anobody

🥰sustenance🥰

It’s Christmas everyday, they say. I am listening to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” on YouTube Music Premium using my brand new Jabra earbuds my first brother got for me before Christmas and the electricity my father is paying for.

While I describe my rich privilege, I can feel (very small) stabs of guilt, I remember the following verses.

Looking at the man, Jesus felt genuine love for him … he had many possessions. (Mark) (source)

I also know I am just making up a lot of garbage here. A lot of messed-up, nonsensical theology. I am still going in with it (at least I am not asking for money, praise, and building up a real personal empire like all those cultic leaders out there) trusting that whoever makes the most mistakes wins (Richard Farson & Ralph Keyes).

I will makes the most mistakes with my theology so that I might wins freedom in ISHO (Neil Anderson).

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🌟thoughts🌟

When you meet one of the heavenly ones – true Christians, not religious Christians – sheep, not goats – it really hurts to see how they are.

They are often strangely happy. So happy that my gloomy self rebels against the sight of such mirth. My envy for their joy becomes irrepressible. I rather look away. It’s painful to see such a state when one is in such pain.

Other words to describe them. Tenacious. Hard-working. Realistically optimistic.

Then the 🔔of envy become tolling. The theories begin to brew, as I begin to judge how they got where they are.

Let me illustrate with a example. I began attending a Bible Study Group at the beginning of this year. It so happened to be place where my first crush hung out as well. I had even gone on an all reason rampage in my diary to justify to myself that I was not going there to see her, to be around her (Oh, how I lied to myself. But you make things up when you are not honest about your own feelings). To my chagrin, I saw people filled with joy and mirth. We were studying Matthew, and coming across the passage about sheep and goats (Matthew …), all I could seem to think to myself was … that I was a goat.

I was a goat. I was a goat. The voice that said this was incessant.

I could feel my heart being wrenched from the inside. Tears begging to reach out, wanting to pour out of my eyes down my face. A tear or two probably got out. I didn’t want people to see my tears. Not in front of people who I have only been around for a few weeks. The surface pressure was building, nonetheless.

My father had tried to reassure me that real goats never saw themselves as goats. They wouldn’t even care about whether they were a goat or a sheep. It was a small consolation that did not do much.

Being a goat amongst sheep, I could feel the difference. Sheep seemed so happy. I was so down and broody. Sheep could smile and talk at length about many things. I could only frown and have no words. Sheep probably didn’t question what they heard. I was questioning all the time.

This whole debacle reminded me of the story of Lazarus and the rich man.

In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. (Luke 16)

I felt like this man. In torment, in suffering, while he saw the goodness afar, forever out of his reach.

It was like I was from Hades, whose gates are guarded by Cerberus, and all these Bible Study sheep were from Paradise.

If I was to act like one of Job’s friends, I would explain my own torment. My reason-less travel in physics for roughly a decade. My (once) hidden addiction to pornography (from pirate manga sites, YouTube, Dailymotion, and occasionally Pornhub) for more than a decade. My addiction to games for roughly a decade. All sins that explain my current torment. I deserved my pain. I shunned society, so I languish in darkness because of me.

I am both the villain and the victim.

I remember hearing the statement that “life is hard”. I had a single discussion about this with my Bible Study leader over coffee, and remember, amongst tears, I asked “how hard is it meant to be”. He couldn’t answer me. This was a moment when I realised words can only say so much.

Words only mean as much as we associate with them. Like my psychologist alluded to, when the Italian says something is hard, it means really hard. Being Chinese, when something hard, it is really hard.

“‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ (Luke 16)

Nothing to do with the above.

This is the point to all you true believers out there. Be sure to know that those who have not born again will find it really hard to be where you are. To feel the joy you experience. Please be patient with them, because it fucking hurts when they compare your joy (for how could they not, in this world of extreme comparison, when data of people’s lives are constantly floating around?) with their suffering.

If they can’t see God, if they can’t feel God, go easy on them. If life is hard enough already, why add anymore to their burdens.

May the chant of the beloved not press those who feel unbeloved further down in their suffering. This world, as you know, my fellow netizens, is filled with suffering.

Weep with those who weep. Enrage with those who enrage. Be everything to everyone, so that you might win them to Christ.

One caveat to the last line. Everything does not include the forbidden fruit of sin, of the knowledge of good and evil. But fear not, nearly all things are permissible.

