EXPLORATION AND STILLNESS

In case you are following our travels: In a few days (on March 31), we will be ending our time in Malaysia (and Southeast Asia) and land in Korea. For the first two months and a half, we will be in Yangpyeong at the same place where we stayed twice before. We look forward to ending our “itinerant” lifestyle and settling down to create a hospitable space to welcome people.

Stillness is vital to the world of the soul. If as you age you become more still, you will discover that stillness can be a great companion. The fragments of your life will have time to unify, and the places where your soul-shelter is wounded or broken will have time to knit and heal. You will be able to return to yourself. In this stillness, you will engage your soul. Many people miss out on themselves completely as they journey through life. They know others, they know places, they know skills, they know their work, but tragically, they do not know themselves at all. Aging can be a lovely time of ripening when you actually meet yourself, indeed maybe for the first time. There are beautiful lines from T. S. Eliot that say:

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

 John O'Donohue, Anam Cara (italicized mine)

The above words by John O’Donohue showed up in my recent social media feed. It was not the first time reading it, but I have a few more years under my belt to reflect on when I first encountered it. When I first read O’Donohue’s book, Anam Cara, years ago, it was as if I had found a “soul friend” (that’s what Anam Cara means in Irish) in him. Faced with suffering and “dark night of the soul” times, he accentuated taking a long loving look at what is real to another level of depth and perception. Thus, making the real more real and accessible to fellow pilgrims such as I. As I began reading his other works, I regretted his untimely death as he was only a few years older than me. 

The goal of my life, and for all humanity, is union with God through Christ. Union with God necessitates an up-and-down lifelong endeavor, patience, and courage. Though no one can say that one has achieved the perfect union during one's lifetime, one can experience intermittent union with God as a luring foretaste of what is ultimately to come. To use a biblical expression, the utter complete union with God is what we are saved for, circling all the way back to how God created mankind to be. 

Then, what are we saved from? We are saved from being in dis-union or separation with God. From the hopeless and unaware dis-union-ness with God, we awake from the illusion as separated individuals from God to an awakened realization that we are not rejected and forgotten orphans but God’s beloved children. We awake from a realization that we do not belong to anything or to somethings that replaced God to willing submission and belonging to God and God’s original and creative design. The initial submission is the first sign that we have taken the step toward being saved. We are then saved from the illusion of an orphan spirit to awareness of belonging as God’s children. 

The God language—from being in dis-union to union with God—can be vague and ethereal and simply has too much room for all kinds of unhelpful interpretations and wild fillers. How do you bring the language down to earth, to our lives? One way to touch the ground is to replace God with ourselves. In other words, we are saved from being in dis-union, compartmentalized, broken, and with multi-layered shadows with ourselves to being in union, integrated, whole, healed, with ourselves. 

This is where O’Donohue’s words are authoritatively inviting and promising, “You will be able to return to yourself.” In O’Donohue’s mind, stillness is a non-negotiable discipline especially as we age to be able to return to ourselves, explaining the phrase “able to,”—to our original selves, what God meant, before the sin and ego entered. 

One can never achieve the union with God without the union with oneself. We are saved from ourselves to being ourselves, from made-up to original, from our false selves to true selves, if you will. The quest of our life then centers around discerning how we came into dis-union with ourselves and how dis-union displays itself through our lives. Honesty and vulnerability to ourselves are added requirements as we cannot sleepwalk through this process. “Believing,” as in cognitive assent to “right doctrines,” cannot save us, while ignoring the existential struggle of being our true original selves, contrary to what we have been programmed to think.

The notion and process of our salvation, from to to, extend beyond ourselves, though it is the essential and practical starting point. Otherness has to come into our view as we pursue being in union with ourselves and God. And it will and it must. The enlarging circle and impact of the union do not end with us, but with God’s entire creation—the world God so loved to send God’s son, Jesus—others and otherness, others as in other people and peoples, otherness as in everything that was created by God. Here, we begin to understand God’s magnanimous purpose of drawing everything back to God, including us and especially us. Reconciliation is the word Apostle Paul used repeatedly. We can only live our lives, which is one reason why we must own and steward our lives. At the same time, we keep our eyes open and see the bigger reality of what God is doing and what God can do through people who are committed to the union journey.

Both O’Donohue and T.S. Eliot use the language that is intuitively familiar to our soul, “return” and “arrive where we started” evoke the sense of homecoming, a hero or heroine’s coming home to ourselves. So, we ultimately will return after years and often a lifetime of “exploring,” and with the divine help of “stillness,” we can finally come home. 

Even as I am currently far from my physical home, I feel closer to coming home. Not to harp too much on turning 60 this year, but I am at a crossroads of having done tons of exploring in my life and being in stillness. I do not think my exploring is done but it is slowing down for sure. There has definitely been more stillness that allows me to face and meet myself, in celebration and shame, in guilt and victory, and in brokenness and wholeness, all with honesty and grace, with smile and tears. It is out of this stillness that I think I can help others to become still and learn from my fumbling and explorations as well as theirs.

That is decisively my latest and perhaps my last exploration. 

SUPERNATURAL, NATURAL, AND INTENTIONAL

“It feels like we are living the ‘Acts of the Apostles, not unlike Apostle Paul’s itinerant missionary journeys,’” my wife shared with one woman we met in Singapore. The woman questioned Grace, knowing that I love living like a river flows (I wondered how she got that vibe from me) she was curious how Grace, a homebody type, would respond. This was the second time I heard my wife articulate her response in the same way. The first time I heard her, I resonated resoundingly. Ever since, the thought lingered, and I have been mulling over the transient imagery of yore off and on. As imagery is “the representation of one thing by another thing,” as described by Mary Oliver, both The Book of Acts and “the river flowing, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding” imageries are helpful representations of what this Asian trip has been about. Along with the Acts of the Apostles’ vivid verbiage, my wife also used “surprised by joy” multiple times with me and others along the trip. Since joy is a primal relational emotion based on “someone is glad to be with you,” I concur completely. 

The phrases in the 13th Chapter of The Book of Acts “so, being sent out by the Holy Spirit,” (v. 4) “continue in the grace of God,” (v. 42), and “the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit” (v. 52) all detail our acute awareness of how God is moving in the midst of us. Though ultimately sent out by the Holy Spirit, we were also sent out by our church (communities of our dear family, friends, and supporters) and sustained by the grace of God and the support of the people and being filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit along the travel. One has to wonder why Luke used both joy and the Holy Spirit. Our elemental joy comes from God being glad to be with us every step of the way and so joy portrays the pinnacle of human emotion that comes closest to being in union with God. Just perhaps. . .

My big picture mind organizes and describes the expanding movement of the Acts of the Apostles in three interdependent ways: supernatural, natural, and intentional. Supernatural is the arena where God is not hindered in any way. The Holy Spirit is compared to wind, in both Hebrew and Greek translations, unhindered and free as well as invisible but undeniable. God gets to be God in doing God’s work, unhindered and untethered. We as humans witness them as miracles, wonders, and even mysteries. Our rightful and only response is awe and inspiration resulting in deepened trust in God’s goodness and unconditional love. Supernatural is also the arena where reasons and explanations fall short. Thus, it cannot be fully known and understood. During a morning walk in historic Georgetown, Penang (Malaysia), I felt a deep sense of God’s presence and peace. Spotify played a random song, Angel, by Forestella (a group I never heard before), I was captivated by the song and thought of all the “angels” in my life. The ones I know and the ones I do not. My natural world intersected with the supernatural world of God, inexplicably and unexplainably. Lastly, the supernatural keeps the mortals humble, in a good poverty mindset, and in the grey (seeing the reality dimly at best), groping for words for clarity, and thus our words are almost always approximations. Which invariably is one reason why we need one another to shed light, listen, and learn. 

Natural is the arena where God invades our lives and makes them plain. God is so much at home in the natural that God remains hidden and unimagined in our day-to-day lives. God comes to us and thus becomes accessible in the natural through all five physical senses. Humanity’s five senses become the meeting point between the supernatural and the natural. One of the most critical spiritual disciplines is related to discernment and awareness of God in the natural. It seems that God stoops down too much to a point where God is not being seen. Natural is also where ordinaries of life rule the day or the extraordinary incarnates into the ordinary. We break breads, share, listen, laugh, cry, and be together. We work, rest, play, get sick, and get well. God does not ignore the naturals as infantile, immature, or inferior. Instead, God fully expects us to live as full humans, full natural humans if you will, experiencing all emotions, trials, sufferings, joy, and love. Natural is where the rubber meets the road and makes our spiritual life relevant and grounded and thus serves as a sweet aroma of Christ incarnated in humanity.

Intentional is a practical way for me to focus and keep the main thing, main thing, which is to live out Christ in me and I in Christ. I remain engaged intentionally, planning, moving forward, assured that God is with me. This is where I don’t sit still or wait, I move, in faith, being confident I travel the same road with God. In planning for this trip, there is a rhythm of waiting, but also there is a time to act, decide where to go, who to meet, and what to do. Paul and Barnabas had their own method to their madness which was to visit synagogues upon entering towns wherever there were synagogues. A couple of times when there was no synagogue, think Philippi, Paul went to the river to pray, looking for the spiritually aware and the awake, and there he met Lydia. And the rest is history. Intentional is what we must do to manage walking our path and build rhythm and routine to act, an act to experience God and to share with the world what God is doing. 

The dance between supernatural, natural, and intentional requires being in step with the Holy Spirit, my soul, and others. As such, I am learning to listen and discern and move. 

