THE GOOD EARTH

"Now Wang Lung had never in his youth or at any time learned the meaning of letters upon paper, and he could not, therefore, make anything out of such paper covered with black marks and pasted upon city gates or upon walls or sold by the handful or even given away. Twice he had such paper given him.

The first time it was given by a foreigner such as the one he had pulled unwittingly in his ricksha one day, only this one who gave him the paper was a man, very tall, and lean as a tree that has been blown by bitter winds. This man had eyes as blue as ice and a hairy face, and when he gave the paper to Wang Lung it was seen that his hands were also hairy and red-skinned. He had, moreover, a great nose projecting beyond his cheeks like a prow beyond the sides of a ship and Wang Lung although frightened to take anything from his hand, was more frightened to refuse, seeing the man's strange eyes and fearful nose. He took what was thrust at him, then, and when he had courage to look at it after the foreigner had passed on, he saw on the paper a picture of a man, white-skinned, who hung upon a crosspiece of wood. The man was without clothes except for a bit about his loins, and to all appearances he was dead, since his head drooped upon his shoulder and his eyes were closed above his bearded lips. Wang Lung looked at the pictured man in horror and with increasing interest. There were characters beneath, but of these he could make nothing.

"Surely this was a very evil man to be thus hung."

But Wang Lung was fearful of the picture and pondered as to why a foreigner had given it to him, whether or not some brother of this foreigner's had not been so treated and the other brethren seeking revenge. He avoided, therefore, the street on which he had met the man and after a few days, when the paper was forgotten, O-lan (his wife) took it and sewed it into a shoe sole together with other bits of paper she picked up here and there to make the soles firm."

ABRACADABRA!!

Kids come up with the wackiest of ideas. At some point, most of us lose that innocent way in viewing the world, as different experiences and disappointments start diluting the brilliant colours that is life, until we start seeing everything in different shades of gray. There are a fractional few who can keep an unfiltered outlook, no matter what happens in life.

I am sitting in my most recent BSF class, fighting the urge to burst out in complete disagreement, as a conversation about prosperity theology emerges. The question was posed: "What physical or material advantages have you been given, and how have you used them to serve God?" It is this kind of thinking that I feel often misleads people to the church, that somehow by acquiring faith, you also acquire the entitlement to material wealth. Anyways, people are naming off their "things" and how these "things" have helped them in their spiritual walks, and then B puts up his hand, as if we were back in grade school and he didn't want to speak out of turn.

"I'm thankful for magic. I can do magic tricks, get kids' attention and tell them about Jesus".

He goes on to explain how magic is like an international language, that everyone "gets" it. Here is a twenty-something-year-old man, recently married, and working as an electrician. And, without fail, he brings a certain refreshment to the class, reminding all of us jaded people that innocence is not only for the naive, but for everyone because that is where we came from.

"Hey Tim, did you know that if you say Allah three times, you stop being a Christian?"

Being 8 years old and very impressionable, I really have no choice but to believe M. He is one of my closest friends and I never doubt his smarts, even though he makes me laugh all the time. Especially when we're at church and hiding behind the wooden pews while some boring adult talks for what seems like forever.

He keeps whispering over: "Allah, Allah, A.....Psych!"

I'm sitting there, unable to hide my anxiety, petrified that at any second, my best friend was going to Hell! He keeps torturing me.

"The CN Tower is T-Allah, Eaton Centre is a big M-Allah, I like to play basket-b-All....Psych!"

Just then, the boring adult stops what he's saying in mid-sentence and glares angrily over at us: "You two, please pay attention!" We both sit very still, but I'm relieved, for I'm thinking that since we both have to keep silent, my best friend has just been saved from Hell.

THE HOLE THAT NEEDS TO BE FILLED

I saw Apocalypto recently, Mel Gibson's latest production. It was quite the intense movie that struck me as a truthful commentary on the human nature, no matter what era you find yourself in. During a time of peace, the community was gathered together, listening to wise one:

And a man sat alone, drenched deep in sadness.
And all the animals drew near to him and said:
"We do not like to see you so sad. Ask us for whatever you wish and you shall have it."
The Man said: "I want to have good sight."
The Vulture replied: "You shall have mine."
The Man said: "I want to be strong."
The Jaguar said: "You shall be strong like me."
Then the Man said: "I long to know the secrets of the earth."
The Serpent replied: "I will show them to you."
And so it went with all the animals.
And when the Man had all the gifts that they could give he left.
Then the Owl said to the other animals: "Now the Man knows much, he'll be able to do many things, suddenly I am afraid."
The Deer said: "The Man has all that he needs. Now his sadness will stop."
But the Owl replied: "No. I saw a hole in the Man. Deep like a hunger he will never fill."