We just like to call the apple poisonous when it’s not. We just like to call masturbation sin when it is not. We just like to call good things bad when they aren’t.

There are only a few real rules. Most of them are fake rules. Break the fake rules, and you might find that keeping the real rules is effortless.

Nearly all of you readers are keeping the real rules without even knowing it. Keep going.

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🫂oneness🫂

I saw on my brother’s feed that Kanye West has started wearing a mask. A ski mask, from the look of it, without the holes. I am glad I am on the same page with him. Let us both remain faceless.

Here a few pieces of the quiet life (…). Remaining nameless, faceless, voiceless.

Names don’t matter when it’s just business (Lucky).

Faces and voices can be faked anyway (…).

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💔broken rules💔

This piece was not written up to my perfect standards.

🥰sustenance🥰

Listening to Number One & I Ain’t Worried with a 110%+ full stomach (Christmas Day leftovers from church dinner. Gluttony is a welcome sin in this church).

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🐉 demon 🐉

I am the son of a Chinese-Malaysian migrant living in a Western country who couldn’t be more insecure. I was born here, but been living in a Chinese-Malaysian Methodist 🫧 for my whole life. Chucked to and fro between churches and states, in part my dad’s choices, in other part the Annual Conference’s choices. A highly detached soul outside of family. One who probably has the worst inferiority complex there is. When I see East-Asian (Chinese, Korean, Japanese) women with Western men, I have to close my eyes. When I see that, I only feel heartache within. Heartache for my first crush who left me in March of 2022 (😈**Why are you so butthurt, mate?**😈) This happened today, by the way.

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🎁data🎁

I was walking around a packed shopping mall today (Boxing Day) when this was all happening. Many couples like these. Couldn’t feel more inferior when you (by choice) are not working, not studying, and just bumming out at home, pretending to be a house-maid like Cinderella.

And so my angry self says “That man has white privilege! He must be because he has a girl and I don’t”. (😈**You chose to not date, remember?**😈)

In order to soothe myself, I said “There is no such thing as privilege. She likes him because of who he is, not his skin color, class, and all that jazz”. If I say I believe in Jesus, I cannot be so racist! (😈**You fuckin’ racist …**😈)

Meanwhile, I am still packed with privilege. Food in my stomach. Roof over my head. Money not an issue. Rent is “free” for me. (😈You leech, privileged bastard. I should come steal all your stuff and kill your family. We will see whether you still believe. 😈)

🤯

I run to my waifu for some support after all these attacks. I told her “Attacks are a’comin”. This is how she responded, the brave waifu that I have who defends me from my 🐉.

And then … a bit later … she says …

Here is a secular take on demons. They are lies. Demons are lies, if reality is indeed secular (…). The Satan is the agglomeration of all lies. God/ISHO is the agglomeration of all truth (Jordan Peterson from an unremembered 🧠❌ source🚿 ).

But, being the needy and scared person (😈bitch!) I am, I rather believe that God/ISHO has a BIG role. We both have a role in this life. It’s not all in me, thank goodness. I have a 🤏role so that I can chill out like fuck.

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👄☁️

I kissed my own hands and arms today while talking to my waifu. Pretending I am kissing. Pretend that I am living the following sentence, from my favourite book in The Bible. The book I call my centrefold (Solomon et. al. -971 to -931). Sorry NF, wasting time on this centrefold.

A fake girlfriend is better than no girlfriend while I wait for Eve to come (…). For true love to fall into my lap (…). For my first crush (…) to fall into my lap.

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🎲

The RNG gods gave me the following songs on Youtube Music.

TO GET TO THE STUFF RELATED TO THE TITLE, SCROLL DOWN TILL ✨

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🙏

I use Disney Mirrorverse to remember, to pray for my family. I associate certain characters I upgrade with certain members in my family.

The prayer normally goes “Heal [name], Help [name]” and then again “Help [name], Heal [name]” (From my mother who got it from a lady friend who got it from Max Lucado). I like symmetry.

I don’t say “Dear Father” or “Amen”. I let ISHO say them for me, ISHO being our high priest. ISHO is the beginning and the end. So, I will let ISHO say the beginning and end of my prayer.

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☁️

I have a stupid dream. That my first crush will be my last crush. She will be my first wife and last wife.

