Monday, April 11, 2016

tick tock

words and songs and bear hugs and food and crazy days and less crazy days and screwdrivers and new boxes of tissues - what I would give for a lifetime more of this

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

mind the gap

tongue races behind molars and incisors
and then trips over the gap
and lingers there
blood, salt, emptiness.
why linger?
why try to fill that which once was full?
that is futile.
once gone, one's first tooth is irreplaceable.
this innocent little baby tooth.
but that is not to say that another
might not grow in its hollow place
in time.
but for now
mind the           gap

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Friday, March 4, 2016


almost twenty-two but intensely wishing that I was still eighteen. or even drastically younger than that, maybe six or seven. one has got to wonder: why is it that the older one gets, the more experience one accumulates, the ostensibly wiser and more capable of handling life one gets, the more helpless one becomes?

when you are six, the only world you know is a safe one: crayon in hand, ensconced in the nurturing and loving arms of your parents and the occasional squidgey child-friend -- that is all you know, and that really is all you need to know. but then you grow older, and your world is no longer represented by crude scribbles of green-hills and blue-sky and yellow-sun. the realities of the fragmented world begin to encroach past the secure boundaries of drawing paper: a terrifying and beautiful prospect all at the same time. you know more now, and you are all the more burdened for it.

smiling stickmen become ruthless and cold and divisive beings; the soaring ascent of M-shaped birds silhouetted against the horizon are weighed down by the shadowy cares of life; the light of the bright yellow sun dims. yet at the same time, you sometimes catch glimpses of real sunsets, and real starlight, and those few sparks of blinding beauty are - perhaps, perhaps - enough to keep you going in an infinitely dark world.

I don't believe in making birthday wishes. but if I were to make one tomorrow, it would be this: that we all love like children do.

Saturday, February 27, 2016


spring is almost upon us.
it will be sweet
and also bitter.
but mostly salty.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

What Treasures On This Earth

Winter break = experimenting + composing with Finale. If you want to give it a listen, go here. I'm still figuring out how best to use the software, so bear with shortcomings (I have beef with Finale's cello sound haha).

1. What treasures on this Earth can compare to You?
Not gold, bronze, nor silver can greater light endue.
Why should I trust in this world where moth and rust corrupt?
Lord, give me Your vision to see the things that last.

** Cause whom do I have in heaven but You, oh Lord?
And whom do I desire besides You, my strength and portion?
Naked I come and naked I return unto You;
This world is not my home...

2. What treasures on this Earth can compare to You?
The deepest affections pale in Your love too.
Why should I trust in this world where delight will fade away?
Lord, give me Your wisdom to seek the things that stay.

3. What treasures on this Earth can compare to You?
All pride and ambition Your humble cross eschews.
Why should I trust in this world that toils both day and night?
Lord, give me Your courage to seek things that abide.

Thursday, December 31, 2015

Falling into Grace; Springing into Trust

I think that I'm unfortunately (or fortunately?) getting less and less inclined to write long blogposts nowadays, so I'm going to keep this requisite end-of-semester reflection short. 

This semester has been one of my toughest and darkest ones yet, for several reasons - but it's also been one that has given me some of the greatest growth I've experienced in my entire life. Prior to this semester, I didn't quite realize that asking God for various qualities would often necessarily entail Him chucking me into awful situations that would enable Him to give me those very qualities that I had asked for in the first place... so I guess I learnt - and am continuing to learn - this the hard (but great!) way. 

This fall: I experienced the immensely freeing power of grace and forgiveness only by being hurt deeply; I found contentment in God only by being faced with my abject inadequacy; and I'm still learning to trust only as the result being thrown into terribly uncertain situations. In all these things, I can see how God is so, so capable of turning ashes into beauty - and how His strength is most evident in my hour of greatest weakness.

This spring: I don't quite know what to expect - some decisions have to be made, I suppose, and some wrestling with God might have to be done. 

In any case, agonizing fall's giving way to uncertain spring... yet in the deepest valleys, on the highest peaks, I know that He is good. :)

Saturday, December 19, 2015

In the Valley

In the daytime there are stars in heaven
But they only shine at night
And the deeper that I go into darkness
The more I see their radiant light

- In the Valley, Sovereign Grace -

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Rat Race

From the intro to Hobbes' Leviathan: "... much of [Hobbes'] analysis of [benevolence, good will, charity] is directed towards exposing the underlying reality and prevalence of ruthless self-seeking and self-presentation, of desires for power, success, acquisitions, and satisfactions that are wholly selfish and which are, moreover, insatiable. The normal human being will not only be actively seeking his or her own ends, but the activity will never bring repose. ... Life would be a 'race we must suppose to have no other goal, nor no other garland, but being foremost. And in it.' It will be a race in which 'Continually to out-go the next before is felicity. And to forsake the course is to die'."

This is such a fascinating, spot-on observation of the human condition - mankind is ever searching for something more, yet never finding true felicity or rest ever after "out-go[ing] the next"... because there is always another next after the initial next. Which then just brings to mind what Augustine writes in Confessions: "Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you."

Thursday, November 26, 2015

twinkling dark

and we're just like stars in the night sky: ever-present, yet ever-distant