Every weekend in the month of August has been exceptionally fantastic for me. During the weekdays, I would look forward to the plans I have, be it dinners, hangouts, attend churches and really do what I enjoy doing. Some weekends can be quite spontaneous and last minute organized, others more formal, still yet random. If August was a cake, this past weekend would've been the juicy red cherry on top of it. This cherry was the 'wow' factor to farewell this beautiful month. It was even more delicious than last weekend, which was my birthday weekend. So why was this weekend so special?
Last week started and ended with work. Its has become a routine for me to head to Southgate these days and when I think about how I complained about the distance two months ago, it really is nothing now when I think about it. God really did make everything work out and I'm glad. I had considered transferring to a closer location, but I really like this location of The Bay half across town and I feel there is actually so much more to be learned. If i was to quit/transfer, I wouldn't be finishing what I have started. It be cutting my experience short.
So the weekdays progressed and Friday came. Friday, one of my friends celebrated her dinner at Lazia downtown. I realize I have a lot of summer-baby-friends, so having all these birth-day celebrations is always fun. Anyhow, it was a great night of conversation, loitering in public, taking pictures at city hall, and heading to McDees after to 'bond' in our dresses over Mc-ice cream, drinks, and pie. Great destination eh?
Saturday came, I worked, and after work I dreaded having to bus to this place, but my want to go overcame my tired thinking and so I journeyed from the south to the west, got off in a neighborhood I had no knowledge of and sought out my destination after feeling quite lost: Edmonton Chinese Alliance Church. They had a worship night and had invited NEAC to join them. I've been to plenty of worship nights and I just came because I wanted worship, not thinking that an epiphany would hit me hard. Hard to the point of salt water falling from my tear ducts, all because of a realization from a song. One song. I asked myself, 'why am I crying?'
Something had become clear in my head. Since turning twenty, I've been reflecting on a lot of 'things'-mature things, future things, personal things. But this realization was on the topic of love. I don't know why this topic keeps sticking out like a sore thumb, but it just did. God was telling me through this song that I didn't need to search, it was unnecessary to think about this person, I didn't have to wait for the 'one', I didn't need to do any of that or worry about anything related to this person. Why? Because I already have the greatest love of all. We all do. I found myself saying 'I love Jesus Christ' and it became so real that night that He really does love us. Why would I need to feel I need to expect this 'ideal' guy in my life, and expect him to be that faith driven, attentive, caring, loving boyfriend when God is Love, he IS the source of love. And what if this person I've been waiting for shows up today, tomorrow or down the road? He will never, ever be that definition of love I have in mind- were all flawed. I don't need to have a mindset of waiting or seeking when I got the love I want from Jesus already. In fact, He is the definition of love and He is flawless!
But, then I was questioning myself. Why am I trying to sound all miss-so-independent and make myself sound like I'm meant to be single and don't need that 'person' in my life (ironic, because the day before a friend had asked, 'How do people know if they're meant to be single?' and we didn't have a justifiable answer) when so many people in this world are matched, dating or looking? Why do we search for love? I know its a human need to yearn for affection, and then I came up with a similar train of thought. Since God is the best love out there, He is also the best friend we can ever have. Then, why have friends right? Why make friends, why spend time with them, why look forward to be able to see them on the weekend when I've got the BEST friend already? Friends are flawed too, I have great friends that I love to talk to and spend time with, but yet... there may be that one or two traits about them I'm not so fond over. All these thoughts made me so confused and I wanted to figure this mess out in my head badly.
And then it hit me hard again. Because God loves us so much that he sent his one and only son to die for us, so that we may have eternal life. Friendship is a gift. Love relationships are a gift too. God made Eve for Adam so he could have someone there for him. It doesn't matter if you can do it on your own, God wants us to have a relationship with others be it friends or beyond that. And so, I realize I'm just very stubborn. I think about these things and deep down I want it, but then I just have to build a brick wall around those thoughts. That night God broke it all down. Shattered excuses, teared barriers, and relinquished me.
