A Guilt Trip

Something happened during my Quiet Time today.

My spirit broke. Well, just like it did yesterday and the day before. But today, while my heart sang with joy as my lips uttered the words of Brian Littrell, my mind flirted with the gratification of a - wait for it - cigarette.

And just like that, I found myself feuding with myself. Yes or no. Toss or turn. Flip or flop. Heaven or hell. By the time I finally found my next breath, I realised what I was struggling with: Christian guilt. Yet, I asked - almost reflexively - if I had fabricated my own absolution by blaming the wretched curse of dogma.

Even that uncertainty rose from years of fear-mongering.

[Saint Augustine of Hippo] insists that through an act of will, Adam and Eve [changed] the structure of the universe; that their single, willful act permanently corrupted human nature as well as nature in general. Once harmonious, perfect, and free, now, through Adam's choice, is ravaged by mortality and desire, while all suffering, from crop failure, miscarriage, fever, and insanity to paralysis and cancer, is evidence of the moral and spiritual deterioration that Eve and Adam introduced.
Elaine Pagels, Adam, Eve, and the Serpent: Sex and Politics in Early Christianity (1989)

If evangelical Christianity is not bondage, then what is?

From Dawn To Dusk

09:16: Dewdrops on my morning smile.


09:29: While he was sleeping.


12:44: Lunch, served with a view of the Andaman Sea.










14:28: Shades of a day in the sun.








21:31: Catch of the day: Cruising away from the everyday.

From Dawn To Dusk

11:56: No extra baggage.


13:05: Delight, as clear as day.


14:26: The early passenger catches the long wait.


15:22: Flying colours.


16:55: Langkawi boleh.


17:23: Returning to the rustic.


17:36: A sip of serenity.


18:18: Slow and steady wins the rest.


19:11: Strolling with Mother Nature, trailing behind Father Time.






20:11: Feast at Feast.


20:48: Room for dessert.


00:11: Soaked to the skin in peace.


01:15: Sweet dreams.

We Knew Today Would Come

As my past lives crash into parallel universes with dramatic, existential fanfare, I watch the threads unravel with staggering disbelief and sage-like amusement. This must be how it feels like to be at two places at the same time; to be who I am but dispossessed of who I was.

I find myself here, where our story ends with a bended knee, a prize on an ancient Egyptian myth and an eternal promise. And before I could even chase after the rug that was pulled from under my feet, I threw my right foot before its left twin in defenseless instinct. Simply because in my head – the place that also holds my heart now – little has changed: Your happiness still precedes mine.

I will always run my finger along that sliver of skin on my chest and think of it as Love's battle scar as well as its badge of honour; a graze that I have come to accept with grace.

This is my epilogue. Now, write your beautiful prologue.

From Dawn To Dusk

11:24: Wasting a good day indoors.


13:21: A 5-hour meeting 20km apart.


18:16: A wardrobe full of nothing to wear.


21:05: In times of stress, play.

From Dawn To Dusk

13:15: A stream of light and consciousness.


16:51: Retail therapy after therapy.


19:14: The writing on the wall says "dinner".


21:25: Feeding my Introbar addiction.


00:31: A home away from home.

Jesus Wants The Rose

From Dusk To Dawn

08:34: Waking up on the right side of the bed.


09:05: A sartorial 5BX.


09:09: Prompt replies: Part of a positive professional brand image.


10:12: In case of emergency, administer cognitive behavioural therapy.


11:09: Psyched about therapy.


14:14: Out of the rain.


19:30: 900 calories I am happy to have.


20:16: Back to the grind.


22:18: All I want to do.


04:03: What keeps me going.

Before & After

Knowledge

When the intellectual universe alters, in other words, I don't feel arrogant enough to exempt myself from self-criticism. And I am content to think that some contradictions will remain contradictory, some problems will never be resolved by the mammalian equipment of the human cerebral cortex, and some things are indefinitely unknowable . . .

. . . And yet - the believers still claim to know! Not just to know, but to know everything. Not just to know that god exists, and that he created and supervised the whole enterprise, but also to know what "he" demands of us - from our diet to our observances to our sexual morality. In other words, in a vast and complicated discussion where we know more and more about less and less, yet can still hope for some enlightenment as we proceed, one faction - itself composed of mutually warring factions - has the sheer arrogance to tell us that we already have all the essential information we need. Such stupidity, combined with such pride, should be enough on its own to exclude "belief" from the debate. The person who is certain, and who claims divine warrant for his certainty, belongs now to the infancy of our species.
Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (2007)

To quote Socrates, "I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance." But with curiousity, humility and freedom from the biases of religion, I hope to grow in knowledge and anti-knowledge; and learn to live with (but not ignore), amongst others, the anthromophism of God. And perhaps, one day, I will love without judgement, question or reproach.

Midnight Merry

Wahjong

Strange how I would consider this blog fodder (and with more than a tinge of embarrassment, my first achievement in 2009) but hey, I take what I can get: A whooping victory with 11 台s on Viwawa!

Alpha & Omega

Aloysius Lilius may have won himself immortality in yesterday’s memoirs but the Gregorian calendar remains a treacherous contrivance propagating romanticised illusions of beginnings and endings; staking false claim on the linearity of time's eternity.

What is a day, a week, a month, a year?

***
2008.

The year of decadence without debauchery, convenience without compromise, wonder without deceit and life without lies. The year I relished beauty's raw simplicity, like the magnum opus of a dusk sky. The year I accidentally stumbled upon the grimy streets of a Bangkok heartland and found joyful emancipation from the trenches of the should-be, could-be and would-be. The year when even the brown vineyards of Barossa Valley, devoid of summer sunshine in the winter grey, could not steal the glow from my smile. The year you held my hand as we retraced your antiquity with Acland, Bourke and Collins. The year our souls gave, shared and melted into each other over and over again. The year I waited for the moment which would uncover my deepest, darkest suspicions but in its place, an unprecedented pat on the back, heartfelt gratification and unrivalled satisfaction. The year of butterflies in my stomach, cheeks scorched by tears and the ruthless drive to achieve and over-achieve. The year I wrestled demons of hopelessness and helplessness. The year I wallowed in the anguished and the macabre. The year I toyed with mortality with frightful abandon, spat in its callous face and knelt at its feet. The year I courted new worlds and was courted by new opportunities. The year I was wanted and never left wanting. The year I was ignorant and intelligent, curious and confused, living and learning. The year I grew wiser and wearier. The year I grew older but younger.

2008 is the year of many first-s, second-s and perhaps, last-s. But of the many chapters it reads in my story, it is simply one reality: It is the year my cup runneth over.

***
On the cusp of 2004, ahead was all I had. And now, just a mere minute away from 2009, I stand on the same ground I groveled on.

I will not beg 2009 to make me gasp, bring it on or hit me with its best shot. Instead, I ask for fear, for it is only in fear's paralysis that I will find something to lose and something worth fighting for. In demented hysteria, I will find peaceful understanding; in crushing discomfort, I will find quiet acceptance; in vulnerable cowardice, I will find the conviction of compelling optimism and in lingering defeatism, I will find my next step.

After all, life does not end with a panic disorder. Life begins with it.

So what is a day, a week, a month, a year?

Happy New Life, me.

Blessed Christmas!