letting him say his lines

a dear sister-friend just departed. she was only in beijing for a few days, but they were full of adventure, authentic conversation, laughter, and love. so good for the soul. and for perspective. on everything. it was magic.* there were a few recurring themes among our many musings. among them was the importance of letting those around us say their lines and play their own parts in our dramatic lives. in particular, letting the men around us say their lines. rather than construct scripts so compelling we can't help but suck them in. easily done, but unwise. for those of us fascinated by narrative arc, and with the capacity to create scripts or scenes compelling enough to subterfuge those close by, it's an important consideration.** another recurring them was the significance of authentic communication. and its incomprehensible seeming lack among certain of our peers. how is it possible that people can really coast along without truly being open emotionally to others around them? or too fearful of the vulnerability that comes with intimacy to let their hearts loose? or caught in a confused vision of commitment as suppressed captivity and unable to see the absolute freedom therein? and yet, inauthentic communication happens all the time. and much energy is expended on cultivating false intimacies.

we contemplated starting a revolution against this state of affairs in which we would cultivate and share slower, deeper, more meaningful exchanges. this would be a strike against the pop intimacy of twitter. (yes, i realize the irony of writing about this on a blog. but at least it's not a microblog.) we tried to think of what the opposite of "tweeting" would be, or what we would call this movement. my friend suggested "om", but i noted that was taken. then she suggested "slom", but it sounds a bit too much like something you'd find in a dirty shoe. also, when we thought about what would actually be involved, it didn't make much sense. a blank website page where we say nothing.... slowly? we discussed writing letters to one another. i recalled how inspired i was reading the letters exchanged between jane austen and her sister at the 'a woman's wit' exhibit i'd seen at the morgan when i was last in nyc. but we realized that although something is lost - the processing and filtering and presentation of information (narrative!) - in our world of instantaneous communications, we doubted we'd be able to resist emailing while letters were en route, which kind of defeats the purpose. so we're still looking for another project. and we'll leave the om / slom revolution to someone else.

it's always nice to see your life through another's eyes. although this particular sister-friend thinks that my life ought to be a tv show.*** not sure i agree, but i do feel lucky to be pinned down by this star's pin here and now. yet another recurring theme of the last few days was how true happiness transcends outer experience or, more precisely, how happiness truly is a choice. and one we choose, consistently, without great efforts. there is so much beauty and joy in the world sometimes i can't stand it. actually, that's not true. i can always stand it.

we went hiking on the great wall with my chinese parents a few days ago. it was a wonderful trip. we were there on a wednesday, so we had the wall to ourselves and were literally the only people we saw for a few hours. that may also be because it ended up being more of an adventure than any of us anticipated. my chinese parents are sixty and after consulting with them about the day's plans, i was thinking we'd putter about on the wall for about an hour or so, take some pictures, eat an early lunch, and call it a day. instead, after about an hour and a half of good hiking on an absolutely beautiful unrestored section of the wall (not actually open to the public, mind) we mad a critical decision. rather than go back the way we came to get off the wall, we decided to climb down from the wall to the reservoir visible far below. my chinese parents "knew a path" that we could follow down the mountain. only after we were hopelessly lost an hour and a half later and literally bush-whacking our way through a ravine did it come out that they had last used this path four or five years ago in the autumn or the spring (when the vegetation was less lush).

my chinese parents have a bickering banter that largely sustains their relationship, so there was much back and forth about whether it was in fact four or five years ago and in the autumn or the spring when they had last followed this path. there was also a lot of discussion about who had led us astray or lost the path in the first place. (i personally am not sure that there ever was a path.) at one point when my auntie zheng was insisting that we couldn't climb down the slippery rocks before us and we needed to retrace our steps and climb back up and find the path, i finally intervened. auntie zheng, i said, we simply cannot head back now, we have no choice but to push ahead. (a profound mantra for life, really.) i reasoned that we were heading generally in the right direction (down) so eventually we would reach the reservoir, or at least civilization or some sort. my visiting friend recalled that she had just remarked the previous day that we can no longer have any real adventures now that we have gps and if need be we could rely on that. not so fast, i replied, the chinese government blocks gps. so we could only get off the mountain with wit and intuition. which we did. but it was arduous going and there were a few moments of serious concern about our capacity to survive. at one point, i overheard my chinese parents worrying about what to do if anything happened since, with the two foreigners in tow, it would be an international incident. i told them not to worry, we were both making peace signs in many of our photographs which makes us asian enough not to cause a fuss. in any case, we made it safely down somehow and all felt very close for having shared the experience. then we were immediately faced with the more pressing crisis of it being 12:30 and our not having had lunch yet. we eventually managed to eat as well. and make it back to beijing.

that evening my friend and i went to a foreign policy talk on china's rise on the world stage given by a professor from beijing university. i found just about everything he said offensive or trite. it somehow really irks me when academics base their assessment of china's inevitable rise to world dominance on sheer numbers. i think political and economic might, moral authority, and justice involve much more than that. or at least i'd like to think so. i also find it frustrating when academics hid behind coy, alliterative devices and jargon rather than articulating a coherent theory. but maybe that's simply part of how they dance.

speaking of dancing, i realized this morning while enjoying a blue sky day and going for an early morning run that whenever i listen to music, i am still constantly choreographing in my head. i think i need to limit my theatrics to that. and keep letting others say their lines.

*we also both believe in it. how can one not, really?

**in the interest of full disclosure, the "let him say his lines" line comes from another sister-friend whose wisdom and love we were channelling from nyc.

***she would not be the first to have suggested as much, as those of you familiar with 'the mattie show' theme song are well aware.