The Conversation

Faint glow reflecting off his glasses.
Caffeine enriched, heart pumping.
Typing away at indiscriminate script.
Old chair swivels, person slumping.

Silence rules over this kingdom.
Day by day turns to night by night.
Interests fading and smiles gone;
Hoping for change but none in sight.

A beep echoes, a sudden noise.
Piques the cortex of stoic boy.
A mere text, oh so late.
Message, be simple: why so coy?

Begging for company, loneliness king,
A duet of words, straight spoken: you free?
A scratch of the head and a contagious yawn;
of all people this time, why ask on me?

The phone is then lifted, a few buttons click.
A number was dialed, a response, no less.
This warranted answer, a must-have reply,
to the question posed, a vocal "Yes."

Reflections on Jiuzhaigou

Some helpful Tibetan lingo:

Response to Za xi de lei (welcome): Za xi de lei xiu

Na chu na ga: I love you

Simo: young lady, pretty lady

Silang: young man, handsome man

Deimo: goodbye

6 word Tibetan prayer: o ma mi bei bi hom

8 word Tibetan prayer: o ma zei mo ye sa lam dei

                My conception of zangzu, or in general Tibetan, culture was definitely much different from what I experienced at Jiuzhaigou. Preconceptions were of a more rowdy, almost Mongol-like pastoralist group, like the Mongol nomads that we attribute to the Huns. I had come into the area with the basic knowledge of Buddhist traditions, values and morals. I already knew much of the information faith-wise, but it was interesting to listen to some of the historical aspects of how certain sects of Buddhism rose to power due to a uniform acceptance starting from the Qing dynasty.

                I was perhaps a little apprehensive when I found out that our tour guide had arranged for us to stay at a zangzu house for dinner. This house is no ordinary zangzu house either, as it had produced 2 houfo, or living buddhas. In other words, this was a house of some of the highest, most respected Buddhist clergy. Being completely foreign to their customs, eating habits, and not to mention language, it was definitely an experience that I will never forget.

                There are many customary actions that are taken before almost every action. Ranging from being welcomed, to before anyone drinks barley wine. When we first arrived at the zangzu house, two strapping Tibetan lads came to us, and hung a yellow hada, a kind of woven scarf, around our necks and welcomed us with the traditional greeting: za xi de lei. Clasping my hands together and bowing slightly, I respond with za xi de lei xiu, which is like accepting/acknowledging their welcome. When we reached the entry way into the house’s main area, we said a traditional 8 word Buddhist prayer, o ma zei mo ye sa lam dei, for peace for the host and for the visits. After the prayer, we headed towards the dining area. In zangzu culture, the women take a subservient role, and as a result are the main servers, and enter the house after all the men have entered the house and have taken their seats at the eating place.

                The eating place is like a true mess hall, as there are many small tables arranged in rows to accommodate as many people as possible, which follows with their communal eating style. There were many various small dishes, ranging from spicy radish, baked potato, to mountain sheep meat and yak meat. The interesting rule was that you could use chopsticks for everything except the meat and rice. For these dishes, you had to use your hands. On a food-related note, the buttered tea is delicious, as is the barley wine. I didn’t think it would be good, but it was a nice pleasant surprise. Barley wine had special connotations associated with it, where customs dictated that if certain rules were broken, the person committing the fault would be expected to down more barley wine. All in all, it was a rowdy dinner experience.

                The place where you sit is also highly defined by your social rank within a family, and in a tribe. Lucky for us, my dad, a family friend, and I, three guys, ended up sitting in the most distinguished seats in the house, which meant we had certain roles to uphold. My dad sat in the eldest brother seat, and was responsible for getting the crowd in uproars. The family friend sat in the second brother seat, and was responsible for dishing out drinking penalties for anyone who wasn’t fully engaged with the festivities. And there was me, in the third brother seat, where my responsibilities will come up soon.

                While we were dining, our hostess continued to introduce various different simos and silangs that came to sing their native highland songs for us. It had a mysterious lull to it, filled with impressive vocal ranges and arias that make even the most distinguished opera singers do a double take. Now comes my responsibilities as third brother; I had to dance with the different zangzu simos while they sang. In other words, I was there to put on a show with them. Barring all senses of shame or embarrassment, I found myself naturally moving and dancing with the simos. Pictures were taken. Laughter was present. It was, after all, a rowdy good time.

