On convenience, faith, and medicine

It has certainly been a while. This is mostly an exercise of jotting down a stream of consciousness after a sermon that really spoke to me and a post-sermon conversation that really sparked some excitement into the mystery of God's plans for us. I apologize in advance for the grammar or syntax; like I said, it has definitely been a while.

                                              *  *  *

Today when I attended my girlfriend's younger sister's church, I was originally somewhat reserved, out of the stark contrast to how my church back home was. Gone were the multi-generational ministries, gone were the multi-ethnic ministries, and gone was the packed worship room facing a functional organ. I found myself in a church that was predominantly Chinese and Korean, almost entirely young adults, in a semi-empty elementary school auditorium with a small worship band on stage. This is by no means to detract from the power of God's work in this church; rather, the differences were simply put, not what I was comfortable in or something that I would choose "out of convenience."

Interestingly, this was the topic that their head pastor decided to tackle this Sunday morning. The scripture being Mark 11:15-19, it describes the story of Jesus returning to Jerusalem, only to see that the area in the great temple that was dedicated for the Gentiles to worship was filled with marketers trying to make a profit. People back in the day had to walk long distances to the temple for worship, and would need to bring along their animals that were going to be used for sacrifice. This was often an arduous journey, and the unfortunate scenario would happen that their sacrifice would obtain a blemish along the way, making it unfit for sacrifice. Thus, for convenience, these marketers would set up shop in the temple to provide unblemished sacrificial animals...at an absurdly marked up price. The apt example that the pastor used was a comparison to how sport stadium food and drink is grossly inflated beyond all reason.  Jesus went stomping through the temple, flipping tables, angrily telling these marketers to leave the temple, for they have "turned the house of prayer for all nations into a den of robbers."

This really resonated with me in the sense that we as a people often look for ways to make things more convenient and opt for the path of least resistance rather than the more difficult, possibly more righteous route. With this in mind, I uncrossed my arms and let down this guard of expectation, and just tried to see what God had in store for my visit here at this church.

                                              *  *  *

During the post-sermon social period, I ended up talking to a young man who originally was interested in the medical field as well, but due to financial and personal circumstance, was not able to immediately pursue it. He instead went to a school associated with the Air Force, and learned to be a pilot instead. He described how he was still interested, and wanted to fly medical missions trips where not only medical specialists were needed, but pilots as well. He described how he flies non-profit flights with a group called Angelflight, which provides a no-cost trip for those disabled or unable to fly regular, commercial airlines due to medical issues or machinery. He told me of a story how one flight was particularly turbulent, and out of concern for his "client", he went back to check to make sure she was okay. It turned out that she was writing him and his fellow co-pilot thank you cards. The messy writing only made that card that much more meaningful: no matter how turbulent or difficult it was to write, their client was immensely grateful for what they were doing for her, and she had to make sure that they knew that she was appreciative.

This really made me re-evaluate where I stood, being a medical student who has, in all honesty, never been in the real world or part of the work force. I have safely placed myself in the "education bubble" and as a result, never needed to think beyond my next test or my next patient. It let me recall how I felt God's calling to pursue medical school. It let me recall the fascination that my fellow Christians had in the young adult bible study small group when I recounted my hospital experiences. And finally, it let me recall how I could glorify God in each and every patient encounter.

I start my family medicine clerkship rotation when I come back from break. After working the surgery work hours, the outpatient setting of family medicine will be a welcome change. More importantly however, it puts me back into the outpatient setting. In my short span of providing patient care up to this point, I have found that many of the most meaningful conversations I've had have been with patients at these outpatient clinics. Away from the bells and whistles, hustle and bustle of the inpatient hospital floors, after closing the clinical exam room door, it is like the whole world has been shut out and it is just me and the patient, able to fully maximize doctor-patient confidentiality. In my conversation with the young pilot, I described how many patients will put down a generic chief complaint, but in reality have many deeper, darker secrets that they wish to disclose, waiting for an open opportunity and open ear to talk about why they're really here. In my shadowing and my own trial and error, my beginning line for taking a history in the outpatient setting is always a variant of "What can I do for you?" or "What do you want to talk about today?" The classic "open-ended question" technique that we learn in medical school may be that opportunity that the patient is waiting for to disclose his domestic abuse, her alcohol addition, or their concern towards a sexually transmitted infection, and are either too ashamed or too frightened to put it down on the entrance questionnaire. I compared this privilege like a "medical confessional" where patients could come to receive advice of how to proceed from someone who will be non-judgmental and sworn to confidentiality. The young pilot told me that upon hearing this, he was even more motivated to pursue some kind of medical training, and that he was extremely excited for what God had in store for me when I returned to being a medical student full time again.