The next day, Sunday came and that night I went out with a friend whose birthday is exactly one week apart from me. So we decided to celebrate it together over dinner downtown at a delicious Greek restaurant that I would recommend (heads up, very hard to find since its tucked in an alley way) and another worship night afterwards. She is a friend I really cherish and I told her what I felt the night before, chit chat on our lives, the future, our amazing waiter (I don't think I ever tipped that much in my life) and faith of course. It was just fabulous!
The part that really stuck out was this worship night my friend and I attended. This worship night was hosted at Evangel Chinese Baptist Church, and its been happening monthly since the start of this year on the last Sunday of each month. What started as a jam session of four from different churches and an audience of two, became a sanctuary full of young adults praising and sharing fellowship with the Lord. I was so happy because I had been so sad to find out the Yic/Yac days had ceased, which were bi-annual worship nights for teens one night, and young adults the next night. I knew 2/4 initiators of this monthly praise night and I'm so glad I got to sit down with one of them and talk about it. I asked if it was stressful to plan, practice, and organize this EVERY MONTH while having to juggle work, school, personal life, etc. His reply, 'No not at all, we enjoy it.' I couldn't believe it, but yet, I enjoyed myself so much that night too. I know I will be going back and bringing others with me. It reminded me that we need to invest time for God and that what we do for him will be returned to us as overflowing blessings.
Okay, so my friend and I had arrived late because we got taken away with our dinner conversation, had a few mishaps along the road, and had to travel FAR. Despite this worship night invite being shared through word of mouth and FB, its intended to be an invite for everyone in the city, yet their location wasn't quite central. This church was pass South Common, but luckily its very easy to find and drive to, and despite the 35min ride from downtown, it was worth it. We arrived to this guy sharing about having faith like Elijah in the bible and as he closed, we all prayed with him. When I opened my eyes, I was speechless. Not because the praise team always gets on stage so quietly and quickly that it feels like they just teleport themselves there, but by the lyrics above them on the screen. I couldn't believe it. It was the SAME song that had got me crying, reflecting, and breaking down the night before. This moment was a total God thing, I turned to my friend and smiled at her, I was overjoyed. It was a confirmation on my part for the doings of the Spirit in my soul the night prior. I was wowed by Jesus.
That night when I got home, I got a call from a dear sic that I had prayed with last year when she received Jesus into her heart (from this post on my tumblr blog). She's been going through some heavy challenges in her life and I've been sharing my personal experiences and advice with her over phone calls. I felt as happy as I did last November when she told me she wanted to surrender her life to Jesus. She told me that God gave her a vision regarding a situation in her life, and that its the very first time she felt Jesus so close to her, right beside her, its the first time she really feels God speaking to her! Praise the Lord.
And what is this song I've been raving about?
How He Loves- David Crowder
I believe this may be the longest post I've ever written. Thank You so much if you have actually gotten through all that. It means a lot.
& this is why this weekend was so juicy
Monday, August 29, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
I GREW!
Haha! I wish I did grow a few inches taller today, if only puberty didn't cease in my life yet, but this day welcomes personal growth in non-physical ways.
I'm excited already. Today is the day I unintentionally, but with anticipation have waited for. I am a whole new number today and pun intended, a new whole number too (when is an age never a whole number right?)!
My single digit and teen years are before me and today shuffles in a new decade of life. Two Decades has passed already. I still remembered the day I turned ten and told myself 'I'm a DECADE OLD,' now I'm ready to make that two decades proud and clear. I don't feel old, twenty is anything but old; there's still plenty of learning to absorb, more room for me to quench, and so much life to saturate myself into.
This past year has taught me a lot about myself. Mentally, I've been stuck in the era of the teens and I remember that it wasn't until Winter Con '10 that God had really told me to grow up(you can read that post here). Soon later I was situated in one of the worst terms ever and I still recall that blanket of stress and struggles I was wrapped around in the dead cold of March. I was force to be in a balancing act between commitments and schedules and assignments after papers after exams week after week after week. I'm sure glad that's over! Ironically, not so long after, I blogged about wanting to be challenged because without challenges, one can only be so happy with being where they are at.
Relationally, I understand myself in particular ways I haven't before. As cheesy as it may be, I 'found' myself in new ways. I'm more clear on what I'm looking for beyond friendship (well maybe not quite but you get my drift) and through an expected epiphany or not, every moment of life delivers a purpose, a lesson, a moral. I know me better and I acknowledge the abundance of blessings and passions God has blessed me with as a well-rounded person. This August has been a noteworthy month of reminiscent memories from the past. I reflected on thoughts I always pondered on but never had shared. I'm starting to untie many strings within.
