the dance of the ink riddled fingers

this is peace.

Posted in epiphany tiffany, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 04/02/2014

I’m learning about peace. About what it means to place all my uncertainty and trust in God.

I’m trying to learn about what it means not to get offended and what it means to pray a tiny little bit more.

I think I’m beginning to taste the eventual joys about letting oneself shrink; being curious about how God would allow growth in imperfection.

I am learning about how God likes the little people who don’t know how to do things. As He usually likes to do things differently from the people who think they know how to do things anyway.

I’m beginning to enjoy the stories from the Bible again like a child having discovered an adventure novel in the adult non-fiction section of literature.

…and I’m totally enamoured by my husband who inspires me all the time because he can’t get his head out of this particular adventure book.

This is peace.


looking upwards and onwards!

Posted in pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 13/01/2014

It seems that life has keep me busy enough to have not been keeping up with social media and the blogosphere.  Sometimes I’m tempted to flash up envy-worthy photos of my life, because I’ve had the time of my life and I’ve never enjoyed living so much before… but then I never get around to it and I try to remind myself that I don’t need people to think I’m cool for me to enjoy life to the full.  I honestly don’t know when I’ll next write, because everything is happening at the same time in brilliant ways, so here’s my life :

I’m into my third month of marriage.  Aside from loving everything about my new life with this madman, I’m trying to be watchful not to make life into too much of a routine, or take it for granted.  Because routines and complacency go hand in hand, and this incredible relationship with my husband is much too precious for me to leave in the hands of autopilot.  Yes, I hear the smirks of older couples saying “just you wait”. But I’m not waiting, I’m acting now to try to teach myself from the beginning, how to live each day as it’s own and not as a carbon copy of the week before.  Sounds like something people start to say when things start feeling older.  But I don’t ever want to feel like things are getting old, ordinary and dull.  It’s almost a phobia.  Even though our life and love together is “new” and nothing yet is quite old or settled, I still try to think of new ways to tell my man I love him.  I’ve wondered before if I’d ever use up all the “new” too early and run out of ideas by the time I’m forty – but I trust that we are as creative as our Creator; and remind myself that the thought of living a boring life is ridiculous and definitely avoidable.  Love has been around for as long as forever and surely there are enough new things to discover about it and to express it by that will exceed a lifetime of enjoyment.

I’m learning that every part of this “moving out” learning process is time consuming and a little tiring.  I still haven’t completely moved out of my parents’ house and need to clean out that old room that reeks of adolescence and clutter.  Learning to keep a little house in order and clean, also time consuming. Oh, and the cooking! Learning is slow, though steady – how I admire my mother.  Lo, having a grateful and encouraging husband helps plenty!

We’ve been talking on health this year and I think it might take years to learn and establish healthy lifestyle trends. Healthy eating, exercising, well resting… on top of a healthy prayer life and social life.  Of course, having just got married, the next step is to expand our family of two, right?  Don’t start spreading rumours, it probably won’t be immediately (there is too much for me to learn).  I’m not keen on bringing a child into the world without first knowing that our lives are at their healthiest and that we are well practiced in living life optimally.  So that when it comes to teaching said lifestyle for a quick little learner, it’s going to be easily reiterated by the example of our own lives. I’ve never been that healthy before – but I’m excited about being.

Then there is social life – and I presume this will take a little time calibrating. Because two have become one, we have to be smart in how socialising fits, because we can’t really maintain doubling in social events. It helps we have overlapping friendships, but uni days are over and I can’t spend every night out with everybody else anymore!

Lastly, this has been a large part of my thoughts today – children.  I have children, none of them “mine”. Something I’m learning about is how much you need to care about children to work with them to achieve everything that humanity hoped would ever be accomplish – which I would fall short of on my own.  This year, my scope of children to care for and be responsible for has widened to an uncomfortable many.  Sometimes I’m amazed that so many people trust me.  Other times, I’m amazed not everything has fallen to pieces when left with me.  And through all my years of working with children, volunteering and having bursting ideas of how to change the world… it is now that I feel least ready.  I felt more ready when I started, and now I’m really learning what it takes – and I’m not in any hurry to jump headlong into it – though the opportunity now arises. But maybe that’s why the time is now, because as I’ve grown a little more into adulthood, I feel more like a child staring at life’s playground with one handful of ideas and another hand holding mine.

