asiatism

Dance Dance Dance

2011-02-25T18:18:00.002+08:00

The passage that made me fall in love with his works.

Excerpt from Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami

I often dream about the Dolphin Hotel. In these dreams, I'm there,
implicated in some kind of ongoing circumstance. All indications
are that I belong to this dream continuity.

The Dolphin Hotel is distorted, much too narrow. It seems more
like a long, covered bridge. A bridge stretching endlessly through
time. And there I am, in the middle of it. Someone else is there too,
crying.

The hotel envelops me. I can feel its pulse, its heat. In dreams, I
am part of the hotel.

I wake up, but where? I don't just think this, I actually voice the
question to myself: «Where am I?» As if I didn't know: I'm here. In
my life. A feature of the world that is my existence. Not that I particularly
recall ever having approved these matters, this condition,
this state of affairs in which I feature. There might be a woman
sleeping next to me. More often, I'm alone. Just me and the expressway
that runs right next to my apartment and, bedside, a glass
(five millimeters of whiskey still in it) and the malicious — no, make
that indifferent—dusty morning light. Sometimes it's raining. If it is,
I'll just stay in bed. And if there's whiskey still left in the glass, I'll
drink it. And I'll look at the raindrops dripping from the eaves, and
I'll think about the Dolphin Hotel. Maybe I'll stretch, nice and slow.
Enough for me to be sure I'm myself and not part of something else.
Yet I'll remember the feel of the dream. So much that I swear I can
reach out and touch it, and the whole of that something that includes
me will move. If I strain my ears, I can hear the slow, cautious
sequence of play take place, like droplets in an intricate water
puzzle falling, step upon step, one after the other. I listen carefully.
That's when I hear someone softly, almost imperceptibly, weeping.
A sobbing from somewhere in the darkness. Someone is crying for
me.

Why I like Murakami

2011-02-25T17:12:00.004+08:00

A COLLEAGUE AT WORK asked me why I liked reading Murakami.

I was poring over A Wild Sheep Chase - happily, the last book by Japanese author Haruki Murakami which I have not read.

His ability to see through contemporary, day-to-day events, crystallising the abject loneliness of individuals, I said.

His characters have a precious interiority, which I love the most about a writer. I find interiority hard to achieve in a character, without sounding self-centred and indulgent, or even plodding.

They border on the surreal and fantastical - yet he's melded that with the real, everyday dogfest of life.

I disovered Murakami late in life. It was in the university classroom during Poetry, when the lecturer yanked out a passage from Dance Dance Dance. It's easily my favourite of his works - hard to say whether it's because it's the best, or because it's a sentimental bridge to My First Murakami Encounter.

Even later in life - just right now - I discovered that Dance Dance Dance is the sequel to Wild Sheep Chase. In the same way that Murakami's writing is off-kilter and yet straight-to-the-nose, I guess I got it the right way wrong.

There is this heady straightness to everything, in his writing. This optimistic hopelessness that endears.

Reading Murakami is like reading the Book of Ecclesiastes.

There is nothing new under the sun; whatever we're doing now has been done before. But we do it anyway. We eat, sleep, shit, work, go home, and do it all over again the next day.

Why?

What are we looking for?

******************

I really like Kinokuniya. It's been a long time.

H. and I paid the bookstore a visit yesterday. It was a wonderful, deliciously slow day. We took a day off to have brunch, chat, browse through books, have tea with J., buy a belt.

The atmosphere at Kinokuniya is different from Borders. I like the white clarity of space, the book ladders, and the smell of Kinokuniya. The books give off a chocolatey warmth that's comforting.

So I bought Wild Sheep Chase, a cookbook by Jamie Oliver: Ministry of Food, and a two-year membership to Kinokuniya.

Silencing the Enemy

2010-04-04T19:08:00.000+08:00

(an extract from - Silencing The Enemy by Robert Gay)

From the lips of children and infants

you have ordained praise

because of your enemies,

to silence the foe and the avenger

Psalm 8:2 (NIV)

Have you ever wondered why God commands and desires our praise? Is it because He has as ego problem? Is He insecure? Does He need our praise? The answer to all these questions is emphatically NO. God does not need our praise. Scripture records that there are creatures in heaven that do nothing but worship Him day and night (Revelation 4:8)

Why then has God ordained our praise? Psalm 8:2 gives us the answer: "because of our enemies." Some people feel they have done the Lord a great service if they spend thirty minutes worshiping Him. The fact is we do not do Him a favour; we do ourselves a favour and the devil great damage. God has not ordained praise because He needs it, but because we need to praise Him.