If I think of all the bad things that happen in this world, globally and to me personally, I can only attribute them to this unending motivation to fill this hole.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

Is living life to the fullest finding a way to live the longest life you can or is it living it just long enough to do the one thing that you were meant to...

INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE; PLENTY INSANE, GOT NO BRAIN!

Typically, it is not socially acceptable to cry in public, at least not for a guy. You are definitely forbidden to shed a tear even after experiencing intense physical pain (like getting drilled in the jewels by a red rubber ball while playing dodge ball) or watching a sappy movie (if you haven't already had your masculinity questioned for even making the mistake of being in the theatre where one is showing in the first place).

33 Dec. 25 FERNIE ALPINE RESOSRT TICFERNIE BC $
For the second Christmas in a row, I find myself up at 5 a.m., loading up the car with food, various items of clothing, my ARCHOS mp3 player, and my snowboard. Again, I find myself heading west, into BC, in search of glorious powder. This time, instead of driving through the mountains (which really aren't that visible at this time of day anyways), I am now driving through rolling plains, the occasional midget peak popping up here and there. I am absolutely blown away as we drive through Frank, a small town completely buried in a rock slide in the early 1900's. The road I drive on snakes through the rubble. The irony of a town built right beside this rubble, with the guilty mountain who spewed its unwanted shale still looming, is lost on me. Another hour and a bit and we pull into Fernie, the start of a 3 day adventure in riding some of the best powder ever! I had no fears of being borderline reckless because I knew that if I fell, I would be landing in 30+ cm of the biggest, fluffiest pillows you could imagine. Sandwiched in between 2 days of Fernie was a jaunt to Kimberley. With it mainly groomed trails, this provided a much needed rest for the spent legs from doing the more technical powder bowls the day before. And it was perfect in ensuring that there was enough juice for the following day's visit to the more technical side of Fernie.

At our dodge ball party this past weekend (c'mon, dodge ball people can be cool too!) we ended up playing Cranium. One part of the game involves selecting an "artist" from both teams to draw on a pad with enough clues to entice your team members to successfully guess the answer. Sort of like Pictionary. Each artist is handed the answer card, looks at what they need to draw, and then the round begins. Our team was stoked, knowing that correctly identifying the answer would surely tip the momentum of the game in our favour. Our artist was even more stoked at the surety of his drawing skills. It started off well, as our team was able to guess that there were two words to the answer, the second one being "cat". Our artists was now working furiously to try to provide enough for us to guess the first part of the answer. "Tomcat", "Bobcat", "Thundercat", and anything else that ended in "cat" was shouted enthusiastically by my team, certain that we were going to get this before the other team, who, up to this point, was fairly quiet. Suddenly, someone on the other team shouted "spotlight" and the round was done. All of my team was dumbfounded by the actual answer. I could not, for the life of me, see how "spotlight" and "something-cat" were related. Our artist was protesting, exclaiming that "spotlight" was not the right answer. We all look at the card now, automatically assuming that the other artist had forgotten what they were supposed to be drawing. We all peer in, closely.

45 Dec. 31 GASBAR # 1777 CALGARY AB $
Spoiled by the conditions seen in BC, Lake Louise lacks lustre, especially since it appeared that everyone in Calgary decided to come here, today. The long lines reminded me of Blue Mountain, which I had heard wasn't even able to make snow because of the warm weather blanketing Ontario. With so much driving (most memorably the drive back to Calgary from Fernie in near white-out conditions and having all-you-can-eat rice at downtown Sushi Tokyo), these GasBar transactions are frequent. New Year's Eve was fairly quiet, but pleasantly bejewelled by J&D dropping by to toast it in with some Bicardi Breezers. Horray for 2007!