But bring on the playground, the falling down, the getting up, the swinging fast and high and the walking around and watching others play.  Bring on the playing with old friends, making new friends, getting scared and getting over it.  Bring on learning to share or protecting and looking after special things.  Give me the chance to prove you wrong or right but smile up to your ears.

There is no other way to explain it – the only way I will make it through 2014 laughing and triumphant, is if Jesus existed, liked me and chose to help me with absolutely everything in life.  Because looking at it now, it could have swallowed me by now. But even if it does, this time next year, at least I’ll be able to tell you what the inside of a whale looks like.

Happy New Year, friends.

Do something stupendous with your life this year…

and tell a great story – and if you can’t find somebody to listen, tell me!

grade three life lessons

It was 3:05pm when I walked out of the classroom with various worksheets ready to multiply into class copies in one hand and porcelain cup in the other (and bottle of tomato sauce under arm – today was lunch order day).

As I walked the freshly painted path along the perimeter of the classrooms, I imagined some canon in H major being played on an out of scene piano as I slow-motioned my way to the staff room.  Smirking at my imaginary dramatisation of having paralleled today’s procession with fireworks going off in the grade three classroom, I breathed deeply and tried to refresh my perspective. I had to smile at my lack of understanding and the ridiculousness of children… and probably my inability to comprehend them.  Sometimes they puzzle me so, and I just want to smile or laugh… but I have to do it in secret – lest they think I find their misbehaviour amusing. I don’t. I seriously don’t.

Yet I cannot help but wonder what the perfect classroom looks like – and for who? A teacher’s definition of perfect is most definitely different from an eight year old’s definition of perfect.  I’m learning that I cannot control the classroom… and I don’t want to.  I want to do it differently (I’m aware that this is a dangerous thought).  What do I want?

I want absolutely respectful children to find joy in learning infinite amounts, to challenge themselves and continually rewrite their own personal bests; to accept good things and reject bad things; to be resilient and not petty; to love diversity and always play to each other’s strengths; to be confident enough to try and self-esteemed enough to not fear mistakes, instead learning from them; to learn the power of silence (in concentration, self control, and ignoring stupid things other children say); to know who they are… etc, etc. To put it short, I want a million things of children and expect that it is possible.  But such expectation means that days like today can take a toll on such expectant hopefuls.

I’ve just discovered that the most terrifying and God-graceful thing about being a teacher is realising that of all the specks I see around the classroom… they are nothing on the log that I lug around and justify as “me”.  It is amazing that I get to learn very humbling lessons from children without them knowing it, and not feel the pressure to change – I merely want to.  How’s this for cool: the only thing these children don’t like about any of their teachers is that they get in trouble from them – there is nothing about any of us that they know to disapprove of.  They don’t tell us to change, they don’t tell us what we should be.  They get to teach us without either of us even knowing it most of the time.

I am no more perfect than they – perhaps a tad more experienced and matured (one could hope).  Alas I come to the end of myself here.  I am realising almost all of my weaknesses in this grade three classroom. I’m learning more about myself and my ways of dealing with problems (and them) and how effective they really are.  If anything, these children are schooling me on how humanity acts and reacts in various circumstances (myself included).  They are merely shorter and more honest representations of adults.

They’re changing me, little by little, these eight year olds are hitting something very close to my heart. Perhaps they’re actually hitting my heart; because, of every person in my life, they know how best to irk me without even knowing it. They also know how to make me smile and chuckle to myself without knowing it.  They make me wonder about them without even knowing it.  They make me sad when their families are in a rough patch, without me knowing that I’m sad until another teacher asks me why I look sad.  They make me proud of them for the simplest things.  Their habit of stating the obvious make me want to cry and burst out laughing simultaneously. Today I got a classic, “Miss, you look very angry”, and with five spoken words, one ridiculous girl broke my anger (but I made sure not to smile because I was trying to get a point across).

I suppose this is a rant/boast about the ins and outs of the best job in the world.  People who find out I did kindergarten teaching and now primary look at me with respect and tell me I must have a lot of patience.  I suppose I’d like to think that I have.  But secretly, working with children requires much less patience than working with adults and never ceases to reward.

Interestingly, I’m finding it harder to be social with adults than I am with children – unless the adults have something to do with children because anyone with anything to do with children could talk about children until their voice gives out.

Towards the end of my frazzled day, my conversation with the bus girls entailed excited stories on the many methods and experiences of losing teeth.  It was really good conversation!  You just don’t really have those kinds of conversations with grown ups who’ve forgotten the joys of each process of growth.