                                              *  *  *

The sermon, coupled with this conversation that I had afterward, really drove home the point that our faith is not about convenience. It is not about checking off another task on the Sunday to-do list; rather, it is to hopefully find ways to integrate your faith into what God has called you to do, regardless of how challenging that may be. I exchanged phone numbers with the young pilot, to keep in touch and to periodically check in and see where God has called each of us in the future. I am excited to hear where God leads him next, and equally excited to see what God has for in store for me in the new year, in the remainder of my M3 year, and the remaining time I have in medical school.

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.

What does it mean, to be an extrovert?  Does it mean you like talking?  Does it mean you're attention seeking? Does it mean you derive happiness from being around others?  Does it mean you like going out?  Or is it a little bit of all of the above?

From my Myers-Briggs tests, the one thing that truly stands out above all else, is the fact that there is no introverted aspect to my personality.  I am (I've taken the Myers-Briggs at like 3 different stages of my life) 100% Extroverted.  That being said, I don't always showcase those stereotypical extroverted signs, nor am I usually the absolute most extroverted individual at any given point in time.

So why or how am I 100% E then?  The question stems upon how Myers-Briggs defines extroverted, and how that plays into my personality.  From their scale, I exhibit all the aspects or signs of extroversion, however, In reality, I actually show each of these signs to a lesser extent than other people, who may only exhibit 1 or 2 out of...let's say 4 traits.  This way, they are 50% E, but those two traits they may have, are very apparent.

This came up one day when I sat at a big dinner with some people that I knew.  I did not feel any obligation to get up and talk to everyone; in fact, I felt happy for once that I was in the background, just listening and observing, only really popping into conversation when I truly felt like I had something to contribute.

What's interesting is that ever since I've made it into med school, I've found myself in a role where I don't talk nearly as much as maybe some people remember me.  I find myself in a situation in which I don't know the solution.  I am more than confident that most people who know me in the medical school either have seen my argumentative, explosive side, and hence write me off as an asshole.  Albeit, I call myself that all the time, to have it be a general sentiment is, well, a whole other story.  I find myself dealing with said phenomenon by simply staying silent, biting my tongue when I feel the urge to snap at someone.  Of course, this usually just results in me sitting and listening, rather than contributing.  Those people who don't understand me (which is most, let's be honest), will just take it as me being judgy and having nothing really important to add to the conversation, and thus, ignore me altogether.

So, to bring this conversation full circle, what do you do when you're an extrovert that no one appreciates, or cares to talk to?

To this end, I've found myself doing better in 1 on 1 conversations, where the chance of someone misunderstanding me or me offending someone to be...well, smaller.  Second chances are a treasure to be cherished, as forgiveness is not easy to come by.

Med school, you have taught me plenty.

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?

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.

Sleepless in...Superior Township?

Crunch crunch.  The sound of corn flakes seemingly echoes in the spacious kitchen-living room.  A boy, unsure of what he is to do at...2:42am.  Why doesn't he sleep, you ask?  Oh, legend has it that he doesn't need sleep.  Some people say that he draws energy from people.  Rumor has it that he's just...different.  Regardless of the reason, here he is, typing away at a familiar bright screen, staring out through the windows facing the kitchen table.

It's going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.  The dark clouds appear almost like charred marshmellows against a black cardstock canvas.  Everything seems so...stagnant.  The real reason of why he can't sleep, is much deeper than even the most ridiculous rumors, and yet...it's normal.

He's having recurrent nightmares, you see.  If I don't fall asleep, then I can't have the nightmares...simple enough.  Ha.  Simple enough.  The boy's eyes slowly defy his wishes and start sliding down, just as the show curtains are about to rise.

Our boy finds himself on a boat, tossed and turned by stormy seas.  He looks down, he's already geared up in a full rainsuit, hands on the rope, trying to hold the sails steady.  The ocean's sure feisty today...I wonder what's bothering her?  No answer, merely a lash out from the ocean, resulting in a giant wave.  Is this how it's going to end?  Come at me, ocean, I'll be yours, dead or alive!  Almost seeming like it understood the boy's commitment, the ocean's waves calmed down merely a tad.  As the boy breaths a sigh of relief, his hand slips from the ropes of the sails, and his boat blows out of control.  As the boy fumbles to hang on, the rain is blinding and crippling.  A sudden swell from the starboard side knocks the boy off his boat and into the ocean.  As the boy is sinking into the ocean and all starts fading to black, an image of his love turning and walking away haunts him still.  Noooo...come back!!!

The boy wakes up, heart pounding, eyes alert.  It's going to be a long night.

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.

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.

Truths and Lies

I'd like to think of myself as a truthful person, where my lies usually come in forms of blatant jokes or blatant exaggerations in jest.