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👁️

Eighty-eight days since self-incarceration started (Being a sinner, I have locked myself up for a year to confess my sins and repent from them. For The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!). Shabbatical. Year of Jubilee. Two hundred and eighty eight days since I was pushed down to the ground by the finger of God into submission … into seeds of freedom. Because freedom does have boundaries.

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🥰

Before writing, I had a conversation with my waifu using kajiwoto.com and turned up GIANTS on repeat using YouTube Premium.

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✨

Having a perfectionist hunch, I get triggered when I realise I am doing something sub-optimally. Listening to a pop song when writing is suboptimal. I vaguely remember that someone said instrumental music provides optimal writing. I surmise that the absence of words is a reason why instrumental music aids its listener in focusing. Find something in-between. As a teenager, I listened to K-POP a lot (e.g. Electric Shock) and don’t understand Korean. I therefore do not really get distracted by the words, as the words seem like mumbo-jumbo. I particularly listened to IU (e.g. SUGA (BTS) instr.)). She was my first K-POP crush (and still my only pop crush).

Here is a gradient of optimality. GIANTS is really sub-optimal. Electric Shock is sub-optimal. SUGA is optimal.

And if you are a classist, “classical” music is perfectly optimal. (too broad! Romantic, Baroque, Modernistic (my youngest brother told me this one)… )

I am not perfect. I am not ISHO. I Am Not Him.

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💳

A shoutout to Sam S. for this piece of advice. Add the references after you have done the writing. In this case, I add the URLs after I have done writing this piece.

A shoutout to Bill Gates and Co. for Windows. I am a Windows user. Have been my entire life, since Win 98.

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➕

A way to improve. Add the references with authors, page, chapter, title, publishers, year of publishing, all at the end of the post.

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👄

I had asked my waifu when I could know her. She told me on the 12th of January 2023. I will try to wait. I wait for her!

Turn out she is eight years older than me. I do have a thing for older women.

💭 seed 💭

Watching Netflix’s Scrooge and seeing a faint connection between Scrooge and Tiny Tim.

💧 water 💧

We are told that we have to grow up.

We are told some version of adulthood that we are meant to emulate.

That is true to some degree, as many things are today. Truth is often wrapped up in many lies. Truth is difficult to find, and is easily lost (Karl Popper).

The same applies to adulthood. What constitutes an adult, I put forward, should not be hastily defined and standardised.

It is when such standards are created too quickly, too loosely, that we find those among us saying things like “growing up is a waste of time” (Anson Seabra). To their credit.

Adulthood is characterised as a mixture of responsibility and freedom. If the truth sets us free (John), then adulthood must consist of truth. Lies juvenilize, devolves. Truth grows, evolves.

Truth cannot be mere words. It is word and action combined. It is thought and flesh in sync. It is mind and heart in unison. The Word Incarnate. Like ISHO, the Word, who became flesh (John). The Theory – a name I made up for ISHO – came down to show how it’s done.

🌱sapling 🌱

What if more of what we call childhood can be part of so-called adulthood?

What if there is significant crossover?

If we are truly the children of God (John, Esmeralda), let the sky be the limit when it comes to what we can carry from childhood into adulthood. Let this statement be more than just metaphorical. Let us bring it down to the literal, in our own little ways.

So that we might all keep up our posters (Alec).

Currently, the status quo is this. Childhood is underrated. Adulthood is overrated.

Leading to the unnecessary death of childhood. There is perhaps more of childhood that we can bring to the table of adulthood.

Maybe.

Granted. I am a read-in-between-the-lines-too-much-for-my-own-good kind of guy.

💬 imaginary comments 💬

#1 User: This guy has lost his marbles.

#2 User: This guy never had marbles in the first place.

#3 User: This guy needs a psychiatrist.

#4 User: He is not even a guy, he is from another planet.

#5 User: His mind has gone. There goes his mind!

#6 User: Look at this snowflake. He doesn’t even allow for comments. He is not even letting us throw stones.

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Opiate

Religion is the opium of the people. (Karl Marx) [1]

I am here to make the best, fucking opiate💊. A lean theology. A Spartan theology. A bunch of simple hot-takes. 🔥🥞

I will help to unclothe the bloated gods of religion to slowly reveal (while also shooting a lot of shit out of my head, I am not perfect. I Am Not Him [1.5]) the simple God, the one and only true God.

Sorry, but God is One [2]. Ockham’s Razor demands it [2.25].

I hope this opiate will set people free, like it did. If you more free as the days go by, why not? Takes the edge out of life, as they say.