I can't finish this post without mentioning the spiritual factor. Its always surrounded me in every aspect of my life, but its been the most prominent as of last month. My post, How it all started pretty much summarizes the miraculous doings of the Lord. Every time I share about that crazy Friday, my mind is speechless despite non-stop emotions and feelings being poured out from the heart. Lately, I feel God being persistent in some parts of my life I rather leave undiscovered at the moment. I'm not ready to delve into these areas of unknown, but who knows when I will be ready. Well, He definitely will and I will just have to wait for what 2-0 has to reveal.
Just by skimming my blogs I`m in recognition of the happenings in my life. Last year I had 41 posts in total, and today this blog has reached its 41st. I'm beyond thankful for all that has occurred and what I have accomplished as of today.
Life is not without its superficiality though- the world is ugly, reality is harsh, people are sinful, and yes you can be influence by all of that, but I believe that your the only person who can keep your own dreams alive, remain that childhood innocence at heart, mature in unseen ways, judge everyone as an infant, clench your hands into hope and never let go.
Dear 20:
I embrace you and take you on like no other age before. Love me, mold me, inspire me, and guide me with help from the higher hand. This year will be magnificent. Extraordinary. AND, even captureable (Thank Yous to you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you <3 !)
Yours Truly,
Sarah Pho
Cheers!
I'm excited already. Today is the day I unintentionally, but with anticipation have waited for. I am a whole new number today and pun intended, a new whole number too (when is an age never a whole number right?)!
My single digit and teen years are before me and today shuffles in a new decade of life. Two Decades has passed already. I still remembered the day I turned ten and told myself 'I'm a DECADE OLD,' now I'm ready to make that two decades proud and clear. I don't feel old, twenty is anything but old; there's still plenty of learning to absorb, more room for me to quench, and so much life to saturate myself into.
This past year has taught me a lot about myself. Mentally, I've been stuck in the era of the teens and I remember that it wasn't until Winter Con '10 that God had really told me to grow up(you can read that post here). Soon later I was situated in one of the worst terms ever and I still recall that blanket of stress and struggles I was wrapped around in the dead cold of March. I was force to be in a balancing act between commitments and schedules and assignments after papers after exams week after week after week. I'm sure glad that's over! Ironically, not so long after, I blogged about wanting to be challenged because without challenges, one can only be so happy with being where they are at.
Relationally, I understand myself in particular ways I haven't before. As cheesy as it may be, I 'found' myself in new ways. I'm more clear on what I'm looking for beyond friendship (well maybe not quite but you get my drift) and through an expected epiphany or not, every moment of life delivers a purpose, a lesson, a moral. I know me better and I acknowledge the abundance of blessings and passions God has blessed me with as a well-rounded person. This August has been a noteworthy month of reminiscent memories from the past. I reflected on thoughts I always pondered on but never had shared. I'm starting to untie many strings within.
I can't finish this post without mentioning the spiritual factor. Its always surrounded me in every aspect of my life, but its been the most prominent as of last month. My post, How it all started pretty much summarizes the miraculous doings of the Lord. Every time I share about that crazy Friday, my mind is speechless despite non-stop emotions and feelings being poured out from the heart. Lately, I feel God being persistent in some parts of my life I rather leave undiscovered at the moment. I'm not ready to delve into these areas of unknown, but who knows when I will be ready. Well, He definitely will and I will just have to wait for what 2-0 has to reveal.
Just by skimming my blogs I`m in recognition of the happenings in my life. Last year I had 41 posts in total, and today this blog has reached its 41st. I'm beyond thankful for all that has occurred and what I have accomplished as of today.
Life is not without its superficiality though- the world is ugly, reality is harsh, people are sinful, and yes you can be influence by all of that, but I believe that your the only person who can keep your own dreams alive, remain that childhood innocence at heart, mature in unseen ways, judge everyone as an infant, clench your hands into hope and never let go.
