Take a Chance

Abba was playing on mute while I sped browsed through the store deafening my senses with the new Jimmy Eat World single. This is a really cyber-hyper post modern world we live in. Or these people live in. These people who once made things real difficult for me, in my not so humble opinion.

So in a crowded lost city, what are the chances of collision. One in a million and yet it took place. I questioned why God would have it and while I would not encourage anyone to read too much spiritual cosmos into it, I think it is just plain bizzare happening this way. With even an expression priceless in the way it went, etched in my mind the whole day - the one turn off for the year. Enough to light a million angry light bulbs. And I just stole that last line from Jack Johnson.

Jack Johnson bouyed me into the other side of my consciousness and delivered me into the hands of some beautiful images of chinese artifacts for lunch. Good timing and good shopping. Our disappointment with the stress of mordern movies brought us to the outdoor park of music and caffeine. Which was what launched me into some familiar territories that didn't use to cost me that much.

Sarah and I spoke briefly on today's subject matter. And we have so much to catch up on. I miss home already.

The Distance from here

Hope filled, joy spun movies playing before my very eyes. Take me to the sea and wash this linen clean, if clean is what you want us to be.

God is becoming a concept these days, void of personal love and touch. Yet, that is the opposite of my journey and experience.

I watched as amazement overtook the lifeless limbs lying on the wet downtrodden ground. The rain has been pelting for days on end. Flash floods threatening to drown out the lingering ones. I am really shell shocked to notice the significance of the difference. The few subtle choices we all make, lead us up roads of wealth and creation. Unfolding, unnerving performances that relflect an empty core emptied out before life could begin.

I choose to be grateful. I choose to hope. I choose to look up. I choose to outstretch. I choose to strech, even pull my teeth out so I could give. Give of myself so I could be empty to be filled. I choose to cover my heart. I choose open my life. I choose to explore and not abandon. I choose faith, not disappointment. I choose life. I choose full of grace, believing in everyone, waiting for no one. I choose to run. I choose to work. I choose the short lived pleasures so I can have the long life of joy, greatness that trots over these mountains of suffering.

God's design is perfect and incredible. I choose to be part of the process. Remember me this day.

--Borders--

The checkout was relatively easy. My apprehension must have been written all over my face at some stage. The reception at the gate was a tad shifty – eyes darting through seemingly intended scrutiny. Pretty lass she was, but her eyes could have killed anything. Perhaps that’s what they are paid for, trained for and sitting there for.

Yet there stands my paranoia, eating away at the toes, unconvinced, unreal, unexplainable.

So now, here I go, picking up my things once again after the mad rush through the streets of Richmond and slow moving grannies. What is on the other side, I must relinquish them into the hands of the one weaving my orchestra into place.

With one last deep breath, here we go…

cjt


--7 hour drive--

It’s beginning to set in. The aftermath of the seven-hour drive, like the seven mantras that took 3 minutes to write, setting into my core being, owning the drive of my gear shift.

It’s funny to come to this stage again where nothing on my iPod appeals to me anymore. It’s like I’ve aged 40 years ahead of my time, seen it all, understanding the groans behind the lyrics. What I can do without.

My association of late, well, it’s been a good two years, have been soul searching, soul deconstructing – to purge out the undergrowth for a clearer clarity of who I am; who I am in the light of God’s construct of his humanity. I’m coming to understand and it is exciting to know that my humanity can do so much – a fine line between mediocrity and greatness.

A wise sage I met at the footsteps of the sports hall told me that a good life is the enemy of a great life. Life seems good now. Good enough to live cheque to check. Good enough to save a little at a time for the good old days of ripe old age to sit by the backyard watching the kids tumble in the weed. That is good.

I remember my first mentor, in a series of many to come, used to keep drumming the birth right of my being – that I was born to be great – to do what no man does. In a series of my years, meeting phenomenal individuals who spoke specifically into my life, lifting me out of the coffee shop blues and canal play things, have one consistency: pioneering, beginning, ground breaking.

When someone gave me a door through to a new hope, he asked me what it was that I really wanted in life. There were the proverbial success catchphrases. But mine came right down the bottom of the pocket card. Leaving a legacy.

Fast forward two years and I am still on this journey of figuring out the meaning of what I chose. It’s like mum and dad asking you what you wanted to be when you grew up and you spend the good half rest of your life, figuring out what that really takes. Or what it means to begin with. Some of us freak out and settle. Some of us get confused along the way. Some of us suffer from amnesia as a result. Most of us don’t even get close to realizing where to begin.

God knows how many times I settled. It’s not that funny looking back with an attitude of anal retention of self-mutilation for the missed boats and flights. Time and again, He sent messengers: individuals, books, movies and children to pull me back up onto dry land again.