I’ll leave you with this – of all the people with the most patience in the world.  These children, though they may get impatient about the petty things, are the most patient with the most important things.  And you know patience by abilities to forgive.  Children forgive easily.  And knowing that I can come to school each day and as long as I smile in the morning, these children are going to smile back (bigger) – regardless of the detentions I may have had to distribute the day before – makes it easy to love my job.

They are good to me, these children.  Even if they aren’t always “good”.


The cashier watched me curiously as I tried pathetically to look like I had a purpose for loitering around the front of the small local grocery store.   My eyes flittered across the lolly selection, strategically placed at the front counter.  Then walking to the lolly aisle, choosing a box of tictacs, I fiddled with it and then put it back; keeping a careful watch on the old guy with the walking stick at the far right corner of the little store.  He had been talking to the staff stacking shelves for about eight minutes now and my restlessness was growing.  I paced a little, walking the inside perimeter of the cool section and then into the alcoholic beverages area.  I smirked, betting I probably looked about 16.  In this time about seven others had walked in and out of the store and I sussed out each individual, trying to work out whether it was any of them.  Blank. The only person I was keenly aware of was him, elderly Mr. Conversation.  And with a sigh of relief, I heard him round up his stories with the stockist and watched him hobble his way down the breakfast isle, scooping up a small box of cereal in his stride.  

He came behind me  into what had thankfully appeared as a que for the single cashier.  And as the man in front of me was paying, I turned around, sized him up and asked instinctively, “Do you need a hand?”

Standing awkwardly with walking sticking under arm, one bottle of tomato sauce in right hand, cereal in the other, he replied, “I’m about to fall over”, and my heart chuckled. Relieving him of his two burdensome goods and placing them on the counter, I finally met the eyes of the cashier and smiled, “I’ll take these for the gentleman.”  

“Is that why you were hanging around here?”
“Well, he took so long talking.”

Mr. Conversation was getting his wallet out and his limited agility meant that I had swiped and smiled before he had realised.  And as the cashier waved away his money, he stood there confused, looking to me, then the cashier and back again.

“Strangely enough, I was at home, and God told me to come here to pay for your groceries, so I ran here and waited for you” I said, still coming to terms with it in my own head.

“Oh God bless you, young lady! What would make you do that? Tell me your name. What school do you go to? You didn’t have to do that!…” 

He reached over to take back his things but I drew them away, “Which way are you going? I can take them for you.”

And so began my wonderment for yesterday.

We walked slowly, granted, and in that space of time – about forty-six minutes – a new found friend had opened his life to me, made me smile, taught me about things I’d never heard about and sunned my spirit!

His name was Graeme and he was just over six foot, with a whole head of perfectly white hair.  In my first two minutes with him, I’d learnt that he had an amputated toe (due to diabetics, and him not looking after himself as well as his late wife had).  He told me about his bung knee and how it had pained him since 80, but his Hungarian walking stick had been a help.  When I asked how old he was now, he told me 84, and I remarked “So you have your best years ahead of you!” To which, he knocked back his head and let out a trumpeting “AHAHA”, then almost embarrassed about that unexpected release of childish amusement, continued conversation as per composed 84 year old’s do.

Turns out he was qualified in economics but when that industry withheld occupations from him, he became a teacher – and never looked back.  Working at several school in Australia and one in Singapore, we talked about schools, and Singapore. I learnt about his family; that his granddaughter wanted to be a ballerina, his daughter was studying at ACU to be a teacher, his father was an ANZAC and his great great (great?) grandfather was a nightpoacher who caught rabbits from private property and was shipped to Australia for his crime – from whence the family became Australian.

He told me fondly that he played bowls four times a week and had another game at 1:30 that afternoon, followed by a barbeque (which he’d bought the tomato sauce for).

He counted to ten for me in both Romanian and Serbian, and recalled to me the first time he’d heard Bahasa Malay, reciting “eighteen dollars” for me in the then local tongue (which I’ve of course forgotten by now).  He gave me an insightful history lesson on Hungary, Anglican church origin and told me a little about his travels.

