Snow

This past quarter I had the chance to compose a song. Intro to Composition. The class (about 10 students) spent 10 weeks working on a final project, which was a 5 minute piece about an individual topic on any instrument, and that was the only grade in the class. We each had to write a song, find a performer to play the song in a concert setting, and then discuss the song. At first, I didn't like the way the professor approached writing music. He used "materials" such as inverting and retrograding a melody, getting someone's birthday and using that as the time signature (e.g. birthday is 9/16 so time signature can be 9/16), and all these crazy things that didn't include sitting and waiting around for a spark of genius.

He made one surfer guy, who wanted to write about the ocean, go to the beach for half a day and write down observation. He ended up recording the height and length of the incoming tides at 15 minute intervals for 4 hours. Another girl said that emotions help her write songs so the professor made her write 200 different emotions. She brought in one piece of paper with size 4 font with 200 emotions. (When the professor wasn't there one week she admitted she used a thesaurus. No shame girl, I would have done the same thing). This other guy ended up making a piece about a microwave because he once mentioned it as an example of where he gets inspiration. hah! Suckah. as in... it sucks for him.

As for me, I thought I was pretty clever. My piece was about my relationship with noon. My assignment was to come up with 50 different characteristics of noon and me. Ridiculous. I was going to compose for piano and have each hand represent a sibling. Older sister and younger brother. To top it off I was going to have her come down and play the piece. A+ right there. The audience would be in tears - so touched, so moved by the love..... But it was too hard. It was like writing for two instruments. I ended up writing for viola because I knew Philip. beautiful. The professor challenged me in many ways to be active in composing and writing. I resisted at first, but I realized it doesn't just come to you, and if it ever feels like it does it's because of an accumulation of inspired activity. In other words, inspiration comes from outside sources apart from me or from anyone. In this case, I was trying to capture the essence of a relationship between siblings who are connected by the Father's love (yea pretty deep stuff, ey?). It only feels like it's from within because we tend to internalize our life and circumstances. But what do I know right?

I can go into all the details of the piece because every measure is purposeful, but I like to let the music speak for itself. Though one thing I do want to mention is that the main melody of the piece (especially repeated near the end) is a waltz that dad used to hum and sing when I was a kid. He would come home from work and pick noon and me up and dance around the house in a waltz. To this day, I don't know where the actual song is from, but noon and I remember the melody clearly. Big thanks to Philip, who pulled off the concert with less than an hour to practice... since I didn't finish until then.

Music to My Ears

Winter break!

Home sweet home. Dad started playing the piano, which happens only once a year at most, and everyone joined in singing some praise. He showed off his ability to play any song by ear (having had no classical training), and had us name any song so he could play it. Obviously, we suggested the most difficult songs we could think of to which he responded with "no fair" but ended up playing it anyway. I guess it makes sense that noon is perfect pitch and I got the leftovers. After a couple songs, mom and noon got bored and left to do their own thing while I stayed behind to humor dad. He started playing an unfamiliar song and I asked him what it was. He told me he had composed and published a few children songs back in the days. I already knew this, but this time I was intrigued and wanted know more. In particular, I wanted to know how he wrote the songs. According to dad, he woke up in the middle of the night one day with the music and lyrics in his head so he ran to the piano, played it, and wrote everything down. Talk about instant inspiration... or not. The lyrics were based on a bible verse he was recently meditating on and going over. The tune was reminiscent of a childhood lullaby - a child calling a father. It was a snapshot of his life, at least in part, in musical form.

I found these old gospel song books at home. I found them shoved and forsaken in the back of my closet. They're about the size of a big index card and they contain songs in both Korean and English with notes and chords for each song. My goal is to revive lost melodies and lyrics and have them speak to my life; these are the stories and testimonies of people who have come before me with a passion to lift up the name of Jesus in their lives. It's a snapshot of the season of life they were traveling through. A snippet of a story. Some notes are legatos with tears. Others are staccatos of joy. There must be a reason behind their melody, their words, their longing to praise Jesus in mourning or dancing, in sorrow or joy. These souls are so stayed on their source of hope that their hearts cry out in musical form. I want to see past the dots and lines, and hear their true laments and worship to God. Maybe I can learn even a little more about God.

