Happy New Year

I'm bringing a bottle of red wine to AH, expecting a wonderful evening.

Happy new year, my dear friends!

(Picture taken at AH on 31 Dec 2009.)

This doesn't make sense

Restaurants keep popping up in that location. They are in business for a while; then they're gone to be replaced by some other restaurants. All those re-decorations just don't make sense. What a waste of money and resources. Is there something fishy? I've heard too many stories about restaurants closing down and opening up again under a new name so the owners could escape from paying what they should pay to their employees.

This looks like something big; and with some big names, too. I am wondering who the owner(s) is. Will there be any profits? How much you can earn in a district like this?

The force of life

"What a death. What a life. What a chance. What a surprise. My will has chosen life? Still, it has had me spooked and many others besides.”(The Piano, directed by Jane Campion)

I experience the full force of being alive when I am at the lowest point in my survival instinct. But still, I have that instinct. Maybe my mind has been doing something which not even I can understand.

I have no idea why I wanted to re-read Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow. Maybe it's because of the cold? That it's Christmas time? That I had had made friends with a few Danes? I couldn't even remember the plot. There was just this feeling, maybe it's like Miss Smilla's feeling for snow, something real yet transient.

"Let's call it a day." I told myself, "Let's finish it all." And yet I was trapped on a bus, sitting at the window seat, with a complete stranger next to me, blocking my way out. There was nothing drastic I could do. There wasn't even a window to open so that I could jump out. And the bus still had a long way to its destination. Miss Smilla only had some blunt knives at home. She found this comforting. If she wanted to kill herself, she had to at least go to a neighbour to borrow something sharper.

I was this close...And then these words jumped to my eyes: Anything is better than suicide. Maybe these words were the reason for my choice of reading. Maybe I remembered there was something like this in page 99. Maybe. The brain is too complex an organ; I would never know.

I felt as if life had slapped me on my face, real hard. I was swimming. I was sinking if you got the joke. Fear was in the air. Our survival instinct made us smell it out.

I felt love/loved in a hopeless situation. Why did I find it hopeless? Was it another survival instinct? May I just shut down everything so that I wouldn't be hurt? So that I wouldn't hurt? I had this fear of hurting people; I had this fear of intruding upon other people's life. But I couldn't keep my distance; it's as if I was addicted to this chaos.

Maybe it's just life. Like what we said on Christmas, it's life; it's shitty. A shitty Christmas in the literal sense could teach us a lot.

回顧09開心事

Hang on, mate!

不按時序
1) Maria為Kalle搞神秘生日派對，我也變相成為主角。
2) 跟Dr Lee見面。他仍然是What can you do about this student!
3) 在Christ Temple Congregation講道兩次，兩次都有很好的反應。
4) Eva和Birgitte到訪屯門。
5) 成功造蛋糕。
6) 在學院做了好的翻譯。
7) 閱讀Torture and Eucharist，知道自己想讀博士課程，做關於聖餐的題目。
8) 皮膚好轉，可以減藥。
9) 離開九迦。
10) 星期五參與Morning Eucharist。
11) 寫了關於open communion的文章。
12) 加入international students' choir。
13) 與媽媽相處融洽。
14) 認識了Spike。
15) 錄電台聖誕節目，為該目寫了好文章，Spike喜歡。
16) 重讀多本書，包括The Unbearable Lightness of Being，有新發現。
17) 跟John的相處，勁多歡笑，也一同憂愁。
18) 今天收到Maria的來電，Kalle約飲咖啡，皆因他們察覺我的憂鬱。
19) 知道自己是A~~，explain everything。
20) 無數的擁抱。
21) 不再因為不快才去拍照片。
22) 跟他說I Love You。
23) 因為一隻狗而拖手。
24) 在暑假開始自己煮食。
25) 在Reading Week讀Snoopy漫畫。
26) 有朋友，有新朋友，有不知為何很喜歡我的(新)朋友。
27) 主持Midday Prayer，用了n分鐘點到四五支蠟燭。
28) 擁有一隻陀錶。
29) 星期日上山。
30) 院長讚我的翻譯。

好了，好了，夠今晚用了。

Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow

I have a few comfort books, and Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow belongs to one of them.

