Off the beaten path

I have made a lot of little wrong turns here and there in my life. I have taken paths not intended, strayed from the ones planned, and gotten absolutely lost. Yet, along the way, I have discovered many wonderful things. I learn of things I otherwise would not, I experienced beyond what would have been merely comfortable. And while I thought myself lost and alone, I was instead found by the people I am meant to be with for whichever part of the journey. I am grateful therefore for the wrong turns I have taken. I may not be where I wanted to be when I first started, where others have thought I ought to be. Nonetheless, I am here, right where I should be.

To love a sparrow

Early one morning as I sat upon a bench along the trail, a sparrow came and visit with me.  Flying from its lofty perch on high, it descended to a spot not too far from the reach of my hand.  Our gaze met, its head tilted quizzically. Basked in the morning glow, I was struck by the spectrum of brown that speckled across its feathers, something I have never quite noticed before. I was at once mesmerized, and there came upon me such an affection for this creature that decided to grace me with its proximity.  I was almost overwhelmed by the desire to reach out and touch it.

But that's the thing, how do you show love to a sparrow? There is no doubt in my mind that if I act upon my desire, I will spook it and make it take flight, breaking the already ethereal bond that seemed to have formed. So we just sat in silence; I willing myself to project a safe space and all the positive vibes I can muster; all the meanwhile savouring the experience. I wanted so badly to prolong that moment, and while it still stirred a pang when it finally did fly away, I came to appreciate why partings are such sweet sweet sorrows.

That day I realize something - sometimes in life, there are people whom we just can't hold on to, no matter how deeply we care and want for them to stay. All we can do it savour their presence, treasure the experience.  There are beauty and love that are not meant to be possessed but passed on.  All we can do, all that we are allowed to do, is to do our best to create a safe environment so that the people and the things that make us glad can stay for a little bit, get rest, and move on in their own time.  That is the epitome of unconditional love, of stewardship.

So, learn to sit quietly.  Be still and of such hospitable countenance that people will come to you.  Be there for them, and be prepared when they leave.  Some will return, some will not.  Life is bittersweet, and I won't have it another way. 

All Hallow's Eve

Halloween presents a paradox for me.  On the one hand I absolutely abhor horror films.  I think it has to do with the fact that I am a neurotic person to began with (yes, I admit to it), and the "fear factor" just triggers in too much reaction and prolong residual effects.  I can honestly say I haven't watched a horror movie in a really really long time. 

On the other hand, I find myself quite enamor with the idea of taking up another mantle, putting a mask on All Hallow's Eve.  All Hallow's Eve, when the barrier that stands between our world and the paranormal or supernatural are at its thinnest. When immortals and monsters alike can put on a guise and roam in our midst, free to either pray upon the mortals (treat) or trick each other out of their powers.  For some reason, that notion intrigues me. 

I am not sure what it says about me.  I do know that for as long as I can remember, I have been a bit of an old soul.  I recall different lives and memories, and never quite feel a part of any one generation.  Inwardly, being out of sorts and feeling out of place comes natural.  Outwardly, it adds an intensity which I realize can be frightening for other.  So, to put others at ease, I have adept and be different character to different people and different groups.  They are all part of me, ranging from the goofy pun loving Andy, to the dark and brooding Andy.  There are all these masks, and somewhere beneath them is the true me who wears them. 

Day to day, it is different masks.  Yet for one night, I can choose and live out one persona in full without a care, and no one would know the difference.  It is the closest I can be to myself without having to accommodate for others. How liberating, how delicious the thought.  I can be archaic, and people would think it is just a costume.  I can be blatantly out of place, and would still blend in splendidly.  So while I am terribly afraid of horror, I heartily embrace the spirit of All Hallow's Eve. 

What it means to be manly?

I think somewhere along the way we got it wrong about how we teach boys to become men. Somehow, there is this notion floated about that to be manly and confident is to be loud, to come off strong, and uncompromising. To be angrily defiant in the face of any challenger and accusations made. 

We fixate on the hero narrative. That a man must overcome many obstacles, that he must struggle and accomplish many great feats of strength. Yet, we seem to forget that with whom the hero wrestles most often and must triumph over is not some mystical beast or lion, but the devil within himself. 

We overlook quiet confidence, the perseverance to endure the mundane, and the courage to admit one's shortcoming. We neglect the ability to be vulnerable, to care, to think beyond oneself, to show compassion. 

We erroneously worship the boastful, the prideful, the one who claims he is the better man. All the meanwhile we discounted the ones who are truly striving to be a better person than he was a moment ago, a day ago, or even years before - to be a better human for the next person. 

