Untie the Knots

There are things I just don't know (well, duh, comes any reply). But some things disappeared without my even having known. I only noticed sometime after the loss, and by then could only approach the situation with a sense of uneasy yet practical acknowledgement. Do they even matter anymore? How much? How much did they matter in the first place?

Some things are but should not be. Should they matter if they never did before? Why so?

On the other hand, some things that used to matter don't anymore, which is freeing, liberating, relieving. I am glad.

- - -

Quotes that I used to use to define my being -- dangerous, and not good, I know (save the last, that one I was simply tickled by every time I heard it):

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit."
- Nelson Henderson

" 'But I like the inconveniences.'
'We don't,' said the Controller. 'We prefer to do things comfortably.'
'But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.'
'In fact,' said Mustapha Mond, 'you're claiming the right to be unhappy.'
'All right then,' said the Savage defiantly, 'I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.'
'Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.' There was a long silence.
'I claim them all,' said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. 'You're welcome,' he said."
- Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

"LIES!" - Amy Le

- - -

I crave conversation that matters. Interestingly enough, that isn't as easy to find here as I had thought it would be. A lot of people have a lot of things on their minds, and so prefer to keep conversation light and for the most part, harmless, rather than open up extant wounds by delving deeper and exploring what is really on their hearts. And it makes me restless that at times it can be easier to get into good conversation with people who fall outside my immediate circle than to do so with those who are within. Not that I do not delight in conversing with both parties, but sometimes I think/feel that at least with the latter, talk should be more substantive than chatter.

I've also found more and more that I don't enjoy it when people feel the need to keep up the conversation for the sake of being eristic. I have better things to do than sit there and encourage, passively or not, the expansion of one's ego. There is better company to keep.

A sense of gloom overtook me some days ago. It came when ML called me to say good bye and wish me a good break, and settled immediately after. I think the call made me think of how much I would miss some people here while away. The only other time that I can remember carrying around anything like this with me is earlier this year, what was in the middle of winter before spring.

So I'm currently sitting in Logan waiting for a 6:00 AM flight and I have just over 1.25 more hrs to go. I figure I'll stay awake by organizing these thoughts that have sat here for quite some time and are most certainly waiting to take shape.

... ^ that was the goal... didn't happen, haha. Back at home, though. Unsure what exactly I'm feeling. Sunshine never felt so good, oh Lord, green was never so attractive (the grass and whatnot), and the sky was never so blue.

Winter

Yeah, it's been a while since I last posted... over two months! Wow, I don't think I've ever had such a long time gap here. But yeah, I haven't quite drawn out enough to post... every time I think of something, I scribble it down in shorthand in a running draft post, but a lot of those ideas have just been floating around, not ready yet to be plucked from the air and molded into form.

A bit mopey now; some would call it brooding but I'm not sure I like the term. Anyway, a poem until next:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Autumn Leaves

Sometimes, as I write, I cannot fully give form to my thoughts/ideas, and I realize that it is because I miss the people I'm writing to. (or am I really missing the people themselves, and not just the shared sense of near unconditional acceptance, or the openness and lack of barriers in conversation, or camaderie in a time of minimal stress/pressure? or what?) And as ironic as it seems, yes, sometimes I cannot bring myself to call or email or write to them or suchlike.

Why is this so? Is it because I cannot deal with the fact that sometimes I am somewhat dependent on some people, emotionally? Or is it because I don't want to burden those people, even when I know we stand well with each other? or don't know if should be sharing here and there -- balance? to the point where being physically incapacitated? shouldn't be, but not quite immobilized, but.. on the way there.

So in my ancient and medieval philosophy class, we've been reading several works by Plato, Aristotle, and other classic philosophers. Some of the views held the ancient Greeks make me think men, as in males, hold some of the most despicable views on the relation of the sexes. I wouldn't consider myself a feminist, as I find that subscribing to feminist views relies on blindly ignoring several natural facts of life, so I believe that women should be treated with respect and should share in equality of opportunities that improve the nature of their beings. I do, however, wonder why women of these works, or even also of history, didn't protest. Was it because men used violence to subordinate them? Most likely so...

Humankind is indeed doomed without true love and light. We as a whole and as individuals are susceptible and fall to so many things.. it's utterly crazy and ridiculous.

Haunts are only haunts if you let them such be.

