[short]: reverting back to this web blog

Apparently, I found myself lost without a community back in Blogspot.

So I have decided to change and switch back to Xanga.

More posts coming up, and my sincerest apologies for being isolated for awhile.

 

By the way, Merry Christmas guys!

[reflection]: solitudes' purposes

We often thought about solitude as something that has unnatural means of interaction with self, or in a state of 'deep spirituality'. I am not too sure if that works in different places in the world, but it certainly worked thus back here. We are too often concerned about the state of 'constant get-together' concept that 'every weekends are spent with friends and family'. Hardly you see things outside whereby people are alone most of the time. Even if they do, there is a high chance that they were having appointments somewhere, and they are commuting public transport to get there.

Well, not so much of a bad thing, but we often forget the significance of reflecting about things, and taking serious notes about the character we have. I don't mean this to be something productive. Instead, it could be an idea that is 'counter-productive' in the human sense for our current generation. You may need to spend time in silence, thinking about things in life that probably could be random and very much dispersed. You may not be concentrating on simple things, but of extremely complex ideas that may have taken much toll on what you can handle alone. In the end, the effort might not only be 'counter-productive' but also being sublimed by the 'lack of improvement' from where you begin.

Somehow, I wondered if making a difference in that moment really matter that much.

We are given several decades of living. If we were to expect ourselves to be a better person (or a more improved person) within a couple of decades, then what is there for us to live for the remaining years? Sure there will be new struggles, but having we thought about this primarily more akin towards excuse than root reasons? If there are things in life that 'rudely' come over us expecting us some form of 'action-result' combination, are we to immediately have them solved?

I read an article from Henri Nouwen that challenged me a lot - and brought me down to think hard about being in solitude and being 'slow' in the process of getting things done. Sometimes, in real life, God actually hinted on moments where it is necessary to remind His sovereignty instead of our pathetic lordship.

Henri suggested that perhaps we are so consumed with the culture of 'living in the fullest with people around' that we often meet up every day, every week, and hopefully every moment to talk, share and rant about things. Definitely in the Christian culture, this is commendable. In fact in the early churches people often meet up and be in fellowship with one another. The meal partaken symbolically represents the reminder that we are the body, not 'stand-alone'. However, Henri urged to have moments where we could hone the moment of 'solitude', and put melancholy in life to reflect about things. It would do good to remain in silence for a while. Imagining that might actually surprisingly let God come into the midst and speak to us. That seems to put a definition on prayer, doesn't it?

Further down the article I was quite embarrassed when the article pushed through the notion of 'productive' and insist on doing things 'counter-productive'. Sometimes, we often want to get things done, without understanding the after-effect of our entire being being physically and mentally fatigue later on, not realizing that the effort itself also took a toll over our spiritual state. Merely compartmentalizing will not help to see how every of our effort meant anything to the entire being. There hence, Henri suggested to see that all things worked for the greater good of what God purposes in our lives. So, rather than trying to push too much for getting things done, when there is a season for being 'slow', why not take that time to be 'slow' and 'reflect' about things in life?

Food for thought, perhaps.

[poem]: our right to be top... and what we lost...

sadness engulfed, none denied,

whatever that is lost, yet memory attained.

denial in heart yet the longing to will,

at least some hope in this brutal insanity.

too much was given, too much was expected,

none to listen, who could lend a shoulder to bear.

between you and me, lays a racing track,

who's the first is the ultimate priority.

a hand to help, so much to bear,

'cause of the onlookers, so shy to care.

here there hence I am, fending things on my own,

with people 'advising', why don't you leave it alone?

sometimes wonder i did, would life be better off,

caring for your own soul, then go into the world to offer.

seems like charity works best when you are at your best,

then offering to people didn't pinch much to your own.

but wait - if that's true, then what does sacrifice mean?

what o'all the point then to live and to die?

when we have people in need, and we give what we could,

even at the expense on our own life, we would give it all.

my dear, i think we need to think,

our selfishness may send us to our best.

but at the end of the competing road,

would we care for others, even when the end is nigh?

[observation - and penitence]: when the others say...

I was having my lunch earlier on at one of the highly populated working district in Singapore, when I got the chance to sit beside a group of people chatting about life.

The conversation was very much typical daily lifestyle-related, but when it comes to the topic of something closer, I am rather disturbed but the way certain people opinionated.

"You know, iPhone new software iOS 5 really sucks. It is making my Facebook slower. Then for those users who used to jailbreak, now they cannot jailbreak at iOS 5 anymore. I want to download free software now cannot, because need to pay. It is not fair you know? It is making life more difficult. I am so used to download free new movies, music, software. Why can't they understand we consumers have the highest say over things? It is not fair to not have everything for free!"

If it is meant to be on a stand up comedy impromptu, that should be fine. However, I was genuinely surprised when the discussion was not only dead serious, it was an announcement against the anti-piracy movement. The lady (who happened to look pretty & young, appealing on the outside) appeared to notoriously claim that consumers should have everything for free.

That really disturbed me, especially when the notion of consumer being gods are the prominent theme in the conversation.

As I went off, walking down the isle towards a nearby coffee cafe, I noted the surrounding area, and I couldn't help but notice the apathy the people there have towards poverty. There are plenty of maids, cleaners, building contractors and several 'lower class jobs' hanging around the central area where there is man-made green pastures, and there are job executives hanging around smoking and calling on their iPhones, 'Blackberry'-es, etc. One particular poignant visual that captivated me was when a Caucasian, with his Singaporean female counterpart, were smoking around a corner close to the green pasture, and an old man lying across the green pasture sleeping. Obviously their casual, occasionally loud laughter may have disturbed the poor soul for sleeping, letting alone the fact that the couple were smoking.

I was not happy seeing the visual, but with extraordinary contempt I decide to look around. One do not need to come back another day to see the same vision everywhere around. It hurt me to see - how much the technology has advanced to appease the consumer, and we have people left behind, without even thinking about the hard work they have provided every single day of their life.

It is sad that we lived in a consumerism idealism, that we all deserved the best of what we have for a price so low that every one could afford, yet even the people left for poverty were left to fend on their own. I often thought about the social justice we all always tried to advocate, and how much we send people overseas for mission field - but where is our strength when we see the same state of poverty lying at our front door? Would we shove them off, and try to step over those in need around us, and jump towards the neighborhood further downtown? Isn't that absurd?

These thoughts are easy to pen down, but to apply and to learn to use - even I have difficulties applying them. And I struggle to. But when I think about the vision where we meet Jesus, it shivers me to think that Jesus might not recognize us.

"Depart from me, you evil one. For when I am naked, you leave me be. When I am hungry, you didn't give me food to eat. When I am shivering with cold, you did not clothe me with a cloak."

"When did we ever see you naked, hungry and shivering with cold?"

"The least of those you did not do unto, you didn't do for me."

Penitence, and repentance. And I, upon seeing it here, walk up to the poor soul - and placed the water bottle for him. And he continued sleeping, ignoring the noise around the city - as if the surroundings are part and parcel of who he is.

Sometimes I wished that I can offer more than just a water bottle. A Living Water, perhaps. But my consciousness... always stopped me. Always put me on hold.

Lord... have mercy on me.

[short reflection]: where does contempt bring us?

I remembered looking upon the scarlet heart advertised on the screen every weekend on church services - displaying video clips downloaded from websites to inspire youths and young adults of a generation that is media-savvy and heavily driven.

We all are very great hearers, to be frank. And we are excellent critics of watchers as well.

"Oh the video reminds me of God's love, and how we should demonstrate the love to our neighbors, our families, our colleagues, our schoolmates."

"The video is stimulating! God speaks to us today as relevant, through the visuals! Thank God for talented people like those who created these videos!"

As relevant as they are (in which I would not dispute), I beg to differ on how much these would actually convicts us in long term.

I see the same group of people (not immediate similarity, but of the same characters that I know of), who have expressed their desire and their hunger to pursue God's righteousness through Facebook and Twitter, and at the next moment starts condemning the group of people they find irritable. Notably the people condemned were 'fortunately cleaners, contractors and installers' who have no sense of civic mindedness and cultured mentality.

I observed some who actually were on the train station, while giving up the seats for the elderly, were bad mouthing the poor foreigners who despite their able physicality, were just 'not well-kempted enough' to deserve a seat. The elders, who have great jewelry and obviously well mannered, were prioritized.

I happened to know some very godly people who have told me of their testimony of reaching out to people of many ages in their working place and various area of evangelism and describe the many eventual witnesses, and yet - when it comes to appreciating work - weekend's the only eventual goal, 'so that we could rest in Him, and meet up with church friends for movies, Wii, XBOX, and football matches'.

I somehow wondered, at times, where would I be? I often fail too in my conduct, and I noted that I have been very edgy in accommodating with people I found distaste with. There are some who actually did irked me and I actually lamented to my supervisors how much I disliked their working ethics - without actually directing and guiding them.

I hate the work of deception, especially when dealing with acknowledging the spiritual poverty in our selves. However, I cannot help but feel guilty every night thinking how much I thought I have 'higher ground' than those of my church friends who apparently think that they are 'highly spiritual'. And we all have besetting sins, some that are willingly committed, some may not be obvious. How often I forget that I am also part of the condemned party.

Where does contempt bring us in this generation? How are we far from the spiritual state that brought our forefathers such as John Wesley, Martin Luther, St. John on the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, and even our immediate counterparts like Billy Graham, David Pawson, John Piper - to their knees and pray that 'God will have mercy on us all. Forgive us of our sins.'?

I am learning too myself. To give up the debauchery life, and away from the dose of lust - and hoping to seek community that can truly support, no matter what, each other. However, how are we able to extend the invitation to others who desperately need Christ through our feeble hands - yet not feeling the distasteful dissent of our human counterparts who may have practiced preferences over different people - and may not like to mix with us eventually?

