Angela E J Koh » Saeculum

If You Ask Questions Like These

angelaejkoh — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 19:49:54 +0000

I let one foot hover 300 ft above water. The other balanced on the ledge of a steel bridge, my hand gripped the cable behind me. The ones that look down don’t seem to jump. It’s the ones that look up that do. They look for answers first. My question was, what am I really living for. The question became important when I caught people avoiding it. In fact they go on to work, lunch, gym without thinking about it once. If I asked them, they were offended as if I said you have nothing to really live for. Even when I asked myself, my ego hurt.

I felt an extreme circumstance involving death might procure an intention in life—a mind frame that certain people have (opposed to the blank, empty faces at the office). The bridge was about putting one’s body in an environment where his priorities cannot matter, where a singular design becomes clear. Wealthy and praised almost made the cut for goals, but even these cannot reflect the value of one’s existence.

I wasn’t on a bridge (the bridges here are above traffic, not water). I imagined it, as psychologically straining as it sounds. But I had found the beginning of an answer. Behind the education and career I work for, there is a responsibility as a human being. With both arms and legs intact, strong back, and a brain that has immeasurable potential, for now I owe my life to use the materials given to me to their fullest extent. And though I don’t have any answers yet, I feel I am going towards its direction. If I had been walking in the dark, I’d found a flicker of a streetlamp in the distance.

Avoiding the Machine

angelaejkoh — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 01:05:00 +0000

If I had to be honest, I have frequent dreams of dying. Beyond the humorous morning angst-face while brushing my teeth, these curses have contributed to the work ethic I’ve gained over the year. The most vivid deaths have been in cars, others in not so conventional ways. I have to grow from such events. I’m convinced that I’ve been given more time to digest this (as an act of mercy). Maybe it’s enough to refine a sensitive soul into tranquility–to bring the mind the closest it can to nature (or the end).

But it hurts my time. I’m 2 minutes late or 30 minutes slow. My cell phone dies from checking the digital clock, not from calls. Last night I thought if I’d started 1 year ago, I might have a successful platform today. I almost lose the bigger dream. Though setting short term goals like walking the dog is more simple, it’s been difficult to want to do what I need the most. When dying seems so close I work harder, harder. And what forces my mind into wisdom, makes it slow. I made myself a commodity somewhere between submission and publication (death). Even I believe my only value comes from what I can produce quickly. Meanwhile, the hope to maintain quality has consumed me with burden. I’ve thrown my person into a one-man assembly line. My worth contained in the next completed piece, I wonder if it will float. If I’ll find my value is 0.

Crescent Moon

angelaejkoh — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 03:56:00 +0000

There are two roads that we choose to take upon our awakening in this world. One is Leah, she is the exemplar of the Active Life. The other is Rachel, the exemplar of the Contemplative Life.

Beyond our desires of an Active Life and despite the steps we take towards one, the Life of Contemplation is undeniably one of superior form due to the reflection and ability to use high-wisdom in our greatest asset: the rational soul. This rational soul of love and will is so great as it is not infused by semen, but infused by God. To exercise this spiritual self is to be most God-like. As He is our origin, it is to be the most like ourselves.

I am slouched over, an old raisin of a man in the little corner of my room. I do not play much, not nearly as my peers. Instead the joints of my fingers ache in the morning and the right side of my neck becomes unbearably heavy midday. But never have I felt so involved in Life and what I could possibly discover. How could I be judged by the physical context or locale of the body in the world of matter. Rather, I be judged by the strength of my spirit, the shine of my light. My passion to understand the truly real, the world of mysterium.

And this is something I am still raw to, this understanding that applies to the literary realm. The unacceptable use of catachresis in man’s language (the lake of fire). How is that possible as water douses fire and fire dries up river? It may sound absurd, but it does not when describing the mysterium. How do you describe the indescribable with man’s mundane language? One must break the barrier, say there is a place where fire rises from the water, existing with perfect harmony in the heavenly world. You must be able to see that this is possible and envision it in your mind as fire and water carry only their identity and can exist without clash. This applies to Kogawa’s relationship of the Avenues of Silence existing on the Avenues of Speech. I am a firm believer in breaking past Literary Priority and Rules of Decorum, to me, there is no such thing as indescribable.

How can I connect this concept to Arithmetic? Does not the spiritual world also question what man knows in these terms? But then how can there be three in one God. Three does not equal one and one does not equal three; there is no two and one in one and one is not of two and one. IT IS A SCANDAL! And so we must constantly challenge ourselves to go beyond this world and what we know. The lateral world into one of the vertical order, it is our greatest challenge and our greatest adventure. It is the most magnificent mountain we can conquer.

Writing is not to be taken lightly. It is an excruciating task of inner discipline and constant reflection, one of pain and tears. It is a great journey that takes years of life. And like all things, it cannot be carried out alone. I begin my novel with a prayer and as I pour my energy and will into this journey, everything I know and everything my subconscious needs me to know. I may not have my Beatrice but I know that one would surely reveal themselves to me. I feel as though I am Dante, having stepped foot at the gates of Hell, my spiritual self ready to declare hope before I enter. And when I return, I would be worthy to wear the imprint of the crescent moon, having mastered my higher impulses and having conquered the hindrances of the lateral world.

To Professor Chiampi, for your inspiration
and your contagious passion

Bereft of this Life

angelaejkoh — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 07:33:00 +0000

How unbearable the dull pain is in comparison to one that is sharp and known. Somehow the lateral world does not appease a soul connected to the vertical order. I do not think much of death. It’s pain will be my purgatorio, it will be my pleasure. Death has been waved in front of me as a source of solution for as long as I remember, albeit selfish. From taking life for honor(seppuku), understanding to retribution–it’s more acceptable if your eyes slant and your skin is yellow. If you can’t hurt them, you can hurt yourself. This has also been a convenient resolution. Punching walls, speeding cars, the violent to thyself. The irony weighs down my heart; we are not meant to succeed in this material world. Can I feel fine knowing that I am set up for failure, for dissatisfaction, unfulfillment. The point of the journey is to realize a soul made of heaven can only find happiness there.

I’ve been teaching an 11th grade class at Valley High School in Santa Ana for a few weeks now. I love it very much and I feel a few drops fill my cup. Hopefully, they will be inspired to continue to college after high school. Few of them have an artistic niche; they can sketch things so vividly. I pray they may nurture such talents to turn them into fulfilling occupations. Just a couple drops. And to understand that that is enough.

To Prudence, Fortitude, Temperance, and Justice.