Lights

Lights. What a beautiful concept.

At the flick of a switch we can manipulate the environment to suit our needs.

They help us to see clearly.

But sometimes,

They help us to see too clearly, that we focus only on that which is lit.

Leading to an ignorance of the peripheral.

- anonymous -

I remember driving back from Hamilton, each snowflake haphazardly making its' way down to the planet we live on. Darkness shrouded the sky, and furious winds were shooting across the highway roads. It continued to snow, but the snow was unseen for it was entangled in the darkness.

"It's dark, turn on your high beams, it'll help you see the road clearer".

So I did. And what a sight! The beams of the car lit up each falling snowflake, giving them a white glow as they fell. It was as if God was throwing down pieces of heaven from the sky, proving his existence in a most majestic manner. To think that such beauty permeated the sky I was travelling under, but would not have known if I had not turned on my high beams. The light helped me to see the beauty.

But the beauty was so alluring and charming that it proved to be dangerous. The snow flakes glowed so much from the high beams that I could not see the road any longer. So I turned off my lights, as I could not contain the light.

For when the light shone I could not see the road. And when the light was dimmed I could focus on my goal. The light and its beauty is overwhelming, and I cannot contain the light.

Journey for Beauty

He hung there among the misty rain, not a care in the world. Time seemed to stop. He felt no sense of danger.

He walked up into the mountains, the mountains so glorious they seemed to both quench and fuel the curiosity of human nature. Accompanied by his loyal and trustworthy companions, they continued to tread up the icy paths that posed a risk to all who dared to venture. More often than not, these brave travellers would make their way up an icy slope, only to be denied by its slippery surface, sliding uncontrollably back down only to start once again from the beginning.

Then they came to the staircase of great torment, with a 90 degree bend which pointed straight down to the depths of the unknown. But there was an option, as there always is. In order to capture with their eyes the undeniable beauty of the half frozen rushing waterfalls, they would have to descend past the staircase of great torment. But you see, this 90 degree bend had only one railing, which sat itself about 5 feet above the ground, making it easy to fall under the railing and off the side of the stairs into one’s doom. Frozen with a layer of ice, and complete with a rope, the three of the four males, with bravery and strength, surpassed the terrain and ran to the sight they were searching for.

The fourth male also passed, but stopped to look back before rushing to behold the glory of the natural wonder. With a kind and sincere heart, he delayed his excitement in order to help the females cross the stairs as well. Chivalrously and honourably, he decided to retrace his steps, and to stand at the 90 degree bend so that the females would not have a chance of falling through, should they choose to pass the staircase of great torment. Oh what a sacrifice, that he would once reverse his progress and risk his life yet again for the sake of others! How noble!

However, just as no humans are perfect, so he wasn’t perfect either. In his bravery, he unfortunately (and unavoidably) stepped onto a spot that was extra slippery. With his arms backwards leaning on the railing, he skilfully ran in spot for a couple seconds in an attempt to regain his balance. However, the power of nature was too overwhelming for him. And so his legs slipped off the side of the staircase. And he began to fall.

The females looked and were too overcome with fear to say or do anything. Their legs froze in place. Had it not been for fear, they would surely have ran to rescue him, the one who so nobly put his life at risk for them! But of course, it was only the sudden fear and shock that was holding them back, nothing else.

As his legs slipped off, and his body started sliding under the railing into the depths of the unknown, he remembered that there were things he had to accomplish in his life. With the intensity of burning magma, the fortitude of the blazing phoenix, and the strength of a thousand suns, he threw his arms up and caught the railing by his own two hands. There he was, dangling above death.

He hung there among the misty rain, not a care in the world. Time seemed to stop. He felt no sense of danger. And, once again, with strength unparalleled by all the beasts of the field and birds of the air, he pulled himself up to safety. What a sacrifice, to risk his own body to let the females know that it was dangerous for them to attempt to traverse the stairs of great torment. What a sacrifice.

His name is Joses Wong, and he is from Halifax.

44

Forty Four left!

Life and Turtles

Life isn't always easy. Life is not meant to be easy either.

When life is especially low, there are options to choose from. These options are not exhaustive but are the ones that I feel like pointing out:

(1) disregard what is 'right' and indulge

(2) distract yourself with things you have to do or want to do

(3) keep hoping

(4) forget hoping

(5) compare your current state with your original state.

I want to focus just a bit on option #5.

Sadness is usually the result of the discrepancy between a current state and a past state or future 'wished for' state. It is interesting to think that your original state and your future state may be exactly the same, but that the emotions can differ so dramatically. Let's give a quick example here:

(a) Man does not have turtle, man is content

(b) Man buys pet turtle

(c) Man has turtle

(d) Turtle dies

(e) Man does not have turtle, man is not content

What is it that changes from step a to step e? Is it possible for one to think of their original state and be content during the 'after' process?

That's all folks,

Cheers,

Joses Wong

The Boy and his Sensei - Disclaimer

Disclaimer:

As wonderful as my literary skills are, and as creative as you readers view me to be (I wish), I did not make up the story in my previous post. Rather, it was taken from a sermon I heard in North Toronto Chinese Baptist Church by Pastor Ted. Note that everything I wrote was indeed translated from my ear to my keyboard, and I could have easily missed important details (and I also probably added plenty as well).