I extend this question to all earnest pilgrims, and also to myself - to remind myself of my fallen self.

Lord have mercy on us all.

[short post]: a good friend tells me...

Strangely, in the middle of me standing by for a sound event, in which I was the engineer in charge of the sound programming.

And out of kindness he told me to pursue and not to stick to current life.

I think about it, and I realized there are a few people who already tell me that I should continue my passion as a bassist, if not a sessionist.

But I have recently just thrown off my dream because of the sad, realistic world whereby the higher goal you chase, the lonelier you become, and the worse person you will become.

So... after what he told me in length, I am left to wonder should I really rethink my decision?

A good church friend told me similar too, and that bothers me a lot.

[temporary shut down post]: moving to another blog site

Hey guys,

Turn out that I have been having difficulties trying to access my blog from home. I have to go outside where I can use my smartphone tethering in order to access to Xanga. Not sure why, but the slight inconvenience it has caused me initially has gradually become a difficult task occasionally. Knowing that I have severe random bouts of writing inspiration, this inconvenience has caused me some difficulties.

So I have decided to move to another blog site, which I used to maintain it during my late university years. It has been my constant reflection on very starkly emotional post and of which once in a while, I will look back at those and felt impressed upon God's hand on me when I reflected on what has happened.

For those interested: http://renjinko.blogspot.com

I currently leave the comments column on the left side, not just for blog-relevance, but also for simple and short prayers. I thought that simple penning down sometimes do mean a lot to me, because they came in like a simple word of encouragement from the Lord too. By the way, I thought that it would be nice that you can leave in your email for further correspondence as I treasure continuity in friendship, not just simple 'hi-dropby-bye' kind of conversation.

I might come back once in awhile just to be ensured that I can start accessing Xanga from home, but in the meantime, I will use 'Blogspot'. So, hopefully you can bear with me the inconvenience.

Thanks and I appreciate the occasional love showered upon. Thank you so much. 

[update]: moving from another blogsite to HERE

After the 2 years I had, I constantly update my Xanga-blog, as I found the page to be rather community-oriented, and very accountable.

Several months back I found difficulties in accessing the website, and frequent disconnection. As my writer-block became rather random nowadays, I find it hard to keep up with the erratic performances running on Xanga.

And so, I have decided to navigate away from that blog for a while and refreshing my 'secret' blog site that I have not been maintaining ever since my university years.

Note, however that I occasionally post some rather emotionally-drenched blog posts that I have written on Xanga as well. Certain posts deserve preservation, I suppose.

For those who came in from Xanga, thanks a lot for keeping me accountable and continuing to support me through prayers and all. Really appreciate that you come in. Now that we are using different platform, I hope the prayers can still be left, and certain lengthier ones can be further expanded through emails. Do let me know though, if the interface here seems distracting. I have customized a lot of them here, and if there's a need for additional features do let me know. I will see what I can do.

Lastly, blessed be you'all for dropping by. Thanks a lot. Really appreciate it.

[reflective]: the dangerous tide

Normally, when I purposefully put a long silence in-between post, it would be safe to conclude that there are things in life that are bothering me such that I couldn't have much time sitting down in my favorite 'outdoor-school compound' within the city to do my reflection. Most of the time it would be due to work commitment.

However, for the recent weeks, though the work commitment took the same amount of precedence compared to the rest of my other 'problematic' concerns, I have more serious concern on the level of appropriate-ness I am treating my life.

Bear with me though - this post may not sound the same as how you know of me, based on the post put up earlier. There's a lot of 'catching up' in terms of trying to get the writer's block back. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

The longer I worked in my current company, the more I felt that I need to rethink the notion of 'perfect work for life'. I remember when I was younger - having the notion of wanting to do the kind of job that will satisfy my life and be able to live the dream that everyone dreams of. I thought that being a sound designer would be an ideal, knowing that at the very least - that was my interest, and that is what I think I can do best. 

Well, after some time, I thought it wrong. Living in our broken and fallen world - no matter how 'ideal' the situation is, you will still have to meet up to the corrupted world. The corrupted working hierarchy, the broken work ethic, the 'inhuman' part of our human nature, and the sinful nature of eventuality. Nothing is perfect.

Even in the face of 'idealism'. 

I have been crafted to do sound design for many conferencing solution, and just when I start to get the hang of it and start getting some reputation, I have to deal with the broken human relation and how selfish people are. When I hope to have people lending their supports for me, somehow I am being stuck in the rut, and I am the only person needing to get away with it. Others don't seem to care.

And for months I have observed the way people work, and I start to realize - whether secular or religious (even Christian-dominated circumstances), we can never get away from being fallen and being around the fallen people. Somehow, you will still need face them. And need to at times fight against them. 

I have been thinking of leaving this job for a while. Seriously tired with whatever that is happening, I want to take some time to discover more things in life. I chose to work in an underpaid work, with worse environment and humbler setting, in hoping that I would learn to mature (as I have gradually believe that harsh times hone better men) - but now I realized that not only have I succumb to the temptation of being wild and restless (just like the contractors who I worked with), but I have started to lose some ground for self-contemplation. Many concerns I have in mind have gradually changed from being kinder to being more urgent. And the real issue to address human relations have subsided so much that now I am like one of those people who I took pity upon when I first joined in: being brusque. 

A friend noted yesterday that I have become harsher, less patient, and very vulgar at times. My endurance for stress level has deteriorated, and if I were to continue without resting I might end up being directionless, and eventually being lost. I dislike this friend cause of some of his characteristics that I felt very unwelcoming, but he has brought home a point that humbly silence me. He is right. I am getting lost.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I have not been able to commit in a relationship anymore, after what I have gone through with first and second, and I am not sure if I am keen to go on for a third one yet. Not that I am still grieving for the first 2, but I am unsure of what I want to eventually. Time after time, I wished that I could remain single and be alone just be anonymous. I have times where I look on the white pale wall beside me and I wished that my existence will not leave any single mark on that untainted wall. However, thinking about how I have once meant something in that 2 girls life before, I started to wonder what is life for me.

But worst of all, I have felt a lot indifferent about things, and when I attend a sermon, most of the time I felt tearful to see how much I have veered away from what God has originally intended. I offered myself as a musician to God when I was in my late teens, and now the songs that I have been playing have not been very 'worship-ly'. Sad songs about my existence, and how much I would like to get away just to get myself a quiet space seems a lucrative option, but what should I do in that period? I have stopped a while meeting with friends and counselor who felt that my existence matters more to them than to myself, but I couldn't bring up myself to see and talk to them. Would they want to listen to a person who has become a beast now? He who has more apathy towards being a better person - who anyone cares for guy like this? 

I wore the label of being indifferent when I was younger, because I know how exhausted I was in caring for them. When younger, the more I cared for my friends, the more hurt I felt when they hurled insults and back stabbed me. I could only hold my tears because of the notion of being a 'tough guy'. Now, there are no more tears to dry, because all the sadness has become a normality in my daily life. 

"Never trust anyone. What's the point?"

----------------------------------------------------------------

Yesterday, I purposefully discussed my financial situation to my financial planner because of what I see myself being imminently impoverished with my current lifestyle. Due to taking a pay cut, much of my lifestyle cannot remain as how it used to be. And I didn't realize it until I saw myself in debt for 3000 to a friend and have not been able to punctually pay the monthly rental - and still struggling to pay of my study loan which still worth about 20K. Worst of all, I have yet to tell my parents because I am ashamed to tell them about my inability to spend wisely.

I don't know if this logic works right, but I give my money a lot to church and donation, because I felt they deserve more than me. But I do spend some money on savings plan in order to live a better life in the future. So I reasoned myself that I may suffer now, but when I got older, having a family, they might have a better life.

3 years into this, and I realized that I have made a huge mistake in deluding myself thinking that I could reason things through. In actual fact, I have not thought about living 'with a family', and I have not spend appropriately on things that are meant to be. Every month, I have enough just to survive, and perhaps I may have owed many more than saving up more. At my present age, this is not a good way, and I will eventually squander off everything that I should have, and be a prodigal myself.

Perhaps when I was still in my previous company, I should have swallowed the pride and remained working in that company, and tried to at least look practically at the income that they have provided for me. It is quite high and at that time I still managed to pay off my loan, my rental, and have some money for my family. 

Now, after all these discussion, my financial planner decides to be more blunt and requested that I be accountable to her for the finance spent.

"You need to be honest not just with me, but with your mentor, your family and above all, yourself. If you keep on doing this, you will only make yourself becoming worst. No amount of high salary can help you get in shape."

Somehow, talking to a sister-in-Christ who is also a financial planner, who also is someone of same generation makes things easier to get blunt and brutally honest. After all, if I continue to delude myself thinking that I am still alright, things might get worse off than where it started.

"Now, first thing first - get your basic right. You need to have at least an emergency fund. Afterwards, we will talk about investment, better savings plan. But now, I will not take a single penny from you until you are able to make sure you understand first your own financial crisis. Don't talk about the debt ceiling increases in US, the many debt crisis alluding in Europe, the unhealthy economic booming in Third World Countries. Look - how much knowledgeable will never get you to understand that you need help. You can only look at yourself, and see with your naked eyes how bad things are."

Of course, I wished she would say those, but she didn't. Nevertheless she tried to tell me to consider first what situation am I having before thinking in the bigger picture. That revelation of her words humbled me.

And I start to realize that it is important to slow things down, and breathe in one at a time. One step at a time. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

I decide that it is time to find back the friends who used to be very communicative with me and talk it out. Thankfully, they share the same belief with me, so it is easier to talk. I do realized that there are times when I sugarcoated or exaggerated some truth in order to add element of drama, but as time goes, I realized there's no point adding flavor to what has happened. Eventually I need to acknowledge that I need to do something about it. It may take days, weeks, months even years to get it right, but at least I need to understand that it needs to get right. 