Though we don’t come anywhere near to what Apostle Paul and his traveling companions endured, being flocked, ridiculed, ship-wrecked, bitten by a poisonous snake, hungry, sleep deprived, misunderstood, betrayed, etc, we still experienced our privileged modern problems and hassles of dizzying travels. We were cheated, denied entry, suffered stomach issues and colds (tested twice for COVID but came out negative), almost a broken toe, blister, or simply stared at for looking different. We have way more stuff than Paul and his companions, but far less than what we used to have had we stayed at home. And discovering we don’t need much to live life, one suitcase per person. We have slept in 17 different beds (and still counting) in more than 10 cities. We received generous hospitality and gifts from people everywhere. We offered hospitality, created space, listened, and shared. We served as a courier of monetary gifts and care packages, as a broker of joy and prayers linking multiple communities, together solved some problems and raised new ones. We gave courage and received courage to be and do. We laughed until we shed tears of joy and cried until we laughed. 

The biggest gift of them all has been the discovery that my personal pilgrim journey matters and intersects well with people in Asia. My story can be a source of gift and encouragement to Asian people, and I can draw parallels from others’ stories with little or no effort. A few distinctives of my spiritual journey have been that of freedom, expansiveness, and generosity that rest on God’s amazing love. As an evangelist and apostle of such freedom, I now have a broader embrace and focus on Asia, with Korea at the forefront. I do not know how I know, but I know. And I would not have known that had we not traveled the way we did, like the river and wind. 

PAUSE

Being in new environments, there is a plethora of fresh external stimuli that keeps me on high alert and my senses engaged. Since they are new and fresh, I can’t coast along like a pro, and understandably, while the stimuli are not overly exciting, they are neither pallid nor boring. One stimulus that begs my full attention is the movement and flow of traffic. (We are currently in Bandung, Indonesia as I write.) Due to the army of scooters not unlike busy bees buzzing around a flower garden from one flower to another, in addition to cars and buses of all sizes, in an already crammed and narrow streets often with no signal lights, one must be on full alert, especially for someone who is on foot. I heard that only foreigners walk around everywhere in town and that is us. As it is hard to walk side by side with my wife next to me, we often walk in a single file with me in front. As such, it adds an extra dimension of mindfulness on my part assuring my wife is okay behind me. I wish I had eyes on the back of my head. And no, I do not want you to imagine . . . 

While the external stimuli work overtime whenever we step out, my internal orientation is in deep peace and my soul serene. It is like watching lightning and thunderstorms and the whole works followed by a torrential downpour while sipping coffee indoors with a good book in my hand. This repeated scene has been etched in my mind in our Southeast Asia swing. Peace is not an absence of troubles or concerns. It is the peace and contentment of being in the right places at the right time, in step with the Giver of Peace. The inner peace allows us to lay a spacious foundation of listening to people we meet with. During our Asian trekking so far, our ministry is that of deep loving listening. We lean in to listen and create a safe and sacred space. Often, there is no fixing, providing solutions, or advising on our part. A few times we have offered “next steps,” we speak tenderly, using tentative and wondering language. And we couch our offerings based on our unique and personal journeys. Thus, they are invited to accept, mull over, or simply pass on. 

The people we have listened to range from younger to older, from singles to couples, from Protestants to Catholics, and from destitute to grateful, and from confused to clear. We have listened to people in cars, buses, in their homes, cafes, restaurants, while walking, and over zoom. Our ears are bigger and our hearts more capacious. The joy of listening blossoms as God encourages us when we share the joy of people discovering their answers to their own questions and finding their next steps, both big and small. Most of the time, I do not have answers. Even on the few occasions when I thought I had some clever advice, I pulled back largely because of my experiences of how I have grown and learned through self-discovery.

Looking back, I have grown the most at times through raising questions, and seldom through answers. Finding answers is one-layered learning whereas questioning forces multiple-layered learning and often burrows into deeper probing beyond the original question. Pursuing questions with questions allows me to dig deep and deeper. There has been a progression of learning in my life: from answering questions to questioning the answers to questioning the questions. (Tangentially, this trajectory of learning congrueres a great deal with the life stages of construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction. In the reconstruction phase of our life, we end up in a very different place from where we started, but it needed all our construction and deconstruction phases to get there. Nothing is wasted in that sense.)

While in Singapore, I realized that there is one more necessary element toward growth and maturity. In fact, it stands shoulder to shoulder with questioning; it is pause. Or Selah as the psalmists called it. While framed as punctuated insertions in poetic lines or songs, I think much of the Psalms is trying to grope with the reality of who God is and how God “walks” on the earth. The groping is questioning, questioning to understand what can be understood and what cannot be. Mystery is not mystery because it is unknowable. Rather, mystery is mystery because it is endlessly knowable, like endless-layered seeing, perceiving, and understanding. (I owe this insight to Richard Rohr.) In this vein, we see and grow in what can be known and understood in a series of depth in selah. Letting go or unknowing what we think are the knowns, we are positioned to know the unknowable layer after layer. Naturally, the deeper and more profound the questions, the longer the pause. The word selah in the Psalms, which appears 74 times, means “stop and listen.” While we can listen on the fly, deep listening to God, ourselves, and others is not possible without stopping. We stop to listen, and we listen to stop. 

Pause or selah is entering God’s domain, inviting us to relinquish our control or our need for control. Pause is the sacred space where God is God, and we are reminded we are mere mortals. Pause embraces confusion and feeling distraught without needing to fix or seeking untimely solutions. Pause creates the space where primal hope and faith reside. Pause necessitates our letting go of control. Pause is not pause when still holding onto control and our sense of clarity. Pause is because clarity isn’t. As long as one tries to maintain control and clarity, one cannot properly enter pause. Selah is an act of faith, the highest and the purest kind, that transfers our ownership of control to God and God’s timing. (The thought that we actually own anything is an illusion to begin with.) As God’s time is not our time, waiting for God’s time (which is waiting for God) stands as a repetitive theme of the entire Psalms. The repeated interplay of question and the selah provide the most perfect breeding ground for deep transformation. It is the holy ground where we are invited to “take off our shoes,” enter God’s domain (Kingdom), and properly align with God’s grace-filled sovereignty and mystery. 

GROUNDED

Encouraged by my wife, I picked up a good old-fashioned notebook (spiral kind) and a 0.3 mm black Muji pen and began writing with my initially reluctant but ultimately submissive hand for the last two weeks. Due to the fact that my laptop has been in the shop (though I finally got it back a few days ago), I was constrained to resort to writing in a notebook. Understandably, when my laptop went away, I was mentally lost, not knowing how to navigate life without one. Shocked may be too strong a word, but it lands close enough. This pattern of writing, trying to express the stream of my consciousness, (I can’t remember the last time I wrote this much with a pen) generates a differentiated energy, one that is surprisingly simple but rich and ancient but new, compared to using a keyboard. I am not dictating what I would write before I start writing. I start out by listening to my heart and mind, and my hand follows. It is not that I was not free before, but it certainly feels freer. For good reasons, using a pen to write and actually tracing my hand moving and the pages being filled with my own scrawl feels earthy and far more natural. For reasons hard to put into words, there is more creative energy and flow, and feels less burdensome. It is akin to a river flowing rather than swimming in a placid reservoir, not knowing what’s coming after each river bend.

We arrived in Singapore early yesterday morning. Though during my heydays I must have been to Singapore close to 20 times, I cannot remember the most recent time I was here. Like Singapore of years past, Singapore is still a uber-clean and extremely well-organized country. I feel safe here and in the sea of black-haired Asian people, I feel right at home. Then there is the sticker shock freshly coming from Malaysia. On a cursory level, almost everything is triple the cost. Once we landed, someone texted us that the sun came out to greet our arrival as it rained all week last week. Having felt welcomed, we are ready to meet and interact with our “old and new” acquaintances that feel more like friends and fellow pilgrims along the journey. 

As we are about 7 weeks into our grand trip, I counted 13 different beds so far in 9 different cities in 3 countries, not counting Vietnam. We are living our nomadic life full to the hilt. What I always imagined and desired living as digital nomads is happening in real-time. There is not much deviation or surprises from what I had envisioned before the trip except for the typical mundane challenges of living out of suitcases, doing laundry, and wanting fresh vegetables (for my wife) and a big thick ribeye steak (for me). The longest stretch in one location lasted about 3 weeks toward the very beginning of our time in Malaysia. That stretch served us well as it helped us be anchored and find rhythm in a new region. 

One of the challenges I noticed just yesterday is regarding my future fixations related to our itinerant travel schedule. The fixations have robbed (and may continue to rob) my ability to focus on the present. Anxiety, excitement, and curiosities all play dutiful roles in pulling me out of the present. The constant packing and moving and the pace of our movement trigger all the emotional qualities related to anxiety, excitement, and curiosity. Ever since my spectacular Vietnam trip failure, I have become more cognizant of travel-related details leading to a heightened sense of anxiety. Furthermore, I have learned to pay attention to my wife’s energy as her energy level drains faster than mine. Once, I dragged her around the streets of Paris trying to look for the most perfect restaurant and she ran out of steam. Paying attention to my wife’s energy level creates a healthy awareness of putting her first over my Energizer Bunny energy. (I was born in the Year of the Rabbit!) Excitement and curiosities envelope qualities of my boundless adventuresome and risk-filled spirit. I know I think ahead and anticipate what’s in the future too much to a point that I am far from being grounded in the present. At a very mundane but real level, when my wife and I were in Penang, Malaysia just last week where all the great culinary food seemingly originated, we would be eating something delicious, but I am already thinking ahead as to what I can eat at the next meal and tomorrow’s meals. On one afternoon, I took my wife along the culinary journey of consuming Char Kuey Teow, Curry Laksa, Cendol, Prawn Mee, and Oyster Omelet. All after 5 pm! I finished most of these dishes by myself with very little help from my wife. It was a good thing the portions were small. But I was full until 11 pm. . . 

