I saw this really cute picture on Matthew's T-shirt while the church fellows were watching the Manchester derby at the Queen and the Mangosteen.
All the clamor and busyness over writing the Honors Thesis has caused me to temporarily put aside plans for the music-based social movement that I've been dreaming about since late last year. And it's strange how God puts little reminders in one's life. I may not be hearing His voice as clearly in this season, but that doesn't mean He's stop communicating with me. Sometimes, as I'm reminded by Dominick, it's not in ways that I'm familiar with, or I'm looking out for.
I love this picture because the irony is so cutely displayed so as not to offend, but yet portraying a realistic side of humanity today. It's funny because unicorns don't exist, but rhinos do.
Most rhinos today don't realize (or even if they do they don't want to acknowledge it) that unicorns are simply white horses with a photoshopped appendage sticking out of their head. But they run so hard on the treadmill, longing to attain the slender white legs, shapely faces, athletic bodies that can be found on all the posters in the gym.
It's very hard to convince a rhino that God structured its body in such a way that it cannot be a horse (or a unicorn for that matter). Most rhinos take pride in the fact that their bodies look a little more "unicorn-like", be it with a shinier horn, slightly larger eyes, whitish skin etc. It comes across to them as strange that they should be valued for their strength, stability, toughness, and of course, their horn's medicinal properties (if any, really). Grace, beauty, speed, dexterity, those are the things they want but are unable to have.
Although I may be stepping on sensitive ground here, I feel that that it would be even more tragic if the rhino rejected someone who loved it as a rhino for another who keeps throwing insults at it for looking like a rhino when it's really because of a unicorn that he/she cannot have.
All in all, it's a beautiful picture. A logo that depicts a direction for the movement to come.
A hero is a man who's afraid to run away. -English Proverb
I have labored to no purpose; I have spent my strength in vain and for nothing. Yet what is due me is in the LORD's hand, and my reward is with my God. -Isaiah (Isaiah 49:4)
As you blow out those candles tonight, In my heart I hold you tight. I so wish I could be there now, Someway, somehow. I wish you happiness on this day, And may nothing but love, be on it's way. Floating in the wind is a kiss for you, A kiss filled with love, from me to you. I wish I could've spent this day with you, So I could've told you, that I'm in love with you. Just can't keep it inside anymore, I want to be with you forever more. So on your birthday I ask you to be mine, Until the end of time. So make a wish and close your eyes tight, Because your wish will come true tonight.
The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when Sad tries to bite its lip and not cry and smile and go, "No, I'm happy for you" ? That's when it's really sad." -John Mayer
Finally, done with my thesis and off for printing in a few hours time. I can do nothing but thank God for every step of this wonderful journey, because compared to many of my peers I probably experienced the least pain and most enjoyment doing this work. Too many of them are on Facebook articulating their worries since January, and the fact that I don't share their stress levels was often pretty worrying in itself. But I can only thank God for carrying me through in such a marvelous way.
This semester was a pretty amazing one for me really. It started out on the wrong foot, with misinformation among my peers in Sociology leading to a fragmentation of relationships that culminated the moment I got involved. The Honors Thesis was a means of hiding away admittedly, though in retrospect it was probably a better option than confrontation. An anxiety regarding family finances drove me to start working at a restaurant nearby for pocket money among 4 out of 5 of my weekdays, which God very kindly provided for the ideal opportunity. This led to some people interpreting that I was avoiding the Honors Room, which I didn't want to explain because I'd have to tell the world how broke I was, which wasn't something I was ready to do anytime.
