verklempt

"Henry and Sheldon walked all the way to the steps of the Nippon Kan Theater, across from Kobe Park and in the shadow of the Japanese-owned Astor Hotel, which stood silent like an empty coffin. The prettiest part of Japantown, even vacant as it was, looked beautiful in the afternoon. Cherry blossom covered the sidewalks, and the streets smelled alive.

"What are we doing here?" Henry asked, as he watched Sheldon open his case and take his saxophone.

"We're living."

Henry looked around the deserted streets, remembering the people, the actors, the dancers, the old men gossiping and playing cards. Children running and playing. Keiko sitting on the hillside drawing in her sketchbook. Laughing at Henry. Teasing him. The memories warmed him, just a little. Maybe there was life to be lived.

His ears perked up as Sheldon drew a sharp breath, then began a slow wailing on his sax. A sad, melancholy affair, the kind Henry had never heard him play on the street or in the clubs. It was heartbreaking, but only for a moment.

Then he slipped into something festive — something up-tempo, with a soul and a heartbeat. 

He played for no one, but at the same time, Henry realized he was playing for everyone."

— Hotel on the Corner of Bitter & Sweet, Jamie Ford

udal cuain

what if you're right?

maybe i'm a hypocrite?

father, how long more will this season last? i don't think i can hold on much longer.

help me back up the things i write, the songs i sing, the words i say.

even when i am faithless, you remain faithful.

aleatory

this used to be enough.

but we've changed, you and i, so much so.

at least we're always changing.

that way, hopefully someday, this will be enough again.

my love, i long for Your return. come replace this distance with eternity.

i look to You, in the midst of emotions and affections and struggles and conflicts.

i look to You.

and all i see is beauty.

the effect of extreme worship

"Shout for joy, O barren one, you who have borne no child; Break forth into joyful shouting and cry aloud, you who have not travailed; For the sons of the desolate one will be more numerous than the sons of the married woman," says the LORD."

In Isaiah 54:1, we find a barren woman who is exhorted to shout for joy before she becomes pregnant. The end result is that she will have more children than the one who has been having children all along.

This provides quite the prophetic picture. The people who are a people of worship, regardless of circumstances, will become fruitful in ways beyond reason.

Anyone can get happy after the miracle has come. Show me someone who celebrates before the answer, and I'll show you someone who is about to experience the answer. This is the nature of faith — it looks ahead and lives accordingly.

— Bill Johnson, Hosting the Presence

tacenda

i keep my cigarettes in the same drawer as my letters.

it serves as a reminder for myself, of mistakes i have done, people i had hurt. even reminds me of times i got hurt.

nicotine and words. a curious combination. smooth and addictive, yet hazardous, either to body or soul. i'm not quite sure which one does more damage. the pack of smokes, or the stack of letters that have been read over and over again.

it's not that the letters were written in a bitter state with malicious intent. in fact, they were well-meaning. even more than that, they were vows of friendship. promises, which were eventually broken. 

i made a vow to myself, as part of one of my new year's resolution, to not throw my words around. to mean what i say, and say what i mean. i wanted to quit making empty promises, and be true to my word. because people deserve that. especially in a society where promises are apparently meant to be broken.

i only wish you had meant what you wrote.

maybe

maybe someday, somewhere, we'll eventually be okay.

maybe it will hurt less. or maybe there'll be no more pain. perhaps the hurt will continue to the point of numbing, and we won't feel a thing. and that's okay.

maybe people will care someday. or maybe not. maybe the words of authors and songs of lyricists dead and gone will prove better company than homo sapiens. and that's okay.

maybe time will stop, and we will keep living. maybe there will be no such thing as time anymore. or maybe it all ends with a full stop. period. and that's okay.

maybe someday the rain will stop. maybe someday the sun will shine again. or maybe not. maybe we'll live according to the mood of the clouds and the rhythm of the storm. and that's okay.

maybe someday they will see the effort we put into things. maybe they'll be put in a position where they can finally understand our heart. or perhaps not. maybe we'll just depart and move along eventually. and that's okay.

but until then, we're not really okay. and maybe that, in itself, is okay.

i guess i kinda miss you. just a little badly.

abandon

"In God's presence I'll dance all I want... Oh yes, I'll dance to God's glory—more recklessly even than this. And as far as I'm concerned, I'll gladly look like a fool."

