate my bday. It was nothing more than a passing thought in my head. At about 7pm Friday night I was ready to call it quits. I stood in the shower for quite a while, mulling over it. At that point, I was a few days into mulling over my openness to receive, in anything. Under the shower I thought, why would God change the weather for my bday? It's just a small thing, nothing big, nothing important. Why would God lift a finger for that? But then all my few days' [or maybe weeks'] worth of discussions with Red came up, the whole issue about me needing to receive more, open myself up to love more. On Thursday night I dreamed of nearly getting stuck in a narrow lift. I'm claustrophobic, so those five seconds constituted a nightmare. So under the shower I thought, what, don't I believe God would save me from things like that? Then I remembered that incident on Easter Sunday, when I heard God strongly told me, "Let me die for you!" He might've even said, "Let me do SOMEthing for you!" So under the shower on Friday night I took an unusual step. I let myself be vulnerable and asked God to make Saturday morning clear. I have to admit though, I was half-hearted. Half of me felt really really bad for asking for such a selfish thing.

Well, it didn't stop raining on Saturday morning. So I cancelled the bushwalk and decided to just go yumcha, such was the plan B anyway. But the Plan B stopped there, I had nothing else after. At that point I began to get a bit nostalgic. You see, when memories of 2004 came back to me on Friday night, I loaded up the 2004 documentary that I made. It reminded me of the good times we had, the great friends I had, the faces I haven't seen in a long time, and started pondering, how did I got here six years later? This sure wasn't the place I thought I'd found myself in six years later. I noted at the end of the clip that the whole bushwalk thing back in 2004 was conceived at 1am in a BK. There's no way that would happen again right now. I kinda miss those moments now, that state of self, those friends, that atmosphere, that fire.

But let's continue with the story. We decided to go bowling, only to find a whole suburb of pre-teens occupying the bowling alley with a few parents. I knew it was the end of it for us when I saw a mom with a huge box full of snacks. Even as we went out I still saw cars after cars full of kids being cattled into the place. It's not a nice place to be. So we left, decided to grab a few movies from my hard drive, and went off to Andrew's. Now, we haven't done this in a long long time, so I didn't know how it would go. Quite frankly, I didn't care, I couldn't think of any better way to spend the rest of the day anyway.

When I revisited my old clip of 2004, it brought me back to Linkin Park. This wasn't the political and anti-war Linkin Park, this was something from 2004. I thoroughly enjoyed the tunes, but couldn't help noticing that the music was all so very teen-angst-driven. It made me chuckle, and my chuckling made me think. Why did I chuckle anyway? Here's where God's sense of humor came in.

This whole thing of me not being open enough, of me being too hard, when I chuckled at old-school Linkin Park I came to a realization to the link, and it's full of holes and maybes. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve more. These days I keep it to myself. Completely. I used to want to say things to the world, to make stuff, to live out loud. These days I just wanna survive another day's work. I consider anything beyond that as unneccessary. I have become apathetic, bitter, and passive. I'm still convinced that teen-angst is selfish, but maybe I've went to the other side too far. In my attempt to live and live more efficiently, I've stopped living.

Having fun should be the easiest thing to do. But in fact, it's probably the hardest thing in my life these days. I asked myself that, and quickly I thought of playing drums. But that's where it stopped. I couldn't figure out what I do for fun apart from that these days. I've stopped enjoying anything else, pretty much. And this isn't new. Back around Easter, Ko Den told me to relax. At the time I thought, yes I know I need to learn to relax, I'm insomniac afterall. I had no idea that it goes beyond relaxation, that I'm having trouble having fun at all. And having fun is important.

When God speaks to you through Vince Vaughn and Jean Reno, you know for sure God is having fun with you.

I need to relax more, not in terms of time-use, but in my psyche. I need to live much less for work. I have to work for a living, not live day in day out to survive another day at work. On the few days when I'm supposed to celebrate that I have lived another year, I was reminded that I should start living again, that maybe parts of me have been dead for a while. Scripture says guard your heart because out of it comes the spring of life. What if I've guarded it too well? Sure it's not attacked, but it's not used either. I hardly ever drink from it these days. I thought our role here is to distribute living water to the world. Maybe I have forgotten that I have the right to drink it too, and drink it as much as I want. I have forgotten to be selfish. I'm convinced God has blessed me enough, much more than I deserve. But what if God also cares about my happiness? What if I take this life more seriously than God? How the heck can you take life more seriously than God, you ask? That's exactly the point, you can't. So if God wants me to relax more, does that mean I've been over-serious?

Maybe life doesn't have to go as hard as it can be. Maybe I don't have to be as efficient as I'd like to be. Maybe this whole story doesn't make any sense to anyone, doesn't even come close to saying everything my heart has to say, and it's okay. Maybe in my excitement to celebrate another year of life I have died a bit more. Maybe God celebrated my life with me by telling me to live a bit more. The heart is a very vulnerable organ, and maybe that's okay. A steel heart wouldn't beat, its structure is too rigid to do that. Maybe being honest, in the face of weakness and soul's selfishness, is necessary sometimes. And even if it's not necessary, maybe that's okay too. Maybe it's okay to say what you really want, no matter how embarassing it is. Maybe it's not want, it's the heart's true longing. Maybe on the surface they look and sound and taste the same, they just end up in different places and satiating different thirsts. Maybe I'm more than self-sufficient enough, and now I need to un-learn some of that a little. Maybe just accepting the situation and stop letting your heart wish for a better world for yourself is not the adult thing to do, just the passive way to live. Maybe it's high time to be more honest, more open, and embrace my neglected self: the heart part. Maybe the heart part is the hard part. Maybe I need to ask for more stuffs more often. Maybe I need to learn that God cares about me more than I care about me, and maybe I don't believe that. Or maybe I do believe that, but just too guilt-ridden to be convinced of it in my daily life. Maybe God doesn't like it when I'm like that. Maybe I need to let my heart live a little.

Maybe the Father wants to give good things to the son, but this son refuses to ask and accept. Maybe this son refuses to feel that he is loved. Maybe this son needs to be more honest with the world, with the Father, with his heart, and with himself.

I wanna feel
I wanna feel like I'm somewhere I belong

Glitches And Detours

I decided to drop the idea of transcribing my Hillsongs notes into a coherent narrative that I can put here daily. I just got too lazy and they don't make sense anyway, once rearranged like that. Instead, they will stay in my physical notebook, ready to dish out when the time calls for it.