Ezekiel refers to Lucifer as "the anointed cherub" (Eziekiel 28:13-14). Lucifer was called to lead all of heaven in worship to the most high God ... but he fell because of PRIDE (Isaiah 14:12-15). Because of a prideful heart, Satan fell from heaven, lost his heavenly anointing and was cast to the earth. (Ezekiel 28:16-18).

The wonderful thing God did was to take what Satan was originally anointed to do and allow us, the body of Christ, to use it as a weapon of warfare to destroy the enemy's plans. Psalm 8:2 says that God has ordained praise because of our enemy, to silence the avenger. The word silence is the Hebrew word "shabath" which means "to cause to fail, to repose, suffer to be lacking, to put down, take away."

As we praise the Lord, we cause the enemy to fail. As we lift our voices to God, we defeat the power of Satan that would bring us into bondage. As we enter into worship, we begin to take back what the enemy has stolen from us.

When you understand this, spiritual warfare is no longer drudgery. That's why Paul could say, "Fight the good fight of faith" (1 Timothy 6:12). It is a good fight when you know your enemy is fleeing in terror. We are not running from our enemy; instead we have him on the run. we are not in a defensive position waiting for him to attack. Rather we take the offensive and go after his kingdom aggressively. We are God's commandoes who go in behind the lines recuing those that are held captive. We use spiritual weapons of war to blow up his communications facilities and destroy his method of operation.

Paul said that "the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of stronghold" (2 Corinthians 10:9). Praise and worship play an important role in all this because God has ordained our praise to silence him. It is time for the church to arise in this hour and praise the Lord with all it's might. We must become uninhibited in our praise, even as children are (Psalm 8:2 says - "out of the mouth of babes"). Then our weapon of warfare - PRAISE - will be unleashed on the powers of darkness and result in their demise and destruction.

Curiouser and curiouser

2010-03-08T17:05:00.001+08:00

Johnny Depp was magnificent in Alice in Wonderland, as usual. A treat to watch, in 3D.

As expected, a Goth treatment of this Lewis Caroll classic. Updated, ironically, in the form of a modern sequel with flashbacks. Tim Burton has a tragi-comic goth eye for everything.

Expect nuances of Edward Scissorshand to come through Depp's performance. Deliciously dark and insanely sober, he is, as the Mad Hatter.

Incidently, Simon mentioned that there is such a thing a mad hatter. They discovered that hatters of the past went mad after breathing in the toxic fumes of mercury found in the lining of hats.

Off with his head!

- Posted from my iPhone

The Inner Source - a Henri Nouwen Lecture

2009-04-06T14:04:00.004+08:00

Lecture 3, 1 December 2001
by Anselm Grün, Germany

Excerpt from THE SPIRITUAL PATH AS PATH TO HEALING

"Many people nowadays complain about stress, burnout and exhaustion. For me stress is always a spiritual problem. We try and manage by using our own strength. Prayer is the path to the inner spring. Inside us the spring of the Holy Spirit flows over. If I am in contact with this spring, if I work from within it, I can perform many tasks without getting exhausted. My internal spring is eternal, because it is spiritual.

"Many people are exhausted because they have a harmful lifestyle. They work with the motto: "Hopefully I do everything well. Hopefully I don't make any mistakes. Hopefully we won't get into conflict". With such life patterns we are soon out of breath and burned out. According to Evagrius Ponticus prayer leads us to the inner place of contemplation and peace. Evagrius calls this place "God's place" because God himself lives there, and "Jerusalem", because it is a place of peace. The mystic tells us that there is already a place in us where there is complete peace, where God is already in us. But we are separated from this quiet place, separated by the internal and external noise of our worries and problems which lie like a thick layer of concrete between our heart and this internal place of peace and quiet.

"Prayer penetrates this concrete layer and enters this internal place. In this place where God lives, other people don't have entry and we are not touched by opinions and condemnation, neither by desires and expectations, rejection and hurt. There we are whole and complete. In spite of our fears, we may experience that in our inner self we are whole and complete. That experience is indestructible. The pain only touches our emotions, but not our true identity, not the inner reflection God has formed of us.