~

identity

"Who am I?"

"Certainly I will be with you."

Initially it looked like God ignored Moses' question. But perhaps He didn't. It seems that He was letting Moses know that his whole identity was not to be in his skills, training, or popularity. It wasn't his gifts or even his anointing. It boiled down to one thing.

"You're the one I want to be with."

Who was Moses? The guy God liked to hang around. Moses may not have known who he was, but God knew whose he was.

— Bill Johnson, Hosting the Presence

persist

the wilderness sucks. well, kinda.

it always feels so gloomy and dismal. so barren and empty. and most of the times, lonely.

but it's only in such a dark, desolate place that one can see the stars in the sky. because in the wilderness, there are no billboards, no skyscrapers, no flashy lights from throngs of cars and streetlights. no pretty things to steal your heart away. no distractions.

maybe that's the whole point of those seasons in the wilderness. and that's what i'm trying to do. i'm trying to see the stars in the night sky.

trying to find beauty in the wilderness.

fade

all these faces, these sights and sounds. purely temporary.

even the memories. even the emotions. 

infatuation, love, attraction, lust; whatever you want to call it.

temporary.

precious

"What can you see outside?"

"I see trees, the sky, and some clouds. Some birds on tree branches."

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Right?"

"That's right."

"But if you knew you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Have you ever thought about that?"

"I have."

A surprised look comes over her. "When?"

"When I'm in love," I tell her.

She smiles faintly, and it continues to hover around her lips.

"Are you in love?" she asks.

"Yes."

"And her face and whole being are precious to you, each time you see her?"

"That's right. And I might lose those."

— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

desperation

my heart breaks for Malaysia.

in the midst of all this madness and chaos and pain and heartache, often times i find myself feeling as though this country is beyond repair. hopeless.

yet he kindly reminds me, to whom, or what, do I set my hope on? for this, he brings me back to Psalms 42.

and even with some — i'd like to think a few — choosing to instigate racism and tension, i am reminded of Ephesians 6:12. that he is able to soften all hearts, and that our war takes place in the spiritual realm. the battle is first won through prayer.

God, your word says that your eyes search the earth to and fro to strengthen the hearts of those who are fully committed to you. and so Lord, here we are, the remnant. a people whose hearts are fully committed to you. a people desperate for your kingdom come, and your will be done.

Father, we set our hearts and eyes on you.

"Our God, will you not judge them? For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

— 2 Chronicles 20:12

conflict

selfish me wants you for my own.

but selfless me insists you deserve better.

longing

it's raining. 

the air carries a nice soothing coolness. refreshing even. the raindrops seem to timidly sprinkle on the rooftop, its music complementing that of the ceiling fan. i'm all curled up in bed, wrapped warm in my blanket. the rain is starting to get heavier, and the air cooler.

and in this moment, i wish you were here with me.

maybe this isn't my calling.

inexplicable

Still I hear You say,

"My love is over. It's underneath.

It's inside. It's in between.

The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.

The times that you question, ' Is this for real? '

The times you're broken.

The times that you mend.

The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.

Well, My love is over, it's underneath.

It's inside, it's in between.

These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.

The times that you feel like you've fallen from grace.

The times you're hurting.

The times that you heal.

The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.

In times of confusion, in chaos and pain.

I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.

I'm there through your heartache.

I'm there in the storm.

My love, I will keep you, by My power alone.

I don't care where you fall, or where you have been.

I'll never forsake you.

My love never ends.

It never ends."

~

one other song that's gotten me through different seasons, and currently getting me through this one: tenth avenue north's times

inevitable

"My kitten was run over. It was only little. The man who died told me about it, although he wasn't driving. He said they didn't see it."

"I'm sorry. That's the trouble with living things. Don't last very long. Kittens one day, old cats the next. And then, just memories. And even then, the memories fade and blend and smudge together."

— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

affinity

it rained today. a heavy downpour, though without the thunder and lightning. the kind of rain that puts a mute on every other sound, leaving only the intense noise of pellets of rain hammering down. the kind of rain that unsettles people. the kind of rain that people run away from. 

it alleviated to a soft drizzle once the clouds were satisfied. a calm, rhythmic, pitter-patter. the kind that helps people sleep easy despite their weariness. the kind that children run freely in. 

the cleansing, then, the peace.

mother nature is amazing. it's almost as if she's able to empathize with one's sorrow and grief.

did i say as if? of course she does.

*knock knock*

"Come in," muttered a croaking, yet delicate voice.

"Ah, there you are. I've been waiting for you for so long. How have you been?"

I just saw you yesterday. "Sorry, I've been busy this whole week with work," I answered monotonously.

"How's that girl you've been seeing? What was her name again?"

"She's fine. We're still together." We're married with two little kids running around the house.

You asked the same questions as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, and I couldn't help but answer differently each day. 

"The US and Russia are going to war," I said, in a half-hearted attempt to change the topic.

"Dear God, how did that happen? These things don't just happen overnight."

You're right. They don't. In fact, it took years of rising tensions until it boiled over. Years. 

"How was church? I've really missed everyone, although it's only been a few weeks."

I haven't gone to church, or any religious establishment for that matter, for more than 3 years. "It was okay. You know, the usual."

Then we talked on and on for hours until the nurse interrupted to tell me that visiting hours were over, and I had to leave.

Before leaving, I clasped her hands tightly, not wanting to let go. I caressed her wrinkly, aged face; feeling with my fingertips the deepness of the creases. It's funny how people say that time heals the deepest of wounds, because these wrinkles that time has left sure feel like scars to me. She looked into my eyes, confused, but compassionate.

"Go on, son. You can see me tomorrow," she said through her smile.

As a matter of fact, yes, I will see you tomorrow, and the days to come. But I know all too well how the next day you'll greet me with the same greeting and how it stings my heart when you do, because although I've only left you for the night, you make it sound as if I haven't seen you in weeks.

"Goodbye."

show me love, teach me truth. break my heart, and bring me back to You. bring me back to You.

refocus, realign

"A girl should get so lost in God, that a guy has to seek Him to find her."

— Dannah Gresh

Seek Him first.

distant

i had a dream last night. 

you were in it.

and in it, you were mine to keep. mine to lavish my affections upon. mine to show off to the world.

it felt so real. so possible.

but of course, it was just a dream. that's the thing about dreams. they always feel so real.

i'll tell you what's very real though: the dejection after the dream.

~

Copeland, Erase

compassion

you've grown so used to pain and hurt, that you've grown numb. you don't feel the sting anymore. you don't notice. you don't care. you push on towards whatsoever you've deemed worthy to be your goal, choosing not to heed anyone else.

some applaud you, noting you as a symbol of strength. of determination and independence. 

yet there are others who chastise you, rebuking you for your ignorance. they say you are arrogant, for your lack of empathy. and they are right. 

how could you be. so. heartless.

please don't grow numb. please feel the pain. 

please stay human.

ignorance

"Why did we become blind?"

"I don't know. Perhaps one day we'll find out."

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?"

"Yes, I do."

"I don't think we did go blind. I think we are blind."

"Blind, but seeing..?"

"Blind people who can see, but do not see."

— José Saramago, Blindness

caving in

I'd be lying if I were to say that it didn't hurt. It did. A lot.

I didn't expect it to wound me so badly though, and that just makes it so much worse.

I'm a fool to have expected anything better.

confused, dejected, frustrated; all at once

i think i just need some time to rethink everything. my personality, values, aspirations, relationships, likes, dislikes, the truths and lies i choose to believe, the people i open up to, amongst other things.

i need to clear my head. preferably without you around.

infatuation

I wrote a page for you, but it wasn't enough. So I wrote another, and more, and more. 

It's still not enough.

~

Sleeping At Last, Watermark

ephemeral

"Will she be the same?"

The old woman guffawed, as if I had said the funniest thing in the universe. 

"Nothing's ever the same," she said. "Be it a second later or a hundred years. It's always churning and roiling. And people change as much as the oceans."

— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

apathy

"Do you mean that we have more words than we need?