I learned something new today. As I drove home, the van's engine was cut off just before I got to the motorway. Luckily I managed to get it restarted before the traffic moved along. Five minutes later, I felt the pedal was getting heavy just as I was climbing up harbor bridge. Luckily it didn't die there. Down the bridge I went, and to the side of the road because the engine had cut off again. The first time around I thought it was battery problem, because that's what I had with my car previously. The second time around, I realized that I have ran out of gas. I was about three minutes away from a petrol station, so I kicked it to start and fought along. Ten meters later, I knew I wasn't going to make it. So there I was at the side of the road. The solution was quite simple, just walk to the petrol station, borrowed a container of some sort, get a few liters of diesel, and walk back. Problem was, there was about 40m left of the motorway, without a footpath. So, one block away from a police station, I broke the law. Twice. Everything went as planned. Nobody broke into the van. I didn't see a single cop. And the van is up and running now. The whole ordeal took a bit less than half an hour.

Looking back now, an hour later, it feels funny. But an hour ago, I sure wasn't laughing. It wasn't a dire situation. I knew exactly what to do, I had lots of time, the sun was still up, and it wasn't raining like it had the whole day. There were so many other things that could've gone wrong but didn't. It could've been raining. I could've gotten hit by a car on those 40-60m of illegally walking on a motorway. Afterall, it's illegal for a reason. I could've met a cop and had to explain all that stuff. Instead, everything went absolutely fine. That's God right there.

That was just a small thing. The biggest thing about it is that I've never experienced that ever before. Well, now I have. I learned something new today. Sometimes things don't go as planned. Sometimes I have to take a detour, an extra half an hour to the journey. Sometimes I have to do things I've never done before to keep going forward. In a tidy culture here in New Zealand, a detour is an annoyance, a disturbance in the force. Not always so, I learned today. So the next time things don't go as planned, I will remember that it may not be so bad afterall.

Hillsongs 2010: Day One

Since I had the good sense to *not* write these blogs every day every night after every full day of conference, I'm going to write these things based on my notes, day per day. I took these notes continually during the day, so the sense of time is continually present. Here goes.

Day 1, 5/7/10

Empty station, sterile, cold, underground tunnels. Fifteen minutes after I landed on this city, the metropole hides. It's 10 degrees here, the screen says, but it feels much warmer than the 12 degrees back home. Nevertheless, it's good public transport.

It's Monday morning. Tired faces are everywhere, breaking out through their owners' attempts to hide, making them look even more tired. The buildings stand tall, somber grey, tidy, imposing, and arrogant. So depressing, so metropolis, accurate commentary and fitting company for the countless faces crawling beneath them, slaving away for their financial masters, imprisoned by their own prisons, their own inability to choose a different life for themselves. They could live cheaper elsewhere, this town is expensive to live in. But they're bound here by the invisible threads tying up their hearts, binding their soul to this city.

Sydney is like an old game. I know the story by heart, I know the bosses, mini-bosses, and and I know where the save points are. Yet, everytime I come back here I find something new. This place changes like crazy. I also change, and that makes all the difference in perception.

First thing I ate: Krispy Kreme
Then: Max Brenner

Waste no time. Wanderlust has no patience.

The tall buildings of yesteryear are no longer as impressive as I remember them to be. The giants did not fall. The grasshopper just grew up a bit. Some giants still impressed me mightily though.

Darling Harbour have changed immensely. Pictures can't do it justice. The bridge I spent hours meditating on is still impressive. This place have really turned into an event central now.

My feet are hurting. My muscles and legs are fine, only my feet are hurting like crazy. I got to the hotel nearly 9am, but check-in was 2pm. After nearly four hours of walking around, my feet are just about to kill me. I should've spared two days of doing completely nothing here. This city is amazing. It's depressing, yes, but it's amazingly depressing.

The train is an honest machine. Beyond the business-like CBD, the in-between places showed a depressing scene. Desolate graffittied walls, abandoned buildings, rubbles all over the place. Cost or result of development, we'll never know. To the average slave that dwells here, this face is probably the daily reality.

This year's conference opening is not something that I can describe. But it is something I'll remember for a long time. All musical instruments, they're not tuned to each other. There are hundreds of keys in a piano, none of them are tuned to each other. They are all tuned to the one scale fork. When I heard that, I knew this year would be special. Rather than thinking long and hard how to get along with this guy, how to work together better with that girl, how to make a team work, how to run this or that gig better etc, I should just tune in to the Fork. If the whole team tune to the same Fork, we would all be tuned just fine to each other.

The thing with momentum is, one way to lose it is by forgetting why you're moving on the first place. When you get so lost in the process that you forget what this whole mess is for, it's easy to burn out and stop. Even when you're moving fast, there is grace to momentum. Things happen when you're moving forward, some of which have nothing to do with you. Copying others doesn't work, because everybody's different and facing different situations. I have to live my own momentum, my own motions, adapting to my own problems. But I think the best news is that just because you've lost it doesn't mean you can't get it back. The force of momentum is measured by how much it takes to stop you. So the more opposition I get, the bigger the momentum. Just because you're doing everything right doesn't mean nothing bad will happen to you. Stuff happens to good people and bad people alike.

This all started with Steve's "Don't avoid the hard stuffs" from the week before. I'm sure he didn't know what Brian Houston was gonna preach on that opening evening. The puzzle is falling together here.

Walk On Clouds

I was standing on a carpark today, waiting for the humongous amount of fried rice that I hope will carry me through to lunchtime tomorrow. As I was standing there I watched the clouds go by, deep eternal blue in the background, and dark green trees in front. It's amazing what these things can do to you. I watched the deep blue sky and marvelled at how my eyes can't seem to touch it. My eyes itch, like they were expecting to hit something but they can't. It's as if the sky was there but you have no proof that it's there. The clouds were running ahead, I could feel the winter breeze but the sun was up and it wasn't terribly chilly. I watched the trees, their branches shivered in the wind, as if they're feeling colder than me. I began to marvel at the details that my eyes caught. Now, I don't have perfect eyesight, and haven't been for more than maybe 15 years now. But I think what I have is pretty amazing still. I felt the breeze on my face. I took a deep breath and felt the cool air fill my lungs. I carried two cellphones in my pocket, one of which was the reason I was standing there alone instead of with my friends at that time. I felt my cheap jacket protecting my torso from the wind, my cheap haircut keeping my head warm, and my shoes letting me stand there comfortably. All these things, they brought me to a question: Is this it?