"Prayer is the way to the inner place of wellbeing. In the Eastern church especially, the Jesus prayer is the path to the depth of the heart where Christ himself lives. It is a place of gentleness and compassion, of love and freedom. Our own guilt has no entry. In this place we are blameless and pure, without sin. On December 8 the church tells us this in our celebrations of Mary of Immaculate Conception, who is an example for us through Jesus Christ who delivered us."

Fireproofing?

2009-04-06T13:41:00.003+08:00

I watched Fireproof some time ago. The film detailed the Christian - and natural - struggles of human relationships. Between husband and wife, child and parent, and between friends too.

How do we 'fireproof' our relationships in a Godly manner?

A friend posted on Facebook this note:

The most-intimate relationship is marriage between a husband and a wife.
Unfortunately, relationships today are under more cultural and interpersonal pressure and stress than ever before in our history. But it doesnít have to be that way. Together, we can make a long-term difference for healthy relationships and marriages Ö starting with yours!
What can you do to make a difference?
http://www.fireproofmymarriage.com/

If people actually knew the amount of sacrifice and humility needed to make marriage work - and how much we need to make God the centre of it, not ourselves - we might not be so quick to jump into one.

The allure of loving someone and being loved is sometimes to great for us to see that a relationship - and marriage - is given to us by God to reveal who we truly are, and how we continually lay down ourselves and let God increase.

But God is gentle and loving. It will be what we can bear.

So, sometimes before we can be fireproofed, we need to let the fire come and rarefy everything. What's left of the cinders - something refined, something pure, and something simple that God can use.

So, I see, that's what it means to say, 'God, here I am. Take all of me.'

It actually means all. And wow, the best is yet to come, cos His blessings will come in a torrent, once we're ready to receive it, with our empty hands.

Unclench your fists, and let go of what your eyes can see. Open your hands, and see that, no matter what you add to them, they will ultimately be empty.

Thank you, God, for your everlasting love.

Real art

2009-04-06T13:40:00.000+08:00

“The real art of conversation is not only to say the right things at the right time but to leave the wrong things unsaid at the tempting moment.”

World Builder

2009-03-23T23:51:00.002+08:00

World Builder from Bruce Branit on Vimeo.

A strange man builds a world using holographic tools for the woman he loves.
This award winning short was created by filmmaker Bruce Branit, widely known as the co-creator of '405'. World Builder was shot in a single day followed by about 2 years of post production. Branit is the owner of Branit VFX based in Kansas City.
More info, background and info on future releases can be at facebook.com/pages/World-Builder/73936485659 Become a fan and keep in touch.

Join my 'gang' and turn around

2009-03-20T18:48:00.004+08:00

It's not the end when you make a mistake. Check out what Glenn and his 'gang' have to say after spending time behind bars, in this video on youths at risk.

God is in control.

Lomo makes cents... and dollars

2009-03-20T18:11:00.018+08:00

Yeah we know it - it's possible to start up an online shop and earn some spare cash. Especially now, when times are spiralling downwards.

But what does it involve? Easy, but how easy? We need to know the nuts and bolts!

So we did a show on beating the economic blues by setting up online stores on Point Blank . A lomography shop, a lifestyle shop, a jewellery shop, and of course... fashion!

I've got a new-found interest in lomography - simply put, using plasticky film cameras and cross-processed slide films to get wacky, super-saturated and surreal photos, complete with light leaks and all.

Judging from my super-long previous sentence, you can probably tell I like lomo quite a bit :)

I just got my Blackbird, Fly!! It looks like this:

You can find out more about what lomo is on Point Blank: DIY online store

Love it!

Do you have a hobby viable enough to turn into a business, you think???

I could try whistling.

Weather you will change or not

2009-02-25T01:23:00.004+08:00

is anybody's guess. Change, they say, is the only constant.

The weather has been slightly wacky. I know, this is Singapore, but still.

Am I chatting about the weather? Yep, I am.

I fell ill yesterday. Actually, since Mon night. The weather went round a sharp bend. From a hot, humid, smoggy grey to a cold, humid, soggy grey. I could hear my air con unit last week creaking from working doubly hard to combat the heat.

So I went under, with flu. It's a strange kind of flu, I must say. I've been riddled with this strange flu for, like, the third time?