The result? We have men who are entitled, who are insecure and easily threatened. Who are vile and petty and cruel, and predatorial. We have men who lack reason, question science and possess little wisdom. We have a man who believes too much and thinks too highly of himself. We have a man who never quite grew up or conquer his demons. We have men like the ones we saw today, who talk over and shout down others.

- Written following the Nomination Hearing for the appointment of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court 

Humor

I try to find the humor in everyday life's occurrences, if I don't I think I would be in tears, which I suppose is needed from time to time, but not as much as a smile.

Life is funny if we stop to look at it; filled with its absurdities. The idiosyncrasies and peccadilloes that we each adhere to ultimately shields laughable irrationalities. I know, for I have been known for my quirkiness. In fact, I have often found myself the object of my own amusement and entertainment. There are innumerable instances whereby through self inspection I discover my penchant for idiotic and often quixotic notions.

 I am therefore grateful that first and foremost I can laugh at myself. From there, it is not that difficult to have a ready chuckle and an easy smile because suddenly I have levity. It is only right that life of such brevity should be lived in much gaiety.

Puzzlement

We are taught that we are part of a big puzzle, which I think is beautiful. However, often times the emphasis is placed upon being able to fit, rather than acknowledge that each jigsaw piece is different, with different edges, and different colours. 

We don't stress enough that it is perfectly okay to be on the other side of the puzzle or even on the fringe. We don't all need to be in the same space, but we definitely need each other to complete the picture. 

Heck, we may even be scattered all about and far from "our people". That being said, chances are, in the course of solving the puzzle, we will gravitate towards those who share similar traits, thoughts, colours, contours, and texture. As long as we are willing to connect, and find it within each of us to jive, then ultimately we will fit despite our differences. 

And, sometimes we may feel like that one piece that lingers on the periphery, discarded, forgotten. But wait long enough, who knows, we may just be that piece that finishes the puzzle. 

So hold fast to your individuality, don't trim yourself to fit in, and don't force others to fit you. If it is meant to be, it will be. You have just got to have faith that we are all pieces of a big puzzle, and we belong.

Betrayal. What's that got to do with Love?

A betrayal of trust inflicts perhaps the most grievous of wounds. Yet, it is through a singular act of betrayal to which we owe a significant portion of our Christian faith. Without Judas, we may never know of the sacrifice willingly offered, and the love that allows it to even occur. 

Too often, we get fixated on the act of betrayal, we feel the injury immensely and wallow in it. We question whether we can trust again, hope again. Yet, in all that time Christ knew all along that He has to be betrayed, will be betrayed; still, that has never stopped Him from loving and being charitable. That has never stopped Him to reach out to Pharisees and Roman centurions, to heal them and their loved ones. 

He did not allow it to bias His ministry.

We must remember that, we must hold fast to that. The church, any church can be broken by acts of betrayal and scandals. Its leaders can betray our trust, and our faith may falter, but don't turn away from it. Don't act out of fear of betrayal, or linger in the shadows of it hurt. Instead, we must overcome it, overcome the overwhelming sense of betrayal, for beyond it is an even greater abundance of love. Salvation awaits those who knows of betrayal's grief, account for it, confident and assured in the knowledge one can get pass it. 

The foundation of faith is form from love that rises above doubt and certainty.

The day after

It is early morning, the birdsongs have barely gain momentum, and the oncoming heat still kept at bay by evaporating dew. A red fox glared at me as I disrupt its patrol of its dominion. A flash of white as a deer dashes away into the undergrowth. The world was for a moment tranquil, the fanfare of last night's festivities gradually becoming a distant memory. 

For a moment, I stood on a tiny part of America that the forefathers have behold. A land undisturbed by the inventions of mankind, unfettered by the pollution of machinery. 

This is when the true colours of America became apparent. Not red, white and blue, but the lush green of grass gently swaying in the breeze, of the multi colour pebbles being polished in the creek. It is the variance of azure highlighted by the rising sun. It is the ever changing hue of dirt peeking from underneath sashaying shadows of towering trees. The silent strength of America salient in its fertility. 

Red, white, and blue is an over simplification, even superficial. The sublime power of these The United States of America has always originated from the blend of colours that toil its soil to make it fruitful. Red, black, brown, yellow, white and all the other colours of the rainbow striving for a common goal. We must remember that, like the spectacular fireworks we admire the night before, variety and colours are what make life interesting and enriching in the US. 

God Bless America!

E Pluribus Unum

I have pondered long and hard on whether to write this. There are a lot of compelling reasons to stay silent, but to do so would come at a cost. You see, I believe we have come to a crossroad in America. We have reached the point where the soul of this nation is at stake. It isn't about Trump anymore, it is beyond that. It is about lines that have been crossed, it is about things that should not have been normalized but are, and norms that should not have been breached completely cast asunder. We have lost what is ennobling, and have fallen prey to the enablers. 