This isn't a particularly special thought that I'm about to share (not that other ones are), but I was reminded that entities aren't always as cool as they seem, and some don't seem as cool as they are. So much for prejudgment based in an incomplete set of outward factors, haha. 'twas comical in a sense, actually.

- - -

So all of the above are thoughts collected from perhaps the last few weeks of September and the first few weeks of October. More sit up in the mental depository, but they have to swirl around for a bit before taking form and presenting themselves here, so until then, good bye.

STOP.

Have you ever had dreams in which the course of events occurs so quickly and becomes increasingly worse to the point where it feels as if you know you're encompassed in alternate reality (or not?), but at that very time it is physically strenuous to break out of it? I experienced such this afternoon, but I have no idea how those issues that seem to have been plaguing my mind arrived there. It was curious, indeed, seeing things pop up in my mind that I hadn't consciously thought of in a long time.

^ That was two weeks ago... since then, I've found also that dreams can be scary, or objectively speaking, useful, in what they reveal about one's inner desires.

Caution and control!

courtesy of http://www.banklawyersblog.com

Haha, funny picture.

The feeling I had before that I needed to make this post longer, to somehow imbue it with meaning, what does that demonstrate or perhaps provide evidence for? Do humans inherently seek to go beyond/below the surface? Or is it just me? Har.

Mastering Montages

How sweet the smell of verdant grass,
and water in between;
The latter sprinkles life and zest,
the former things unseen.

--EHC

So apparently I entered preschool not knowing any English. I cried for a week, says Mums. I think it was queries and conversation amongst refugees and volunteers at the IRC a few weeks ago that fished this previously forgotten thought out of the depths, allowed it to surface.

Last week, I was outside in the yard imagining how in a week or so I'd be in Boston, staring up at the night sky, and by then I wouldn't be able to come back to SJ like *that* or anything.. it was a sobering thought. All things large and small come to mind when one fixes his gaze upon the firmaments and marvels at their reflective glory.

I was thinking about the different paths that people take after high school, roads that seem to continously diverge and meander in unexpected ways until they're so branched out one can hardly trace one to another. But we're all strung together by a common thread, are we not? A solid thread of glowing gold. The good-byes to people you expect to see again relatively soon, the good-byes to people you don't (know if you can) expect to see for some time, and the good-byes to people you don't expect to ever again on this earth see -- each carries a different weight and tone.

Life and faith, both can be complicated. Yet their essences waft simplicity. Notwithstanding, is it not better and more personally rewarding to actively wrestle with questions than to shuffle through the frames desultorily?

Can you mark out your moment in the montage of man? in that of his maker?

to know one's heart

photo courtesy of nathanphua

Last week this day, I was amused to realize a minute after I'd picked out a red t-shirt and white shorts that the date was that of SG's National Day. Hah.

- - -

Why does He love us so much, even after we mess up time and again?
How does He love us so much, even after we mess up time and again?

Rhetorical, unfathomable, indescribable.

Plaque and grime -- > time to scrub, time to clean.

From the depths of the sea

the starting of the action is most difficult. inertia, opposite of momentum. i know i cannot start alone, yet why try? i don't understand the reluctance to compact and package. i do prefer to leave things open, to leave threads hanging, but i know there needs a guide. cannot i? without it i remain mired, gasping for air in a place i chose to step. but overcoming does not necessarily lead to life, not adversity to deliverance and growth. there is life in overcoming, deliverance and growth in adversity. learn, internalize, remember.

some things that seem harmless can be actually the opposite if not utilized well. for example, the past few weeks i've been spending time browsing through items of lesser importance, rather than focusing on higher goals that ultimately mean so much more. i realize that i am sinking, and i know i can grab onto a life vest, or even just start paddling, flailing my arms around widely, something. i know i can be rescued if only i cry out.

but 我開不了口。我真的開不了口。想開口的時候，i feel like, why bother? and i really mean that in the literal sense of the word. why bother Him, who must/could be so exasperated with a volitional failing such as mine? even though He's patient. i know.

perhaps the flaw here is in the "i know," the claim that supposedly affirms i was of compos mentis while making such decisions, or while allowing such things to happen. obviously.. i wasn't, right? at least, not in the highest and purest sense of the word. otherwise, all this wouldn't have occured, would it?

and so we begin.

Tamen per fidelitas, He continues to show grace, though. just about every time i look at RBC's My Utmost for His Highest, it's just what i need. it really is...just what i need.