pedo mellon a minno

speak friend and enter

воскресенье, февраля 10, 2008

Migration Notice

This blog has served well the last four years, and its time to move house. The layout has totally gone wonky and I have no idea why, despite the best consults!

j e r m i n g DOT b l o g s p o t DOT com - A new house for rambling, rants and updates!

I can't stand even the idea of linking from here. So here you go. Thanks for stopping by! God Bless! שָׁלוֹם עֲלֵיכֶם

Posted by: JM / 8:51 PM

воскресенье, декабря 30, 2007

It All Goes Back in the Box

Again, we stand at the threshold of a new year
A year awaiting, the days to be lived through
Minute by minute, hour by hour
crossed out little boxes
never to return, only spent

One of the great universal constants - Time
Great and poor, rich and urchin subject to its tyranny and generosity
For all are given the same each day
Yea, some get to cross out more little boxes, others less,
(before we end up in a little box ourselves)
but the same is expected, no less, of each of us
to give an account of our days.

Teach me to number them then,
my wand'ring days on this green earth,
so I might have a heart of wisdom.
Wisdom to know then, the time and seasons
to know to sow and when to reap
when to plant and to till and to prune
Teach me to know your Spirit's call
to let the north-wind blow on my garden
and let its fragrance, the fragrance of Christ,
a-bound to all who are perishing
Lead us continually in triumphal procession,
bearing the death and resurrection of Christ
the power therein, in meekness and humility!

Another bend, 'round the pilgrim path
fellow peregrines on the journey of faith
toward the wicker gate
and fair Reepicheep calls to us,
amidst the great cloud of witnesses
"Further up and Farther in!"
they chorus, the saints who've gone before us
In the distance the city shines:
pennants fluttering in the winds
and white gulls chatter,
a horn sounds - The White City.

But the time is not yet nigh for most of us
Temperance and temptation, love and life
are yet before us, to make change in community, to affect nations
Thou root of Jesse, have thy life in us
that we bud like Aaron's dry staff
giving life where once there was none
Shine, like stars, Glow like cities on a hill,
life-preserving saltiness.
Looking forward to the upward way
Carpe Aeternum, Carpe Diem

For soon the days will darken
and nights will be long
Hope among men will be fading
and ere grace fades
The time will come when time itself
ceases to run, ceases to exist for us
Our pieces on the board all spent
the reckoning comes - the last door unlocks
When the game is over
it all goes back in the box

So teach us to number our days aright
to have wisdom in our hearts.
Strength for the year ahead,
Renewed mercies for each morning
Sustain us in your abiding grace
as we abide in you, we bear much fruit
Raise in us a holy desperation,
a holy despair with our kingdoms and castles in the air
A righteous despondence with the status quo
and utter disgust at our saccharine trophies which moth and rust destroy
O to be weak enough
to trust you, to rely on you wholly.

More of you, Jesus
and less of me.
That you Increase,
and I decrease.

Amen. אמן

Posted by: JM / 9:08 PM

среда, декабря 12, 2007

Oh Humble King.

The ultimate scandal - the Creator condescends, stooping to be a man, to bear upon Himself all of our brokenness, distress and pain. The only man to deserve no punishment bears the brunt of all mankind's evil. He comes, unassuming, showing us a Way to live and love, and redeems us from ourselves, paying the ultimate cost. Losing Himself, he gains us; losing ourselves, we gain Him. So that to live is Christ, and to die is gain. The topsy-turvy economy of the Kingdom.

You came and served, spent and poured out yourself for us, reserving none for your own. You healed, and gave life, walked on water and caused the blind to see and hearts to open. You gave hope to the hopeless, grace to the guilty, terror to those who control, manipulate and deceive. You were the hero, who broke through our walls to save us from ourselves.

1 In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
2 He was in the beginning with God.
3 All things came into being through Him,
and apart from Him nothing came into being
that has come into being.
4 In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.
5 The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.

9 There was the true Light which,
coming into the world,
enlightens every man.
10 He was in the world,
and the world was made through Him,
and the world did not know Him.

11 He came to His own,
and those who were His own did not receive Him.
12 But as many as received Him,
to them He gave the right to become children of God,
even to those who believe in His name,
13 who were born,
not of blood nor of the will of the flesh
nor of the will of man, but of God.

14 And the Word became flesh,
and dwelt among us,
and we saw His glory,
glory as of the only begotten from the Father,
full of grace and truth.
16 From the fullness of his grace
we have all received one blessing after another.

