listening party

so it was, that i could not sleep till 5am. The events of the evening left me with courage that sat me up all night.

i sat in my brother's room, typing away, adding, clicking, putting together my annual obligatory tax matters. for some reason the regular pain on my back became a deep hum that felt like a soothing healing balm sitting on my spine like a warm glow.

"i was really glad you stood up for yourself and fought me," he said.

there were the familiar tears in his eyes, the ones i made question on their integrity. but i knew they were familiar because i have cried these tears before. those things in the past that inform us for who we are today, reaping the differences in the relationships we invest in. it is painful to hit wall after wall in our stubbornness to try and fix the world. i'm grateful we have each other on this journey.

it's like an epiphany. like facing up to the aggression of my dad. taming of the beast they call it. the beast really, is our fear. my fear.

well, i'm glad you charged into my room when i slammed your door. i don't know what recklessness i had to find the voice to speak up. i hope i didn't damage anything.

there was somewhat a release. a huge rock off my heart. i found my peace with God. the struggle i have held up for so long have come out in an overnight tussle. i felt delivered. there was a freedom and my feet was light as i picked up the alleykat to worship. i'm glad we pushed on in those 20 minutes inside the parked car before we headed for sunday's business as usual.

finally, i found my voice to sing again. there's so much to tell.

may our listening aids still work. may we never grow weary of love.

taming this wrestle

i apologized profusely as you angrily walked out the door. in hindsight, it looked like you had your last say. and it occurred to me i have always indulged you that way. maybe it's the instinct in me, maybe i'm just too soft, maybe i just enjoy the attention in your bully.

friends have warned with wise wisdom. this indulgence will do no one any good. it has taken me so long to let what lies underneath all the crying, anguish and my framework of love to say what really needs to be said. it has been eating me away to watch your defiance get the better of you.

tonight was the perfect example of how you would rationalize everything just to get your way.

i know it is difficult to hear me say that I don't believe you when you say you are sorry. for it comes too quickly. too conveniently. all the time. and just like you said, you would rather take the blame so everyone is happy. when did it become such that you need to save the world? you said you don't want to be condescending, well there, you just made a perfect spectacle of it.

i believe your ideals and intentions in the gesture of the apology but i don't think you know why you are sorry. and you only say so because you want the both of us to be in peace. isn't that sweeping it under the carpet? isn't that just plain not listening?

no, not to me. but to what the situation is trying to tell you. or like some may say, to what the holy spirit is revealing to you. to the state of your heart.

i hate sounding like i'm lording some spirituality over you. i know i gotta tame my tongue and i'm sorry i slammed your door. my bottled up frustration lost it's cool. tonight my grace hit a negative measure and i'm sorry i hurt you.

i'm really sorry but i love you this much to fight you to the ground.

some days i'm frustrated because i realized you have lost your leadership. you get swept about by the whim of your fancy that is guiding and informing every iota of your decisions and choices. that i look on with grim anxiety to see you lay everything down in the name of love, rationalizing it, framing, manipulating it with ideals of faith. what informs your faith? is it the holy spirit or your desire to walk down the golden road in the arms of your fair maiden? the line is so fine, somedays i believe every word you say. but there's never been peace in the trouble of these times. where is the holy spirit's leadership in your life? how then will you lead us, now that you have become king?

i am not there yet myself. so i am not judging you. i am questioning. challenging you with questions that I've been afraid but need to be asked, meditated upon, to bring us back in alignment to our spiritual ligament. are you angry now that you are reading all this? is your head spinning with defenses and rational ways to be right again?

someone once told me they have no respect for those who go from mother to girlfriend to wife. i stood up in your defense for i believe you are still becoming.

the irony of it all is, that after all this, you are still rewarded with a warm blanket and sweet love in the distant chamber to last you through the night, while prophets and priests sit painfully through the deathly silence and wait for the morning to bring back the dead to life. Who is this God we worship? What kind of a God is he?

well, look who's talking? i get swept about by your whim and fancy too. for i told myself i am not going to leave like all those who have left before. now, perhaps, you understand why my leadership took a fall and i can't quite sing to lead the congregation the way i did before.

ah, the things we do for love. defies all logic, faith and rationale, our double edged sword. i have no idea how i am going to rest tonight. What is it that you want from me, My God, My Father, My Shepherd?

different seasons

i never counted nor concluded on courtships and the courage that went with it. but lately those sweet sixteen movies have come to a slump. what used to be an endless annoying song, that season of love, friends disappearing into their love nest, is now a season of break ups and some, epiphanies on their journey so far.

i remember a wise godfather of this bunch of boys once said, that the whole idea of courtship is a journey to a decision on matrimony or not. or not. we need to pay attention. i have once fallen prey to the marketing messages that love is forever, is in the air, is, at first sight. lately, all my friends who found lovers in their eyes have now come out on the other sober side all single and separated. the ones we all thought were walking down the aisle, the ones we held high hopes for, now surprised or shocked.

there is a season for everything under the sun. a season to harvest, a season to sow, a season to uproot and go. a season to rest, a season to listen, a season to meet, plant, graft and grow. may grace find us in our decisions in the face of what we romanticize about the future. may we never believe that our lovers are all we need. for it's a lonely place to be when we come to the end of the road and find our bridges all burnt and irreparable. may it be so that we find our families in the light of our trespasses and trials.

for one thing's for sure, nothing is for sure.

say, it's just different seasons. reminds me of that song by johnny hates jazz i used to belt out in the hollow of my neighborhood stairwell, earphones, walkman, the world staying still for that 4 minutes.

anytime now

i've survived many a storms like these. ridiculously long drizzles that inflict more pain than the skin to those thunderstorms out in the sea, man overboard, capsized trunk and all. but i still find myself washed up time and time again to these painful shores, wondering if mercy ever will come, if my heart will stop beating, if i could ever be normal like everyone else. i'd give anything to be happier, brighter, smarter, cruel.