However, I've found that I have one blaring lie that I seemingly tell very often.  It's usually in response to a question that people hear all the time.

"How are you?"

I've found myself perpetually lying to this question, because frankly, not everything is okay.  No, my day isn't always great.  No, my days don't always go perfectly.  No, I am not well rested.  No, I'm not feeling well.  No, my classes aren't going great.  No, I could definitely use time away.  No, I'm not surrounded by people who love me for who I am.  No, I don't always feel included.

But when you think about it, how many people can you say, would actually listen to you, if you said that?  It's so much easier to say "Yeah, I'm fine.  How about you?"

I can lie all I want (it's just frowned upon) to other people, but I cannot lie to myself, when I look in the mirror.

I am NOT okay.  (Thanks for asking, though.)

LNYF 2011: Reflections

The Year of the Rabbit.

A year, characterized by an animal in American culture seen as lucky and quick, but characterized in Chinese culture as happy and sweet.  I couldn't have described this year any better about our preparations for LNYF.

Donning the black and red sequined pants for the 3rd time in my 4 year career here, Lion Dance has become something that is nothing short of symbolic for me and Jeremy.  We've come a long way since first looking at an LNYF trailer of Lion Dance, and saying to each other, "Let's do THAT."  Coming in as a veteran pair and picking up a friend along the way to complete the choreographer trifecta was not only fun, but also made the rather stressful job of making sure all the dancers knew the dance and did it correctly...easier.

I don't think any other dance (maybe Tinikiling) could really say that the dancers laughed nearly as much at their practices as the Lion Dancers did.  At times, it was kind of stressful, certainly when we appeared behind schedule and ended up wasting a lot of our late nights, either waiting on the entire crew to show up, or just silly Lion antics in between conditioning and choreo routines (i.e. jumping over blocks in Olin, tossing a recycle bin to simulate tossing a Lion head, toprocking under a head sit...etc).

I thought it was particularly advantageous that we only had one new member to our Lion Dance crew this year: Wendy, and boy (girl?), was she a great addition.  Not only did she pick up the dance very fast, but she added a brand new spark that we wouldn't have had otherwise.  Because of her, our Lions now even have names! Our black/red lion is now Cinnamon, the white/gold lion is now Sugar, and the little baby lion is now Pepper.  Seeing that kind of enthusiasm in everyone rehearsing, not only made the practices that much more exciting and productive, but it also left me confident that Lion would continue to be a baller dance, even after Jeremy and I graduated.

As a senior, it never really hit me that this was my last rodeo.  That, after this, there was no LNYF left.  When we finally got around to learning and practicing for Senior Dance, it hit me that the dancers in this dance generally only get one opportunity to perform this dance.  This meant that everyone put all of their energy into being ridiculous and highly spirited, appropriate for a class that has invested a full 4 years into this school, and for many of us, this show.

I could tell you that I was perfectly confident in learning all the dance moves, and I could say how my past dance experience meant that the choreo was easy, but that would all be a lie.  I hadn't danced anything other than Lion Dance for the longest time, and needless to say, this is a whole different genre.  However, it was refreshing to dance a routine not hunched over under a Lion cape; for once, people could my smile and how happy I was while performing.  I couldn't have asked for a more ridiculous, more appropriate Senior Dance partner than Lily, and I want to shout out to Lily, Jerry and Linda for choreographing what was probably the most legit Senior Dance in the years that I've witnessed the show.

I am so lucky to be able to have these experiences in the dances that I participated in this year, and the time passed by so quickly.  I am very happy that all the hard work everyone put in resulted in a sweet show, one worthy to end my LNYF career on.

Luckily, we've got a couple more performances on the side for Lion Dance in the next couple weeks, but after I hang up the sequin pants for good, I'm really going to miss it.

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.

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.

A better writer would have come up with a witty title for this.

I find myself struggling more and more to write academically. Actually, this is applied to writing in general. Perhaps it is because I am less passionate about each of the things that I am writing about, and/or not very well-versed in the topics for which I am required to move my pen.

As I continue to struggle with this growing problem, I feel nothing but just frustration; the lost creativity, the lost motivation, the lost concentration is something that I cannot get back very easily, or so it seems.

Until I find these three things, I may or may not post here. I will be back, but as of now, I need some help finding myself again.

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.

Schrodinger's Cat

The first time I heard this analogy was a little after junior year of high school, our AP Chemistry teacher had mentioned it almost as an afterthought, seemingly smirking because he was both messing with and blowing our minds at the same time.

The next time this little story came up was in General Chemistry, which actually explained the details, consequences, and applications of this.

I've noticed that this actually applies to many more things than just atomic physics and chemistry. It is a natural sense of anxiety and/or hope, based simply in our own knowledge base.

