The Nazi Inside

I've been hearing the word "evil" being thrown around a lot since the Newtown, Connecticut shooting. We are quick to assign meaning of "evil" to the perpetrators of mass shootings, rapists, killers, and everyone except for ourselves. Above is a picture taken in 1941 of a Christmas party Hitler threw for his generals. We  often see these Nazis for example as pure evil, in fact their actions were cruel, inhumane, and evil. However, are these men and women any different than us? Would we had the guts to stand up to Hitler? To not join the Hitler youth? In fact, according to the Stanley Milgram experiments we are all easily capable of equal evil to those in the past. Even the best of us are not immune. For centuries, Christians have been considered slavery as not necessarily evil. Some even used scripture to justify slavery for centuries.

Yes, the killer committed an absolutely reprehensible crime. He robbed the families and the world of  the lives of these people with entire futures ahead of them. But is this shooter any different than us? Could we commit the same crime if we were born with a mental disability, prone to violent episodes? Or what would happen to our moral characters if we were sexually abused, raped, or forced to do indecent acts?

As Gandalf says, "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends."

In fact, the shot really reminds us not of just the moral decline of America, nor that we've taken prayer out of schools, but the fact that we are sinful human beings, prone to wander from the fold of God. We aren't any different than the smiling Nazis eating at a Christmas dinner because we could have easily be twisted into one of them.

All we have to do is see others as sub-human, as totally devoid of goodness, or hope, and darkness and evil has won and taken over our hearts. If we see others are mere animals or a bothersome insect, we would not hesitate to wipe them off the surface of the earth in an instant. We shouldn't be so quick to judge others, but judge ourselves first.

Doors

Doors
I met my death
with kerosene lamps
  a flood of lights
  and dancing shadows
 the creaking of floorboards
  dust collector
  gathering all the nations
   and these words
  are the tantamount to nothing
  in the insufferable heat
 to wake
 to all lies as you lie down
   an urgency
  to break wishbones
  I always got the short end
  dread hanging like icicles frozen on your cloak
  day after day
planning, scheming
 the sharp, severing every finite calculation
  feasting on partial birthed fleshed revelations
      the ugly truth
 in plain sight
  our trajectories
  are encircling like vultures
   carrion for fresh meat
 ready to eat
 moist choices
  blue, red, green doors
  surround me
  their brass handles to grasp
  they're refreshingly cold and solid
 which one do we choose?
 Or do these doorways
  implant some energy which expands, revolves, and embeds in us
  which cannot be forgotten, but to be emulating our dreams
  to remind us of
  a hope (or folly)
  a brightly wavering anthem
 sung or spoken
   Which should I open?

Realization

A realization
   before the introduction
  we fall graceful
 to the sordid ground
  not a sound was made
 as the glass shattered
  such a metanoia
 so easily seen
  vastly underestimated
  I ran before the crowd
 and shouted out loud
  but I was unheard
 a mute's song
 words spoken in a vacuum
 my vitality shrunken
  we caught resistance
  as we fell from the atmosphere
 surface tension
  burning sensation
   I had to excuse my self
  as the conflagration consumed me
   We both held out our hands
 as the even the last bit was taken from me
  to err is to be human
  I guess I'm the most human
 
   

Blood Workings of White Privilage

 I walked around 20 minutes to the local walk-in clinic down the street from my home. Immediately upon entering a flood of faces surrounded me, a crowd of patients who didn't look very patient at all. The general demographics of the area are poor immigrants, women with colorful head coverings, 90's looking wind breakers, two-year old baby girls greedily sucking on pacifiers. There's only a lone white man, and I'm not sure if he's Syrian or white. Above are harsh florescent lightening and I wonder if the three secretaries sitting crouched over files and computer monitors mind or are too preoccupied with the next phone call or customer. A man wearing corduroys  is speaking in a thick British-English Indian saying "definitely" about nothing particularly important. I mean the clinic has already broken a thousand atmospheric stereotypes for walk-in clinics. It's well-lighted, I haven't heard any SARS muffled coughs, no shrieking babies, no flies hovering over old-men, no dust-caked windows.

 I wonder what would happen if I was a mobster  neck-deep debt came in with a bleeding warning.  I would entering furiously bleeding on the carpet with a thumb in a pickle jar, begging for the doctor to reattach my shriveling limb, lest I wouldn't be able to hitchhike ever again.  See I grew up in a white suburban neighborhood where I'm more familiar with couchy waiting rooms, floor lighting,  with month-old beauty magazines, children toys which whisper "No you're not too old to play with me," and Thomas Kinkade paintings serenely hanging on color coordinated walls. There's a drug store or variety store directly attached to the clinic, which seems like a faux pas to me.  I wonder if I should visit it after, but I decide against it because I don't have a coin in my pocket and I'm technically still unemployed.