But God's blessing continued to pour down! I had opportunities to work with migrant workers (which aided my Honors Thesis, even though it wasn't in the exact context), listen to their life stories, their worries and their difficulties. I learned the ropes of managing a boutique restaurant which my bosses left me in charge ever so often once the lunch crowd died down. Washing hundreds of dishes and cutlery, mopping the floor, wiping windows, sweeping leftovers (sometimes spittoon!) into my hands from the tables, dealing with extremely nasty customers who let lose their insults probably because of stress from work etc., all became a daily affair. It got so bad that in 2 and a half months, I became the most senior worker in the restaurant because even migrant workers couldn't take the workload. And thus the "promotion" to assistant manager for a mere salary of $5.50 an hour, of which I knew nearly everything in the restaurant except cooking, salary distribution and permit application. There were nice parts though. Some customers would mistake me for the boss, some of them would throw in a tip, and once in a while, some rich guy with a really pretty lady would come in. Those so pretty that one will never see walking on the streets or using public transport. Oh and yes, I could eat as much as I wanted after work ended at 3pm. +)
Despite all these, I still managed to go to the gym twice to thrice a week, reach home at 5-6pm and work on my thesis till late at night. Sundays were all spent in church, and after that in the other church where I helped out in the migrant worker service and did my research at the same time. Somehow, God magically produced time for me to do my Social Movement readings, and concentration to do my Business Consultancy readings during class itself. As I look back, it was truly amazing. Of course, other responsibilities were dropped or laid back, e.g. Youth leadership, Campus Crusade and Honors Representative. Friendships with peers in school were sacrificed, especially those from the same major, and a few from Campus Crusade too, all due to the lack of maintenance. But I did get to know my very nice supervisor better, who was all too happy to give tips on traveling in New Zealand during consultation.
In retrospect, I think I did live this semester fruitfully. And only through His guidance was it possible. I can't say in words how good He is, it's something one has to taste for his or herself.
It's strange though, despite how good God has been, even so recently, it's still difficult to trust Him for the next step.
Lord, take my anxieties away, and let me hold on to Your never-failing promises.
Amen!
P.S. For those whom have not been informed or aware, in thanksgiving to God for placing me on the Dean's List last semester, anyone I know who comes into the restaurant where I'm working from 11-3pm every weekday except Wednesday gets one free meal! Or if you come with a bunch of friends I don't know, then I'll give you all a big discount instead (unless your friend is a pretty girl who's single LOL) . So far only 3 people have taken up the offer, and it ends when I leave in end April! :) Oh and if you want to come, come after 1.45pm when the crowd has died down and the place is more conducive. I might be in the kitchen washing dishes, so if you don't see me, do pop in to look for me! +)
For no matter how many promises God has made, they are "Yes" in Christ. And so through Him the "Amen" is spoken by us to the glory of God. -Paul (2 Cor 1:20)
It's been a strangely quiet Good Friday weekend. That's probably due to the fact that I spent Good Friday overseas instead of being busy with some Crusade's activity like I have had been over the last few years.
Easter's been unusually quiet too. No Easter eggs in church this year, attendance has been the lowest since I can remember. Michelle and the band led a great worship though, and Vicar probably preached one of his most fiery sermons to date. I always thought that he was one to straddle expertly between the prosperity gospel and the brimstone-hellfire "hard news", but this occasion he made his allegiance pretty clear to the latter.
But I think the answer to why the season this year has been so meaningless to me lies deep within me. It's those type of days when suddenly Jesus' death on the cross becomes meaningless. Everyone's talking about it, and we're told to preach it with great excitement, but to be honest there is very little of that excitement inside. Ever since the stress of the Honors Thesis came crashing down, when the job applications all returned with a nil reply, when I'm finally retired from the youth leadership. A lot of things.
But in the middle of my despondency, I did manage (credit to God's grace) to cry out for help. He didn't answer immediately. But the important thing was, He did. And through an avenue I'm pretty familiar with: a hymn.
And life is worth the living, just because He lives.
It was my turn to do the powerpoint for the worship, and most of us usually don't become too absorbed in our personal worship because of the responsibility of making sure the right lyrics appear at the right time. But this part of the chorus to a beautiful hymn awoke me, and a hand tugged at the strings of my heart.
Is life really worth the living for me just because He lives?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of poverty? Would life be worth living if I had to live one of obscurity? Would life be worth living if I had to live one of loneliness? Would life be worth living if I had to live one of sorrow? Would life be worth living if I had to live one of imprisonment? Would life be worth living if I had to live one of pain?
Since a long time, I realized that the zeal in my heart had burnt out. Amongst all the competition, chaos, noise, I've lost sight of the reason for living.
My heart had grown cold slowly. It began with a broken heart, then a complaining spirit; combined with a lack of opportunities over time, I had given up on love. I had rejected the wild romantic spirit that distinguished my character for so long, and let go of the faith in God's promises to hang on instead to rationality and disillusionment. I had begun to swallow the lies that no one could love me, that I had to make myself more lovable everyday, more approved by people I don't even know.
