May 21, 2008

inter-personal enlightenment

Posted in Uncategorized at 1:55 pm by changisme

I often encounter lines in my reading about how God’s in yourself, to find God you should look into yourself, and then you’d see Him. It’s probably a rather New-Age sort of believe, I sway back and forth over its truthfulness.
 
To be frank, I have found God more easily sought if I dig inward. There is much unknown inside oneself that is greatly illuminating. However, is really "easier" the marker of truth seeking? If God is inside me, then God is inside everyone. Really, the logical prospect is to dig into everyone. Being a moderately perceptive person, I do find people reveal themselves quite readily even if not consciously. They generally talk about how they view things extrinsically to themselves, but from what they do and how they behave, I could also see how they view themselves. All these truths shed light on the sculpture of God to me.
 
Nonetheless, it is true that it’s a much more strenuous task to polish out the absorbable understandings from other people. They don’t think the same way as I do, and they don’t always have their blast of sunshine when I’m ready with my camera. There are also just people I have a hard time understanding, though usually this is because I refuse to believe them to have a certain characteristics (don’t want to think of the painful facts…).
 
People look inward quite easily, it is the getting to know other people properly that is difficult to maintain, because… for heaven’s sake, they are so very complex… and conflicted. At times, I just want to escape into my own little world and not worry about it, but it is as if truth and light picks up my chin and says, look at me… then I realize how beautiful it is.
 
There are many other things I am running away from, or refuse to answer. I know there is beauty and complex ones, and yet, I cannot accept it. Slowly, I understand why God says that men cannot stand the sight of Him. Beautiful things breaks me, it breaks me into a million little pieces floating in the mist and reflecting light like rainbows. I can only hope that I am broken just to be reassembled whole again, I can only hope.
 
In any case, I digressed. About seeking truth in others, I hence can’t help but feel cautious towards all the "looking inward" and "seeking internal enlightenment". It makes us all the more individualistic than we already feel. I don’t actually think we are anymore independent than we were hundreds years ago, probably even less so. It’s just somehow we have polished our media of human interaction to a certain degree that we feel we are independent, like instead of using barter, we use credit card, and instead of learning a trade from a grumpy old man down the street, we use e-learning… *rolling eyes*, well really I wonder… maybe we can still get as much enlightenment from our "new ways" if we remind ourselves.. how interdependent we are.
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May 18, 2008

back from camping

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:56 pm by changisme

It’s been two years since I went to Berkenhead Lake for the first time. This year I went with a different group of people, totally different dynamic. One thing that didn’t change was that we still had loads of food that could feed a village. All three days the sun had been so generous that we were engulfed in radiant sunlight and sleep inducing heat. The beach of the lake, though small, gave me sufficient confort to make up for the long and rainy winter.
 
This time around, I do find the trees were different though. It was almost a bit tragic. There are so many more dead tress than before. What was thriving were skunk cabbages highlighting with their yellow bright sprouts. Many trees were rotting and had to be put down. There were some, I’m not sure for what reason, had lots of black holes. They were like exagerated burnt cavities.  I sure hope that it’s not the pine beetles that were contributing to all this. A couple of years ago, the place sure looked a lot more lively, though I think the pest was already a problem then.
 
It was fun to hang out with Plotty, Hannah Luke and CB. The boys were like teenagers, totally made us shrug and smile. They were very eager to do things though, which is much better than lazy guys (or lazy girls like us, enjoying their services. We also did some light hikes. I guess for me, I like not having to concentrate too much on having to challenge myself, but rather to be able to enjoy the nature around me. I felt so confortbale, that I have to say I din’t even mind the mosquitos so much. Or maybe it’s just that the mosquitos didn’t ilke me as much as other people!
 
Aye… I still feel quite disturbed by the amount of dead trees I saw… and the holes…

May 15, 2008

senseless ramble… (it does make sense to me of course)

Posted in Uncategorized at 1:32 pm by changisme

It is so hard. It’s so hard to keep my mind straight in this mess of difficulties, as if trees and flowers are all distorting in clenched fists.
 
Over and over again, I need to remind myself of my family, the scene, the long lasting scene of my grandmother, my aunts and my mother and cousin in one room. It is this that never changes. It is this that I need to put in front of everything. Summer makes the Christmas dinner so easily forgotten, I try so hard to hold on the fading vision. I can only try to remind myself that strong emotions at a time like this is not to compromise the ever lasting. The flow of blood creates something different, beyond my passion, beyond my rationalities. It is the only wild horse I can let lose, it is the lead that gears my life. Probably I should let God does this, but thusfar, the two have yet to contradict. One day, if I do have to choose, it will be a painful one, the most painful in my life. It will be between what I believe is right, and what I BELIEVE is right, which one is which… I do not know.
 
But today, I am holding on, to the origin and river of the blood of my family, what they desire, and what bring them together. Soemday, maybe my blood will flow into another, only then shall my prospect diverge.