Perhaps I can start first by drafting a few emails. Perhaps. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

[reflection]: yearning against loneliness, and finding my way home through films

It has been a while, as I traveled from Singapore to Japan, then to China, then on recent notes to Thailand, and I didn't expect my heart to be especially kindled by the same issue that has been my constant Achilles' heels. And now that I think of it - I am actually surprised that I couldn't see it in the first place.

As I left my recent relationship, and almost got myself into trouble recently with one of my colleagues, I suddenly realize how easy I am to succumb to temptation, and never once got over the point blank issue of my hunger for relationship.

When I think about my yearning for relationship, I can see the shadows of the first girlfriend that I had awhile back, then very faintly the second, and some of those that I have fond memories with. Unwillingly I succumb to the idea that I needed a companion to be fuller.

To set the record straight, I believe yearning for relationship is a good thing. It is a natural desire, and it is the reason why we can never live alone. I tried for several years, and to no avail have I yet see a time when I am able to live on my own. And strangely, it is in those moment when I am given the opportunity to be alone - that I am most alone. 

{my yearning}

I often see my cell group mates (most of them are married) with their partners alongside them, and I often hope to have someone who is likewise - kind heart and gentle, willing to listen, and willing to pray with me together. I often imagine my girlfriend to be someone who I can talk to, speak to, love with, and ultimately able to share the journey of faith with me through thick and thin. However as time past by, I grew impatient about the desire, and looked around for cheaper alternative. So long as she is pretty, that should be good enough. The rest can come in later.

And so for that 3 years I wasted my many first times with people I thought I could live forever. And the innocence lost is replaced by vigil heart to be less receptive and more calculative. When I think about it yesterday I was very dismayed how much I have lost - the purity of loving.

I often asked of God, "Why am I given such a situation where there's no one in church who I can seek out to love? Why did I subject myself to find things outside, without really looking into the heart, and finding cheap alternatives?" I remembered one very time, where I actually cried after that prayer so bad that I vomited in the toilet - because of the nausea feeling of thinking about potentially finding someone God has provided. The prayer proved revealing about what I really think about relationship, and what I yearn to be.

Despite that, for years I still hesitate to pray about finding someone for me - because of the fear to find someone close to me and losing them eventually. Perhaps that's why I have been putting on barriers on people. Perhaps

{the learning}

Whilst it is true that I may consider the days I have gone through as something of regrets, gradually I felt the need to embrace those moments as part of growing up. Somehow, in the midst of those sad moments and tragedies, we often see souls burned with courage to live on - and those who survived lived to tell the stories much different compared to simply living.

I am not sure how everyone feels but the first girlfriend perhaps is the most memorable to many people, including myself. She taught me how to love even simple people, and simple being. She may not be a healthy young girl, but she always advised me to cherish myself and to learn to love myself. I remembered 2 years after our break up, she actually told me to forgive myself for breaking up the relationship. She may or may not have moved on, but she taught me to be kinder to myself. And that built my self-esteem little by little each day, till this day. 

The second taught me the joy of loving and giving. She may not be as pertinent when it comes to handling relationship, and she is a very mischievous one, but she taught me on loving people and giving people what they deserve. She often commented on my insensitivity - which is really quite awful whenever I heard it. I dare not claim myself to be sensitive but I do know a lot of people who claimed me to be very sensitive - a traits that sometimes paralyzed me whenever I felt contemplative after seeing seemingly regular event on the street. But she showed me further on sensitivity and always attend to the needs of needy people. She brought to mind a lot of hard questions, and eventually at the end I was exhausted with them. But those questions remained as part of my soul-searching on earth, and I continued to search of answers to live by the questions and answers.

I believe each and everyone of my friends - good and bad - taught me the meaning of life, whether in small or big ways. There may be things that they taught wrong, and there may be things that eventually speak for themselves what's more valuable in the experience that has been gone through - but I do believe that each day warrants itself a reason to be teachable, under any circumstances. And it is never something that can be learned in a package in any school, whether public, or home school, or even in colleges, in universities, etc.

{the prodigality}

I was watching 2 movies on forgiveness yesterday, based on the account of Communism in Russia, and I was moved greatly by the evocation of forgiveness and healing comes from people determined to live for them. The first movie, 'The Way Back' relates an account of Janusz Wieszczek and 6 others who chronicled their journey (in which 3 of them passed away in the middle of the journey - though evidently they died as free men) escaping from Siberia to Himalaya, and Peter Weir (the director) didn't dramatized the event except to put into a glimpse of beauty in the midst of harsh realism. The image of coming home never left him, and he even at occasions hallucinated about it - which sometimes almost caused him death. The most poignant scene came when stories of Janusz and his compatriot Mr. Smith talked in the night at the desert of Mongolia, of the reason why both were jailed. Mr. Smith had previously brought his son over to Russia to escape the Depression without knowing that eventually the son was forced to betray his father on scams against Stalinism. Janusz faced the same predicament with his wife, though Mr. Smith's son was shot in the end of the betrayal. Mr. Smith couldn't live with the regret and swayed through living with the regret and unable to forgive himself. Janusz, on the other hand, found reason to keep on living despite harsh mother nature because he wanted to come back home. In that memorable scene, Janusz recounted how much his wife couldn't forgive herself for betraying him, and knowing that the only offer for her to live and die in peace is to be able to go home and forgive her and live together with her. Janusz said this at the moment when Mr. Smith was contemplating death and decided that he was slowing them down. Janusz gave him hope to believe to continue living to forgive himself as part of the journey. Eventually Mr. Smith lived to tell the story as well, and so is Janusz.

The second movie caught me in tears though. I have watched it before, but for the sake of recounting the pains after Nazism and the reconciliation, I decide to turn to 'Le Concerto' (The Concert) - a French and Russia movie on a Jewish Russian who used to be an accomplished conductor for Bolshoi Symphony of Russia until a Stalinism took over and caused Jewish to be sent to Siberia camp. A couple, both acclaimed musicians and soloist for the symphony - were forced to send their baby to a French music agent who happened to hear the music of this Jewish Russian, Andrei, in the symphony. Several years later, after several misfortune, Andrei who was then working as a toilet cleaner in the orchestra halls found an opportunity to conduct a symphony in Chatelet Orchestra Hall in France. And with great pain he managed to find the daughter of the acclaimed musicians - , who happened to be an acclaimed solo violinist, and in different settings, Andrei finally revealed to her the true parents, and their passion to finding music to reach across even beyond nationalism, as global evangelism. 

What struck me hard were 2 things. The first one is when montages of the past seen by Andrei were slowly being revealed to Anne Marie, the daughter of the famed Jewish violinist of Bolshoi Orchestra Lea Strum. The beauty of the montages were that the first part of the flashbacks were revealed by Andrei himself (in several fits of alcoholic outburst) and the rest was when Anne-Marie played her part in the Tchaikovsky piece - finding in music the reason for her being accomplished. Although at times quite dramatic, Andrei was trying to tell Anne-Marie her actual identity and for her to embrace her Jewish descent. Prior to this, Anne-Marie has fondness towards Jewish composers, Tchaikovsky being one - at the time when the fall of Communism was fresh and still engraved in the mind of several European citizens. Now that she knew about her upbringing, she found greater pride and joy in being a Jewish and eventually found her way back to 'home'. 

The second scene was when Ivan Gavrilov, despite his passion between Communism and managing the symphony, decided not to attend the Communism upheaval in a lecture hall comprises of a few intellects who still believe in Marxism - because of what Andrei pleaded. Andrei told Gavrilov that music itself surpassed the element of communism. Music is a tool that speaks to everyone, and transcend even generations. That is true communism, said Andrei. However, when the symphony actually started, Gavrilov, staying at the backstage, heard otherwise. The symphony were initially in shackles, very disorganized and occasionally off-tuned harmony. Weirdly, Gavrilov actually prayed a prayer, "God, if you ever exist, make this the reason why I stay back and listen to this symphony, and not the rally."

When Anne-Marie started her part for the solo, the whole band was held in captive. The beauty of the chromatic notes first inspired by Tchaikovsky, now played at the tender fingers of a lady whose mother, in her madness to play the music for the world to see the beauty of music that transcend even the power of Communism, seemingly calm the chaotic band of clarinets, violinists, percussionists and violas. The soloist eventually managed to bring the charisma of all the musicians onstage, who were all Jewish descent and from difficult background, together as one symphony. All emotions were laid bare, and the beauty of getting together, especially towards the climatic entrance where all musicians hold onto the major pentatonic scales that was introduced by Tchaikovsky - brought Gavrilov to tears. For years he prayed for unity through the god of communism. He prayed that one day the ideals he believe in communism will shake off the heart of skeptics, and the belief will unite people. Never did he realize that God himself, manifested in a different form, presented to him the songs of Tchaikovsky, who of which struggled through depressions, his sexuality, and lived not a happy person - and through the music finally addressed his urge to find the true God. "I can't believe it, God exist!"

{the reflection}

The beauty of these 2 films, I believe, is the eventual coming home idea. Janusz, who understood that human nature being weak, knows that eventually his wife needs forgiveness. Anne-Marie who being the daughter and struggling to identify herself as being passionate for Tchaikovsky, found out that her parents were not only proponent to Tchaikovsky (who was once considered a mad musician, not far from heavy metal in our context), but also held a higher belief that music gave them the reason not to comply to the Nazism. The identity compelled her to tears, and found greater identity as a proponent of music. Eventually, Andrei, struggling with alcohol addiction after the Nazism, found his root as a musician, and found home the reason to be healed - because music matters more to him.

