peace . love . joy

"Desire on desire powers us on! When has the film world actually become so stiff? The movies urgently need more sex." So declares the title of an article I chanced upon while reading the news (and simultaneously practicing my German).

While it may be a bias of mine, viewing the Germans as a very sexual people, just browsing the Nostalgiemarkt, a stretch of make-shift collapsable stores along the river, and finding a prominently displayed large (apparently actual life-sized) replica of a German male's phallus on sale, watching WWII movies, think Schindler's List, that happened to have generous portions of Germans having sex, I might just be wrong. The whole world, every country, every nation, every people could be very well just as caught up with sex. Recently, I've been watching (or rather catching up with) films. Perhaps it was my bad choice of films to watch in one sitting: "The English Patient" (1996), "Coyote Ugly" (2000), "The Notebook" (2004), "The 40 Year Old Virgin" (2005), "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (2008), "The Reader" (2008), but they all had quite a notable amount of rather sexual references and scenes. In fact, in some of them films, sex takes the centre stage, the CEO's chair, the lone spotlight on a raised platform: the entire story is weaved around it.

After Scotland and after attending summer school, I finally understood why the Romantics were so very taken by nature. It is indeed the most beautiful thing the Earth possesses, with its rise and falls of the land, the winding streams and the still collection of water bodies, the myriad of colours and textures, the incomprehensibly sweet smell of life... Though landscape paintings in that era were not even considered "proper" art, the market favouring genre paintings over those, that group of brave, stubborn, emotive and innovative young painters blatantly defied the conventions of the day to paint what they felt drawn to paint, what captured their hearts, their fancies, their imaginations - nature. To some of them, nature was sacredly special: it was God's creation, a title heavily pregnant with meaning, value and significance. They saw God in nature, His character, His laws, His works, all best exhibited and displayed in the natural world of flora and fauna. Their paintings, so very detailed and real (like the later Pre-Raphaelite paintings), could even be branded a worship of nature.

Whilst on tour in Edinburgh, we visited a number of churches, in one of which I distinctly remember seeing a Celtic cross. Though it is hard to pinpoint an actual date and location that Celtic Christianity was first developed because of its variety of practices and ideologies, a common trait of the various strands of this belief was its conceptions of the presence of God. In particular, the presence of God in nature. The Celts lived in nature, their way of life fantastically interwoven and in absolute harmony with it. They saw the whole of creation, the trees, the streams, the flowers, the sky, the wind, everything, every element that creates the very fibre of nature as the demonstration and display and indisputable proclamation of God (especially His omnipresence). It could be that precisely because of their close ties with nature, their oneness with it, that they placed a great amount of importance on it.

But here's the catch:
They did not worship nature.
They looked beyond the marvelous spectacle, the fantastic phenomemon, the amazing creation...
And saw God.
And it was Him that they worshipped. It was Him that they sought. It was Him that they placed high on a pedestal, dead centre in the limelight, the point about which their world revolved.

It is ever so easy to fall so madly and blindly in love with what we primarily see, touch, taste, hear, smell...
How easy it is to become so taken up by music, by the elements, by work, by necessities, by fun, by friends, by sex...

And how comparatively more challenging to look beyond what was gifted to us, what was granted us for our pleasure and stewardship and ingenuity, to see the Giver of the gifts.

Worshipping sex, worshipping nature, worshipping intelligence, worshipping art, worshipping relationships, worshipping money, worshipping talents...
Does not equate to worshipping the Creator.

That which was given to us, which we enjoy, which we use as aids to express and worship, should, no, must never become the worshipped.

What exactly is love?
What does it feel like? How do you display it?

Recently, I've been questioning myself and my relationship with God.
Why is it that I stray from Him so quickly and so frequently these past few weeks?
Why is it that when I do, I feel guilty and miserable?
If such an act makes me feel bad, and if I love God, shouldn't I want to be with Him and not get distracted so easily?
But since I apparently prefer doing other things than spending time with Him, as much I can, whenever I can, does it mean that I don't love God?

That led me to put my relationship with my family on the hot seat:
Assuming I love them, every one of the five of them, am I showing that I love them?
Why do I love them?
Because as much as I can gather, there was never a "why" in this love equation. I just love them. They're my family and I love them. But then, if they were someone else, if they weren't family, would I still love them? In that case, does that love equal a feeble blood tie? If so, it's a weak association.. or is it?

