this tiny heart, all neatly wrapped up and packaged in a confused haze. those hot tears have cooled; a thin layer of frost remains. and i know you still beat in your bruised state, i felt you resonate with the sunset. i know that given half the chance, you would burst right through me, your rays stretching to the horizons, even if just for a second. speak to me, oh my heart. what is god whispering to you in the stillness? what am i hearing but not listening to? what am i looking at but not seeing?

the perfect remedy

as cheryl (probably heaven's salesgirl of the year) shared about how she shared her secret remedy to a woman whose husband was was in the pits of depression, going from doctor to doctor, trying to find something that would remove that heavy piece of stone from his heart, i couldn't help but feel inspired to try that remedy myself. it was a remedy i had once faithfully gone back to over and over again before disillusionment and cynicism drove me to dump it aside together with my bible for later use and occasional tuesday nights.

it's probably no longer a secret that i've been depressed for the longest time. where i once used to carry this heavy sadness in my heart, i now even wear it. it's not hard to tell really. the lack of energy and drive to do things, the tired eyes and old demeanor even though i've only just turned 23, the anti-social behavior, the short temper and excess of emotions, the resistance to forgive and let go, to hold on to every single grievance caused to me and remember it for dear life...what a load to carry around, no wonder this heart is so tired, no wonder death sometimes seems like such a welcome respite.

tonight was no different from the past few nights for the past few weeks. the usual upsets, the usual loneliness, the usual desire to want to curl up on my bed and cry to nobody. but then i thought about cheryl and how in the deepest darkest crevices of loneliness and pain she can find the grace to pray and pray and pray, how she can find it in her to love me and all the people around her, not just friends or family but complete strangers. and i felt inspired to pick up that remedy from that dusty shelf once more.

i can't begin to describe how beautiful it was. as i sat there and quietened myself, being mindful that i was tuning myself into god's frequency, i started to feel calmer and allowed myself to be vulnerable to god. even now as i close my eyes from time to time to recall that experience, a wave of calm washes over me. it makes me feel thankful for my humanity and the experience and purification of faith and love through it. the encountering of jesus through the depths of my human pain and the amazing love that greets me and transforms me.

at that point, i was struggling with anxiety and unforgiveness, my body felt bruised and battered because i was just so tired and anxious and sad. i now know that being old is not having lived a certain number of years or walking slower than before. being old is really being weighed down with disillusionment, unforgiveness, cynicism and sloth, to name a few. i picked up henri nouwen's "inner voice of love" which cheryl gave to me and read a chapter which spoke about the two selves, the one you left behind because you were fearful and the one you became to appear formidable and how while you long for your old, intimate self, you push it away just so you'd survive. but you were only surviving without living. that's really how i feel these days. from wanting to be "jesus" to everyone, i got tired of being trampled on and took on the opposite form, shooting my mouth as soon as i was hurt, harbouring unforgiveness like a sacred treasure and doing pretty much whatever the hell i wanted. i was rebelling with a vengeance. henri nouwen wasn't far off when he penned down this reflection. he noted how that little, fearful self shouldn't be forgotten and pushed away but be made to become part of us again and that if we only allow ourselves to live with it, how much we would learn, how we would find that jesus is dwelling in that weak, fearful, human self. with all these thoughts forming in my mind, i picked up my journal which i had neglected for almost a year and instead of penning things down, i started flipping through, and i was deeply awed. i had experience those same emotions, those same thoughts then, and through those writings and my little tete-a-tetes with god, i realised how much that old, fearful self had so much to teach my now "formidable" self, how you really are your closest and most intimate friend. i was tearing when i read about the sufferings of shireen then and how i wish i could have warned her, pulled her out of it but as i read on, i was more amazed by her faith, her eagerness to forgive, to obey and to love. and i was inspired once more.

prayer is a beautiful thing. through that little prayer time just now, i found myself transforming from a person of bitterness and anxiety to one of love and forgiveness. i found myself being able to separate myself from experiences and hurt and to forgive and love those who would not understand or love me the way i wanted them to. i found myself wanting to not only pray for myself but for others. each time i worried about the reactions of others at my attempts to make peace and forgive, thinking, what if they reject me or think me a fool, i was reminded that my inclination to forgive was really between me and jesus and not because of the person in question. his/her willingness to forgive would be between him/her and jesus too. so instead, i thanked jesus for the grace to forgive.

it was indeed a beautiful time of prayer as i just allowed myself to be still, to converse with god and to write as i once used to. i recalled the words of cheryl when i told her about how i marvelled that she was always praying. and she told me that she just felt that jesus had so much to tell her. and i'm smiling because i know jesus has so much to tell me too. i feel like i've found an old friend and it's great to be back again. i pray for the grace to be disciplined in sticking to this remedy. prayer really soothes the ailing heart like nothing else can. also, i actually feel my aches gone and i do feel lighter and a little stronger. i'm actually smiling! you gotta try it if you haven't!

p.s. thanks for that forgiveness "mail", papa.