Dear 20:
I embrace you and take you on like no other age before. Love me, mold me, inspire me, and guide me with help from the higher hand. This year will be magnificent. Extraordinary. AND, even captureable (Thank Yous to you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you & you <3 !)
Yours Truly,
Sarah Pho
Cheers!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Stories told from a room
This month I've been in the process of cleaning my room. As you've probably acknowledged that I like to keep things neat, this shouldn't come as a surprise. It was actually enjoyable despite the time it took to clean my room. Though my room isn't that big, it took quite some time and a few days (that were spread out over two & a half week ish)to throw some things out, reorganize stuff, wipe layers of dust away (I really hate dust!) and do an annual donation.
I think the last time I did a major clean up of my room was probably in high school, but every time I do a clean up, its very rewarding. I get to acknowledge "things" from the past and discover how much I've grown attach to some things or become dis-attached to other things. Take stuff animals for examples, I have a LOT of stuff animals: a huge collection of beanie babies, assorted sizes of cute, furry animals, dolls, etc. and they take up a lot of room and collect dust. Each time, I don't move them or place them in a new location if I don't have to. I like them smiling on top of my shelves, drawers, closet or even on the floor. They actually take up a lot of room, and if you've seen my room before, you could say its quite childish and a typical room for a little girl. I still love my stuff animals, and each one of them tells a story. Who gave it to me? Where was it from? When did I receive it? Why?. This time around though, I didn't even think twice before taking them off my shelves and placing them all in a brown bag. I wanted new things in their place and I just didn't have enough space to keep them all where they were occupied.
I realize I'm growing out of grade school days. I remember when my mom would force me to clean my room and barge in with a garbage bag to throw out what she considered "junk" in my room and I would cry. I liked holding onto what I had and I just recently recycled my grade twelve notes, not like I really cared for them anyways (didn't come in handy for Uni at all). Sometimes it can be difficult and I struggle between keeping an item that is useless, but holds some sort of meaning to me, or donate it to a person who would use it more than I would and give it more worth than I did.
When I do an annual clean up of my closet, I always find pieces I've only worn once or twice and my principle is that if I haven't worn it in the past six months, it should go (not including formal dresses or occasion/weather-oriented items). Then I ask myself, why did I wear it so little? Is it because I didn't like it that much in the first place, it shrunk or doesn't fit well or it grew out of style? But I give in to donating it when I think of someone less fortunate and who would wear it, rather than have it just sit comfortably in my drawers until the next time it has a chance to be dressed on someone. I really need to consider what I buy and invest in-it'll definitely save me money in my pocket, AND not buy out of impulse (oh retail therapy...). Other times, I tend to keep worn-out and even ripped garments because they signify so much more- despite not capable of being worn (such as my black capris that ripped at the crotch on my first and only camping trip ever).
Today, the last day of my cleaning, I organized all my cards I've ever received in my life. Well, I only had the ones since grade five/six, but that's still a LOT of cards. The cards I receive are usually just in a pile in a box I have, but I decided to organize them according to category: Birthdays, Valentine's Day, Christmas/NY, Invitations, Baptism, Thankyou(s), Random Letters & Notes. As I opened each card and read the message inside in order to place them in their proper pile, memories flooded my mind. Words of encouragement, funny insider jokes, saying 'Thanks' for something I did, an update on one's life or what they're going through-each and every one so genuine. It felt like that writer was actually speaking to me in that time. I couldn't help but laugh at some of these cards from so and so at their younger age and how they've changed. Yet some things just don't change.
Cleaning my room has been an experience. I invite you to clean yours too. You never know what treasures you'll discover and what package of joy is waiting to be open.
I wish my camera didn't die so that I could take and show some pictures, but since memories don't need to be capture to be remembered, words will do.
Seeing through the eyes of things
I think the last time I did a major clean up of my room was probably in high school, but every time I do a clean up, its very rewarding. I get to acknowledge "things" from the past and discover how much I've grown attach to some things or become dis-attached to other things. Take stuff animals for examples, I have a LOT of stuff animals: a huge collection of beanie babies, assorted sizes of cute, furry animals, dolls, etc. and they take up a lot of room and collect dust. Each time, I don't move them or place them in a new location if I don't have to. I like them smiling on top of my shelves, drawers, closet or even on the floor. They actually take up a lot of room, and if you've seen my room before, you could say its quite childish and a typical room for a little girl. I still love my stuff animals, and each one of them tells a story. Who gave it to me? Where was it from? When did I receive it? Why?. This time around though, I didn't even think twice before taking them off my shelves and placing them all in a brown bag. I wanted new things in their place and I just didn't have enough space to keep them all where they were occupied.