                After I had left the zangzu household, we headed toward a large theater, where we were to go watch a cultural show highlighting various Tibetan dances (much like WashU’s Lunar New Year Festival). At the theater, a few girls from a different tour group that were at the same zangzu house as us were also headed to the show, but wanted to get a picture with me. Apparently, when these girls were asked if they saw any silangs they liked, they pointed to me, the dancing third brother. The tour guide that was taking the pictures for them asked me if I was ABC, and when I said yes, he responded that I looked like Wang Leehom. Afterward, we went into the theatre and enjoyed ourselves an elaborate show. So, after feeling like a celebrity and making various Moves like Jagger jokes with my sister, we closed the book on this Tibetan excursion.

Take this note and read it!

This sermon I listened to recently was very convicting to me, and so I have compiled it to a certain extent, in a hope to share with everyone.

Now to preface this, the sermon series the church I go to is currently in is called "Surprised by Joy." This sermon in particular talked about what obstacles we have that hinder us to have Joy. After all, Phillippians 4:4 calls us to rejoice:

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 

So what really stops us from being joyful all the time? Life adversity, problems and sorrow, one would respond, get in the way. But the real answer seems a bit intuitive, albeit important to point out. We are unable to be joyful without God. Because of this, this leads us to the book of Nehemiah, where we derive 3 central tenets to remaining joyful in the face of adversity.

1. WHEN YOU WON'T FIGHT: Sometimes it is hard to really hard to motivate oneself to gather up the courage and fight. Nehemiah was rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, and those opposed to him would come and physically threaten them to stop building the wall. Nehemiah then told his men via Nehemiah 4:14, and then armed them all with swords, bows and spears:

Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight...

2. WHEN YOU THINK THE ENEMY IS TOO BIG: The difficulty is just compounded if the adversity is so daunting, that you believe it can't be beat. The sense of being David going in to fight Goliath is intimidating and nerve-racking...minimum. But the idea is to always pick your battles wisely, and not jump in blind, but keep a level head about yourself. Nehemiah continued to build his walls and the enemy continue to harangue him with not threats this time, but cordial invitations to "peace talks." Nehemiah knew that if he went to one of these talks, he would be assassinated. Invitation after invitation, Nehemiah craftily responds with Nehemiah 6:3:

I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down. 

Our great project is the life that God has blessed us with. We are carriers of the will of God, and mirrors of His One and Only Son, Jesus Christ. Our mission and goal are too great to go down on any simple adversity that appears. We must continue to persevere.

3. WHEN YOU SNATCH DEATH OUT OF THE JAWS OF VICTORY: This one originally confused me too, thinking, "shouldn't it be the other way around?" However, the other way around is a good thing. What we tend to do, is overlook our small blessings and focus on the negatives that surround us. We grow to become apathetic and tell ourselves lies in order to "protect ourselves." After some time, Ezra the scribe came and for the first time in many long years, the people were able to hear the Scripture read to them. As Ezra was reading the Word of God and listed out the reasons why people have suffered, people listening started to cry and be filled with sorrow. Nehemiah proclaimed to everyone that being able to listen to Scripture is a blessing, and that them being able to listen to it now, was a sign of God's forgiveness; that God continues to be their God, and that they should focus on that, highlighted in Nehemiah 8:10, one of my favorite verses:

Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength. 

We strive to relook and refresh ourselves with those three verses, Nehemiah 4:14, Nehemiah 6:3, and Nehemiah 8:10, to give us perspective and strength when dealing with, coping with, conquering adversity in life with, of course, the strength of God.

---

What Ken (the lead pastor at my church) recommended us do, was to write up a post-it note or piece of paper, with big bold letters:

TAKE THIS NOTE AND READ IT:

And then underneath, write out the three conditions that stop us from Joy, as well as something that you are personally challenged by.

When you won't fight.

When you think the enemy is too big.

When you snatch death out of the jaws of victory.

When __________________________

Finally, include the three inspirational verses found in Nehemiah that will help us remember:

Nehemiah 4:14 - Remember the LORD, who is great and awesome, and fight.

Nehemiah 6:3 - I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down.

Nehemiah 8:10 - Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.

Tape this to a place you walk by often (a bathroom mirror seems to do well), and constantly remind yourself that God is for you, and be encouraged.

The Move In

Hello everyone.  This is my first blog post from the new desk that I built myself (or rather, assembled).  The internet is a little spotty here and there, but at least the living arrangement seems to have worked out.

I have a nice little studio apartment on the first floor, and to be honest, the space is more than enough for me.  Even at WashU, I had one of the smaller rooms in the suite, and even when I had a huge double sharing with Alan, I didn't even know what to do with all the space.

Furnishings were nothing fancy but comprehensive.  I got a desk, a bookshelf, a dresser, a dinner table with 4 chairs, a coffee table, a love seat couch, and of course the bed.  This is the same bed that I used way back in middle school, so I guess it's pretty nostalgic now that I'm back on this very bed...8 years later.