i know. i know and i understand. things are different. things change. i don't blame anyone for it. i just can't get off this carousel. i'm stuck and everyone needs to move on. somehow i remember those movie scenes. the ones where the victim gets trapped by sinking sand or the swamp and mud that swallows you whole it makes even the python jealous. it feels like i have my head over the surface, just enough to breathe, but not enough to feel my limbs, turn my head or look up to the sun. halfway between heaven and hell, perhaps this is how it feels. if there really is a feeling of heaven, ever. days like these, i start thinking i don't need to be around. i'm angry enough as it is.

did you know the nights get colder when there is only one body to heat up this joint? did you know it dries everything up and this place becomes a mirage that could kill any desert wanderer? did you know everytime you leave, something in me dies. yet, i can see the effort, the reaching hands, the calls just to check in on this patient, your patience renewing everytime you come around. you still my anger, you stoke my fire, you shake the frost bite off my shoulders, you won't let me go down so easily. i'll promise to try, but i keep hemorrhaging, keep losing it with the silence, the dark night, the hum of machines that carry no company of love and routine.

give me this day my daily dosage. don't stop revealing to me the heart of the matter. go easy on me. i don't want to miss a thing.

food

it's the one thing that surrounds us. a common denominator that equals all color, language or difference. and as asians, chinese people we are, we gather in the warm campfire of brunches, lunches, coffee, dinner or supper. and every morning or afternoon tea in between.

i spent my day with two coffees, brunch and a visit to the bakery.

as i sat in the post mix of the morning's interview, the clumsy toss of spinach, nuts and poached eggs sitting on the little ciabatta, made for more thought than food. i'm reminded once again, of circles that turn like wheels, coming back to kiss and whisper grace like the soft morning rain. no doubt, it was a blizzard this morning. but old acquaints that have matured into a deep kinship wine bring warmth better than a leather seat could.

i sat next to a giant, taking in every piece of wisdom, listening and pondering at his feet, realising, that I'm not the only one thinking about growing old with my mates and with those i have grafted into my heart thicker than blood. maybe that's why on my train ride to the burbs, it felt like i was returning home. we don't need a train wreck to bring us back, no, not all the time, no, not this time. my heart started singing again.

how many ways can you spell love?

I could count the phone calls, the long dinner conversations. I could log every piece of advice, put up every embrace like pictures from an old relic museum. those that wait by the bedside till the body is willing to sit straight. those who laugh and cry and never stop fighting with you and letting you have your way all the time. those who let you go. those who take you in. those who defend you. those who die for you.

my life is bought by the hands that held high in the ransom room, saved by the stubborn bell of love and belief, now waiting behind reins that can't wait to be released. i'll sing, archive and publish, just to say thank you. just to say, i love you.

frames

i watch your shadow leave the room, swing and wash through the corridor and witness the scent of your used shampoo filling the void that was once empty. i don't need no heater or regulating conditioning, cos you're here, inhabiting this place i have temporarily found to be home. home to a heart that needs safety, warmth, strength and that old school attitude to wield the sword and shield like that movie, 300. i know, it's just a romantic notion and it will pass. why is there a double standard in matters like these?

so i gather my fire wood, like the possums and squirrels and meerkats, dig, scavenge and burrow, to store for the cold seasons ahead, when the sun holds insufficient warmth for the months ahead. i capture still frames of goodness, courage, the father figure, the captain of my shipwrecked vessel, my home delivery of love and grace, to keep a memory of you, should time take place to make distance the fonder reminder of kinship without blood for water. i edit away, through late nights, under hoods of artificial light, archiving the perversity, my sanity, your brevity, watching you traverse a thin line of law & grace, life and death. for death you say, is necessary to bring life. i'll try not to think in memento verses of freud and his friends.

where this may take me, i don't know. but time waits for no man, certainly not for me a man with a limb and a paralyzed anatomy. i don't know if it will all come tumbling down. i don't know if grace is enough to save me from the overwhelm. but i'll make the best of my remaining years. to make sure what i leave behind brings life and gives you and those you find love in your heart to embrace, enough to be, till a ripe old age.

may wine do more than bring us fleeting moments of joy. may healing come from the years and the hands that made it all possible.

counter strike

it's all in the same bag. counter intuitive, counter productive. counter everything. why would someone give their word only to turn around and say, oh but there are conditions, can you sign here and here and... i hate it cos a lot of the trust that i thought i had from the get go of someone else's suggestion. turned out to be a flabbergast swat of ubershit. it sucks cos even when the offer was made, there are all these strings attached.

distills to this one thing. that there is still no trust. NO TRUST. Not enough to have to say it again and again, that this is for community and not for personal. since when have i been purely personal. of course, i stand on the outside, crying like a widow's brickwall and it's easy to be misunderstood. why is it that there's so much i have to do to prove myself? to prove that this heart still beats and bleeds not because of my personal driven agenda but the groan of the spirit? i'll put it plainly, you cannot separate what God has made me, i come in a full package, damnation shit, curses, fuck wit cuss and all.

don't trust me. trust my God who placed me in front of you. i don't expect a full spread on a gold platter. i ain't clean like that. but when you think about your promises and the power of suggestion, think about what you are holding back. put me together with the rest of the go getting opportunist out there and you'd be making the worst mistake. for all you know, this anger might just push me to join them. for i started that way didn't i? is it then my nature to go recreate and pick up where i left off?

don't need nobody's favour. i'll do it with whatever i have. so you have no claim over this. not that this is for my personal glory. it's just less painful to have to deal with the sound of dragging feet. generosity in this context is such an insult to the spirit we preach about. fuck this.