What can be tricky is establishing a rhythm that works on the fly. Losing my laptop forced me to create a rhythm that I did not expect or am accustomed to. Writing in a notebook with a pen where I can see my hand moving and my own handwriting dictates my mind to travel at the speed of my handwriting. I let my mind wander and let my pen lead to capture what my heart wants to express. It is a new discipline and a rhythm where I begin to see the benefits of being grounded and connecting to the present moment. 

On the one hand, my mind slows down to match the speed of my handwriting. On the other hand, there are times when my pen cannot keep up with my mind’s speed. But I am learning that my pen is the master, and my mind is the servant, contrary to the expected. In this way, the present is the master that impels my futuristic mind to engage in the present, pulling me down to the earth to join the body and touch the ground. I know I need this as the ground bears constant and faithful witness to my earthly steps. In order for me to access “free as the sky,” I need to learn the lesson of touching the ground. 

“THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY”

It was an “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” Though it is the day after, the reverberated pang and sting has not left me completely. I “know” God’s tender and loving mercies are new every morning, but I have not fully embraced God’s mercies due to my ego refusing to accept the failure from yesterday. The fact that I can smile like “man-cub” Mowgli (in The Jungle Book) with his signature smile with one side of his lip tilted upward today is perhaps enough of consolation. I tried to laugh it off yesterday, but it was the unnatural, weird, and sulky kind. And I knew it.

We (missionary friends, their two girls, and us) had planned to go to Danang, Vietnam for a short get away over the weekend. Vietnam was on my radar for quite some time, mostly for gastronomic reasons, thanks to numerous travels shows. We would also celebrate our friend’s birthday in Vietnam. I had reserved the hotel and they booked the air tickets. They carry Korean passports and have been working in Malaysia for more than two decades.

We cleared out of our Airbnb with ease, having packed our luggage the night before. As my wife never wants to do anything last minute, we have been ready to finally go to Vietnam. There was one hurdle, my laptop. I had to drop my laptop off at a repair shop for it was not charging. Flustered, I grumbled why today. I also knew without my laptop; it would break my rhythm of writing.

After my laptop was dropped off, we hurriedly went to the airport. At the departure counter, I was told that I needed to get visa to enter Vietnam. My eyes got widened firstly out of disbelief. I googled to find out that one can either get the visa prior or apply for visa on arrival in country. I showed the agent what I found. She took a picture of it and called her supervisor. In the meantime, I am scrambling to apply for a visa online and experiencing all kinds of problems with WIFI and technicalities of different versions of explanations. Shortly after, we were told that visa on arrival was no more in effect and that we could not fly without having received a visa. As we were getting closer to the boarding time, we told the other couple that they should go without us. We would stay back to secure our visa and possibly join them later in the night or tomorrow.

I discovered the Embassy of Vietnam open at 2 pm (They open only 2 days out of the week) so naturally one more reason to remain positive. Since the embassy is near the KL center, we had to back track to go into the downtown, using express train, subway, and Grab taxi, which is more than an hour ordeal. By the time we got to the embassy, it was past 2 pm, thinking and assuming all along we could still get the visa and join the other couple. I mean we were going to Vietnam to spend money and do R & R and promote how wonderful Vietnam was. What country would not accept tourists!

After dutifully filling out the visa application and paying outrageous amount for passport-sized photos from an opportunistic vendor just outside the embassy, we were told that the earliest turnaround time would be about 5 days (3 working days). The embassy worker’s answer was so plain and simple and even kind that a five-year-old could understand. But somehow, I could not process their policy through my crumbling frame of mind. Looking back, it must have taken half an hour to finally sink in. . .

Now, I was faced with a brand-new problem. We were homeless. We needed a place to stay for the next four nights. After communicating with the couple who had just landed in Danang about how sorry, disappointed, and disheartened we were. I was finally able to shift my focus from going to Vietnam at all costs to now deciding on where we would stay. We decided to use our hotel points to stay at KL Chinatown and do our own short city getaway.

During the travel to the embassy while there was still raging hope in my mind, I thought and muttered unkind words to myself, blaming me for the whole fiasco, and with very good reasons. This was one perfect opportunity to blast myself. Since I fanned the flame in going to Vietnam in the first place to the other couple, I naturally felt responsible. (They were extremely gracious the whole time.) What drove me more than anything else was not to disappoint them. I was willing to pay an arm and a leg to show up in Vietnam. My wife later kindly pointed out that I was cutting in front of others while walking to the embassy and simply inconsiderate almost like a madman or a very focused man. I accepted her correction because I knew that was what I was doing. My “love” for the couple somehow became worthy enough reason to justify my inconsiderate and childish behaviors to strangers. I had failed to love strangers in trying to love my friends.

When love is love, love is to all and for all. No one is excluded. No one person or group of people is a means to loving a few in the end. Love must include all the means and all the ends. Love cannot be an isolated love only to a few while ignoring or making the rest irrelevant or obsolete, and thus failing to love. Deeper still, God cannot be the end or the object of our love by hating or loving less of some people. That love for God would be blasphemous and hypocritical because we have not loved as God would love along the way. On yet another layer, I cannot love God by hating or loving less of myself. That would be a rejection of God’s unconditional love for my soul. Loving God, loving myself, and loving others are all interconnected and interdependent, needing all three loves toward union with God.

Though it was one of the most terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, I had learned an unforgettable lesson, making yesterday an unforgettable day.

“LIVING POETRY” AND RHYTHM

“Rhythm underlies everything” in poetry, writes Mary Oliver. As “Living Poetry” in motion, we all are, we subscribe to, and embody certain flow and rhythms that “underlie everything” in life. Rhythms in poetry are dictated by carefully chosen words (diction), sounds of words, lines, how the lines begin and end, and how the lines are constructed whether they are long or brief (among others). Rhythms are created in poetry through words and non-words (margins, my word). In poetry that has meaningful rhythms, we are drawn and invited to enter poetry. With rhythms that are unnatural and idle, we are dissuaded to enter and engage. As such, rhythms in life cannot be associated with mere routines, as routines tend to be perfunctory and rigid, whereas rhythms are natural and organic, or I would also say, alive and breathing, and thus full of life.

Establishing new rhythms in new places takes time. When traveling, as one is outside of the known comfort zones and surroundings, it requires inner patience to build a rhythm that is invigorating and meaningful. As my wife and I are currently outside of our normal surroundings in Southern California, both of us are quite mindful of establishing new rhythms, separately as individuals and together as a couple. Working to build these rhythms as a couple is like dancing as partners, sometimes dancing alone and sometimes holding each other and moving in such ways to create our own unique dance. With clumsiness and childishness hopefully behind us, having stepped on each other’s foot for many years, I would hope we have learned how to break out and do solo breakout moves and how to move together as seasoned partners. All for building rhythm that is unforced and grace-filled. . .

Physically and schedule-wise, Grace usually is packed with zoom meetings engaging with her spiritual direction sessions mostly in the morning hours. A few times during the week, I join in to facilitate and participate in group spiritual direction sessions with various groups we have been sharing our life with. She starts at 8 am most mornings. Silence, books, candles, yoga, and eating yogurt (among other things) are important building blocks of her daily rhythm. Sitting in a café, exercising, walking, writing, etc (among others) are important ingredients to my daily rhythm.

Since our current Airbnb is a small studio, I need to vacate the room and create space for her private sessions that start at 8 am. Fortunately, within walking distance is a Starbucks attached to a relatively outdated mall that opens right at 8. Usually, it is Aisyah, a big-eyed Malay girl with a black hijab and mask that match her black outfit with Starbucks’ signature green apron, that opens the store and greets me. I order my go-to Grande Americano with extra room. As customer number one almost every day, she knows my order now but spells my name, Cheong, with a smile on the cup. I tried to correct her but decided to remain as “Cheong.” She told me the first morning if I order a donut, then I could save 1 ringgit (about 20 cents) as part of the breakfast set menu. I told her “No thanks,” but she still gave me the discount. Now, I just take the donut and get a few bites in.

With no one else around until 10 am or so and even with sparsely populated Malays (our place is in the Muslim neighborhood) in the mornings, I am mostly by “myself” with no words spoken with others. This is my office and has become part of my daily rhythm accompanied by non-verbal words. These days, I write more words than I speak. When my wife and I reunite for lunch, neither of us is verbose or chatty and there is ample room for silence. As I was planning this trip back in the US, when I saw photos of the fitness room in the building (not to mention the outdoor basketball court), I must have clicked “reserve” without thinking carefully when reserving the Airbnb. When I or we are working out in the gym mostly in the afternoons, we are silent and without words. A few times during the week, we spend time with a missionary couple who reside less than half a mile away from our place, and that also has become a part of our rhythm. Silence, exercise (and walking), books, journaling (for Grace), and writing for me are some of our bedrock rhythms as a couple while in Malaysia.

As described above, words and “non-words” play pivotal roles in creating certain rhythms in life. Non-words are like margins on how the poetry is constructed, leaving plenty of room for introspection and reflection. This rhythm in Malaysia has become more about listening than speaking. And I do not mind listening over speaking. At the same time, I am fully aware that this is a particular season, and that rhythm can and will change depending on contexts.

The few spoken and/or written words, contrastingly, carry weight and gravity, especially with the background of silence and margin. I would like to think that I am “learning the unforced rhythms of grace” that Jesus taught (Matthew 11:29, The Message). My current natural rhythms consist of more listening and non-words than speaking and words. Otherwise, it would not feel natural and thus forced. By letting the context and the Author of context dictate the creation of rhythms, with nothing “heavy or ill-fitting on me,” I find myself in a good place. The unforced rhythms of grace naturally are about “keeping company with Jesus and learning to live freely and lightly” according to verse 30 (The Message).