I realize I'm growing out of grade school days. I remember when my mom would force me to clean my room and barge in with a garbage bag to throw out what she considered "junk" in my room and I would cry. I liked holding onto what I had and I just recently recycled my grade twelve notes, not like I really cared for them anyways (didn't come in handy for Uni at all). Sometimes it can be difficult and I struggle between keeping an item that is useless, but holds some sort of meaning to me, or donate it to a person who would use it more than I would and give it more worth than I did.
When I do an annual clean up of my closet, I always find pieces I've only worn once or twice and my principle is that if I haven't worn it in the past six months, it should go (not including formal dresses or occasion/weather-oriented items). Then I ask myself, why did I wear it so little? Is it because I didn't like it that much in the first place, it shrunk or doesn't fit well or it grew out of style? But I give in to donating it when I think of someone less fortunate and who would wear it, rather than have it just sit comfortably in my drawers until the next time it has a chance to be dressed on someone. I really need to consider what I buy and invest in-it'll definitely save me money in my pocket, AND not buy out of impulse (oh retail therapy...). Other times, I tend to keep worn-out and even ripped garments because they signify so much more- despite not capable of being worn (such as my black capris that ripped at the crotch on my first and only camping trip ever).
Today, the last day of my cleaning, I organized all my cards I've ever received in my life. Well, I only had the ones since grade five/six, but that's still a LOT of cards. The cards I receive are usually just in a pile in a box I have, but I decided to organize them according to category: Birthdays, Valentine's Day, Christmas/NY, Invitations, Baptism, Thankyou(s), Random Letters & Notes. As I opened each card and read the message inside in order to place them in their proper pile, memories flooded my mind. Words of encouragement, funny insider jokes, saying 'Thanks' for something I did, an update on one's life or what they're going through-each and every one so genuine. It felt like that writer was actually speaking to me in that time. I couldn't help but laugh at some of these cards from so and so at their younger age and how they've changed. Yet some things just don't change.
Cleaning my room has been an experience. I invite you to clean yours too. You never know what treasures you'll discover and what package of joy is waiting to be open.
I wish my camera didn't die so that I could take and show some pictures, but since memories don't need to be capture to be remembered, words will do.
Seeing through the eyes of things
Friday, August 12, 2011
Like a Kid
I remember as a kid I was in love with Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen movies. They were my favorite childhood stars for a long time. I admired them, I wanted to be like them and I still am inspired by how they made a name for themselves as fashion designers despite having been famous from their day of birth. My mom would take me to Blockbuster quite often to rent movies and every time I would rent a MK&A movie on VHS. My favorite movie of theirs was "You're Invited to Mary-Kate and Ashely's Ballet Party." I would watch this one for as many times as I possibly could during the week. I absolutely adored these twins in their tutus and the theme of dancing that captivated me.
I remember when I was seven, a flyer for ballet lessons at a new studio in Castledowns came in the mail. I remembered it so well because I really wanted to take dance lessons. I wanted to be a dancer, I wanted to learn how to dance and I wanted to go to this open house. I told my mom, but she worked late that day, I told my auntie who was living with me at the time and she took me to the open house. I had anticipated this night for days and I was so happy to be able to go. Disappointment settled in fast though. Not only were those lessons costly, I had a fear of doing the splits because other kids at school had told me you had to "break a bone" in your hip to be able to stretch that way. As I saw little girls in their tutus in the studio showing off their dance moves and even some doing the splits- I was wishing I could be one of them, but without hesitation I made the decision to not take dance lessons.
I remember also around that age, my mom would take me to a restaurant she knew the owner of. This restaurant had performers each weekend and some of these performers included mothers and daughters. They would dance, do skits, basically just entertain their dinner guests. I enjoyed watching them even if it was just basic entertainment and had mentioned to my mom how we should join in on the fun and be performers too. One day my mom came home and told me she had sign us up to join that group of performers. But for some reason, I said no and made my mom 'un-sign' us. I knew deep down I had wanted to do it, but why did I reply with such a firm disapproval?