All these things that I have, what are they for? Sure, they are there for me to enjoy, gifts from my heavenly Father. But is that it? Is that all there is to life and all that I've been given? I'd like to think that everything exists for me. Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we die. Really? I have a reasonably good job, get paid reasonably well, spend unreasonably low because unreasonably I live rent-free. For the past half a year my goal in life has mostly been to save up money to cover for the time that I lost in university. Save up, climb up the corporate ladder, jump up when the opportunity comes, because I've had a very late start and now I have to catch up with everyone else. Side question: who is "everyone else"?

It's been a while now since I've aspired to do anything more than just surviving work and saving as much money as I can, allowing space to improve the material quality of my life here and there. I bought a better car reasonably cheap. It's been quite a while since last time I had to think about whether or not I should spend money on coffee. Being single, employed, and rent-free, four bucks a week seem somewhat small now. I'm now saving up to set myself up some passive income, hopefully one apartment soon and three apartments in less than five years. Along the way add to that a better job, twice the pay in five years time, and hopefully a girlfriend. But is this it? Everything that I have in me, let alone outside of me, is this all they are for? I haven't taken much risks lately, haven't thought of higher things, haven't considered anything that isn't for me. I've been selfish, and I know it. It's comfortable, furnishing your own cave, adding things into it, putting more cushion on your bed. These things, they help you sleep at night. But what do you do when you're a fugitive chased by your own heart? What happens if one day your true heart catches up with you, and the true reasoon you exist breaks your shell open? To put it in the simplest way: Is my life meant for something more than just myself?

I've been quite comfortable lately. Yes I've had some really tough times at work since Easter, and I don't think it's gonna get easier there. But maybe it's time to stop playing victim, time to stop saying "I'm doing my best" because quite frankly I know I'm not. Maybe it's time to stop thinking "I'm doing what I'm supposed to do" because if that is true then why do I still feel guilty?

I think I still feel guilty because deep down I know this is my Ur, my Haran, and that somewhere out there in space and time unknown lies my Canaan. Unlike Abram, however, I haven't heard the voice that tells me to go out somewhere. But what if the call is not to a physical place, but to a spiritual place? What if the call is for me to get out of the cave of my heart, stop playing safe, stop saving my heart's limited energy, stop putting up so much defense, but instead start opening up again, start caring again, dare to be hurt again, dare to fail again without a sword in my arm ready just in case? How possible is it that maybe once the attitude of the heart is taken care of, the call will come and the doors will open?

Earlier this week I had a dream. There were about four-five people, one of which was an android, chasing something. I was privileged enough to be an eye in the sky, shadowing them as they went. They chased this thing all the way up to the mountains so high up that it went above the clouds. Then up the mountain they came to a dead end. They ended up on a cliff with pillars on them, as if once upon a time there was something there. At some distance away they saw this structure, I'm not sure what. It could've been something built on a cliff of a different mountain. It looked to me like a castle in the sky. The leader of the group [not sure male or female], as positive as ever, said "C'mon! Follow me! Just step where I stepped, and you'll be fine!" The group was, of course, not happy. But the leader kept on saying, "Trust me!" And then I was privileged again to see through each of their eyes. From the eyes of the leader I saw floating platforms that they could jump on, all the way to the other castle in the sky. After some thought, some people in the group could see it too, although some still could not. Then I went to the android's head and I couldn't see it. The android, because it had to calculate everything, couldn't see what the humans could. I heard it calculating over and over again, and came always to the same conclusion: there's nothing there. It struck me there. Not only calculations are not smart enough to see these things, they can also disable you from seeing. Your tools can be precisely the things that stop you. In the end, the group went anyway, like Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Everybody followed the leader's steps exactly. For those who could see it before, the platforms reveal themselves as they step on them. For those who couldn't, they looked down and all they saw was clouds. They couldn't explain how they're still there, but they couldn't deny that the leader was right afterall. At that point, all everybody could think of was just to follow the leader's steps exactly. How and why were no longer important. It wasn't a short journey either. It's not only scary to start, but it's also terrifying in the middle when you realize that you're doing something impossible and there's no turning back. It's those moments when you think, "What the heck have I gotten myself into...." But you have no choice but to keep going forward. In the end, they managed to get to the other end, all safe and nobody died, exactly like the leader said.

When I woke up I got the feeling that that was God. It's like God was insisting, "Trust me." "Just follow my steps, and you'll be fine. Wherever I'm telling you to go, I've been there before. I'll be walking just ahead of you." You can't expect any voice from heaven any clearer than that in this lifetime. Doesn't mean it's easy to do, though. So the challenge is there, the order is more or less there, the facility is pretty much guaranteed. In the end, the question remains:

What're you gonna do with this gift, dear child?
Get life, get love, get soul?
There is no reason to hide

The Man In The Iron

I wasn't gonna blog about this, but I guess this was a long time coming. Yes, okay, I have to say Ironman 2 was a flop from what I think is the normal person's perspective. It got a lot of bang, but got slow in the middle, super-anti-climactic finale, and the plot was negligible. But I'm not a normal person, I'm a fan, and a big one at that too. Since the plot was largely non-existent anyway, I don't think I'm in danger of giving any spoilers. As usual with movies lately, I appreciate the jokes more than anything. In that department, I dare say Ironman 2 is second only to Batman. I think I read in Wired that this movie was made with fans in mind. That much was clear to me. Tony's line, "You wanna be war machine? Go ahead!" was a dead giveaway to me. That line wouldn't even register in a normal person's head. But I caught that line and I knew immediately the silver suit was gonna turn black. And turn black it did. I almost stood up and saluted.

But what I have the urge to talk about is not that. The one line that stuck with me [apart from War Machine's last joke] was when The War Machine dude came in to Tony's office and pleaded with him. "You don't have to do this alone, Tony!" Then, contrary to normal hero standards, Tony Stark didn't just repented and did the right and warm and fuzzy thing, like starting to trust his friends more and stuffs. Instead, like a normal person, he waved him off, "Contrary to popular belief, I know what I'm doing."

That line kept on going in my head for the past two hours or so. "You don't have to do this alone!" I have no idea how many times in my life have I been on the transmitting end of that line. But if I may be honest for a second here, everytime I say that to myself, nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. I would try to trust people more, involve myself with other people's "business" more, but I would always quickly high-tail it out of there, away from their personal sphere, and mind my own business. In my head I understand this completely. I need to need other people more, otherwise 20-30 years from now I'll die a lonely man, most probably in a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. I don't have to do this alone, I know that. I don't have to live life alone, don't have to shoulder all my burden alone, don't have to think through my future alone. I know all that. But you know, maybe the hardest gate to break through is not on a guarded fortress. Maybe it is hardest when it's a door deep in the privacy of your heart, and you hold the key. Heavy artillery will bring any fortress down, but maybe there's nothing the physical world can do to turn that key hanging on the padlock of your heart.