We finally approached his new little white car, which he described as the smallest car that could fit him.  He even admitted he didn’t know if he’d still be driving after his current three year licence expired. We stood there talking for a good while longer, and my eyes tired with the brightness of the sky. But my smile wasn’t phased as he told me wonderful things. Wonderful, because he had a wealth of knowledge, a richness of stories and a humble sense of humour! Of every word he spoke, and every story he told me from his 84 years of life – there was not a word of complaint: no complaint about his diabetes, missing his wife, his sore knee.  No pity for himself, no sorrow, nor regret or bitterness.  Here was a man that I was very much beginning to love.  He was sweet as well.  Before he farewelled me, he insisted I kiss him on the cheek.  Then suggestively leant his right cheek down to me, and I obliged, smirking that my 25 year old fiancé need not be threatened by my new 84 year old friend.

What character! Graeme, you beautiful heart, you!

– – – – –

Haha, I write this not to boast any good deeds, but to remind every young person that the most incredible characters are not unusually three times your age.  Also to give testimony that love and care for even strangers – in the simplest of ways will do more good than you can know, enriching your life probably more than the recipient’s.

Where this is coming from: I’m beginning to learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Beginning to learn what it means.  About how reciting the entire book of John will not change my life (or anybody else’s) unless I am serious about deciding to love those within my vicinity. And if more people on this planet would consciously love others, the population of humanity would actually believe in love and how wonderful it is (and it wouldn’t take believers so long to convince non-believers – and themselves – to believe in Love, because they’d encountered it before). 

Here’s some suggestions, simple ideas that won’t put you out of pocket more than $3: when you go to the shops, buy an extra chocolate bar and then give it to the cashier, and thank them by name (they have nametags for a reason). In the coffee line of your usual cafe, buy the coffee for the person behind you.  Write on the back of your restaurant bill and leave it for the waiter/waitress telling them how amazing they are (whether you ‘felt’ they were or not!). Just try to make it a way of life to love on those around you – without the condition of them knowing you or having to be nice to you!

I’ll cap it off with this, [for the crazy Christians out there:] at the end of my lovely moment with Graeme, I casually told him “You know your leg won’t be causing you too much trouble from now on”.  Sure, I believe that Jesus heals, but I didn’t need to pray fervently at 90 decibels for it to transpire. What was very encouraging though, is that he believed with me; and just as a token, told me to touch his knee because he’d read stories where touching brought healing, so I did.  Then we left it at that! 

Haha, and yes, I know there is still an infinite amount of things I need to learn about love, real love, and how Jesus loves and sees every single incredible human being, and even every single horrible human being.  Sure I’ve have my less than lovely moments, and people who I’ve grown impatient with. But I’m not going to stir you about who deserves love and who doesn’t.  I’ve been told to love and that’s what I’m learning to do, I just had a cool story to share.

Mind you, not all love stories will go that way and they may not be that fun, but who knows, you’ll have to love to find out…


Posted in heroes of mine, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 08/04/2013

It doesn’t take much.
Not much at all.

Just a little trust, and a little hope, a little smile and a shared thought. Then a little more trust, a little more hope; bigger smiles and developing understandings. They all began to make sense over 474 days. Turns out, I’d begun to see my highest hopes in another person.  As though everything I’d hoped for was hidden in one man.

And no, he wasn’t perfect, nor was he Jesus.

Therefore I couldn’t possibly want him, or rely on him, or give my life to him. Could I?, maybe, I could.

Maybe I could trust a man who wasn’t Jesus.  Maybe this idealist could be completely enamoured by one rugged and imperfect man.

He thought/thinks differently.  I can’t actually remember when it happened but he became  more and more interesting.  He fed my curiousity with various dreams, ideologies and questions.  He kept me intrigued with the world, being my personalised broadcaster of current and historic knowledge.  I learned of everything I had never seemed interested in, nor care about, nor knew about – until he began to introduce me to a wider world.  I often still maintain disinterest, but now by choice, not ignorance.

He treats me as though I am the most beautiful person in the world, and I still don’t really know how to apply make-up.  But he prefers it that way.  He makes me laugh, he makes me feel like I’m the sensible one frequently because he’ll have no problem being ridiculous.  He’d sometimes be defensive, few times irritable and often boyish.  Occasionally vulnerable and seriously charming.  He doesn’t always hold the door open for me, but sometimes he will.  Sometimes he’d pick me up and hang me upside down.  And to be honest, I can’t really remember what it was that drew me to him.

