*random thoughts*

Have you ever been on a boat? I have. I don't like it. It was a small boat and I was out at sea. The waves were rocking it here and there, back and forth. Constant, perpetual motion.

I remember thinking please stop moving! I'd like to walk in a straight line and not into people! It didn't listen. Figures; boats can be so hoity-toity.

Eventually, I made it to dry land, and I've come to realise that I may be many things, but I am out of my element when it comes to large bodies of water. Heck, I am out of my element in my shower at home.

My life at the moment feels like that. No, not like I'm in the shower, like I am on a boat, out at sea. There's no solidity, no constancy. It's perpetual motion, constantly rocking and I am walking into people. And hard objects. I'd like to return to dry land again.

I just resigned from a job as a stringer aka freelance journalist (still don't know why the industry uses the word stringer). A year ago, I really wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to make a difference via the media. I still do, but now, not as a journalist (but there are so many kind of journalists, we'll see). I've been pursuing the goal for a while now, and now, I am..bereft of goal. It's not a pleasant feeling.

I tell myself, that only when lost can I find my direction again.

And then, if you have been reading, I recently parted ways with an amazing girl. It's not complicated and we are just friends now. We were in a long-distance relationship, and it just didn't work. She will be back in a little under two weeks. For the past few weeks, I've been trying to figure out if it is still worth repairing what we had. Then, a minor epiphany. I remembered why I decided to start in the first place, knowing full well she would leave for 8 months.

I remember thinking that this girl was definitely worth it, that even if we were to go our separate ways, whatever time I did have, I would have counted as blessed. And I do. The reason hasn't changed. She's still worth it.

Then, there's God. All my life, I've had this aloof, distant and, to be frank, blase relationship with God; a you-do-your-thing-and-I'll-do-mine deal. I've always looked to him as a Father, a strict disciplinarian who will whip - literally - me into heaven. Yes, it's wrong. No, I don't know where I got that notion from. Recently, I've been reading a few books, and they all blow that mindset out of the sea. I always knew He loves me, but to find out that He is in love with me? That one is going to take awhile to sink in.

It's not that He is not constant and strong enough to stop the motion of the boat, but I feel a little lost, a little like I have to relearn everything I thought I knew about Him, because I've been looking at it so wrongly. It's like I didn't know Him at all...

Oh well..maybe, like I said before, I should just savour the unpredictability. Maybe I'll finally learn to swim properly.

as

OMG HE'S GAY RUN AWAY FAST

I don't know about you, but I sometimes I think it's difficult to be a man in our society today.

We are expected to know all the answers all the time. We are expected to never cry, never show fear (although inside we just peed our souls), never say you don't know what to do (although you really have no idea how to fly an airplane and both pilot and copilot just passed out), never show weakness, in fact, it'll be altogether easier if we just don't show any emotions whatsoever.

Basically, what we are asked to do is to put up a facade. It doesn't matter if you are afraid, pretend you're not. It doesn't matter if you are lonely, pretend you're not. It doesn't matter if you don't know what to do, pretend you're awesome and go fly that plane.

In short, we are expected to be fakers and liars.

Good job, society.

What's your first thought, when a girl is nice and caring to another girl? Oh wow she's awesome and friendly and smart and she smells nice and her hair is nice and her make up is nice and she's so nice.

So. What's your first thought, when a guy is nice, and friendly, to another guy? OMG HE'S GAY RUN AWAY FAST.

So much for social paradigm.

Like I said, we are expected to be cool, calm and emotionally stable, all the time. We must show that we care but at the same time, pretend we don't give a rat's ass.

So if a friend's pet dog - or mum - dies, you must not give him a hug. You may say you're sorry - and maybe pat him on the shoulder, but only if you're in close proximity i.e in elevator - and immediately change the topic to cars or hot girls, or better yet, cars with hot girls in them.

I don't know about you, but it's tiring, pretending to not care while all the while, you do very much give a rat's ass.

But hugs and cars and dead dogs aside, the one thing that a really cool guy must never do is text or write smileys.

Smileys? For a cool guy?

as

Travelling Through One Young World

A little over half a year ago, an esteemed friend approached me and said, "Hey, Lionel, I want your help with this project."

He went on to elaborate lightly on what needed to be done, and then said, "Why don't we meet up and talk further about this?"