Although the idea of God and Christ are not revealing in these films, these films brought me home to reflect about His greatness and the coming home. I often associate myself with Andrei, finding no meaning to fight against my own addiction. I am always torn between hunger for relationship and the reason to believe in Him that will sustain me through. And yet, it was the mercies of many people around Andrei (his wife, his band mates, especially Sacha who kept reminding him of the reason to play music) that made him found the meaning to continue pursuing what he believes in. And for someone like me - who is given the gift so many times by the friends around me who kept reminding me that 'one day will come where all your struggles will no longer be, and there will only be joy in communion with Him, and many of those who are there will rejoice in your homecoming'. The film reflection yesterday brought home the point of remaining in Him, and continue to be steadfast in his promises. 

I often think about my yearning for someone right, and I wonder when will that be. But at times, I may have missed the more important message in life. Does having a girlfriend brings much more meaning in life? Probably, but does it add a day of happiness when you are in communion with Christ? Perhaps not. Because at the end of the day, I know, at least, that God has been with me since the time I dedicate myself to Him. He has never left or forsaken me, though at times He seemed to be hiding. In actual fact, He never did run away. Like a child who is blind, we opt to see Him the way we wanted Him to be, but He has been always behind us, leading us in small steps, not revealing himself through obvious means, but in small, simple ways. 

I remembered in the second film, Anne-Marie found out the identity of the parents not through the account from Andrei (though he introduced them to her in the form of third-person-narration), but through playing the music through the score from Lea, her biological mother. Finding the common stroke of emphasis, and also meditatively playing the pieces, Anne-Marie found the footsteps of a musician who she belonged to. At times, I see myself in such reflection as well. Playing some songs close to heart, I can hear the simple whispers of Christ in my head - "Play on, my son. Play on". 

{the exeunt}

I remembered my first girlfriend always tried to encourage me in playing music. "I see the music is built inside you. Seems like I can never separate you from the music. But I understand, because I was also likewise. But I lost interest in it, because of difficult circumstances. But you shouldn't. You should continue, and never give up." Of course she never said in them exhaustively, but she did try to encourage me playing, and never stop me. 

Gradually it came to me that music has been playing a big role in my life ever since I found God giving me the gift. A decade earlier, I prayed to God to give me the gift of music. And in years I thought He answered my prayer in little steps. Little did I know that from young, even before the prayer I prayed, He has already groomed me into a musician in His mind. And that's the reason why I watched movies like "Le Concerto" with great enthusiasm. It reminded me of homecoming to my true "heritage", a musician for Christ. 

Occasionally I will just do random songs, covering, and haven't been writing any since. But seeing my recent reflection, perhaps it is good to start writing one I suppose.

[short note]: need to cry

I'll keep it short: I need to cry.

The grief part - I thought it was over - 2 years of that post-relationship, and when I got into a second one, I thought it was lesser. Then all these memories hit me, and I realized how much the part that is with the first - came in.

I feel sad that I am shy to go to church because of how hard I conceal this emotion. But then again, I am reminded that it is in sadness that draws me closer to Jesus. So why not church?

I chanced upon this song recently, and in my heart, I felt like crying. Like a boy who ended up in prison for something he did wrong, I felt difficult to apprehend the meaning of grace, despite the eventual outcome of consequence. And thus this song became the voice of my heart.

Laura Story - Blessings

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights 
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if trials of this life 
Are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough

And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights 
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

And what if trials of this life 
Are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know the pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGmKC34UZ68

 

[reflection]: the unworthy man

~ {la première mémoire} ~ 

--------------

As I looked at her face, I realized that this would probably be the last time I will see her in this manner. There probably be some more chances along the way, but I believe no longer in this manner.

"I no longer understand what you really want. I don't know what to make up of you, and perhaps it would be better if we think it through whether we would want to continue."

That's a very kind way of initiating a break up, but I thought that the statement aptly described what I think of her. I couldn't much comprehend what she wanted, and thought perhaps this would be the end.

On a cold November last year, while witnessing the beauty of autumn leaves dried up along the alley of Kyoto Shi-jou temple, I reminiscence about a potential love blossom between us, thinking that we are meant to have closer than what we presently represent ourselves. I thought of her favorite animal, and bought a few tortoise handmade in clay specially designed by the kind warm-hearted o-ba-san at the clay-making station along the alley. The hard work and the patience she tolerated with me while I described what my admired girl would like would probably be the incentives motivated me to purchase the inexorably pricey souvenir, but it definitely was well worth. I took a pair to remind myself of the devotion we had - and the sealing of the relationship with that gift as the proposal.

And here I am looking at her, with blithe contempt, and little appreciation from her. Perhaps it was my fault in the first place, with so many commitment at church, in work, in my family, in some friends. And she with her ex-boyfriend, her lousy roommates, her terribly compromising landlord (at the whistle of a blow, the landlord would just run and hide) and of course, her great family background. And I accept the contempt, knowing that as the time goes, this perhaps would not be appropriate to continue any longer. 

I have not heard from her since, which perhaps is a good thing. My head is clearer at times, and I am more sane towards the occasional emotive self. 

--------------

~ {le sarcasme premier} ~

--------------

Every night before sleep, I would just look around my room from the back of my wall in which my bed leaned across. I changed the position, so that I could see a different point of view. The wardrobe being across me looking palely greenish from wear and tear, the abandoned study table, beech in color, left used only when watching movie in my room, the retro-looking bed mattress across mine, almost leaning against the pale wardrobe - which belonged to my roommate who I hardly talk to. The two fans reminding me of the "film noir"-istic art across Asian genre, and above all - the 3 guitars laying in front of me, with a Yamaha keyboard to accompany me.

I remembered the first memory of each of the instrument laid in front, and they were really something.

The first one is the electric guitar, a PRS SE Tremonti custom. I remembered purchasing that at a relatively high price at the pathetic music store in central business area. I didn't want to bargain because I saw the value in it, and definitely felt great playing it even till now. The sound was crisp and fat, especially when jamming along my favorite tune "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen always. I loved the lead line played originally by Brian May, and I didn't realize that the lead line were actually composed by the vocalist of the band, Freddy Mercury, who happened to be a gay and died of Aids during their hey day. Playing good classic songs as tributes, I would jam every day when the guitar were still fresh in me, and almost a year later, it laid in front of the bed most of the time zipped. Now that I think about it, I wondered why I bought that with a price that almost slaughtered my bank account.

The second one is the bass guitar, the Sterling by Musicman Ray35. The vintage Musicman with 5 strings was considered the best investment I ever had. Though relatively expensive, it was considered a deal a lot better than what I could have requisite in a regular music store. I remembered jamming along several funk and jazz tunes along with this bass. My first song that I played definitely was from Red Hot Chili Peppers "Can't Stop", remembering the vintage slap done by Flea, and very classic fat bass tone. Since then, I have been playing the bass mainly in church, and always with great Hillsongs and occasional Israel Houghton pieces. Unfortunately though, the bass didn't get much attention as well - perhaps because of the time spent to set up and to warm down every time.

The keyboard was the third I purchased, telling myself that I need a keyboard to compose song - which was true in fact. During the early days when I was still in my university years, I remembered suddenly able to play the grand piano situated at the piano lounge of my hall without anyone teaching. The touch somehow comes in magically and even some of my hall mates commented how weird they see me playing piano eeriely well, when I tell them it was the first time I touch piano. Since then I wrote a few songs on the grand piano - and upon graduating, I have yet to touch on one. Buying a keyboard is meant for the continuation, but somehow, after 2 years of hectic work, it seems like the motivation grew stale. Now it laid there, rarely been used unless I suddenly had an inspiration.

The last one, the acoustic guitar - that was the only vintage that I use every day, occasionally at night, but mainly during the day. It was one of the humblest instrument I ever had, perhaps unexpected as well. A nice soul in Osaka willed the Yamaha FG-401B to be sold because he disliked the scars he left behind. What he didn't realize was that though the scars drastically reduced the cost price, the sound remained the same. And a poor soul found this guitar well sounded and decided for a mere SGD 60 to purchase this classic, limited edition made in Japan acoustic guitar. The same guitar would be priced SGD 600 in Singapore actually due to the limited release. No doubt as well, this same guitar went through with me, through thick and thin, playing several pieces that I might not even be aware of, and also the guitar that I bought that motivated me to impress the girl waiting for me back home. 

Now that I looked upon this guitar, I was reminded about the memory I had with this guitar and the girl, and with short remark of sarcasm she noted her discontent on musician and especially guitar players. A stab in the heart, but due to my devotion for her, I decide that perhaps she meant little. Nevertheless, the damage done during that time - and bringing back to reality - felt as if the wound was still fresh - even though it has been half a year since she mentioned that.

I took up the guitar, ignoring the sarcastic remark, and play the favorite tune I would cling always to... "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" by the poor George Harrison - the man inspired through his dark days ever since Eric Clapton's "Layla". And strangely, a humble dose of salty water flowed through the left iris of my face, and streamed down to the parched lips. 

My life's a joke, perhaps.

--------------

~ {les coullisses} ~

--------------

The starkly dark view across the alley across the streets is enough to engulfed any patrons with eerie horror towards their safety as any would necessary take this chemin etroit vers le chalet. The terrible wind gulf blew hard on any poor soul's face, enough to leave the bare skin a few lines as reminder of not messing with the nature. Despite this however, even mother nature couldn't revoke the determination of this young gentleman wearing his almost worn-out coffee-brown trenchcoat.

He remembered the street well. The narrow path towards safety, towards the cottage with someone awaiting him - a nice coach alongside the fire chimney. Une telle chaleur! Mon chalet desire! My desired cottage, the chimney one, as he trodded along.

The journey has definitely worn him out. With much enthusiasm, he asked his parents for the opportunity to go out and see the world. He realized that in order to gain as much to recognize the beauty of living, he wants to savor all that is to the world outside. Greatly discouraged, his parents asked him to reconsider, because of the destiny that awaits him. He read stories on city triumphs, the many success behind those who sought after greater wealth and health. After all is these the essence of living in this world? Apparently his parents do not fully agree.