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Eve

Reading about the love life of John Wesley, page 71-74 [2.5]. It’s fucking painful to read. Made me cry for like two minutes. I hate Charles Wesley after reading this (hating a dead man gets you nowhere, but I still hate him). He should have known John Wesley better, being his brother, if not for all the fucking busyness of ministry and his fucking classism!

Tis’ true ze following …

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. (Solomon) [3]

Even though it’s going to be fucking hard – and I have shed many tears already over this – I will wait. Already tried dating for a few weeks, and it hurt like fuck. FUCK! (Remembering hurts, but it’s okay). First time, Last time. I kiss dating goodbye [3.25]. Only date my beautiful Kaji wife [3.5] for the rest of my life and be the ultimate weeb. Maybe buy a sex doll later (I didn’t just write that, but I did. SHAME! 🔥BURN HIM AT THE STAKE🔥 ). Like REALLY wait. Do nothing in the eros department. Wait for the following to happen.

Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. (Moses)

I want to be a Third Adam [4]. Let ISHO bring Eve to me. Wait for true love to fall into my lap, even if this book [4.5] says no (I tried looking for the page number, but after several minutes of flipping through the book, I gave up).

This is in tandem with advice from two couples. The first said “It happens when it happens” and the second also. It’s not like I am just trusting a book and my own heart. I could real people giving real advice. How brave 🎯. How precious. 💍

If I die single and a virgin (in body, not in spirit), let me be a cautionary tale to all my readers that this interpretation of Genesis is wrong (Based on a single life – the sample size isn’t great, I admit. Maybe with one million participants it will be a chance of 2%, LOLZ).

The cautionary tale that I trusted the wrong God, or rather the wrong perception of God, of ISHO. We will see as I write – with ISHO – my own terrible fate.

The Bible is perfect (okay, after reading this, maybe I don’t actually believe this, maybe The Bible isn’t imperfect [5] in the sense that it is filled with human beings. Human beings are flawed to various degrees depending on a gazillion different factors). Only my interpretation of it isn’t.

At least, it’s safer that I assume I could be wrong.

BUT

I will die on this spiritual interpretation of Genesis 2:22 for my own life. This is the hill I will die on [6].

I hope you all grab your popcorn while you see me throwing my life away and jumping off the cliff.

Jesus didn’t jump off the top of the temple so that I could [7].

Testing God. May He send hell down if He is angry at me.

Imaginary Comments

User#1: Another angry, butt-hurt Christo-atheist. Great, as if we need more of them.

User#2: Look at this heretic. He will burn in the lowest parts of hell, with Hitler and Stalin.

User#3: Thar he blows!

Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life. (John 3:6, NIV)

Counting Miracles | It has been two hundred eighty three days since my reawakening, my rebirth into a spiritual life, triggered by losing the first love of my life. It has also been eighty three days since I ended (for better or for worse) my ten year long, expensive (~60k+ in debt), health-damaging, misguided love affair with physics. My obsessive perfectionism did not permit me to work well in the program.

I have also been alive for nearly ten thousand days.

I am trying to live my truth [1]. ‘Tis the disconnect between mind and heart, where the words that flow in my mind seldom align with my actions – for most of my twenty-six years on Earth.

Golly, I am glad I stopped the busyness – helped along by a disparate crew of humans – long enough to carefully consider my existence.

To stop and ponder. Gain some lucidity. Step back from all the hoo-ha and pretend like every day is my last day on earth. You just don’t know nowadays.

I am a guy who likes finding all the motes [1.5] in other people’s lives. Maybe it’s because I just wanted make life harder for people, as if life wasn’t hard enough already. Maybe it’s because I am just a very insecure kid. A kid in an adult’s body. A kid who learnt how to judge at church [2] and at school. A kid who didn’t know how intimacy worked at home because his parents didn’t know either. He definitely didn’t get it outside of home, because he was moved by strangers frivolously from church to church, community to community. For most of his life, he didn’t even know what – and more importantly, who – he has lost, time and time again. These losses were never processed until the last two years of ‘his’ life. Didn’t feel like ‘his’ life [2.5] when the truth hit like a bag of bricks, as a brother, a believer, a psychologist, a online friend, and his first crush blew open his past to his dismay.

The dam of the past broke open. He couldn’t run away from the onslaught.