The main lesson of the story is that God can turn your weaknesses into strengths.

The secondary lesson (so I think) is obedience and discipline to God though you may not understand at the time.

The Boy and his Sensei

Once upon a time there lived a little boy around the age of twelve. Now one thing you should know about him is that he was involved in a car accident just a couple of years earlier. This accident resulted in him having to amputate his left arm. However, the boys spirit was not lost and was a great spirit as most boys spirits' are, resulting in a desire for the boy to learn Judo.

So the boy began to look for a sensei (master), but this was a harder task than it seemed. For who would want to adopt the little one armed boy as a student? For although the boy lacked his left arm, he was also smaller and thinner than most others. Not very impressive at all I would say.

After weeks of searching, the boy finally found a sensei who was willing to teach him judo. As the classes began, the sensei took him aside from the rest of the students, and, as if discriminating against him, told the boy to stand off by the side and wait. Once the class got into their practice routine, the sensei finally approached the anxious boy.

"Why does everyone get to do all sorts of activities while I am stuck here in the corner?" the boy asked the sensei. He replied: "there is only one move I am going to teach you, practice it well". For the next couple months while all the students engaged in their judo training, the boy practiced that one move. At times it seemed monotonous and at other times unfair. But despite the thoughts that went into his head, the boy continued, with practice and perseverance, in order to perfect this one move.

Then, one day, the sensei approached the boy and said: "I have enrolled you into a Judo tournament". Needless to say, the boy was shocked. And the day of the tournament arrived.

Round 1: Nervous and shaking the boy entered the ring. The opponent, although not impressive looking, had tons of experience under his belt, while the boy had none. The opponent charged, and the boy, using that one move, pinned him down and won the match.

Round 2: This time, his opponent was a lot bigger. With muscles the size of the Eiffel tower, he rushed towards the boy. Again, the boy, although fearful, performed his one move on his opponent, and won.

These easy victories continued on and on again until the boy reached the finals. Throughout, the boy was wondering, "how could these victories be so easy? All I know is one move while others have a lot more experience and a lot more tactics!"

Final Round: His opponent was as tall as a seven and a half foot tree, with muscles the size of two Eiffel towers. As the match began, the frail little boy stood his ground. How could he ever win against such a monstrosity? Their feet shuffled back and forth. Many times his opponent would get him into a hold, but the boy was barely able to get out of it. Hopelessly one-sided, the audience all wondered how the boy got to the finals. Then, with a final blow, the opponent ran towards him, with his arms grasping out in ferocity. But the boy, with his one move, was barely able to grab him, and pin him down for the victory. The crowd went wild, and in disbelief the audience roared. How could this boy who was missing his left arm possibly win?

On the way back to the dojo, the boy could not resist, and finally humbly asked his sensei. "Sensei, I only knew one move. How did I win?".

The sensei replied: "There are two reasons you won.

The first is that the move that I taught you is the most advanced move there is in Judo.

Secondly, the only known defense against it is to grab your opponents left arm".

Cambodia: 2003

The manner in which my discourse is presented in these blogs is often a reflection of the music that is surrounding my current atmosphere. Currently I am listening to Jade Kwan's "We Will Worship" song, (for those fans of Jade Kwan out there, me and her used to go to the same church back in Hong Kong). Anyhow, the lyrics and tonality of the song when mashed with my current state of (internal and external) being produce a moment of reminiscence. So here goes:

For those of you who have been talking to me over the past while, you probably would have heard me mention my trip to Cambodia last summer. But what you probably didn't hear me talk about much is my trip to Cambodia in 2003. I remember when I was back in 11th grade, still young and foolish (and of course now the only difference is I am old and foolish). Back when all that mattered was the company, when food was mysteriously cooked and put on a plate in front of you each evening, and when a ten page essay was considered long.

I remember sitting on the plane to go to Cambodia. No one was on the plane except for our group of people which consisted of two teachers and approximately 15 students. Thus, I clearly recall the pilot coming out and offering to showcase the cockpit to us.

I remember meeting the students at Logos on the first day. Unbounded, unrestrained, and free, what usually starts as an awkward silence instead started with roars of laughter and poking fun of each other. Surprisingly, Chinese chess was a great "interaction" starter (I hesitate to use to the word "conversation" starter because back then we weren't interested in merely conversing, but instead we were interested in interacting).

I remember climbing up Angkor Wat early in the morning (5am?) with the eerie musical instruments being played by locals on the side as we went up.

And most of all, I remember being on top of Angkor Wat. The fresh crisp morning air dancing about the morning rays of the sun. As if God was holding the universe in his hands while the radiance of his being shone through the clouds. This was a space where each person was free to be who he was. Each person was able to be attuned to nature and be free. The children skirmished around the rocks and challenged each other to see who could perform the greatest stunt. The monk sat on the broken pillar beginning his day with cigarettes and beer. The tourists smiling and posing for pictures on top of Angkor Wat, declaring their accomplishment for making it up.

And us? Well, we sang.