On that seven-hour drive back, conversations surrounded what it meant to get to the summit. And here I am reading about the journey up. Which makes me really grateful – emotional and the works. On the drive into the sports centre, my heart leapt with such joy knowing that I am in good hands, good company, no great company of friends who will not choose to settle, for that is the culture overflown from some incredible lives. Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if the choices made were different.

Which makes me think. I’m only just beginning. I’m only just starting to write my story, log my choices. What is God going to do with my life and the apparent choices I have chosen? What will my story be? What will the legacy smell like? I can only imagine, envision, dream and believe.

I am not my story yet.

cjt


--Service--

The attendants here seem to have a particular trait of serving beverages. I swear I probably had 10 juices in the last 4 hours. Every 15 minutes, they’re around with trays full of cordial type juices. Is it an Austrian thing? Imagine, Vienna the land of constant water parades.

Except this is not regiment, though the frequency must have been some form of safety protocol to get everyone hydrated. Perhaps they got sued before.

cjt

Dash

Boarding the plane in two days are some very dear people. My socks are excited out of me and already making headway through the thicket. My Tuesday date is fixed for a week.

One weekend after the last, seems I've been over committing to the organization of events. Breakfast on a Saturday morning is now a luxury. Housemates been saying something. Saying, to me, a form of role reversal. Once I had all the time in the world with friends too busy serving the needs of others in their community. Now, it seems, even after enlisting in the fold, my predecessors are changing gear. But does it really have to matter?

I'm tired. Stop analyzing.

Over the threshold

Pain is more than just a word illusive to comprehend. A word that has appeared in my back catalogue of half written and archived songs one too many times. Some metaphorically implied, some plainly expressed.

Towards the start of the songwriters' gathering, I felt a deep sense of pain - a million needles and thread weaving in and out trying to repair the broken tissues only to create massive bleeding and possible heart failure. It's like a hungry heart kicking and screaming. Most of the night I was distracted, or allowed myself to be, so I could lure away the imagery described above. Didn't really do much but treated the surface symptoms, much like traditional western medicine.

And here I go again. That same grip that held me breathless and nauseous is slowly creeping up my lungs, threatening. I don't quite understand why. Except it got triggered by one rude phone call out of the blue from a potential client. Words associated with it were, cornered, interogated, bullied. A friend chided my response as unprofessional - which in a textbook situation is rightly so. Given the heat of the moment, I could have and should have. But...

So here I am, at the end of the rope, still lingering in the gunshot wounds applied at half time. Time is ticking away and I am losing sleep. I don't understand this occurence. Wish it would go away. Wish you would go away too.

Different World

Just came to my attention that most of my mates, here and around, are from pretty different worlds. Different societal norms that cultivated in them very different frames of mind. Things that I am remotely familiar with. Things that I can't even begin to give a description of.

I write these thoughts but wonder if anyone would understand or bother to. Which might just prove the point. But the world doesn't revolve around me, so I guess the cliche is proven.

So days where I might feel lonely does validate the fact that these foreign modes are what I have on my hands. But left to these devices, I usually change with the temperature and blend. Interesting that my experiences have given me that leverage.

Which makes me the cliche global citizen, capable of changing with the times to filter into every social class. I love it.

Under the night light

Cigars and moonlight, friends from the south east and beer from different continents.

A commonly unused balcony now filled with scenes of peanuts, beer and a foreign flavor with a local twist. Chatting uncontrollably under the stars filling the void that is the potential for sad departing episodes. Guess the few here would have it postponed for the day following. So here we are, savouring the moments of kinship.

Conversations of family ties and familiar things that used to embarass us at the dinner table now free exchanges among these exiles from the south east. I watched and participated with visions of not too distant memories.

There's talk of barbecues, picnics and get together parties. The potential is just brewing. We're just nomads beginning.

Grow Old With You

We're turning in earlier these days. Some of us workers of the system, some of us freelancers of the free world. Some of us gamers in the kingdom, some of us soldiers in the game of war. Whatever we are doing here on this southern side of the hemisphere, we are changing our habits of once nocturnal beings.

The MTV Video Awards on free to air ended some minutes ago. Here I am in this room reviewing the music videos that caught my attention. Mostly, I sat through the celebration - at times losing its momentum of grip. Sarah fell asleep on the couch, while I got distracted with who the performing artist was. One thing was dominant - hip hop artists took centre stage. The rest were just hosts or peripheral fillers. Where is rock and roll? I could not recognize most of the artists, except for some familiar ones who've been around for the past 5 years. This could be that sign of us growing old.

Which brings me back to what I started with. Here I am, in my room, almost ready to take the plunge and it's only 11.30pm. The house is drifting into dusk, only the water in the bath could be heard. When you notice thhat, it's a sign that's bedtime. Or this could just be Melbourne. The land where life stops after 6. Having been around, I ought to have gotten used to it.

I'm refusing to give in, but duty beckons with a 9.00am alarm bell. Sometimes I wonder why I signed up for passion. Now I'm hooked on the game, and its time to duplicate myself.