And that was how I was introduced to One Young World. I didn't know heads or tails of it, and if you don't either, here's the site.

My esteemed friend and mentor, Jon, wanted me to help - in my ability as a writer - with a report called One Young World Impact Report, which is a compiled report about the activities of the youth leaders in Malaysia.

I will be honest with you, when first I heard of this, I only saw how I could gain from this - it would look great in my CV, I would make so many contacts etc andsoonandsoforth. I was a new writer, trying to find my voice in a world saturated with sound, and this was one of the ways that I thought I could get my very own breakthrough.

Here comes the part where I tell you something sappy about how this project changed me, about how much I've grown. I did. I interviewed people - something I've never done before - and gained a new confidence. I was given the opportunity to work with an awesome team - Michael Teoh, Jonathan Chu, Bernie Quah and Mushamir Mustafa. This is the first big project that I've ever worked on, and it is unbelievably fulfilling to put time and effort into completing it.

I met some really great people. Youths - like you and I - who are passionate about making that bit of difference. Youths, who go out there and in their capacity, change their communities, nevermind that word of their work will never reach the public's ear. Youths, who believe that a single life changed is more important than all the publicity in the world.

And, along the way, these inspiring people changed me too. I've come to see that we are not compiling a report, soulless and cold, just so I get a nice line in my CV. We are telling the stories of these great people, these great youths. We are telling the stories of their hard work, their struggles, their failures, and ultimately, we are telling stories about their triumphs.

I started this project wanting to find my voice, but now, they - my team and the people I've been privileged enough to meet - have shown me that we all have a voice; the difference is only in what we say and what we do with that voice.

Mahatma Gandhi once said, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

I am, finally, beginning to understand what he really meant.

~

p.s. If you have an interesting project you want to share with the world, please, contact me

here

or you can share it 

here

p.p.s If you have the time, please 'like' my profile on One Young World.

It'll only take a few seconds. Much, much love and thanks in advance!

Individualism

I love social media, the way people can say anything and everything on their minds with absolute transparency, the way it perforates every life and every level of that said life. To think, something that didn't exist not twenty years ago could be something the average student today can't live without.

I won't deny that I am an addict, but this is not the point of the post. What's doing the backstroke in my gray brain goo today is the whole concept of individualism, something I see and read especially, nay, only in social media.

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I get it. I get that people want to belong to themselves. I get that in our world today, more and more people are turning to themselves to find the answer, because no one else will help you find it. Worse, no one else cares enough to actually find it with you.

And you know, the irony is that the more connected we are, the lonelier we get.

Of course, I don't believe in being overwhelmed by any tribe. I don't subscribe to any thought or religion or philosophy that I have not first let swim the backstroke in my gray matter, regardless of what the tribe says. My conclusion may follow the tribe, or they can decide to cast me out. But I have to say, the tribe usually has very good points and perspectives.

I am sure that people need people. Not just to get ahead in life, or to benefit in any way. In our very essence, homo sapiens are social creatures. You want to argue that? Even at home, when we are alone, we create digital highways that allows us to connect with one another. If that is not an internal yearning to be connected, I don't know what is.

I see all these posts and whatnots saying how 'be yourself and fuck everyone else' or 'the only one you need to listen to is you' or whathaveyous. Something in me rebels and feels sickened at these blatant 'I am the master of my own universe' sayings. You shouting it out on a social media platform, to me seems like a cry to be noticed, Nietzsche notwithstanding.

I am sure a middle ground can be found between individualism and a people-centric life. I believe that, at the end of the day, people - and all connections thereof -  are the most important. Your story is never about you, it is always about the people you meet, the people that changed your life.

Feel free to disagree, but this is just my own thoughts (which I hope is worth more than two cents) on the matter. I may be the captain of my ship, but I am definitely not the master of my fate.
as

Sometimes It's a Choice

I can say that I've lived a pretty good life.

I'm going to be 23 (cue Jimmy Eat World) soon, and as I look back at my journey, I can honestly say that, while I have not lived to the fullest everyday, I have lived.

I've done some bad things, and I've done some good things. I've hurt, and been hurt; I've forgiven as surely as I've been forgiven.