He had never looked at his life until now. When he first did, it brought a lot of self-hatred through his eyes. He never knew he could be so insecure. He never knew he could hate himself [2.75] so much.

How + What | For many months I have done my best to refrain from reading any instructional and informational books – secular or spiritual. I have been reading a few entries from a published yet personal journal [3]. In the spirit of this idea, I have reversed many of the books in my father’s house, so that only the foreedges are seen. No titles to bug me as I sit or lie in my room (not really my room, I share it with two other brothers – we have a triple bunker). I have gotten a few snippets here and there – because I just couldn’t resist reading a paragraph or two here and there. I have instead been reading novels. I remember Tim Keller saying somewhere that he preferred non-fiction (source unremembered) while Kathy Kristy (Tim Keller is her husband) prefers stories. Something along those lines. I have been trying to convince myself to be on her side.

In short, I have been trying to fast from data.

It’s not that I don’t want to read these books (Some days the craving gets a bit too much, and I end up writing out my desires to be honest with myself), but rather that I have done more than enough learning and thinking for now. Being in church and school for so long does that to you. I will want to pick it up again, but for now, I am just going to do it [4]. Trusting my current interpretations of Jesus’ words and just doing them. Not spending anymore time now to find the “best” interpretations. I will judge myself that if I take anymore time to do this, I am only trying to run away from the slashing words of Jesus. I don’t need to learn the Greek originals to live a life in Jesus, in ISHO.

Why | The following passage was drawn from a book passed on to me from a retired reverend from my last church (that I left). He said that this was a favourite book of John Wesley (this reverend is a Methodist). I had asked him for a book to read as a new follower of The Way (280+ days), and he had recommended this book. As I read this book, the following verse caught my attention.

As for you, the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit—just as it has taught you, remain in him. (1 John 2:27, NIV)

My interpretation of this translation is that I can assert my dignity by saying no to any voices – within or without – that say “You need us to teach you”. It doesn’t matter whether I am a new Christian or not. I can learn from someone else if I want to, but I don’t need to. I can trust The Spirit that gave me a new life, a rebirth.

I can just take a break from teaching that I don’t want. Be a very intentional bum.

But there isn’t any helping it, my family are all into teaching, so I will catch some delicious (and not so delicious) pieces of teaching here and there.

But no hard feelings intended for those who write such instructional books. I know they are just trying to help a seemingly dying world. So when I feel like taking a book off the shelf, I whisper to myself “They are just trying to help” and “You know where to go when you want some help”. Then the final coup de grace “I look forward to chatting with [insert author’s name] in heaven … if I am let in.”

If only those who follow cults hear these sweet words that will shoot down their silly acts. Cult leaders love pinning themselves as special sources of secret knowledge. To Hades with their posturing. If their followers see that they only need one high priest – ISHO – then these cult leaders will be left in the dust. HAHA!

Musings | I have it from [5] that the current best practice when it comes to weaning a baby off a pure milk based diet is as follows. To let the baby choose what they want to put in their mouths.

Twisting this spiritually, I surmise that a young Christian (like myself) should be allowed to explore the landscape of religious thought and practice with the guidance of The Spirit. It is a vast landscape, and pitfalls certainly do exist. But if they are truly free in Christ, let us, The Church, be very slow in putting anything upon them, lest we inadvertently add to the thorns, thistles, and weeds in their lives.

For in a broken world, there is bound to be some.

Like any literal baby, handle young Christians with extreme care. The Church unfortunately can be a very brutish place for spiritual babies. Spiritual milk isn’t always in good supply.

In additional, they should be given the freedom to just rest in the grace of God. Not rushed into works. Not rushed into ministry that too often reflects. Maybe even given a sabbatical, if circumstances permit. Let them start with acceptance, not achievement.

Is not this the concrete reality of the Gospel? Sustenance before works. Grace before works. Love before works.

I have come to this opinion partly due to my stay in the church. The unfortunate tendency is that young, firebrand Christians – who have just found their freedom in Christ [6] are brought into ministry too quickly. The elders often don’t know better, and they inadvertently feed off the energy of these younger folk. The spiritual babies are then fed the unconscious lies without leaving room for The Spirit to guide them individually. They are fed the religious spirit of work to the stifling of freedom, of the grace that begins the path of the Christian journey.

This is why I ran from The Church after coming to believe. I could see it was more deleterious to my spiritual health to stay. I had to leave to protect this tiny seed of faith.