17 For the law was given through Moses;
grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.
18 No one has ever seen God,
but God the One and Only,
who is at the Father's side,
has made him known.

Posted by: JM / 2:37 PM

пятница, ноября 09, 2007

Spring Rains - Ephemerals

There is something about the rain each spring, that stirs the melancholic in me. It triggers feelings of restlessness, exhaustion, and yet gratefulness, rest and comfort. Ambivalent deep sighs that cannot decide if to be resignation or resolution.

Like the last breath drawn before a deep long dive.

Its been a journey, but more than ever, home and origin now seem distant, hazy and elusive. I'm far away enough now to start wondering. Where have I come from? and does that measure up in where I am going? Is it like chaos theory where one's starting conditions inadvertantly "predict" the final outcome (a paradox then, for a 'chaotic' system)? Is it a closed universe, or is there leeway for grace? A grace singularity, maybe? Perhaps one's past and origin matters less than I thought in this journey of faith. Its always the present process that matters; the product will speak for itself, but it is the now that matters - how I face the present - the present presence.

Its always crossroads, and its always decisions. And yet, at some level, nothing's changed. Its always christmas, its always easter; its always summer, its always winter; its always a drought, its always a deluge; its always laws, its always mercy; its always foolishness; its always wisdom; its always change, its always constant.

Ephemerals - meaning to the transient. Oh, to have a sacramental view to life, to attach meaning and significance to the ordinary, the extraodinary in the mundane. That has faded, like old shades. Have I grown, or is that the effects of 'maturity' or a certain cyni-skeptism that's crept in.

Transcending the transcience, putting landmarks to the journey? Perhaps that is the futility of it all, and a question begging. Perhaps that's not needed, and life is just meant to be lived, breathed, walked, and not analysed, contextualized and verified. There is a certain veneer of incredulity and insincerity in that, cringing much like name-dropping or other nasty social habits. A certain sheer over-romantization.

But I guess at some level, its not a bad thing. Taking stock. True, one does not drive looking through the rear-view mirror, but one has to, sometime. Its important to mark the signposts, but signposts are important for the now, and not good at all in the past tense. Signposts in the rear view mirror are almost useless - inevitably NOTHING tagged on the behind, just the post, and a few rivets. Inadevertantly, after the decision, that event's probability is 1 or 0. Nothing inbetween. Yet we are often muddled up in paralyzing double crossing self doubt.

Friends, fellow pilgrims, let us walk the walk, run the race, fight the good fight. 'Tis grace that's brought us safe thus far, 'tis grace that'll lead us home. His grace is sufficient for me, his glory shines in humble earthern vessels, these fragile treasures within. Come dance with me, come grow old with me, for the best is yet to be.

Amazing Grace
John Newton (1772)

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed!

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, Who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.

Posted by: JM / 1:25 AM

пятница, ноября 02, 2007

Oda a Los Calcetines
(1954 - 1959, english translation below)
Pablo Neruda

Me trajo Mara Mori
un par de calcetines,
que tejió con sus manos de pastora,
dos calcetines suaves como liebres.
En ellos metí los pies
como en dos estuches
tejidos con hebras del
crepúsculo y pellejos de ovejas.

Violentos calcetines,
mis pies fueron dos pescados de lana,
dos largos tiburones
de azul ultramarino
atravesados por una trenza de oro,
dos gigantescos mirlos,
dos cañones;
mis pies fueron honrados de este modo
por estos celestiales calcetines.

Eran tan hermosos que por primera vez
mis pies me parecieron inaceptables,
como dos decrépitos bomberos,
bomberos indignos de aquel fuego bordado,
de aquellos luminosos calcetines.

Sin embargo, resistí la tentación
aguda de guardarlos como los colegiales
preservan las luciénagas,
como los eruditos coleccionan
documentos sagrados,
resistí el impulso furioso de ponerlas
en una jaula de oro y darles cada
día alpiste y pulpa de melón rosado.

Como descubridores que en la selva
entregan el rarísimo venado verde
al asador y se lo comen con remordimiento,
estiré los pies y me enfundé
los bellos calcetines, y luego los zapatos.
Y es esta la moral de mi Oda:
Dos veces es belleza la belleza,
y lo que es bueno es doblemente bueno,
cuando se trata de dos calcetines
de lana en el invierno.

==================================
Ode To My Socks
Pablo Neruda

Maru Mori brought me a
pair of socks that she knit
with her shepherd's hands.
Two socks as soft as rabbit fur.
I thrust my feet inside them
as if they were two little boxes
knit from threads of sunset and sheepskin.