Daily we have faced the deluge of one man's psychosis, that we have forgotten to hold accountable those whose sole duty is to keep such an abuse and aberration to the constitution in check. We have become distracted while the nation's narrative is repeatedly hijacked by a few, and not even the selected or elected few, but simply a few. We have surrendered our liberties and sacrificed our morals and principles to appease a fraction of the peoples who have little regards for anyone else but themselves and holds the constitution in contempt. 

We have become numbed to hypocrisy, we condone ad hominem driven attacks. Things that should have sounded the warning bells no longer do so, events that ought to be front page news now gets buried beneath the barrage of absurdity. 

We are being held captive, too shocked to react, and too naive to truly comprehend the damage that is being wrought without our consent. America, search your souls, I beg of you. Do you truly buy into the victimhood narrative? That the great nation that you are is being ripped off? 

Perhaps it is powerful to know you that can with-hold love, perhaps it is self-serving that you can dispense charity as you see fit. Yet, if you close your doors to those who are in dire need, separate the children from their parents, appoint those who do not believe in science or facts, or possess common sense or decency to positions of power; then what you have truly done is to become the very monster you sought in others. 

Even as I write this, there are policies that have set into motion consequences that will harm generations to come, and bring the downfall, perhaps not to your person, but to your children, and your children's children. The many deregulations, the appointment of sycophants, it all leads to one thing - entropy. When the rule of the day serves only one purpose - each person for themselves, then you cannot stand united, it is just impossible. 

Here is the thing, when you no longer can empathize, when you lose civility in your discourse when you don't trust your neighbour, and no longer offer a helping hand when possible, then you a miser and a bully. And that quite frankly is not the America I have come to cherish. That is not the America of immigrants, of individuals yearning to breath free, and would swear to protect the rights of others to do likewise. 

We may disagree, but we must not forget we work towards a common goal, to keep these states United - e pluribus unum. Be mindful of those who seek to divide and conquer, who targets and label and blame. Be mindful that we do not buy into that narrative. 

We must call out whenever decorum is breached. When those whom we entrust the sacred duty of checks and balances failed to do so, we must call them out and hold them accountable. It is not about Trump and his cabinet anymore. It is not about Republican or Democrat. It is about what is American. Turn back while you still can.

Depression

Here is the dirty secret about depression and suicides, it is not that the person don’t reach out, it is they can’t. One of the cruelest thing about depression is for one reason or the other, the ability to reach out is ruled out as a viable option to the person going through it. These reasons can range from “I am not worthy to bother another”, “I don’t want others to see me like this”, “no one really cares”, “ I just don’t feel like being around people.” So to those who said, “if only he/she reached out”, “if only they know we are there”, unfortunately, that is not how it works. 

It sucks, it is a cruel joke, and few are immune to it. So, be kind to one another. Perform small acts of kindness whenever you can; leave a note/text, show a smile, compliment. Be goofy, be genuine, don’t judge, and most importantly, don’t be afraid. 

There are dark corners in the labyrinth of our minds, and we may not be ready to dive in. But that is not our duty, ours is to raise a light as high we can so that some flickering light can penetrate into those shadows. Ours is to bellow our kindest regards so that a whisper of hope may reach the ears of the wayfarer in the deeps.

biases

I am often surprised by my own biases. I have strived to be fair-minded, to be inquisitive, ever mindful that I may not have all the facts that go into someone else's decisions. Yet, as of late, I find myself reacting more readily as opposed to taking a step back. It is a frightening place to be when I realize just how treacherous and judgemental my thoughts can be. 

Here I am formulating an opinion based upon a fraction captured in a singular moment in time, and it clouds my ability to perceive the whole. It is particularly poisonous, that false sense of insight. 

Understanding is an art, it takes patience, and a constant reminder to oneself "what do they know that I know not?" It involves being open and receptive to the idea there is more than meets the eyes. 

There is so much to understand, that needs to be understood, and it creates a huge margin for misunderstanding. Yet, if we take a moment to reflect on our biases, to say "wow, my frame of reference was invalid, or does not acknowledge your reality", think of the relationships we could have salvaged, the friendships we could have, the possibilities of expanding our experiences beyond what we know.

Grief

Grief visits us all at some point in our lives. There is the profound grief that follows the loss of a loved one. And then there is the grief of a lesser degree that arises from myriad reasons; the experience of which is no less confusing or impactful. We grief for different reasons, and in our own ways. Sometimes it is hard to own up to that or recognize it in others. 