He couldn't see why initially - of course these books that I read must be true, no? - but 7 years of journey of discovering led him to believe the cote faux behind the magnificent stories of prosperity. He thought that with more money, he could get more for himself the satisfaction in life. The discovery of increasing wealth led him to instill fear among his colleagues and friends, sensing their every day friendliness as a means to acquire part of his wealth whenever possible. Initially he thought he was just being paranoid, until a day comes when he had all he wants, and realized that he cannot enjoy them all - all alone.

And then there's another aspect - the love. He thought he could find the love of his life when he acquired what he wants. And boy did he - an extremely beautiful looking 22-year-old lady who has great confidence in bringing out the best of herself. With much enthusiasm, they both sought each other. And the love - the gushing thoughts of romanticsm, led both to believe both to belong to each other forever. And so, affirming the newfound devotion, both decide for that single night, a night to remember. The initial love made, and admiring both naked bodies with so much convoitise, and through that fateful night - succomber a l'amour. That night led to many nights, and both are deeply in love every night they are in the bed.

4 months, and the amour has dissipated like vapor in the wind. The last night, he remembered, she has just merely allowed the fornication without much passion. After the night, both slept on separate beds, recoiling at the first sight after all that passionate moments. In the end, she disallowed him d'entree and left him outside - waiting for a way to get in for the next 4 months.

He thought about the love that was attended, and why in that moment all has lost. It took a weird cold April rainy day to strike him in his head. While shaving his deary face, he saw more than a wretched face with sunken eyes. He looked deeper and realized the person who used to fight for survival and fight to live - has now resorted to live each day as it is - submitted to melancholy and nonchalance. There's nothing else to believe in anymore.

Almost immediately after that, he decided to pack his stuff and decide that he needs to find a way back. Screw the girl. Screw the riches. Screw my residence here. I am coming home. Perhaps... someone can still remember me.

Perhaps... but would it be?

--------------

~ {les reveil} ~

--------------

The next morning, whenever there's emotions hung over the night before, I would spend some time thinking about things randomly. I would wish that life would be fairer, and that at least I have someone who I can trust with - but to no avail has this ever happened. I always evaluated and look around for possible solution in life but none ever worked. There's a period of time when I started smoking back because I would like to forget about the pain. The pain about life is too much to bear, and that I want to at least have some anaethesia to put off the panging effect. Most of the time, accompanied with vodka, I felt bad and often with little willpower left, I reached home late and take a bath and sleep. The heavy sleep often helped, but the next day I would still be reminded about the smell on my breath. People always noted that "Katsute kitsuen-sha wa tsuneni kitsuen-sha desu" (かつて喫煙者は喫煙者です). Once a smoker always a smoker. And it generally applied to all.

I remembered since young my tendency for intimacy. I have repeated too many times about this story and I do not think it deserved additional repetition, but I do find it sad to see that till this day, I have yet to resolve the guilt within me on the pain and the hurt that came across each time I see myself being a failure more than another story of urban independent successful gentleman. I have punkish hair cut, poor choice of literary representation, weird mix of fashion alchemy, and above all a soft spot for genjitsu no dorama (現実のドラマ). I wouldn't say that I am a hard guy to reach, nor am I a guy that is unusually unique, but I do know that I am not easy to get along unless a common thread of interest falls between. More often I would just be the supporting actor in a story described, or perhaps a person mentioned not more than 3~4 times when something is being brought up in a group chat.

Perhaps because of my tendency towards individualistic endeavors caused me to want to be introverted. There are only a handful of people who I want to be close to, and whenever there are people who are close with me on that level, it is easier for me to talk almost about anything to him/her. Unfortunately, most of the time I was the one who initiates the call just to chat, watch movie, hang around, play music - and sadly that perhaps is all that is left for me.

I see myself, gradually though, as someone slightly difficult to get along with at times, and now that things are getting from bad till worse, I do not know how to cope with the pain. I want to walk back towards where I belong, to people who I am close with. But whenever I heard of admonition from them to tell me to dress like them, cut hair like them, maintain a good diet like them, love things like them - I felt betrayed at times. I can love you for who you are, and I will not admonish you to become like me. In fact, I do not wish you to be likewise - but to insist that I should become like you in order that I can grow close to you - it cannot happen immediately. Perhaps never.

This reveal a lot about your expression of love, no? In order that I am better loved, you need me to emulate everything that you do. That may be right, if the intention is to follow the heart of the matter. But what if it's not?

--------------

~ {les conclusion} ~

--------------

I am always fascinated with Romans 8, because on a personal level that chapter always glued me back to reality of my reason in believing Him in a very unbelievable world. I see people measuring power based on how they often perceive themselves to be - wealth, health, prosperity, reputation, ownership, etc. But at the end of the day, especially towards each night, I would ponder upon the moon across, and think about Romans 8 to remind me of why I insist of living in an insane world.

Eugene Peterson brings it across well in his interpretation, and I especially like the following verses:

Romans 8:5 - 8 reads as below:

^5-8Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them—living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God. Anyone completely absorbed in self ignores God, ends up thinking more about self than God. That person ignores who God is and what he is doing. And God isn't pleased at being ignored.

Perhaps we should all rethink how we think about ourselves. Notre inevitablement. Our inevitably state of fragility.

[Day 1]: Tripped by my 'mis-expectation'

I walked around the 3 big shops around Pram Nam 9 at Bangkok Central, and found out something incredible.

I used to think of Bangkok as just market streets, flea markets with cheap and pirated goods.

Not this one. And I watch through the scenery thinking that I am coming to another 'developed' countries. Serious.

First Picture that I take when I am walking at the roundabout alley overlooking the 5 stories of IT City. Unfortunately, the level 1 till 3 are all covered as 'one area', so for this, it is actually 4-5 only. Which is quite normal nowadays for builders to do (though I don't understand the reason behind)

My trip down at IT City at Pram Nam 9. Considerably large (not as large as Sim Lim Square in Singapore, but relatively large enough to serve the entire Bangkok area. The things here are also quite new, and compatible with Singapore.

 

The front entrance of IT City main shop house. The outskirts are all small shop houses selling random IT equipments.

 

One of the shopping mall, Esplanade (tribute to Temasek Holdings for building the MRT stations for Bangkok (in which Thai people call the service 'SUBWAY') actually has a iStudio for users who bought Mac or any Apple related to go for a free course on making music using Garageband, and having all the equipment for you to try. I don't recall seeing one in Singapore, in which caused me to envy. 

[short note]: business trip to Bangkok

Well, I now realized why I couldn't get into the blogging sphere... My home router blocked cookies that is faulty, or wrong in html syntax. Which means that for looping syntax, my router will automatically block it and say that this is faulty.

Never mind about the details.

Anyway, here I am in Changi Airport again, for another trip up north to Bangkok this time, for training. Finally, a business trip that is not supposed to be stressful.

Hopefully this will be okay for me.

[memoir - day]: difficulties in appreciating the hurt

-----------------[Prologue: Identifying the victim]-----------------

The hardest part about letting go of the hurt, I felt, is to let the hurt subdue in so deep, that you have to admit, there's no way out. Many of whom that I know of who went through that stage either by applying some sort of anesthesia (smoking, drugs, beer, sex, etc) or actually identify the hurt as part of the person. In this category there are people who chose the darker path - acknowledging and epitomizing the hurt as an identity to be feared; or in other mean actually found something higher than themselves to associate the pain, and thus 'forgiving the hurt'.

In many sense, it is difficult - to be honest - to live through the pain, let alone acknowledging it. Many people felt the need to get away, precisely because every moment of visitation will inject certain amount of embarrassing and awkward expression - and in worse cases actually instill regrets and deep sadness. Some of those who through life in rather smooth sailing journey may not be able to appreciate the deep hurt the victim felt. Sometimes, their presence can be of a nuisance to the victim rather than being an uplifting embodiment.

-----------------[Memoir 1: Tribute to the 'him']-----------------

Whenever I hear radio broadcast on advertising competition in writing tributes to mother and father on Mother's or Father's Day, there's always a sense of happy tribute inculcated within the theme of the ad. I hear of recommendation that 'my Papa sticks with me, even when I was dumped by the lousy boyfriend', and 'my Mama cooked my favorite Beef Lasagna whenever she could tell that I have a bad day at school'. These are pretty much nice tributes - but I often thought about the depth of those tributes.

Nonetheless, I won't incur that I will have better, deeper point of view should I ever write one. Nevertheless, should I be given the opportunity to write, I would rather write something realistic and pragmatic. Something that actually connects with several thousands of orphans, several hundred thousands of children, several million parents who find parenting a task so difficult to do.

Honestly, my parents have not been good examples to us since young. Although my mom attempted to control our curfews and making sure we do the right thing in the public school, themes of manipulation, lying and being individualistic have always been the value that is inculcated. "The world is a rough place. Don't ever think about surviving outside with them. Never trust your friends, and always appear you are lazy in front of them, while study like mad at home. Make sure you don't hang around with them."

As a result, for the best part of my teenage years, I grew resentment towards my parents who I thought to be conniving and extremely manipulative. One important moment that made me recall the instigation of my hatred was when I was wrongly accused for surfing porn when my dad was actually the one finding it. My dad proudly condemned me in front of the family at the age of 11, and since then I always practiced apathy whenever there are pleadings from parents to want me to change. I always thought: "Well, if you really want me to change, why not you change? Stop liking porn and start respecting the woman. Stop wanting to be manipulative, and start being more forgiving towards people."

I had my chance of escaping the 'tyranny' when I studied hard enough to be allowed an entrance to one of the top universities in Asia region. My parents, being taking pride in good education, encouraged me to go (with a lot of reservation on my attitude, my money handling and several other means behind me). It was in this period of time, that I suddenly see a lot of things in the world in a different way. In addition, my dad's being diagnosed with manic depression caused the family to, for the first time in our lives, reflect upon the fragility of our human lives on earth.

