Monday, July 14, 2014

Obedience

Only you know the price of choice  
Listening to and heeding your voice.

Only you can tell the hurt that's carved
Into flesh too weak and starved.

Only you foresaw the faint glimmer
As clouds were lined softly silver.

Only you were in the fray
When emotions choked on every prayer.

Only you are worth the cost
Of being told my mind is lost.

Only you can make me move
You are all I'll ever choose.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Perspective counts


Size does matter and it matters where you look

Monday, July 07, 2014

Grass guzzler

Will happily eat longkang veggies for the rest of my life if only I get to spend time with a stocky grass guzzler all day, every day, forever and ever and ever and ever..... that's saying a lot since I don't have a penchant for kangkung.

Sarawak is so big and yet no 4-legged knight with soft muzzle and fiery spirit to be found.

 Sunrise on Mount Prabu

 Swimming in Tanjung Aan

This is my happy face.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Discernment

Decide 

what

people  

are 

allowed 

to 

know

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Linking with Ink

It happened slowly, gradually, over time. Without even being aware of it, unwittingly; knowing and yet unable, unwilling to take steps to rectify the situation.

The above description could fit a myriad of possibilities. In this instance, I write about the little piece of me that lives in every punctuation and verb and noun. Every pause and breath, every hurried phrase and pitched nuance. Prolific as I am, restless as I have been, waiting as I always will be, writing is not a mere account of my life to be advertised with good luck horse shoes or deep wisdom. Writing is invitation for neither ridicule nor praise, nor scorn, applause, appreciation nor judgment yet if they offer nothing and remove nothing, by the same token they are condemned as useless.

I took time out of writing to live in the "real world" instead of the wonderland of my imagination. In the "real world" I found the repetitiveness of the everyday both comforting and tiresome. I found that the anticipation to "do" was tampered by the arrogance of "can." I found that years can pass without communication and months can fly without taking stock. Without a creative outlet to channel my frustrations, to vent my hurt and reflect sense into a beautiful, tortured world, anxiousness took over, OCD spiked, possessiveness and control became paramount, nothing else mattered but self-preservation and self-reliance. I was riding the wave that God had created, surfing on a board of impossible grace, not wanting the momentum to stop, not wanting the wind to die down as fiercely as they howled, not wanting to catch the whisper to obey.

I could keep these thoughts all to myself. I could spend hours with stained fingers and bruised sheets, penning thoughts to paper, moving limbo towards a fixed course, all in the privacy of my own world.

No solidarity do I seek,
Nor understanding or comment,
Not even a squeak.

No kind word or harsh reply,
No long time friend,
No passer-by.

No talk of hope or encouragement,
Don't speak of worth or accomplishments.

Each to his own,
Each to his strife,
Each has his woe,
Each has his life.

Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Creating or Finding

Two trains move
Are they side-by-side
Or is there too great a divide?

One starts with I
One ends with me
But is it fate or destiny?

Is therefore right?
Or is it because?
Maybe it's down to a coin tossed?

Mutually exclusive
Do we have to choose?
Must it be only win and lose?

Perhaps the answer as always, lies somewhere in between for the more I live out my little creations, the more I find little impressions of my soul in the expression of my doing.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Learning to follow

I like twirling to the beat of my own drum. Unfortunately, when it comes to dancing, twirling to my own rhythm does not sit well with my dance partner who has the business of leading. I am quite sure my over-enthusiasm to twirl myself drives my long-suffering partner to despair that I might be an untrainable buffoon, hell-bent on remaining incorrigibly stubborn and unleadworthy :(

Must learn to control rise, fall, heel, toe, don't bounce, maintain tension and stop twirling myself. So many things to remember.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Interesting

Today
I suddenly feel
like things are
sorted.

What a strange feeling.

What does it mean?

What is coming?

Thank you God...
 ...
 ...
 ...
 ...
but what's next?

Sunday, January 12, 2014

If at first you fall...

If at first you fall, then try and try again. Apparently these words of wisdom are a call to persevere against the odds, to look forward to a future achievement, to prove that practice makes perfect.

I like cycling. I don't love it but it's fairly enjoyable and makes for some epic story telling. However, bicycles don't seem to like me very much (yes I personify inanimate objects including attributing them with malicious or mischievous intent) and I have the lacerations to prove it.

