The silly yet memorable things we do...



Trying out the helmet, excited to be selected for the next NS.



Greg checks the Biology book while we watch closely - In Times bookshop after our filling breakfast at La Bodega. The JYG insisted that females have only 2 holes and 3 passage ways in their lower abdominal section.



Soph, WanYen and Winnie beg to differ. Look at their furious fingers pointing at the answer saying 'SEE I TOLD YOU SO!!'



Okay, 3-holes. you girls win.



Amazed at the food we have here. WE LOVE KL!



Jon gladly receiving an Ang Pow from me.

What a summer.

Yes, I love Lost. Me, and a few trillion people in the world (although, just asking around, it seems as though there are quite a lot of Malaysians who don't think that highly about the show). The best thing? The stories of each person's lives. These are people whose lives are a total mess, with secrets and failures defining who they are. Then, they plane-crash, and out of their suffering, comes a chance to start afresh. A chance to re-discover who they really are. A chance to be the people they couldn't before, the people they can be.

2004 was my plane crash. It was the year I came back from Melbourne, and jumped into the working world. And I collapsed. I didn't understand why all this church stuff I had based my whole life upon didn't seem to work outside the pristine four walls. So I became cynical, turned my back on my parents, put my finger to God, broke off my relationship. I crashed.

Then, 2005 came. And in thinking back about last year, I realised why I loved Lost so much: it parallels my own journey. Last year was my time to find out all over again who I really am, and start the long journey to putting my life together again. It was extremely lonely at times, but something so necessarily, like a cavern God put in my heart so I would learn how to lean on the right things to fill it - community, and communion. I was on this island, and I had better start getting used to life there.

So last year became exciting. I integrated with my colleagues at Star, quit to follow my heart and explore my industry, saw my best friend walk down the aisle, tried joining more things in church.

Big question is, what's 2006 like? And just like that blasted television show, I sense it may be a time to start taking responsibility. I have to admit, in this area, I have failed miserably so far. I still treat my mom coldly, with whom I had a long chat just now where we admitted correcting the mistakes of our indifferent past would take a long time. I can't seem to connect my barely-beating heart with a Source, and as such, find fellowship of the believers bogged down by a return of skepticism and plain apathy. And as Y incessantly reminds me, I'm turning 26 soon, and am still single. Not a worry - I could always get me a geisha.

But with my fingers grasping to hope, here's praying 2006 will be a Year of Responsibility. A year which will test my ability to respond.

jon.

PS. Still on that TV show, is it just me, or does Jack (Matthew Fox) look a lot like Jose Antonio Reyes, that Arsenal forward? Thought about it while watching Arsenal thrash Middlesbrough 7-0. You be the judge:

 

It was absolutely the most fun, thrilling and physical as well as mentally challenging 3 days ever. Ladies and gentlemen, I have graduated from Bodypump school and am ready to instruct the most popular group exercise class in the world today.

Day 1:

I wasn't sure what to expect. Not knowing a single soul, I quietly retreated to a corner of the gym floor and non-chalantly prepared a much-needed endurance drink concoction. From stories I've heard, the physical demands will take its toil even from the best of us. We were eye-balling and sizing each other up, wondering if each has what it takes to role-model the image of a Les Mills instructor.

The master trainer steps in and we are set to go. Everyone was ready to impress. Our first class together begins. With articulate cueing complemented by authoritative commands, Frank (the trainer) sets the benchmark for what we would have to emulate not just for the next three days, but for the rest of our lives.

Day 2:

After reviewing and painstakingly correcting every technique of exercise that exists in a Bodypump course, Frank now takes a backseat and watches us as we present our first track. I had the opportunity to showcase the shoulder track to the tune of Bodyrocker's "I Love The Way You Move." Definitely an upbeat scintillating number. I started off confidently with wide-stance pushups followed by lateral raises using the weight. I was groovin' and movin' to every pulsating beat leading to the climatic chorus. In the other corner of the room was my opposing partner delivering with equal vigor and vim. Both of us collapsed to the ground after ending the sequence with crossover pushups! That got the heart rate up.

After which began the "Experience from Hell." The Bodypump Challenge comprises of several stations around the room where you would do high repetitions of resistance exercise required to be done till fatigue. Deadlifts, clean & press, bicep curls, dips, lunges, squats, raises... you name it, they got it. It was circuit training of the highest order. Seven minutes you remain with your partner at each station, performing the exercise until you feel the life essence drawn out of you. I kept telling my partner, Josh to go slow. All the lactic and muscle burn made us felt like we were training for some DELTA force team or something. Every 7-minute station felt too long.