An Iranian dark hair, white bleached women in her 40's breaks my reverie by calling out my name. She doesn't smile or say a word to me, but I follow her down the white hallways into a closet-sized room. Implicitly she stands there and prepares the syringes back turned to me and I ask, "Should I sit down?" She nods and I obey sitting on  a chair that has two boomerang arm rests and wait until she's ready. I try to relax, glad of my lack of fear of needles because I see the number of glass vials for my blood. I try to break the icy atmosphere by stating a well-known fact, "There a lot of people here today." "Yes," she brusquely responds. She doesn't bite onto my weak social cue for further conversation. I figure it's the "all business and no social" attitude of many middle-eastern, so I relent to silence and contemplation. She asks for my forearms, sizes-up my right arm but decides to go for my left arm telling to make a fist. I make a fist, breathing, letting the needle to slide into my green looking vein. I try to be manly, refusing to think about the pain, but instead focus on the blood flooding into the vials she's filling. If she starting salivating I would declare she was a vampire, but she doesn't say anything or look at me. She doesn't even comment on my lanky arms where doctors usually are glad that they can easily prick. It's an oil well for the blood drive. I just sit there child-like, contemplating what the gooey white stuff at the bottom of the vials. She's finally done and she unties the elastic band freeing my circulation and pushes a cotton ball on the hole and puts some tape on like it's a science project. She mutters something and hands me a cup. I realize that she wants my urine, and wonder if my bladder is full because I went to the bathroom just 30 minutes ago. I go into the bathroom, fill the cup up and I barely get an inch of warm lemonade pee out. Handing it back to her, I wonder if it's sufficient enough for anything. I leave, jealous eyes glued to my back, walking back home. Perhaps those just specters in my head, conjured out of my self interest believing I should have priority. I did schedule an appointment, I deserve to be pandered, to make small-talk with nurses. Perhaps my ideal of medical procedures isn't entirely justified or correct. Maybe there's something wrong with me and not with how other cultures do things. Although I'm Asian and mostly definitely not white, one can still have white privilege way of thinking. Believing you should have the priority, that as the customer you should be satisfied. It's quite an American, Western ideal of entitlement which allows people to jaywalk unthinkingly across streets thinking everyone else will watch out for you.  Maybe we have to watch out for the cars.

Naked As We Came

It was the summer of 2007 and some friends from the city of Cranston came to Goddard Park to hang out. We were laying on the grassy knoll looking up at the gorgeous blue sky and feathery clouds move by. It was strange summer for all of us because many of our youth group was just starting to intermingle, the EG (East Greenwich) and the Cranston bunch starting going out to eat more, going to movies together, going to one another's houses, etc. I mean the state of Rhode Island is small, but even a 15-20 minute drive on I-95 was a big deal. K, one of my friends who is currently in the Czech Republic, was talking about nature and how everything seemed "so green" to him. It surprised me because I had grown up in a relatively suburban town. I always interacting with nature, whether in my backyard or when I ran in Goddard Park for cross country. I would spend hours in the park just running the trails, that by that time I knew most of them. I enjoyed looking up at the sentinel trees above me, the sloping paths running up and down, and the beach where the Atlantic Ocean lapped gentle on the sand.

It never occurred to me that I would miss the wilderness so much, or nature so much until I moved to the big city of Toronto. Not only do I miss nature, but I miss living animals that I'm so fond of. For some reason I always had an attachment to cats and dogs. Cats, even the grumpy and withdrawn ones would come to trust me. Dogs always seemed to love me, and whenever I would go to my friends' houses I would always be scratching the back of their ears, or the stomachs. I think it came down to my own calm and relaxing demeanor, animals can instantly sense a person's personality just by your presence. And they know when you're afraid of you. If you're too pushy, and you want to pet any animal they can instantly become defense, running away from you. But if you give them time, they naturally come towards you and eventually gaining your trust.

I miss having a tank full of fish swimming around in little to no gravity. I always wondering how strange it would be to be a fish who looks out at the world of "oxygen" while living in a world where you know you could stay alive and move anywhere you could please. Fish always had some calm effect on me, especially when I fed them and you could see their little mouths breaking the water to nibble on the flakes on the surface. Maintaining the tank was hard work, and most of the time my father took care of them, but it was worth just having a tank to be near a nonhuman organism.

I hope that we don't forget about living and growing things around us because we have to understand that they are a lot like us too. What I mean by this is, that even animals need to be shown love and need to be taken care of. I've had turtles, rabbits, hamsters, gerbils, birds, salamanders, and frogs. We had to clean their tanks, take them out for walks sometimes (the rabbits for instance and the birds flew wildly around the house pooping everywhere), and show them respect and dignity even if they are animals not as intelligent as us.

I hope we can still feel captivated by the vivid red strips on a poison dart frog, or the downy soft fur in the back of a rabbit's neck, or the intricacies of spider's web. I think these all reveal to us God's magnificent hand upon all these living things. I hope that we can find ways not to distance ourselves from the living earth, from the dirt and ground that gives life to all the fruits and vegetables that we eat.

We're all interconnected with the earth no matter how much we try to separate ourselves from nature, with all our big houses, our climate contained bubbles we live in. Or even the sad fact that we have to look at the weather forecast on the internet instead of stepping outside or opening a window for a fresh breeze of the outdoors to disrupt our orderly filtered lives.