It starts off with a sore throat. Right there, at the back of the nasal cavity where it meets the back of the throat. Then it starts hurting worse and worse. It feels like someone's been scraping my throat with a metal plate. A pounding headache follows. Soon it feels like my brain has swollen (not in the good way) and is about to implode. Throb, throb. No fever - not for the last two flus I had. Strange. I blow my nose, and feel hot stuff coming from the back of my throat. I see a bit of blood.

For the day, I can't think, my mind is focused on the pain. Then I tell myself, write a script. And I write a script. I tell myself, crack a few jokes, and I crack a few jokes. I tell myself, play the keyboard and sing, and I play a keyboard and sing. And so on.

Still, I did enjoy myself at the party on Tues night. I sang, I laughed, and forgot about pain for the night. My colleagues were a ball. So I got consolation prize for my song and dance, but, it was kinda fun. Free cash, too. Took a bit of work. It was even more fun catching up with my friends from work, in a quiet corner. That, for me, is the most meaningful part of the night.

But oh boy, the next morning. I went under with a crash.

So I slept most of today away. And wondered for a little while how fragile our bodies are. The human body is held together by tissue, sinew, and fluids. It's a miracle how organs, things, fall into place. Like how our lungs continue to expand and contract even when we're sleeping. God is an amazing engineer.

It's also amazing how our bodies respond to the environment. A slight tweak in the environment could be disastrous.

So I thought about climate change and global warming. I'm no tree hugger, but the situation is dire.

The world is in a precarious place, no matter how safe it seems right now.

It went from hot to rainy, and I came down with the flu. Maybe it's just me, a bit weak at the edges recently. But weather you like it or not, climate change is a matter of life and death.

End-times are near. God have mercy on us all.

Red-hot, I am shot

2009-01-29T17:14:00.002+08:00

“Financial” has a married-with-kids rhyme with the words “turmoil”, “crisis”, “crunch” and other painful terms these days. I know, it doesn’t even rhyme. But what seems forced a few months ago appears easy as a Hawaiian breeze these days.

This uncomfortable breeze has fluttered its way to Asia, in the art corner of things.

In Reuter’s recent article (see below) , the ‘red-hot’ Chinese contemporary art markets seems to have cooled off somewhat, as bidders are shuddering from sub-zero temperatures rendered by the economic crisis.

Global financial turmoil was fingered the culprit for Sotheby’s poor showing at Hong Kong’s marquee autumn sale of Asian contemporary artwork. Shame-faced and in hiding, Financial Crisis nodded to its distant cousin – the Excess of Identity in Late-Stage Capitalism.

Proud representative of one of Asia’s rising identity incursions into the new world (order), perhaps all the attention on Chinese contemporary art has sort of made it out to be more ballooned up than it was intended to be.

Kind of like a shy child given too much exam stress. Buckles under pressure.

No longer a dumb comrade, Chinese contemporary art has taken on the veneer of East-meets-West, I-don’t-care-what-identity-you-canvas-cos-I-have-my-hybrid-own sensibility.

Yes, I have a voice. But what happens what late-stage capitalism catches up with art?

It has a price tag, its highs and lows, its place in the market. What happens after it’s dropped off unceremoniously from the good books of Big Brother?

People have short attention spans. Public memory is kind of taxed. Late-stage capitalism favours the excessive.

Put a price tag to art, you have an auction buyers and sellers.

Slap a price tag on identity, you get more than you bargained for. Too much. An excess of identity – bursting-at-the-seams identity, you don’t know what the price is any more.

It’s like a grotesque Frankenstein mish-mashing various nightmares into one ghoulish body.

Rather like that anime Paprika I saw recently, where people venture into each other’s – and eventual the general public’s – dreams. There was this festive parade of nightmare-bodies thrown together, and the moving mound of pulsating lives pushed on as it swallowed even more poeple-in-dreams.

What troubled me was this – these dreams eventually ate into (and ate up) reality.

Kind of like marrying a neo-Asian identity with consumer culture.

(Written in 'Writing for Online' course @ Amara)

–

FROM REUTERS LAST OCTOBER:

HONG KONG (Reuters) - Global financial turmoil has caught up with the red-hot Chinese contemporary art market as bidders failed to buy top-flight paintings at a major Sotheby’s auction in Hong Kong on Saturday.

For the past few years, auction rooms in London, New York and Hong Kong have crackled with fierce interest in Chinese contemporary paintings as prices broke record after record.