As has been part of the rhythm, in a few days, I will miss Aisyah serving me a cup of Americano and being all alone for at least a good couple of hours. (We will hit the road in a few days traveling throughout Southeast Asia until late March.) I would not even correct her spelling of my name as that has also been part of the rhythm. :)

ARISE AND COME WITH ME

It has been about a week since I turned 60. I wanted to let the time pass and settle before I wrote something coherent and authentic to my heart.

In the olden days in Korea, people celebrating their 60th was a big deal as it represented a significant milestone and as people generally did not live that long. Nowadays, it is no big deal. The over-the-top 60th birthday celebration bash is replaced with 70th or even 80th.

At my “ripe” age of 60, I am only now learning that my heart is tender, shy, and courageous. Dare I say that all hearts share these fundamental traits? Heart refuses to submit to the logical, practical, and protective mind always navigating and interpreting to save and elevate one’s ego. A heart can only submit and respond to authentic probing and deep dive into our longings which come from the Eternal Divine. Ego wants to elevate at all costs; the heart wants to be free from climbing and lofty elevation and be authentic even in the midst of a deep dive. Because our hearts are shy and tender, we cannot demand our hearts to show up at will but wait and wait patiently to catch a glimpse. Over time, the accumulated glimpses would require courage on one’s part to simply rise and be, as an authentic self, the God-created and given self, far from the ego-centric messages and the refined, rigid, and polished systems of the ego, including the societal and religious egos.

Even without the benefit of heart-catching glimpses, the heart does and will show its existential courage when (and especially, I may add) things fall apart in life and as one finds life against all odds. When ego tries to save one’s soul, heart is courageously and paradoxically willing to lose one’s soul to find it. Heart knows to lose to gain and find. Heart also receives and accepts what it originally meant to mean. It is as if heart knows it has found its opportune timing to show itself. When everything in the external world darkens, heart shows up as the true interior bright light, beaming and pointing where to go. Heart knows how to navigate the darkness without rejecting it. Here, the perennial invitation is to acknowledge and do a deep dive to discover what our hearts are standing up for and telling us.

I have done some deep dives in my life, but never into the kind of depth that I experienced for the last 4 years. The deep dives are dark and terrifying, surreal and yet ever so real, and where the utmost serenity exists. The most terrifying and sacred truth is that one exists alone and naked in that space. In that space, I have become better aware (and still learning) of the intricacies and complexities of egocentricity at work. Simultaneously, I have learned (and still learning) to listen to my heart which is fundamentally shy, tender, and resiliently courageous, and what my heart desires deep down (which is congruent to what God wants).

Completely unexpected, my 60th was a shocker of affirmations and confirmations of where I have been and where I am going. The last day of the Opening Residency of CQ Asia SSD was my 60th birthday. Someone whom I had not met before had a word of knowledge for me. There are a lot of details that screamed confirmation, one after another. The words were intimate and grand, personal and global, and exhilarating and scary. She shed tears as she shared (as well as rubbing her arms telling me she had goosebumps) and I shed tears while listening. My primary emotions had to do with awe and wonder, being known and loved by God who knows me from my early childhood (as she saw a vision of me when I was a child).

One particular vision she shared with me was the sound of bamboo trees rubbing against each other. Bamboo trees represented people who “bend” to the will of God around the world. She recalled that as they rustle with each other when the wind caresses through the bamboo forest, it creates multiple layered sounds that are soothing, harmonious, and beautiful. She saw me as one of the bamboo trees rubbing with other bamboo trees in the forest.

I have a vision of seeing alternative communities with alternative consciousness. Might I add communities who are willing to bend to the will of God without “empire-building and maintaining” urges and schemes? You can blame Walter Brueggemann for this vision as my heart leapt and embraced the “prophetic” and joyous calling when I read his book, The Prophetic Imagination, during my sabbatical in 2020.

Mentoring, training, and companioning young people and leaders of “multi-colored faces” was the main thrust of the vision the prophetic lady saw. And that contemplation and hospitality were to be significant building blocks of “seeing alternative communities” (my language added) with my wife right alongside me. What my wife and I heard landed as a huge confirmation from God that matches our current life’s trajectory and hearts’ deep desires.

To be given such a life-giving and affirming word on my 60th was beyond my wildest imagination and my only response to God was “Yes, yes, and yes. May Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” The other day, my wife was listening to streaming Spotify, and Michael Card’s classic, Arise My Love (based on the Song of Solomon), came on. As she listened, she knew that it was a message from God to us. The song ends with these lines:

Arise, my love, my lovely one come.
The winter is past, and the rains are gone.
The flowers appear, it’s the season of song,
My beautiful one, arise and come with me.
I am my love’s, my beloved is mine.
Arise and come with me.

“MR. BEAN” IN ACTION

As if to say, “Welcome to Malaysia,” we got caught in torrential rain with the full display of thunder and lightning under a canopy near the mall where we went for a first grocery run. We had just shopped and had three bags of food, helpless.

To start our long-term (2 months) stay in KL, my friend in KL had graciously loaned us his brand-new black Toyota Hilux, extended double cab (which is equivalent to Tacoma in the US) which was one of the cars I was eyeing to get for many years in the US. With one minor problem. Drivers are on the right side of the car. I have driven in Indonesia and the UK, so I was somewhat used to the idea, but it had been a while.

Our first task was to shop for food, mostly for breakfast items including tropical fruits (papayas, mangos, etc) and vegetables, and my wife’s favorite, sweet potatoes. Our missionary friend’s wife told us the day before Malaysia has some delicious sweet potatoes and my wife was eager to try them. We knew that Jaya Grocer was the one as it features food we are used to, like oat milk, sugar-free plain yogurt, oatmeal, etc. Jaya also has all kinds of Korean food which impressed us. Promptly, we input Jaya Grocer into our GPS (we were also told to use WAZE app for our driving) to our nearest location. The first Jaya Grocer the WAZE took us was a small strip mall neighborhood market where parking was a big problem. We were hoping to go to Jaya which is attached to a mall as we needed a few other household items for our survival. After scratching the first one, the second Jaya was also a dud. By this time, we have been driving for close to an hour, passing through half a dozen expressway tolls and getting used to KL’s traffic and highway system. The third time was the charm. Where WAZE led us was a vast outdoor parking lot, packed with cars in such ways I could not believe this would be normal. (For those back in the US, just think of the Black Friday parking scene.) Finally, I found my victim (I mean, a young family) and stalked them until they got in the car and pulled out of the space. I parked in their spot, but even then, it was a good walk to the market and the mall.

After a successful grocery run, we started walking back to our car. That was when the sky darkened and opened, and rain greeted us like an open faucet engulfing everything in sight. Without an umbrella, as the day had been partly cloudy all day until then, we became pitiful casualties. Even then, we did not want to be seen as outsiders, so we chose not to run as if to tell the world we were used to the passing thunderstorm. We walked as far as we could being drenched but found a dry place under a canopy and got stuck under a now heavier downpour. With one minor obstacle yet to overcome. . .

I still had to pay for parking before I headed out. I located the pay machine right outside another mall entrance and somehow made my way there with my wife waiting some 100 ft away. The parking fee was 5 ringgits (a little over a dollar) and they only accept cash. I only had 50-ringgit bills with me as I did not have time to break the large bills. Since I was eager to get out of the wet mess and get into the car, I slotted in a 50-ringgit bill not knowing it would return the change, but the machine started spitting bills out, ONE AT A TIME with about 5 seconds in between! The first two bills were 10-ringgit bills and then it ran out of both 10 and 5 ringgits. So, it started sending one ringgit bill at a time with 5 seconds pause after each. And if I am not bending to catch the bills, they fly every which way as if I am playing cash grabbing game inside some tube. As bending becomes more strenuous as I get older, I had to bend and twist my body unnaturally for what felt like an eternity to catch all 25 one-ringgit bills. I knew I had to pose a very awkward and peculiar stance, but I decided that was more dignified than chasing after winged bills. Later, my wife told me what she saw was so comical that she thought she was watching one of the Mr. Bean episodes. I laughed at myself, picturing what that scene must have looked like. . .

With my one pocket all bloated thanks to 1-ringgit bills, I found what looked like a security guard driving around with a golf cart draped with plastic covers on all sides and asked if he can take us to our car. I wasn’t sure if he understood, but I got in anyway, picked up my wife along the way, and finally made it back to our car after numerous finger-pointings, right and left, to our car. That was a hilarious and humbling outing. I only wished that I had a camera following us, capturing the whole thing. So I can watch it on down-and-out rainy days. . .

“OPENING RESIDENCY”

I was wrong.

I expected I would have ample free time to subject myself to reading, reflection, and writing while my wife embodying a calming but beaming presence would be immersed in CenterQuest (CQ) Asia School of Spiritual Direction (CQ Asia-SSD) inaugural cohort’s Opening Residency. After a day, I am glad my initial expectation was off kilter.

The setting is a beautiful (did I say beautiful) Mirador Jesuit Villa Retreat House, looking down the entire impressive mountain city of Baguio. At one point during our first afternoon, we were looking down at the white cumulous cloud. During sunset, it seemed that even the crimson sun stood below us as if bowed to retire. Reminiscent of the So. Cal weather we left behind, Baguio boasts cooler and relatively dry weather all year round (70s high and 50s low) and thus is known for resorts, especially during summer, and filled with university and younger students. The city is young and clean in addition to being a safer city. One of our traveling companions observed right away that people here seem to be happier and more relaxed than the already laid-back Filipinos.