I can't tell you how me times I dream about living in the wilderness, off the land like what our ancestors use to do thousands of years ago. Perhaps it's a tad bit idealistic, and unpractical, but it's a lifestyle of sleeping underneath the stars, and feeling the change of weather, and the rawness of nature without any modern day conveniences that draws me. Or it's the part where I realize that I'm just a small part of this world, the insignificance that every human feels when they stand before the Grand Canyon that I want to feel, to understand, to contemplate until I loose myself to nature. Sadly I don't know if we see the world with wonder anymore, and we would rather experience life in digital media.

I hope I can go on a road trip, or camping trip one day for a month or two with some friends to experience God's creation. Every time I have gone camping or been in nature for several hours I feel rejuvenated by the simplicity of nature itself and the cycles of life and death before me. So I encourage you to go out to your local park to see the "movie" that God is playing for us 24/7 free of charge. We're just not paying attention when the blatant beauty is staring us right in our face telling us that there's a world around, beyond the news of man, that is nature itself. It's just asking us to discover it, to enjoy in it, to respect it.

Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden were naked, not only in the physical sense but in a spiritual sense as well. They were totally saturated in God's presence, because they could see God in all of nature. They had a direct communication with God, partly because Adam and Eve "ruled over" or "took care" of the animals. Nature renders us all naked to the realities of our true natures. The fact that we are largely dependent on God for our daily needs as much as the animals, plants, and insects are dependent on God for food and shelter.

That's why I enjoy gardening so much right now. Because I'm coming to realize that is where we will find our humanity and a lot of what we were really created to do, which is to live and enjoy this earth that God has created. There's nothing like the feeling of freezing cold water of a stream or the feeling of dirt on your hands. It brings us back to the fundamental nature of survival that we so badly need in this sanitized world of chlorine and cubicles. This is a world we're made to enjoy.

chairs

keep on returning back to that chair
born out of some misplaced emotion
hardly just yesterday, rambled on and on in some covert operation
kind of mulled it over before taking over me
wanted it so badly, to boast in my ability
sang with the sirens all the way downtown
collapsed all my hopeless abilities
plagued with the inevitable
these tempered birds do not lie
no longer any arguments to justify
these cell phones chatter abundantly
some superficial identity
mock those whom are no different than me
life on pause so perpetual
the cedar trees stand so ineffable
my ransacked house so empty
The mother sang her lullaby
where I kept on trying but kept on dying
and if this be the death of me
then let it be quick and painless to serenity

face

your face was like a sunrise
or a head emerging, dripping wet, the hair like a thousand strings, knocked, intertwined, layered over and over for centuries on end,
and this overgrowth has been growing, teeming, a wild garden,
and you think you've been condemned to sink
want to see it all fall through the cracks
and the steam rises, the fires ascend
towards that heavenly realm, while we are earth bound creatures
cursed to be for thousands of years
a worm crawling in the sand
when we see the birds fly
we wish we could be up there
but they come down and eat our bodies

To dance

Oh to hope and see
those flowers growing from your hair
such sleek elegance
a happy turn of events
what I was lacking I now have
to be one with my Lord
to see his beauty
such truthful embrace
to hug and feel warmth
to kiss and be loved
to love
is emotion,
is depth,
is clarity,
is to be free,
to be elastic
or water
to rest
in a humble abode
freedom to dance
wildly, without cause or reflection
we were knit together to dance
my footsteps
are disappearing
into the swirl of the universe
into the eyes of the one
that I had loved all along

soon I'll disappear into your glass globe
and we'll look to the creator and i'll cover it all
we'll yell man over board
shift to starboard to gaze across the valley
admit that we haven't got it at all
I was born as a pastor's boy
lift the flames to our eyes
I'm not feeling those footsteps anymore
now's its a toast to bad news
raise our cracked glasses
dream into another dream
the pain was real and then I woke up
felt my leg it was still
we go witch hunting looking for a sacrificial lamb
when we're on the lam from the law
collect soda caps for currency
barter for a bar of soap
wait for the vacant throne
I think the crowned was a clone

A rush of blood to the head

what ecstatic delinquency
bring out that teenage spirit
to want to travel the world
and remove a brick from the Berlin wall
you've got some nerve coming here
in some whimsical vengeance
they're making bon fires
flaming torches held out in delight
everyone's withdrawing in freight
and soon to draw their knives
they need the taste of iron on their blades
and the opposing side have their weapons drawn
seeking for a reason for heart beating
we've all got these portraits of ourselves
the end of the world on a camera phone
because someone's gotta remember
And the stars will fall flaming bright
such beauty and destruction
a perfect start to a revolution
the beginning of a movie
or a story to tell our children
if our children existed in the future
hope their meals will be more than ashes
cause I want to teach my son to ride a bike
and my daughter how to paint
Where's the green grass gone?
Now it's a stale building
Where's my future?
Where's my children's?