There are good days, a lot actually, so much so that one is lured into a false sense of security, and then out of the blue, grief hits you in the guts, and it can be as raw as the first time. The trigger could be anything and nothing; regardless, the result is the same and you are left there to experience it again. 

Ironically, grief can be oddly comforting. You ride enough roller coasters you get to know how each one vibrates and can, therefore, anticipate some of the twist and turns. The thrill of a drop never goes away, but at the same time, it is something you can count on. So, as much as we dread grief's visit, it is familiar. 

So, we grief, either silently or aloud. Some expect us to collapse and succumb to it. More often, one puts on a brave smile and carry on. It is often not something one takes medication for, it is not a diagnosis, it is not something one is ready to share despite how common it is. That is perhaps the unique quality of grief, to isolate us even when it is so common. We turn our faces from the crowd, or the crowd shy away to give us room. One way or the other, we visit with grief, and it greets us like an old friend who knows us at our worst.

The Diner

There is something soothingly familiar about diners.  On the surface, it is a place bustling with activity, bordering chaos. Yet, should you sit long enough you will find the rhythm that makes these kind of establishments run so smoothly.

There is the wait staff that makes the regular circuit, carafe in both hands ready to replenish the thirsty souls, ever attentive. There is the expert cook at the grill, steadily decimating cartons of 32 eggs, plating omelettes, bacon, home fries, and wholesome goodness. There is the other cook, deftly applying butter to toast regardless of colour- white, wheat, or rye. There is the cleaning staff who constantly make clean utensils, plates, and mugs appear like magic. There is always an older wait staff, whose experienced eyes rove over the room, ensuring order, sending "underlings" to the unattended, making sure a nod or smile is delivered for those who need it.

It is a beautiful thing to witness how it all comes together. There is nothing more iconic Americana than sitting at the counter of a diner, with a thick rim thick body mug in hand filled to the brim with steaming goodness, breathing in the aroma off the grill, witnessing hard work and good service come together.

Get over the wall

What is the point of evolution if we don't use our faculties to overcome the primal instincts of fright, fight, or flight? We have been given these great gifts as humans for intelligence, compassion, and empathy. We ought to use them more often, to communicate to one another , to share.  Look, there will always be those in power who seek to strike fears in our hearts, to divide and conquer. They will talk of building walls, they will have us thing we are different. And in a way, it is easy for misunderstanding to occur only because there is so much to be understood to began with. So I say reach out, talk, build bridges.

You know why in a game of rocks, paper, and scissors the paper beat the rock? It is because an open palm embraces a closed fist, it teach us to be open and embrace hostility. Yes, it leaves us open to those who wishes to cut us down, to divide us. Yet, if we do what is right, then maybe, just maybe the might of those who can and are just will strike those who wishes to cut us down.

Incidentally, the act of enclosing a closed fist with a palm forms the character "illumination" in Chinese. Think about that. (Yes, I know the Chinese character is actually a combination of the sun and moon, but act to form it with ones hands is symbolic too)

A mother cries

Today I cried. I cried because for the first time in a long while telling someone their hearing is normal is simply not enough. It is not enough because it doesn't answer any questions but instead raises a few more. It is not enough because it means something else, something more, something frightfully insurmountable. 

Here is a child who has the potential to be happy, who by all appearances look normal. Yet his mother knows that not to be the case. She knows because while he can be seemingly content right at this moment engaged in his movie, the moments of inexplicable outbursts and frustration would last much longer, and there is nothing that she can do to comfort him. 

Her attempts at affection were rejected; no hugs, no kisses, no hand holding, no singing. So daily she feels dejected. She can't share with him the comfort food of her childhood, the recipes she knew by heart, because texture, colours, and certain tastes may send him careening into a wailing siren of distraught. So he cries and she silently weeps. 

He may hum, but he would not mimic the words she wishes to teach him. Words like I, Love, and You; words she uttered over and over again, yet it doesn't seem to ever register, and never uttered once in return. He may be the one not speaking, yet it is her who is always the one at lost for words. 

She knew his eyes are blue with flecks of gold, they were her eyes after all. There was a time she could stare deep into them, lost in their colours, a kindred spirit. She pines for those days again, when those eyes would meet her even for a split second. At least she thinks to herself she may catch a glimpse of the soul she knows to be there. 

So there we were, in a small booth, but the distance between a mother and her child remains ever so wide. "A hearing loss, a hearing loss I can deal with," she says over and over, "but this, this I don't know."

And so we sat and cried, together.