-----------------[Memoir 2: The Struggle Within]-----------------

I remembered waking in the middle of the night, one of those days when I was staying alone in my hostel, the terrible moment of loneliness. I see my life as mere jokes, being a laughing stock with people around, especially reminiscence of my high school classmates. Back in those days, manipulation was the theme in order to get on top. Though I was from a rural background, the community motivation for common good was never prevalent. So, whenever I had those moments especially during the night, where I suddenly remembered the dark times while in high school, I couldn't sleep well. I would always pored myself over the net, surfing bad websites to put antiseptic effect upon the hurt.

I never wanted to acknowledge the hurt I felt. I always felt very retracted by the pain, because every time when I visit those moments, it was filled with hurt and pain. I sometimes find it inexpressible to describe the pain in the heart but I always found myself wanting to end the life. I remembered myself staying at the 8th floor of my hostel, with the corner most facing the balcony. It was exceptionally nice view and I always found myself wanting to feel how it was like jumping down and being a pulp in the middle of the road.

I am still a coward nonetheless, because I have a certain fear for height. I never recall why, but I remembered looking down and feeling quite scared. I loved the scenery across me, but not the view downward. And so, I could only just stand behind the balcony, thinking about what I should be thinking. And nothing came to me.

At that period, my cell group leader in my hostel actually recommended me to go through counselling session. To be honest, during that time I never considered myself to be a a candidate for healing. But my cell group leader insists upon healing and wanted the best for me.

During that period, I saw the demon in me a lot. I had to face head on with the hurt I felt with my parents without actually trying to run away from it. My counselor actually asked several difficult questions in order to address difficult issues that has evaded me for the most part of my teenage-hood. And perhaps the struggles still remain today, though I have changed to another counselor and on a less frequent basis. The pain is still there, the hurt is still there, and the life is still there.

-----------------[Memoir 3: One Faithful Night]-----------------

I remembered one night, very vividly, where I actually see myself being melancholy in life. I have good life, good parents, good child, good wife. I live until 60s and due to illness I passed away. Perhaps because of the smoking habit, I had a shorter life compared to my ancestors. In that vision, I saw someone talking to me.

Someone that is not common. An American, maybe. Or a European. I don't know. But he's a Caucasian.

He asked: "What have you been doing in your life?"

I couldn't answer. Strange, I thought. I have been contributing to my parents, my family, my kid, and my church. Why can't I say anything now?

Then he asked another question: "What have you been doing with the gift that He gave you?"

I remembered breaking down. Very strangely that thought really provoked utter regret in life. I didn't die a terrible death, and I didn't recall being condemned from entering into Heaven, but the thought of not doing anything for Him really provoked a sense of regret.

I remembered several years later, looking back at this single night - and found out how much I have changed after that night. My mindset has changed, my life has changed, my attitude towards people has changed. But one thing remained the same: I am still asking the same question, "What am I doing with the gift given to me?"

On that night when this vision was revealed to me, a song came in my head. It was not a song I heard before, neither was it a song written before. It was a new song, and while it was fresh in my mind, I wrote the song out, melody first - lyrics came weeks later. But theme about desolation was there, and I eventually subscribed to the idea that I realized now how miserable I have become. Epiphany of Misery came to me as an evocative title, and since then I have always played the tune to remind myself what's important in life.

On that faithful night too, I found out the gift in me in playing music. I never imagined I could play 'music' in ways I always thought can only be achieved by a rare few good musicians, but I found out that night that God actually granted a gift in musicianship in me, long before I prayed to God, "Give me the strength to play music for You."

-----------------[Memoir 4: Perspective Change]-----------------

Years after that faithful night, several thoughts have passed by. Some ideologies have been revised, and replaced by more graceful ones. I, in part, also realized something significant about human relationship and fragility of life.

I was being exposed to a lot more different stories of human vulnerability and their struggles to survive. Secular stories in 'Rachel Getting Married', 'Beyond Borders', 'Yakuza Moon', 'Once Was Lost' (First 2 being movies, second 2 being books) exposed to me the human within and their struggle to live the notion 'Be thyself' despite their addiction towards whichever ease their pain. Every moment in the stories draw me close to tears. I don't think it is just the empathy. I believe there's also a connection to the story protagonist (or antagonist, depending on how you look at it). And strangely, those worldview started to take shape in how I see life.

The breaking point to which I found myself admitting my failure in living was when I read Henri Nouwen's book, "The Inner Voice of Love". For once, I realized the significance of living for Christ in the midst of the pain, and I found the beauty of embracing the hurt. In the past, I have never associated the pain with the burden on the cross of Christ. Step by step, reading much Christian readings provoked me to think that Christ was with me, when I was being manipulated, verbally abused, wrongly accused, and bullied by people who may or may not intentionally want to hurt me. The feeling that God was there was initially voyeuristic and uncomfortable, until "The Return of the Prodigal Son" profoundly challenged my thought to see Christ, with his nail-pierced palms, touched me. The significance of the wound was to remind me that He, too was hurt.

That significance changed my life. And in simple meditation in life, I started to learn to hear and listen to His point of view about the things in life. Reflecting upon the path to Gethsemane, so many of the human's hurt was on His burden, and He could have asked His angels to bear them instead. Imagine the hurt of billions of people with so different predicaments and tragedies, in addition to human sinfulness in itself - being the burden of Christ. And at that point of time, just like John Wesley's arrival at Aldersgate, my heart was strangely warmed and comforted.

For the first time in my life: I see God. Not His face, not His presence - but I see God in everyone of us. We bear the image of Christ.

-----------------[Memoir 5: Through Music The Redemption Begins]-----------------

When I was on my first year in my university life, I was greatly appalled by my failure in adapting to the way things are in Singapore. The way they study, how fast paced they are, and how they play their lives like there's no tomorrow. I was greatly behind, and I felt stupid living in Singapore by myself. I never thought about going back in my hometown in Malaysia at that time though, and the only alternative that I thought of was to escape and die. That period was the entrance towards my depression which lasted for some years.

Towards the end of my first year university though, I met a bunch of people who played music and found out that I could play a little guitar. They exposed me to playing different kind of music, and letting me listen to metal songs as an exposure to wide genre of music. I remembered initially feeling adversely negated by those tunes, but the lyrics hooked me in. Soon, songs like "Master of Puppets", "One", and "Fade to Black" became my favorite songs.

At that time, I started practicing music, and playing so actively that I never stopped to evaluate how far I have been in my music path. But one single anime stopped me and inspired me to think about playing music as a medium of recovery.

"BECK: The Mongolian Chop Squad" - the anime that captivated several young kids in Japan during 2004 because of the theme of 'loser boy being the hero' captivated my heart. For the first time, I was so inspired by playing music madly that I would spend 7~8 hours playing music, even with blisters and occasionally bruises on the fingers in order to master a few classic songs. And since then I have to admit, the love of music has been strong. People would normally associate me with music after that event.

Perhaps it was at this moment when an unexpected mode of healing began in me.

Listening to songs in the era when my father was born allowed me strike in a very randomly weird conversation with my dad. Apparently, my dad knows Rolling Stone, Led Zeppelin, Queen and Motor Head. However, because of the his country feel inclination, he never listened far beyond those notorious hit songs. We, however, loved Johnny Cash, and in his repertoire I finally was able to talk to my dad on a normal, more friendly level. It was also at this time that my dad is recovering from his depression, and I was learning to accommodate to some of his struggles, especially when coming to Singapore. He has difficulties whenever in a huge crowd, and he would faint sometimes because of the people.

Music has taught me the matters of the heart, and I saw so much of the matters of the heart from music when I talked to many people. So it was never surprising that I would like to expand out the idea to writing songs and be an inspiration. Unfortunately, as of now, this has yet to take off, but I do believe one day. Even if that day may never come on earth.

-----------------[Memoir 6: The Tribute, Revisited]-----------------

On a recent Chinese New Year gathering, my parents, me and my sister went to my parents hometown, to meet up with relatives who we can only commit once a year. Even so, I do believe my parents actually dislike meeting with my father's relatives. It is quite true that most of my father's relatives are pretty superficial and unsympathetic. They are very much well to do and keep boasting about overseas trips, while my family still stick themselves in Malaysia without leaving home.

However, despite their well being, none wants to claim ownership in dealing with one properties that was left behind by their grandparents - a piece of land in Malacca. They kept ignoring and tell my dad to handle it. This has gone on for several years, and every time when there's such a meeting, my uncles (one being a Protestant, one being an atheist) and my aunt (she being a Catholic) were very condemning to my dad - saying that "ugly things like this should not be talked about. Just leave it alone. The state will somehow address the land".

My dad, however, decides that enough is enough. He started to complain, and started to condemn them for being apathetic and narcissistic about the land. He addressed how potentially good that land was, and actually raised the parable of the 'stewardship in talent' to the rest. Actually he interpreted wrongly the parable, but none seemed to care. One of the children of my aunt actually asked my dad why the sudden burst of emotion.

In very weird followings, my dad revealed to the entire family, with my uncles and my aunt left embarrassed, his upbringing as a kid till his teenage-hood, and how much he was being neglected and tended to his own. In a burst of emotions, he mentioned the lack of gratitude in the siblings, and how much they manipulated him since young, even till now.

My cousin was very embarrassed when she heard that, but she did suggest how sad our lives are. And in very awkward followings, my relatives became to realize how much me and my sister understood what happened in life, and how much ignorant they are towards us. The gathering left some of my relatives in a difficult situation. But well, there's a next year, and things will be the same again every year, I suppose.