I don't really remembr the plot; but I remember the atmosphere. It's something I want to return to when I'm really down.

It is as if there is a blanket covering me, and I'm too tired to lift it up or crawl out.

In p.99, I read this:

From the chair where I'm sitting I can see the letter box. It's the last entrance that the world hasn't tried to force its way through. Now a long strip of grey cardboard is pushed through it. There's writing on it. I let it lie there for a while. But it's hard to ignore a message that's almost a metre long.

"Anything is better than suicide," it says. That's what it's supposed to say, anyway. He has managed to include two or three spelling mistakes in the brief text.

I was on a 260X bus when I read it. As usual, I took a window seat. My reflection was on the window. I saw myself, wearing a hat which earned me the nickname "Czarina", and tears were rolling down.

Anything is better than suicide. Are you sure?

The sad thing didn't come from my being depressed. Its source came from my knowing that this depression would be gone, sooner or later; but then it would always come back. It's part of me.

I don't really mind dealing with it. It's my friend, foe, companion. I have had it for so long that sometimes I just don't notice it. But when it quietly creeps to the surface, when I notice that something's wrong, I'm already quite deep in this black hole. Sometimes, I just don't have the strength to get out. So, why not just call it a day?

The unbearable lightness of being; what's unbearable might well be the part about being.

Sensory overload

Now I can put a name to it; and I am relieved to be able to name my discomfort when there are too many sounds around me.

I took the train home after the worship service and supper tonight. The man sitting next to me was playing a handheld electronic game. Oh gosh, I just couldn't stand the noise. After him came a woman holding a toddler. She tried to make him giggle, not realizing the high-pitched sound of him was really hurting my ears. And there were numerous other sounds as well. It's torture.

The world isn't very friendly to people like me, that's all.

A Letter From Spike

Feeling real

The bruises on my left knee help me realize that I am living. The pain, the bluish colour...life can be painful; life is fragile, make a slip and viola!

It isn't a very loud pain. It's sutle; you won't even notice it until you touch upon the bruises by accident. It isn't disabling, but still, it's a reminder of your foolish accident, and of the fact that you're living.

The bluish colour is settling in; it's not so obvious late last night. It is as if it had enlarged, or maybe it did. I am only too glad that I am left with some bruises and not scraped skins; the latter would have been too much, too unbearable. I don't want to see blood; even when I have a little accident, I want a more sanitized one.

Why do people drink? Maybe the question should be why don't people drink more? Alcohol does have a numbing effect; and it's good to be numbed sometimes.

I feel so real that I want to cry. I guess Jesus didn't come to tidy up our messy world; I don't think he wanted to sanitize our life.

Maybe I should be more forgiving

Because they didn't know; neither did I know.

Candles

I'm fascinated by lit candles. Hynotized.

When we have our Friday morning Eucharist, some people would look at the icons; I look at the candles.

There is the heat emanated from the fire. I feel the warmth but dare not go too near. I don't know how people can hold a lit candle. The fire and the molten wax scare me. And yet, I'm drawn to the fire, spellbound.

What Christmas means to me

There was the nativity play. The school had rigged up a larger platform temporarily for the Christmas season. There were Christmas flowers bordering the platform and pupils were waiting impatiently for the party to start. They would get candies, snacks and of course there would be the exchange of gifts. Each year, a few pupils were chosen to play the roles of Mary, Joseph, the Three Wise Men and some shepherds. Usually, more boys got chosen. And usually, someone beautiful would don the costume and become Mary, looking at a baby doll with as much love as possible, making believe that she’s the mother of the baby Jesus.

I never got chosen, not as Mary, not as a shepherd, not even as a sheep.