The place, after unpacking about 60% of my stuff, is definitely "very me."  Everything other than the wooden dinner table/chairs and the love seat (that I swiped from my parents) are black, white or green (no more mystery to my favorite colors).  If you had seen my room back at WashU, you would instantly recognize 90% of the decorations and stuff, as I just like how my room was decorated from before, and no reason to fix what isn't broken.

One difference, is I have my own TV now.  Nothing compared to the 37 inch VYNEX monster that everyone was familiar with from my suite, but it will serve my purposes (which is sports, sports, some HIMYM, and more sports) very well.  As per usual, my desk is littered with technology, so I might just resort to moving my book studies to the dinner table.

If there was any real complaints about the place right now, it would be that my phone doesn't get reliable service in the back crannies of my room, but that's understandable since the 1st floor of this apartment is practically half underground.  Of course, my reception is best closest to the window and door.

Other than that, just wanted to throw an update out there on where I'm now living and some initial thoughts that popped into my head in the middle of my unpacking frenzy.  I'd just like to say, it's nothing compared to the awesome setup I had back with my boys in Mudd, then SoFoHo (x2).  But then again, it's not just the place you live in, it's more important about the PEOPLE you live with.

Cheers.

Life is like a box of chocolates...

but I find that it's more like a giant puzzle.

I see all of us like a puzzle piece, wanting to fit in where we can, trying to reach an understanding of a bigger picture, a goal that almighty Creator has already planned out for each and every one of us in perfect harmony.  It's hard to see clearly, as we're merely one piece in a million, but through the journey we each take, we try to find that one other piece in a million, that just strikes out to you.

You realize that one piece is the one you want to be with, the one that you are meant to be together with, through thick and thin.  No matter how good, how bad it gets, you know you can count on the other piece to lift you up when you're down, celebrate with you when you're on high.

Every place that you're lacking, the other piece brings out of you, that piece seems to benefit from everything you have to offer.  A teamwork that is infallible, a friendship unparalleled.  Someone who motivates you when you feel down, knowing that you would easily do the same to cheer and comfort them.

I know where my other piece is, and I will continue to cherish her, as she may very well be aware.  Have you found yours?

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

No, I'm not here to talk about medical schools and their rolling admissions process.  Rather, I'm going to be talking about my experiences and what I've learned from it.

Since getting accepted to Michigan, I wanted to figure out my living situation in Ann Arbor, but a point stood in the way.  Of course, Pham was the number one pick in the roommate draft (sorry, sports references are how I roll), and needless to say, it would have been legendary.  I had things mostly figured out, but nothing could be finalized; you can't go ahead and get a 2 bedroom apartment when you don't have both people finalized.

So here we go, impulsively speaking, Pham decided to choose Michigan out of the schools that he got accepted to, and of course, that's excellent news in and of itself, besides the fact that I now seemingly had my roommate for at least the upcoming M1 year...but...before we speak too fast, there's still a waitlist.

So perhaps I was forcibly ignoring the possibility that Pham will want to go to any other school than Michigan (in hindsight, it was kind of foolish of me).  So when Pham notified me that he was taking his talents to Manhattan to join Cornell Medical, I couldn't help but feel a little like the Cavaliers (NOTE: I am not by anyway equating Pham with LeBron...that is too unspeakable).

However, unlike Daniel Gilbert, and post slanderous nonsense on the internet and throughout the national media, God calls us to understand and forgive.  I learned that things always happen according to God's plan, and that meant placing me into an environment where I don't have the comfort of falling back to old friends, and pushing forth not only as a missionary, but also to expand my network and establish new contacts.

Score:    Steve -- 0 : Elusive Roommate -- 1

Fast forward a couple weeks.  Now I'm in the hunt for a new roommate, and by new, I mean brand new.  All of the people I've known from high school who are part of my Medical School class are girls, and so therefore, not on my list.  I originally planned to live in the fraternity Phi Rho, but apparently, missed the housing lottery because I was on the Wisconsin Dells trip.  How...inconvenient.

Needless to say, I went apartment hunting elsewhere in the area, and with a stroke of luck, managed to find a guy who (no homo) I really hit it off with.  We organized a couple trips to go and settle a living situation in a nice apartment.  However, right before we finished paying the deposit to hold the apartment, Phi Rho notified my roommate that he got off the housing waitlist, and he was seriously considering going for that.  He gave me a call and told me the, I guess, "great news."  In my mind, I only saw the flashing lights of the scoreboard:

Score:  Steve -- 0 : Elusive Roommate -- 2

But honestly, I was happy for the guy.  Seriously, it's like impossible to get to live in the medical fraternity, and so getting off the waitlist is  like winning the lottery, literally and figuratively.  In my heart, I felt a little helpless in the whole process; but I just realized that this was no curse.  I shouldn't be upset with what has happened; rather, I had to recall what I had learned the first time around.  I'll just have to keep rolling with the punches.  God will help settle everything in this turbulent time.

