RAGE and contempt on Tuesday. Graduation March and Parade on Tuesday night/Wednesday. Massive spring cleaning on Thursday. Direct Enlistment and six bus-loads of parents and relations and girlfriends on Friday. ACT (read: exam) on Saturday. COS on Sunday followed by back-to-back guard duties next week. Is there justice in the world?

Still, I guess moving from rage and contempt at a level I’ve seldom experienced to the satisfaction and high spirits from the abovementioned bus-loads of, I think, reassured and happier-for-the-experience people gives me a kind of ‘it’s the end of a good week’ feeling. Thursday nights off was fun too.

I think I’ll go to sleep happy and grateful again.

I. Where Are We, Really?

While it’s tempting to be intoxicated by the thrill of being young and (if we’re honest about our real commitments) free, I am wary. Youth and beauty and talent might be a license to indulge in pleasurable excess and vain, if sometimes hilarious, stupidity (I understand that people call this ‘having fun’). But does the fact that it is excusable make it (dare I say it) right?

I understand that my admonishment may seem pointed, but if it is, then I am as much the target as anything else, or anyone I could have in mind. In the light of that I hope that my question inspires soul-searching rather than resistance, because it is not an indictment.

II. Promise And Its Dangers

My thoughts stem in part from questions that Dean put to a few of the youth during Alpha training two weeks ago about the rather remarkable socio-economic makeup of my cell. My response was to the effect that we can’t deny the circumstances or the facts contributing to our identity, and that the facts and circumstances are, objectively speaking, fortunate. An observer would have his pick of labls, from ‘elite’ to ‘undeserving’.

I do not suggest that any attempt should be made to manipulate outside opinion. However, the least we could do is guard against a sense of entitlement. If it is inevitable that certain things about us are going to be seen as exclusive, it is also our decision whether or not exclusivity becomes part of our attitude. We do what we can on our part.

I don’t think we’re going down that path. All the same, I think I find myself drifting towards pride and contempt too often to not be cautious.

*

Army life does not help my contempt problem.

BAND PRIDE.

Enjoy.

Early morning QT again, and I thank God.

I quote my post on The Increase:

John 7 records a rather comical example of human psychology for us:

^“2Now the Jew’s feast of tabernacles was at hand. ³His brethren therefore said unto him, Depart hence, and go into Judaea, that thy disciples also may see the works that thou doest. ^4aFor there is no man that doeth any thing in secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly. ^4bIf thou do these things, shew thyself to the world. ⁵For neither did his brethren believe in him.” – BibleGateway

I quote from the KJV.

On the one hand, we have Jesus, someone exceptional (the passage refers to his ‘works’, although you could read from even earlier on for context), and whose actions and motivations are apparently unfathomable to those around him. On the other hand, we have the people of Galilee, who are referred to as his ‘brethren’. The tension in their relationship lies in how the Galileans at once feel as though they want to be identified with Jesus, but are at the same time wary of being seen as such, mainly because they do not understand why he goes about his work in the way he does. As the scripture has it, ‘neither did his brethren believe in him.’

Fortunately for us, we have the benefit of belief in him, and with the knowledge that accompanies that belief, upon examination, the Galilean’s response to Jesus is indeed quite amusing.

One of their issues is that they did not quite get why Jesus didn’t want recognition despite his being able to do fantastic work. They responded by telling him, in effect, that he wasn’t going about things in quite the normal way, but that deep down he was the same as they were (verse 4a). If he was going to keep doing what he was doing, he might as well go to Judaea, somewhere Significant, the festive season (v. 2) being a fortuitous reason for him to travel. There was no reason for him to stay in the backwater he was at when there was opportunity, in the form of a good time and place, for him to gain recognition (v. 4b), and also legitimacy.

Because the other issue the Galileans had was a kind of societal inferiority complex, or perhaps a kind of small town mindset. I submit that, to some extent, they already knew who Jesus was. However, they lacked the conviction or the courage to accept him or accept what they knew. They would much rather watch and wait for Jesus to succeed in Judaea before commiting their reputation as a community to him. They didn’t have to support him all out right then, but they could still say, ‘He was from Galilee!’ later. What would you feel if you were in Jesus’ position?

While I do think that most Christians do genuinely accept that Jesus lived, died and was resurrected, accepting the facts of his life alone doesn’t put us in a much better position than the Galileans. Have we really commited to what Jesus has shown us about how to live life and how to live with each other? I guess a more common struggle is whether or not to do what we think we should or act like how we think we should act in social situations. (I think ’social situations’ covers most of our interactions with the world.) That would sometimes involve sticking our necks out, and it’s very easy to think about the risks and payoffs in social terms. On the other hand, conforming to some mean of behaviour is safer and doesn’t threaten anyone. And just in case anyone thinks I have the answer, well, I don’t think there is one, so I contend with it as well.

I guess there’s also the possibility that we don’t really even feel that we know our God well enough in the first place, but then what’s stopping us, really? It’s not as if we don’t know where to start, and, honestly, there’s so much further we can go from there.

I was looking at the passage early one morning, but the follow up was accomplished later, just in case anyone thinks I was able to do this between 5BX and first parade.

