on feeling aggrieved

I’ve been feeling aggrieved lately.

Years serving under the colours as it were and now that I’ve left abruptly, I have little to show for it: depleted finances, a dragging degree I’ve long since lost interest in, a handful of wistful photos, and a winding, misty path ahead.

I feel like I’m owed something for all I’ve done. Why haven’t You rewarded me commensurately? Aren’t You the great provider?

And all of a sudden I’m a victim of injustice. Society, church, school, and God have not delivered as I have delivered. Where is my reward? Continue reading “on feeling aggrieved”

on truth and blame

We’re at a delicate moment right now.

Now that the spectre of human extinction has passed – though there may yet be dark days ahead for many countries – we’re approaching the recovery phase, and most sensationally, the planning-who-to-tar-and-feather-for-this-whole-fiasco phase.

Two things we should think about looking ahead:

Disinformation is here to stay. Given that world leaders and state apparatuses at large have been guilty of this for the past five years or so, it’s not surprising at all that the sword of untruth has been wielded these past few months to silence dissent and rally wavering political foundations.

One thing though is now different. Continue reading “on truth and blame”

flood

How do you act when the world is ending?

I imagine that when the flood comes, we all, one way or another, like to see ourselves as Noah. We stand tall, we have the answers.We have the bigass boat. We’re Kipling’s man in the storm, we’ll weather it while everyone else loses their minds. Continue reading “flood”

on the ditch at Dachau

On the edge of Dachau concentration camp is a concrete ditch, about 6 feet across and 6 deep, steeply angled. Two barbed wire fences separate this ditch (which in turn separated the rest of the camp) from the outside world. One imagines a fearful night where a prisoner, desperate for escape or wanting it all to just end (or both), hurls himself across the ditch, scrambling up, only to entangle himself on the wire. Then comes the alarm’s banshee wail, angry shouts, frantic barking, then the crack of rifles, then nothing.

And while it seems some of the prisoners did this just to end it all, clearly the vast majority of prisoners didn’t. I can’t presume to know why, but I would say this at least affirms human life, even if one is forced to live it in hell on earth. Even living through daily torture, suffering, and humiliation, the prisoners treated life as if it were the most important thing. One more bite of stale bread. One more attempt not to get another beating. One more resigned but brave climbing into the cramped bunks at night, ready for the next day. Despite it all, life was treated by the prisoners as precious. And given that this is how most people in most places at most times treat life, it is probably true.

So it really boggles the mind when any ideology, any group, or any system treats life, or certain people’s lives, as if it weren’t precious.

on the truth in Hong Kong

Hong Kong, my home, has seen better days. Protests, demonstrations, street violence, bomb plots, conspiracy theories of all shapes and colours, have shaken us all.

One side claims to fight for human rights and freedom, the other claims to fight for stability and order. I haven’t committed myself to either side despite the horrors of the last month or so, but here is what I make of it all:

We are, all of us, focusing on the wrong fight. Continue reading “on the truth in Hong Kong”

on the naturalness of death

Growing up in the 90s first in Canada, then in a westernised bubble in Hong Kong, I heard this idea a lot: death is natural, it’s just another stage of life. It sounds sage, it sounds nice, and reliable people say it – Mama Gump and Mufasa among others.

I heard it again tonight at a funeral service for a family friend. ‘We know that death is just another part of life,’ the priest told us. It’s ok, please feel better.

My buddy didn’t. The deceased was his uncle. He looked down at his feet as he told me ‘He got baptised before I was even born. I’ve never heard him talk about church even once. What am I supposed to feel about this?’ Continue reading “on the naturalness of death”

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