Thoughts on thoughts and prayers

Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers. It seems like we have been sending quite a few of those lately. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Thoughts and prayers are much needed and appreciated, especially in these times of trouble and sorrow. It is good mental exercise when done right. It requires of us to take a step back, to reflect, and perhaps recalibrate where needed. Yet, when all has been said and done, we ought to have more done than said.

Look, thinking and praying aren't meant to be easy. It entails much deliberation. We pray because we acknowledge right then and there we need a bit more guidance, that we surrender ourselves to a higher power. We may not have the right words, we may not know what to do, but we ask humbly that we may know of them.

A thought and prayer loses meaning when at the end of it you have not been able to identify at least one thing you could put into action. A prayer is not meant to relieve you of your burden or responsibility. When you say amen, you are not saying goodbye, end of discussion, it is out of my hands and therefore my conscience.  Instead, you are indicating agreement to an action plan of sorts, "so be it and lets make it so."

In light of all that has occur, beyond sending thoughts and prayers, we ought to examine how to actualize said thoughts and prayers. What is the course of action from having taken a step back and welcoming G-d's input. Too often we pray hard for an answer from G-d when the answer has always and simply been, "You, with my help."

So, beyond sending your thoughts and prayers, beyond asking what would Jesus do, ask, "what will you have me to do?"

Amen.

DACA

I have lived a significant part of my life ever conscious of the fact I am a foreigner in a strange land. As a Chinese growing up in a mostly "white" Canada, to being a "banana" in the midst of growing Chinese influence, and now being a Chinese Canadian in the US. Always navigating conflicting cultures and impulses. Always trying to blend in while being different.

What has made it bearable all these years is the wonderful support and love I have received from the immediate "village" I have found myself in. I have made fast friends, and I have brothers and sisters despite being born an only child. I have uncle's, aunts, mentors, and "parents" when my own were far way. I am forever grateful for that, and would like to pay it back and pay it forward someday. I hope I am doing a decent job at that. I am humbled, and I know I am loved, and it sustains me.

Yet the fact remains I am ever aware of the ephemeral nature of it all. That at any moment I may be deported and suddenly find myself homeless amongst the lands I have lived. So, tonight my heart is heavy for those affected by the administration's decision to rescind DACA. I can imagine what it like when all that you know, all that you have come to identify with, grow accustomed to is threatened to be taken away. 

What makes us Americans? What makes us Canadians? What makes us Chinese, Mexican, Argentinian etc? Is it a legal status, a passport? Do we need to truly carry a unique flag and wave it often; plant it on a soil and claim it? 

Or is it a shared reality, being willing to commit to a common cause, to one another through service, through learning to adapt, through opening our arms and embracing one another. I am a Canadian, a Chinese, and someone who has just spent the past 16 years learning to be an American. If I am this conflicted, how much more for a Dreamer? 

A part of me says don't write this, they are going to look at my social media during my application for citizenship, and they will see this and perhaps deny me. Yet, how can I remain silent when all that I have learned by being in America these past years is to speak up. Speak up for the underdog, for those without a voice. To make sure our neighbors are taken care of, when the poorest amongst us are provided for. How can I be silent when my instinct tells me I need to stand with my brothers and sisters regardless of their colour, creed, and orientation? 

If America has taught me anything it is that the USA values the gift of making others feel accepted, letting them know they belong. It is one of its greatest gift to the world, to say "all men are born equal" is to say we accept you as you are, you belong. 

As that famous poem goes, if I don't stand up now, who is left to stand for me when the time comes? We are all dreamers, here to pursue the American dream, and here I stand.

Solitude

It is hard to explain the tranquility of doing things alone.  To go wander about on a whim, to sit in the corner of a nice restaurant enjoying a good meal, to ponder without interruption. Ah, the liberty to be without question.

Sure, I enjoy company from time to time, I love to make others smile, to be there when they are in need of me.  I know the value of friendship, I relish the anticipation of sharing an experience with others, to sit by a bonfire and listen to stories. That's why I strive to pay extra attention and show appreciation for the little things in life, so that I may share them with others along the way.

Equally, I enjoy a cup of hot tea brewed to my liking, to be mercurial without fear of hurting others, to be quirky without being made to feel awkward.

I suppose society frowns upon the singular individual just as the wait staff worried about the fare for one person at a table for two.  I suppose people do worry for the lone individual, quietly tucked away.  I assure you, It is quite alright, I am alright.