It’s madness.  Madness to be in love.  Madness to want almost pathetically just to be in the company of this other person. To learn more about them, study them all the time, give them more than you’d give yourself.  It’s madness being so thrilled by the simple things that he’d do, the minute things he might say and how his touch could bring instant safety.  There aren’t hands in the world warmer than his.  And there isn’t facial hair in the world that keeps me as entertained as his does.  It’s funny because he can’t exactly sing, but I love it most when he does.  The times I’ve felt the strongest are when I’ve tried my best to keep him up.  Nevertheless, have I ever felt so protected!  I’ve never had such great conversations as I’ve had with him.  Never stretched my imagination as far as I have with him.  I’ve never been so open to life, love, learning and truth (correction).  I’ve never admired somebody this close before.  Never felt so sure as I do now.

Never been this mad. This madness is so exhilarating one might easily mistake it for nonsensibility.  But it is very sensible to be in love.  In a world where we are taught to love ourselves, the only way to rebel against such flawed systems is to love another.

They say I’m young.  They say I’ll learn about how hard it can be committing life with somebody else.  That once we’re bound by covenant and surname that everything unglorious rears it’s head.  Well, mind the inaccurate quoting, but it seems very much inferred. And maybe they’re right.  Maybe my 30, 40 or 50 year old self will read this again and laugh at my 23 year old naivety.  But then again, maybe not.  Maybe my 60 year old self will read this, smirk and whisper “that was when our love was small”.

This is us.  This is madness.

engagement is amazing

new love.

Posted in heroes of mine, pin the tail on the love, the poet-tree by enisea on 26/11/2012

I have found her.

I have never before found a celebrity or somebody of a particularly influential position who I’ve felt I most relate to and am inspired by… until now.  I clicked on one beautiful video, and she captivated me, not only that, but she soon had me addicted to her: her presentation, to the messages and the honesty, to the nervousness and love of poetry!  I couldn’t seem to watch her videos fast enough and my eyes were starry as I adored her.  This is probably the closest I’ve ever come to saying “she doesn’t, but she does know me – and I don’t but I do want to be just like her”.  Haha – allow me to bombard you with a few of her poetries and stories – she’s beautiful – and I know you’ll agree – and you’ll probably tell me you knew all about her and I’m the last person to jump on her brilliant bandwagon – but I’m so excited about finding her!

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sarah Kay:

the steeper the fall, the higher the bounce

To a certain love of mine who always bounces back and impresses me every single time.  I saw this video and imagined this is what redemption looked like – slow motion joy, unadulterated glee, and an unreasonable and overwhelming amount of it.

We’ve got this.


Posted in pin the tail on the love by enisea on 20/10/2012

It’s been a while since I’ve tortured you all with some sickly sweet regurgitation of the great love in my life.  So allow me the pleasure of doing so again. Especially because I have ridiculous amounts of work to do… so you can imagine I’m currently at the height of my daydreams!

We’ve clocked one month short of a year together, D and I.

It’s been a ridiculous year – and I’ll say “year” now because the month before we became “us”, he was overseas and I’d never been closer to someone than I felt with him while he rocked America (and my world).  And as though to make some sort of tradition of it, he’s decided to jet again, next week, for three weeks.  I suppose while I’m anchored ball and chain to my work and study, he’ll be my eyes out of this state.

So what can I say?  I have never felt so inspired, blessed, supported, valued, beautiful, (I really could go on forever), etc, as I have with D.  Hey, of all the romance critics out there, having being single for 22 years, I wouldn’t so much have believed, let alone imagined, that another human being might have the capacity to have that effect on me. (I barred myself from chic flicks as a teen so I wouldn’t be deceived into believing hollywood fairytales of charm and riches). Sure, it’s still ‘early days’ and I’ve heard that the so called “honeymoon period” has potential to last two years. But I’m sure I’m not blinded by infatuation (that’s what they all say, don’t they?).

Well, we sort of haven’t fought yet.  Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been real honest about some things and quite confronting about particular this and that.  We’ve disagreed and we’ve had moments of silence and biting tongues and gums; swallowing insecurities and frustrations; changing subjects and looking away.  We’ve experienced those – they weren’t pleasant but I’m glad for all of it and even gladder it hasn’t been all that frequent.  I’m thrilled I never entered relationship any younger than I did because the younger me wouldn’t have been as civil as I’ve learnt to be now and probably would’ve dealt with issues with a great deal more stupidity (I’ve had my moments of idiocy as is).  I suppose I want to share a little of what goes on between us because I’m a believer in beautiful relationships and think that bitter perspectives of “there’s no such thing as love blah blah love is ugly and painful” ought to be dashed against rocks into a kazillion pieces.  Love is amazing, but you actually have to take onus over doing it right, because it can be done right (and it can also be done very wrong).  And I’m going to have the audacity to say that we’re doing it right.