My feet were two woollen fish
in those outrageous socks,
two gangly, navy-blue sharks
impaled on a golden thread,
two giant blackbirds, two cannons:
thus were my feet honored
by those heavenly socks.

They were so beautiful,
I found my feet unacceptable
for the very first time,
like two crusty old firemen,
firemen unworthy of
that embroidered fire,
those incandescent socks.

Nevertheless I fought
the sharp temptation to put them away
the way schoolboys put
fireflies in a bottle,
the way scholars hoard holy writ.

I fought the mad urge
to lock them in a golden cage
and feed them birdseed
and morsels of pink melon every day.

Like jungle explorers who deliver
a young deer of the rarest species
to the roasting spit
then wolf it down in shame,
I stretched my feet forward
and pulled on those gorgeous socks,
and over them my shoes.

So this is the moral of my ode:
beauty is beauty twice over
and good things are doubly good
when you're talking about
a pair of wool socks
in the dead of winter.

Posted by: JM / 8:16 PM

понедельник, октября 22, 2007

Mending Wall
Robert Frost, from North of Boston, 1914

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Posted by: JM / 9:44 PM

среда, октября 10, 2007

In Memoriam - Ode to a Numerical Chamber
September 2004 to September 2007

I devote this entry to the loss of a very faithful gadget, one that's been dependable through rain, hail, snow and dust, through siberian winter to australian summer, to steamy laotian villages in the monsoon, frosty mongolian nights with frozen fingers to the confusion of a barcelona fishmarket, from the great sanctuaries of gothic cathedrals to the open expanse of the pacific on a sail boat.

You have captured moments of joy, mundanity, life, the sacred, the sad; taken comets in glory, mighty constellations, delicate flowers, insects in love, galloping herds of deer, eagles in flight, pods of humpback whales in migration, crackle of great fires. Preserved for time the fickleness of emotions, the journal of travel, marking of births, documented relationships, music and dance and art in motion. Through your humble lenses you have sought to recreate vast deserts, the drama of the wilderness, magic of nacreous clouds, the intimacy of candle light. Friendships, rest, tests and risks. You have been dropped, lost, found, relost and refound; seen some of the best musicians from around the world, taken some astounding cuisine, captured humanity's finest art, and the most fabulous gems in the world. You were a personification of the faithful testifying witness, without bias, without qualms.

Yet now you are silent, alone, misplaced. You reside removed from my influence, lost in the bowels of international flight and schedule. Aloof, your lenses are silent, the apertures no longer obey, the pixels no longer fire. You are gone, faithful scribe. Fare you well. May you one day find your way back, in all mystery...!

You will join my list of stuff to ask God in heaven... along with other missing items/persons that have sometimes kept me awake in the quiet hours. Like whatever happend to my black notebook that I passed around in JC2 or that missing tape recording of the Tolkien poems or that kid on the street in Ulaan Bataar. I believe CS Lewis had some theology/philosophy about such things as you, that somehow you might be restored to me in heaven (even faithful dogs), by virtue that you form an extension of who I might be.

Posted by: JM / 3:28 PM

понедельник, октября 08, 2007

Its been 5 weeks

(jm in post-modern fractured scattered thoughts)

Its been 5 weeks, in 6 cities, thru 7 flights (go figure), 2 conferences,1 gig, and a gadzillion appointments, unexpected and otherwise - an honour. (andrew ong, dawn fung, andrew yu, kh, terence, ck, joel, paul, eva, sueann, lindy cheong, eliza, rudy, sheryl, lennie, audrey, jeff, tammy, judy, vincent, kiong, qy, dawn, jo chia, ps marg, mark yah, yyh, auntie dawn, poi, hsiapin, clement gandon, yixin, sam teo, fang seng, kevin, josh, jacq, merv john, uncle tham, jershillabeletheanna, xl+wj, jyeleanornathan, jhjames, jeanette, bro pat, ives, anna, seow, lam, goon, merv, jinyu, adder, charlene)

Something in that is exhilarating, tiring and fun. But what needs tuning is figuring out what needs relating vs what's nice to dabble. Too many pics, too many faces; i need some space.

to babble, to chill, to process, to hear myself think once again.

Posted by: JM / 7:38 AM

вторник, октября 02, 2007

An Unexpected Sentiment
Sukkot 2007

Its strange, this coming and going, of meetings and farewells, of being present and absernt all at once. Familiarity interposed with uncertainty; songs of silence, tears of joy, grace that's earned. Friends and strangers all rolled into one continuum. The face of Jesus in all we see, the mind of Christ leading us.