I guess as a little girl I had yearned to dance or perform, but I just lacked the confidence to do so. I didn't believe in myself that I could do things I thought were impossible. I was stubborn and didn't give myself a chance. I want to call this a regret of mine, yet, life is a learning experience and I believe that every opportunity taken or not, you take away something, move on, and try to come back as a better person.
Yesterday was the finale of SYTYCD (So You Think You Can Dance for those of you that aren't avid followers). I love the talent in this show just like how I loved the ballet movie from Ashely & Mary Kate Olsen back in my childhood days. Since I was introduced to it in the summer of 2007, I have watched and tried to follow it as much as I can. I find myself especially drawn to the genre of contemporary dancing. Every time I see a piece, I feel compelled to be able to dance that way and wish I had taken up dancing as a child. The graceful movements of the bodies, the precise flow and rhythm of the partners, the fearless depth of their twirls,leaps and bounds, the expressive faces that justify their roles and impacts the crowds. I can't put it any other way. The act of expressing themselves and the story behind their talent makes me speechless. Sometimes I cry with them, other times I smile to myself over how sweet their dancing made me feel.
Sometimes I think I like creating and directing drimes, and delivering a message to an audience through unspoken words is due to my love for dance. I am very fond of stories being told without one opening their mouth. Its an amazing and powerful perspective and being able to share that with others is joy. Though, I can't say all the drimes I've been involved with have told a touching story, but the artsy side of life is just aesthetic. Lively. Heart warming. Beyond what science can tell.
I don't know where this fervour for art started, I just know its been with me since I was a child. My ability to be creative and derive nifty ideas is not from me but a heavenly spirit who knows me more than I know myself. There's a reason, I know there is. And like a kid, who wished they could have a time machine to play with, I do too as an adult.
I remember when I was seven, a flyer for ballet lessons at a new studio in Castledowns came in the mail. I remembered it so well because I really wanted to take dance lessons. I wanted to be a dancer, I wanted to learn how to dance and I wanted to go to this open house. I told my mom, but she worked late that day, I told my auntie who was living with me at the time and she took me to the open house. I had anticipated this night for days and I was so happy to be able to go. Disappointment settled in fast though. Not only were those lessons costly, I had a fear of doing the splits because other kids at school had told me you had to "break a bone" in your hip to be able to stretch that way. As I saw little girls in their tutus in the studio showing off their dance moves and even some doing the splits- I was wishing I could be one of them, but without hesitation I made the decision to not take dance lessons.
I remember also around that age, my mom would take me to a restaurant she knew the owner of. This restaurant had performers each weekend and some of these performers included mothers and daughters. They would dance, do skits, basically just entertain their dinner guests. I enjoyed watching them even if it was just basic entertainment and had mentioned to my mom how we should join in on the fun and be performers too. One day my mom came home and told me she had sign us up to join that group of performers. But for some reason, I said no and made my mom 'un-sign' us. I knew deep down I had wanted to do it, but why did I reply with such a firm disapproval?
I guess as a little girl I had yearned to dance or perform, but I just lacked the confidence to do so. I didn't believe in myself that I could do things I thought were impossible. I was stubborn and didn't give myself a chance. I want to call this a regret of mine, yet, life is a learning experience and I believe that every opportunity taken or not, you take away something, move on, and try to come back as a better person.
Yesterday was the finale of SYTYCD (So You Think You Can Dance for those of you that aren't avid followers). I love the talent in this show just like how I loved the ballet movie from Ashely & Mary Kate Olsen back in my childhood days. Since I was introduced to it in the summer of 2007, I have watched and tried to follow it as much as I can. I find myself especially drawn to the genre of contemporary dancing. Every time I see a piece, I feel compelled to be able to dance that way and wish I had taken up dancing as a child. The graceful movements of the bodies, the precise flow and rhythm of the partners, the fearless depth of their twirls,leaps and bounds, the expressive faces that justify their roles and impacts the crowds. I can't put it any other way. The act of expressing themselves and the story behind their talent makes me speechless. Sometimes I cry with them, other times I smile to myself over how sweet their dancing made me feel.