I don't like people touching the drum kit when I'm setting up, especially when I'm about to play. I like to do it myself, I like to have everything exactly where I want them to be, and I don't like having to explain myself about any of it. Nobody else needs to know or be concerned, it's my throne. If they dare to comment, they better be a heck a lot better than me. My normal reply to an offer of help would be, "It's fine, I got it." I'm a sharp cold steel blade. The samurai lived off a great principle. The samurai is also extinct.

It's easy to tell people to open up. But I can't tell you how horrifying it is, even just the thought of opening up when your heart is on the line. "But I opened up my heart and all I did was bleed." I say amen to that, pastor Jon. But it has to change. I can't keep on like this. One day, the world will become too much for this one person. One day this guy will no longer have all the answers to all the questions. One day this guy will fall and there will be nobody there to help him up. Something better change before that day comes.

In the end, Tony Stark didn't actually end up trusting anybody else either. Nick Fury certainly didn't really get through to him. Tony Stark didn't end up being anybody's best buddy by the end of the movie, and I don't think that's much of a spoiler at all. But I'm not Tony Stark. I don't have a metal suit to hide in, rocket boots to float in the sky with when I'm lonely, a metal mask to hide my bloodshot eyes after an insomniac night, and I got no villains to beat up to make me feel good about myself when I'm doubting my self-worth. So I gotta do something else.

A thought just occurred to me, and this might just take the cake. This whole thing I've been talking about, in a very symbolic way, I think this was also being "talked about" in the movie. Early in the movie Jarvis said, "Ironically, sir, the thing that allows you to live longer is killing you at the same time." The thing that's keeping me alive, this false sense of security, the "I can handle it" attitude, is also killing me at the same time, by getting me more and more reliant on myself, more and more alone. "Everytime it is used it accelerates the damage to your body", as Jarvis put it. Notice where this "thing" was? It was inserted into Tony's heart. As long as he had that, his blood intoxicity kept on rising up. See what happens when your "heart" is sick? You become toxic. You change it over and over again, but as long you keep replacing it with the same thing, you'll just get more and more toxic in the end. Noticed what changed Tony Stark's life? A change of "heart".

Didn't think I could ever say that about Ironman.

A cheerful heart is a great medicine
But a sad heart crushes the bones

It is not good for a person to be alone

.... because if he falls, then who's gonna help him get back on his feet?

Walk On Air

There is this thing between me and heights. It's called Fear. I am known to fear tight narrow spaces, I'm claustrophobic. I'm also known to fear great heights, and not-so-great heights. This fact made today went really interesting.

So apparently some people decided to hook some wires and planks around some trees in a forest in Kumeu. Apparently they've been there for five years, and by a staff's own admission, not many people know them anyway. I went today fully expecting them to make me piss my pants. They didn't quite get there but they sure didn't disappoint.

Here's how it works. You go up a ladder, you grab on a wire, and walk along some cleverly-placed planks, rope, logs, wires, or combinations of them attached to various trees around the place, all the while always secured by not one but two locks to a thick wire to ensure gravity doesn't kill you. Repeat at different heights. That's about it. It's clever, simple, and a sure magnet for adrenaline junkies.

I'll be honest with you. Within the first two minutes I started thinking, what the heck am I doing here. The first course was probably two-three meters above the ground and I was scared out of my head. But of course, I wanted this to happen to begin with, that's why I was there in the first place, so I pushed ahead. At about the fifth obstacle I was still scared. In fact the fear never actually left me. But at that point, I no longer thought of quitting. I was there, up in the air, standing between two trees with a wire under my feet and another piece of wire I held on to at about chest level. My old breathing techniques came in handy as I forced myself to keep looking forward and not down. But that's kinda hard to do most times, when you're walking on planks set some width apart, they force you to look down to watch where you're stepping. Clever, as I said. By the second course I was finding my footing. I got used to breathing fast and gritting my teeth. I no longer hurried my steps. By the third course, my breathing techniques failed me, and I resorted to swearing black and blue into thin air. My "ssshhh...." were not attempts to calm myself down, I was swearing in acronym.

After the fourth course we took a break. This was a mistake. Then we got in there again for the second half of the thing, kinda like "the real thing". In the first thirty seconds of that I found the same quitting thoughts in my head again. I thought, I've done this before, only in slightly lower altitude, so there's no reason to stop now. I actually realized that they were recycling obstacle ideas at about course three, that all they've done is set up the same course slightly higher at every repetition. This had an amazing effect: the first time you go through something, you go through it really slow because you're really scared. The second time around, though it's higher, you don't take as much time because you're not that scared anymore, as long as the altitude increase is not huge. I think they lift things up about half a meter or a meter everytime. There's a lesson in there. The first time around you face a certain demon in your life, everything goes crazy. The next time you face it again, even if the stakes are higher, maybe it still scares you, but you've got the hang of it at that stage. It's no longer as paralysing as the first time.

When we were having a break, we noticed that most people that go through this go through them really fast. Most of them don't even hold on to anything. That's not recklessness either, it's perfectly safe. Life is so much easier once you believe that your fall, if you do fall, wouldn't be fatal. To me, I know the safety mechanisms are strong, I wouldn't break a leg or anything if I fall, I wouldn't even go down half a metre if I step off the platform as the chains will hold me. But still, being up there looking down with none of what I am used to have as "safety" scared me. It's a pseudo-fear. It's fear of something that isn't really there anymore. Much of my life has been lived that way. When you don't fear the falling down because you know it's not gonna happen, but you fear the height anyway, you know something in you needs to change. I understand that now. This year has been leading me up to this point, pounding this lesson into me over and over again in different ways until I really get it.