Upon our arrival, we were promptly led to our room on the top second floor and I immediately gasped at the most perfect room (see below) I could have imagined spending the next several days. I fell in love with the room as it features 8 wide contiguous windows, facing the east and south. The bright happy sun greets me every morning and warms up the room to start the day. Essentially, we get a 180-degree view of the valley below as well as the labyrinth on the retreat ground right below us. The corner room is adorned with simple, clean, and yet tasteful and thoughtful furniture with two desks overlooking the valley and the labyrinth, a love sofa, and two twin beds side by side. I learned later through my wife, CQ Asia had given us the best room in the entire retreat house. I uttered my thankfulness to God and channeled my heart to receive the room as God’s opening gift to us in Asia. With or without the room that was assigned to us, my soul knew right away that we are at the right place at the right time, assuring me of God’s faithful guidance. My soul cannot think of anything that is more comforting and assuring than the sense of being at the right place at the right time—the Kairos moment. Kairos happens when God’s divine time and human’s earthly time meet in perfect synchronicity. Often Kairos can be better understood in retrospect, but rarely as it happens. This was one of those rare moments.  

There are 34 CQ Asia-SSD participants with mentors, instructors, and other administrative staff to 67 total. I was introduced as Grace’s husband, Chong, which I proudly and immensely enjoyed. When I come across puzzled looks on some people’s faces looking at me, I tell them I am Grace’s husband. The puzzled looks are quickly replaced with warm acknowledgment. I met people my wife had shared with me and I finally put faces to names. Among them was Wil Hernandez, founder, and director of CQ Asia. He thanked me for coming and I thanked him for letting me come. As a mature Enneagram 1, no detail escapes his attention, being perfect but has learned to hold it lightly. As such, he thoughtfully highlighted certain sections in the schedule where I could attend. Basically, it includes all the morning sessions which revolve around Henri Nouwen’s teachings centered around what Wil calls, “Communion Trilogy: solitude, identity, and presence” which I have found deep resonance with. Four daily prayer services were also encouraged including the evening programs. My vision of doing my own retreat quickly went out the door and I pivoted and was extremely glad that I could attend the sessions. Clearly, God had a different agenda than what I anticipated.

Then there are the meal hours. As one who has attended too many conferences to name and count, I know experientially the meal hours often are the most meaningful times in the entire program. Opening Residency is no exception. The participants are roughly divided into half Catholic, comprised of lay, nuns including superior general, fathers, and a Friar, and half Protestants from various streams and traditions which was intentional on CQ Asia’s part. As an ecumenical community, its common language is contemplation, solitude, true self, companioning, etc to name just a few. Participants mostly are from Southeast Asian nations including one Chinese and two Koreans. (The story of how the Chinese lady came to CQ Asia’s Opening Residency is a miraculous testimony in itself.) During the opening night’s introduction and expectation sharing times, some of the phrases I heard were: “I want to fall in love with God in me and God in others.” “I’m learning to let God love me.” “I want to be seen by God and I want to see God.” “I am chosen by God, and I choose God.” “My heart and God’s heart are one.” “I want to capture the carpe diem of my heart.” “I want to discover my God.” Moved by the genuineness of sharing, my heart knows this is my tribe, further cementing Grace’s involvement with CQ Asia and that we are moving in the same direction.

All are involved in some sort of activism and action-driven “ministries.” I don’t think there is anybody in this group who would be considered a “hermit” as all have distinctive ministry outlets and services. I was not prepared to meet anybody from the Protestant missions world. I should not have been surprised but I met several missionaries from evangelical mission organizations and held deep and honest conversations. During the first evening, one Filipino worker came up to me and told me he had met me at Asia Society for Frontier Mission meetings in the past. Sure enough, I recognized him right away. He had been serving among the Muslims in southern Thailand for many years and moved back to the Philippines to do the work of mobilization. His story as well as other workers’ stories are similar in that they are convinced about the critical importance of formation and the current missions is woefully lacking in depth and breadth of spiritual formation. They have been deeply concerned enough that they had to risk and forge their own path and now finding themselves trying to help others along the way. In my heart, I found myself saluting and encouraging them.

Meet Inigo, his pseudonym. He stood out because he is a tall younger Portuguese among the shorter majority Asians. He is in touch with his soul and knows how to articulate exceptionally well. Even his English accent was enthralling music to my ears. Having pursued more than 10 years of “cross-cultural work” in Asia including China with the Order of Society of Jesus (Jesuit) and close to being a priest, he found himself at a crossroads a few years ago, he shared with me. He saw a vision (my choice of word) of the Trinity members standing at a door, saying to each other, “You first, you first, and you first” out of reverence for one another to enter. Then he saw himself right in front of the door and, as a good Jesuit, asked God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, “What do you want me to do? What can I do for you?” Their response in unison? “Inigo, what do you want to do?” “What can we do for you?” After the initial befuddlement settled, he received the response as a deeper way to discover himself which led to searching his heart’s deepest desires. He further realized that God does not have one correct way for us to follow (and to see if we get it right) but many “open doors.” “God wants us to choose based on our desire and freedom. God loves us freely and wants us to follow God with freedom,” he followed. “Love requires freedom,” after a brief silence adding to the weightiness of the statement. As a result, Inigo decided to go back to his country (Portugal) and engage in “smaller” and seemingly less significant work among Europe’s spiritual desolates. He chose CQ Asia because he is married to a Filipino wife (not to mention his years in Asia) and God gifted him and his wife a two-year-old daughter. He and his family now reside in a small, picturesque town called Évora, east of Lisbon known for wheatfield, olive, and cork trees in addition to some of the best preserved Roman, Gothic, and Baroque architecture. He told me with a big smile I and my wife now have a friend to visit in Portugal. I told him, “Don’t be surprised to see us!” I would love to break bread, taste olives, drink wine, and have fellowship.

SECOND FIDDLE

It is noisy outside, fleetingly drowned by Starbucks’ choice of music in Makati in Metro Manila. The street noise of cars and motorcycles serves as dull bass to the music inside. I love watching the busyness and frenetic of life passing by me, full of life and vigor. As an extrovert, I get energized by the surrounding energy. The city features unparalleled smog and mugginess though it has been the bearable kind so far. I remember Manila being much hotter and more humid from previous visits. 1986 was the year I came to Manila where I bounced around in outskirt villages during my short-term missions trip. The ubiquitous fumes-vomiting Jeepneys, unique to the Philippines street scene showcasing various deco and colors, some drab and some elaborate, seem exactly what I remembered from back then. My lungs were not used to the smog and during our outing on our first day, my irritated throat rang an alarm bell and gave me a sore throat as the air was subpar.

The first morning in Manila, as is the custom for me, I hit the road to explore and walk about 3 miles. The exploration and walking satiate my two needs: curiosity and exercise, a combination that has been working well in new environments. I started walking a little after 6 am and people were already out and about. What I could guess as a lower-middle-class neighborhood was my choice of route as I wanted to check out the bus station in the adjacent town. To my surprise, there was a fully garbed marching band walking through a small neighborhood street. At 6:15 in the morning! On my loop back to our Airbnb, I found out by asking one of the spectators that the parade was celebrating the Feast Day of Patron San Ildefonso. Astounded by the time of the parade and the size of the crowd all before 7 am, I arrived back in the Airbnb having soaked in much of Manila all before 8 am.

This morning, my wife and I, along with two Korean brothers from Korea and Malaysia, with who we have been closely associated and thus recruited for this school, took a 5 hour bus from Manila to Baguio where we will spend the coming week of Opening Residency of CenterQuest Asia. CenterQuest founder and director, Will Hernandez, long dreamt of starting a school of spiritual direction in Asia. His dream is finally coming to fruition and my wife, a graduate of Cohort 3, will participate as a mentor and an instructor in the next 15 months. My wife is dialed in as she considers this role as her “dream job.”

Probably for the first time in our married life, I am happy and content to play second fiddle to my wife as I am mainly here to support and encourage her involvement. As she has been generously and sacrificially supporting “my” ministry for more than 30 years, it is with great joy I am reciprocating my appreciation and excitement for her this time. Joy and hope fill my heart as I watch her getting excited and nervous at the same time. I know what that feels like. . .

One of the brothers said to me, “this is the first time I have seen you not having any role.” I told him he was probably right and agreed with him as I did not remember the last time. It feels so right to not have any role and just be here as a cheerleader and encourager, not only for my wife but for the brothers as well. I have known these brothers for well over 12 years. Both came to Pasadena in 2010 for a 6-month long training where most of their deconstruction of faith and Christianity took place. Ever since then, we have been journeying together as fellow sojourners of faith.

During the Opening Residency at a Jesuit retreat house, I am hoping to engage in my own retreat of reflection, reading, and writing. I am also sure that exploration and walking will call my name every day during the week.

MOM AND MALIBU

Today will be the last time I will visit Malibu Fresh Seafood Market and Patio Café for at least 6 months. After unseasonably wet December and now January which is too much for my liking (I confess I am a spoiled fair-weather Southern California boy at heart), I was to expect a rain pause at least until the afternoon. I planned to see my mom before we head out to Asia this Tuesday. She lives with my sister in the San Fernando Valley, which is relatively a short drive to the ocean. The routine which happens almost every other weekend is to take my mom for a drive to Malibu. She loves driving since it reminds her of her golden camping and traveling years.