Sometimes I think I like creating and directing drimes, and delivering a message to an audience through unspoken words is due to my love for dance. I am very fond of stories being told without one opening their mouth. Its an amazing and powerful perspective and being able to share that with others is joy. Though, I can't say all the drimes I've been involved with have told a touching story, but the artsy side of life is just aesthetic. Lively. Heart warming. Beyond what science can tell.
I don't know where this fervour for art started, I just know its been with me since I was a child. My ability to be creative and derive nifty ideas is not from me but a heavenly spirit who knows me more than I know myself. There's a reason, I know there is. And like a kid, who wished they could have a time machine to play with, I do too as an adult.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
A case of Alzheimer's
We all have times when we forget things. To do lists, a task on our agenda, forgetting to call a friend, to write a message, to reply a text. There's been times its just so easy to let something slip by and it may not even be significant. It could be due to a busy schedule, a spur of the moment incident that went in one ear and out the other, or we may have been ignorant and rather careless about what we were suppose to remember.
Personally I dislike forgetting things. I use my agenda wisely, write to do notes, scribble ideas that come to mind and even resort to the palm of my hand if there's nothing else. I prefer being organized and accomplishing what I need to be done before it needs to be done. Yet, I am writing about a forgotten case of music.
Yes, music.
I took piano lessons since I was in grade three. I had always wanted to take lessons, maybe because my friends did and so I told my mom. She found me a teacher from church and my knowledge of the piano took course from there on. I remember the cost of these lessons, each year the cost would go up, and as I went into higher levels, I had to take more lessons and theory, as well as pay for expensive piano exams and books. I enjoyed playing, but I disliked practicing. Sometimes I wouldn't practice until the day of my lesson. My teacher could always tell how if I practiced or not, I always wondered how she knew, but it showed. Practice makes Perfect right?
I remember when I started ear training I was so frustrated. I just couldn't get it. There must be a problem with my hearing I thought because how could I not be able to even GUESS a note? Thinking back to this, it makes me annoyed at myself. I didn't think I was musically challenged at all. One day I decided that I would quit piano lessons after finishing grade eight. That day came and gone in the summer of 2008. Its been close to three years now. During this time, when I bumped into my piano teachers (I had two, one moved away and I switched to her relative), I felt somewhat ashamed. I had told my teacher I wanted to take a break when I quitted (she had really wanted me to pursue to grade ten, even if it was just for fun). I felt ashamed not because I didn't take lessons with her no more, but because when she would ask about how my practice was going I found myself changing the topic or giving an indirect (and not very honest) answer, reason being, I stopped playing. I haven't touched the piano on a regular basis since that summer.
One day, which so happens to be about two weeks before the Aruba mission trip, I found myself having a yearning to play. An auntie told me once you can never forget a learned skill, its like driving, yes you may need to brush up on it having not played in a long time, but you would never forget the skill. So I opened a rather easy piano book and played some popular children songs, it took some time for both my hands to match up on the notes and timing, and my mind had to adjust to the delay from reading the notes and sending the message to my fingers, but I played and ended up playing for an hour, clumsily. They were really basic songs though.
Speaking of the mission trip, when my friend couldn't go because of her grandfather's death, the group didn't know what to do, my other friend would be the only other person for the 'praise team' and they had lost a piano player for the trip. When I stepped up to the plate, they knew I could play and they were satisfied with me as a replacement. Yet, I didn't know if I could actually play for an audience-all the fear and nervousness from previous piano exams built up and took its toll on me. AND, playing praise songs and hymns, no way! When I got to Aruba and looked through the music sheets, I felt so lost. I couldn't remember how to do chords, my fingers were all over the placed and my mind was struggling to read the sharps, flats or recall F-A-C-E and 'All Cows Eat Grass?' I was confused and I was frustrated with myself for not understanding this language I had knew so well at one point. It was like all that money, effort, and practicing for eight years had gone to waste.