But this single event gave me immense encouragement and started, for the first time in my life, my love for my dad. It wasn't in his so-called heroic acts of fatherhood when I was a boy that actually drew me to admire him. It wasn't his authoritarian characteristics that drew me to want to emulate him. But it was his strength in admitting and acknowledging his troubled childhood that caused me to respect him. Stories like this are not easy to hear, let alone to tell. And for the first time in my life, in my heart I cried for comfort, knowing that my dad has finally acknowledged his weakness. It is in weakness that we found strength in living through Christ, and that moment caused me to fall on my knees (in my mind) how mercy can flow through.

I am embarrassed to know that my uncle and my aunt didn't embody the living of Christlike-ness. My uncle who shared the same faith as mine, had a mistress and right now we are unsure how is his moral standing in church. My aunt always had a habit of putting up a nice front to everyone, including us, making sure her Catholic faith is pure. Sadly, when event like how my dad burst out his emotion that day came, she tried to hide it and say that my dad is sprouting nonsense. Perhaps she is more of a Pharisee.

But I am also ashamed that I too am hypocrite, and still struggling to live Christlike-ness. As of today, I still have urges to smoke, to fornicate, to drink till drunk, to curse and to be a jerk. And there are times which I knew that I see life as unbearable, and I still tried to live as God reign. But now, whenever I remembered that event when my dad burst out his emotion, I realized that he is shouting out loud for God's help, whether he knew it or not. And that comforts my heart, realizing that God listened, even though I sprouted 'nonsense'.

So, Dad... it has been hard taking care of me. I don't know if you ever will see this blog, but if there comes a time when you do, Dad, I want to let you know... I am sorry for being a bad boy. I hurt you and Mom. But I thank you for forgiving me, and still being my parents despite me being a jerk. And Dad... I have admired you ever since that day, and though I still find it difficult to talk to you on many occasions, you are still my Dad.

-----------------[Epilogue: Writing Down My Concern]-----------------

I liked to write random thoughts in short chapters, because I found that the way I think are not necessary synchronized and organized. Of course, it takes a lot of spiritual discipline to be able to pen down reflection without getting distracted. But there are occasions where you can sit down and write random thoughts, just to remind ourselves that we sometimes need to see things (whether they are clear or not). It is in such moments, that we found comfort in knowing that there's still something in life that we hold on to. For me, to live is in Christ, and I still try to learn that each day, with little footsteps.

I have been thinking about going to another church, because of the difficulties for the cell group to gel together, and the difficulties I have mingling around with the young adults in my church. I actually would prefer being with the much older adults there, but I have bad moments with them, and I found it difficult to reconcile (I skipped a few choral training, and I found it embarrassing to meet up with them every time). But with all due honesty, I loved my church, because they have brought me up to where I am today. I love music and sound engineering thanks to them, and I think I will not transit immediately to another church. I will give myself a year or two to have better transition.

While I still think about the transition, I also do think about my vocation. I remembered that night when 'Epiphany of Misery' came out, the image of famine struck my heart. And when I read some articles about countries facing famine, Sudan came into my head. Since then I always had occasion prayer, very short though, that God will provide a way to the people suffering there.

I will not talk much about what I know about Sudan, but I do know that the condition there was not supposed to be that bad. Human corruption, religious fanaticism, and various underdevelopment of medical aids there caused terrible plight in Sudan. Nonetheless, I pray that in little steps God will provide. To be honest, I am scared to go there. Very scared. But I pray that one day, I may have the strength to be called there, and take up the challenge. Pray that the day will not be too late.

[memoir - day]: forgiving the hurt

-----------------[Prologue: Identifying the victim]-----------------

The hardest part about letting go of the hurt, I felt, is to let the hurt subdue in so deep, that you have to admit, there's no way out. Many of whom that I know of who went through that stage either by applying some sort of anesthesia (smoking, drugs, beer, sex, etc) or actually identify the hurt as part of the person. In this category there are people who chose the darker path - acknowledging and epitomizing the hurt as an identity to be feared; or in other mean actually found something higher than themselves to associate the pain, and thus 'forgiving the hurt'.

In many sense, it is difficult - to be honest - to live through the pain, let alone acknowledging it. Many people felt the need to get away, precisely because every moment of visitation will inject certain amount of embarrassing and awkward expression - and in worse cases actually instill regrets and deep sadness. Some of those who through life in rather smooth sailing journey may not be able to appreciate the deep hurt the victim felt. Sometimes, their presence can be of a nuisance to the victim rather than being an uplifting embodiment. 

-----------------[Memoir 1: Tribute to the 'him']-----------------

Whenever I hear radio broadcast on advertising competition in writing tributes to mother and father on Mother's or Father's Day, there's always a sense of happy tribute inculcated within the theme of the ad. I hear of recommendation that 'my Papa sticks with me, even when I was dumped by the lousy boyfriend', and 'my Mama cooked my favorite Beef Lasagna whenever she could tell that I have a bad day at school'. These are pretty much nice tributes - but I often thought about the depth of those tributes.

Nonetheless, I won't incur that I will have better, deeper point of view should I ever write one. Nevertheless, should I be given the opportunity to write, I would rather write something realistic and pragmatic. Something that actually connects with several thousands of orphans, several hundred thousands of children, several million parents who find parenting a task so difficult to do.

Honestly, my parents have not been good examples to us since young. Although my mom attempted to control our curfews and making sure we do the right thing in the public school, themes of manipulation, lying and being individualistic have always been the value that is inculcated. "The world is a rough place. Don't ever think about surviving outside with them. Never trust your friends, and always appear you are lazy in front of them, while study like mad at home. Make sure you don't hang around with them."

As a result, for the best part of my teenage years, I grew resentment towards my parents who I thought to be conniving and extremely manipulative. One important moment that made me recall the instigation of my hatred was when I was wrongly accused for surfing porn when my dad was actually the one finding it. My dad proudly condemned me in front of the family at the age of 11, and since then I always practiced apathy whenever there are pleadings from parents to want me to change. I always thought: "Well, if you really want me to change, why not you change? Stop liking porn and start respecting the woman. Stop wanting to be manipulative, and start being more forgiving towards people."

I had my chance of escaping the 'tyranny' when I studied hard enough to be allowed an entrance to one of the top universities in Asia region. My parents, being taking pride in good education, encouraged me to go (with a lot of reservation on my attitude, my money handling and several other means behind me). It was in this period of time, that I suddenly see a lot of things in the world in a different way. In addition, my dad's being diagnosed with manic depression caused the family to, for the first time in our lives, reflect upon the fragility of our human lives on earth.

-----------------[Memoir 2: The Struggle Within]----------------- 

I remembered waking in the middle of the night, one of those days when I was staying alone in my hostel, the terrible moment of loneliness. I see my life as mere jokes, being a laughing stock with people around, especially reminiscence of my high school classmates. Back in those days, manipulation was the theme in order to get on top. Though I was from a rural background, the community motivation for common good was never prevalent. So, whenever I had those moments especially during the night, where I suddenly remembered the dark times while in high school, I couldn't sleep well. I would always pored myself over the net, surfing bad websites to put antiseptic effect upon the hurt. 

I never wanted to acknowledge the hurt I felt. I always felt very retracted by the pain, because every time when I visit those moments, it was filled with hurt and pain. I sometimes find it inexpressible to describe the pain in the heart but I always found myself wanting to end the life. I remembered myself staying at the 8th floor of my hostel, with the corner most facing the balcony. It was exceptionally nice view and I always found myself wanting to feel how it was like jumping down and being a pulp in the middle of the road. 

I am still a coward nonetheless, because I have a certain fear for height. I never recall why, but I remembered looking down and feeling quite scared. I loved the scenery across me, but not the view downward. And so, I could only just stand behind the balcony, thinking about what I should be thinking. And nothing came to me. 

At that period, my cell group leader in my hostel actually recommended me to go through counselling session. To be honest, during that time I never considered myself to be a a candidate for healing. But my cell group leader insists upon healing and wanted the best for me. 

During that period, I saw the demon in me a lot. I had to face head on with the hurt I felt with my parents without actually trying to run away from it. My counselor actually asked several difficult questions in order to address difficult issues that has evaded me for the most part of my teenage-hood. And perhaps the struggles still remain today, though I have changed to another counselor and on a less frequent basis. The pain is still there, the hurt is still there, and the life is still there.

-----------------[Memoir 3: One Faithful Night]-----------------

I remembered one night, very vividly, where I actually see myself being melancholy in life. I have good life, good parents, good child, good wife. I live until 60s and due to illness I passed away. Perhaps because of the smoking habit, I had a shorter life compared to my ancestors. In that vision, I saw someone talking to me.

Someone that is not common. An American, maybe. Or a European. I don't know. But he's a Caucasian.

He asked: "What have you been doing in your life?"

I couldn't answer. Strange, I thought. I have been contributing to my parents, my family, my kid, and my church. Why can't I say anything now?

Then he asked another question: "What have you been doing with the gift that He gave you?"

I remembered breaking down. Very strangely that thought really provoked utter regret in life. I didn't die a terrible death, and I didn't recall being condemned from entering into Heaven, but the thought of not doing anything for Him really provoked a sense of regret. 

I remembered several years later, looking back at this single night - and found out how much I have changed after that night. My mindset has changed, my life has changed, my attitude towards people has changed. But one thing remained the same: I am still asking the same question, "What am I doing with the gift given to me?"

On that night when this vision was revealed to me, a song came in my head. It was not a song I heard before, neither was it a song written before. It was a new song, and while it was fresh in my mind, I wrote the song out, melody first - lyrics came weeks later. But theme about desolation was there, and I eventually subscribed to the idea that I realized now how miserable I have become. Epiphany of Misery came to me as an evocative title, and since then I have always played the tune to remind myself what's important in life. 

On that faithful night too, I found out the gift in me in playing music. I never imagined I could play 'music' in ways I always thought can only be achieved by a rare few good musicians, but I found out that night that God actually granted a gift in musicianship in me, long before I prayed to God, "Give me the strength to play music for You."