May 13, 2008

strange surgery experience

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:32 am by changisme

The surgery went well, but it was a pretty strange experience. I went to the eye care centre early, and there was only a few scattered elderlies waiting to pick up their family members. The nurses, in the abundance, were greatly animated, making the place much more cheerful than than patients were showing. They asked me questions about alll the usual stuff and showed me a rather uninformative video but it was a time killer anyway. Then I followed a teel shirt nurse into the anesthetic room. There were massage chairs and heavy machineryies. I have to say I was reasonable calm, only a tingle of tightness making me vaguely aware of my own breathing. The kind and chatty nurse put drops after drops of colourless solutions into my eye, and I was only grateful that she used the freezing at the very beginning. Such a concoction can probably change a donkey into monkey. Then the surgeon came in, with a little semicircle shaped marker, marked my cornea. I had no idea why he needed to do it then rather than later. He said it’s for his own orientation. I guess anestetics might do something to the direction of the eyeball.
 
then there’s a young anesthetist. He gave me some sedation drugs through IV, and almost immediately, that wee bit tightness in me evaporated, and I became kinda high and chatty. Joking around and grinning. Alcohol doesn’t even do that to me. It was so weird. it was quite obvious even to myself, and the surgeon later had to tell me to stop talking when he tried to stop me from moving. How ironic.
 
The surgery itself was weird too. It was under a microscope, and I could see two lights, but I can’t think why microscopes would need towo lights. It’s either there’s a mirror under the microscope (which is unlikely knowing people use electronic microscope these days), or I’m just so dialated that I was seriously seeing doubles. My eye was completely numb, but I know he was turning and cutting. Since they were rather unpleasant thoughts, I just focused on staring at the light. Plus I was on sedation, which made me liek a pragnent woman… let tomorrow worry about itself!
 
The only time during the procedure I felt uneasy was when they turned on the little sucker vacuum, used to take out unwanted things. The sound reminds me of a dentist’s drill or at least a hygenist’s high pressure water pump. I hate those sore feelings. I don’t quite remember now what the sucking felt like, only that afterwards, with no lens, everything in the world became so small and rather distorted. I wondered if now I sit up would my iris come out. I felt sickenign that I even concieved such a question.
 
Inserting the new lens was a little annoying, because somehow it took a long time and I could feel the pressure. The only think I could hear him saying was "pocket … pocket"…  Surely it can’t be that hard given the pupil was dialated so large. Ineed it was because after he inserted it, I could even see the edge of the lens!! It was very very strange.
 
It took me a long long time to get over the muscle relaxin, even this morning I can fell some numbness and nausea. It’s not fun, especially after I stopped feeling high.
 
These thiings leave people such strong impressions. I recall so many details from surgery as a child, so many details including the pink haired doll I brough, and the kind of headache afterwards. It probably constituted half of my memory as an eight year old, even though it was only two weeks.
 
Oh, one fun thing, the nurse said I looked like a pothead, and I guess it’s good that I don’t need to try doing drugs, because I already know what it’s like to be so high.

May 12, 2008

shared box of chocolate

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:12 am by changisme

If there is one single blessing to me in this world, it is people, people who smile and look at me, people who need me and whom I need. I feel like a knot on a fishing net, pulling through the ancient waters with my arms held on by numerous others. I feel like a droplet in the rainbow; some artist waved his brush and smeared accross the sky and all, all of us flew off in a smooth trajectory, with each of our colours harmonizing to become a celebration of glory. I would not be a human if I were not amongst those who love or even those who hate me. I might still be loved by, would then be, the unknown. Indeed, life is like a box of chocolate, to share. Would you like a piece?

May 9, 2008

helpless

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:57 am by changisme

This world is harsh. I can’t believe how much God allows hardship to befall people. Being spoiled with hardly any affliction in my life, I have no idea how being confronted with fear and anger to a large degree. I don’t know why people have to face these things. I really really don’t know! I want no suffering, I really do. There’s all the crap about it makes you stroner and it makes life what life is supposed to be and so on, but still, I don’t want anyone to suffer. Okay, they can be put in jail or even be executed because they are jerks and killed other people, but someone I love and care, I don’t want them to suffer… it’s selfish and unreasonable? So what? since when was God’s appointment of the afflicted fair and reasonable?
 
I never really know what to do and what to say. I know my friend says that there’s really nothing you can do or say that makes things all alright, but I still do want to… I just want to go and punch the doctor’s nose till he cries for mercy, though I know probably it’s not really his fault; and I want to pick up God by the collar and dive into his bossom at the same time… why do you do these things?
 