Las Virgenes Drive, which leads through the Malibu Canyon off the 101 Freeway driving north, is my choice of the scenic road to get to the ocean. After much rain in the last week or so, everything is covered in green. The road starts with the quintessential Southern California bare rolling hills covered with sparkling green grass and with occasional oak trees dotting the hills, which reminds me of William Wallace’s Scotland Highlands. After each lazy turn, I feel like I ought to spot some sheep or the long-haired Highland cattle but see none. I read it was one of the hills Kobe Bryant supposedly died in a helicopter crash a few years ago. My mind wanders off to his legacy and the impact of creating a bond between my son, Michael, and me over following the Lakers and Kobe. 

Closer to the ocean, the rolling hills disappear into the rearview mirror and turn into a curvy canyon road with formidable Santa Monica Mountains flanking both sides of the road. I wished I still had my Mazda 6 Sport Wagon equipped with Pro Lowering Springs which makes cornering like a breeze and essentially hugs and glides through the windy road. Once I pass through the canyon, I am met with a wide open ocean awaiting before me with Pepperdine University to my right. The café rests on the Pacific Coast Highway 1 about a mile north of the university. 

As the outdoor café sits on PCH 1, we get a full view of the Malibu coast in front of us. While I go for their signature Seafood Combo and Fries to get my fried food fixing, my mom loves Clam Chowder soup which my dad loved. She has never told me, but I wondered if her love for clam chowder soup is her way of remembering my dad. Afraid of my mom getting all emotional, I avoid the question and shift my mind to something else as her pain of losing her husband several years ago still lingers on. She has been losing her short-term memory significantly, but her long-term memory is still sharp. With her short-term memory compromised, our conversation remains simple and on repetition. Knowing her questions are genuine, I don’t mind the repeat and depth of our conversations. One constancy is that she thanks me repeatedly for the time spent. 

I am like my mom. She is adventurous and spontaneous. Though dissipated significantly due to her age and stamina, she is a busybody with a massive desire to feed whoever is around her. As she has lived through one of the tumultuous times of Korean history and life as an immigrant, her love language has been cooking and feeding her loved ones, often even damaging her own health to “care for others.” We benefited much from her desire and love, but for years it has also caused friction and triggered boundary issues for me to live my life. She may very well have received my need to create “healthy” boundaries as a rejection of her love. . . It helps now that she can no longer cook as she used to not to mention the distance between our places. The passing of time has become a remedy.

Driving back the same route, sure enough, my mom thanked me for the time spent. I told her, “Of course, I’d love to.” While our relationship has not been perfect which is to say, perfectly human, complex, and messy, I utter thankfulness to God in silence for this woman who bore me and raised me. After I came home, I placed leftover Seafood Combo and Fries in a takeout box on a dining table. Upon seeing the box, my other son Brad said to me while smiling, “You’ve been with Halmuni (Grandma).” 

REMY

I have been in love, the bromance kind, with a dog. 

Named after the main character in the Pixar movie, Ratatouille, Remy is a small chihuahua sent from heaven, as our family would like to believe. Remy dons short and thick brown hair featuring a tiny bald spot on his forehead. His signature look though is his regal and proud ears that stand tall and oversized compared to the rest of his body. Remy is also a dog with hundred facial expressions with his lower lip reminiscent of human lips. But his eyes tell us so much of what he feels and what he thinks.

Remy still maintains pale pink paws reminding us all that he is a poor walker. But nobody blames him because he lives in Minnesota with my daughter, Elizabeth. It is a good thing he is here in Southern California now. Though it’s been raining and cold, this is paradise compared to Minnesota’s blizzardy winter where winter wonderland turns very quickly into frozen tundra. Chihuahuas are not meant to be in Minnesota, I suppose, but along the idyllic warm coast of the Mexican Riviera. No wonder Remy loves the beach. 

We remember the day Remy first came to us like yesterday. He was skittish and extremely cautious and timid. Elizabeth shared with us how she got hold of Remy. Elizabeth rescued Remy from a dog foster home. It turned out that from an earlier photo before ending up at the foster home, Remy at one point had lost all his hair and was a scared and neglected dog. Elizabeth does not know the full history, but apparently, Remy overcame his adversities and became one of the most charming dogs in the foster home. Elizabeth quickly spotted him and brought him home. 

Even then when given food for the first few weeks, poor Remy gulped his food, not chewing, lest someone take his food away. Remy was also so funny looking that we all chuckled at him. Speaking for myself, I did not know what the attraction was initially. That question disappeared as quickly as it came to me when Remy came to me gingerly when I was sitting down on the sofa. He wanted to sit on my lap. As I let him, he was happily content and did not move until I moved. He even let me caress his paws while on my lap. He promptly melted my heart then and I fell in love with Remy. When Remy leaves California, my heart aches. When Remy arrives back in California, my heart leaps with joy. 

Remy is a seasoned traveler having flown close to 10 times now as Elizabeth and he have gone back and forth between Minnesota and California for the last several years. Remy made a dashing appearance as a proud and special guest during Hannah and Jeremiah’s wedding last summer. Remy now eats in a relaxed mode without having to worry about when the next meal may come. Remy has become famous as he has more followers on his Instagram than I do. 

We all believe that Remy is an angel disguised as a chihuahua, a special gift from God to our family. The truth of the matter is Remy came to me during the most tumultuous time of my life, after stepping down from leadership and having entered my yearlong sabbatical, not knowing where God would call me next. Remy’s cuddly presence, simply wanting to be with me, provided soothing healing for my soul.

Remy has also been my teacher, teaching me to embrace the sacred presence of now. Small children, animals, and nature have something in common. They are all utterly present to the present moment. They accept now as now and do not betray the present moment. The other day, I was watching Remy across the sofa from where I was sitting. Remy was fixated on a tiny gnat, not even a fly, as his eyes followed the swirling movement of the gnat, amused and curious while tilting his head from side to side. That brought me a smile and a lesson. 

Remy exhibits and embodies the ministry of presence. Remy does not talk but his presence brings encouragement and healing to those who are near him. I have been reminded of the importance and graceful power of the ministry of presence as I have attended numerous funeral services in recent months.

This angel comes packaged in oversized ears and a tiny dense body while delivering a big-sized lesson of being present in the present moment by simply being a lap dog. I need this angel around me for a long time as I have much to learn. 

FLUENT

This entry reads more like an update than other entries. As you will see, as I travel around the world, I am eager to continue to write and capture what God is showing me and highlighting to me. I invite you to continue to join in the journey this year. 

I feel it in my bones. I feel it in the air. 

After seasons of death, deconstruction, and a newfound desire, a season of definitive launching is upon us. I cannot and will not define what “launching” looks like this new season. That is beyond my territory and not even important. The river flows with all surprises and adventures. For now, I am merely happy to be in the river. . . 

We have our biggest and longest trip in front of us to start the Year of the Rabbit, my 60th year. Just to bore you with big markers and brief descriptions of each leg: 

Jan 17 thru Jan 31: The Philippines. Center Quest Asia School of Spiritual Direction is launching its inaugural cohort. Grace has a significant role in serving as a mentor as well as an instructor of two modules. CQ Asia starts its opening residency during the last week of January.

Jan 31 thru March 31: Malaysia and SE Asia. We will be in Kuala Lumpur as our base and plan to travel in and out of SE Asia, visiting other families and ministries. There is a family in KL that we have been tracking very closely for many years. They will be our hosts while Grace and I will “work” as digital nomads performing several services including Grace’s role in CQ Asia SSD.

March 31 thru June 29: Korea. I was told by my publisher that my translated book in Korean would be out in April. The title has not been decided but it has much to do with “pilgrim spirituality.“ That would be the main reason for our swing to Korea this time along with other responsibilities: conferences, ministry of hospitality, coaching, speaking, etc. Additionally, I am hoping to be involved with events related to my book release: book concerts, the launching of book clubs, etc. I am eager to meet with people on the ground who would be attracted to my book’s content.

Easily, the most memorable event during the holidays was our family gathering in San Diego. All our adult children including Elizabeth who flew in from Minnesota, Jeremiah (Hannah’s husband), Gloria (Michael’s fiancée), Mina (Brad’s girlfriend), and my favorite nieces, Lauren and Kristian as well as Lauren’s boyfriend, Daniel, were all together for a couple of days. Really too short but so sweet and heartwarming. They surprised me with an early 60th birthday bash. We shared stories, played games, snapped some annual family photos (thanks to Jeremiah), and feasted on Oscar’s seafood tacos, Taco Especial, and Octopus Taco. My daughters and my wife collected heartfelt and deeply moving words of encouragement for my 60th and put together both a 30-minute video and some 14 pages of printed texts. My heart was full, and I could not digest all the kind and grace-filled words heaped on me and I will most definitely need to go back to relisten and reread to fully appreciate what people have so magnanimously shared. Buoyed by the gathering and the words of encouragement, I will continue to be me and will let the river take me where it wills. 

From left to right: Elizabeth (Remy), Kristian, Lauren, Gloria, Michael, Grace, me, Brad, Mina, Hannah, and Jeremiah

LOVE SONG OF A BUTTERFLY

나비의 연가

이해인

가르쳐 주시지 않아도
처음부터 알았습니다
나는 당신을 향해 날으는
한 마리 순한 나비인 것을

가볍게 춤추는 나에게도
슬픔의 노란 가루가
남몰래 묻어 있음을 알았습니다

눈멀 듯 부신 햇살에
차라리 날개를 접고 싶은
황홀한 은총으로 살아온 나날

빛나는 하늘이
훨훨 날으는
나의 것임을 알았습니다

행복은 가난한 마음임을 가르치는
풀잎들의 합창

수없는 들꽃에게 웃음 가르치며
나는 조용히 타버릴
당신의 나비입니다

부디 꿈꾸며 살게 해 주십시오
버려진 꽃들을 잊지 않게 하십시오

들릴 듯 말 듯한 나의 숨결은
당신께 바쳐지는
무언의 기도

당신을 향한
맨 처음의 사랑
不忘의 나비입니다, 나는

Love Song of a Butterfly
(translated by Jesse Lee, my good friend, with minor adaptations from me)

Hae-In Lee

Even if you don't teach me,
I knew it from the beginning
that I'm a gentle butterfly
flying towards you.