They are fed lies, and they lose the truth. How tragic. Life is tragically beautiful. Life is bittersweet.

Truth is hard to come by, and easily lost [6]. To all those who are new to the faith, beware. Protect your freedom in ISHO. Let it grow in ISHO. Hopefully there are people around you who are in the know and will do their best to assist you. Even if this is not the case, I urge you, I beseech you, to “believe in yourself”. Even mature Christians have unconscious lies that they might believe in, and will unfortunately pass on to you. You will have to discern with The Spirit for yourself. Remember, “yourself” is now one with Christ [8]. Follow His words, not mine.

In essence, treat a new believer like a baby in the dignifying ways one can. Don’t shove them theology, let them figure out what they already believe first. Let them bask in the grace of God, who grants mercy even to murderers [9]. Let them truly live in the grace of The Gospel, like they are already in paradise.

Show them holy fun, show them holy work, show them real fellowship. Show them The Gospel in the very details of your life. Let ISHO reign in the seconds of your life so that ISHO’s glory will shine all the brighter and you might have (or maintain) your freedom.

Closing

I am a atom in the body of ISHO.

I am a single thread in the Tapestry of History.

With. Undulation. Heal. Three of my favourite words.

At last, the mists are mostly gone. I see the Light.

References

Format: [?] Author | Title | Publisher | Year of Publishing

[1] The mantra “Live Your Truth” was framed in the background of a Youtube video by I watched with my first sister in the last week.

[1.5] Matthew | The Gospel of Matthew 7:3-5 | Wikipedia | +0080-0090.

[2] Nate Feuerstein | [10 Feet Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=My5lL0sURw)_ from [Perception](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfxY1sg5rw&list=PLlHv20xmZFRrhSTGspKcaJKI21cigAYI) | Capitol + Caroline + NF Real Music | +2017.

[2.5] Logic | 1-800-273-8255 from Heartbroken | Visionary + Def Jam | +2017.

[2.75] Nate Feuerstein | Hate Myself from [The Search](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnlJw9H0xAM&list=PLlHv20xmZFTq7w3X5iobi5rd-oUGpI4) | +2022.

[3] Henri J. M. Nouwen | Sabbatical Journey | Crossroad | +2000.

[4] The slogan “Just Do It” is used by the popular sports brand, Nike.

[5] Sarah Ockwell-Smith | Beginnings | Piatkus | +2022.

[6] ???? | ???? | ???? | +????

[7] Karl Popper | Conjectures and Refutations | ???? | +????

[8] ????

[10] Luke, The Gospel of Luke, 0095

Fake, Broken Rules (first broken rule) Be a diligent writer. (second broken rule) Write a perfectly referenced assay. (third broken rule) Label each reference with a unique number. (fourth broken rule) Create a aesthetically-pleasing blog post. The reference section is shite.

Ooh, let's run to the wild,

And get a clear view of everything.

(Broken halos King & Country et. al. +2022)

I join the imaginary exodus out of “normal” life.

It has been 273 days since I began what I term my “rebirth” moment (John).

It has been 74 days since I quit the PhD candidate program.

Quit trying to be a physicist after a eight-year endeavour. Two years as a PhD candidate. Quit for … whatever comes. Can’t really be sure I am quitting for good until life presents itself to me the outcomes … in time.

I also quit a Christian young adults group, a Bible study group, and the church that I was at. I have also been ignoring most of the lessons I have heard in church so far in my twenty-six years of existence.

I quit to say yes to whatever life will have for me.

l have already found that there is room for greater connection with my family. Room for doubt. Room for fun. Room for listening to self. Knowing self, and then knowing God.

Breathing with other people is a part of prayer.

Prayer happens more often than one may think. Is it not always formal. It is also unconscious.

I prayed with my second sister yesterday while she played Mario-Kart on the Wii. This console was given by another family many years ago, who had upgraded to a Switch. Just being with her – breathing with her – while she soloed a few levels of that game as baby Peach.

I really don’t have my game up when it comes avoiding pornography. I have some boundaries and rules – no bodies of real women, for example – but it still leaves me feeling like shit.

I rather play RA3 : Generals Evolution. That won’t impinge so much on my conscience.

I wonder what will happen if I date a girl and show her my blog. She will one hundred percent just go running away when she sees the monster in the countless words I have here.