I mean that we have too few feelings.

Or that we have them but have ceased to use the words they express.

And so we lose them, both the words and the feelings."

— José Saramago, Blindness

detached

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting.

Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me."

— C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

spent

perhaps we're all a little bit.

a little lonely. a little sad. a little broken. kinda lost. kinda confused. kinda hurting deep inside. a little weary. a little too heavy. a little overwhelmed.

perhaps we all are.

i hope we all are.

i think my greatest fear, is that you'll stop forgiving.

i think my greatest fear, is that you'll deny me when we finally meet.

that you'll say that you never knew me.

that i only praised you with my lips, and not my heart.

not my deeds.

not my life.

and i can't blame you for that.

at the end of the day, the heart of worship cannot be forced. it can be caught, not taught.

belonging

"Prosperity knits a man to the World.

He feels that he is 'finding his place in it', while really it is finding its place in him.

His increasing reputation, his widening circle of acquaintances, his sense of importance, the growing pressure of absorbing and agreeable work, build up in him a sense of being really at home in earth."

— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

college is over

“Mike,” she went on, “Here’s the thing.  Do you think your father and I have been married over 30 years because we’re perfect for each other?  Not a chance.  Even if we were perfect for each other back then, we wouldn’t be any more, because people change.  So, to stay married, you have to commit to keeping up with the other person’s changing, and keep asking God for the grace to love whoever they become.”

~

Take some time to read this post by Mike Donehey, Tenth Avenue North's lead singer. I assure you, it's good. On another note, I'm looking to challenge myself to finish a book every week for a month.

Update: which failed. but i did finish three books. not too bad i guess.

sunder

"I'm sorry I couldn't be all that you wanted. I understand your need to search elsewhere for that which I lack. To that end I wish you luck. But while we are yet here together, for what is possibly the last time, will you stay a little while longer? Please?

Please, stay. Allow me this final chance of admiring everything about you. To gaze in amazement at your surreal features. Grant me this last occasion of savoring your sweet, sweet presence. Let me flood my head with your scent, my senses with your touch, my heart with your warmth.

They're all I will be left with once you're gone.

When you do leave, don't say goodbye to me; bid me farewell instead, for there is no good in this goodbye, not for me."

~

"Oh, dear, you are such a poet. But that is exactly why I must leave. Goodbye."

resonance

"It seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. 

The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern."

— J.R.R. Tolkein, The Silmarillion

~

Read the excerpt slowly, then bask in the magnificence of Tolkien's descriptive writing.

unconventional company

"Soon afterwards it began to rain: huge, pelting drops that rattled against the windows and blurred the world into grey and greens. Deep rumbles of thunder accompanied Shadow on his journey south: the storm grumbled, the wind howled and the lightning made huge shadows across the sky, and in their company Shadow slowly began to feel less alone."

— Neil Gaiman, American Gods

~

my first time reading Neil Gaiman's works, but i think i'm in love. American Gods is literally one of the best books i've ever read. 

keep. pressing. on.

After Jesus' cousin, John the Baptist, was killed, all Jesus wanted was to take a break. It says in the Word that he withdrew privately to a solitary place, telling the disciples, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." 

Yet in his departure, need arose. 

When the people saw that he was leaving, they ran on foot, coming from different towns, arriving before Jesus did, and waited on him. Jesus saw the needs in the people, and was moved with compassion for them. He put aside his own emotions and tiredness, not out of obligation, but out of compassion, and began to minister to them. Then, he performed a miracle and fed all five thousand of them. Jesus did all this right after his cousin was killed. Beheaded, to be exact. 

He had every right to call it a day, but he didn't.

I am overwhelmed. Here I am, feeling so tired, constantly murmuring and complaining, just feeling like giving up and letting go of every responsibility and running off elsewhere, even for just a while. Then I compare my situation to his, and I think to myself, "Geez Nick, and you have the heart to complain?"

Jesus, make me more like you, whatever the cost.

slumber

Some call him a wanderer. Others, a soulless outcast.