The manger scene was perfect. All the characters were wearing make-up. The Three Wise Men had beard painted on their face. Their moms had to rub really hard to get it off afterwards. It’s fun to see little children dressing like adults, or so thought the adults. Mary looked a bit bored, or she just had held that calm and motherly expression for too long; Joseph was uncomfortable to be so near to a female being, and this was supposedly his wife with their new-born son, who unlike other babies, remained quiet and immobile in his wooden-box-turned cot. Jesus was there, a plastic doll the size of a real baby, but all the attention was on what’s around him. We couldn’t get sight of him anyway because he’s buried too deep in his little bed. Mary’s blue eye-shadow was making her feel like a real grown-up, just like the last beauty queen she saw on TV; and Joseph’s black eye-shadow made him look like a school bully victim.

Things looked perfect from a distance. The birth of Jesus Christ our savior fixed in a small hall in a primary school in a town called Tuen Mun, which is part of HK but isn’t really the HK you imagine. Jesus was in our midst, surrounded by children who were trying their best to do their part. The spot light was on these little actors and actress. Maybe Jesus wouldn’t mind being neglected. Maybe he wouldn’t mind being a plastic blue-eyed baby doll.

I never got chosen. I still don’t. I just looked on. Did Jesus feel lonely as well? Were his parents sad because they were unable to provide him with a more decent, cleaner birth place?

Maybe Jesus also doesn’t got chosen that much. Does he mind? We are still looking at things surrounding his birth: the tall and glittering Christmas tree, both expensive and cheap presents wrapped in glitzy paper that get thrown away once Boxing Day arrives. Maybe Jesus doesn’t mind; maybe he does. But anyway, Emmanuel, God is with us, and wish us a merry Christmas.

To listen to the Christmas programme with the above story as part of it, pls click here.

你的故事

我實在不知道，明天/下個月/明年我們仍可以見面嗎？你會否又遠走他方。於是，我決定，甚麼都不打緊了，讓我們把握當下，做對方的好朋友吧。

The world of a left-hander

The staff at McDonald's brought my cup of coffee to me, with the top of the coffee showing an M. I wondered if they were trained to do so.

I turned the cup so that I could pick it up with my left hand. The M became a W, or like someone with her hands high up above her head.

I live in an upside down world, or is it a downside up world?

What was it like?

What was it like?
What is it like?

Did they hurt you?
Do we hurt you?

I see your face,
Your lips moving,
My eyes stays
Where stubbles are growing.
May I touch your mouth
With my slender fingers,
After touching mine?
As if it's a kiss,
An indirect kiss.

What was it like?
What is it like?

Will there be a "will be"?
Or are you just passing by,
In a sudden rainstorm,
A timely refuge,
When the sunshines,
You'll be on the move again.

我以發脾氣的速度寫essay

效果不錯，Long Live Kyriarchy! Love Live Oppression!

怒氣令我寫婦女神學的功課寫得振振有詞！

我怕死，你可不可以暫時別要睡

聽楊千嬅，想了很多，很久。

抑鬱是甚麼一回事？是自己也不明白的意志消沉，是求生意欲很低，卻又仍然怕死。

我怕死。

從前，有一個人，抑鬱了一段日子，沒胃口，失眠，提不起勁。死亡的念頭出現在她的腦海，她害怕。她從來都不是一個不向別人求助的人，一晚，她打了一通電話給一個教會朋友，那朋友正在學校宿舍，或許正忙著吧，讀書人，學業要緊，朋友沒有跟她傾談的耐性，後來，大家掛線了。她怪責朋友沒跟她傾談，朋友怪責她的怪責。

她也有尋求牧師的協助。牧師很冷淡，只道你那問題應該早解決了，那不應繼續是你的問題。他的眼神很冷，或許他除了最憎動輒就不返教會的人外，也最憎要生要死的人。

那個她是我。

在我眾多消沉的日子，唯一願意在夜半時份跟我通電話的，是一個抽煙、說粗話，不受教會歡迎的人。他已累了，但他守候在電話旁，守候在我身旁。

Sense of belonging

I got this quote from the internet: “I feel like an outsider, and I always will feel like one,” the autistic writer Anne Rice once said, in an internet interview. “I’ve always felt that I wasn’t a member of any particular group.”