Our conversations are about things bigger than ourselves a lot of the time.  We throw our desires further than we currently are: dreaming about affecting our worlds and praying that we think outside of ourselves.  We dabble in imagination of what life might look like later, making sure to harness enough ambition that only we’d believe what we were saying.  We hear each other and have been really honest about imperfect us: learning to take honesty, and learning to deal honesty.  We challenge and question each other as to why we haven’t yet started or maintained things we said we’d do. We’d build up when the other is a little down. We pray every morning (mostly). We encourage like crazy.  We have moments of non-sensibility and enjoy silliness.  We consume too much food, have incredible food adventures and gain weight or complain about being overfull.  We are accountable to our respective besties when we’ve been a little too cosy with each other (because we’re the save-sex-til-marriage type of couple).  We inform each other of  funfacts, check-this-outs and have a collection of victory soft toys from “skill testers”.

And lastly, or firstly… we love God more than we love each other, and/or we let God love us more than the other can.  It’s a peculiar thing, but because our expectations of love fall firstly on God (perfection) and then on each other (the imperfect), we aren’t disappointed by what love ‘should be’ as we have what love is (God), and then some (each other).

Haha, though I’ll be honest, at times I’ve gotten the priority and order of who to love first a little jumbled and have been saddened or disappointed because I expected D to be a little closer to perfection than he was, and shortchanged myself of a few occasions God wanted to love me and grow me in different ways because I was being stubborn and took too long to convince… (long sentence). Yeah.

Well that’s my current take on the whole relationships concept.  No doubt I’m still very novice about the whole thing and there are oceans to learn about what love is and means and how crazy it can all be.  Lo I couldn’t be more childishly excited about learning it with D than I am. I just think he’s super cool… And if you knew him like I’m beginning to, you would too.

Has your face contorted by now?  I know if I weren’t smiling right now, I’d be disgusted too.


get up, sweetheart. you’re not all severed – you’ve still got heart.

Posted in frozen frames, pin the tail on the love by enisea on 25/06/2012

weak hearts, small life, bland colours – poor form, humanity, poor form.

Posted in epiphany tiffany, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 22/06/2012

I don’t think either of us really visualised what we said we’d do. Scrounging his car for paper (because for once I didn’t bring my well-equip bag), we managed to find relatively blank spaces on one page in some magazine, and tore five pieces from it.  After bouncing ideas off each other in a brief brainstorm we wrote few words on each tear of magazine and drove to the sheltered car park nearby. The metal inhabitants were few and we, like guilty children, pointed to one car or another and stealthily slid small inscriptions under windscreen wipers.

There’s something about trying to make the world a better place, one smile at a time, together, that makes me remember how much more exciting life is when not (always) self-revolving.  There’s something about the combination of love and creativity that opens a person to how much more can be extracted from life.  As though to unlock an unimaginable spectrum of unexplored intrigue within each conventional colour, because unless you begin to pry at each individual colour, you won’t find the rainbows in each hue.

I’m beginning to think there is so much more to human interaction than society has taught us, as though we’ve robbed ourselves of rich opportunity because we forgot/were never taught how to love from the beginning.  Why must you know them before you love them?  Why must our first subconscious thought be so self-revolving along the lines of making good first impressions, to be liked, or thoughts on “how will this occasion/person benefit/entertain me?”… as opposed to “how can I make their day?”

Melbourne streets (and I hear, it has spread further) have been sadly infected with the horrible epidemic of the never-make-eye-contact-with-strangers-and-don’t-smile-and-look-as-unhappy-as-you’ve-convinced-youself-your-life-is.  And if you walk streets, everyone is too involved in their own small world to love and be loved by their own kind (and so long as you’re human, we are all the same kind).

Having been brought up in this culture, it is no wonder then, that such simple and token things as purposely placing a few words on a stranger’s windscreen would make me feel like the most benevolent twenty-three year old I know!  And isn’t that the most tragic thing? That I would think that nice little efforts were more than a drop in the ocean!  That we have forgotten how to (truly) love humanity because we’ve decided our hearts are not strong enough too – that we can only love so few; and because we give so little practice to our little thumping figurative organs, they really don’t grow all that strong.  The misconception that once hurt, a heart is forever injured (and give me life-suport for the rest of my life) is first-world foolishness (too easily reinforced by chic-flicks).  Not that I have done any research, but from memory, the greatest lovers of humanity were the ones that hurt most but whose hearts kept pumping, whose resolves and dreams weren’t crippled by feeble emotion or selfish “feed me” mentalities and whose minds throbbed with creativity.