In the desert, you can find him. At times, wandering aimlessly, as if in a stupor, and sometimes, pitching his tent for the night. Everyday as he roves around, he sets up camp at a different site than the day before, something alike a new discovery to him. O how the boy became so easily contented. Thinking that each new part of the desert brings a breath of fresh air, when in reality, he remains in the same dreary desert.

Parched. Arid. Barren. Dry.

His Father was the one who tasked him to journey through the desert. The point was to birth a new hunger. To instill a different perspective in His son. Because hey, maybe it's true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

But His effort failed. The boy grew contented where he was supposed to grow hungry.

a conversation

"Stay strong!"

I can't. I really can't. Sigh.

"That's what I love about you. You're genuine about how you feel even when you know you have the ability to fake it. That's good because you're real when you come before Him. And that's what He wants. I may not know the season you're in, but I've learned something in my own walk. He's looking for the ones who are desperate and are weak. 

How can He display His power in someone who is already strong in their own strength? Sometimes we think we only offer sacrifice when we worship or serve Him. Psalms 51:17 says the sacrifice of God is a broken spirit.

Maybe I was wrong to say stay strong, rather, ask Him to show you His strength."

incandescent

i was watching the sunset today.

i was watching the sunset today, when i realized how beautiful this country is; how blessed i am to be able to admire such a view, and how perhaps i never quite paid enough attention to the vistas before my eyes.

i was watching the sunset today, when i figured that God's hobbies must include painting, judging by the stunning amber hues that adorned the sky.

i was watching the sunset today accompanied by the gleams of traffic lights and taillights — a light show of sorts — when i thought that maybe it is somehow possible for nature and technology to get along.

i was watching the sunset today, when i realized how much i would have loved to have you by my side admiring the scenery, though you probably are a prettier sight than any sunset this world could offer.

i was watching the sunset today, and then it was gone, when i realized, holy crap, time passes by way too quickly for my liking.

part

"Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship. 

Go in peace!

I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

~

— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

hope

"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is already there He is pleased even with their stumbles.

Don't be deceived, Wormwood.

Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

~

This book is written in the point of view of a 'senior demon', hence, the 'Enemy' refers to God. Thought I'd clarify. Very good read by the way.

but in defence of the Heart

the heart is a fool.

the heart does whatever it wants, whenever it wants. lacking rationale. throwing caution to the wind with foolish passion.

it gives all it has; all its blood, all its beats, all its hard motherhugging work. even when it knows that what it's doing would tear itself apart, it continues to do so.

in all that giving, sometimes it receives. sometimes all that passion gets rewarded. the reward ranges from acknowledgement to fame, to what we humans call reciprocated feelings. sometimes the heart receives from another heart.

it happens ever so rarely. but apparently to dear foolish heart, it's worth it.

because some things go beyond the description that any vocabulary in any language could put together. because some things that the heart is capable of like Faith, Hope, and Love just surpasses our human understanding.

the heart is a fool, but it is an honest fool.

kill time to kill self

"I realize that death is not the end of life, but it is also my best friend. She is always sitting by my side, even while I am talking to you, looking to the mountains here with snow.

"Your death is always sitting by your side?"

By my side, sitting in the chair right in front of me. I see death as a beautiful woman.

"What is she saying?"

She is saying, "I am going to kiss you," and I say to her, "Not now, please." But she says "OK, not now—but pay attention and try to get the best of every moment because I am going to take you." And I say, "OK, thank you for giving me the most important lesson in life—to live your moment fully."

— Paulo Coelho

presence

"and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

~

heart-breaking beauty

Have you ever encountered something so beautiful, that it breaks your heart?

It could be a gorgeous woman, or an intricate piece of art. Maybe even a timid child, or a heartfelt song. Something so mesmerizing, that draws your attention from a glance to a gaze. It's more than just beauty per se. It's something that is precious.

Something so breathtakingly fragile, that makes you want to cry out for people to leave it be, simply because it's perfect the way it is. So much so, that you cannot even stand the thought of it being broken, or blemished, or corrupted. Except it will.

She will, despite your best efforts.

So you resign yourself to the fact of the matter, and let life run its course. You watch, helplessly, as the world slowly breaks her down, taking away her innocence and livelihood, vertebra by vertebra. Then deep inside somewhere you feel a rupturing sensation. Your heart being crushed.