Even as I dance lightly,
I found out that yellow powder of sorrow
was on me.

In the blinding sunlight,
the days I have lived with the enchanting grace
of even wanting to fold my wings,

I knew that
the shining sky was mine,
flying freely.

Blades of grass sing in the chorus teach
happiness is poor in heart.

While teaching countless wildflowers to laugh,
I am your butterfly that will quietly burn.

Please let me live with a dream,
and don't let me forget the abandoned flowers.

My barely audible breath
is a silent prayer
dedicated to you

The first love towards you,
an unforgettable butterfly,
I am.

---

Lee Hae-in, a beloved Catholic nun, is a prolific poet and essayist in Korea. As I write before Christmas this year, I can’t help but ponder the meaning of Christmas and why and how Jesus came and walked among us. The first few times I read the poem, I equated myself to the butterfly. Today, in my reflection, I imagined Jesus as the butterfly. And I was once the abandoned wildflower Jesus came to restore laughter and meaning to my existence.

Jesus’ last barely audible breath on the cross was a silent prayer for all creation. While on earth, Jesus embodied the sweet sorrow, lived his life in the blinding sunlight and under the enchanting grace, and learned and taught to fly in freedom. He spoke about the poor in heart would belong in the kingdom of heaven. He taught countless wildflowers to laugh and I am one of them.

I in turn am called to fly in freedom and grace, teach other wildflowers to laugh, and not forget the abandoned and overlooked flowers within my reach. All the while being reminded of the first love and I as the unforgettable and unforgotten one. . .

YOU WAKE THE DEAD TO LIFE

By Rumi (Translated by Haleh Liza Gafori)

You wake the dead to life,
you fountain of grace,
you fire in thickets of tangled thought.

Today you arrived beaming with laughter—
that swinging key that unlocks prison doors.

You are hope’s beating heart.
You are a doorway to the sun.
You are the one I seek and the one who seeks me.
Beginning and end.

You greet need with generous hands.
You flood us with spirit,

rising from the heart,
lifting thought.

Rare one, you reveal the pleasure
of wisdom and practice.

Beyond these, what is there
but excuses and deceit?

We lust after the afterlife.
We stew over trinkets.
We stage battles between black and white.
Our ears are plugged with twisted delusions.

You carry the cure.

Silence!
I’m in a hurry. Leave the paper. Break the pen.
The cupbearer is here, jug in hand.

Meet us in the land of insight,
camped under ecstasy’s flag.”

---

Being an avid listener of Poetry Unbound, with Pádraig Ó Tuama as the unparalleled host, I gifted myself the book, 50 Poems to Open Your World. I have not opened the book as I am planning to digest the book during my travels next year.

A couple of weeks ago, the above poem by Rumi was read and interpreted by Ó Tuama, an Irish poet. Rumi is still considered one of the most beloved poets, more than 700 years after his death. As a mystic, his voice still reverberates widely and his inspiration finds common ground with other mystics around the world. Since his poems are time and culture-bound, they are not easy to comprehend. I have appreciated and resonated with a handful of his poems over the years.

This poem first of all is a poem of friendship, as I learned that “you” in the above poem is Shams, one of Rumi’s closest friends. “You” also can and do mean God or Allah, I am sure, in Rumi’s mind.

Today, I take time to reflect on friendship, friendship with fellow pilgrims, and with God. I will share a couple of reflections. “The key that unlocks prison doors” is the very key of true friendship. True friendship does not control or take captive each other’s soul but allows our souls to be free. Freedom of our souls exists for one grand purpose—love. Love that is not born out of freedom is not true love. Freedom from “whatever holds us captive” clears distractions and obstacles, but freedom to love, which to me is a deeper freedom, bestows existential meaning and value. The very gift of friendship gifts each other the freedom to love.

I love the crescendo of “You flood us with spirit, rising from the heart, lifting thought.” Our spirit gets flooded, and our hearts rise as a result, impacting how we think, how we see, and how we behave. Our thought (chatterbox, really) or ego does not run our life anymore. It’s the act of generosity from the friendship that corrects and restores how we live our lives, from spirit to heart to thought, not the other way around. Thank you, friends! Thank you, God!

MY COURAGEOUS LIFE

MY COURAGEOUS LIFE
has gone ahead
and is looking back,
calling me on.

My courageous life
has seen everything
I have been
and everything
I have not
and has
forgiven me,
day after day.

My courageous life
still wants
my company:
wants me to
understand
my life as witness
and thus
bequeath me
the way ahead.

My courageous life
has the patience
to keep teaching me,
how to invent
my own
disappearance,
and how
once gone,
to reappear again.

My courageous life
wants to stop
being ahead of me
so that it can lie
down and rest
deep inside the body
it has been
calling on.

My courageous life
wants to be
my foundation,
showing me
day after day
even against my will

how to undo myself,
how to surpass myself,
how to laugh as I go
in the face
of danger,
how to invite
the right kind
of perilous
love,

how to find
a way
to die
of generosity.

…

My Courageous Life
A new adaption of ‘Second Life’
in Pilgrim
Poems by David Whyte

---

I find Whyte’s poem compelling enough in my life now to want to wander through each stanza and linger long.

Last night, I zoomed with 5 of my closest friends from my early Christian years back in college. Seven of us (we were missing one last night) were clamorous, unrefined (though some may argue that they were more refined than the others), and attracted to any kind of fun and mischief like moths drawn to a flame. There was even a nickname designated to us aptly called “animals.” I could write for days to tell all the stories. . . We felt like the world was our playground and everyone else was our supporting cast. But above all, our lives were transformed by Jesus, and we all loved Jesus. Over the years, not that full-time service deserves special praise or recognition, 6 of us have served God either as pastors or missionaries while others supported and encouraged others. Two brothers up in Pacific Northwest are serving as pastors though one is in transition. One is in Australia serving as a pastor. The father of one brother just passed away a couple of weeks ago; his father had just celebrated his 100th birthday a few months ago. And most of us have already turned 60 with me and one other to turn 60 in a few months.

Our current life’s context dictated much of our sharing and reflections last night. We have a fuller and wider view of our lives, and all possess the kind of quality to detach ourselves from our first half of life’s accomplishments as well as to own hard lessons learned.

This is the context in which I come to this poem this morning. The second to the last stanza grabbed me today. My true self (or what Whyte calls “my courageous life”—that’s how I am interpreting the poem today) looks to undo or at least suppress my ego while thanking my ego for my survival during much of the first half of my life. My true self desires to go beyond the glass ceiling of my ego’s misguided protection and security. I want to at least smile if not laugh out loud in the face of danger and risk. As I shared last week, I know what awaits me is both “harsh and exciting.” I want to count all the blessings and enjoy the grand table spread before my “enemies” while laughing in the face of peril.

We are all at a point where we have to risk everything and do what makes our heart bloom and blossom. With honesty, a wider and longer view of life, and our ego in check (mostly), we realize that we must pursue our individual heart’s calling. Without anyone saying it out loud, we all knew viscerally that was the invitation. It seems to me this morning that was our way of “inviting the right kind of perilous love.” Not pursuing perilous love is even riskier at our age. Just perhaps that is a “way to die of generosity” when the time comes.

WILD GEESE

As it has become an annual tradition, I would like to share a few of my favorite poems with you during the month of December. Every week, I will share a poem with my brief reflection below. I invite you to do the same from where and how you are today.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

---

Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese is a classic. For me, today, the word “meanwhile” is being highlighted. Meanwhile captures something serendipitous, seemingly irrelevant, and something that can easily be ignored. When meanwhile becomes permanent enough to capture our imagination, we are at the doorway of God’s message. Meanwhile also allows us to take a deep breath and pause to notice what’s around or above us and lift up our eyes from our “repentance” and “despair.” Toward the end of the poem, Oliver lingers on the last “meanwhile” image of wild geese and imbues the very calling of our lives.

Like Oliver, I find that the pursuit of our calling can be both harsh and exciting. What it does do is “announce our place in the family of things” over and over again. I love the expansive nature and intimate familial language of our calling “in the family of things,” reminding us of the interconnectivity and interdependence in all things as God the author and perfector in all and of all. Anticipating and celebrating Advent this season at one level is about joining the wide and perennial family and tradition, reminding us of our place in the family and the history of things.

Lastly, Thomas Merton’s reflection is apt here.

"A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying [God]. It “consents,” so to speak, to [God's] creative love. It is expressing an idea which is in God and which is not distinct from the essence of God, and therefore a tree imitates God by being a tree."

I would like to surmise that our invitation is twofold: one is to be a “tree” or a “wild goose,” giving glory to God and consenting to God’s creative love. At the same time, we are not the end as we are called to merely hold our place in the cosmic family of things. I wonder if that is why it is harsh and exciting or exciting and harsh.

WHY I WRITE

While there were certainly other entries that were personal, this week’s entry is just as personal, and I feel vulnerable. I debated whether to share this entry. In the end, it is my way of being accountable to myself and to you as readers and active sojourners in my life. 

Just as a heads up, Grace and I will be embarking on our longest trip overseas starting next January 20 through June 30 out in Asia. I will share more in detail at the beginning of the year (January 3 post) what the trip is about. In the meantime, as this week’s entry suggests, I look forward to immersing myself in writing in new environments and as life evolves. 