And don’t you who I’ve just accused go and feel pathetic because there’s now one more thing wrong with you. Do something about it, nobody’s going to save you, you have to figure it out yourself.  And I know all you ever wanted was somebody to understand you, and love you for who you are, but when was the last time you made the effort to understand somebody else, for the sake of loving them? For the sake of love!  For goodness sake!

And here’s the disclaimer: I’m not even close.  I’m aware I’m incredibly deep in selfishness, absorbed in my own fat ideas of how important I am; and having mastered my disguise of self-centredness, have fooled most into thinking I’m a “good person”. But hey, little by little you’ve got to to love more, because if you don’t and if you aren’t trying to, you’re shrinking the definition of love into something that is, well, a lie. I didn’t even imagine this is what I’d write about – I was just going to tell you about last night’s date night with the boyfriend… but the pen turned on me and now all I want to say is: shame on humanity for not loving more and for not teaching us how to.  It’s now our responsibility to change that.

to the lonely

Posted in 52 pickup, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 19/06/2012

I hate(d) being lonely when I was/am lonely.  It was the enemy that had chained me up and locked me away periodically through the second half of my life and made me swear to rescue others. So I chose many of my friends on the basis that they were lonely and I could help them, because lonely people only need company when they’re lonely, don’t they?  Stupid thought.  I knew what I was doing was unsustainable, but my ambition to eradicate loneliness bit off more than I could chew…  I accumulated too many lonely friends.  I know they were too many because I would not be able to fight loneliness from all of them most of the time.  Loneliness needs company and understanding – but not just in the dire moments – in all moments (so I thought), so I was a short-term friend.  I would ferociously defend them for week, sometimes months, the lucky ones got me for a year.  And then I would find more lonely people to befriend and feel compelled to love. It’s as though friends needed to qualify for my active friendship by being in a terrible place.  It’s horrible isn’t it?  Turns out fighting loneliness was a losing battle and I watched some friends slip further because I had unfortunately reinforced the stupid lie that they were not worth remaining with.  I’d think of most friends and usually let loose a guilty sigh over them, hoping they were better, many times – knowing they were not.  Loneliness was a greedy, relentless beast – grinning cruelly at me – because it could not have me so it would have those I loved, and knew it could torture me through them.

I have diagnosed myself with an addiction to the lonely.  I cannot help myself, I wish to love the lonely people for at least a little while.  Perhaps I wasn’t aware how selfish I was being, wanting to rescue one lonely person at a time, to be someone else’s hero, to be held in high regard!  And then slowly taper away in frequency, because everyone who knew me even a little, knew me as being perpetually busy.  I over-committed and under-delivered with most things and then felt guilty 55% of the time because everything I did and everyone I knew deserved better.

The kind ones say they understand, they forgive me for forgetting them.  Others see me as a popularity chaser (since many of my popular friends were rather lonely).

Looking back at my own battle with loneliness, sure there were a few golden friends who hoisted me up from hard, sad and depressing places, but they weren’t my salvation from my fear of being unwanted… it wasn’t them – they didn’t save me… so why I thought I could be another’s salvation is beyond me!  I conquered my loneliness by the revelation that I really wasn’t alone, I wasn’t unloved, I wasn’t unvalued and I was worth somebody else’s all.  And I know you’ll probably roll your eyes at this: but my cure for loneliness, helplessness, hopelessness was realising that Jesus Christ had conquered it all before me.  That because He was with me, would never leave nor forsake me – would love me more than I knew was possible and wasn’t confined to the selfish instinct of every other human being in my life – well, I had the capacity to hope, and therefore the capacity to help.  It was He who consistently beat at my defensive walls, rebutted my perception that I wasn’t beautiful, calmed my paranoia, gently dealt with my insecurities and built me into a slightly more resilient person.  It wasn’t every other person with a lovely smile, a kind word or beautiful company.  It was love at it’s best. Because His love endured the harshest loneliness to ensure I wouldn’t be lonely – so to insist on being lonely sort of spits right at Him.