What puzzles me is that when I look back, I can see only mostly good things. I don't have a dark past to divulge to you; I don't have deep regrets that torment my soul deep into the night. Of course, to say I have no regrets would be a lie, but the ones I can remember are superficial; I should have used my time for this, I should not have said what to who. You get the picture.

I have no deep regrets. My life has been good. God has seen to it that I wanted for nothing.

I can hear your thoughts at this point. You are thinking that I've not truly lived.

And that's the crux of the matter. Why is it, that we don't see people who have had a good life, people with not regrets, no dark secrets, no sordid pasts, why is it that we see this people as having never lived?

I sometimes wonder, what would have happened if I actually did walk a darker road. What stories I could tell, what words I could write here. She is such an enticing lady, is darkness. What a muse she makes.

Why do I think that way? I don't know. Why do you, for that matter?

Of course, pain and hardships build character. It's like that quote: you never know how strong you are until strong is the only choice you have. Refining fire and all that.

I don't mean to be callous about your pain and hurts. Some hardships are inevitable. But some are a choice. I don't mean to sound superior, or condescending, far from it. If you've read anything I've written before, you will know that I am not that person.

I just want you to know, that even though some of us may not have had to - or chose to - walk a path that is similar to the hell you've had to face, it by no means mean that we have lived less. We just live differently, that's all.

But, if you ask me what I do regret, my answer would that I've never had to face what some of you have faced. It's not so much a regret as it is intriguing. I've never seen that side of the coin, and often I wonder what it would be like.

Oh, the stories I could tell you.
as

More Roads in Yellow Woods

This place started out as a place where I can pen down thoughts for myself, and whoever it was that wanted to read them. Strange, that while it remains mostly the same, it has also evolved into something quite different.

When I first started writing here, I was pretty sure I was on that road to be an engineer. Somewhere along the way, plans changed, and I decided that I wanted to write.

So, now I am a part-time journalist with a local paper.

There's so much I've learned from my way more experienced colleagues about writing news. I've never had any formal training; I just took a shot in the dark and for some reason they hired me. And no, the newsroom (here at least) is a very quiet and civil place.

But..there's this disquiet, a degree of dissatisfaction that I've been dealing with for a while now. I can't quite put a finger on it, but I know that I don't like writing hard news. It's so...regimented.

So, where does this little crisis of faith leading me? I don't know. Maybe it's because I feel like I am telling stories no one wants to hear, or answering questions no one actually asked.

Who knew, that the road in the yellow wood would branch out again into smaller, more obscure lanes.
as

Turn It Off

In the past few days, media the world over has been a-twitter over the death of a particular terrorist. If you've been hiding under a rock, here's what happened.

My first reaction to the news was a joy of some sort. His actions ten years ago rippled throughout the world, not just in the first world nations. Malaysia may not have been in the forefront of these ripples, but we felt it nonetheless.

And then I went online, and I see all these people spouting 'love not hate' quotes, saying that we should forgive him, pray for him, etc. I called bullshit.

I thought to myself, yeah, sure, you say that now, online, hiding behind a computer, why don't you say it to the families affected by 9/11 or to the families of soldiers who will never come back from the Middle East?

My response to his illogical hate, was to hate illogically.

So I went about my days, singing a shallow tune and believing that all was right again in the world. It took me a few days to understand that, even without realising it, I've switched sides.

Illogical hate can never be countered with more hate. It solves nothing, but in the end, destroys everything.

We Christians are in the ministry of reconciliation. Love and forgiveness will, in the end, prove to be the better, and I am not saying it like some hippy, peace-loving-vegan of the '70s.

You want examples? Martin Luther King Jr. Mahatma Gandhi. They, and their followers, believed - rightly so - that peace is the way. No matter that people spit at you, hit you, hurt you. They retaliated with peace. Both were assassinated. That's a heavy price, but at the end of the day, you and I reap the fruits of what they sowed all those years ago.

Nelson Mandela, released from prison after 27 years, and was elected president of South Africa, asked his jailer to join him on the platform during his inauguration. Throughout his career, his sought to diffuse the cycle of vengeance. He insisted that the country needed healing more than it needed justice.

It was during these times, that a woman listened as a policeman - and his friends - describe how they shot her son and burned his body, turning it over a fire like a piece of meat on a barbeque. Eight years later, they burned her husband alive while forcing her to watch.