And I found Anne Rice speaking my mind.

I had been encouraged, pushed to foster a sense of belonging, mostly with people in my former church. The pastor told me I had to make an effort as well, the problem didn't just lie with others' insensitivity or unfriendliness.

I did try, but was never successful. I always felt out of place. I used to say that I was a poet in a time when poetry was no longer read.

Could you allow me to stay in this lack of belonging? Could you leave me be myself even though you find it weird? Our worlds are a bit different, that's all.

Trinity of friendship and love

Here comes another weird picture of mine.

Life, death, and love

A dear friend's daughter was born today.

Another dear friend's father passed away today.

And I'm in mid-air, breathing in love...

I write what I want to write

And I don't really care about the grade I get.

But then, it's always a plus when dear friends have some positive comments on my writing.

What brought us together?

After our little party at Vivien's home, we went back to the train station, some by car, more on foot.

We were gradually divided into two groups, me with three guys from the States, Camaroon, and Samao respectively.

I wanted a map that show all these countries plus HK just to get a feeling of how far apart we had been before.

What brought us together? And why were we having so much fun, laughing so hard?

I guess it's magic, or to use a more Christian word, grace.

Sharing

I remember this classmate of mine back in Liverpool. He was doing an MA in the Geography Department, while I was doing mine in the School of Communications. We were doing a course on culture mainly for undergraduates. For postgraduates, there were additional tutorials apart from the lectures.

His name's Chris. He had a part-time job, working in a pub in the evening. He told me about his working class background, that was the first time I learned anything about class.

There was a shop selling very cheap sandwiches on campus. A big one cost only one pound. One day, Chris got one that he couldn't finish. He just gave half to a man, a complete stranger, sitting next to him. That man accepted his offer. And the story ended.

I have been trained to be suspicious. I wonder if I would accepted this offer. I might have done so in Liverpool, but probably not in HK.

I was reminded of Chris after lunch with a friend today. I was reminded of hardship in poverty, but also the kind of love and friendship you could find in difficult time.

What made me happy today

I had got an incredibly cheap candle holder which I hoped would fit the Christ candle at the Adventh wreath. We needed something small enough to be in the middle of the wreath with four candle holders surrounding it, and yet big enough for a taper candle. It worked, and I was happy.

Managed to get a very beautiful scarf for a friend who's leaving the seminary soon.

Exchanged SMSes with a dear friend.

Got a call from two other dear friends. They were doing Christmas shopping and would like to know if there's anything I wanted.

I was also moved by friends' concern over my recent inexplicable sadness.

I think I have been sad because I know I am unable to love as much as I want. Relationships bring hurt. To love is also to risk sadness. We are all going to say goodbye to one another sooner or later; and saying goodbye is sad. When I open my heart to someone, I take a risk. It isn't rejection that I fear the most. I am afraid I will hurt my beloved. I am impatient; I can be very mean...And with the best intention, I usually end up doing stupid and hurtful things.

Children's Church

The dramatization of the Christmas story during the worship service.

An urge to come out

It isn't about sexuality.

We all have our own secrets, big or small. There is this urge to come out when you meet someone who seems to be able to understand. It's like the drawing of the pilot in The Little Prince; he shows it to the Little Prince and he understands.

I have just met a guy who seems to possess this unusual ability. And I have such a picture...Maybe...

Midday prayer

No one came. But I managed to light four candles without burning my finger or setting the crypt on fire, so it wasn't too bad after all.