On the sixth course I got two kids going right behind me. They were really tailing me, right on my back. They were about 10 years old. Due to security measures and rules, there was a lot of waiting to avoid overcrowding on the wires and platforms. I was the last in our group to go, that's why I had these kids tailing me. They've been tailing us pretty much the whole day. As I stood on the platform, waiting for Lucko and Wulan to clear the next wire, I started talking to the kid. "Bro, you've done this before?" I asked, because he was so fast in clearing these obstacles. He said no, it's my first time. Later on I figured that he probably meant it was his first time on course six, he might've done the others before. I said "Sorry we're so slow ey bro, this is our first time, and I'm really scared." To my surprise, he politely said, "That's okay, I'm scared too". Somewhere along the line I was on this moving-log thing that I was so afraid of. Lo and behold, the kid was right there behind me, on the same log. I was scared enough when the logs were stable, let alone with a kid breathing down my neck hurrying me up without saying anything. I asked him, "Bro, are your parents near here somewhere?" He said no. I said, "That's good. Sorry about my mouth ey bro". Again, the ever-so-polite kid giggled a little and said, "That's okay". And I continued to swear black and blue into the air.

Much to my surprise, however, he started talking to me after that. "Woah that was freaky", he said after one obstacle, "now I don't know if I really wanna do course seven and eight after this." At one point he even asked me to help him move his safety lock from one wire to another because he wasn't tall enough to unlock them easily. That struck me rather deeply. This was a chance encounter. I didn't get the kid's name, and never will, as I quit at the end of course six because my arms wouldn't lift much more and grip was as good as gone. I was getting blurry and my mind wasn't there anymore at about halfway through course six, so I wasn't really there anymore by the end of it. But there it was, instant communication. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the altitude, maybe it's just easy to get people going when you're ten-twelve meters off the ground with just a cable wire under your feet, I don't know. But it's there. Maybe communication is hard to maintain, as was the case with this kid. But it sure is easy to initiate. And everything starts with a beginning.

This whole thing reminds me of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Do you remember what Indy got after he stepped [in faith?] off a cliff to a bridge that he couldn't see? The Cup of The Covenant.

Walk On Water: Side Story

Once upon a time there was a rich man. He found an empty land, and on that empty land he found a treasure. The moment he found the treasure, he quickly buried the treasure again, went home, sold everything he had, and bought the land. But the biggest thing about this little story is that it begins with "The Kingdom of God is like....."

For us, soil and dust with breath of life in it, this guy sold everything he had and bought us overpriced, all for what little treasure we hide within us. The crazy thing is, he sold everything. An empty land is worth a lot if you have something to build on top of it. But without anything else under his name, the empty land will stay empty, if not for the hidden treasure. See, he bought the land not because of what will become of the land. He bought because of what's already in it. And I think that's insane.

But if the Kingdom of God is like that, so to make "Your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven" we have to see other empty lands the same way. My only problem with that is these days I have a short fuse, I really do. If I've had a bad day, and especially if this empty land is not the female kind, I get pissed really really fast. Let's just be honest here, I'm a man too, and a single man at that. I'm willing to tolerate women more than men, I'll just be honest here. But then this side story didn't say anything about that. He found a land, found a hidden treasure, and did everything he could to save it. It's a simple story. It just takes a lot to follow.

A lot of times it takes so much, in fact, that I feel that to keep on doing it I have to be walking on water.

What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus

Interlude

When I was growing up I wanted to be strong
When I've grown up I wanted to be even stronger
So I put on an armor, a heart of steel
And then I met you

You said "There is more to life than this"
I walked with you, learned from you, ate from your table
I was a child again
And then I grew up

I thought I understood you, so I felt safe
In my arrogance I thought I understood
In my arrogance I came full circle
And my mistake brought me back to you

Back to you, back to you
The child, a grown up now
but back to how he was, naked and armor-less
and his heart no longer cold steel
flesh stripped bare to the cold winds
back unguarded, open to kill and steal

I come back to you, walking on water
with my eyes fixed on you, I have no one else
I come back to you, no longer strong
Still a fighter, but no longer just trying to survive

Back to you, coming back to you
Trying to be complete again, because only you can
complete me, fill me up
Fill this God-shaped hole

Because only you can

Walk On Water, part 3

I have misunderstood God. In very short four words, that's what I learned in the past two weeks. I thought I was walking right with God, being part of this ritual-less generation of believers. It was only recently that I realized I have gravitated towards ritual as I walk with God. So little faith, I'm ashamed to say. It's easier with rituals, after all. It's like everyday life. You pay money, you get your stuff. With God and faith, there is no money to pay with. The concept of Grace and God as a Father, they exist outside the realm of logic. The concept of Christ dying on the cross to save humanity is based on the belief that we cannot save ourselves. In other words, for all our powers we can't do a lick to change our fate, to move a stone in the course of this universe. That's why God has to do these things for us. In my arrogance I have come to believe that I can do something about it. In my familiarity I thought I can create something that isn't already in God's hands. Easter bears new meaning for me this year.

Easter Sunday, as we prayed for communion, I thought I heard Steve slipped his tongue. I don't know if he really did slip, or did he do it deliberately, or if it was just me. When Steve prayed over the bread, describing again how this is God's offer to take part in him, I thought I heard him say, "Let me die for you." From that word, this became the first year in my walk with God that I had to take the communion sitting down. My legs went out, and I bawled my eyes out. "Let me die for you", I heard God said. I grew up a survivor. I learned to be self-sufficient. A long time ago a friend warned me that I risk dying alone because I have a problem receiving from other people. In Hillsongs a few years back Joseph Prince said that the church today doesn't have a giving problem, it has a receiving problem. Grace is an easy concept to understand, but nearly impossible for me to take in. I understood their words back then, but this time my heart was broken open.

"Let me die for you", Jesus said. He could've said "let me buy you dinner", or anything, I would've broke down just the same. "Let me" anything. It's been a long time since last time I let anybody do anything for me, anything significant beyond the little chores. I have asked favor from people, and received them, but those were matters of utilitarianism on my part. I was using them because I know those were easy tasks for them each. This time, it felt like completely something else. Somebody wants to do something for me, not because I asked, not because it's easy for him, not because I can pay him back. He just wants to. In my survivor's mind, that's crazy. Why would anybody do that? And it's a big thing as well. It's a matter of heart. I have quite a big privacy sphere. Anybody unwanted who enters this sphere will find themselves kicked out, first gently and later harshly. I have been told of this before, and that I will always be alone if this sphere keeps up. I know that in my head, but I haven't had the courage to let go. Taking it to an extreme, I can call this sphere the AT-field, otherwise known to [my type of] geeks as Absolute Terror field. It is true, most things that get that close to me terrifies me. But as Jesus said that, along with the bread and wine that I took, I was hit and hit real hard.