For a while now, I have been asking myself why I write or more precisely why I want to write. I allowed the question to percolate and observed in me what rose to the top. Today, I decided to capture some of my reasons. . . 

I write to better audience myself, what is going on internally in relation to the external worlds I happen to be navigating. I know I see, feel, think, ask, and imagine. I want to explore my interior depth by giving words and expressing myself through writing. It is a medium that I had not taken advantage of until lately. Much of the time I know I am the one writing, but there are a few moments when the act of writing takes over my act of writing. It feels like a divine-friendly takeover, working through my mind and imagination. It feels mysteriously addictive. 

I write sometimes out of anger and dissatisfaction. I see things most of the time not as they are but as they should be according to the grand narrative of God’s kingdom articulated and lived out by Jesus. I see the chasm between what should be and what is, thus being a source of my great dis-ease. Certainly not to say that what I see or want to see is in line with the living vision of God’s kingdom, but it has become crucial that I try. I see and think in “systems” in big broad strokes. The big picture is important because it tells me where I am and where I need to go.

I write to remember. It is laborious work for me to write details, to “caress the divine details” according to Vladimir Nabokov. It has been an invitation for me to explore deeper and finer details and colors this season. It is a learned lesson for me to meet God in fine and divine details, that is my life, my life always in context. God is not only big and magnificent but also intimate and generous. God is not only a generous Father but also a caring Mother. Unless I learn to capture the details, I know the details will elude me over time and thus be forgotten. I want to cherish how God came to me and count on every detail of God’s intimate motherly caring. 

I write to communicate. I know I possess a perspective and a voice of freedom and God’s generous love. I want to be a voice of God’s radical inclusivity and expansive love; everything else pales in comparison. I love the “soft opening but radical launch” of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee that is captured in Luke 4: 16-30, upsetting the religious status quo. It seems that love that is not perfectly free is not love at all. I write to invite others to lift up their eyes and see the blue sky beyond the clouds and even the intermediate darkened sky. 

I write to let the world know I exist and my voice matter. My life is now well entrenched in the second half of the life stage. I know what I want to do. More precisely, I know what I do not want to do in life. I am less attached and far less attracted to institutions and systems. Hopefully as a result I am less entitled. While my ego is still very much alive, I am at least aware of how my ego functions most of the time thus hopefully being able to limit the ego’s selfish reach. 

I write to know God as a knowable God, which can only be subjectively experienced. God comes to me disguised as life, as Paula D’Arcy says. I also know I see and know God dimly—there is a God I cannot ever know. God is unknowable and thus remains a great elusive mystery. I want to explore the depth of this profound mystery and wonder through the human finite act of writing, hoping to catch a glimpse and insight into an unknowable God who can be knowable. 

Finally, I write because I want to write. This is new for me. What I had experienced while staying at Yangpyeong both in the spring and the fall revealed something in me that I had not known before. The writing was not only fun and something that I looked forward to almost every day as part of my pleasure and discipline, but it also changed how I began to “see” things. When we strip religious clothing down from the kind of “unadorned” spirituality Jesus talked about, I believe spirituality is essentially about seeing and hearing—the kind of seeing and hearing that is not based on ego building and defending but seeing and hearing based on what is and what should be according to the standard of the kingdom Jesus taught. In short, writing has become a sacred act of grounding myself in this world but also offering a gift to the world as I continue to explore what I consider to be the early stage of my vocational calling. 

OVERLAPPING CHAPTERS

Yesterday (November 15th) marked an end of a chapter. I knew it was coming. Our neighbors to the east of us, with whom we have been neighbors for over 20 years, moved out. About a month ago while we were still in Korea, our neighbors to the west of us, who were there when we moved in 1998, moved out. Both are settling down in the lower San Gabriel Valley area. Both neighbors have been and still are part of the organization/community we’ve been part of for decades. While we weren’t extremely chummy chummy neighbors, we could count on them being good dependable neighbors. Hopefully, we’ve been good enough neighbors to them as well. Given all this, today feels eerily bare and strange. I know viscerally that this signifies a beginning of a new chapter in our life.

As of July of this year, our decades-long (since 1982 for me and 1975 for my wife) association and relationship with our home church came to an end amicably and without much fanfare, not that I wanted to let the world know. I would credit the decision as one of the fruits of pandemic-induced changes. While we remain extremely grateful from the nurturing when we were spiritual babies to the eventual “send off” as missionaries from our home church, this also marked a significant end to our long chapter. 

At the end of last year (2021), I cleared out of my office, since our organization was downsizing its office footprint and communicated to us that only the “essential” office-related staff will be given office space in another part of Pasadena. While I loved the idea of decentralization and not needing to show up in the office setting, I was faced with the giant task of getting rid of books, files, conference materials, and other knick-knacks I had accumulated since 1988. Just the other day, I opened the closet door in my bedroom and stared at my “office” clothes that I wore during my office days and no longer need or want. I told my wife that I should probably chuck these clothes. That was a vivid reminder of what my normal days used to look like. I ended up donating most of my missions-related books as well as a few precious archival-type books to an institution in Africa. My office furniture, including a desk I had once salvaged from a dumpster, sanded down and refinished and thus rightfully had grown fond of, and other files and conference materials either got thrown out or got shredded. I know I can get sentimental, imbuing more meaning than necessary to things, but I was cold and brutal in throwing stuff out this time. My wife and my adult children were proud of me. All in all, the act of clearing out of the office space triggered a series of events that was an ending of a long significant chapter in my life. 

Going further back to my sabbatical in 2020, which coincided with the beginning of the COVID pandemic, I spent the bulk of my time reflecting and reevaluating the first 30 years of my life and ministry. Looking back, what started as a divine and timely gift of rest and renewal during my sabbatical and other series of events continue to signal a decisive ending to my old way of seeing and doing. 

And a new horizon is decidedly upon us. I have been sensing and discerning a new horizon for the last 2 years, which is becoming clearer and gets my blood pumping and my juices flowing. My wife and I are far more fixated on the future than on the past. The past “eternity stranded in time” is giving way to a future forging of our lives. I am grateful again that I was able to spend a wintery season of death and deconstruction which segued into a spring of desire during my sabbatical. The once dominant trajectory of my life is winding down while a new strand of trajectory is birthed and launched. Without the last big chapter of my life, there is no new chapter and there is no me. Exercising self-compassion in this regard is required of me as I realize it leads to others-compassion. All the more being grateful for the pause and grace of being in the liminal space of overlap of two lines on a graph where the old paradigm is waning and a new paradigm of doing life is waxing. . . 

ARE YOU A PHONATIC?

Sometimes, I feel like a tourist in my own town. It is true that I can probably sleepwalk through most of the vast San Gabriel Valley neighborhood without the aid of Google map navigation, having lived here for more than 30 years. But when I approach my neighborhood with a little more wonder and curiosity, then new-old scenes unfold and reveal a kind of charm I have not noticed before. Yesterday was unseasonably wet and cooler than the previous days where shorts and short sleeves ruled the daytime. What do you do when it is wet and cold in Southern California? You either go for Phở or Ramen. Either could have easily satiated my longing for hot slurpy and hearty noodle soup. When it is wet and cold outside, you slurp hot and wet noodles inside of you.

When we decided to go for Phở with our daughter, Hannah, and her husband, Jeremiah, they approved without hesitation. So, we had a double date. The go-to Phở joint in our neighborhood is Golden Deli which is jam-packed most of the time. We knew we were not the only ones thinking Phở so we got there earlier. At least, we thought we did. But alas, the line looked unbearably long, and our stomachs could not wait. We quickly pivoted to Phở Super Bowl, which is literally about 100 meters away across the street from Golden Deli. While the name sounds “superior” to Phở  78, Phở  88, or Phở  2000, it is decidedly mediocre compared to other clever names: Good Pho You, Phonomenal, What the Pho, Absolutely Phobulous, etc. At the end of the day, you do not and would not go for Phở based on the name of the restaurant. Nor the ambiance. Not even the health grade of the restaurant unless it is C. It is all about what is in the bowl. I am sure many phonatics would agree with me. . .

Even at the Super Bowl, we beat the crowd by a few minutes and saw people lining up outside minutes after we sat down. We promptly ordered and loudly slurped (more me than others) our way through the bottom of the bowl with no shame. My favorite Phở is the one with tripe and tendon. Both have different complementary textures and are chewy while tendon when it is cooked perfectly is chewy gelatinous and not mushy gelatinous. With Sriracha and Hoisin sauces, the combination is hard to beat. They do that extremely well in Golden Deli, but I was surprised by how competitive Super Bowl’s bowl was. As soon as we walked in and got seated, the first thing we noticed was the choice of music; someone’s playlist of Disney songs. Oddly funny for a Phở restaurant but when Phở finally showed up in my face, I forgot all about the music. When I gained further consciousness after slurping enough soup and looked around, the restaurant was filled with people from different cultures and races. I felt right at home as a “tourist” having just come back from Korea in Southern California.

Being a tourist in my own hometown is not so bad. What I used to consider normal and ordinary are not normal and ordinary anymore. What is normal and ordinary comes alive in ways I have not seen before. While being a tourist is categorically different from aliens and strangers that Apostle Paul talks about, it forces a similar outlook and perspective in seeing things differently. One minor difference may be that a tourist would possess more capacity for wonder and curiosity. I have lived through all three categories in my life and could identify with all three positions. Not to force fit any, the word pilgrim would possibly encompass all three categories of people and their characteristics. Rather than hold on and defend a sense of various entitlements through life, I would like to think that it is healthy and necessary to navigate and live life as all three aspects of the pilgrim.