婦女神學作業--禮儀

完成了！

入學以來三次分組presentation，三次都關於禮儀。第一次是名正言順，因為課程是崇拜及禮儀，第二次是上旁門與新興宗教，今次則是婦女神學。

察覺自己的轉變：由第一次大部分時間聽組員討論，自己跟隨，到第二次獨自寫禮儀，但有點胡里胡塗，到今次終於知道自己所作何事。

其實學院就有這個特色，有空間讓大家學習/發揮關於崇拜禮儀這課題。保守的有保守的學習，想創新也可以。

Advent wreath 2009

Years later, will I still remember this?

I hope years later, I will still remember John, Kelvin and I put this together.

I like the crystal-like candle holders. The IKEA candles burn surprisingly well. The purple flowers we got from the Flower Market. We had them dried. John even put them under the sun. The wreath I got from a shop in my neighbourhood and we made some changes to it. That disk under the wreath, well, what do you think it is? It came from my kitchen.

有性別意識的崇拜禮儀

為了星期二婦女神學課堂的報告，在過去一星期我都忙於撰寫一個有性別意識的崇拜禮儀。

正值將臨期，這個禮儀就以馬利亞即將臨盆為背景，選讀的經文都是關於這個的。

寫這禮儀的困難，主要是我要首先打破自己的想法、習慣，所謂undo, unlearn，習慣了一開口就「奉聖父、聖子、聖靈的名」開始聚會，如何改變？是否單單把聖父變為聖母就可以？但聖母又教人想起耶穌的母親馬利亞啊！

困難是沒有什麼可以抄襲。天下文章一大抄，大概天下禮儀都是一大抄。美其名是跟隨傳統，但實際可能是我們懶。要用心寫好禮儀是何等花心力，香港有幾大教會願意「請」一個牧師/傳道人不作什麼(即不開會、不開班、不見人)，只求做好崇拜禮儀？

如果崇拜禮儀是我們預嚐天國的途徑，我們就更要正視當中隱藏的不平等。如果我們在崇拜禮儀中與天上地下眾聖徒相通，我們就更要留心這是一個怎樣的團契。

有反思，才不會陷入「食老本」的危機。

The two-edged sword

God's word is active and sharp like a two-edged sword.

But if this two-edged sword is for cutting away my sins, then perhaps it's not so sharp after all.

My sins are in my being. I may behave good, but I can't do away with my nature.

I had quite an interesting "conversation" with a student at the seminary about the content of a teacher's reflection in the morning Eucharist service. I thought she had got it wrong, that she had misunderstood our teacher's words. Her idea that God had to cut out our badness before we could freely come to God/God come to us was very telling. It's a very typical idea taught by many local congregations. We're all sinners. We're bad through and through. Ok, grace is free; but we do not deserve it. We have to "respond" to God's grace by doing good, acting good, by not sinning anymore.

But if sin is in my being, then how can I stop being a sinner?

Didn't Jesus die for us even when we are still sinners?

So, what is grace?

Worship at Chung Chi

John was invited to lead a Taize-style worship service at a weekly assembly at Chung Chi. More than 20 LTS students joined it. It had to be a new experience to quite a number of Chung Chi students. To me, there was also something new. The venue was different; we sat on chairs with shoes on instead of sitting barefeet on the floor; and there were much more participants. We brought with us the liturgy books, Taize song books, two icons, candles and even eight dried flowers. In other words, we brought with us almost everything we needed for the service except the bread and wine.

I was a bit too conscious that we were having the service with students of another seminary. It was as if I was showing something instead of having our worship service as usual.

There were also some observations on my part: when we prayed, it was usually a prayer with explanation and what we wanted God to do; maybe we felt we needed to explain the whole story. And in the Q and A session, the questions were not unexpected. There was one on the meaning of the eight flowers. The three incense were another subject matter. They're too close to traditional Chinese religion to make one comfortable.

All in all, an interesting evening.

Books, CDs and icons on sale.


Upon leaving Chung Chi.