These sentiments and questions increasingly crowded my mind in the days leading up to our Scotland visit. My family had come up to the UK on my request, and we were going to travel to Scotland together.

And in the day just before we left, I opened my quiet time materials and the closing instruction was for me to lay a question at God's feet, something that's been bothering me, but just bringing it up to God, not demanding an answer from Him.
But what do you know, God chose to answer there and then:
He told me that I will be shown what love is during our Scotland getaway.
So all I asked was for me to keep my eyes and ears and heart peeled for the answer that I really needed to know. That's it.

What is love?

It came in a long and drawn out reply.

Our mode of transport was purely trains. We took a train ride from London Kings Cross to Edinburgh Haymarket, from Haymarket to Mallaig, from Mallaig to Fort William, from Fort William to Haymarket, from Haymarket to Edinburgh Waverly, and finally the Caledonian Sleeper from Waverly to London Euston.

And all the time, looking out the window, I'd see landscape after landscape, sometimes bare greens of ferns and coniferous trees, sometimes the vast highlands giving way to lakes and trickling streams and rivers. Occassionally, we'd come across a house or two dotting the scenary. Cows, sheep, rabbits, birds contributed the only animated movement in the stillness of earth and sky. Colourful flowers decorated the land, and full clouds interrupted the clear blue heavens. Beautiful, majestic and sublime. It was then I realised and really understood why the Romantic painters like Constable, Palmer and Turner loved landscapes. I could see the paintings, not super-imposed, but in the actual vision of Scotland itself. I know why they placed nature on an elevated pedestal, treating it with some sort of religious agenda, stopping shy of calling it "god". Their paintings were in essence a worship of nature, of God's creation.

I loved what I saw.

But when the trains stopped, ceasing all individual private meditation on the sacred feast for the senses, human interaction began. And those of you who know my family, know we tend to irritate one another. If we're in a foul mood, the phrase "misery loves company" aptly applies. Sometimes, some of us even search for opportunities to get upset. Walking the tightrope between being "true to yourself", no matter how much you've changed as a person, and being patient, self-controlled and obedient to your parents is no easy feat. And so far, I think I can claim the victor's crown on one occassion out of the multiple countless times the situation called for such an exercise of character!

And that's when it hit me.

Someone once told me that love is a choice.
It was new to me then, and it is still new to me now.

Love is a choice.
A decision to be patient, self-controlled, honouring to another who you think deserves it not.
An immovable stone in difficult and raging white water.
A perseverence.

It's so easy to love something so beautiful, something that can't talk back; can't react, something that just lies there and lets your hungry senses undress it.
But it's ever so difficult to love something that is not beautiful at that very moment, something intelligent that retorts; that responds, something that is animated and has its own ideas.

So far, I think I haven't mastered the act of loving my family.
But I do hope to do so one day. And I hope that day approaches soon. Because I don't like what an impatient, impulsive and argumentative person I've become especially when dealing with my family.

It makes me think about God, and how He has loved me.

It is difficult perhaps, to love God: Him being wild and untamable, an animated being that responds and replies, an intelligent entity with His own will. C. S. Lewis hit the nail on the head likening God to a wild lion.

I hope to love Him as much I did, no, more than before. To show Him I do love Him.

As to the question of why I love Him, why I love my family.. There is no answer. I just do. Perhaps the reasons, while unclear to me now, are feeble and pathetic. But for now, they'll have to do, whatever they are. I don't think I'll ever find an answer to that question, one answer that pleases and satisfies me.

But the assumption that I love God, and I love my family holds true for me.

All the same, a hope is merely a hope: a sentence of words strung together. A glimmer in the distance.

It'll take a heck of an effort on my part to lift my feet and make them walk towards that glimmer.

But until the cows come home, until the sun implodes, until the day of Judgement, may I be found walking and reaching towards that hope!

Yesterday, I saw off the last of my closest friends I've made here in the UK. Heaven knows I'm lousy at goodbyes, even if the goodbyes really are see-you-laters.

cupcake

AnnaBanana

sQuishy

Before I came, I was really thrilled that I was going to be alone (that was wayy before I heard that some others were also going to come to UniS) because then I'd have to really force myself to be brave and courageous and make new friends. Oh, the thought of a clean new beginning! Terrifically exciting!