I used to think I needed to "feel it" and doing anything purposeful to get that spark was "fake." It's like sitting in a car and waiting for the engine to turn on because using a key seems too methodical, thought out, and even legalistic. Stupid I is. Now I know I'm not going to sit around waiting for the light bulb to go off because inspiration is a result of inspired activity. I'm not talking about music anymore. I'm talking about my walk with Jesus. And simply knowing the One Inspired Act is not enough. Frustration comes when I don't see myself growing in Christ just as when I don't get the 'awakening' in writing a song. It's about doing the homework, doing my part, cranking the engine, living a life that is worthy of a song. The question is when that snapshot is taken in my life will I have a song about Jesus? or a song about the world?

His Song keeps me moving.

Downy

I've gone one month without a single update. This would suggest I haven't learned anything between then and now, but it's actually the opposite. I've learned so much that I don't know where to start, and already I'm beginning to forget (which was the reason for this blog). I look back on the 'remixes' that I've made and I realize how hard it is to keep up (starting with #1). Should I be accountable for these 'remixes'? It seems right to because otherwise I would just be a mouthpiece that plays no part in the symphony. Hm. Kinda feel like one right now. Keep on.

CCM Mammoth trip! Snowboarding was wonderful. Cabin time was funtastic. There were so many bumps in the road coming and going, but in the end everyone got back home safely - at least physically, maybe not spiritually. I've got my reservations. As weak as they are, I find myself holding back not because I have something to hold back but because I don't have what I should have. Progress is in slow motion. People are hungry, no, starving yet no one is eating. The only times there is nourishment are when they are force fed on rare occasions through people and circumstances just to stay barely alive.

"You've softened up from what I've heard about you."

I'm like a Downy fabric right now.

The gospel is soft in me. My unwillingness and unpreparedness to tell proves the lack of impact the gospel has made on me. It's not about sharing the gospel, but living it. Because when I live it, the words become natural.

Remix #7: Remixed to always be ready to give the reason for the Hope I have.

Focus

I went with Joe to watch the Harbor girls play an intense game of flag football. 4 OTs... wow. Great job! But this gets me thinking - football should have style points or trick points - non-touchdown points that a team racks up throughout the game based on tricks or plays and special points. It'll be like boxing where every play gets some kind of score. "Omg. She pulled TWO flags down! 4 points!" It'll also be like snowboarding (or skateboarding) where tricks are counted for points. "... and she jumps!..... ohhhh! a backside 360 to a shifty and connects with a 1080! 18 points!" By the end of the game, the scoreboard would need to be able to fit 4 digits for each team. And even then, if there is a tie, 1 player from each team would play a game of Madden on the PS2 to end it all! (gamers will become a valuable asset to sports). And then if there is still a tie, the crowd and everyone watching the game does a massive rock, paper, scissors tournament - so the home team usually wins in that case.

Somewhere in that paragraph flag football and nfl football became one and the same...

Anyway, after the game Jamie, Joe, and I was walking back to my car (silver camry) and I saw a mini dog park right in front of my car. It was a small grassy area enclosed with a low fence and the owners were mingling while their pets were playing, and in that instant I thought - pokemon. I was so mesmerized by the scene that I did not look away even as I pushed the unlock button to my car (beep beep!). I mean, it's like real live pokemon where the trainers are chatting and they get to either play or battle their pokemon. Exactly. As I opened the door and got in the car (remember I'm still in a trance watching the dogs), my eyes met one dog owner and he began to look at me curiously then very furiously, very quickly. Suddenly, something felt very wrong.

"What the ***** are you doing? Get out of my car!"

By this point, Jamie was already in the passenger seat, and Joe was just about to get into the back seat. I looked at the dashboard, then the cup holder, then the back of the car and realized nothing was familiar - just like my molecular bio midterm. I looked back at the man across the fence and he was now shooting me down with his verbal shotgun.

"Get out of my ***** car!"

I jumped out and my Please-Don't-Get-Me-Detention Mode (developed and mastered in grade school) kicked in. "I'm so sorry, I thought it was my car and the door open and i go in and key no fit nothing see me friends mistakes i am fly away i do dat rite now and car next is here mine. mine. mine. Sorry!"

"Alright! Now you can get the ***** out!"

I hurried to my car, which was the next one over, and drove away like a lamb who just escaped slaughter. Joe thought I pulled one of those "sike! that's not my car" jokes and took it too far. If that was true, I got 'em good! [slaughter - s] = laughter! hah! and we were laughing like that. but really, it was pretty darn freaky... "good times, good times"

I think the other car was a silver mercedes. Maybe I'm subconsciously high-class. At any rate, I need to stay focused (on the right things). John "camera" Yeo.

Remix #6: Remixed, to always lock the door, except when it's inconvenient.

Piece to Peace

Imagine a gang that called themselves CROODS. Their gang would consist of members from the bloods and crips who have 'seen the light'. And obviously their gang color would be purple (red + blue). The Croods would be a gang of high fiving teenagers and older people who would serve the community, feed the poor, shelter the homeless, and throw up peace signs everywhere. They would mediate fights between other gangs to allow them to settle arguments, territory, pokemon cards, and other things that gangs fight for. This will be done through chess tournaments at the local park, cranium/taboo/scrabble/jenga matches, smash bros. matches, and more. Eventually, the Croods will make a band and play music at jazz cafes and major events. Then they'll get big and travel all over the world to share the love. And the Croods will go down in history as the peacemakers of mankind. And all together they will say, "Move over Peace Corp. We the troof!" And then they will say, "Peace out."

Pause my brain for second... I need a pause button in my head that will put a pause to the pause that I have in blanketing myself in my thoughts and never thinking to put my thoughts into thoughtful actions. Unpause. bloop*

I came across the passage and I read it. Peacemaker. My mind fell in love with the word. My ears fell in love with the sound. My spirit fell in love with the peace that transcends all understanding.

As a kid, a friend of mine used to cry when her brother and sister fought. She had nothing to do with the argument, but she would be standing there pouring her tears out until her siblings finally noticed the wailing sirens. Then she would become the victim. "Shut up!" "Stop crying!" And reluctantly they would stop their bickering not because they had come to an agreement, but most likely to hold back the flood. Without knowing it, she was searching for peace in a broken frame - the right piece in a broken picture. We all have at least a glimpse of what peace should look like, but when the world's theme is 'every man for himself' the image shatters into loud voices and angry faces and idealistic thoughts with no hope for fruition. Anger, harbored hatred, deep-rooted jealousy toward friends/family/neighbors/anyone stem from wanting my desires fulfilled with no regard to others around me. I have selfish ambition in me. But what I also have is the Holy Spirit in me who urges me on to peace.

We say You are the Prince of Peace, but we do not have peace. So I wonder.

I wonder if I can truly, humbly apologize to someone, knowing full well that I am innocent, for the sake of peace. I wonder if I can make a fool out of myself in my own eyes and in front of others for the sake of peace. I wonder if I would willingly and fairly mediate between divided parties for the sake of peace. I wonder if I can lay down my pride for the sake of peace.

I am not calling for a movement of 'push-overs', but rather an endless wave of bold and courageous souls that are bent on setting the picture straight. Peacemakers aren't timid and shy. Peacemakers make you cry. Peacemakers stand firmly against the dissonant standards of their generation. Peacemakers are prayer warriors. Their time of true humility is before God, relying fully on Him to break the walls, change the hearts, and provide the Peace. Peace like a river, not peace like a pond.

Now our prayers will flow like tears.

If I don't have peace, it's not because I want conflict. It's because I'm complacent and self-satisfied - too comfortable in my own skin.

Piece like a puzzle.

Remix #5: Remixed, to strive for Peace in all circumstances.

Boast is Toast

There I was, holding up my paper. I was excited. I tilted it a little so maybe, just maybe, someone might recognize. Kung fu fighting - fast as lightning. One thing led to another and I found myself in a sticky situation. My expertise were on display, and I was being led astray. (That was very vague on purpose.) Specifically, this happened 2 days ago, but I'm just thinking of all the times when I would tilt myself just a little knowing that I would get noticed. The words, the actions, and even the thoughts haunt me the very second they are conceived. I realized for the millionth time how stupid it is to boast anything about myself - even godly things. The foolishness oozes down from head to toe like having a raw egg cracked over my head. My awareness is so slow that my body gets ahead of my head and only leaves behind a dust of regret. Like leaves seeking attention - the crispier it is the better it feels to crush. crunch! And leaves behind pieces of a shattered pride. It doesn't make sense that I, the branch, should boast in how beautiful my leaves are, and give absolutely no credit to the Root - the source of both branch and leaf.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.
Galatians 6:14

Remix #4: Remixed, to only boast in Jesus Christ.

Crazy Love

I remember in my senior year in high school my English class had a final presentation where each student gave a 5 minute speech on what they thought life was about. (pretty deep stuff for high school). People talked about purpose in life, career, family, seizing the day, living for something, religion/God, fulfilling dreams, future goals, and all the good stuff. When it was my turn, I cried... in front of my class... in front of my peers. I was vulnerable, not for the sake of being open, but because that was the only way to truly convey what my heart wanted to say. I couldn't hold back tears when I declared my life was about reaching out to that guy who hides by the pool at lunch. I couldn't stop my runny nose when I shared that I wanted to see that lonely girl getting picked on find true friends. I couldn't stop my whimpering when I said it breaks my heart to see broken families. I couldn't stop myself from saying that life is about living for others.

The whole ordeal was really awkward (especially afterwards). It's definitely not the norm to see a high schooler cry like a kid in front of class. But I didn't mind because it was not planned, but spontaneous. It wasn't a show, but a display of my soul.

Crazy love is loving when you know you can't. It shakes you to the core of who you are because it goes against human nature itself. In a world that promotes individuality, the mirror is man's best friend, and when he is told to shatter the reflection and step out, the feeling is foreign and unwanted. Secretly, we like being trapped in the house of mirrors, caught in the labyrinth with no start or end because it's comfortable. But when the mirrors become transparent and we are told that the carnival is over, reality hits and we don't know what to do with all the unfamiliar faces.

I know I can't, but through Jesus Christ and His love for me, I can love with an unconditional love - not asking for anything in return - loving freely. It doesn't matter if I plateau spiritually. It doesn't matter if I'm down. It doesn't matter if my pride gets crushed. It doesn't matter if I don't get very far. Because if even through that I can see somebody be lifted up and fall in love with Jesus, then that's enough for me - that's all I want to see. True joy is not about the smile on my own face, but seeing the smile on others' hearts.

J - Jesus first
O - Others second
Y - You last

This joy is crazy.

Crazy love.

Add the proper preposition. There is only One who is both with and without.

Crazy in Love.

God loves His people so much. Love overflows and washes away all fear. It is kindness that leads to repentance.

I want to be crazy in love. God. people.

People have pains, hurts, and brokenness. To alleviate the weight, we might "lift up burdens" to one another. It has some kind of affect, but then I realize it's still there. The reason why it seems to work but doesn't is because it's only an imitation of lifting up burdens to God, our heavenly father - the only one who can right a wrong - the only one who is in the business of changing hearts.

I'm standing in the middle of still waters.

It breaks my heart. I can't stand it. In fact, it hurts even when I lay down. Fetus position. Heart wrenching. Gut spilling. Body quaking. Mind bending. Soul stirring. I need to see change happening. I want to see a river flow, not a dead pond. But even the times when nothing is happening, I'll keep on trusting and I'll keep holding on because I know with God it's possible. I don't see it right now. I don't feel it right now. But I'll look at His perfect record and see that His love is unfailing.

Dive into the sea of forgotten love.

I wish my splash can stir up and awaken others to love.

Just as His 'splash' allowed me to love.

Remix #3: Remixed: to love others more than myself.

Remember the Love

I now see the irony in my previous post. I waste more time trying to start saving time. (The time of the entry was about 2 in the morning.) I love being stuck in a paradox. The freedom it gives is unwritable.

And I move on.

I got in an accident last week. 4 am. I was deciding if I should visit my parents since I was in the area (20 minutes away). "Nah, I wanna get back to sd early." BAM! Now I had no choice but to go home. I got to dad's office and he picked me up. We dropped the car off at the shop and headed home for mom's delicious breakfast. On the way, dad guessed right. "You came all the way up here and you weren't even thinking of visiting us were you? Probably debating between the two and in your hesitation you got in an accident." Once again, my 'no' motor started up but he cut right to the heart. poop. When I stop listening, God really does speak through circumstances. "But you can't say that! How do you know that the accident happened so that you would go home and visit your parents?" Well I don't. But one thing I do know is that there is no coincidence. After breakfast (my favorite meeyukgook!) mom packed some stuff, and then I headed back down (a miracle considering I had no sleep) with mom's car. I see the love. I say I know, but I never remember. I say I love my parents and I really do and I know they love me, but I've been putting that in the back of my mind and taking it for granted. Now I see the need to be involved in my parents lives as they have been with mine. I definitely needed this trip.

Passive love. A love that sits still. A love that is selfish. A love that forgets. No love.

Active love. A love that pursues. A love that is more than words. Crazy love.

Remix #2: Remixed, to remember the Love and be active in my love for others.

Lesson

Everybody say 'lesson plan!'

"lesson plan!"

Here I go. This blog will be used for lessons in life. Jonathan Edwards did something like this and he called them resolutions. He would start with, "Resolved..." and end with something he had resolved to do. For example: Resolution #5: "Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can."

I would have days where I make up my mind to do this or that and even plan to write them down. But to this day I have not written down a single learned lesson. So now I begin. These might be from what I've learned before as well as what I learned from others. My desire is that I can build up and stand on higher ground instead of starting from scratch and vague memories everyday. Fair enough I say.

Now I need a catchy word like resolved. First words that come to mind are: determined, decided, chosen. Mr. Thesaurus isn't much help, but there is one word that catches my eye: break down. "I have broken down to live my life to the fullest." Hm, scratch that.

New direction. I'm letting my creative juices run in circles... circles... vinyls... scratch.... scratching.... DJ.... music.... remix.... REMIX!

That's only a small glimpse of how my thought process works. I have resolved to call my resolutions remixes! remix! Remixed: "To live my life to the fullest." Just like a remix improves (or tries to improve) a song, my version of remix will improve (or try to improve) the way I live. Bit of a stretch, but it'll spin. Remix = resolve = lesson learned

If I was a brand name, it'd go something like: yeoman - redefining definition since 1987.

Anyway, it's time to act.

Remix #1: Remixed, to hold time as precious and make every second count.

... I got more on my mind.

More

This is the cry of my heart
for those who are in need
of Your mercy and Your grace
for Your glory, Lord

What's the point?
There is more.
God gives faith.
God gives passion.

The only purpose in life is to share Salvation.
I'm a waste of space if I don't.
All immaterial things point to God.
Material person of God is Jesus.

How can this be chance?
It can't be.
It's hard, but we walk by faith.
We always wait for a supernatural feeling.
If this is God, then He is just an experience.

There will be dry spells
God will have you walk with your feet.
It's our desire to please Him.
Why? I don't understand.

Backsliding. I don't know.
Please give us faith.

One difficult thing.
Exhorting one another.
Rebuke as well as encouragement.
Of the two, correction is important.

But we are all sinnners.
Do you have the faith in God
to rebuke and correct someone?
Interesting.

Get back to talking about important things.
Awkward. Did I cross the line of comfort?
Pride kicks in. Rebuke crumbles.
Unite as one. Let nothing divide.

Spur each other on
like in a race.
More people need to start running.
Dead. Died. Dead again.

Rise up. Wake up.
Passion for God is a blessing.
Discern the things of the world.
Jesus is light. Remove the darkness.

I see. I see. I see.
I need a wake up call.
It hurts. But I need surgery.
I need this passion.

The battle is on.

For the glory of God.
What does it even mean?
Let us see.

Holy Spirit is a Person.
Communicate.
Pains me to see Him grieve.

Self-serving.

Nature. Wonders of God.
Find solace. Alone time.
I'm tired of this.

God give me revelation.
Without it, I am destroyed.

One thing. Fast.
Physical submission.
But pride. But instinct.
Anything but...

Doubts of faith.
Doubts of salvation.
Are you sure?
Then move.

There's no discipline.
It's called passion.
Just do it.
God is a Person.

Constantly be in the Spirit.
Sin deceives the heart.
Lead into backsliding.
Lead into back sliding.

Another door opens.
Positive opportunity?
No. Just opportunity.
Pull me through.

Faith.
There is more than this.

-BBQ-

Gsus

G suspended to G. The note is resolved. Suspend G in my life and leave Him out of the picture and I'm back to wallowing in knots. My ear wants to spring the note back and have G for who He is. Gsus is beautiful. G is wonderful. Regardless of the note, it's a masterpiece and a pleasing sound in His ear.

I sound like a crazy person.