And voilà! Heart-breaking beauty.

patience

Patience and Love agreed to meet at a set time and place; beneath the twenty-third tree in the olive orchard. Patience arrived promptly and waited. She checked her watch every so often but still, there was no sign of Love.

Was it the twenty-third tree or the fifty-sixth? She wondered and decided to check, just in case. As she made her way over to the fifty-sixth tree, Love arrived at twenty-three, where Patience was noticeably absent.

Love waited and waited before deciding he must have the wrong tree and perhaps it was another where they were supposed to meet.

Meanwhile, Patience had arrived at the fifty-sixth tree, where Love was still nowhere to be seen. 

Both begin to drift aimlessly around the olive orchard, almost meeting but never do.

Finally, Patience, who was feeling lost and resigned, found herself beneath the same tree where she began. She stood there for barely a minute when there was a tap on her shoulder.

It was Love.

"Where are you?" She asked. "I have been searching all my life."

"Stop looking for me," Love replied, "and I will find you."

— Lang Leav, Lullabies

Through Your Eyes

God speaks to me through different ways, and one of those ways, is through songs. I'm gonna start this random series of posts where I share songs that I feel walked me through certain stages of my life, and some, still. For lack of a better thing to do perhaps, but these songs are close to my heart. Songs that I sing by myself whenever I need it. It's an ever growing list.

The first song to kick-start this list is Jenny and Tyler's Through Your Eyes.

We all go through seasons. Seasons of being in the wilderness, and of attaining the promise. Seasons of dry spells, and overflowing rivers. Of sowing, and reaping. This song speaks to me when I find myself in the desert; wandering, lost, and just barren.

When all that's around me reek of me being a failure — the blank pages, abandoned guitars. When I find my own thoughts creaking in, telling me how I'm worthless and wasting my time. When I fail Him, giving into temptation and falling into sin. There are days that "he" wins; defeating my courage, wearing me down. 

And he whispers ever so gently, 'No one else has to know about this.' 'Keep your walls up.' 'People don't really care.' 'You don't matter.'

I know these words are wrong, but I still believe these lies.

The line at the end: “I want to see myself through Your eyes,” is a desperate cry to see myself as the Lord sees me. Not what my parents see, not what my pastor sees, not what my peers see, not even what I see. But what He sees in me. 

I hope that this song may be of use to you, as it has been, and still is, to me.

Here's the story behind the song: https://jennyandtyler.wordpress.com/2011/05/16/through-your-eyes-story-behind-the-song/

highway to hell

Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one — the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.

— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

an adieu

that's another chapter done and dusted for you. how time flies huh? you begin your next chapter in a few days time, as i'm still in the midst of finishing mine.

perhaps this is some divine intervention to remind me that you are miles ahead of me. that you are beyond my reach, and that i need to stop clinging on to your shadow.

and now, maybe all you will be is just a part of my past.

but for what it's worth, these pages and memories that i have of you will always be cherished. i only hope that my name has as much significance in the past chapters of your life, as yours did in mine.

so i bid you fare well with your new chapter, and the ones to come. keep on writing, and write well.

i'll keep writing too.

bond

'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone.'

'It all depends on what you want. You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin — to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours — closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. 

'We are your friends, Frodo. We are horribly afraid — but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.'

— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

an opinion on church-hopping

"The Church, being a unity of place and not of likings, brings people of different classes and psychology together in the kind of unity He desires.

The congregational principle, on the other hand, makes each church into a kind of club, and possibly, into a coterie or faction.

The search for a 'suitable' church makes the man a critic where God wants him to be a pupil."

— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

vestige

Have you ever encountered moments where you notice a random person in a completely irrelevant place and feel as though you have a special connection with said person? Allow me to elaborate.

A proper example: you're sitting in the back of a crowded bus. The bus stops, and a new influx of passengers enters with the departure of a few. But there's this one person that catches your eye for no apparent reason. There's just something about him or her that evokes a sense of familiarity. And so your eyes trail the person.

There's nothing special about her (let's keep it at that to save time and effort), she looks just as ordinary as anyone — okay, maybe she's slightly attractive. Nonetheless, there's nothing physically out-of-this-world about her, yet her presence is anything but ordinary.