In summary, God challenges us to forgive, for no matter how grievous the act was against us, it pales in comparison to what our sins have done against the Lord Himself.  As Colossians 3:13 says, "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

Loneliness

A feeling that I am not that unfamiliar with.  Some say it's a sign of weakness, a sign that you've been broken.  Others claim it's a manifestation of psychotic unbalance.  I've also heard that it's just how one feels, when everything in the world seems to be crashing down on you.  Hard.

No, I'm not equating loneliness to depression.  I feel that when you have depression, nothing ever excites you, nothing really gets you going.  You're simply...not happy.  Loneliness is a bit more of a complex beast, in my own honest opinion.  To be fair, I don't think I can ever say I've been truly "clinically" depressed, but loneliness seems to be a reappearing "friend."  Perhaps thats why I regard loneliness more complex than depression.  Who knows?

At any rate, I write this not because I want to turn my ruminations blog into an emotional livejournal redux of some high school girl, rather, I write to reflect on the power it has over me, on my experiences, and my constant struggle in trying to overcome it.  The funny thing is, I'm not trying to overcome it with my own strength.  I'm trying to overcome it with God's, but it's been a constant battle, and I guess I'm learning about myself as I'm fighting.

God has given us the ultimate promise in Hebrews 13:5: that I, the Lord God Almighty, will never leave nor forsake us.  As encouraged and uplifted I feel every time I come upon this verse, I struggle as many Christians do, to apply this to myself.  I am all too good at giving the comfort to others, to give them the emotional, spiritual, mental uplifting they need to at least get over the hump that day.  I find it infinitely harder to get comforted when I feel lonely.  It's not that I don't know this verse; it's not that I don't know Our Father's promise to us.  From what I see, I am perhaps being unreasonable with myself, setting my own standards of comfort too high, and therefore being unfair to everyone who is trying for my sake.

There is still much for me to learn about the issue of loneliness.  Perhaps it's a partial dab into the realm of depression, for when we don't have God, what do we have?  If we can't say that we don't even have someone of this world to try and "pull us through the next day", and we're unable to see God's promise fulfilled in our lives, then we are truly lonely.

In that regard, I guess I am lucky and therefore ungrateful.  I am lucky to have friends that will look after me, an amazing, special  person who will always try to comfort me even when others have given up, and of course, God is always looking after this foolish child of His, pursuing me so that I may be fully comforted and healed.  In this sense, I must apologize to those who have cared.  I was blind, but now, I can only say I am starting to see.  I can only pray that God will continue to work in me, for the day that these feelings, that loneliness, will leave me alone...forever.

Her

All it takes is her handwriting,
and it makes me giddy.

All it takes is her smile,
and it gives me goosebumps.

All it takes is her kiss,
and it makes my legs weak.

All it takes is her happiness,
and my heart swells with glee.

All it takes is
Her.

Paging Doctors Pham and Sun

Hello all,

For those who have been following my blog faithfully, I give many thanks.  You guys motivate me and encourage me to continue writing for the sake of writing, than just to appease the academic needs of courses.  If you haven't seen Pham's blog yet, it is thephamtommenace.wordpress.com.  Hopefully you guys will give him the same support that you showed me, and support a young and new blogger.

With the two of us going off to medical school this coming fall, we decided to collaborate on a blogging project.  This project will encompass the two of our experiences in different medical schools, and an account of how faith has played into our application processes.  Hopefully, this will help guide the rising Christian (and non-Christian) Pre-Meds get a sense of this mysterious, tedious, and daunting application process.

We will each be bringing in our own experiences, as well as our own writing styles, culminated into a reading that will be not only informative but also enjoyable.  Cheers!

You can find the blog at: phamsunanddelilah.wordpress.com

Post-Graduation...Post

Graduation was precisely how I envisioned it.  When I expect nice weather, it rains; therefore, when I brought a poncho to commencement so as to prepare for the rain, it is 80 degrees with bright sun the entire commencement ceremony.  As I sat next to close friends, fellow seniors and lifelong companions, I watch as people left and right take off their thick, stifling, hot robes in order to get even the slightest bit of cool breeze in the air.  So much for formality and ceremony.  But, at the end of the day, all that is just pomp and circumstance.