I feel very stupid also because I’m  not the one who’s going through these things. Isn’t it very dumb and foolish? Stupid Karen, helpless Karen…

bird calls

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:49 am by changisme

It was very fun going birding. I longed for it and tried to recognize the bird calls for years now, but only this time did I really learnt(though just a little bit) what I wanted to know. The woods was not exacty quiet, in fact it was full of life. Traffic and joggers was one thing, but also all the early rising animals. Squirrels and birds spanned the three dimensional space. Traces of bird poos and holes left behind by woodpeckers florished this piece of haven with coziness. It’s like going to someone’s house and seeing an apron here and a half read book there. A little disturbance of tidiness makes all the best.
 
We heard lots of birds, the chickadees were probably the most active. I felt that they are most keen on echoing each other. There were also lots of kinglets calling, their high pitches make them sounded very cute, thoughI’m curious to knwo if they are actually small, or they are just pretending! There ware also wren, but I wasn’t sure if there were many or just a few, because their songs are so beautifully elaborate that I can’t imagine having two princess in one castle. There was the nuthatches I often hear near my house. Then there were robins but I think they didn’t sing all that much, mostly hopping about on the ground.
 
At the end of our journey, we also saw a large owl perched by a tree trunk, very still and alert. it head rotating to an extraordinary angle without its body moving at all! It also had the darkest and most ghostly eyes, that it makes you feel there’s a witch’s world inside. It was my first time being face to face with an owl. I didn’t know they came out during the day time.
 
I really want to go again, and try to learn more bird calls. Somehow being able to recognize them makes me feel less excluded. it’s silly, and I often thought to myself whether or not you can recognize these things doesn’t really matter, you’re there to enjoy the woods and indeed I did, but languages and names have a power that it’s hard to use language and word to discribe (ironically), it puts a special kinship between me and the named. I guess that’s why Adam was in the Garden alone and naming verything, even though he really didn’t need to do that.

May 7, 2008

debatable language use

Posted in Uncategorized at 8:18 am by changisme

I was corresponding with a friend, and we wound up talking about whether using coloquial language can express as efficiently as "weird" languages… okay I’m not putting it very well here. Basically, I was reading something that I felt the language is not what people would use comfortably. He said that using everyday language is like putting a mask on or puttin gon extra weight, so that when wanting to "cut the bone" of the issue becomes very hard. Whereas usinglanguage that is not commonly used is as if a person is bony and can be caught in the bone very easily.
 
I quite like that analogy, although I’m not quite sure if I agree. At this point, I have to say I really don’t have a conclusive opinion yet. It’s probably true that if I use some expression that I directly relate to my "normal" day to day life, I would end up pooling some of my irrelavent experiences with the point the author is trying to make. Inevitably, I would even have preconceptions of what the person is like. However, is that necessarily a bad thing… If a story is a one way communication, maybe it would be better if I were a sheet of paper, but if it’s a two way communication… meaning my response to the characters and plots also effect changes in mothering the child, then… maybe I shoudl have preconceptions.
 
Then he talked about poetry, saying that poetry is effective, because it strips away what I have wrapping around my understanding of the world, namely my "fat" around my language. That’s just like what I was recently reading about the language producing abstract thinking, by Oliver Sacks (though I don’t really think his evidence is all that clear, but that’s for another thread). My understanding of the world is shaped by my language, and I wonder if stripping away the coloquialism… is more effective or less so. It’s quite hard to compare, because for example, I was quite touched by the play we were discussing, but I can’t quite tell if it’s the language or the character discription or both. I wondered what effect it would give me if the story were set in a different context, one that I maybe more familiar with.
 
Okay… this post, is quite confusing, but it’s because I’m actually pretty confused now…

May 1, 2008

pain in books…

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:09 pm by changisme

I was talking to a friend about reading and about physical pain or even mental pain in these stories. It’s very hard to reconcile what to think about it. On the one hand, I’m somewhat disturbed that people, probably including me, has a certain desire to read about pains and sufferings that are out of the norm. Lashes of red and fainting weaknesses somehow feeds a very fundamental addiction in the groaning gray cells in our heads. I recall having more of such addiction as a young child. Though there was little reading materials that elaborated on torture, I made up stories for myself about how my protagonists were rediculed, beaten, abandoned.
 
these raw desires seemed to have faded away as I grew older. I don’t know if it’s I was educated to dislike violence or due to better reasons. When I think of some very well received young adult books, such as those by VC Andrews or HOLES. I am quite disgusted in a way that… they torture their characters beyond imagination. Christopher and her sister and the twins being cooped up in the attic for years and years by their own mother, all they could do was to swallow their tears and live on; Zero and Stanley enduring the cruelty of adults pickled by metalic hearts and fingers. I don’t really think about impact on the reader, it’s just… when I read them, I really really hate the author for doing those things to the boys and girls. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but finishing those stories. Then there’s some very painful erotica. People like them, even girls liek them. All the whips and chains. I really find it hard not to cringe, though I can sort of relate.
 
Why are people like that? I don’t know if young people desire these pains more or adults also do, because I have never been able to peer into the well masked adult psychy… not my own in any rate.