She catches sight of you, then quickly doubles back to avoid the impending awkwardness. Perhaps she too feels that strange connection.

You cast the thought aside in favor of worrying about some petty affair in your life that really isn't worth worrying about. Nonetheless, that girl stays glued to the back of your head. You keep returning to the thought of her and that peculiar connection. 

The bus stops again, and she leaves casting not a glance at you.

You can't forget that person and how for a brief moment you felt that odd mutual understanding. You think about her for days, then she just slips past your memory.

aleph

The doors open with a noise that echoes down the platform, and people start to move. 

Who are these people climbing into the carriages? What does this journey mean to each passenger? A reunion with their loved ones, a family visit, a quest for wealth, a triumphant or shamefaced return home, a discovery, an adventure, a need to flee or to find. 

The train is filling up with all these possibilities.

— Paulo Coelho, Aleph

~

am currently in awe of his kindness; of his willingness to use me — someone so undeserving.

life set down in notes

I love music. Don't you?

There's something about it that completes life. There isn't a soul on this earth that can honestly say that he or she hates music, am I right? We all love it. Sure, we have our own choice of genres, but the truth remains, we cannot live without music. 

Where words fail, music somehow delivers. Hence, the existence of instrumental music. It's almost as if the musical notes that resonate through the air are somehow able to be translated into words. What words exactly? No clue. But to the discerning listener, they are the right words. And all of a sudden, the indescribable is said.

Someone once said that not all poets are writers; that perhaps musicians are poets too. I think so too.

just like a match, you strike to incinerate

i don't think parents know

just how powerful their words are

to their children

how deep their words cut

maybe it's because

they think we're still kids

that we'll grow out of it

or

get used to it

i don't think our parents know

that we never grew out of it

i don't think our parents know

that we didn't just get used to it

we grew with it

we adopted it

we adopted the pain

we adopted the wounds

we adopted the scars

"you hate me

so i hate me too"

self-hate which

led to self-harm

self-harm of the acceptable kind

smoking, cutting, drugs, alcohol, pornography

acceptable, simply because

our parents fueled it

acceptable, because

we're just kids.

and so i wouldn't mind dying now. dying young. they say that the good die young. maybe this way i will finally be known as 'good'. Whatever in hell that means.

retribution

Is it wrong to pray for the death of a person? What if everyone, and every community that said person is in contact with, will benefit from his/her death? Or perhaps the positives of his/her death outnumbers the negatives. Then, would it be acceptable to pray or hope for his/her death?

Is it wrong to be happy when the wicked falters? Is it wrong to rejoice when the evil perish?

I frankly don't think it is. Does thinking this, in turn, make me evil?

Do people not rejoice when a tyrant is brought down? Did most nations not erupt in jubilee when it was confirmed that Hitler committed suicide?

Or perhaps they too were evil for celebrating the end of their oppression.

No, you're right. How can I be a leader if I'm still so shitty?

Why am I a leader? I should just quit right?

I also don't know lol.

advice from neil gaiman

http://zenpencils.com/comic/50-neil-gaiman-make-good-art/

Words to live by.

Art is a beautiful thing no? Be it visual, literary, or performing arts, they're all avenues of a human expression that is so captivating. The way it is able to tell stories; to breathe life.

I recently started to follow the wise words of mister Gaiman. The tail end of last year was a bit of a rough time, so I used it as an opportunity to follow his advice. I wrote in my journal, I tried my hand in poetry (as cheesy as it sounds), I wrote songs, I made music. Channeling all that raw emotion into what I'd like to think is art.

In my anger, I wrote. In my sorrow, I played my guitar. In my foolish teenage sadness, I sang songs. And I find that there's no better way to overcome such deep emotions than to make art. 

I think it's amazing how in every season, good art can be made. I think the comic in the link up there perfectly exemplifies how art can be made in bad times. But let's not forget to make good art in the good times too. Write poetry. Write love songs. Dance. Sing. Make beautiful music.