You too can YouTube

What I have learned from spending an unhealthy amount of time on YouTube is you can choose to be amazed by all the creativity and feats that are being posted, or you can be some wanker who never ceases to find something awful to say, whose negativity belittles and sullies the experience for others.

We have decisions to be made in this life. We can offer ourselves, our talents to the world; starting from scratch, with humble beginnings. We can nurture it, and cheer on others as they grow theirs. We can bear witness to the fruit of courage, persistence, perseverance, and talent. We can spread goodness, share ideas, sow positivity and hope. We can exemplify the beauty that life has to offer, and accentuate the positives of humanity in dark times. We can offer camaderie, bask in the glow of human triumph.

Or we can sit back, criticize, and become the under belly of society; condescending, never pleased, looking to score cheap laughs, and  exhibiting scorn and disdain.

So choose. Who would you want to be? Think about it while I go look for some more videos of kittens pawing at piano.

Sometimes I don't understand

Sometimes I don't understand.
Sometimes I don't understand the things that made you sad.
Sometimes I don't understand the decisions you had to make, the road you had to take to be here.
Sometimes I don't understand why you chose to be a certain way, or if you even had a choice at all.
Sometimes I don't understand the way you see things.
Sometimes I don't understand my reaction towards you.Sometimes I don't understand the source of my prejudice; ungrounded and unjust. 
But you know what? That's on me.
May I strive to understand.
May I try to listen, to be curious, to ask questions, to comprehend.
And where understanding falls short, may my compassion, and good faith bind the gap.
For my place is not to judge. Mine is to be kind.
Misunderstandings occur only because there is so much to understand. 

So sometimes I don't understand, sometimes I forget. But remind me, remind me to be first a friend.
Remind me to lend you a helping hand; to step back and think.
To resist the temptation of passing judgment without evidence, without examination,, without reflection, without deliberation.

Because sometimes I don't understand. I just don't understand.
And maybe somethings don't have to be understood, not right this second.
But doesn't mean I can't be understanding.

Micah 6:8

Years ago I walked into a church while on one of my meanderings. What would you know the choir was practising, and the anthem stuck with me. The words were simple, taken from Micah 6:8, " do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your G-d." It stuck with me. It was simple, a distillation of the faith that I have tried to pursue all these years. Yet, it can be elusive too.

What is just and what is mercy seems to be a moving target. What one deems just, another may think unmerciful, and vice versa. An example of this would be watching two young siblings arguing with their parents over a decision. Sibling A screaming it is not fair, sibling B petitioning for the said decision not to be revoked. 

I know in my own life, I struggle constantly between speaking my mind and obeying my heart. That seems to be where just and mercy seems to reside respectively, doesn't it? The logic that weighs [coldly] the merits and demerits, versus the compassion that searches for redeeming qualities. It divides the soul, it divides a parish, it divides a nation if not nations. 

So many of our societal issues come down to a disagreement on what is just versus what is merciful - immigration, abortion, welfare for the mass. It can be polarizing, we fixate upon it, and the argument takes life on its own. 

Yet, despite all that strife, the reality is just and mercy reside in one body, the heart and mind cannot function without the other. More importantly, the constant communication between the two is what constitutes the most important aspect of being - our souls. 

Grace, salvation, redemption, atonement, none of these have meaning if we have no soul. And the soul cannot exist if just and mercy do not complement each other nicely. Therein is the key, how do we reconcile the two? I think the first thing we must do is acknowledge that they are not polar opposites, but partners. That one cannot exist without the other. 

Do justly, love mercy. Notice that they are action items. There is an agency to them, and we are the agents. We have been charged to do both. But perhaps what can reconcile the conflict we often feel when deciding between the two is the last part of that phrase, " walk humbly with your G-d". Walk humbly. Humbleness, humility. That is the tiebreaker.

See, too often, when we deliver justice, when we shell out love, there is a certain ego that comes with it. The power of agency, to have that ability or responsibility, comes with the understanding that "I" can, "I" am benevolent and wise, "I" can withhold love. That "I", it can be very obstructive when "I" can't stand down, when "my" view takes precedence. Suddenly, it is no longer about just and mercy, but about you versus me. The rules of self-preservation kick in, it-is-me-against-them mentality takes a firm grip and reshapes our realities, to the point that we no longer share realities. 

So, how do we break that vicious cycle, how do we get past all of it? By being humble, by taking "me" out of the equation, and surrender to a greater power, a greater cause, and a greater consciousness. It is not about me, it is not about you. This is what is asked of us. "Love mercy, do justly, walk humbly with your G-d". It is an ongoing action item, it is how we ought to navigate and negotiate much of the conflicts in our lives. Three things we should do constantly, and by G-d, I hope we can all learn to walk and chew gum at the same time.