As I learn to accept and receive, I feel that I'm walking ever closer to the edge. I'm living more dangerously now, I feel. Take risks, let myself be hurt, keep going forward under a rain of fire, and my only defense is a deep breath. I'm a willing target now. As I put these thoughts down to words, my mind can see a big one coming, a blow to shatter me. But I have to learn. I have to learn that all things work for my good. I have to learn that my God is not a boss, my God is a good Father. Everything has been prepared for me, I'll just have to come and grab them on the right time. It's hard to believe. I'm walking on water right now. As the waves lick my feet, I become more and more afraid, the thoughts of drowning fills my head. But the thing is this: I'm wet, not drowned. Despite all this terrifying things ahead of me, I'm still alive, I'm still typing, and I'm still thinking [although maybe not very straight]. This is a different kind of survival. I am nothing. All I have to hold on to is God and God's promises. I'm walking on water, and this time the water is no longer calm.

I stare down the rain of fire
I gaze at the hail of swords
and all I can do is stand back,
be still, and know you are God

Walk On Water, part 2

We want what we cannot humanly have. We see in others what we want for ourselves. We see in others what we want for them to have. Everything has its cost, but there is no rule that says who has to pay for them. We want them to have it, but they don't wanna pay for it. So we pay the price for them.

Is this right? Is this wrong? The heck with right or wrong! We willingly bear the sin of arrogance, of paying for something the receiver might not want. We willingly bear the sin of intrusion, of being the mustard seed that grows on a barren field where it is not wanted. We willingly bear the sin of annoying persistence, of growing back up everytime we're chopped down. We willingly bear the sin of subordination, of insisting that in some things we know better than our elders. Insistence is a strange thing. It is what parents do to their kids, when they know for sure what's good for them. So when we insist on something we believe is good but our elders refuse, we reverse our roles. We willingly bear the sin of natural subordination, a rebellion against natural order, of insisting to our superiors what we believe is good for them. And most of all we willingly bear the sin of the audacity of hope, of being so audacious as to believe for a moment that we can move God's heart, as we noisily and persistently knock on heaven's door.

This journey is gonna cost me, and it's gonna cost me a lot. Fighting in someone else's battle is not what I usually do. But I think it's high time that I be real. I am real. Life is real. God is real. I want God to be as real in my life as this desk in front of me, this towel on my wet hair, this chocolate bar in my mouth, these blinking lights that I'm watching, and the autumn sun shining down from the sky. So this is my attempt at Kingdom Come. Life is passing me by, and I'm just one man trying to make his way in the universe. There has to be more to life than this. There is God, and God is here. But to have God's presence known and felt and noticeable, now that's real. This next period of the year is for this purpose, of inviting God to be real in my world and my reality, as real as can be, so real that I can almost reach out and touch his shadow. Funny how I have to come to this conclusion by someone else's battle. But maybe that's what we are. It is not good for human to be alone, it says. Fighting your own battles is one thing. But fighting for someone else, in a business where you don't get to determine where it is headed, where you can lose a lot just by being in a supporting role, that's something else altogether. My comfort bubble isn't real. Life isn't always comfortable. This is real. Living and fighting with and for others, this is real.

This is our attempt
to bring the Kingdom down here
on earth as it is in heaven

This is our attempt
for what the eyes have not seen
what the ears have not heard
and what the mind has never even thought of

All Too Human

A few days ago, an old guard passed away in the family. It's been a long time coming, and I think it's safe to say that most have been expecting it. But life is such an awesome thing that the weight of a matriarch's death is still a heavy burden. I spent an entire day sweeping the subject under the rug, much to my dad's confusion. Yesterday, it hit me that I was being inhuman. Yes it's awkward, yes I didn't know what to say. But isn't it more wrong to not be present, whatever that means these days, in such situations? Then I watched a part of Summer Wars. After the part where their matriarch passed away, I scrambled a few txts and sent them away.

"... because the saddest things in life are being hungry and being alone..."

I'm used to being both of those, sometimes in turn, sometimes at once. But I hardly felt sad. I quite enjoy it most of the time, in fact. Such is my inhumanity.

Then I took my mind off things by polishing my cymbals. They sit proudly in my room, glistening under the light. The medium, intimidating and thin. The ride, enormous and imposing. Light does that to you when you reflect it well. You only need to be polished every now and again.

I originally intended to write long and imaginative. But this week has been a bit of a quiet rollercoaster ride, and my words have failed me in this past hour. So many things I can write about, so many angles I can analyze from. But really, what else do I have to talk about other than us, humans being humans?

One man trying to find his way in the universe. What would his tomorrow bring? Which path should he take? There are no save points in life. You make your choices, and you don't look back. His sword arm tightens. "Whatever comes", he thought, "I can handle it". But his sword slashes the wind, his legs chase after shadows. He walks and travels far and wide. He sees much, gains much, listens a lot and speaks his part. Yet he has nothing. "Let your sword arm go", says a whisper. "Let go." The world is bigger than you. You, a survivor in this concrete jungle, let go. Live on, but don't forget you're human.

A woman fights her way under a steel sky. She puts her armor down and opens herself vulnerable to those who wants her help. She gives, and gives, and gives. A fountain never runs dry, as long as it keeps its water flowing. And so she gives, she gives, and she gives. Then it all becomes too much for her. A fighter, she refuses to sit down. But a human, she can only handle so much. Human, all too human. She finds herself down on the ground, without knowing why. She wants to keep going, but her self refuses to move forward. Rest, warrior, you will need it. Rest, child, you deserve it. There will be another day to fight, another day to save others. Remember you're not alone.

An old matriarch passed away. Two generations come and mourn. Few days of ceremony, then everything's back to normal. Everything? Nothing. Nothing will ever be the same. A man stood on farewell. Goodbye, he said, the last of your generation. Without you I wouldn't be here. Without the past, the present wouldn't be here, and the future wouldn't come tomorrow. Fare thee well, old generation, all of you. You are part of us, like you made us part of you when you were here. Goodbye, past. You are not nameless memories. You are real people, with real impact. Rest in peace, everybody. Rest assured, we will not waste this future you've paved for us.

Rest in peace
Opa, Oma, Mak Akoh
Fare thee well, all of you

We are one, but we're not the same
We hurt each other, and we do it again
But we have to carry each other
Carry each other

Hear us come, Lord
Hear us crawl!
Hear us knocking,
knocking at your door!

Reflections

I need to care more. In a nutshell, that's what I've learned through the whole of today. In the beginning, there was a beach. Then there was a watermelon. Two, actually. A cutting board and a huge kitchen knife showed up shortly after. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that. What's summer without beaches AND watermelons? Yet I couldn't come up with that after all these years. It's been a while since last time I went to the beach more than once a summer. Muriwai didn't disappoint. Not so crazy winds this time. Huge waves tho. Towards the end I hit another one of those washing machine types. Needless to say I retired shortly after.

