How I’ve Learned To Hear God

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“I don’t know how to hear God,” I used to exclaim.

There was one particular conversation I had with Miriam about hearing God that stuck with me. She was sharing about a time she heard God, except, she added, it wasn’t hearing hearing, it was more hearing feeling, or something like that.

I was confused — what does hear-feeling mean? what does such an experience feel (or sound?) like? how do I know it isn’t just the voice in my head? — and perhaps even to say how ‘confused’ I was would be an understatement to how all over the place, muddled, and befuddled I felt.

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Two weeks on, after an adventure that began with a tearful goodbye and a long hug with my parents at Changi Airport’s Terminal 1, and ended with a smile under the blue sheets of the Stuart Room in Rothsay, I finally get it… this ‘hear-feeling’ thing, among so much more. God, I heard You.

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I Saw You Three in My Dream (unfiltered)

(Written within the first waking hour, left unfiltered, left true to the dream, left as it is despite it having been written in my confused state)

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‘You #1’, ‘you #2’, and ‘you #3’ are three real people in my real life, and they now exist in my dream life/ world as well. Dream versions are slightly different versions of the real selves, perhaps an exaggeration of how I see/ feel about them in real life now…? I don’t know, this was weird. Very weird. SO weird I just had to write it down.

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Some Mornings, I Watch Hot Air Balloons Fly

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Some mornings, I glance out of my window and see balloons flying in the sky. There was once I was facetiming a friend when the balloons flew past, and he squealed (almost shrieked!) and told me of this quote that he once read in Song of Solomon, “You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.” We laughed at the sudden hilarity of the situation, but soon quietened as we let the truth of the quote sink in. We do have to give up ‘weighted shit’ to ascend to new heights, both figuratively and, I guess, literally too.

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Running Connor’s Run

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I know that my eating disorder should not bring me as much shame as it does, but it still embarrasses me to admit that I did have a terrible binge the night before the 18.8km run. What started off as getting out of bed at 11.30pm for a ‘little snack’ morphed into a feast of a 250g pack of Medjool dates (~11 dates), four large ripe bananas and four cups worth of nutty oatmeal. All of it could have easily amounted to 2000 calories, which is close to maybe 3 quarters of a relatively active female’s day’s worth. I told only one person as it happened, and she told me only three things:

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Sydney in September Part I (+ vlog)

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23.08.2017

Hugging Mum again felt like life was breathed into my bones. It has been months apart for us at this point, and I didn’t realise how much I had missed her touch, her scent, her smile, her everything, until I saw her in flesh before me. Dad couldn’t be here for he had to settle a few things back in Austria, but

I’ll take one if I couldn’t have two. :’)

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