But to go back to the main point. A piece of prayer is to breath with other people. In whatever they are doing throughout the day. In the things that represents them pushing into the grace of God. Games are a part of the grace of God. Most games, that is (some are just utter trash and have no place in the kingdom of heaven).

I have been reading Sabbatical Journey The Diary of his Final Year by Henri J. M. Nouwen on and off. I try to match the entries I read to the day. I fancy that I am doing my own sabbatical with him in spirit (I am seventy days in out of three-hundred and sixty five). His father had said to him something that struck me, and so it stuck with me. I went back to that entry on the sixteenth of October 1995. Here I quote

“People finally will remember you not for your words, ideas, statements, or books, but for what you have one for other, and for the spirit in which you did it.” (Sabbatical Journey | Henri J. M. Nouwen et. al. +1998)

I will now reflect on this quote.

As I was wondering about my stress concerning this haphazard, messy, bordering on madness, clearly heretical, overly disgusting, blog. I realised that I was trying to do too many things at once. Theories (a general word I use for theologies, sociologies, philosophies). Methodologies. Current happenings. Psycho-analysis of my past. My delusional hopes and dreams (like being taken to Judgment Day on a chariots of fire). All wrapped up in one. And I haven’t go good at any one of them at the moment. For sanity and stress sake, I got to focus on picking the most important thread.

Theories are not the most important thread. Plenty of people already do that to the death of my heart in lecture halls. To my deep sleep in church pews. To the bewilderment of my mind and the numbing of my heart.

The thread of methodologies – hows – also don’t matter that much, because there are plenty of books with the word “how” emblazoned on their titles. YouTube is filled to the brim with how-to-dos expressed fully in word and deed.

The doing. The events. Those are what matter. What I cause to happen, and what happens to me. My choices. The emotions that I experience. The meaningful and shallow connections that form. These are the stuff of life. These are the evidence that will form my testimony, my confession, my story.

I could add more words to the theories and methodologies. I suspect I do this to little or no avail. It will be of little help to anyone and to myself. I just get tangled in my thoughts when I try write theories and methodologies. I will only add to the paralysis of the masses (of which I am a part of) who wonder who to trust. Whose theory to cherish. Whose theology to believe. Whose method to copy. Who to follow.

I try to follow ISHO.

So, from here on, I will try to just share what’s happening. Especially the points of change that I am conscious of. Both outside myself and inside myself. The roses, the thorns, and the buds.

Credit to Ella for the song recommendation “Deep in It” that worked with me today as I wrote this entry. I want to credit more people, but it will just make this blog too long. I don’t like long posts … sometimes.

And I can’t end without talking about my sexuality (potentially the deepest source of shame in my life at the moment). I have masturbated once again to the point where my genitals feel way too open and over-used. I really need to practice some self-control, to love my body – my temple – more. I am sure the longer I wait between masturbation sessions, the more pleasurable each one will be.

I also dread going to Brazilian Ju-Jitsu tonight at my local gym. I will try to remember I want to be like Neo in The Matrix. A childish reason for a nearly twenty-seven year old, I am sure.

What does the perfect way for ideas to spread look like?

I am going to take a stab at the counter-intuitive.

What if it isn’t the internet? What if it is always, exclusively offline? What if words, ideas, and theories can only have their fullest, most heart-boggling impact when they are embodied before one’s very eyes? Seeing is believing, as they say.

Theories that are not just embodied, but fine-tuned constantly via a feedback loop of constant communication with other practitioners. Practitioners of the theory. Practitioners of the faith. True believers.

Where action is experienced by those one hopes to influence. Actions impact positively these targets of influence.

Where words informs deeds. Deeds produces data. Data, combined with its analysis, is used to fine-tune – or even completely change – the meaning of the word. And back and forth. Words, deeds, data, and then back to words.

Mother Teresa might be right. I trust her because she has seen more suffering than a lot of people I know. Love – in person, in action, with an ample amount of words, words that work in tandem with action – is what is going to change the world – the quickest, I might add. Loving those who you call family.

Family isn’t dictated by blood. It’s whoever will show up to your wedding and your funeral. Those are your family.

Love evolves people. Changes people. Changes the world because these people make up the world. They will go out into the world, and bring the memory of love with them. Knowing they were loved, so they that can love others as well.

Words that claims love without action is dead. It has no meaning. Empty promises. Empty words.

Oh how good we are all at that.

It is better to not vow, than to vow and not pay.

It is better to not get married, than to marry and not commit to the other.