But in Sotheby’s marquee autumn sale of Asian contemporary artwork, a key twice-yearly barometer of market sentiment among the world’s top collectors, 19 of 47 prominent works went unsold and others barely hit low estimates.

"The results weren’t at all ideal, and prices of contemporary Chinese art seem to have reached a peak now," Jackson See, a Singaporean buyer, told Reuters in the packed auction hall.

"It is showing signs of a real correction," he added.

Works by feted artists Zhang Xiaogang, Yue Minjun, Liu Wei, Liao Jichun and Zeng Fanzhi failed to sell with Zeng’s "After the Long March Andy Warhol arrived in China," for instance, attracting bids far short of its HK$20 million reserve price.

Sotheby’s said that after 5 years of "unprecedented growth" the poor showing was to be expected.

"It is not surprising that there will be some leveling off, which is what we also experienced this evening, in addition to some estimates which were overly optimistic," said Evelyn Lin, the Head of Sotheby’s Contemporary Asian Art department.

Test

2009-01-29T16:31:00.000+08:00

My very first mobile blog entry. Hello world, on wheels!

Sent from my Nokia phone

A novelist is different

2008-10-24T19:20:00.005+08:00

from a journalist.

I just read a blog entry of an old friend on Facebook. Cyberspace is kind of strange, the way it shrinks the space between people and make them feel closer to each other than they really are. Or the truth could be that it makes them realise that they are closer to each other than they appear.

The entry talked about observing an old uncle with a paper bag trying to cross the road. He was mumbling and singing softly to himself, but failed repeatedly to cross that bustling road.

A helpless look on his face. Strange looks from all around, those who gathered at the bus stop waiting for each of their rides.

Was he singing a Hokkien song, or some inconceivable dialect?

No one really knows.

Some at the bus stop thought, perhaps he's quite mad. Not my friend. The old man continued to hum to himself, a secret song. And my friend thought secret thoughts. "I wish you happiness, singing-uncle-by-the-bus-stop."

A novelist writes. And so does a journalist. Both observe the common life, and also the very uncommon.

A journalist, seeing such an old man, will think: Why what when where how? Is there a news peg? Is there a story? What's my lead?

But a novelist. Ah. Sure, he thinks, is there a story?

But he is also a quiet observer, drinking in the people seen, the sounds heard. For in them, the secrets of life lie.

The novelist, upon seeing the old man with two paper bags, will think - and write - that it just is.

Yep it just is.

God save the Queen

2008-10-16T15:45:00.009+08:00

In light of the US subprime crisis and other infectious financial diseases, this letter is highly timely. And very funny.

Read on.

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.
(You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy).
Your new Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,''favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ''like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.'

3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist,then you're not ready to shoot grouse.

5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.

8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys.Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialogue in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

11. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

13. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.
God Save the Queen!

PS: Only share this with friends who have a good sense of humour (NOT humor)!

How can one boy

2008-08-16T18:48:00.004+08:00

have so much anger in him?

It has to come from somewhere, hidden in time.

So much hatred and poison spewing forth. He must be hurting very much inside.

He's so young, so very young. Everything seems hunky-dory on the outside. He's all smiley, mild-mannered, even pleasant to everyone.

Somewhere else in his mind, at the same time, he's wishing death to the people he hates.

This is the youth of today.

This is him, crying out for help, but at the same time making sure you don't get to come close enough to do so.

It's 'please help me, but stay the eff away'.

How, God, do we do this? There's only You.

One day down to

2008-08-06T22:16:00.000+08:00

Razor TV.

We're launching on 08/08/08!!!

National Haha

2008-08-04T16:30:00.001+08:00

Since National Day is on its way, here's Dick Lee's 'freak song' concert.

Applause, please, for Count on HIM, Singapore.

Another story

2008-08-02T02:01:00.012+08:00

from the same night.

It wasn't told during the Festival of Praise, no.

But Hillsong did a few songs from their new album This is our God.

Simon bought the album (CD+DVD) a few days ago, but I didn't get a chance to see it nor the DVD features.

But tonight, after I came home from FOP, I started looking up stuff from the album. And I unearthed Mike Guglielmucci's story.