Pardon the pun.

One of the purest and most touching moments for me during the graduation, was the talk of Elie Wiesel.  Aside from being amazed at his number of honorary degrees (apparently over 100), one line stood out to me.  "We should celebrate, not denigrate our fellow man."  Is this not what Jesus called us to do in the first place?  We're called, by Jesus, to "Love thy neighbors as thy love thyself."  And believe me, we love ourselves, alright.  I guess what this showed me, is that under the tightest of scrutiny, and philosophy or ethics in the raw, humanity is yearning for an elusive concept trifecta: conciliation, collaboration, and celebration.  It has only reinforced my drive to follow in Jesus' footsteps, and do my best to spread the ministry that has changed my life for the better.

I don't view graduation as a door closing on a era of my life that has now past, but rather, a series of multiple doors that have now opened.  I find myself at an important stage of my life, not because my future career has been determined, but rather, I have realized a little more of how God plans to use me to spread His Word, and be a sign for His Kingdom.

It is an exciting time for us, seniors, now alumni.  We will be travelling into the "real world", with a very real opportunity to spread the effect we've had from God bringing us all to WashU when we were but wee high school seniors.  Let us conciliate with those who may have wronged us in the past, collaborate with those who have gone through the last four years with us, and celebrate the new opportunities that now stand in front of us.

-----

Psalm 119:105
[Father God], Your Word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.

The Big Triple Digits

Hello all!  It's been a blessing, really, blogging and sharing the crazy things that are floating inside my head.  Some of you have been following me since I first started, others, joining as my blogging has progressed and grown with me.  There have been ups and downs, periods where I would blog pretty much every day, and periods of where months would go by, and I wouldn't even know what to write.

I feel obliged to give a longer, more thought out post, when it comes to my 100th post, so it was fitting that it came during a time when my other obligations have been taken care of already.  So enjoy, this one took quite a bit of time of revising and revisiting, so hopefully it turned out okay.  Cheers.

Angels and Demons

It’s sometimes lonely thinking about what I am, or rather, what I’ve become.  Perhaps I’ve been like this for a while.  It was a weird realization of who I am, but when I got a chance to actually look at a true mirror, I saw what I most feared.  My name?  Stromnikos.  They say my name came from the word for electricity, for the violent nature of my temper, the power of my anger and wrath.  But isn’t that how they name all demons?  The very nature that dictates why people who wrong me, well, people tend to avoid that.  But I digress.

It’s not hard to see why people find it difficult to get close to me; fear of being shocked and hurt would deter even the bravest and most stubborn of souls.  But, I find comfort in the few people that I value, for them, it seems like the thunderclouds only make life that much more exciting…like some sick version of Stormchasers.  At any rate, my life is at a more or less standstill.  I hang out with the people who enjoy my company, I don’t go out of my way to mess with people, and we’re all good.  Living the demon life.  Until, that is, I met her.

It’s been said hundreds and thousands of times that Love makes people do stupid things.  But that’s “people”.  Not demons.  Others say that Love is, in actuality, a demon that corrupts and overwhelms a person’s otherwise rational judgment.  That couldn’t be true, since demons don’t mess with other demons; whose side is Love on anyway?  She’s beautiful, I tell myself.  The way she talks makes even this icy heart of mine melt just a little.  The way she smiles warms up everyone else in the room.  The way she cares, well, almost raises a sense of guilt when I turn around and mess with a helpless soul.  But only people do stupid things, right?

One day I found myself talking to this angel.  She smiles sweetly at me, staring straight to my core, through the spiky exterior, through the intimidating glares, and through the defensive thunderclouds that used to be so reliable.  My name’s Castella, what’s yours?  As if the Earth stood still and Father Time decided to take a lunch break, I found myself, surprisingly, at a loss for words. 

I prided myself in demonic wit, in biting satire (literally), and in silly parody humor that would probably offend anyone who wasn’t in on the actual joke.  So why can’t I seem to talk back?  Stro…m…niiikosss.  It literally took forever to get those words out of my mouth.

Stromneeekos?  Cute! Maybe we can spend more time together later?  Bye!  And just like that, she blew open my world.

As the time went on, we spent more time together, my demonic friends gave me grief that I was totally losing my reputation, that I wasn’t worthy of my name anymore…but strangely, I didn’t care.  If Castella thought I was fine the way I was, then I was fine the way I was.  I found myself caring.  I found myself being nice, I found myself restraining every urge to using those thunderclouds.  It was as if…dare I say, trying to impress this angel?  What have I become?

