We think too much, or don’t give a thought at all. We feel too much, or we don’t want to feel anything at all. Yet, is it wrong to overthink or overfeel? Continue reading
When you’re 35 years old and single, you realize from time to time that each day, each moment, is often a tightrope walk between blessed contentment and depression. Well, at least, that’s what it feels for me.
No, I’m not talking romance anymore. Trust me, you eventually get to a point where you just don’t care and stop pining and chasing after that person you really fell for; doesn’t mean you don’t love them anymore, you just learn that falling for someone shouldn’t also mean falling flat on your face. I’m talking survival— like, frantically coughing and hammering my own chest at past 2:00AM because for the second time in my life (I think), I think I just had a mini-cardiac arrest. While I was alone in my room. Without a mobile load. With a crappy wifi signal (but it’s free, so who am I to complain?). Without a health card or insurance. And all I can think of was God, not like this. I mean, seriously: if I died— it would take days before people notice I’m dead. The landlord would probably discover my corpse once the neighbors complain of my rotting smell. So I wrack my memory for some emergency self-administered first-aid, and pray to God it works.
That was some time ago. And lately, I realize I’m subconsciously scared to sleep; thank you, Google, for all those sudden death syndrome articles. Ironically, I know the lack of sleep isn’t helping, either. Continue reading
“Your swings are good,” our dojo’s sensei said, “but where’s your footwork?”
Two months into training, I still find myself frustrated: how can something so basic and simple as a proper stance be so difficult to memorize? I practice in front of the mirror and whenever I can. I get the feel of it. Then training sessions come, and my feet forget what it was supposed to do. Sometimes, I just awkwardly execute the footworks; most of the time, I lose focus and at worst, my balance.
At the end of each sequence, I glance at my feet, adjust them back to their proper places, annoyed. Ugh. I just want to swing my shinai like Kenshin Himura; why do I have to do this boring routine every time?
Even when I was doing Muay Thai, I had the same problem: my strikes were good (I think), my balance was bad. I’d get reprimanded over and over again about it— and for a good reason. No matter how powerful my punches or kicks were, it’s useless if I lose my balance and fall down whenever I move or block a hit. And the same was true with kendo: even though my swings were improving, I still trip on my footwork.
Practice at home, our trainor keeps encouraging us. Practice wherever you can.
I stare at my ugly toes, wriggling them into position. How can something so simple as standing become so complicated? I can’t help but remember that oft-neglected phrase at the beginning of Ephesians 6:14— Stand firm then. Continue reading
Despite being a churchgoer and having been a ministry worker for more than two decades, I have to admit: Forgiveness is not my forte.
How can I be a Christian and have difficulty forgiving people? How can I have the spirit of God yet be unforgiving?
Believe me, I ask myself that. Most of the time. Almost all of the time. Continue reading
Just another rainy day/night poem.
“Crucify him!” The crowd chanted in passionate frenzy. Here they were: united, one nation upholding their belief, crying out against a blasphemer of their faith. This is justice, they thought. We are doing this for righteousness.
“Burn the witches!” The crowd chanted in passionate frenzy. Here they were: united, one community purging an evil in their midst, freeing themselves from the clutches of fear. This is justice, they thought. We are doing this for righteousness.
“Kill the criminals!” “Impeach him!” “He does not deserve to be honoured and buried!” “Why should they be forgiven?!” “She deserved this!”
Everyday, we crucify people: politicians, celebrities, strangers, friends, family. Some of us heckle, some of us shake our fists in rage, some of us smirk condescendingly at their plight. They are wrong, we assure ourselves. We are in the right of things.
And in our unsaid thoughts, we judge: Crucify them.
Something I wrote last night. Not dedicated to anyone in particular…