At the end of the day our bodies felt weak and again we had to represent the track that was shown that morning. I couldn't believe that my legs could my weight any longer. It was literally shaking as I was doing shoulder exercises. Legs shaking... doing shoulder workouts. But when it was all over, we felt deeply satisfied and fulfilled that the day was completed. Though it was just the second day, we had already emerged as victors in the world of Bodypump.

Day 3:

Amazingly and rather unfortunately, I had to present the squat track first off in the morning. My legs simply had not recovered from last night and there was I, carrying role-model weights worthy of a Bodypump instructor presenting probably one of the hardest squats tracks ever. Thankfully I made it through pretty well. Here were the comments: (or something like that)

You were made for this program. You role-modeled what it means to be a Bodypump instructor. You showed leadership and authority once you stepped on stage. Good group focus and eye contact. Clear instruction and vocals. Just note not to go too low on the 4/4 squats and remember not to hyperextend your knees.

Elated. I could die then.

Through the course, I've met an awesome group of people who have incredibly encouraging right from the start. Constantly helping and giving constructive feedback to one another. In the end, we were there for each other as a team, working at being better in giving life-changing experiences to the people we will be teaching.

"I like the way you move...... Work those shoulders! Turn it up!"

 

Gotta love what I do.

 

G

I got myself a New Year present. A must have for any serious runner or in my case, a fitness instructor. It's a Nike Triax C6 watch. But it isn't just any other watch. It's a heart rate monitor and if you have any clue about how one functions, it's a pretty useful piece of equipment.

Heart rate monitors usually comes with a strap to be worn around the breastline area of your body, measuring the number of beats your heart makes in a minute (BPM) and sends the information in real-time to be displayed from your watch.

Most of you would probably ask "Why the hell do I need to know that for?" In our fitness-deficient culture, it's not that uncommon for people to assume that to be fit and healthy, we need to clock a certain amount of cardio workout a week. And yet what we don't realise is that during those workouts, there are chances where we are not performing at an optimal level. We could be underperforming at certain times or could have pushed ourselves too hard at other occasions. The knowledge of BPM in real-time, measured by a heart rate monitor eliminates those possibilities.

It's just not enough to know that all we need to do is to get through a 30 mins run around Bukit Kiara. What we need to know is that during those 30 mins, whether our heart is working consistently at a cardiovascular level, that is 60-80% of its limit. And you won't really know that based on what you feel that day. You could be running for years every week and still could not be achieving the level of fitness that you desire.

I tested the device for a 5K run and it was incredible. It even charts a graph showing where I've peaked and calculates the amount of calories burned. It made me realise that I haven't been pushing hard enough on the downslope and hence by making the necessary adjustments in my run, I managed to clock a faster time. I was elated. The fact that you can know how your heart is performing at every moment increases your chance of success.

How true that can be when applied to the journey of our lives.

New Year has always been a day of possibilities. What can I do to improve? How can I leave those bad habits behind once and for all? What opportunities awaits me or what are the fears that hold me back? While most enter the new year in the company of people, I have always prefered spending the last few moments alone. Pondering and reflecting with a glass of red, allowing the past and the future pour meaning into the now.

How is my heart doing?

No luxury of technology to measure that. Just a silent prayer. Comtemplative. With a tinge of quiet agony. A cry that threatens to escape through my mouth and yet somehow could not. 2005 was a year where my relationship with God has come under a microscope and being tested to the point where it breaks. God seemingly pushed me away in His wrath, only to embrace me again through the gift of Grace.

I've always wanted control. I've struggled to let go and have allowed my best intentions, tainted by money, sex and power to rule the course of my life. All we ever think is as long we put it in certain amount of effort into piety or our religious acts, we would be fine. We just need to do more to guarantee our spiritual success. Even when I haven't really articulate those intentions, my sub-conscious have lead me into that path. And the weight sometimes is too much to handle.

Man's real power lies hidden in the agony which makes him cry out fo God: and there he is at the same time helpless and omnipotent. He is utterly helpless in himself, and yet he can "do all things in the Invisible who strengthens him."

                                                                                       -Thomas Merton

I'm starting to learn the art of crying to Someone. Most of the time situations force me too and at other times, by my own choice. The paradox of being helpless and yet omnipotent at the same time. For once no longer can I claim to have all the answers or have the maps charted out either for myself or for other seekers. I live one day at a time, learning to remain within my own agonia, identifying with the agony of of the One who emptied Himself and become obedient unto death. It is a dangerous place, after all, I descend into death. But it is also the safest of places - I lose myself in Christ and find myself in Him.

We can't just settle for our religious goals or resolutions to take us to the Mount Olympus of spirituality. Paganistic pursuits have no place in the life of a Christ follower. The key is to know our hearts in the community of friends with every given moment.

Learn to cry out with me this year. And may we find the freedom in being utterly helpless.

 

G