-----------------[Memoir 4: Perspective Change]-----------------

Years after that faithful night, several thoughts have passed by. Some ideologies have been revised, and replaced by more graceful ones. I, in part, also realized something significant about human relationship and fragility of life. 

I was being exposed to a lot more different stories of human vulnerability and their struggles to survive. Secular stories in 'Rachel Getting Married', 'Beyond Borders', 'Yakuza Moon', 'Once Was Lost' (First 2 being movies, second 2 being books) exposed to me the human within and their struggle to live the notion 'Be thyself' despite their addiction towards whichever ease their pain. Every moment in the stories draw me close to tears. I don't think it is just the empathy. I believe there's also a connection to the story protagonist (or antagonist, depending on how you look at it). And strangely, those worldview started to take shape in how I see life.

The breaking point to which I found myself admitting my failure in living was when I read Henri Nouwen's book, "The Inner Voice of Love". For once, I realized the significance of living for Christ in the midst of the pain, and I found the beauty of embracing the hurt. In the past, I have never associated the pain with the burden on the cross of Christ. Step by step, reading much Christian readings provoked me to think that Christ was with me, when I was being manipulated, verbally abused, wrongly accused, and bullied by people who may or may not intentionally want to hurt me. The feeling that God was there was initially voyeuristic and uncomfortable, until "The Return of the Prodigal Son" profoundly challenged my thought to see Christ, with his nail-pierced palms, touched me. The significance of the wound was to remind me that He, too was hurt.

That significance changed my life. And in simple meditation in life, I started to learn to hear and listen to His point of view about the things in life. Reflecting upon the path to Gethsemane, so many of the human's hurt was on His burden, and He could have asked His angels to bear them instead. Imagine the hurt of billions of people with so different predicaments and tragedies, in addition to human sinfulness in itself - being the burden of Christ. And at that point of time, just like John Wesley's arrival at Aldersgate, my heart was strangely warmed and comforted.

For the first time in my life: I see God. Not His face, not His presence - but I see God in everyone of us. We bear the image of Christ.

-----------------[Memoir 5: Through Music The Redemption Begins]-----------------

When I was on my first year in my university life, I was greatly appalled by my failure in adapting to the way things are in Singapore. The way they study, how fast paced they are, and how they play their lives like there's no tomorrow. I was greatly behind, and I felt stupid living in Singapore by myself. I never thought about going back in my hometown in Malaysia at that time though, and the only alternative that I thought of was to escape and die. That period was the entrance towards my depression which lasted for some years.

Towards the end of my first year university though, I met a bunch of people who played music and found out that I could play a little guitar. They exposed me to playing different kind of music, and letting me listen to metal songs as an exposure to wide genre of music. I remembered initially feeling adversely negated by those tunes, but the lyrics hooked me in. Soon, songs like "Master of Puppets", "One", and "Fade to Black" became my favorite songs.

At that time, I started practicing music, and playing so actively that I never stopped to evaluate how far I have been in my music path. But one single anime stopped me and inspired me to think about playing music as a medium of recovery. 

"BECK: The Mongolian Chop Squad" - the anime that captivated several young kids in Japan during 2004 because of the theme of 'loser boy being the hero' captivated my heart. For the first time, I was so inspired by playing music madly that I would spend 7~8 hours playing music, even with blisters and occasionally bruises on the fingers in order to master a few classic songs. And since then I have to admit, the love of music has been strong. People would normally associate me with music after that event.

Perhaps it was at this moment when an unexpected mode of healing began in me. 

Listening to songs in the era when my father was born allowed me strike in a very randomly weird conversation with my dad. Apparently, my dad knows Rolling Stone, Led Zeppelin, Queen and Motor Head. However, because of the his country feel inclination, he never listened far beyond those notorious hit songs. We, however, loved Johnny Cash, and in his repertoire I finally was able to talk to my dad on a normal, more friendly level. It was also at this time that my dad is recovering from his depression, and I was learning to accommodate to some of his struggles, especially when coming to Singapore. He has difficulties whenever in a huge crowd, and he would faint sometimes because of the people. 

Music has taught me the matters of the heart, and I saw so much of the matters of the heart from music when I talked to many people. So it was never surprising that I would like to expand out the idea to writing songs and be an inspiration. Unfortunately, as of now, this has yet to take off, but I do believe one day. Even if that day may never come on earth.

-----------------[Memoir 6: The Tribute, Revisited]-----------------

On a recent Chinese New Year gathering, my parents, me and my sister went to my parents hometown, to meet up with relatives who we can only commit once a year. Even so, I do believe my parents actually dislike meeting with my father's relatives. It is quite true that most of my father's relatives are pretty superficial and unsympathetic. They are very much well to do and keep boasting about overseas trips, while my family still stick themselves in Malaysia without leaving home. 

However, despite their well being, none wants to claim ownership in dealing with one properties that was left behind by their grandparents - a piece of land in Malacca. They kept ignoring and tell my dad to handle it. This has gone on for several years, and every time when there's such a meeting, my uncles (one being a Protestant, one being an atheist) and my aunt (she being a Catholic) were very condemning to my dad - saying that "ugly things like this should not be talked about. Just leave it alone. The state will somehow address the land".

My dad, however, decides that enough is enough. He started to complain, and started to condemn them for being apathetic and narcissistic about the land. He addressed how potentially good that land was, and actually raised the parable of the 'stewardship in talent' to the rest. Actually he interpreted wrongly the parable, but none seemed to care. One of the children of my aunt actually asked my dad why the sudden burst of emotion. 

In very weird followings, my dad revealed to the entire family, with my uncles and my aunt left embarrassed, his upbringing as a kid till his teenage-hood, and how much he was being neglected and tended to his own. In a burst of emotions, he mentioned the lack of gratitude in the siblings, and how much they manipulated him since young, even till now.

My cousin was very embarrassed when she heard that, but she did suggest how sad our lives are. And in very awkward followings, my relatives became to realize how much me and my sister understood what happened in life, and how much ignorant they are towards us. The gathering left some of my relatives in a difficult situation. But well, there's a next year, and things will be the same again every year, I suppose.

But this single event gave me immense encouragement and started, for the first time in my life, my love for my dad. It wasn't in his so-called heroic acts of fatherhood when I was a boy that actually drew me to admire him. It wasn't his authoritarian characteristics that drew me to want to emulate him. But it was his strength in admitting and acknowledging his troubled childhood that caused me to respect him. Stories like this are not easy to hear, let alone to tell. And for the first time in my life, in my heart I cried for comfort, knowing that my dad has finally acknowledged his weakness. It is in weakness that we found strength in living through Christ, and that moment caused me to fall on my knees (in my mind) how mercy can flow through.

I am embarrassed to know that my uncle and my aunt didn't embody the living of Christlike-ness. My uncle who shared the same faith as mine, had a mistress and right now we are unsure how is his moral standing in church. My aunt always had a habit of putting up a nice front to everyone, including us, making sure her Catholic faith is pure. Sadly, when event like how my dad burst out his emotion that day came, she tried to hide it and say that my dad is sprouting nonsense. Perhaps she is more of a Pharisee.

But I am also ashamed that I too am hypocrite, and still struggling to live Christlike-ness. As of today, I still have urges to smoke, to fornicate, to drink till drunk, to curse and to be a jerk. And there are times which I knew that I see life as unbearable, and I still tried to live as God reign. But now, whenever I remembered that event when my dad burst out his emotion, I realized that he is shouting out loud for God's help, whether he knew it or not. And that comforts my heart, realizing that God listened, even though I sprouted 'nonsense'. 

So, Dad... it has been hard taking care of me. I don't know if you ever will see this blog, but if there comes a time when you do, Dad, I want to let you know... I am sorry for being a bad boy. I hurt you and Mom. But I thank you for forgiving me, and still being my parents despite me being a jerk. And Dad... I have admired you ever since that day, and though I still find it difficult to talk to you on many occasions, you are still my Dad. 

-----------------[Epilogue: Writing Down My Concern]-----------------

I liked to write random thoughts in short chapters, because I found that the way I think are not necessary synchronized and organized. Of course, it takes a lot of spiritual discipline to be able to pen down reflection without getting distracted. But there are occasions where you can sit down and write random thoughts, just to remind ourselves that we sometimes need to see things (whether they are clear or not). It is in such moments, that we found comfort in knowing that there's still something in life that we hold on to. For me, to live is in Christ, and I still try to learn that each day, with little footsteps. 

I have been thinking about going to another church, because of the difficulties for the cell group to gel together, and the difficulties I have mingling around with the young adults in my church. I actually would prefer being with the much older adults there, but I have bad moments with them, and I found it difficult to reconcile (I skipped a few choral training, and I found it embarrassing to meet up with them every time). But with all due honesty, I loved my church, because they have brought me up to where I am today. I love music and sound engineering thanks to them, and I think I will not transit immediately to another church. I will give myself a year or two to have better transition.

While I still think about the transition, I also do think about my vocation. I remembered that night when 'Epiphany of Misery' came out, the image of famine struck my heart. And when I read some articles about countries facing famine, Sudan came into my head. Since then I always had occasion prayer, very short though, that God will provide a way to the people suffering there. 

I will not talk much about what I know about Sudan, but I do know that the condition there was not supposed to be that bad. Human corruption, religious fanaticism, and various underdevelopment of medical aids there caused terrible plight in Sudan. Nonetheless, I pray that in little steps God will provide. To be honest, I am scared to go there. Very scared. But I pray that one day, I may have the strength to be called there, and take up the challenge. Pray that the day will not be too late.

[by the way, I have found great difficulties in accessing 'XANGA' these days. It has been 2-3 weeks since, and I am not sure if I am the only one facing this. Can anyone verify?]