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.  I mean, angels and demons are about as different as black and white.  There couldn’t have been a closer match of polar opposites.  But somewhere deep inside me, I don’t feel like a demon, but rather…a person.

Is it worth pursuing?  Humanity, that is.  I feel like a frog on the bottom off a well, looking upward at the possibilities above, unable to reach it on my own power, unwilling to leave the comforts of the depths.  It’s been an incredible journey…and now that I’ve gotten a taste, I can never truly go back.

Stargazing...in my room.

A little known fact is that I really enjoy stargazing, especially in nice warm nighttime weather.  There is nothing more comforting, than sitting outside or lying on a hammock, staring at the stars, taking in the often-seen-rarely-appreciated scenery.

It's hard enough to find time outside of the hectic life of a college student to slow everything down, and just breathe in the night air.  On top of that, living in Saint Louis, it's tough with all the light pollution here and there.  It's hard to find a spot that is truly dark enough that you can just be one with the darkness so that the stars can shine through.

However, I received a gift from my darling that couldn't have been more appropriate for me.  It was a lighted globe with pokable holes that were aligned in the shape of the constellations.  At first, I didn't really have high expectations, since it didn't look that impressive, and the idea seemed too simplistic to work.  Of course, I appreciated the thought and not really the actual tangible thing.

After the two of us finish assembling the globe (it was actually reasonably challenging), we turned off all the lights and closed the blinds.  When we put in the batteries and turned on the light inside the globe, my mind was, simply put, blown.  My room's ceiling was turned into the night sky that I only knew so well.  Placing the globe propped up in the center of my desk, it was relaxing just staring at the constellations suddenly appear on an otherwise bland ceiling.

It's amazing.  The globe has re-ignited my desire to go out and re-establish that old rendezvous that I had with the stars at night.  It'll be good to see them all again.  It's like seeing old friends I haven't seen or talked to in a long time.

DST

Since this blog is named for this, I figured writing a post for today was near-obligatory.

Daylight Savings Time this time around (heh, interesting word choice) wasn't all too bad.  In fact, it just naturally happened for me.  Somewhere in the middle of the night, an hour is lost, only to be found again in October.  As I got  up late (or early, depending on persepctive) to make sure the clocks were changed right, I hardly noticed any real changes in the night.

It seems funny that we'd practice such a thing, since time is usually viewed as continuous and ever flowing, and yet we make two disjointed hiccups, in efforts to save daylight.  Funny, we didn't save daylight, certainly if the clocks are changing at 2 in the morning (at any local time).

But this phenomenon isn't without repercussions.  It is one less hour of sleep (actually, if you woke up like me, it was probably a bit more than that), it was one less hour to get ready in the morning, and it was a lot more than just one more person missing from morning Sunday service.

If we lost the hour 2AM to 3AM here, what transforms this hour to an extra hour of sunlight when we get it back?  Is it like compounded interest?  Is it that good things come to people that wait [half a year]?

For me, life goes on as usual; reminiscing on the late night hours that we miss out on now.

Nature Laminated, Mind Illuminated

I look outside, and immediately am tempted to walk outside.  It's quiet, almost too quiet, where it's like everyone in the world but me has disappeared.  As I explore this deserted wonderland, I see a long, winding path before me.  A chilling breeze blows across my face, and I am reminded of the loneliness that we face when we rely on ourselves, and not God.

I carefully tread forward, as the ground has been turned into a brick-colored skating rink, with no handlebars or walkers to help guide you.  I slip and fall from a section of hidden ice, and when I climb back upright, I see a row of trees, standing together, united in their foundation of the Earth.  The trees are deeply rooted, bound to their support Rock individually, but empowered together, all frozen physically and seemingly in time.

The tree branches are completely covered with a not-so-thin layer of ice, as if someone came across the world with a giant laminator, and has sheet-protected the entire outside world.  As I stand there, now mystified by the delicate nature of each individual tree branch, leaf, and berry, I cannot help but notice the beauty and attention to detail.  A feeling of happiness mixed in with a touch of awe overwhelms my mind, as only the Lord Himself could have created something this beautiful, and in such a short period of time.

As I continue my trek, taking in the frozen sights, a cell phone chime echoes.  As I pull the phone out of my pocket, a warm, familiar face greets me while I look down at the screen and press Answer.  I can't help but smile as I pull the phone closer to my ear.

I guess I wasn't so lonely after all.

New Year Resolution ver. 2011

2010. It’s been a long, difficult journey, highlighted by some pivotal events in my life:

-I’ve suffered and recovered from a massive episode of heartbreak.

-I’ve found a venue for my creative writing, which serves more as a stream of conscious thought.