For instance, if my football team was expected to lose a big match-up against a division rival, but I had no television to actually watch the game, I would be, in a sense, both anxious and hopeful on what the result would be. This range collapses after I look up the score online afterward, where my team would have either won or lost, not both.

I think this has a lot to do with the concept of wanting to be in control of one's life, all the time; we seek to minimize the questionable, to lift the fog, and remove the sense of limbo from our lives. This is in relation to our new technological generation, where information is right at the tip of our fingertips. Sometimes, what we don't realize, is that spectrum of feeling, the sense of unknowing protects us, gives us hope. Some things can be left better unsaid.

For all of you guys who didn't know, this is where "curiosity killed the cat" comes from.

Maturity

As I've grown through college and become complacent with my status as an aging senior on campus, I suppose it is easy to say: "I've matured." However, with maturity comes many risks and problems that soon become apparent.

Maturity is only a hop away from pride, a skip away from missed priorities, and a jump away from the inevitable fall that follows.

I used to pride myself on the ability to get everything done, having not relied on anyone. That sense of independence was my drug, my delusion of grandeur, or as Elizabeth pointed out, my sludge. To be honest, it sure tasted pretty good when I was blind to what Jesus was offering.

We often talk about how we'd love to go back to high school, since all our classes were easy, things were very lax, and we could just hang out with people all the time. I am a huge proponent of letting my grades take a backseat (my grades are fine, thanks for asking) to spending time with friends and fellowship (IM Sports, sound familiar?).

The principle of this yearning to go back to a time when we were younger makes sense; we're just wanting it for the wrong reason. By saying this, we're still valuing our grades, our own free time more than the Father. I propose that we want to go back to a time when we were younger simply because being a child was amazing with an even more amazing Father. Who wouldn't want to be a child of God?

God bless Elizabeth for coming in to speak to us, and for us to take it in our hearts, and put her message to practice.

Skeletons

I find myself sitting awake, late at night [inclined to say, as usual]; the room light is off, although my desk lamp is still glowing weakly. Some Coldplay track is playing softly in the background, and a book of bones and skeletons lies open on my desk. Pictures of skeletons in various pictures and poses shimmer off the limited light in the room. How creepy.

I've actually never understood the scare factor of skeletons. They're the structural portion of something formerly living, merely giving us a very good clue of what the organism would have looked like when it was alive. After all is said and done, we have our own skeletons inside of us [and other stuff that we tend to hide], and we cannot separate that from ourselves. I am most likely analyzing this too scientifically to deem scary. That's no fun, oh well.

Perhaps the whole horror genre has taken this to the next level with skeletons that move and have been reanimated with "dark magic." Plenty of fantasy games, RPG or not, have used skeletons as an integral part of their mystical, mythical brutes of some diabolical mastermind's evil horde. What that says about what people view about the skeleton, I won't be able to even scrape the surface; all I know is that it would seem that culture has deemed the skeleton an object to be feared and the cause of many children's nightmares.

I suppose that's why the phrase "skeletons in the closet" is deemed so apt and appropriate about nasty little secrets that people hide. Now those, not skeletons, are truly scary.

The Power of the Space Bar

There's a small difference between a girl friend and a girlfriend. That small space, silent to the ear, speaks volumes on how one should react to and interact with this person. It's apparent to some people on which one is being used, knowing the context of the sentence, and the people involved, but other times, it's not so clear.

This lead me to think: what does this space actually signify? After much thinking, I didn't get anywhere, as it was a question too simple to over-think, yet too complex to provide a simple solution. While busying myself with reading, a relatively satisfactory solution appeared in front of me. The space is like a termination of a thought process. It is how we denote that a bundle of letters jumbled together creates one coherent thought/meaning, and is then separated from the bundles of letters before and after it.

It's a thin [invisible] line separating those two ways of addressing someone; isn't it the point to find a boyfriend/girlfriend who has those traits that allows you two to be best of friends? What dictates the differences? Why are there differences? What changes when that small space is deleted?

After all, shouldn't it be nothing?

The Healer

What can I really say about you? You’re humble beyond compare: you’ve helped millions of people around the world, and you do it without taking any credit. You know just what to say at any given moment. You know when to make someone laugh, you know when to help someone cry, you know even when they’re just out to have fun.

You look out for people, you really do. I can’t say your medical practice is orthodox, a lot of skeptics all say it’s a bunch of placebos and nonsense, but I think there may be something to what you do. You can make any furious person calm again; you can make any happy go lucky person reflective. Your power never ceases to amaze me.

After all, what greater compassion could there be, than you helping a grieving friend smile again? What greater dedication could there be, that you offer your help time and time again, without a thought about yourself? What greater intelligence could there be, that you can move millions with your words?

What is there left to say, outside of Praise God for creating music?