But about a week into being without old friends, without family, it hit me just how hard it is to be utterly alone without a familiar face, without a familiar voice. Any reminder of home will usually be received with tears on my side. And that was when I was really thankful that God brought sQuishy, cupcake & AnnaBanana to me. They were new friends, yes, but they were good friends, the closest I have here. How we clicked is simply miraculous. When we felt down, we cheered each other up. When we were troubled, we shared the load. When we were happy for no reason, we celebrated together. It truly is amazing. I am so thankful for them.

I realised I don't like to be alone. I dislike it a great deal more than I dislike the feeling of loneliness. I need people around me, noise and laughter and voices conversing, footsteps on the floor, the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, the slamming of doors.. I need to know there's human life..

But the time came for summer vacation.

Everyone packed and left right about the same time. 12 of the 14 rooms on my floor emptied in one morning. The noise ceased, the signs of life dwindled, the largeness of the kitchen and the starkness of the corridors suddenly grew large and wide and empty.

That same day, AnnaBanana's aunt came over. They had to leave early the next morning so AnnaBanana could catch her flight. sQuishy also shifted over to my room to spend the next two nights. She didn't like being alone in her house, since her housemates left too, which was off the university campus.

AnnaBanana left 6.25 am on Sunday.
Her leave was too early in the day for me to feel anything, but when I took a shower later that morning..

That added another digit to the emptied rooms on my floor.
Mine was the only one left occupied.. But occupied by two, not one.

sQuishy & I.

It was fun scavanging the kitchen with sQuishy for anything left by their previous owners that was edible (like that potato salad & chicken breasts), and could be used (like that peeler, a bottle opener, olive oil, washing liquid, &c.). Really fun times! It felt as though we were in one of those movies where zombies have taken over the world and we were the only two left and were trying to survive!

She left yesterday.

I helped drag her luggage down, which was another fun activity in itself, what with our laughter extremely piercing and loud and unstoppable echoing through the stairwell! Hilarious!
And I cried watching the taxi drive her away.

Now it's just me.

Home never sounded so good before. Ever.
Trust me, when you watch everybody around you leave, close friends, acquaintences, strangers alike, when you have to watch them go knowing full well that they won't be coming back (unlike Easter vacation), knowing full well that you will have to stay.. It tears you up and assasinates you inside like nothing ever can. Not in the same way, not in the same silent helpless viciousness.

But I am very thankful that God answered my earlier prayer, and also a prayer that I did not utter:

He knows me better than even I know myself!
He sent me people from home to be with me when, and even though, I couldn't see that I would need them.
And those people became my closest friends here, along with some others from other countries. I miss my old friends back in Singapore, yes. I miss them very much and I can't wait to be back. But all the same, I love these people too, these new characters and personalities that have walked into my life.

He cares very much for me even though I haven't been the most obedient and pleasing of children, showing me, literally showing me how much He knows me and how much He loves and cares for me no matter my earlier tantrums and naughtiness and disagreeable-ness.
He realised I dislike being alone and feeling cut off from the world even before I could ever forsee myself actually being thrust into situations that evoke those sentiments.
And He sent me people to help ease me slowly into being more alone than ever before.. Even then, He made sure I knew that I am not entirely and absolutely alone.
AnnaBanana and her aunt stayed for another night after 12 of our floormates left.
sQuishy came to stay with me for two nights, one more after AnnaBanana.
And while I was lugging her bag down 4 storeys for her (I stay on the highest floor), I bumped into a guy who was coming up huffing under a huge bag of clean laundry! We exchanged "hello"s, why we were still here and when we were moving out. He was going to be here until the 8th. I would be in this house until the 5th when I move to another university accomodation for the summer (that house would be filled with other students staying for the summer so I will be surrounded by people again).
When I reached my room after sending sQuishy off on her way, Piki, superman, YappyYap and dae were there on MSN waiting to speak with me. They opened windows first to chat, not me.
And when it came time for them to sleep because of the time difference, Esther opened a window and we chatted the dark and windy night away, retiring only in the early morning.

And now the glorious sun is suspended high in the sky, shining its brilliance and magnificence on the Earth below to the glory of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus playing in my head. I greet the day safely holding God's hand, looking up at His face and seeing Him smile down at me before we both look forward and take a step together, embracing this next 24 hours.

Thank you, God. Thank you.