paper careplanes.
In a world where noise, stress, and grind culture hound us like ghosts crammed into our homes,
paper careplanes is a Substack all about giving you space to stay tender, gentle, and hopeful.
Here’s what you can expect:
Reflections on what being “good enough” means for Asian Americans
Essays at the intersection of theology and psychology, but telling it slant
Encouragement for the hard days
Highlights from things I’m reading - journal articles, fiction, current news, etc.
If you’re not sure yet, continue reading for a sample from one of my more popular posts:
a psalm on nonviolent communication
No one would question that words are powerful. Yet somehow, words seem to be underrated when people consider what good stewardship of power looks like. Maybe it’s because we speak, hear, and read so many words every day. Maybe it’s because there are so many styles of speaking, writing, and dialoguing. Maybe we just have become numb in this age where meanings of words are so easily twisted to mean whatever people try to make it mean.
In any case, I’ve been studying the relation between language and violence and considering the role of nonviolent communication in building movement and community.
Simultaneously, a class assignment had us write a contemporary psalm.
I took advantage of the two and wrote a psalm on nonviolent communication. Let me know what you think!
Happy are those who do not
shout war cries stirring up violence, nor
gossip sparks that burn bridges down, nor
whisper poison that numbs the heart and soul.
But the Lord’s song is their desire,
and the Divine’s advocacy is their murmur day and night.
They keep on debating and yet do not see,
and discussing yet do not understand.
Hearts grow cold and hardened,
yet they wear ignorant confidence like a necklace,
and callous language drapes their shoulders.
The cacophony of their sound makes them dull,
and their lying lullabies close their eyes.
Listen! The Lord sang the heavens and the earth into being,
and spoke that it was good.
Listen! The Lord breathed us up from dust into life,
and gave us voice like their own.
Listen! The Lord cried out for Abel,
when Abel’s own voice had been silenced by his blood.
Listen! The Lord declared that their people would be free,
and it was so.
Those who murmur this Good in their heart shall be like honey to the lips,
that offer water to cool the throat,
and its quench leads to peace;
Yet not so the wicked,
but in ashes they will cough on their own chaos.
Therefore, the wicked will not have their plea heard,
nor offenders in the choir of the peacemakers.
For the Lord is still creating their song with the choir of the peacemakers,
and the words of the violent suffer their own.