the shrinking heart

sometimes, i get this feeling that my heart used to be really big...not just big but..huge! i feel this because i sometimes feel this gaping hole where love used to reside, like i'm becoming more of a shadow and less like light. i don't think it's hindsight bias, i think i used to generally love everything and everyone. it was just easy for me to and i couldn't, wouldn't have it any other way. jesus, to me, was the coolest guy. not just a fantasy, not just a myth, not just a historical figure or a far-fetched legend. fully divine but also FULLY HUMAN, he was my role model, the coolest hippie around who didn't just sing songs about making love not war while smoking weed in a corner nor having long discussions with family and friends bitching about everyone and everything while doing nothing about it. he went out there and loved the rejected and the ostracized, the freaks and the goons, the sinners and the forgotten, consoling where consolation was needed and putting right things that were wrong. every moment was a mission to love, to give and to grow. suffering was a means for love and faith to be purified and life itself was a prayer and communion with the divine.

that was what and who i aspired to be. life was beautiful no matter what and i was always thankful for what little or alot i had. black holes would come and go but i got out pretty fast, forgave pretty quick, loved like there was no tomorrow and was driven to live every moment like it might have been my last. i carried my hopes, my dreams, my resilience where i went, staying true to them. people said i was naive and used whatever other adult-words they could find to describe the ignorance and persistence of youth but i was undaunted, steadfast and resolved to live the life i dreamed.

then, bit by bit, this big heart, this bright mind, started shrinking like a helium balloon that had flown too high and too long. i don't know how it started or why but one day, i knew these had grown awfully small when i realised that i didn't care whether i lived or died anymore, whether i hurt myself and others or not. i decided others could live the "jesus dream" because i was too weak, too broken and too unworthy to do so anymore. yes, instead of the light, i was quickly becoming the shadow, sucked into the darkness and hollowness of my own existence. could i blame anybody? it didn't matter whether i could or not, i started lashing out at the world who didn't get me, didn't allow me to breathe. i lashed out at god many times, asking him why i was still here, night after night as i lay my head on my pillow, eyes wide open in the dark, anxious about how i would ever get through another night like this. i "recommended" to god the neatest, most hassle-free ways to cease my existence in this world so that i could just disappear and be gotten over with "just as i deserved". suicide was out of the question and will NEVER be an option so you could say i was just, waiting.

i broke down many times, losing control of my emotions and impulses, easily triggered by attacks which i perceived, were to my self-worth. i felt really alone, not being understood by the people whom i really wish would understand instead of judging me so quickly. i hurt myself and others immensely. i felt i was such a "gone-case" that...so what? so what about world hunger or marginalisation or poverty? i couldn't even help myself. that's how absorbed i became, how small and shrunken this existence spiralled towards being.

what's happening? why? i can't really say. i type in past tense above but in reality, it's an ongoing battle i face. maybe i'm crazy for feeling those things, maybe i'm crazy for splashing these feelings across this page...but don't tell me i'm the only one. i know that there are many out there who have ("had" is merely an illusion) so much to give and who yearn to live and love big but now, only mourn for the death of their hearts. life for them, for us, sometimes is this big black question mark which sucks you in deeper and the more you struggle, the more you sink, like quick sand.

then there are people like lydia gouardo who are what they are and say what they say and totally blow my mind, removing the "cataracts" from my eyes and giving me a good shake-up , like being thrown into a pool of icy water first thing in the morning. my heart blooms again in these moments and becomes filled with hope and dreams once more. and the cycle repeats, wilting heart, blossoming heart, wilting heart, blossoming heart, only with greater intensity each time.

this video below speaks volumes and says very concisely and strikingly what all these paragraphs are trying to decode about the state of my heart. the important thing is, i'm still alive. and while i'm alive, i still have a shot. you do, too!

(p.s. stop the music at the right-hand side before playing the video, unless you want to create some kinda funky remix version of either song)

mama, harold and kumar

i swear my eyes are gonna pop out from playing this crazy "who has the biggest brain" game on facebook. i can feel it. i'm slowly turning into a zombie, with my eyes all spaced-out, staring in one direction, transfixed and relentless! so much for school being out, i'm drowing myself in math and memory tests!

watching harold and kumar with mama was so much fun! how it all started was hilarious. we were sitting side by side getting our pedicures done on thursday when i told her i was arranging with some of the msc dudes to watch harold and kumar the next day to which she replied, like a needy teenage girlfriend (yes, my mom), "i also want to watch!!!", complete with furrowed brows and pout. she had gotten the idea that it was going to be one of those chevy chase national lampoon kinda movies, don't ask me why. pravin and jeevan had come back with raving reviews about it and she decided this was a show she couldn't pass up on. now, any kid would say no to watching such shows with his or her mom, riiiiight?

wrong! before i found out (after the movie was over) that she thought it was a national lampoon knock-off, i genuinely thought that my mom was starting to become more adventurous. i mean, she seemed to be living out her second teenagehood these few days, sometimes to the point where i'd feel i was more like the mother and she, the daughter. it got me really curious as to how my mom would react to such a show and i immediately said yes! and she told me just now before leaving work, she was actually boasting to her colleagues that she was going to watch "harold and kumar!"

so we just watched the show a few hours ago and it was so incredibly fun watching with her! she was actually laughing hysterically. at some scenes though, she would go, "you mean jeevan (my youngest bro turning 18 in a few days time) watched this?? how can jeevan watch this??" of course, she came out shaking her head but i'm sure she secretly enjoyed it and i told her so.

i have more things to say. but i'm going to put it in the next post, right after this one! now!

p.s. i actually thought the "square root of three'' poem was pretty smart. i loved it! here it is! don't read on if you want to preserve the surprise factor!

The Square Root of 3 by Dave Feinberg

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed