To Be Found

"At issue here is the question: 'To whom do I belong? To God or to the world?' Many of my preoccupations suggest that I belong more to the world than to God. A little criticism makes me angry, and a little rejection makes me depressed. A little praise raises my spirits, and a little success excites me. It takes very little to raise me up or thrust me down. Often I am like a small boat on the ocean, completely at the mercy of its waves.

All the time and energy I spend in keeping some kind of balance and preventing myself from being tipped over and drowning shows that my life is mostly a struggle for survival: not a holy struggle, but an anxious struggle resulting from the mistaken idea that it is the world that defines me.

As long as I keep running about asking 'Do you love me? Do you really love me?' I give all power to the voices of the world and put myself in bondage because the world is filled with 'ifs'. The world says: 'Yes, I love you if you are good-looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I love you if you have a good education, a good job, and good connections. I love you if you produce much, sell much, and buy much.' There is an endless 'ifs' hidden in the world's love. These 'ifs' enslave me, since it is impossible to respond adequately to all of them. The world's love is and always will be conditional.

As long as I keep looking for my true self in the world of conditional love, I will remain 'hooked' to the world - trying, failing, and trying again. It is a world that fosters addicitions because what it offers cannot satisfy the deepest craving of my heart.

I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found.

Why do I keep ignoring the place of true love and persist in looking for it elsewhere? Why do I keep leaving home where I am called a child of God, the Beloved of my Father?..."

- Henri Nouwen, from "The Return Of The Prodigal Son"


Take this melody that I'm singing over you,
Singing over you
That you may never forget where you came from
Though you depart for far and distant lands
I'll be watching for you on the horizon
Waiting for you to come back home

Oh and when you return child,
I'll lay my hands on you
Welcoming you back from your weary paths
Welcoming you home, my child

And though some may not understand
The joy I have to see you
I have heard your doubts
I have heard your cries
And sought hard after you
Waiting only for this moment

Here in the shadow of my wings
You are sheltered,
My favour rests upon you
And I wrap my arms around you
And together we sing, together we sing

Home together

Take this melody that I'm singing over you,
Singing over you
That you may never forget that you are my beloved.

Lift Us Sunwards

"... Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,

God of glory, Lord of love;

Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee,

Opening to the sun above.

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;

Drive the dark of doubt away;

Giver of immortal gladness,

Fill us with the light of day..."

Summer Rose

"To love someone means to see him as God intended"

- Dostoevsky

Thoughts On Wheels

Was thinking about this on the ride home today.

In Cultural Studies debates, people talk about high and low-culture.

But what bothers me most, when it comes to art, is that it has become manufactured.

Take a picture, and you can refine it, change the tones, alter the lighting...basically turn it into something the subject never was.

Record a song, and they'll correct all the wrong notes, crystalise your voice...basically turn it into a pristine clean product.

Can we still say that this kind of clinical art is an extension of ourselves, of our hearts?

To me it seems that simulations of a constructed reality is what art is being turned into.


Maybe this simply runs parallel to the importance our society places on perfection.

Is an off-note all that offensive?


My ears are currently seduced by: The Fray - How To Save A Life