From an excerpt on the web:

Mike has touched thousands upon thousands of lives with his passion for God and love for mankind.
In Oct 2006 Mike was diagnosed with a blood disease, later the diagnosis was changed to cancer.
Mike is at this point of time quite sick, spending time in Sydney in hospital.
Mike believes strongly that God will heal him, and is remaining strong, still using every opportinity to share Gods love to those around him.

Mike wrote the song Healer, featured in Hillsong's new album. Here is the video testimony by Mike and the Hillsong team. It's a powerful song of faith.

Watch the worship session live here.

When pain wracks your body and cancer eats away at your bones, and you still say 'it is well with me soul' - that's security in knowing who God is. Because He's more than enough.

Healer

You're my Healer

You hold my every moment

You calm my raging seas

You walk with me through fire

And heal all my disease

I trust in You

I believe You're my Healer

I believe You are all I need

I believe You're my Portion

I believe You're more than enough for me

Jesus You're all I need

My Healer, You're my Healer

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands

I went to the Festival

2008-08-02T01:33:00.004+08:00

of Praise this evening.

It's good to see Hillsong reinventing itself with new sounds, and to see such young, gifted people writing and jamming praise songs from Parachute band. Omega Levine has quite a story to tell.

So he was born with his finger stuck to his nose bridge - thus he was born without a nose. Many painful memories and major operations later, his nose was reconstructed.

But the damage of childhood rejection and the pain of difference, and the 'why have you done this to me, God?', coupled with a seething hate for God and everyone around him, Omega almost ended his life.

Until the Maker of heaven and earth spoke.

'I love you,' He said.

That was how He created heaven and earth, I suppose. 'I love you' was what He meant.

I've founded a new 'production company'

2008-07-31T16:24:00.016+08:00

called Northern Lights Dreamfactory.

So to speak. It's home-made stuff done on my little lappie, but it's fun and rewarding.

Just finished the video of our Nepal mission trip, with the help of my little macbook and Pam's camcorder. Listening to the voices of the missionaries and letting them speak for themselves is one of the key strengths of the media.

Camerawork's not very good and quite shaky, cos extreme zoom-ins require tripod and a heavier camera. But we use what we have. Shaky can be an edgy, MTV style, yeah? :)

Anyways, now working on the audio and video transitions and the soundtrack. Flow's not there yet, but ahoy it's on its way!

So I was thinking of a name for the end credits.

What are northern lights?

According to wikipedia:

Auroras (North/South Polar Lights; or aurorae, sing.: aurora) are natural colored light displays in the sky, usually observed at night, particularly in the polar zone. They typically occur in the ionosphere. Some scientists^[who?] call them "polar auroras". In northern latitudes, the effect is known as the aurora borealis, named after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora, and the Greek name for north wind, Boreas. It often appears as a greenish glow or sometimes a faint red, as if the sun was rising from an unusual direction. The aurora borealis is also called the northern polar lights, as it is only visible in the North sky from the Northern Hemisphere. The aurora borealis most often occurs from September to October and from March to April. The Cree call this phenomenon the Dance of the Spirits.

Its southern counterpart, the aurora australis/southern polar lights, has similar properties. Australis is the Latin word for "of the South".

Benjamin Franklin first brought attention to the "mystery of the Northern Lights." He theorized the shifting lights to a concentration of electrical charges in the polar regions intensified by the snow and other moisture.

Light of the north, dance of the spirit. Mysteriously beautiful, glowing and encompassing. Wow. I knew I had to use this name for our church's video productions.

Here's to more!!! Anyone care to join me?

A million thoughts running

2008-07-27T15:55:00.004+08:00

through my head at once.

But which one is it I commit to paper? Ink to parchment. Or rather, font to digital memory.

It's all about choices.

What, when, how you speak.

Like Lucky's unstoppable stream of consciousness in Beckett's Waiting for Godot, the insufferable multitude of 'think' ensuing from him lays bare the human predicament.

Beckett's tragicomic absurdist play was my lit text in JC. The fullness of its meaning didn't fall on me then.

We're indeed waiting for Godot, or God, but meanwhile the spaces are filled with the monotony of thoughts translated into insomany words.

I think postmodernism is just a generation trying to cope with technological advancement, heightened education and literacy, 'freedom' of thought, and other ideological freedoms. Since there are too many freedoms to choose from, pluralism is the keyword of the day.

Keyword being highly associated with the newly-founded verb of 'googling'. No longer just a noun. 'Let's google the meaning of the word "metanarrative".'