And as time went on, tiredness seeped in. Expectations were not met. Acts of love were not returned, and worse still, despised and spat upon. Honesty was seen as stupidity and gullibility, even by those whom you thought would be in a position to understand better. Living and breathing became meaningless, almost as if it was hell.
Thus the question that I must ask myself: Is life worth the living, just because He lives?
Sorrow does not come when one realizes his own fear for his future; sorrow comes instead, when one realizes that he has no future. -Valentino Casanova
You have said, "It is futile to serve God. What did we gain by carrying out his requirements and going about like mourners before the LORD Almighty? But now we call the arrogant blessed. Certainly the evildoers prosper, and even those who challenge God escape."-God (Malachi 3:14-15)
Before going on this trip, I was totally preoccupied with my Honors Thesis and wondering if it was really a good idea to embark on this journey when the rest of my peers are dying from the stress of fluff production. I even toyed with the idea of asking Mum to find a replacement for me so I could stay at home while the rest of the family enjoyed the hot spring baths and gazed at the sakura.
But in the end, with God's grace I managed to rush the essay and finished my final draft for my professor to read. Yes, two hours before leaving the house for the airport.
To be honest, the Sakura is just a pink flower. A little thought, peppered with some frank, vicious logic similar to the opinion of a scientist obsessed with objectivity, it really is nothing fantastic. That's was the first thought that crossed my mind when I first set my eyes on the flowers at the airport. I couldn't understand why so many people, not just the Japanese themselves, were so crazy over this flower. At once, my Sociological background begins to suggest tourism ploys, need for symbol of national solidarity, cultural capital and elitism...
Then I dropped the thoughts. That was silly. People actually write poetry about the sakura, from intense emotions to light-hearted glosses. People will think about the flower before they die, before they went to war, before they knocked out from an overdose of sake. They had to be something about the flower, and I had to find out for myself.
It was only when I was sitting in an outdoor onsen gazing at some sakura that it suddenly hit me. I had to go back in time to understand the circumstances leading to the sakura being selected by choice as an emblem of beauty.
The sakura is first and foremost, pink. And the color pink is a huge contrast from the brown, yellow and green that formed most of the environment that people in the past lived in, be it farmers or samurai, merchants or artisans. Secondly, it was the symbol of spring, and probably the most obvious indicator of the end of a cold long season.
As the steam from the onsen danced into the sky, I also realized that most baths were taken outdoors in the past where the sakura can be seen, and people usually bathed with their friends or families, not with strangers. The nakedness brought about a level of intimacy not found in most Westernized countries, or even in neighboring China.
Then it hit on me.
Beauty has no meaning without memories. Memories that stir up emotions more diverse and complicated than the spectrum of colors found in the rainbow.
When people of the past commented on the sakura, they were unconsciously connecting to their memories. Poetry on the sakura when the war is lost and the suicidal harikiri was inevitable, the sakura is the most vivid memory of friends and family for whom the war was fought for. Literature on the sakura before one's deathbed is the best way to connect to future readers should one have the goal of leaving a legacy of memories to be invoked upon reading.
That's why children are unbiased towards beauty. Because they have no memories to link to. They are not impressed with shiny trinkets or beautiful scenes, much less flowers or music. Granted, one can get their attention for a short while; likewise the pink of the sakura stands out in the greenery of the mountains.
I understood. Leaning back with the warm water lapping against my skin, now made shiny from the minerals in the pool, the beauty of the sakura leaped forth from the petals that one by one danced in the cool winds of Spring. I envisioned a family: father, mother and children enjoying the onsen, naked, under the shelter of a sakura tree. I envisioned friends of a sick man who is lying in bed immobilized by the winter cold, and now celebrating the coming of warm sunlight and the hope of life symbolized by the opening of the sakura.
Beauty is only beauty because of the memories we give it.
Maybe that's why we all see beauty in different ways, and yet they can remain that way as long as our minds can conjure the memories that we attach to this indescribable beauty, beauty that continues to challenge our very human limitations to share our souls.
P.S. Dad, Mum. Thanks for organizing this trip. I know it cost a bomb, but I also know that it means a lot to the both of you, and thus you spared no expense for this opportunity to spend time together as a family. I really enjoyed myself, and you both are the main reason why I enjoyed it so much. In my heart, the memories of you have been irrevocably attached to the amazing beauty that God has bestowed to the sakura.
The longer I live the more beautiful life becomes. If you foolishly ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverish. But if you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life. -Frank Lloyd Wright