-I’ve found Jesus again after nearly 4 years of a hiatus away in the darkness.

-I’ve studied for and taken the MCAT, applied to and interviewed at Medical Schools (I’m STILL interviewing at those medical schools).

-I’ve found out that there are not only different kinds of love, but in the most unexpected places (trust me, I wasn’t looking).

-I’ve gone through the worst academic semester, in my entire career (including middle and high school, and of course college).

-I’ve successfully implemented my 2010 resolution of self-improvement, and plan on continuing this into 2011.

-I am dating the most amazing girl ever, who not only keeps me accountable, but constantly challenges me to love God, keep Him as the center of my universe, and praise Him for what he has done in my life and in those around me.

That being said, my New Year Resolution for 2011 is related to worshipping God. From a very young age, I’ve been blessed with musical talent and a sensitive ear for intonation. Only recently, have I been able to truly use this blessing and gift to worship the One who gave it to me. Being part of the ACF Worship Team has not only opened my eyes to what it means to play worship songs, but also allowed me to find joy in bringing other people’s hearts closer to God through my gift.

One thing that I’ve always looked at with a grain of salt was money. I’ve never really truly valued money, I’ve always seen it as a means to get things done in this physical world that we live in. To that end, I am generous, if not borderline reckless with the way that I spend my money on others. I hardly ever spend things on myself, unless it was through some agreement that I had promised myself, and therefore worked hard for. When I heard Pastor Darrin talk about being promiscuous with your money and not your body, I first felt like I was in the clear, because I was very generous in paying for people’s meals, covering for their tab if they forgot their wallet, etc. However, I realized that I was missing a key aspect of it all. This was God’s money, and I’m only entitled to be spending so much of it, before I have to start giving back.

With that in mind, my New Year Resolution for 2011 is to keep track of my spending per week and give 10% of what I’ve spent on myself and others back to the Church through offerings. This way, I can not only feel like I’m contributing to God’s work here on this Earth, but also, in a way, worship God.

God bless and have a Happy New Year, everyone.

The Artist

“The artist colors your world, and the Sun lights up my world.” I remember when I first read the line; it was a nicely written little line on a sheet of paper in the library. Since it was the library, all I did was let out a sigh of contentment. I still get goose bumps just reading and thinking about this phrase. It characterizes not only a transformation, but also realization of self.

I was a fading star, approaching life with the soft grayscale tones that would play the quintessential part of silent movies and bad French movies. Life became something that just happened; day in, day out without any repercussions. I was slowly living the life of doomed monotony—I was content, but not happy.

Then she comes along. She reminded me of a simpler time, back when life wasn’t about this or that…it was about appreciating the simple things in life. It made me realize that we shouldn’t complain to God that we receive minor setbacks; rather, it was more beneficial to praise Him for reminding us how great the good times are. After all, if we didn’t have the bad, we wouldn’t have the good, great or amazing either.

It wasn’t easy, gripping the paintbrush after being out of the game for so long. I wasn’t sure which colors to use, or how much I had to use to mix. All I knew, or remember for that matter, was that the end result was to look pretty. Hence, I’d try my hardest to make it the sweetest, the prettiest, the cutest pictures; if not for me, for her.

But at the end of the day, it reminded me of who I was, changed who I am, and impacted who I will be. She has reignited something in me: the spirit of an artist. Now the different aspects of being an artist have all come in; they can range from something as simple as dancing in the rain to something intentional like writing various notes. If anything, life is exciting again.

Routine

I am a man of routine. Things generally fall into place.

Sitting in my room, I’m spinning on my swivel chair. As I switch between my two keyboards, my fingers are playing two different tones. At one instant, they’re tapping a barely audible Morse code, relaying messages onto the pale white glow of my computer screen. At another instance, they are composing a soft melody, playing for ears that long to hear them.

Despite the moon being unable to shine into the room through the blinds, the room is well lit, with a mix of colors between the different digital screens found scattered around the room. The dark grey and light blue backgrounds of the two computers blend in with the bright red characters found on the clock. The electronic panel of the keyboard contributes a pale palette that only mystifies the dreamscape of colors on the back wall of the room.

Suddenly, the lights black out. The lids to the computers are closed, the keyboard turned off, and the clock alarm set for 7 in the morning. The light coming from a charging cell phone reveals multiple post-it notes scattered across the otherwise clean desk. A scribbling noise is heard, and the moon eavesdrops on the words of a soft prayer that floats out the window with the fresh night breeze.

Some people ask me why I do it, and how I can hold up this routine.

I tell them because I’m happy.