But no, 'little narratives' (Lyotard) are the soup of the day, so let's tell your/his/her/my story, our way.

And definitely, if you hold on to any monolithic, absolute truth(s), you're in hot soup if you're in postmodern company.

See, one thought leads to another, and another to another's other.

Just please, let there be an absolute something or Someone, or somebody else could get hurt ingesting too much or too little Prozac.

What maketh man is his very, very fine mind; yet it is also his undoing.

That's the way the cookie crumbles.

Brilliant sunsets are

2008-07-25T15:58:00.004+08:00

God's way of showcasing simple, glorious beauty.

Why?

Because it happens every day without fail. Yet it lights up the entire land with its fierce, captivating fire every day, as if it was the last every time.

I saw this, in the hyperordinary act of walking out of my office. One of my rare early clock-outs, of course.

The burning watercolour of red, orange, yellow ebbs as the light scorches the horizon. It almost burns your retinas just looking at it, but not quite.

But enough to burn something deep in your heart.

That if God could create a new sunset every day's end, and a new sunrise every morning, what couldn't He do?

Everything may be in a one lumpy mess, all gooey and grey and black and hideous. Hate, deceit, anger, disappointment, all that leaving and quitting and giant mountains that you must climb; and fall, dust off your bleedin' knees, and climb again - the sun rises, and the sun sets.

And everything, new the next morning.

No, your problems don't go away. Just like cancer, Aids, and bad governments don't go away. But yet, the morning is new.

So is the enduring love of God. New, every morning.

He will see YMM through anything, because the church is His, the Church is Him.

Even if I'm unsure of anything else, of that I'm certain.

I don't need a conduit

2008-05-30T02:04:00.009+08:00

to God.

That was all done with when the veil to the Holy of Holies tore into half, all the way down the centre of the temple. And when Christ said 'It is finished.' It certainly was finished, completed, dust-both-hands done.

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.

At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. - Matthew 27:50-1

Now I can approach God myself. Or rather, it is Him who approaches me.

So, beware of people who claim to be conduits to God. Only Christ is the Way... and even then, it's not quite the same as being a conduit, because Christ is also God. But he is the Way to the Father, that's certain.

Beware of those who don't claim to be conduits, but simply act like so.

Because we can listen to God, we can have a direct line to God ourselves.

It amazes me that even when I don't have time for Him sometimes to listen to what He has to say. I'm so occupied by thoughts, work, miscellaneous trivialities.

But the moment I drop them - the moment I turn away from them and look towards Him, He speaks. At the drop of the hat. That's how much I'm loved. I'm forgiven for forgetting, and He just speaks.

He can't wait to speak to His children. We just have to listen.

God, you're so faithful, merciful, and infinite in your love. I don't understand. But sometimes I catch glimpses of your glory. And that is enough.

A new, unknown future

2008-05-27T14:50:00.011+08:00

and I don't know what's coming at me.

But God says, hey, it's okay. Every little thing's gonna be alright. You'll see. Hasn't it been this way all this while?

That's true, God.

Every day, work changes, and becomes something else. My work scope changes, people come and go, expectations pounce suddenly.

But it's not this I'm concerned about.

Things are moving fast elsewhere too. People are going, in dribs and drabs, sometimes in an avalanche. Loyalties shift, dreams die, confusion sets in, anger rises.

Does it hurt? Yes it does, goodbyes aren't exactly the mood of 'pop the champagne'.

But we move on, we press on. Why?

Because 'there must be more than this'. There is more than this, and I know it. What are we fighting for? What are we willing to die for?

And also because it's not about me.

How I feel, how I imagine things to be, how I perceive things ought to be done - this is all secondary to our higher calling. Nothing to lose sleep over.

And if we don't move on, things will start moving without us. Yes, God is on the move.

In the film Chronicles of Narnia, it was said that 'Aslan is on the move' - cue emotive, heart-thumping music, and bring on The Lion.

But, away from reel life, God is on the move - in ways that are unseen, unheard (of), and sometimes unnoticed.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. - 2 Corinthians 4:18

Sad or afraid I may be, but I know I am loved - and I'm loved the same yesterday, today and forever.

Every little thing's gonna be alright.