Then off we went, all of us five adults, to house-sit/kids-sit 9 kids as their parents went off for dinner. I intended to learn as much as I can out of it, thinking I was ready enough to absorb as much as possible. I was wrong. I learned that girls want to be pleased, want others to do what they want them to do. It's not about winning or losing with girls. And with kids, boys or girls regardless, it's about diving into their worlds and the heck with anything else. I'm far from that stage. Took me about half an hour to figure that out.

Then came dinner time. After a few attempts of smooth coercion from my comrades, a kid refused to step out the TV room and have dinner. So I decided to step up and invoked one of my most archaic weapons: Cao Cao. Or to be more specific, his governmental system, Rewards And Punishment. I put on my strict voice and threatened him with punishment. Two rounds later, he gave in. For a moment I felt good about myself. An hour later, the kid threw his ego around again. This time I was having dinner. I didn't see what happened, I only heard the noise from the next room, but I knew this little dude was harassing the girls. After two rounds, the matter was resolved peacefully. Etta weaved her magic wand around a bit and came out the magic trick called Positive Coercion, as I'd like to call it. The matter was resolved peacefully. And so I learned how far behind I was in skills.

Not long after, the little dude went back to take it on with Etta again. His buddies were reluctant accomplices this time. And this time I jumped in, still with half-eaten dinner at hand. Out came Cao Cao again, but this time I've learned my lessons a bit and kept my voice lowered. "You guys still want your milk tea?" Three little heads nodded. "Then behave." Cao Cao level 2 won the confrontation bloodlessly. As a side note, those milk teas were actually promised and were due to be delivered about half an hour back. I purposely held them back until they'd ask again, as a backup weapon. And it did work the way I wanted them to. A copy of Sun Tzu's Art Of War somewhere must be glowing with delight.

Much later, another little story happened. There was this Japanese kid that's been on a PS2 for hours, replaying the same stage over and over again. After watching him for a while, noticing that he began talking to me whenever I sat there, I asked him in Japanese, dude is this really fun? He smiled and didn't answer. He must be thinking, "Oookkkaaayy creepy old man, don't get too familiar with me...." After a while he began explaining, in English, what he was doing and why he liked it so much. My mediocre Japanese failed me, so I continued in English. I asked him, what else do you like? "Umm... this." Okay, how about sports? Basketball, soccer, rugby? "I don't like them, all they do is run around." Excellent answer, though it put me in a tight spot. How about swimming? "Oh I tried swimming yesterday, didn't like it." And so I was stumped. At that point, almost my entire background came to the fore. I'm a gamer myself, I treated this gig like a job, I'm individualistic, and I'm philosophically open-minded. So I thought, if that's the case then this is your rightful place, have fun.

As I moved on elsewhere, a while later Etta came in, again armed with her favourite trick. As I listened in, I quickly found out that the kid had once said "I'm really good at this." Then it hit me. It's not that he's enjoying the game itself, it's just that it connected to what he's good at. It turned out that he's good with his hands. So, for some unknown mystery, Etta got him to draw with the other girls. Insanity, I thought. But it drove home my point. I need to care more.

At that point I was tired, fatigue finally set in. I borrowed Andrew's ipod, got myself a book as drum pad and two pens as sticks. I sat myself on the kitchen bar, and started practicing. It was my autistic moment. After every turn of the song I would go around, checking if everything was fine. I got through about five or six of these rounds, not bad at all for a day when I thought I wouldn't be able to get practice time. Everything went downhill for my body after that. Half the kids were glued to the screen watching The Princess And The Frog, and then Astro Boy. The other half were with Etta, drawing and showing off magic tricks or whatnot. I could barely summon any more energy.

Not long after Andrew left. I cleaned the kitchen, unable to think anymore, as my body went back to Starbucks-mode. It was still about an hour and a half until some of the parents got back. To say that fatigue got the better of me is an understatement. As the TV blared, and the remaining six kids, bleary-eyed though they were, roared out laughing as the hilarious moments they've been expecting came up on screen, the three adults slumped on their chosen spots and slowly withered. Ccl half-died first, Etta sometime later, while I still managed a laugh or two at the jokes that were too adult for the kids to understand. Inside, I withered about half an hour before either of them.

In conclusion, it had to be one amazing day to get me to write this long again. I would do it again, make no mistake. It's a very valuable experience, and I'm not entirely happy with my C- performance.

But before I get another shot at this stuff, I need to learn to care more.

The Spring and The Mirage

I've had a bit of a crazier than usual day. After a rather average gig, I left feeling well that wasn't too special. Then we had a BBQ, unexpectedly running around more than I thought I would. There is something about running around with kids that just doesn't replicate in any other way. It's a happy day, and not just because I ended up with a week's supply of meat, cutting my expenses drastically. I got myself ice cream before going home. I hope this one wouldn't sit there for a year before I decide to throw it away uneaten. I even had a mug of it just now, a great improvement for me.

There is that mysterious glow that some people give off. I hung out with such people today. Running around with the kids, eating with them, listening to them talk about what they've been watching and playing, their heroes, and everything else. I didn't have the heart to tell Sammy that I think Naruto is very weak as a main character, that Kira Yamato is a complete jerk, and that I don't rate Athrun Zala going to Kira's side as "good". Instead I just uhm-ed and ahh-ed and nodded my way through his story. I sat looking out to space as a few grandmas asked me how mom is doing. I couldn't meet their gaze, for fear that I wouldn't be able to hold back tears. It's not so much the story that saddens me, as much as the gentle hearts and voices of old-timers reaching out to raw explosive hearts of the ticking time bomb that is youth. I watched as the parents bought some overpriced ice creams, and the disappointment in some of the kids' face as they found out they weren't gonna get any, and then the efforts of their peers trying to share their pain. For that very reason I went and bought for myself two liters of very cheap ice cream on the way home. It's one mess of a world out there, a chaos of emotions and conflicts, of people and personalities bouncing off each other. From that chaos I emerged wanting more. It was so outside my comfort zone, and yet I felt so alive after all that.