I may not be euphoric, but I am happy. I know how to keep myself entertained just as I am confident in my ability to make you chuckle. I am an umbrella, I will be there when the time is right, be it sun or rain. I am a training bra, not fancy but supportive.  There is tranquility on my own. I am quite comfortable, so don't you fret.

The Other Side

Let me tell you about the other side.

Let me tell you about the black man who was threaten, beaten, and eventually lynched because he dared to exist with a different skin tone.

Let me tell you about the little girl who couldn't go to school because she was thought to be so dark her skin would smear the minds of those around her.

Let me tell you about the woman who was told she had to give up her seat, or the man who can't drink from the same fountain, or enter through the same door.

Let me tell you about the good Christian folks, quiet and very much frighten as men in hoods and cloaks march upon their lawns and planted a burning cross that has nothing to do with the teachings of Christ and Christianity.

Let me tell you about the millions of individuals whose brilliance and passion were snuffed out simply because they were of a different race.

Let me tell you about the women who were constantly mocked, jeered, belittled, and objectified.

Let me tell you of the many men and women who had to keep their love a secret, who had to live at odds with their bodies and their self-images simply because we have a finite tolerance of what is natural.

Let me tell you about the many people who lives in fear, who constantly worry that suddenly they will find themselves representing a whole race. Whose shade of skin made them anything but white.

Let me tell you about the other side who has to work twice as hard just to be given a fair shot.

Let me tell you about the other side who has been oppressed, whose ancestors have worn shackles, whose mothers couldn't vote, whose relatives were detained in internment camps.

Let me tell you about the other side, the side who has to go the extra length in order to be less threatening.

Oh there are many sides, but you tell me which side really has it bad all these years. Which side has sown the seed of terror, deny others their rights simply because they threaten a privilege. Which side has committed more heinous atrocities. Which side has a consistent record of dehumanizing and debasing based on concentration of melanin.

Oh there are many sides, and there are both sides. I told you about the other side. You tell me, which side of history do you want to be on.

Bubbles

As I grow older I began to realize that things may not be fine. Not always, and not for quite a few of us. For some, if not all, the bubble will burst and we find ourselves plummeting down a spiral that can be quite difficult to get out of. It is a scary thought, one that justly plagues each of us who are sentient.

Yet the triumph of our experiences is that we can overcome that fear and make the best of it. A bubble, however ephemeral, can be a source of joy and wonder. Just watch every kid who is enchanted by one That a bubble defies gravity and soars to new height is magnificent to behold.

So I guess our options are, knowing that bubbles can be bursted, do we make more of them or do we find that the formula that sustains them longer in the air? I think it is a bit of both.

Don't fret over whether things will be fine or not. Do what you can to make it fine now. Help others to be fine as best as can be given the circumstances. Help one and other to sustain that moment of levity.

Hope

Humanity is good, and at it's core perpetuated by hope. Hope that pushes a boy to ask a girl out or vice versa, hope that a child is worth bringing forth to this world, hope that they will be able to grow in an environment that loves them and nurture them, hope that motivates a parent or those involved in childcare to continue living their lives in ennobling endeavors such that their offspring may be better off, and hope that pays itself forward and to the generations to come.

Hope for the better, faith in the outcome, and love that motivates - these are the very things that make humanity endearing. They are also the very things that threatens the identity of those who are lost and lives in perpetual insecurity. Therefore we must continue to hope, to have faith, and to love incessantly if we truly want to eradicate this world of the hopeless, and the faithless - the very ingredients that constitute fear.

Sharing

Life is about sharing, it is about paying close attention to the things that goes on around you, take note of it and later get to say to someone, "gee, this is what happened to me today."  That's why being in love works, because when you are in love you are all about being alive and aware, always on the look out for cool things to share with that special someone.  Without sharing, we die a little inside, we gradually cease to exist, fading into wisp.

You don't have to be in love to share, it helps, but we can always share.  We can always swap stories and have meaningful conversations.  Life goes by fast, and if you don't start sharing experiences, pretty soon you have nothing to look back at and be nostalgic about.  It would be just a protracted sense of forlorn, like that feeling you get when you finished off a good [tv/book]series.  That's just too tragic for my taste, having no one to share to the point you refrain from experiencing life.