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
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
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!
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!
Monday, October 11, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
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!
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!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
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
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
Sunday, August 8, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
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
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
Sunday, May 9, 2010
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?
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?
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