In the end, even though we didn't have a legit pianist, we realized we didn't even need one, the kids were satisfied with a Hillsong DVD and watching us make a fool of ourselves by dancing (though many of them loved it and joined in!). During sharing last week, one of the members of the mission trip had mention how despite each of us on the team not being the most talented in the field of music, we all pulled through and enjoyed praise and worship the most each day of camp. God absolutely love weaknesses and this week I've been reminded so much of Aruba and our work there. I miss it.
As for my early case of Alzheimer's, it'll take a lot of time and practice, but I hope to play as I did three years ago one day. Its rather disappointing that even though I wasn't a very good pianist that I could forget so much. At least its not a memory forgotten forever.
What will I do if I ever do get Alzheimer's?
Personally I dislike forgetting things. I use my agenda wisely, write to do notes, scribble ideas that come to mind and even resort to the palm of my hand if there's nothing else. I prefer being organized and accomplishing what I need to be done before it needs to be done. Yet, I am writing about a forgotten case of music.
Yes, music.
I took piano lessons since I was in grade three. I had always wanted to take lessons, maybe because my friends did and so I told my mom. She found me a teacher from church and my knowledge of the piano took course from there on. I remember the cost of these lessons, each year the cost would go up, and as I went into higher levels, I had to take more lessons and theory, as well as pay for expensive piano exams and books. I enjoyed playing, but I disliked practicing. Sometimes I wouldn't practice until the day of my lesson. My teacher could always tell how if I practiced or not, I always wondered how she knew, but it showed. Practice makes Perfect right?
I remember when I started ear training I was so frustrated. I just couldn't get it. There must be a problem with my hearing I thought because how could I not be able to even GUESS a note? Thinking back to this, it makes me annoyed at myself. I didn't think I was musically challenged at all. One day I decided that I would quit piano lessons after finishing grade eight. That day came and gone in the summer of 2008. Its been close to three years now. During this time, when I bumped into my piano teachers (I had two, one moved away and I switched to her relative), I felt somewhat ashamed. I had told my teacher I wanted to take a break when I quitted (she had really wanted me to pursue to grade ten, even if it was just for fun). I felt ashamed not because I didn't take lessons with her no more, but because when she would ask about how my practice was going I found myself changing the topic or giving an indirect (and not very honest) answer, reason being, I stopped playing. I haven't touched the piano on a regular basis since that summer.
One day, which so happens to be about two weeks before the Aruba mission trip, I found myself having a yearning to play. An auntie told me once you can never forget a learned skill, its like driving, yes you may need to brush up on it having not played in a long time, but you would never forget the skill. So I opened a rather easy piano book and played some popular children songs, it took some time for both my hands to match up on the notes and timing, and my mind had to adjust to the delay from reading the notes and sending the message to my fingers, but I played and ended up playing for an hour, clumsily. They were really basic songs though.
Speaking of the mission trip, when my friend couldn't go because of her grandfather's death, the group didn't know what to do, my other friend would be the only other person for the 'praise team' and they had lost a piano player for the trip. When I stepped up to the plate, they knew I could play and they were satisfied with me as a replacement. Yet, I didn't know if I could actually play for an audience-all the fear and nervousness from previous piano exams built up and took its toll on me. AND, playing praise songs and hymns, no way! When I got to Aruba and looked through the music sheets, I felt so lost. I couldn't remember how to do chords, my fingers were all over the placed and my mind was struggling to read the sharps, flats or recall F-A-C-E and 'All Cows Eat Grass?' I was confused and I was frustrated with myself for not understanding this language I had knew so well at one point. It was like all that money, effort, and practicing for eight years had gone to waste.
In the end, even though we didn't have a legit pianist, we realized we didn't even need one, the kids were satisfied with a Hillsong DVD and watching us make a fool of ourselves by dancing (though many of them loved it and joined in!). During sharing last week, one of the members of the mission trip had mention how despite each of us on the team not being the most talented in the field of music, we all pulled through and enjoyed praise and worship the most each day of camp. God absolutely love weaknesses and this week I've been reminded so much of Aruba and our work there. I miss it.
As for my early case of Alzheimer's, it'll take a lot of time and practice, but I hope to play as I did three years ago one day. Its rather disappointing that even though I wasn't a very good pianist that I could forget so much. At least its not a memory forgotten forever.
What will I do if I ever do get Alzheimer's?
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