The point is: make good art.

but i'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

it hurts to the core.

but don't take the pain away from me. don't give me comfort, not just yet.

the pain reminds me that i, at the very least, still care. despite how long it's been, how far the distance, how much we've changed. i still care. the pain reminds me that despite this brokenness, there was happiness. and that's enough for me.

perhaps this pain carries a hope. a hope that one day we'll be able to correct this mess. but now what's left is a glimmer, and if it's not to be, what am i to say?

just don't take the pain away from me. not just yet.

sting

what is a person supposed to do when he or she is inflicted with pain? what would you do to try to quell the pain?

i busied myself.

volunteering for events I never really cared about. helping out anyone in any avenue possible despite being exhausted. doing this, and that, and then more.

all this in hopes that dear mind will be distracted from sorry heart. in hopes that the pain will numb, and eventually evanesce.

but the pain remains. and it still hurts like hell.

more of the same please

I'm just going to make this as quick as I can, but it'll still be pretty long haha, so forgive me.

If I could sum up 2014 in a word, it would be this: uncomfortable

One of the major events for me last year was going off to National Service. Now, I don't think I've given NS much justice when sharing about my experience, nonetheless I have my reasons. NS was thoroughly uncomfortable for me. I was the only banana (non-chinese-speaking Chinese) in the whole camp, but lucky for me, it was where I trained my Cantonese haha. Another thing to note is that there's a lot of racial barriers in NS, but it was also in NS that I witnessed one of the best examples of unity among Malaysians. More on that some other time, although it probably is way overdue haha.

Another uncomfortable thing about this year? College. I am horrible at making new friends; so much so that throughout the whole semester I only made two 'friends'. Even then, I haven't spoken to them since the semester ended. So yeah. I felt like an outcast lots of times, being surrounded by some 'interesting' characters. It was also in college that I really felt the pressure of being a Christian, from a teacher no less. The story's a bit complicated, so I'll leave it at that for now.

Oh yeah I was officially made a youth 'leader' in 2014. Again, uncomfortable. I didn't expect lots of things to be the way they are, and how difficult and discouraging it can be to be a youth 'leader'. To think that Wes, Sau Mun, and Mel have been at it for 7 years.. Nevertheless, in every labor and toil, the worker is worthy of his keep. Being a 'leader' really is challenging, but extremely rewarding. 

One of the proudest moments for me last year was that I shared in youth for the first time, prophesied over someone for the first time, and also for the first time ever, the devotion material for camp wasn't done by SM! It was done by Neil and yours truly heh. A stepping stone towards change perhaps, but I feel that in every small triumph that I enjoy, God puts me through some trying times, simply to remind me that 'hey, that was all Me, not you.'

I guess this year, God has been exposing me to all kinds of people. From kampung boys, to sophisticated party-kakis, I feel that God is showing me the different sides to Malaysia that aren't apparent, but are very much present. And just how much each one of us need His love.

So yeah, it's been one hell of a year. One thing that I set out to do last year, was to make mistakes, which I did. Some I deeply regret, some not so much. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Because I've learnt so much from these mistakes, the kind which can't come by watching but only through experience. 

Few minor good things about 2014: I read more, wrote more, blogged more, stalked more (lolwat), made some new friends, lost a few, grew closer to some, prayed more (but barely enough), worshiped more, bought less gear, learnt more..but most importantly, I've fallen deeper in love with Him.

And so here's to more. More of the same, hopefully, but above all, more of Him.

~

a boring man's bucket list

Some of the things that I've managed to achieve the past year go as follows:

• Went on a holiday without family
• Kicked a coral while snorkelling (even have the scars to prove it!!!)
• Got stopped by the cops
• Got a job
• Shaved my head bald
• Stopped numerous fights (bangga)
• Had my pants pulled down by a friend
• Pulled down a friend's pants
• Did rappelling!!!
• Shot an M16!!!
• Got my own room (YAASSSS)
• Got my driver's license (YAASSSS x2)
• Got a proper pedalboard
• Improved musically (i think lah haha)
• went to college (not that i had a choice)
• got inked
• dropped my phone and cracked it
• fixed my phone
• Gained weight
• Grew shorter (i kid you not)
• lost my shit
• gathered my shit
• then lost it again

Meant to be humorous. I'll do a proper review of the past year soon I promise.