And when you walk away from a place carrying a new light, it is wise to use that light to help your way ahead. I have a lot to ponder about ahead. I have some risky hope this year. I believe, however, that no matter what happens, if worse comes to worst, my God is bigger still. This belief doesn't make me any less anxious. The higher you fly, the harder you fall. It's gonna hurt when everything comes crumbling down, I'm not fooling myself. I have learned to stop thinking what God will or will not do. The good thing about that is, that means things will happen beyond my wildest dreams. The bad thing is, that means I wouldn't always get what I want. Pain is on the way, there's no denying that for people who have their ego still attached. But I'm holding on. This is faith, I think. It's scary, it's crazy, it's undeniably insane. But what choice do I have? Between living secure in mediocrity, or reach for the skies risking suffering, I know which I'll choose everytime. And yet, this belief does nothing to tame my anxiety and fear for what the future us like.

That is what the chaos from today taught me. It was chaos, it was brutal, and a lot of things could go wrong. But it was warm. At this day and age, as I survive in the jungle of concrete and steel, warmth is something else altogether. For this very reason, I have great hope for the unknown ahead, in the knowledge that I have had firsthand account of such a chaos that didn't hurt me, but in fact warmed me up inside. I should have more of that.

The dog howled at his silver moon
Come down and keep me company
But the night is cold, the wind shivering
Because warmth will come only at the light of dawn

Walk On Water

Once upon a time there was this guy. At one point in his life, this story happened. He and a bunch of mates were hanging out on a boat in the middle of a lake. Being experienced sailors, they were people who didn't mind spending the night on a boat. Only that night, this big crazy storm came and shook their party out. His mates, being the experienced sailors that they were, did all they could on the boat to keep it floating, wishing with every fibre in their bodies to come out through the night alive. The storm was raging, the boat was shaking, the wind was crazy, there was water everywhere, and the adrenaline rush was more than normal people could handle. But then this guy came out and saw something in the distance.

He saw what looked like a man appeared at some distance away from them, standing over the waves. On the unstable footing of the boat, the winds, under the pale and weak moonlight, this guy gazed to the distance onto that barely-visible figure. "Lord, is that you?" through the raging winds he shouted. "Yes, it is me", he heard the reply. An insane thought flashed in his mind. "Lord, tell me to come out there and I'll come out!" this guy shouted. The figure gestured him to come. Then our hero had a choice in his mind. The storm is raging. It's not comfortable in here anyway. But we're experienced sailors, we might just get through this if we play it cool. This is not our first storm, but it sure wouldn't be our last either. What do I do?

He made a step towards the edge. "Come back in here, man! What's wrong with you?" his mates called out. The guy was too lost in thought to be able to hear them. In fact, he could barely hear anything. The storm, the winds, the shaking boat, his mate's voice, even the figure out on the waves, they all blur in the background as his heart pounded and pounded and pounded, louder and louder. His thoughts came in and came out like a flood in his head. What makes you so sure it's who you think it is? If it's really him, then I can do this easy, no problem. You can still survive this, no need to risk your comfort zone. Yeah, but I don't like being shaken in a boat like this anyway. It's bad right now, but it's nothing new, you can get through this just like before.

Just like before....
But I'm sick of all my "before"s

The dog opened his eyes, startled. He wasn't even sleeping. The scene flashed through his head over and over again. He gazed upon the uncertainty ahead of him. Not the mist, not the road. The dog gazed ahead at the crossroads. Reality and fantasy blurred. Left or right became minor details. Faintly up ahead he saw a figure of a man, neither here nor there. The dog closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, the figure was still there, as if waiting.

Lord, if that is you
bid me to come

The Dog's Journey

A dog was walking down a country path. He met a lot of dangers on the road, and though he survived so far he knew there are much worse dangers out there in the world. Thus far into his journey, he came upon a fork in the road. Both paths still go forward, they just diverge quite a bit. On one side the road was what the road had always been. It's not easy, not hard, not safe, not dangerous, not plain, but not terribly exciting either.

On the other, was a gap on the ground, like a cliff down to nowhere. Across was an island, like a piece of land were chopped off the main road and stuck there like a detour. Thin mist floated lazily between the cliff's edge and the cutoff island. On the island, the dog saw something he had never seen before in his short life.

It was a spectre, standing silently, not mourning nor cheering. It was a siren, singing a brave song one moment and a tragedy the next. It was a ball of energy, seemingly unchained but at the same time looked as if it was chained with an invisible shackle to nothing but the mist. It was alive. It was like the dog and nothing like the dog. It was mysterious. To the dog's eyes it was warm, though the dog's paws went cold. It wasn't bright, it wasn't dim. It floated there like a butterfly under the moonlight. And for an instant the dog thought he mistook the butterfly for a hawk. His fur bristled behind his neck at the thought, but his eyes couldn't get away. Everything about the place calls out danger.

But I want it

The gap was big, and the mist was hiding something. The dog couldn't see what was behind the mysterious being, but if the chain was real then it was definitely something big. A giant wall of mist stood before the dog, and the gap laid open under it. What little scars the dog had had taught the dog that he had never challenged anything this big before. His heart beat faster. His fear grew bigger. The shadows grew longer. His paws got colder. His breath got quicker. His body shook harder.

But. I. Want. It

The dog faced the biggest wall he had ever thought of jumping in his entire existence. The cold steely gaze of reality stared back at him without mercy. The mist still stood. The gap still laid in wait. The mysterious being still fluttered about, courage and sorrow embodied, scars and beauty personified. The dog stood on a decisive moment in his life.

To be continued...

State of the Heart

A random ramble just to prove I'm still alive and writing.

A butterfly flutters in the midnight sky. Cutting through the wind, she ponders, where will I land, what will I find? Enveloped in darkness, guided by the shy Moon and the faint dispersed stars, she travels the sky. I hope I'll get there, I hope I'll get there. Get there where? Somewhere out there, I don't care.

A dog howls to the moon. Long unchained, he still feels restrained. I am no longer chained, but the ground still binds me. So he howls to the moon, knowing where light is, basking in its glory, can't grasp it, can't grasp it, unless it comes down. So howl, dog, howl. Sing to your moon, bring its silver beauty down.

Shadows under the street lights, where are you going? Here and there, most roads lead to nowhere. Passing by, trying to fly, just can't get off the ground, not even making a sound. Don't mistake the street light above as the Moon up in the sky.

Dance, butterfly, dance. Let your wings go, fly away, find your way. Take to the midnight skies, navigate the chilly winds, reach the moon where it is brightest.

Howl, dog, howl. Take hold of your place, your inheritance, the wolf, the alpha. Run to the hills, to the highest place. Howl to the big light in the sky. Sing and bring down the light, the warmth, where you belong.