When the court gave the now elderly woman a chance to respond, all she asked was that the policeman bring her to the place where her husband died, so she give him a decent burial. The man nodded in shame. She then added a further request.

"Mr van de Broek took all my family from me, and I still have a lot of love to give. Twice a month, I would like for him to come to the ghetto and spend a day with me so I can be a mother to him. And I would like Mr van de Broek to know that he is forgiven by God, and that I forgive him too. I would like to embrace him now so he can know my forgiveness is real."

Love and forgiveness will be the power that will change the world. I am not saying that this particular terrorist didn't deserve his fate, or that the US should not have pursued him so. My opinion is that they did right, but then I am making myself a judge and jury, and I don't want that.

Maybe, it's really time to find forgiveness in our hearts. Cliches aside, if we hate as Mr bin Laden did, the only difference between us would be that he turned his hatred into action. And without being a religious nutcase, he was a child of God too.

You choose your sides, but I've chosen mine, and I am rightfully, returning to it. I am choosing to turn it off.

courtesy of onelove

as

courtesy of Film Grain

I'd take the pain and passion of answers over numb, unfeeling silence any day.
as

You Won't Hear It Till You Hear It

It is 1 AM and I've been awake for almost 20 hours. My body is so tired, but my mind refuses to go to sleep. I just came back from a concert by Switchfoot, and I gotta say, they are probably the best act I've seen live. The lights on my ceiling are turned off, but those in my mind aren't.

I was just reminded of the strange way - strange to you and I, but not to those who believe - God works. Lately, I've been reading what many people will derisively call self-help books. I don't think any book will fall under that category - books are books. Regardless, why sneer at a fine piece of written work if it actually changes lives? But, I digress.

I recently finished - not two weeks ago - a book given to me by a friend back in '08. I left it to gather dust on the shelf for three years, and when I finally read it this year, it changed my life. I know now that I would not have understood it 3 years ago. It was God, telling me exactly what I needed to hear at the exact moment when I needed it the most. Exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

You may think of it as a mere coincidence, but here's another one, also about a book, borrowed to me by someone dear to my heart. I didn't touch it for half a year, but when I finally started reading it, it was as if a light switch was flipped and I saw so much with clarity. It answered so many questions and raised even more. Exactly what I needed to hear, exactly when I needed it.

I am reminded of the many times that I complain about His absence in my life and the times when I don't hear Him, but I've got it all wrong; I never listened in the first place. I placed Him in a box and told Him to talk to me in this particular way, at this particular time. I placed limitations on the infinite. No wonder I never heard squat.

A friend passed me a video titled Nooma 001: Rain by Rob Bell (embedded at the end of the post) at the beginning of this year. I never got around to watching it. At this particular moment in my life, I am still reeling from a recent hurt, and if I am perfectly honest, the loss affected me in a very significant way though I pretend that it didn't, that I am perfectly whole and fine. There comes a time when that dam will reach a breaking point. All the lies you tell yourself, all the walls you put up to keep the hurt out - when in fact you keep it in - will crumble. And I was left with the realisation that this was the bottom already. I can go no further, and I can't crawl up the well by myself.

All of this, the crumbling walls, manning up to my lies and half-truths, all of it happened as I watched the video. All that I had left was my tears, and my God. There was nothing else. And I think that's when I really began to heal.

It was exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed it the most.

May you, when you're soaking wet, lost, hurting and confused, may you cry out, and may the Creator of the universe take you out of your pack, and may He hold you tight up against His chest. May He wrap His eternal, loving arms around you and may you hear Him whisper 'I love you, buddy. We're gonna make it. Dad knows the way home. We're gonna make it. I love you.'

Only Me

I am only a one
A one in all the sea
In the dark, all alone
Amongst faces, just me

I am only a sigh
As the wind will whisper
As the autumn leaves will die
As all fires will flicker

I am only a door
A door without a key
A room without a floor
Eyes that will never see

I am only darkness
A lamp without a fire
A mask, and a mess
An unseeing liar

I am only a mask
Happy, yet, unsmiling
A question no one asked
Bleeding, yet, not dying

I am only a song
One I will never sing
My melody isn't long
Gone, my coda won't ring

I am only one, see
Unequivocally
Lost irrevocably
Lastly, only, just me
as