bittersweet symphony

there is nothing profound about this title. it is simply the song that is playing at the moment. (then again, all of my titles are songs of some sort, even if i am only singing them in some small corner of my heart.) life slowed down for me last friday as the back-to-back programming came to an end (our judicial training on domestic violence was immediately followed by an environmental legal advocacy program). the next morning, i awoke to find beijing caked in grimy orange. there was a flamboyant dust storm that day. it commenced somewhere after midnight and i just learned today that the ppm measure for beijing air quality at around 4:00 am saturday morning was 700. healthy is 50. really seriously bad and you shouldn't go outside is 500. i cringe to think about what the levels were on saturday as i walked to ballet class.

i hadn't seen a dust storm like this in beijing since i was a kid. it's hard to open your eyes and it gets in your teeth and it's generally rather horrid. it reminded me of my excuse for smoking in high school - cigarettes tasted better than the air. that was quite possibly true. well, that or i was simply being rebellious. also possibly true. of course, now i spend my time complaining about all the smokers in beijing and trying to avoid restaurants or bars with too many of them. it's hard enough breathing in this town without having to inhale second-hand smoke as well. and yet, i stay. even with the miserable ambient air quality this weekend, i had a few moments of joy and wonder at being here. and there's the bittersweet symphony.

i had a lovely dim sum brunch with girlfriends on sunday and then a wander through the city. we stumbled cross to older men with birds they had trained to fly and catch little orbs they would shoot into the air. there was something at once humble and striking about the scene. something in the way they cradled the birds in their hands and threw them as they released them. we stopped to watch for awhile. a woman holding a dog in a red t-shirt watched with us. i loved that moment.

it always comes down to moments. i still have moments punctured by sadness. or perhaps more precisely, wanting to share. share everything - the men with their birds, the dog with his alert ears and red t-shirt, the excitement of this new program aiming to empower grassroots environmental NGOs to engage in legal advocacy, the clever line i worked into my closing remarks at our judicial training, the latest gorgeous pic of my nephew, my most recent mediocre poem. but savouring the moments myself has to be enough for now. maybe for always.

i am hopeful that the bitter air will become sweet this week. all the wind did seem to clear things out for a few hours on sunday morning. like the weather, my feelings about the potential for rule of law in china have been unruly of late. stretches of dark, dusty storms of dismay punctured by swells of hope and clarity. (although the real state of things was probably best articulated at a rule of law roundtable i attended two weeks ago: the CCP is politicizing, rather than professionalizing, the courts.) this morning, i came across a quote i had noted for myself some time ago, unfortunately failing to note the source:

I believe that, despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies, is a crucial obligation. It is, in fact, mandatory.


it reminded me again that i will always be doing this, in some sense. even when the dust gets in my eyes and the sky is obscured.

dueling thoughts on dust to conclude:

Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
Pablo Picasso

Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end.
Jack Kerouac