This is how Delirious has it -

Every Little Thing

Everything must change
There’s a mirror showing me the ugly truth
These bones they ache with holy fire
But I’ve got nothing to give, just a life to live
If your world is without colour
I will carry you, if you carry me

Every little thing’s gonna be alright
Every little thing’s gonna be alright [x2]

There’s no-one else to blame
I live my life between the fire and the flame
I’ve built my house where the ocean meets the land
It’s time to live again, pull my dreams out of the sand
Let your world be full of colour
I will carry you, if you carry me

When it’s all falling down on you
You’re crying out but you’re breaking in two
When it’s all crashing down on you
When there’s nothing you can do
There is someone who can carry you

Written by Martin Smith/Stuart Garrard ©2003 Curious? Music UK

How can I forget to

2008-05-15T17:52:00.002+08:00

mention that it's been a good nine months since I last blogged?

A baby could have been born in that time.

Yes, negotiations had stalled. Work, and other things.

Now we're back on track, I hope.

It's interesting how

2008-05-15T17:42:00.009+08:00

Simon and I were just discussing about how some blogs go on and on only about food, and nothing else.

Of course, those are called food blogs. That's a focused theme of great human interest.

Food is a tag of choice, of identity even. There are even scholastic views on the tenets of food practices founding the identity of a diaspora... or imagined community, Anderson-ian style.

But really, for the bloggers who call their online musings food blogs simply because they have nothing else to write about - that's a totally different ball game.

Don't get me wrong, I love to talk about food as much as I love food itself. I can go on and on about it. And I love hunting down the best food places - hawker, attas and inbetween.

But that can't be all there is.

Then again, there are those who do exceedingly well with food blogs (and it's not just the wonderful photos). I love those.

I won't offer a Hollywood ending by giving an intro-body-conclusion deal.

This is an indie ending.

You go figure.

There's this overflow in the first

2007-07-29T22:36:00.001+08:00

day back at work.

An overflow of that holiday laid-back at-peace-with-the-world buzz. It's laid-back, but it's such a buzz. It's one oxymoron I couldn't live without.

Who doesn't get a buzz from a holiday?

A holiday means anti-work. So does that mean work is anti-holiday?

Ok, I just did a Yoda without even realising it. My bad.

I'm here, and there's news about Shinzo Abe's coalition doing badly at the polls ('crushing defeat' is what the wires call it), and with AzS here to entertain me, it helps eases the holiday overflow a little into more of an niggling ebb.

And I've got the lovely, dark velvet of kd lang's Hallelujah in my ears. Pure velvet. Makes your heart break.

The secret

2007-07-25T23:15:00.000+08:00

is out.

I can get local food (hello peng hur! hello mee pok!!) - read: hawker food - delivered to my doorstep if I so choose.

All this, thanks to http://www.hungry.com.sg/.

The perks of being a tour guide! I was bringing Steve, Vincent, Irene and Winston, who were visiting from Melbourne for their hawker food fix when I found out that there's a delivery service.

The wonderful idea sends all of the food from Chomp Chomp and that lovely shop which used to be Athira - it's now called The Prata House, talk about leaving no room for imagination - so, stingray, mee pok, murtabak, kambing soup, mango lassi, whatever are all within the reach of my short arms.

Just poke the phone, and food will appear. Not fast food, mind you. REAL food.

Now that I've got my National Day Menu for Working On That Public Holiday...

Partying in the office is a different kind of party. In fact, Joey, an intern at my office, is about to break his vow of Never Ever Eating to celebrate national festivities. Go Joey!

PS. I can't believe I forgot to list food as one of my favourite things. That has got to change.

I think I might be ready

2007-07-24T22:56:00.000+08:00

to start blogging again.

I don't know: this start-stop, start-stop rhythm that I have is bound to drive anyone crazy, especially myself.

Went to Kuching for Steve's grandma's 80th birthday over the weekend. Check. Started reading Stephen King's Lisey's Story. Check. Want to read Harry Potter. Check.

Wrote to Desmond, or rather, a black hole. Check.

You see, if I wasn't a nostalgic person, I wouldn't have done so, or even started blogging again.
It's all about nostalgia.

You blog, seemingly to document a day or an event or a moment or even a thought (if lucky), but it is always a backward-looking, a grasping at the past.

Who do I blog for, to? Myself? The reading masses? God?

Meanwhile, I wait for Steve to return to Singapore. Thursday is on its way.

test

2006-10-28T12:10:00.001+08:00

testing