I suppose I just wanted to apologise to all of my friends for neglecting them – and they know who they are (well, all of you).  And yes, I tried to be there when you needed but I wasn’t there enough and I’m sorry, I’m genuinely sorry.  My disclaimer is that as much as I could be there for you, it would never be enough and I could never defend you effectively enough from loneliness – though I tried (though pathetically).  Honest to goodness, I say this with as much of my heart as I can.  There’s only one love that will ever complete you.  Unfortunately, without Him  you will never escape loneliness.  Everyone knows love should be perfect, and there is only one perfect love.  Fortunately, perfect love drives out all fear (of being alone, of being rejected, of not being missed); and even more fortunately – Love is incredibly delighted about you.

Take it from me, I love you (though not enough) and He loves you (enough not to give up, ever).

To the lonely, you are loved.

good to me

Posted in epiphany tiffany, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 28/04/2012

Sometimes all I can do is whisper “thank you”, and watch a tiny breath and a couple of measely words disperse invisibly between the addressed and myself.  There is so much I still can’t believe I’m blessed with. And still, despite my foolish banter, unsatisfied sighs, selfish actions, in my self-inflicted hardships and my own lack of understanding/organisation, I am still much too loved.

It seems that for almost twenty three years, everyone has become increasingly good to me.

Thank you, God.
The first, forever.

suave in shadows

Licorice icecream. Night rain. Intentional speechlessness. Him. Serious face.

impressed or unimpressed, but hardly surprised.

Posted in how was your day?, pin the tail on the love by enisea on 10/02/2012

Who else’s boyfriend has kicked in a locked door, broken a boomgate and smashed a golf cart windscreen in the span of a week?

Bragging rights are all mine, ladies.


Posted in how was your day?, pin the tail on the love by enisea on 05/02/2012

Between the shameless excess of PDA (physical displays of affection) and the arrogance of intimacy-phobes, we’ve all been framed and wrongly accused. Yes, I’ve too often scoffed at both when all they needed was understanding or at least an attempt at empathy, nobody ever needed my judgement.  Alas now, finally stamped with the judgement of others, I suppose I can afford a wry smile at my previous and very young prejudice.

With a laugh I’ll take you back about five years, when leaning on the back of the old church pews, I playfully imagined with a friend how un-needy I’d be as a girlfriend (because that’s like, so uncool).  I remember stating something along the lines of, “Yeah, I’d be fine not seeing my boyfriend for a week, or even just once I week. Yeah, I wouldn’t really need him!” laughed a big-headed young and “independent” seventeen year old.  My dear seventeen year old self, if you saw no need for a boyfriend, why on earth would you have one?  Which would appropriately identify why I didn’t have one… until now (when I’ve finally realised I’m not exactly – nor would I want to be –  “independent”, or content doing life singular).

Independent.  That’s what I wanted to be, when I wasn’t sure how much my loved ones meant and mattered to me.  But I didn’t realise this proud state, the claim to being Independent was merely Glorified Isolation in a confused western culture. You know you can’t be independent of others without being a hermit? It is pride at its cruelest.  Bragging rights to not needing anyone, in living without having anyone. It’s minimal ties and an untrusting nature. It’s hard and it hurts and it doesn’t get much deeper because if and when it does, it turns the heart to stone and concretes the walls.  It’s self-destructive and inhumane.  I like needing people – I like being needed – it makes me human and very much flesh and blood.

Hahaha, it’s hard to do much else than just ignore insensitive comments or harsh character accusations of those who’ve little understanding.  This said, even those having experienced a similar scenario have no reason to even approach or have dealt with it similarly, and why should they? They and I – however same same or different – are not each other.  But hey, if you want to tell me about how good or bad you’re progressing with your dearly beloved, I’ll do my best to try and understand – because I’m now familiar with the negligible statements of the un-understanding. Simply put, I’ve had to eat my own words.

So I know it’s only been nine days, but I miss D a little.  More over the weekend than anything.  Go ahead and judge me.  If you knew what it was like having such an amazing person around every other day, you’d miss him too.  The weekend’s nearly over – thank God!  Six days til I see him. Oh shame, I’m counting down…

Enough of that, the pressure’s relieved now that I’ve said it. I just couldn’t pretend it didn’t at all effect me! I’m dependent like that. And I wanted to be obvious and honest (though he’s already heard a little of it and I’m glad he instead replies to the other conversation, not addressing my few statements of noticing his absence. Hahaha, it’s funny how some people respond exactly as we need them to. I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t want to talk about it. Now that I’ve said it, I don’t think it’d be much of a problem). Hahaha! (One could only hope!)

That is all. Good of you to read my word vomit.