How is it that althought I'm "at home", I feel increasingly less at home? This gnawing feeling of increasing unbelonged-ness points things squarely home to the heart. I grow, we grow, I move, we move on, lives lived. We have all changed. But furthermore, cynicism and crustiness creep inevitably into our hearts and the crevices of our minds. How much is growth, and how much is a numbed heart? Why the longing for belonging, why standing to be understood?

Lives interconnected, intertwined, of unexpected serendipities, chance meetings and divine appointments. What does it mean? Do these things that fall into place have a greater design, a higher wisdom? Do I meet you out of obligation, chance or ordination, and what are the implications for each? What is the process for earning your wings?

There is something in this mirage, something waiting to be learnt. The breeze begins to blow, I know the Spirit's call. And it melts, it melts into his love.

Oh I Want To Know You More
Steve Fry

Just the time I feel that I’ve been caught in the mire of self.
Just the time I feel my mind’s been bought by worldly wealth.
That’s when the breeze begins to blow I know the Spirit’s call.
And all the worldly wanderings just melt into His love.

Oh I want to know You more. Deep within my soul I want to know You.
Oh I want to know You;
To feel Your heart and know Your mind, looking in Your eyes stirs up within me,
Cries that say I want to know You,
Oh I want to know You more, Oh I want to know You more.

When my daily needs ordinarily loses life and song.
My heart begins to bleed: sensitivity to Him is gone.
I’ve run the race but set my pace and face a shattered soul.
But the gentle arms of Jesus warm my hunger to be whole.

Oh I want to know You more. Deep within my soul I want to know You.
Oh I want to know You;
And I would give my final breath, to know You in Your death and resurrection
Cries that say I want to know You,
Oh I want to know You more, Oh I want to know You more.

Posted by: JM / 5:00 AM

пятница, сентября 28, 2007

Annus Mirabilis

I think all things being fair, this 27th year of existence would probably have to be the most remarkably eventful. Its been twelve months of stepping out, growing, learning and stretching. This isn't to say there haven't been more exciting episodes in my limited days, but this has felt like one LONG deep breath held down longer than I should have.

Lets see what I can recall...
- Vince visits, followed by Terence the next week, then Merv John two weeks after, hotly followed by Audrey, Ruth, Christine and Mylene in the midst of a very wet, cold november!
- my first presentation at an academic conference, at Human Communication Science network (HCSnet) Summerfest 2006 end november
- said goodbye to housemates Andrew and Jiaming, and farewell to good friend Judy; car-sat for Aaron.
- Christmas spent in Townsville for Stable on the Strand 2006, where I got to be the friendly neighbourhood village snake charmer playing my pipes in the market place to a dancing fuzzy Ikea snake, over 6 nights to several thousand visiting townsfolk - grandparents to teens and toddlers; additionally we did a very random 'alt-worship' gig over at the youth tent, featuring keys, irish low whistles and overtone singing! Thanks to the Frewen-Lords and Jared!
- New year's eve with Adeline along the Cahill Expressway, thanks to extra tickets from John Smith
- Sydney festival with friends Ernest and Adeline, early jan
- Dan Laurin arrives in sydney for two weeks of intensive measurements, end jan
- Singapore for CNY over three weeks, 67 appointments and errands, including another worship gathering
- back to sydney for the start of a new session, early march
- Womadelaide2007
- Fang Seng and Hubert visit
- Eva visits
- Measurements begin with Jim N, mid April
- Paul arrives, hunter and Tets courtesy of Michio O.
- ISMA and ICA paper deadlines! mid may
- Xiaolin and Weijie visit, early june
- acquired a car!
- Adelaide - Coober Pedy - Uluru - A Springs road trip with Wernz and Chloe et al mid june
- Chloe visits, end June
- Hillsong conference, bump into Matt Chern, Adriana!
- Wesley album recording, courtesy of wernz. low whistles, didj and guit
- Arlen F from the NYPhil arrives, and some measurements on contra begins
- presenter for Channel Ten Scope, Science and Music
- crazy preparation for conference: measurements on saxophonists and data analysis
- presentation at AMPS 2007 august session
- 26-hour spore stopover, catching kiong, anna, ivy, andrew and a haircut!
- presentation at ICA2007 madrid and ISMA2007 barcelona; along the way, toledo, montserrat and paris; jammed with the Hang, Didj, Mouthbow and Jaw-harp
- spore stopover, with another gadzillion errands and appts, DesertSongs, and another year ahead.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Posted by: JM / 3:33 AM