The Sailor

The night is long, and the day is rough. It would seem that the waves have calmed down a little. The man, mature-looking but still well in his youth, pulls out his telescope and looks around; it's all clear, he can relax for the time being. It's been almost a year since he embarked on his last voyage, the smell of adventure out there entices him to come back. He feels like he found his calling, the amazing beauty of the great horizon drew him back out to sea. He is no inexperienced sailor; his last voyage had more than its fair share of hardships and storms rocking his little boat. He was skillful, and navigated the seas for almost two years, before one storm ended the journey.

* * * * *

That fateful night, he had taken his usual preparations for the night, as it didn't seem unusual in any way. As he was slowly ready to call it a night, he spots the unbelievable; the little vessel was headed into one of the worst storms that he had ever witnessed. He had heard tales of such turbulence, but it's one thing to hear about it, and another thing to survive it. With a deep breath, the sailor grips the ropes and bravely navigates ahead. Despite the sailor's best efforts, the violence of the storm was too great, and the vessel capsized. The sailor gripped onto a larger piece of his broken ship, pedaled towards the horizon, and prayed every sunrise to make it back to safety. Although he prayed long and hard, a part of him was lost forever at sea.

* * * * *

One day, after his prayer, he heard the sound of a horn, a fleet of fellow sojourners cruising nearby, and was fortunately rescued by them. As they brought him back to civilization, the sailor was welcomed into the fellowship of travelers, and there he was helped with provisions and a newer, re-built version of his old ship.

* * * * *

He will never forget the help that he got from the fellowship. He will never forget the love and grace of the Lord who answered his prayers and saved him. As he looks into the horizon this time, he only sees the beautiful sunset ahead; it's all clear, he can relax for the time being. It's been almost a year since he embarked on his last voyage, the smell of adventure out there entices him to come back. He has found his calling, and although the waves may get bumpy later, he now just looks and smiles at the setting sun.

As the sailor's boat drifts out to sea again, a soft sigh of content is heard whispered among the lull of the waves.

The Return

It has only been too long since I last posted my note of hiatus.

Recently, in my writing intensive (and when I say intensive, I mean intensive) class, I had been struggling all semester long (up through this far, at least) trying to find my writing mojo. It was a frustrating time where not only did my writing grade suffer for it, my motivation for blogging was also shot.

However, the last paper, one that required us to analyze, break down, and conceptualize the reasons behind the success of a political speech, was one that played to my forte. I've always viewed myself as someone who writes well when he is analyzing. As Ronald Reagan said, "it's a time to return to the first principles."

Finding my writing mojo was easier than I thought. I had to return to the basics of what made me a writer. I wrote my best when I was painting a scene, conducting a musical score of letters and words. I wrote my best when I wasn't thinking, calculating my next line of argument. Well this is the return to what works. My last paper (and the good grade that came with it) was the affirmation of my writing style, and the confirmation of hope that He provided in response to my prayers.

My creativity is reflected not only in writing, but also my music. I've been so busy and hung up on the whirlwind of things that is happening around me, that I haven't really had time to indulge in delicious melodies, to dive into a sea of harmonies, and just lose myself in the synthesis of it all.

Tonight, I return to what I want to do with my late nights. Tonight, I sing with the stars. It's good to be back.

The Puzzle Box

A concept that I've been recently exploring is the idea of being a child of god, and how one is fulfilled through complete trust and faith in the Lord.

Remember those puzzle boxes we used to play with as children, the one with the star shaped hole, the square shaped hole, and the circle shaped hole, and the respective blocks? Even when we were little, we soon figured out that the only way to get the blocks into the box, you needed to put the star block through the star hole, the square block in the square hole, and the circle block in the circle hole. Makes sense, no? http://image.made-in-china.com/2f0j00OMWaSJVlyrqd/Wooden-Building-Blocks-Box-861014-.jpg

Now imagine yourself as one of these puzzle boxes. However, instead of these geometric shapes, we have an interestingly shaped God-shaped hole. That's right...a hole shaped of God. Now, in our defiance and breaking away from the Heavenly Father, we think we're mature enough to be able to substitute whatever we want in this God-shaped hole. This is what we as Christians see as idols. We try to fit money, sex, career, family, love, relationships into the hole meant for God, and it leaves us empty and unfulfilled, since none of these fit correctly.

Only after we accept that there is nothing that we could possibly substitute for God, and that we have a loving Father God that allows us to become children again, and "regress" back into that childhood logic. Everything was much simpler back then: God is the only thing that fits into the God-shaped hole. When that happens, we are fulfilled, we are happy, we are faithful.

We have then, and only then, become children of God.