Data Head. Star Performer. Word Worm. And one more. Each category demands a different skillset, whether it is knowing trivia, being able to hum a tune so your teammates can guess the name of it, or being able to spell a word sdrawkcab without writing it down. The last category is the one that requires the use of tactile and creative skills, like sculpting putty or drawing something on a piece of paper, which is what we were doing. The name of this category, Creative Cat. So, while the other artist saw the actual answer on the card (spotlight), our artist saw Creative Cat (every game card has the category name on it) and thought that was the answer. The look of frustration and desperation on his face was priceless as he was trying to think of how to draw "Creative". After realizing what had happened, I was laughing so hard I started crying. We all were. So, masculinity preserved!

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, FRIEND!

I swore that I would never be one of those that would let a month pass without speaking to you. It seems that since the last time we spoke, I anticipated a hectic few weeks to follow, but never did I imagine how my life would have been completely flipped inside out, following a schedule so foreign to me. Sadly, one of the joys of speaking to you have been to capture the impressions of my ever failing memory as things happen, yet, by not doing so, I now find myself trying to remember exactly what had happened by, even more sadly, going through my credit card receipts. For these are the only shards of evidence that prove that I truly had experience, like someone suspected of a crime in CSI that has to come up with an alibi. And yet, life proceeds. New memories are created as new experiences imbibed. And who else could I even dare dream of using a word like "imbibe" with, without getting laughed at? Please forgive me for my neglect and unfaithfulness. Let me make it up to you by covenanting to restart sharing my experiences with you. Let me also amuse you with the things that I had neglected before.

18 Dec. 22 CALGARY ZOO-ADMISSION CALGARY AB $
Having been in Calgary for over a year now, I have driven by the Calgary Zoo many times. I thought I had outgrown the zoo, that it was a place reserved for parents seeking solitude from screaming kids and, letting the kid's imagination be whisked away into the animal kingdom, or installing the fear that should they ever misbehave, they will go "meet the lions". Yet, I find myself in the zoo for the 3rd time in as many weeks. Sure, the 2nd time didn't really count because it was for their famed night time "Zoo-lites", but I was starting to feel like I knew my way around without a map.

Don't look at my fingers which are in such a decrepit state. I actually don't remember the last time I picked up my guitar for longer than a few strums. Probably a John424 event. The idea of leaving it out on its stand was to encourage me to continue playing. Unfortunately, the visitation has been sporadic at best, the guitar succeeding more in collecting dust than play. I was recently accepted to play on a worship team at Westside and this week was my first time. The music program is pretty heavy into gospel and jazz. So, not only did I have to get my guitar chops back up to speed, I also had to figure out 9,11,13 voicings!

27 Dec. 24 IMPERIAL BOWL RESTAURA CALGARY AB $
Having no desire (and, really, noone for) to cook a turkey, I found myself a little hardpressed in finding a place to eat before the Christmas eve service. Having just returned from a hike out to Prairie View, my growling stomach only exasperated the problem. You can count on the good ol' Chinese restaurants who, when every other restaurant closes in a city, will remain open. Despite its obvious catering towards the Western palette, it was one of the most delicious meals I've had, fortune cookie included.

I have always found playing the guitar easier with shortened fingernails. One drawback is that I also tend to be quite clumsy with the nail clippers, cutting too short. I quickly discovered that I did this (once again) at my afternoon activity: beach volleyball! Yes, beach volleyball in the middle of January when it is -15 outside is quite an insane thing to do. Luckily, I was playing in a heated indoor volleyball bubble (a facility similar to TO's NorthBeach, but which housed hard courts as well). We were warming up and, at one point, I looked at the ball and saw blood splotches. My middle finger was covered in blood (some of it already dried) as a result of the (shortened) nail coming plied apart from the cuticle. Carry on. The sand was soft and the play was quite decent. I was playing with many whom I just met, mainly PHD candidates or post-docs at the U of C. And all whom are from abroad. In fact, I was the only one that didn't speak with an European accent, which I thought was really cool (especially when people started swearing in their mother tongues!) Only as I was towelling off did I realize that 3 hours had passed and that I was severely dehydrated. I seem to recall, sentimentally, having these same feelings during many hot, summer Sundays down at Ashbridges in TO.