Prior to this evening, my last major accident was captured here which resulted in my face getting smashed in like this. But not to worry, thanks to divine TLC and papaya, I've since gone back to looking like any other nondescript Chinese.

After a not-quite-marathon laksa session with Ryl, I had been determined to complete 100 laps of cycling in my lorong. 3 laps in, I thought to throw in road hand signals and before I knew it, I had skinned my left knee and elbow. Oh well.

Will wait for the wounds to dry up then what is there to do but try and try again.


Monday, January 06, 2014

Round and round we go

Like a screw
I turn
Again
Again
Repeat on my head

On my head!
On my head!
Urgh
The results
Come crashing

Crashing down
Loud
Clanging
Noise
What happened again?

And again
I repeat
And the screw
Keeps turning
Round

Friday, January 03, 2014

Signed!

In 2012, February signaled a new chapter. A chance to break away, to discover, to grow. Much has happened in 2 short years. Knowledge has been granted but trust broken. Truth revealed and lies told. Friendships forged but others released. In all of this, I have been and still am, constantly engaged in a balancing act between being open and being shrewd. Between being trusting and being taken advantage of. Between bonds and superficiality.

This year, February will once again bring about a shift. Another chance to break away, to discover and to grow. Another chance to strike out on my own, to never fit into any one box, to defy gravity.

To be an irreplaceable misfit.

Thursday, January 02, 2014

Being resolute

After a significant hiatus of laying low (being the approximate gestation period of a human or a cow or a premature bear elephant (edited)), I have decided to reopen my musings to public scrutiny.

Although I have always enjoyed writing, I have recently been reminded anew that writing is as cathartic to me as playing or listening to music is to others. It stokes my endorphins the way running energises others. It calms my frazzled nerves and helps me make sense of a broken world, fluctuating emotions and the need for more. I guess one could say that writing is my drug. Zoloft* is my other drug.

I amuse myself sometimes when I reflect on past writings. I wonder where the wisdom has gone or how the wonder evaporated. Much has happened in the last 2 years and many lessons learnt will now only ever be remembered in memory because they were not written.

Throughout my life many people have told me in various ways to simply "grow up." That somehow wonderment and appreciation of the beauty of possibility was futile and foolish. I believed them and ceased writing simply because I thought that I needed to stop living in fantasy and rhetoric and start living in the grown up world of "reality." I am not one to regret even though the lesson learnt is bitter to the taste and raw to the touch.

Dreams can be stripped away but the result is not betterment forged in tough love. Far from it, the searing pain and dull ache that echoed of lost hope and forced self-denial concluded in mistrust, distrust, frustration and even hatred. I do not want to hate. It is a tiresome, burdensome thing to wield disdain as a Silverback does. It is emotionally draining to rise to manic incoherence and after to be numbed by stupor, unable, unwilling, to continue the fight.

Though I may be a cracked shell, I am reminded that it is no longer I that really lives but Christ that lives in me. After the shouting matches and night terrors are through, Christ is still there. Not the naysayers who belittle joy or the well-intentioned who fail to act, but Christ. Who else hears the hollow screams that pierce an already frail spirit? At the end of the day, when time fades and I read these words as though narrated by a different person, I know that Christ lives and because He lives, I will ink paper with my soul and not be afraid.

* Zoloft is my dog.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Septum

Thinking about partitions and compartments and whether things work in boxes, as chapters, in a progressive swirl or as indefinite possibilities. Where dreams have been made, foundations need to be built. That is the difference between a dream and a goal but is it possible that some dreams may never be realised as there may never be foundations strong enough to support them? Foundations are what you put into them. A drop of cement may be a far cry from what is needed but drop by drop, ounce by ounce, perseverance will create the building blocks to hold up dreams once thought impossible. 

Saturday, February 02, 2013

Two years after my last Myers Briggs test, I am now an ENFP. Clearly having personality crisis if I can't maintain one at a constant.

Friday, February 01, 2013

Poetry wells
When the heart be too frail
And the soul is too weak
And the body is tried
And the spirit has died.

Words overflow
When the mind is a mess
The big joke's on the rest
And the end is too far
And the goal a dead star.

Temporary still
After the storm has rolled by
When the waves lower lie
The anchor's fast to the rope
Through despair there is hope.