Things would be easy if I was purely intellect, like a brain in the air. Thanks to training that I’ve been doing in the past year and even longer ago, it would still be easy if I was intellect with just physical limitations, like a brain in a body. Then, maybe, I wouldn’t feel like sleeping just to spare myself the wait for the next item on the schedule.

This doesn’t exactly match up to Music Heals The Soul, but I guess this is my way of saying that these are the sounds that I’ve been going on in the weeks gone past.

I think Somebody To Love is such an evocative opener, or rather it has an evocative opening. Still, I suspect I think that way mainly because I watched Little DJ – Chiisa na Koi no Monogatari. Moving down the list, there’s lots and lots of acoustic-ish guitar strumming and arpeggios. I guess that’s because there’s lots of Wilco. Most days in these past few weeks, I haven’t really been in the mood for Rock. Not everything’s mellow and comfortably abstract, though. Have I ever mentioned that I think If She Wants Me is one of the most infectiously happy songs ever? Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood is similarly animating. (The song was also mentioned in American Gods by Neil Gaiman, but he was probably referring to the version by The Animals.) I hope you get my drift. These songs have made many days and many hours better.

I am falling into quite a negative pattern of rush posts just before I leave the house to catch the boat. In a way, I guess I had much more I felt I had to write this weekend, but I never found the time, so this is… a compromise.

Still happy.

I have been writing vignettes and conceptualizing projects that I wish I could do. Both acts are signs of blurred vision, but I have been revelling in that lack of focused-ness; it has something to do with the fact that I have been spending too much time and mental energy on obligations, so much so that following through on something of my own conception seems harder and harder to do. That I am finding it difficult is itself contributing to feelings of uncertainty.

Sergeant Derek, in military dress, has just stepped off the train. He is deciding whether to head northeast or to take the walk home. The iPod goes into the small, useful-looking brown canvas pouch slung at his hip. He slings his black duffel on his other shoulder and sets off in another direction altogether.

He surfaces at one of those other exits, this one near the beginning of Chinatown. He knows there is a bus stop somewhere ahead and veers in that direction, but after a few steps he decides he is quite hungry.

By now, he is a little further down the road, and he sees possibility in the sprawl of tables overflowing onto the already narrow-ish sidewalk. Some of the tables are occupied. Only one of the four shop-houses is open.

With three days of having eaten oily canteen food in mind, he ignores the incongruously offered nasi padang, chicken cutlet and oyster omelet, and orders pei dan chok. There are steamable-looking fish swimming around in the tanks near the entrance of the coffee shop, but Sergeant Derek isn’t feeling quite that adventurous, despite how his feet have carried him to where he is. There is a table by the wall.

As he waits for his porridge, Sergeant Derek wishes he had a camera, or, alternatively, prodigious writing talent. He is trying to put his finger on what strikes him about his surroundings, but he can’t quite manage it, so he starts with the apparent. His table is by the wall, and on the wall there are three rows of framed black-and-white newspaper clippings and photographs. They have captions like ‘South Bridge Road with Elgin Bridge in the background, 1941′ and ‘New Bridge Road, circa 1960′. The wall is browned and watermarked, but the prints are new. The frames are black plastic, like those on Sergeant Derek’s spectacles.

His food arrives. They are generous with the you tiao, and he tries one. It is a bit too soft, and he decides he won’t finish the bowl. On the other hand, the porridge tastes good. He suspects the you tiao would be better earlier in the day.

There is a Channel 8 drama on TV, one of those current ones with young, smiling actors. ‘Channel 8 drama’ used to mean something else, and Sergeant Derek has the strange feeling that the drama on TV is an intruder on the space of the coffee shop, the only thing out of character, or from the wrong era. That was strange as well, because he realizes that everything else in the shop couldn’t exactly be said to match either. The shelf of wooden pigeonholes (eight by eight) for food orders clipped with wooden pegs was next to the Super Cold beer fridge, at -6.1ºC according to the digital readout. The double row of grease-yellowed power sockets were connected to a closed-circuit television system as well as electric altar candles. He is struck by the lack of concept, and struck again by how ridiculous the notion was. What a ridiculous character, this notional Derek in smart No. 4.

He is nearly done with his porridge. They were generous with the century eggs too, and he doesn’t finish the last one. He closes his notebook.

I will be catching a boat soon.

Christianity Revisited (blog) started today. Today’s pilot could have gone a lot better, I suppose, and hopefully we’ll be more prepared next week. There’s also a lot to reconsider before then.

But today was a very good day, mainly due to the fact of us having a band reunion of sorts. In the company of my comrades in music-making (music-making usually accomplished at the same time as merry-making), it was, naturally, a day for adventure. I tried actually playing basketball for the first time and failed quite terribly, but still, ‘Bandies are sporty!’ I had Burmese food for dinner and it was genuinely enjoyable, and cheaper than expected. And there was, of course, the Maragnan at Max Brenner’s; listing the ingredients would be too much of a spoiler, but it was served in a bottle that we could use to contain silver nitrate in the chemistry lab if we so chose, and it was accompanied by a shot glass. Today’s risks definitely produced more hits than misses, and they were all fun to take.

Until next weekend (which will hopefully be longer).

My previous post mentioned good things. From Psalm 103:

²Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: ³Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; ⁴Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies; ⁵Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Good things like waking up at 5 a.m. and having time for quiet after seeing to the recruits.